I took a deep breath as I paused by the garden gate at number 19 Mannington Crescent. It wasn’t a nice area and I worried my car would still be there when I returned, but the thought of a cock filling my ass was enough to compel me to continue.
Fuck it! I boldly opened the gate and headed towards the front door. I could hear muted danced music coming from inside. I hated dance music. My guttural instincts were telling me to turn and run. My cock-lust was telling me “fuck it”.
I pressed the bell.
Nothing.
I pressed the bell again.
Again nothing.
Of course! The dance music was too loud to hear the music over.
I pushed open the door. The entrance-way lead to a room at the back of the house which was surprisingly empty. The DJ lights flashed in time with the music, but instead of bouncing bodies to the beat there was just emptiness. A dark foreboding, soul draining emptiness.
Except for the contraption in the middle of the dance floor. It was calling to me. A wooden device with leather restraints in obscure places.
“Welcome!” A voice boomed over the PA system.
An uneasiness settled across me as the vibes of The Wizard of Oz resonated. My feelings of having wanted to be Dorothy in her red sparkly sequinned shoes diminished into nothingness as the darkness of the situation enveloped me.
“Strip!” demanded the voice.
I felt I hadn’t choice so I peeled off my outer clothes until I was stood in my lingerie, isolated in the middle of the room.
“Good girl.” the voice boomed. “Now, please enter the seat.”
My cock was surprisingly semi-hard at this point, and my cock-brain took over. I entered the seat as instructed. Suddenly the wrist and ankle restraints slammed into locked position. I couldn’t move. I wondered what was in store for me. Trussed like a chicken, unable to move. A dark foreboding voice, hopefully belonging to a large cocked Dom. I took a deep breath, awaiting my next instruction.
