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A Strange Dungeon

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messaline

messaline

Crucified Amazon
A relatively short story of BDSM .....​

Written by Racing Rodent​

Pics by SeD​

... and a little participation of Messa for some adjustements ...


A strange dungeon
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Paskell was not enjoying her visit to England. "The English weather it is dull, the English food it is dreary, the English manners it is coarse pah!"

"Oh dear Paskell," Alexia smirked, "Such a terrible temper tantrum you are having, perhaps you have need of the English discipline?"

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"The English have no discipline" Scowled Paskell as she sat at the pub table and played with food that bore an alarming resemblance to plastic and a glass of wine which certainly lacked much resemblance to actual wine.

"Au contraire, it is, you might say, their singular vice," Alexia beamed at the thought for it had to be said it was certainly not the food or the décor of the Little Britain pub and restaurant in Babbingstoke off the M5.

Satisfied with Paskell's response Alexia now summoned over one of the waitresses, "This food is simply terrible, we would be more interested in the speciality of the house."

"Well the specials are on the board, today the fish is..." Began the waitress.

"No, not the food, no one who knows anything comes here for the food, the speciality of the Little Britain is a rather more, shall we say English passion?"
"Oh well yes," The Waitress grinned, "No one comes here for the food, at least not twice, I apologise about it being so terrible but it keeps away those customers who are not interested in the contents of our private cellar, ah if I may ask you would be Madam?"

"Alexia" Said Alexia simply.

"Oh yes you called ahead, well your special service is ready and waiting if you would both like to accompany me or we can serve something a bit more palatable than the ah...that." The Server nodded at the congealing mess on both plates.

"No we came for food for the soul not the body," Smiled Alexia.

The waitress looked around the restaurant area to make sure no one was paying too close attention to the couple sat before her. The rest of the clientele was mostly elderly and seem to only have focus on their food, save for three rowdy middle aged men who were consuming a lot of beer and a big bowl of something that might in a former existence have been chicken wings but now seem charred and basted with hot sauce into something that could only be considered food by the three quarters drunk.

"If you will follow me to the barn," The waitress indicated the way and Alexia and Paskell got and followed her curiously out of a back door and then along a covered walkway that offered some protection from the traditionally inclement British weather. They went into a barn conversion whose rather mundane interior could easily hold community discos and bingo evenings and the odd wedding reception. However that was not the end of the journey for the space under the stage at one end led down into a much deeper cellar than anticipated.

To be continued ...

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The cellar space was like something of a mix of modern austere semi-medical lighting and equipment and a medieval torture chamber Paskell almost squealed in delight at the sight of a rack, an X cross, a whipping post. At the far end of the chamber were two men, who with their muscles, which appeared to have further muscles of their own, could have been twins. Behind this pair hung a wide variety of whips, crops and paddles.

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"If you ladies would like a moment to change into something suitable for the session?" Said the Waitress having greeted the two gentlemen at the far end of the chamber. She turned around, "Oh, I see," For Alexia and Paskell had simply skinned out of their dresses and Alexiawas just fitting Paskell with a slave collar she had taken out of her handbag.
"Come little one," Alexia now drew Paskell after her as she headed towards the instruments of torture, "Do you have a preference, the rack or the whipping post to begin?"

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Now Paskell was brought by Alexia to the whipping post and at Alexia's nod the rough hands of the men seized her and fitted manacles to her wrists fixing her there. Paskell strained against the cold wood but it was unyielding and she was trapped, only able to accept what would come next.

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"Do you need any help Lady?" Asked one of the men of Alexia.

"Not for this part," She replied and sent her whip flicking across Paskell’shoulder blades.

"Ouh Wee" Paskell cried out, then another sharp crack lashed across her buttocks, she danced a little against the restraints but it did her no good. Another stroke and yet more rained down, each landing with careful precision to catch Paskell mid jump and send her writhing as best she could in a new direction. Swiftly under that ungentle caress Paskell grew hot, then sweaty and then aroused, "Woo Hoo!"

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The strokes rained down across Paskell's back and she fell into a rhythm. The sound, the sudden, blow, the feeling of heat, the flashing pain and the momentary quivering arousal. Paskell bit her lip slightly as she fell into her passion.

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She allowed herself to fall into a parallel world, a world of fires and cruel, exciting oppressions, a world that saw her laid out with her beloved. In this world she was the breakable toy of cruel men and her lover shared not just her pleasure but her pain as she too suffered.

Together they defied the whips, as one they rebelled in the face of the hot irons, in unison they shrieked their love for one another as they were stretched and twisted.

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"Now My Darling, time for the rack," said Alexia and suddenly the spell was broken and Paskell found herself feeling strange. Cold and empty and though in good company oddly alone.

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To be continued ...​
 
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She quivered as she was released but not in a good way and clutched her hands to herself when unbound. Dully she was led to the rack and though she submitted it was by rote.

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Everything was off and Paskell felt a curious shame at her lack of arousal. She did not moan when the hot wax dappled her skin but yelped and cried out with real pain.
Everything was off and Paskell felt a curious shame at her lack of arousal. She did not moan when the hot wax dappled her skin but yelped and cried out with real pain. Even as Alexia with all her customary skill and vigour applied a rigorous flogger to cleanse the dried wax from her skin. The thongs whistled in the air. They struck with that bee strike sensation that should have sent the blood coursing through Paskell's veins. The wax lifted away leaving air wafting sensuously in its wake and yet inside Paskell felt an empty despair.

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This made Alexia frown and only added to Paskell's deepening misery. Alexia left and returned a moment later with an array of toys, "Hum you are so wet," She fingered Paskell's womanhood with suave assurance but when Paskell clenched it was in rejection not pleasure. Though a dildo probed at the doorway to her own secret heaven she resisted its passage. Again and again it came but what was intended as a gentle invasion was resisted as if it were the most vile onslaught.

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"Okay, enough, Paskell, tell me what is wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong," Pasekll protested.
"I know you, this is not right," Alexia said with concern.
"No, no, no, I am fine, I have not asked to stop," Paskell told her trying to sound brave.
"Paskell, I know you, I know your body, tell me truly should I take you back to the hotel, do you need a bath, wine some pampering?"
"No, not that," Paskell replied.
"Then what?"
"I cannot say."
"Please," Alexia knelt beside Paskell close to her are, "Please tell me, my love I cannot bear this unhappiness."
"You might not like it," Paskell allowed the tears she had restrained to cross her face.

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"Paskell, it does not matter what I like, what do you like, what do you need?" Alexia too now was crying
By this point Paskell was feeling really bad. She should be losing herself in her orgasmic response, transported to realms of pleasure and self-realisation. Instead she clung on bitterly and despite herself began to weep a little. Alexia who had been growing increasingly anxious began to ask, “Paskell, you want to use your safe words?” Three times she asked and three times Paskell refused and yet after a while it was clear to the dominant something was terribly awry.
“Okay enough, Paskell, I am putting a stop to this, what is wrong?” Alexia put down her whips and knelt besides her beloved, “Normally by now you are screaming with pleasure, not crying and certainly not flinching.”

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“It, it is nothing,” Paskell mumbled, “I’ll be good in a bit.”
“Come now Paskell, it is something, you are always good, please tell me what is, I love you, more than kitten and chocolate, come on tell me,” Alexia sucked on a toe, making Paskell laugh a little.
“It is a foolish thing, too little to concern you,” Paskell told her.
“Not if it makes you feel better, then I want to know,” Alexia admonished.
“It is just,” Paskell turned away in shame, “No.”
“Yes, dearest, tell me,” Alexia cajoled.
“Well I just imagine the two of us together, tortured for our forbidden love, but defiant, there it is stupid,” Paskell closed her eyes.
“It is not stupid at all,” Alexia told her, she started to undo Paskell’s bindings.
“What are you doing?” Paskell felt a twinge of alarm.
“We are going to ask the dungeon keepers to help us recreate your wonderful fantasy,” Alexia told her with absolute confidence.
“But you don’t like it the way I do” Paskell protested.
“I like you, pretty and that is enough, you show your love to me in pain, I will show my love for you by sharing that pain, it will be ouch but totally worth it.”
“Oh!” Was all Paskell could manage to say struck dumb by conflicting emotions ...

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To be continued ...​
 
... What followed was a whirlwind. A tide of new and vibrant sensations. Now Paskell found herself straining against Alexia as the whip came crashing down for real. Yet it was upon Alexia’s back the scourge lashed, each blow driving that lithe body with sudden urgency against Paskell’s own. In between the strokes she had time to take in the sensation of her lover’s breath wet and warm upon her face, the heat rising gently between them, the flickering shudder of muscles playing under skin. Then the next assault crashed in driving Alexia towards Paskell like a tide.

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“Oh my love,” Breathed out Paskell in a heady shudder.
“I love you my darling,” Alexia told her.
Next, they were ruthlessly separated, brutal ropes strapped around their chests and breasts suspending them close but apart. Each had their hand bound behind them and more harsh hempen cord was twisted into crude approximations of loin cloths, biting into the women’s sex. Now the dungeoneers employed two men, rippled muscles lashing soft flesh with canes that snarled through the air and struck like vipers. Again and the again the pain brought forth a fevered, body shaking response.

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“I love you Alexia,” Paskell called out.
“I love you Paskell,” Alexia panted.
“Hum I think our two lovers should ride the pony,” Declared the former waitress, now taking the role of dungeon mistress.

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This torture was different again. The harsh wood intruding into the crevice of their most intimate parts. Now the women were bound together in a kissing seat. Urgent indeed were those kisses as whips rudely assailed each of them, driven with gusto by their captors. A hot heady euphoria seemed to capture the women. For a long time, no words passed between them, their mouths proclaimed their love in a much older way.
Yet again the women were parted. Urgent “I love you,” coming from each. For each a cross awaited. Each woman was suspended by tight cord, a narrow step a teasingly inadequate support for tired legs.

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Now the assault came in a new form. The dungeoneers brought out buzzing vibrators and held them to the clits of their captives. The Dungeon Mistress took Alexia while her minion took Paskell to the brink of shuddering pleasure and back again with the insistent unstoppable magic of a mechanical device.
When clits tired, glass dildos were brought forth, probing the fleshy deeps of the two women. Paskell found herself sinking intoa dream like confusion of pleasure and pain, her body cried out it was too much even as it urgently quested for more. At last exhausted she could only watch as the Dungeon Mistress teased her beloved with a battery powered wand.

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“Now who do you love most?” Asked the Englishwoman.
“Paskell,” Gasped out Alexia even as she rode out the throbbing crescendo of yet another orgasm that left her sweaty and gasping but utterly, proudly unbroken.

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Later that evening, Alexia and Paskell, two heroines of love, retired to their hotel room. What happened there? A reader can only guess…

............ Dungeon18.jpg ... Dungeon19.jpg ... Dungeon20.jpg ... Dungeon21.jpg ........... :rolleyes:

That's the end ...​
 
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