Down the dungeon

Despite that I'm rather simple nowadays, I still came across as this and that.

It must be one of those good old moments: that I had piles of money but didn't know how to burn it. I knew people who lost a boat that he never had, by sitting and did nothing. Those who did something with their 401k's, it's not uncommon to lose half of it. Even if you paid down your mortgage, the meager few percent didn't make up the devaluation in dollar. So I burnt it on hookers, brilliant.

But this time it really wasn't hookers, I was bored a bit. LA has a few well known dungeons and how could I not give them a visit? Imagine being in a torture chamber, or better still, a classroom? I would have gone a long time ago if I could find a good looking submissive. Dominas are much more attractive, but I have no interest being pushed around. Natasha looked good enough. How could I go wrong with her legs? But I knew there must be some catch. I knew she was a bit older, but I didn't know how old. And I doubt if there would be any sex involved. If sex was included, it would be a brothel wide open for business. But still, there are plenty of establishments getting away with sex. Without better things to do I went there anyway.

The dungeon was in North Hollywood. The neighborhood looked like a normal suburb, big houses and apartments with surrounding green lawns, except that all structures were surrounded with temporary metal fences, like those in a building site. The atmosphere thickens - a decadent house surrounded by metal fences! The number in the address might be included in an apartment complex, but no apartment with that number exited. So I began looking around for an address with a secret number. You know, those streets with, say, only number 19 missing. Sometimes 19 never existed or demolished, and some con artist took advantage of that. Sometimes 19 turns up in the most unexpected location, where the owner don't want you to find. Intriguing!

That was not my day. I exchanged the position of two digits in the address. I found out when I called them in desperation. It was a strange location. It was a cheap industrial area by the freeway. The dungeon shared a flat square structure with a car mechanics workshop next door.

The receptionist was a good looking girl, a bit goth, in some minor BDSM outfit, who talked as if she's a Dom. Natasha was available and I booked her for half an hour. They didn't ask what theme room I needed, and put me into the default common room, which had bits of everything.

Natasha didn't disappoint. She looked just like her pictures, especially her legs. She was very tall, beautiful face, nice body frame, nice shoulders, slender curves. But the catch was, she was older. Her body was soft to the touch, and her skin felt a bit weathered. But nothing unpleasant.

I though all the big and small toys in the room would be quite fun. The room looked tidy, but I could see that Natasha treated everything as poisoned. She wouldn't touch anything bare without wiping it first. She also brought her own toys in a plastic bag - ping pong ball bat, whip, etc.

She knew I'm a virgin in BDSM. She was patient, eager to please so I would come back for more. Without much thought, I tied her hands up on a horizontal beam hanging down from the ceilings. She was like being tied up on a cross, but in fact only her hands were tied, and stood up on her own.

The rules were very complicated. I didn't know if she made it up to suit herself, or those rules were devised by lawyers to overcome all the Cali penal codes. I could strip her naked of course, and I could be naked. I could touch her anywhere except for her kitty. The same for my penis. I could not use my mouth. So I did what a man would do to a woman tied up on a cross, but without violating the rules. I spanked her too. But I wasn't keen on using her bat and whip. I prefer bare hands. But usually after a smack or two I will sooth the pain with my lips. This time I couldn't and I lost interest in more spanking.

At the end I asked for a handjob. Even if I were willing to spend the money, finding someone quick from there would be a problem. She said she couldn't do it. I made sure that she got enough motivation to do it if she could. Just when I was about to do it myself, she said there's the option of a foot job. Did I say the rules were complicated? So that was the only time I got a foot job. The only time I went to a foot fetish session I didn't get it, I upgraded to something else.

It was fun. A few images came up in my head, including a classroom with some students. But perhaps, I should burn my money in real hookers instead.