'Hello....' I replied, turning my head to face him. 'How do I look?'
He smiled. 'Like a cheap hooker... in other words, perfect. Come on, my dear, it's time for you to ply your trade...'
I rose, he offered me his arm, and led me away from the main roads that radiated from the square and into the warren of narrow lanes that ran in between. We walked for quite a while, my calf muscles screaming as they struggled to cope with the five-inch heels he'd provided for me. After so many twists and turns that I'd lost my way and found myself in a district I didn't recognise, he stopped at a shabby green door set into a blank brick wall. Taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he unlocked the door with a curious old key that hung from the loop on a length of rusty black iron chain. Standing back, he gave me a little push.
'After you...' he said.
I peered into the shadowy interior. Just inside the doorway a flight of stone steps descended into profound gloom. Reaching around me he felt for and flicked a switch. A weak wattage bulb illuminated the interior. At the bottom of the stairs a corridor led away. Gingerly I began to descend the steps. I heard him enter and relock the door behind us from within. Feeling for the damp brick wall I continued my descent. At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor ran to both my right and left, arched and lined with brick. The atmosphere was close, musty and dank. The air had that unmistakable chill of the cellar.
'Which way?' I asked.
'To your left, slut' he responded, his voice sounding curiously muffled down here in the depths. I walked on, my footsteps tapping on the stone-flagged floor, his own sounding hollow behind me. Eventually I came to a door that was made of heavy oak planks, bound with iron hinges and with a small grille about six inches square set in at eye level. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow, my mouth curving in a smile. Somehow this seemed all too predictable, like a stage-designer's idea of a dungeon.
'Here?' I asked.
Blandly he smiled back at me. 'Here' he agreed, approaching the door and unlocking it with a black key very similar to that which had opened the outer door. I entered the dungeon, for that was evidently what it was intended to be. It was a room about eight feet square, with the same arched roof as the corridor and walls of brick that sweated damp, their surfaces covered with flaky white deposits and towards the floor, green slime. On two walls there were flaming torches for illumination, and these had been thoughtfully lit in advance. On the floor stood heavy altar candlesticks in which great fat red candles burned, giving off that delicious scent of melting wax. The other walls were fitted with various iron bands and chains and other intriguing methods of restraint, not to mention a large number of implements of correction. I walked in and examined them, curious as to how each worked. Some were obvious in their intentions, others.... well no doubt he would know. In the ceiling a narrow ventilation shaft went up to the street but no natural light was discernable through it. The bright autumn day was immaterial down here where it was never day and never night but always something in between.
This time he'd surprised me. We'd never been anywhere like this before and I wondered what was coming next. 'What have you got in store for me?' I asked, my voice sounding thin and uncertain - surely only the effect of the atmosphere... Despite the chill in the air, I felt excited. I hoped whatever it was wouldn't be too painful but he wasn't usually into pain. He preferred showing me off and making me do things where other people could see. I wouldn't have figured a private dungeon would be really his cup of tea.
He seemed to sense and relish my uncertainty. He pulled me towards him, pinching my nipples and then one hand slipping under my skirt to toy with my labia.
'I brought you here for a reason, my pet' he told me, his fingers circling my clit and thrusting suddenly deep into my cunt. I gasped, squeezing him as tight as I could.
'What reason?' I asked.
'A bit of business actually' he told me, unapologetically. 'There's a deal I'd dearly like to close and I'm told my opposite number - a Dutchman by the way - is fond of.... well let's say the services that you and I are particularly well-placed to offer him - you in one way and I in another.' I wasn't sure I liked the sound of this.
'What way?' I asked.
His fingers continued to play with me as my cunt spilled its juices down my thighs.
'You have a body that he will enjoy using and that body is mine to dispose of...' he told me. It was true. He'd made me his and time and again I'd told him he could do what he liked with me. Being part of a business deal hadn't happened before now but there was a first time for everything. 'His fantasy...' he went on, whispering in my ear, 'is to come across some whore being held in a dungeon for her sins and to be allowed to give her some of what she so richly deserves...'
I shivered. How much of what she deserves, I wondered, and who decides what's reasonable?
'Relax, little one, you'll probably have a lot of fun...' he told me. 'And one thing's for sure,' he continued, his fingers fucking me more vigorously now, so that I moaned and clung to him, one leg wrapped around his waist to afford him maximum access, 'I shall certainly enjoy watching you...'
His mouth closed over mine, his tongue invading my mouth. I relaxed. If he was going to watch he'd look out for me, I'd be safe. The kiss went on for quite a while, but when he released me he said hoarsely, 'Don't worry about the clothes, I've something much nicer for you to wear later, and I'll take you somewhere REALLY special as a reward, my darling.'
I smiled. I couldn't help it, the idea of being used as a sweetener in a business deal did appeal to the inveterate whore in me.
'I'll be fine' I said. 'Where are you going to put me?'
'Good girl' he said. 'That's the attitude I like. And I love the way you're already looking forward to being used by this stranger... you slut.'
I purred, his words turning me on. I loved it when he told me what a slut I was. He lifted one of my wrists and secured it to a leather cuff hanging on a thick iron chain from the ceiling. My other wrist was similarly fastened, so that both arms were raised above my head and I was left dangling in the middle of the room. I wasn't pulled off my feet, but given the height of my heels I knew this position, which was not comfortable now, would quickly become unbearable. He bent and fiddled with a loop of metal at my feet and as he stood I realised he'd threaded a narrow length of chain through the loop. Reaching under my skirt he clipped each end of the chain to one of the rings through my labia. There was a definite pull as soon as the second clip was attached and my movement was now totally restricted as any action on my part would put a very unpleasant strain on my piercings. I was tethered vertically into position. He stepped back, satisfied.
'You'll be watching, won't you...' I asked, my voice threadbare, nerves now mastering my earlier excitement. He stroked my nipples, which were taut with fear.
'I don't intend to miss a moment of this, my whore. You'll be performing for me, in whatever it is you do for him. Give him satisfaction and you will satisfy ME.' His fingers moved once more to my cunt and stroked the stretched labia, slipping inside again briefly. He removed his fingers and wiped them on my face, smearing my lipstick.
'The finishing touch' he said. 'Delightfully slutty. I'll go now, my dear. But I'll be seeing you...'
And he left me, turning the key in the lock, unnecessarily, from the other side. As I heard his footsteps retreating away down the corridor, I felt a huge surge of fear, terrified suddenly that something would go wrong and I'd be left here and forgotten about. I tried to calm myself down. This was a commercial venture surely; someone somewhere knew where I was, not just my Master. And then there was the Dutchman, the man who loved punishment. He too must know where I was. Chained in the dungeon, chilly, alone, nervous, I awaited my visitor. My arms were aching already but the only way to relieve the pressure on them was to stand on tiptoe. If I tried that, however, it put more pressure on my labia. There was nothing to be done but to hang there and to hope that my client would arrive soon. There was nothing like my current physical discomfort to make me look forward to whatever was coming next. It would have to be an improvement on just waiting here, surely... The candles flickered, sending shadows dancing around the walls. I could see grossly-distorted versions of myself greyly moving on the walls. My muscles ached. But all the same, there was something about having to stay here, helplessly, for some man who would use me for his pleasure, and knowing that in reality I was being prostituted to him for the sake of a business deal that made my cunt drip...
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