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In the dungeon (CougarGirl and Lowblow Emma)

CougarGirl

Star
Joined
Nov 5, 2013
Location
A place in Wales that you can't pronounce
This is costing a lot, much more than I expected and more than I can afford, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to think of, so there’s no way to avoid the expenditure. It will be worth it in the end, though, that’s for sure.

It’s going to take a lot of strength to see it through, but I’m equipped for that. Physical strength isn’t a problem. My military training has made me tough enough to endure whatever she can come up with, although I’ve not been through anything like this before. Mentally, though, that’s different, that could be a problem. This woman has a mean reputation. She’ll not just be working on my body, she’s sure to work on my mind as well. The military train you for that too, but this is a whole different ballgame from what I’ve been prepared for. Will I have the determination to stick to my plan?

As I turn into the side street, I notice my knees shaking. The door is half way down on the left-hand side, plain with no markings to indicate what is inside. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and knock on the door. It is opened by a smartly dressed middle-aged woman wearing a white blouse and a knee length dark skirt. She’s doesn’t smile, but takes my name and leads me down a corridor, past anonymous doors, distinguished only by the small number painted at eye level. As we walk past each door, I hear groans and an occasional scream coming from within. I ignore it as just too obvious, a trick to unnerve clients.

My guide shows me into a windowless room and leaves the door ajar. I look around in amusement: bare walls, a dirty floor, a few rails and hooks with chains dangling from them, some metal shelving holding a variety of clips, pliers and such. This is like something out of a B movie, another trick to unnerve timid clients who are looking to be scared for a thrill, just more mind games. This could be easier than I thought.
 
It’s amazing to think how much things have changed since I took over the business. That was almost 20 years ago now. Then it was just a dingy back street outfit with a sparsely equipped dungeon and a couple of dispirited doms. Now we’re in new premises catering to a wide range of fetishes with some top class doms. To see the change you just have to check out the cctv feed from some of the dungeons.

There’s a politician in No 1, being spanked so that he can learn what happens when he upsets his constituents.

Next door in No 2, one of the larger chambers, there’s a hen party. Not sure what’s going on there, but they’re all chained together with nipple clamps at the moment.

While further along at No 5 there’s a bridegroom being ass-fucked with a strap-on so he’ll know what it’ll be like for his bride on their wedding night.

I’m not sure who the guy is in No 8. But he looks cute – muscular and tough despite being chained with weights dangling from his balls; I’ll check his details.

No time for that right now, though, I have to prepare for a client. What with running the business, I don’t get to see many clients nowadays, just the few who are prepared to pay the premium for my personal attention. And this guy’s prepared to pay my price and more. I check over his answers to our questionnaire – all clients now provide a list of their requirements and sign a disclaimer. He seems willing to try anything; he’s ticked the box that leaves it to my discretion. I like that box. I love discretion.

The client arrives on time and I watch on camera as he is shown into my private dungeon in the oldest part of the building. I’ve left it very much as it was. Very atmospheric. I always leave them on their own for a few minutes, allowing their imagination to work on what might happen to them.

Time to decide what to wear. I don’t go in for the more fanciful costumes that some of my doms use. Plain and simple has always suited me best. I make my choice and change.
 
She’s not what I expected. For someone in her mid to late 40s, she’s still a stunner. She’s wearing black stockings that peep over the tops of her thigh-high soft leather boots. Above the flash of white thigh, there’s a silk thong and lace bodice, both in black. Her shoulders are broad and her arms muscular. Her short-cropped black hair – it must be dyed but I don’t see any roots – sets off her pale face that matches her thighs. As she strides around me, her thigh muscles flex and her ass moves in time with the flicks of her crop against her boot. Impressive. I enjoy the view.
 
He turns to face me as I enter. He’s nicely built, wearing shirt and slacks with a casual smile. In his early 20s I’d guess.

I press the button to lock the door.

‘You can’t get out without the code and only I have the code’ I explain. He nods; he understands.

Now it’s time to wipe that smile off his face. I switch into my dom mode.

‘Why are you still dressed?’ I demand. ‘Get that kit off.’

Off come the shirt and slacks. As a professional, I try to stay detached, but I am a woman after all and the sight of his muscular body makes my knees weak. He stands in his underwear - the smallest of red briefs and a tiny tight red vest.

‘Nice.’ I can’t stop myself saying.

‘Red – it won’t show the blood.’ I add hastily to cover myself.

I wave my riding crop and off come the rest of his clothes, leaving him standing there in just his smile.

‘Stand up straight while I check you over’ I command.

I walk around, checking him out, mainly I’ve got to admit for my own pleasure. Everything is in proportion, except his cock, which is just a tiny mushroom head poking out above his balls. Like it’s checking whether it’s safe to come out and play. It’s not unusual for guys to be nervous.

I flick the tip of my crop across his right nipple. He doesn’t even flinch. Same with his left nipple. A smart crack across his abs barely registers on his face. I move round and lay a series of lashes across his ass. His flesh glows but his muscles are like rocks.

The point of this is mainly psychological. Clients say they want to be tortured, but often all they want is to feel a bit of pain. The dom has to work out what the client can take and then make it seem like it is what they’ve dreamt about.

Unlike most who come here, this guy isn’t a fantasist. He’s going to be a tough one to crack. But everyone breaks - in the end. And I mean everybody.
 
She puts on a good show. Talking about blood and locks that can’t be opened. All that strutting around, barking out commands, she’s just like a drill sergeant on parade. That crop thing, though, what a silly prop. It just spoils the overall effect. I ask you, can anyone seriously believe her with that?

The crack across my right nipple changes my attitude. That thing is no prop, but it’s just a tickle. Like a gnat’s fart compared to the stuff I got in my interrogation training. So long as I’m prepared, I’ll be OK with this. I carry off the flick across my other nipple, but she follows up with a blow to my abs so fast that I only just manage to conceal my surprise. But it’s only surprise, not real pain. If this is all she’s going to do, I’ll walk this easy.
 
There’s one sure way to break a guy. It never fails. I move round and drive my knee up into his balls. Fast and hard. The leather of my thigh boot crushing his exposed tackle. He gasps and grunts. At first it looks like he’s going to stay upright, but suddenly he doubles over.

Well it’s worked once, so I’ll do it again. I pull him up by his chin and drive my knee into his groin a second time. I hold him there for a moment, enjoying the sharp exhalation of his breath. Then I let him drop. Down he goes onto his knee, sucking in deep breaths of air.

Always kick a man when he is down, that’s my motto. So I move behind and send my foot flying between his thighs. A loud gasp and he’s rolling on the dirt of the floor – I bring it in specially for effect.

‘No, no, no’ I exclaim. ‘I didn’t give you permission to lie down. You do nothing unless I give you permission. But I’ll make it I easy for you. Stand up.’

He stands up, dirt sticking to the sheen of sweat on his chest. I notice he isn’t smiling now. I select a length of chain and some clips from a shelf. He watches as I throw the chain over a rail above his head and attach a clip to each end. Then I snap the clips onto his nipples. It gives him a bit of freedom to move, but not much. There’s no more than an inch or two of slack in the chain.

‘That should stop you falling over’ I tell him with satisfaction. ‘Let’s just test it to be sure.’
 
Shit. That took me completely be surprise. I was expecting something subtle, psychological, but she’s just gone straight for the pain. No messing around, just pain pure and simple. That’s what we were taught by the army guys – the crudest methods can be the most effective. And naturally they didn’t train us for this sort of treatment. You don’t go around smashing each other’s balls, even the army has too much respect for us as men to do that. But this woman doesn’t have any respect. Maybe she needs to be taught. But there’s no time to think about that now. My main concern is to stay on my feet, not let her see she’s hurt me.

Shit, shit. This pain just gets worse, so I have to give in and go down. I’m preparing myself to stand up and show her how I can take it when she pulls me up herself, by the chin, like she’d treat a child. And then before I can brace myself, she’s buried her knee in my balls. I manage to stop myself crying out, but she holds me up like I can’t manage to stand on my own, grinding away into my raw balls. My face is right in her tits, watching them rise and fall steadily. Until she releases me and lets me fall. Her tits slip from my view. I manage to stay on one knee and try to get myself together, mentally as much as physically. All I can think about is the damage she’s doing. I have plans, sex, marriage, family, all of those seem a bit dimmer right now. She I definitely going to regret this, just as soon as I get back on my feet.

Shit, shit, shit. ‘Noooooooo’ I can’t stop the scream this time, as her foot lifts me off my knee and leaves me rolling on the floor. Fuck, oh fuck. All I can think of are expletives that flash into my mind between the spasms of pain. I curl up and cradle myself, desperately trying to protect myself from any further attacks.

She finally goads me into standing up, but it’s difficult to stand upright. As soon as I try, another spasm doubles me over. I try to stand proud like on parade, to look her in the eyes, show I can take this. But shit, I’m not going to be able to take much more. Do guys really pay for this?

She puts on another show, selecting a suitable chain, lots of rattling as she throws it over a rail. Let her, the longer she takes, the longer I have to get my mind working again through this pain. I wonder what she is doing, which is of course exactly what she wants. As soon as she clips my nipples, I get the message. She’s going to make me stay upright, which can only mean she has plans for more pain.

Why oh why did I tick that discretion box?
 
He braces for another knee, but instead I step back and plant a kick onto his left nut. His reaction is instinctive and almost instant, doubling over until he has taken up the slack in the chain and finds himself pulling his nipples off.

He snaps smartly upright, to be met by a punch in his nuts. Again he sinks and this time cries out as he straightens up.

‘Yes’ I say with evident satisfaction, ‘that’s just right.’

As I step back, my eyes wander down and noticed that his cock is now extending. Not far, but noticeably longer than before, not that that says much.
 
Fuck. I can’t take much more of this. Knees, punches, my balls feel like punch bags. There’s no way I can prepare, she’s ringing the changes all the time. The only way to survive is to overcome my instincts, but she’s got me trapped. If I give in to the pain in my balls, I get my nipples ripped off. And the only way to prevent that is to endure the pain in my battered balls. I was planning to see my girlfriend tonight, but the way this is going I’ll need to put that on hold. I’ll need to act quickly while I still can. That’s my only hope. Whatever I do, I mustn’t show any weakness, she’ll only feed on that. Just let me hold out until I get my chance.
 
‘I’ve left your hands free, so you can release the clips whenever you want. But of course then you’ll be punished.’

A less experienced dom would have tied his hands. But experience does not always bring wisdom.

Time to work from behind. A good thrashing with my crop lays a series of wealds across his back. I watch his buttocks clench as I turn them red with blows and he fights to stay on his feet. Interspersed with some flicks of the crop between his legs to keep them sore. Then round to the front again and a hard kick into his nuts. Crushing them into the pelvic bone. He doubles over, feels his nipples rip and straightens with a scream.

‘Scream as loud as you want’ I tell him, ‘all the rooms are sound proof. No one will hear; no one will come to rescue you.’ This is true. The screams and groans that clients hear are all recordings broadcast for effect. There is no way anyone can call for help.

Satisfied that I have finally made this man scream, I move in to claw his crotch, to be met with a knee into my own.
 
I had to do it. I couldn’t take any more. They train you well in the military, but not to take this sort of punishment. The thrashing I could cope with and the ripping of my nipples too. But this damage to my balls is getting me worried.
If this had been some real military thing and I had to keep a secret or let my mates down, I’d have carried on. There’s no doubt about that. But I’m here for a reason and it has nothing to do with military secrets or anything like that. This is personal and it is time for me to take control.

From her behaviour I’d say she sees me as a tough guy who has to be broken. She’s been keeping her distance. I need to get her off guard, make her think I am weakening, draw her in closer. So I let out a scream, trying to make it sound real. She falls for it and moves in for some close quarter grappling with my balls.

I didn’t have to do a thing. Just brought up my knee. They taught us that in training. Girls fight just as hard as men and they’re just as vulnerable. Don’t treat them gently. Go in hard or you’ll regret it. She walked right onto me and fuck she went down hard, never knew it would take her like that, she must be very delicate down there.
 
The pain takes me by surprise, was it really this bad for a girl? Before I can react, he has released the clips, delivered another knee into my groin and flattened my tits with his fists. The force of the blows throws me onto my back in the dirt, knocking the wind out of me. He grabs my thong and rips it off, rolling me over and tearing my bodice off to leaving me face down on the floor. The next thing I know, my hands are tied and I’m hanging from the rail in the ceiling. How the hell did this happen? There’s no time to figure it out now as my client is flicking me between my thighs with one of my own whips.
 
I have to move fast. Think clearly, that’s what my trainer said. First things first, get these bloody clips off, give myself freedom to move. Then, into the attack. Follow up fast and put her down. No mercy. Don’t rely on your first blow being effective; often it’s just surprise, and as soon as your opponent recovers they’re back at you before you know what’s happening. The pussy blow put her down so another should put her out. Another knee, high fast and hard followed up with a double tit punch. She’s down and winded, but I need to keep her moving, stop her reorientating herself. Get those clothes off, taking away the psychological advantage of being clothed with me naked. And turn her onto her face, that’ll stop her fighting back.

But I mustn’t forget that she has decades of experience that I lack, so I need to tie her and make sure not to make the same mistake as she did with me, leaving me freedom. There’ll be no freedom for her. It was so considerate of her to provide all the tools I need to use against her. A quick flick with one of those ropes and she tied, a quick toss over the bar, and one big heave. She hasn’t sapped my strength as much as I feared.

Look at her, swinging like a carcass in an abattoir. My balls are feeling better already. Now what shall I do? Give her a taste of what it’s like to have your genitals trashed. There must be whip here somewhere, no self-respecting dom would be without one.
 
It’s isn’t too bad. Not like those vicious knees. A rhythmic tingling of my clit, building with each flick of the leather. I pull myself up to ride each blow, but without too much effort because I am slowly becoming aroused. And that of course is when he stops.

I don’t have to put up with this. There’s a security system: a quick release button for the door, if I could reach it. There’s a monitoring system too: all the dungeons are covered by cctv, with someone monitoring it all the time. Usually, that’s me. All I need do is call out a code word and they’ll come and release me. But how embarrassing would that be, the owner having to call for help after all the lectures I’ve given the doms about taking care and not leaving themselves open, exactly the way I’ve done. I’ll play along until I get my chance to turn the tables on this guy. I’m certainly not going to show any weakness, to him or that bitch who’s monitoring this and probably got her friend in for a free show.

My crotch is pleasantly stinging although my arms are aching, as I swing back and forth watching with a mixture of professional detachment and fear as he selects a pair of pliers. I don’t have long to wonder what he’s going to do with them. He begins systematically to twist, turn and pull at my nipples. How has he homed in with such unerring precision on one of my most sensitive zones? Doms are there to deliver pain, not to endure it. I howl.

‘Scream as loud as you want’ he tells me, ‘all the rooms are sound proof. No one will hear; no one will come to rescue you.’

No they won’t, not unless I say the magic word. How long will I be able to hold out?
 
Whipping is fun. It’s good to be in control and have her at my mercy. I’m starting to feel better, my strength is slowly ebbing back in my muscles. Odd how a blow to a guy’s balls saps all his strength, but I’ve learnt a lesson there next time I’m in close combat. Smash the guy’s balls and he’ll not stand a chance.

Look at her swing and twist and turn. She’s pulling herself up to ride the shots; strong this one, I should have known that my her muscular arms. But I just adjust and aim higher, so she gains nothing except to tire herself out, while I get stronger and stronger.
I’m watching her face and I could swear she’s actually enjoying it. she’s swinging there with a whip flicking at her pussy and she’s actually enjoying herself. Fuck me, she’s tough. But everyone has their limit and I’m going to find hers.

Time to move in closer, to look into her eyes and smell her fear. She attacked my nipples, so I’ll go for hers and she has some nice vicious nipples clamps and other stuff. Let’s see if she gets off on having her nipples ripped like she did to me.

I move in close. Smell her perfume, feel her exhale from the shock, see the pain register in her eyes.

She doesn’t, she definitely doesn’t, so there’s only one thing to do – keep going. And when she howls, fuck that sounds so good. What was it she said to me? Yes, that was it.

‘Scream as loud as you want’ I tell her, ‘all the rooms are sound proof. No one will hear; no one will come to rescue you.’

And then I release the rope, letting her drop to the floor in a heap in the dirt.
 
Double fuck.

I land on the floor in a heap, the dust clinging to my sweat covered body. The jolt of my landing shakes my whole body. But at least the agony in my nipples comes to an end. But the relief is short lived as he trusses my arms behind me and hoists me so that only the tips of my toes can touch the floor, poking at my clit with the tip of a cane.

That was surprisingly pleasant in a way, but like before he stopped as soon as I began enjoying it. How did he know? Off he went again and returned with a length of rope, which he tied around my waist and through between my thighs. He held the end and playfully set me swinging, taking my weight on my arms and crotch, leaving me struggling to keep some contact with the floor.

This was different from before. The raw hemp of the rope cut into my crotch that was sore from the whipping, digging between my lips and rubbing across my clit as he pulled and swung me around. I began moaning and whimpering, praying he would stop. But of course he wasn’t going to stop until I started enjoying it. Realising this, I began to feign pleasure to conceal the pain in my arms and genitals, simulating the start of an orgasm. And, somehow, the pleasure actually began to take hold. Maybe thinking can overcome pain. And as I began to enjoy myself, I noticed his cock. Thickening and growing, but still only at half-mast. What did it take to get this guy hard? And that made me think. What more had he in store for me? He was doing to me what I had done to him. Crotch, nipples. That left the beating. Oh double shit and fuck. Beating. Of all the tortures I meted out to my clients, beating was the one that made me feel sick.

And that of course was when he stopped, dropped me to the floor and dragged me to the wall.
 
I grab her by the hair and drag her through the dirt towards the wall. She doesn't fight me. It is like she is frozen with fear, trembling slightly, wanting to resist, but being unable to. I hoist her up and drop her bound wrists over a hook. leaving her swinging, her feet unable to touch the ground. I push her from side to side, getting her swinging, her tits rubbing against the rough walls, grating at her nipples. I feel my cock stiffen. This I know is the moment, my moment of supreme control over her. I leave her swinging and walk across to the rack that holds the whips. I select one and give it a few experimental flicks. Then I walk slowly back towards her.

She's impressed me so far, I've got to admit that. She must have some way of calling for help. At the very least, she must have a camera monitoring what is happening in each of these cells. But she hasn't called. Or maybe that isn't how it works. Maybe whoever is watching doesn't want to help her and has just left her at my mercy. What the hell, either way, I don't care. Come what may.
 
Who the fuck is this guy? He can have a job here as a dom any time he wants. He certainly has the insight to know what punishment to inflict next and the skill to torment his victim by stringing it out. I know he's behind me now, I can sense him sorting through my whips. I can even tell which one he has selected from the noise it makes when he cracks it. Unerringly he has chosen the sharpest and most painful. I steal myself for what is to come.

I can't stop myself looking over my shoulder. In the foreground I see him standing sideways to me, naked, rampant, aroused by the pain he is inflicting, and the humiliation. Is that it, is that was is giving him such satisfaction, knowing that he has taken the owner and bested her? Well if that is what he thinks, this isn't over yet. Over his shoulder, invisible but there, is the lens through which everything in this dungeon is being recorded. In the monitoring room someone is watching. probably all the staff with time to spare are watching to see how he whips me, how I respond. Will I behave stoically, refusing even to acknowledge the pain or will I behave just like most of the clients and howl and beg for mercy.

The whip cracks and the pain cuts through my buttocks, forcing me to jump and swing, rubbing myself against the wall. I howl. I'm not too proud to cry out in my pain. And I howl again and again as the whip works up and down my back, returning to my buttocks before starting on its journey again. My back is on fire. I am beyond pain. I am too exhausted to cry out any more. I just hang limp and wait for this torment to stop.
 
I know I have found her weakness now. She has tolerated everything I have done to her. Never protested, never asked me why I am doing this to her. It has been as though she didn't care, as if she was saying to me, 'go on, go right ahead, do your worst, I'll show you I can take it.' But this time is different. This time she's not just in pain, she's afraid. I can smell it. Only her pride is preventing her giving in.

And this is having an effect on me. I glance down at my cock. It is rock hard, throbbing, waving from side to side with each crack of the whip. I've not felt like this for a long time, not since I was last in combat. I want to savour my triumph over her. I flick the whip lightly, just nicking the surface of her skin, then I lay down long thin slashes cutting her flesh open, letting the blood trickle down, watching it working it way, slowly, inexorably towards her buttocks.

She hangs limp now, no response. The opposite of my cock.
 
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