The Munch

“What the hell.”

Sometimes she just threw caution to the wind.  Driving down the mid-state highway to a destination she had never been to before. Her life was full, busy, fulfilling.


But inside, inside where no one dared to go? She laughed to herself, thinking of ancient mariners and old sea maps…”there be dragons”, and knew that was apt for her inner headspace.

Her dragons were myriad. Bondage and forced fucking. Group sex or gangbang. Tit torture and anal plugs. If it was kinky, she wanted to try it.

But she never did.

She sat in safety in her apartment, maple trees running their cycles from bare skeletons, to greenly leafed,  to colored miracles. She read, she craved. She watched, she rubbed. She dreamed.

The kink list she was on had a semi local group.

But she never was brave enough to go. Boyfriends came and went, some would spank, some would take her ass. And there was that douche one, who had tied her up and left her for 4 hours to watch football. How she had anticipated that fucking!  But alas! The fucktard had fallen  asleep on the couch and got up and left at midnight, completely forgetting her until morning, when he returned, sheepishly, and set her free. She could look back at that and smile a bit.

There’d even been a few short-term Dom’s. Master Hurtsalot, oh, he was a piece of work. All whips and chains and bluster. He should have been called Mr. Premature Ejaculation, in leather pants.

Mr. M had been great, very strong, very controlling, but she found him too late, as he was preparing a move to the Netherlands. They’d had a few very hot sessions, and still traded occasional emails.

Now she’d done it. Seen the blurb on the website announcing a Munch. She had finally decided she had nothing to lose.  And who knew what she would find?

What the hell?!


She’d dressed carefully. Not wanting to appear too sluttish, she still wanted to fit in. Dammit, why was this so hard!? In the end, she chose a soft pink sweater, very tight-fitting, showing off her jutting tits. A simple black skirt looked discreet, coming midway to her knees, but the sides were slit to her hip. She chose black fishnet stockings, crotchless of course, and triple strapped 4 inch heels in black leather. The studs across the straps were silver, and coordinated with her silver hoop earrings with the floating pink beads.

After some debate, she wore her long hair loose, but slipped a scrunchy pink hair tie around her wrist for an emergency pony tail fix.

She inspected herself in the mirror. Subtly slutty, definitely sexy. She took a deep breath.

She was ready.


She arrived at the Dungeon. A D/s bar outside the city limits, she’d driven past here a million times. Never had the gumption to stop, but, as they said, that was then, this was now.

She found a parking spot, and swallowed the nerves threatening to choke her. Her nipples rose, her breathing shortened and she took herself to task.

“Calm the fuck down.”

“Calm the fuck down.”

She slipped from her little mini car, and, despite shaking knees, walked to the door.

There was electricity in the air when she opened the door. Colors, lights and the throbbing of some alternative music through the walls, the floor.  And people. So many different kinds of people. A man walked by, tall, golden-haired, wearing a spiked collar and …dear goddess. A cock cage! She didn’t want to stare.

She couldn’t help staring.

She’d never before seen a man’s penis subjected to this! It was fascinating. It looked cruel. The shiver ran down her spine without warning, and her nipples peaked. The caged man gave her a sidelong glance, and a pointed look at her chest. He smiled, then grimaced a bit.

She looked down, and saw his cock swelling, and the proud flesh of his cock being bitten by the teeth lining the cage. OMG! She’d hurt him…!

“Sorry…” she mouthed.

He merely smiled and moved on.

She stepped further into the room. Some kind of demonstration was happening on the right side of the room, a woman holding a short whip was slapping at yet another man, who was tied, spread-eagled and standing. She saw large rings in the floor to which his ankles had been tied, and two more suspended from the ceiling. Her voice was rich, deep, sultry, as she showed a variety of whips and spanking implements, using each in turn on her live model.

She might have thought he hated it, from the moans and groans, but his cock was rigid, jutting out towards the crowd. As she passed by, she heard the Mistress warn him not to cum “or else”.

With all those implements at hand, she could only imagine the “or else”.

She tried not to gawk. But the girl in gossamer pants and topless was sooo pretty. The multiple clamps affixed to her tits made her nipples engorged, and the swinging chains, from delicate filigree to heavy tow chains were enthralling to watch as the girl moved around her Owner, serving him a drink before settling between his feet.  How could she not watch when the girl took his cock in  her hands, and stroked it? It was so thick she doubted the small thing could even fit it into her mouth, and she had to watch just to see how she did it. Didn’t she?

Watching that little mouth swallow that monster of a cock made her pussy throb into life.  She swallowed hard, imagining her in that place, chains clanking as she bobbed up and down  on that thick meaty cock.

She’d only been here  a few minutes, and already she was so glad she had come. Open kink, sexually free people, and a wealth of visual stimulation. She continued to thread her way towards the bar.

What the hell!