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finding myself somewhere between the commercial and the…

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* * *
finding myself somewhere between the commercial
and the priceless...

in this dream, a friend informs me that "it's ready."
she leads me through an indoor shopping mall to what
looks like a boutique. she grins and says, "it's yours."

it's mine. it's a dungeon for hire. i own a dungeon.
the shiny metal sign says the name is "brass apples".
(and i really have no idea what that means.)

i enter and meet a handful of sentries who look like
they could fold a trespasser in half with one hand.
a lovely young lady gives me a tour of my enterprise.
she leads me through rooms of various appointments for
various affectations and fetishes. she points out
the private rooms that offshoot from the main themed
areas. we even have a kitchen for refreshments...
with a small area sectioned off for kitchen fetishists.

i remember thinking this is something of a party,
an invitation-only event. the membership is vetted
and established; they know the rules, they play well.
i celebrate with my trust-worthy staff. i roam the
rooms and enjoy the energy to a point of intoxication.

i turn the corners and climb the stairs and as i walk
into the necessary room, i let myself fall face-first
onto a plush bed. "need something, boss?" a vinyl-clad
mistress asks me in her sweet yet strong voice.

"i need to sober up... and i need to get off," i mutter
into the bedding. i don't even have to look to know
she's smiling. "alright. stand up." i wearily find my
feet. she steps behind me and slides a dark silk scarf
over my eyes, tying it under my hair. "i've got just
the thing for you," she coos. i hear her vinyl creak
as she turns and turns back. warm, firm hands settle
on my shoulders from behind. her voice is heavy with
authority when she says "take care of the boss."

"yes, mistress." a soft, husky male voice replies.
he turns me slowly. i roll my head over to say
"thank you, mistress," and she noisily blows me a kiss.

i'm led to a private room. his hands slide over my body,
removing my clothes as he reaches them. he guides my
hands in undressing him. he presses a kiss on me,
pushing me back and off-balance. i gasp, thinking
i'm going to fall over, but he catches my body and
my breath, sending my heart racing. he backs me
up against the bed and pulls me onto my knees.
kneeling on the bed, hands gripping, pulling, sliding,
grabbing, rubbing... with my eyes covered, i have
my other senses drowning in luxurious overfill,
especially my flesh and a waterfall of friction.

he uses his body to guide me, and i follow every move,
every flexion and contraction. he pulls me astride
him. i moan a gasp at his heat entering mine. i ache
for each breath that accompanies each thrust and
collision. the electric charge gathers at the base
of my skull and shoots down my spine. as i feel
my orgasm building, i rip off my blindfold and gaze
into his eyes. i scream rapture and shudder ecstasy.
i collapse onto him, and i feel his hands slide over
my tremors.

his voice is ragged with heavy breathing, but he
manages to exhale, "yes, mistress." i sigh in return,
"thank you, mistress."

what is the cost of your breath?...
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