That makes me open my eyes and look at my hand. It’s tied to a headboard. It wasn’t a dream. Everything is real. I’m in hell. I try to kick my legs but quickly realize they’re tied down also.
No, no no!
What the fuck are they gonna do now!
My chest is heavy like it’s filled with lead, and it feels like hands are gripping my neck. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn as I hyperventilate, and scan the rest of the dimly lit room, but that doesn’t help my anxiety.
I’m in a sex dungeon. I might not be kinky, but I’ve watched BDSM porn before. The space is decorated in red and black. Giving the room a sexy yet elegant feel. It seems contradictory compared to the room I’ve been staying in.
On the wall with the door, there are hooks with ropes, paddles, whips and more things that I don’t know. There are dressers and cabinets that I can’t see what they hold. A bench sits in the middle of the room, a weird cross up against another wall.
Even the footboard looks odd. It is a half wall that looks like it can be separated, with three holes in it. A small, big and another small, it looks like some sort of medieval device that I saw pictures of.
The door opens, and my eyes stop roaming over the torture devices and lock onto the three men who walk into the room. They all look the same.
I must be imagining them and I count under my breath, needing to know how long they willbe there. Two of them stop at the foot of the bed while one walks towards me.
“Stop counting. You are not hallucinating, you’re out of your cell for tonight. Your punishment is over, and we can move on from it,” he tells me softly. He sits down beside me, and I recoil, attempting to shift away from him. I’m panting, and my body shakes.
I take a second to look at his face. He’s not wearing the hood anymore. This is the man who bought me. I can’t forget those emerald green eyes. They haunt me in my sleep.
His hair is a dark brown colour, and if it weren’t for the soft lighting in here, I’d think it was black. He has sharp cheekbones and a square jawline with full pink lips, but it’s what extends from them that catches my eye.
On either corner, he has about a 4 inch scar that curves up towards his ear lobes, marking him with a permanent smile. I saw that before in a history textbook. A Glasgow smile, if I remember correctly.
I look down towards the other two men, and they are the exact same as the one sitting beside me. I’m terrified to ask, but I croak out the words after I smack my chapped lips. “Can you see them too?”
He lets out a little laugh. “Yes, they are real. You have three masters. They are my brothers, or should I say wombmates? Triplets.” His words sink in, and I try to process them. I wasn’t crazy. I knew something was going on with his dick.
Their dicks?
Focus!
That’s not important right now.
I shake my head, but that was a bad idea. I’m so nauseous, and my stomach growls with hunger.
He must hear it, cause he looks at my belly. “Master B will go get you something to eat.” As he speaks, the one he called B walks out of the room.
“Tonight is just gonna be a relaxing night. Tomorrow morning you can shower, and in the afternoon we will play a game, understand?”
I can feel the colour leave my face as he says the last sentence. “What game? I don’t want to be locked up again, not alone.” I say in a panic, trying to suck in deep breaths.
In two, three.
Hold two, three.
Out two three.
I chant as I try to calm myself down. The one on the bed reaches out and cards his fingers through my hair. I wince when he grazes a certain spot, though the pain is familiar, and I push into it slightly to ground myself.
“Calm down. If you don’t pull yourself together, I’ll leave you tied up. Don’t you want to move your arms? Be a good pet for us and I’ll untie you.” The man coos like I’m an actual pet that he’s trying to calm.
I look back at him and take a few moments to relax. I do want to move. My limbs hurt, and I don’t know how long I’ve been tied up. “I’ll be good, I promise. I don’t want to be tied up,” I whisper.
He looks at his carbon copy at the foot of the bed and nods.The third man pulls out a straight razor. Before I can panic, he slices the ropes from the foot of the bed and tucks it away. I flex my legs slightly.
They no longer feel like they’re being pulled on, but pins and needles tingle up my calves, and I close my legs to prevent them from seeing my snatch.
