Sinful Submission

6 ~ Entering The Dungeon.

When your lecturer tells you she is taking you to The Dark Dungeon, where would you think she was talking about? And maybe… You might be on the edge of getting bound.

RYDER

She didn’t say a word after that. She just retracted her hand and walked toward the stairs, her hips swaying like a warning.

Her legs were long and graceful, her skin still glowing with sweat and s*x. I followed, half in a trance, and half ready to snap from the tension building in my body.

Her ass flexed as she climbed the stairs, each step a silent dare. I could still see it—a little of my precum and her squirt, slick between her thighs, trailing slowly downward as she moved.

I licked my lips.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hooded. “You like watching my p***y leak for you?”

Fuck.

My p***s twitched in response.

She smirked and turned away again. “That twitch between your legs? It won’t survive what I’ll do to you when I let you in.”

We reached a hallway with polished wood floors and dim lighting. A single crimson bulb glowed near the end, like a heartbeat pulsing at the edge of something dangerous.

She stopped at a thick black door with a chrome handle.

My heart thudded faster. What makes this feel so familiar? Should I step in or not?

“Ready?” She asked, one brow arched, her voice silken.

Subconsciously, I nodded, swallowing hard.

She opened it—and stepped into the dark.

I followed.

And everything changed the moment I stepped into it. The air was cooler here—Heavy and Sensual.

A low amber light flickered on automatically, revealing walls draped in deep red velvet and black leather panels. The floor was dark hardwood, almost black, smooth and polished to a sinful shine.

And the room...

It was a temple of control and pleasure.

Along one wall, a St. Andrew’s cross stood tall—black, bolted into the wall with steel cuffs dangling from each arm. Beside it, a sleek bondage bench rested low, padded in blood-red leather, straps coiled neatly like waiting serpents.

The far corner held a four-poster frame—not a bed, but a rig. Chains hung from above, adjustable cuffs swinging gently. Hooks lined the sides for toys. Restraints. Implements of pleasure… or punishment.

A bed was in the middle laid with red sheets.

A glass cabinet displayed rows of items:

Floggers of all textures—suede, leather, and horsehair.

Riding crops.

Polished steel dildos.

Vibrators.

Clamps and cuffs.

And a velvet-lined drawer slightly ajar, revealing ball gags and blindfolds.

On a nearby shelf sat a collection of ropes, folded in perfect loops—deep red, black, and natural tan. Beside them, a coiled cat-o-nine-tails, the ends knotted, darkened slightly from use.

The scent in the air?

Warm wood. Leather. Faint candle wax. And something primal. Even something more her.

I couldn’t breathe for a second. My eyes blinked non-stop as I tried to grab something but couldn't find it.

“s**t,” I murmured.

Alessia turned to face me, fully naked in the middle of her domain. Her lips curled.

“This is where I don’t pretend anymore, Ryder,” she said, stepping closer. “In here… I don’t flirt. I don’t tease. I control.”

She walked to the cross, trailing her fingers along the cuffs. “Ever had your wrists cuffed while you were ruined from the inside out?” She asked, her voice low.

I shook my head. But my heart beat faster. I'm lying.

She smiled wider. “Good. I like breaking in first-timers.”

My p***s pulsed at her words yet I am not a first-timer.

She sauntered over to a rack of floggers, trailing her fingers along their handles. “Do you want the sting of my whip or the ache of being denied?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because I don’t know.

I wanted whatever she gave me. Maybe… Every bit of it.

Then she pointed at the chair.

“On all fours. Your hands behind your back. And don’t speak unless I tell you to.”

As I knelt, I glanced over my shoulder. I saw her pick one up—a sleek, silver plug—and walked toward me.

I froze. My legs were shaking visibly as my heartbeat quickened. It could be heard from far off.

She smirked. “Ever had a plug stretch you open while your c**k leaks from being untouched?”

My body tensed. “No. I… I… I’m not gay.”

She ran a finger along the smooth shaft. “But your twitching hole says otherwise.”

“I’ve never done that,” I lied, my voice low. “And I don’t think I will.”

She hummed, likely knowing I was lying. “That’s fine,” she whispered. “We will start slow.”

She set the plug down then walked to a high-backed leather chair, spreading her legs, glistening with our tension.

“Come here, Ryder.”

I followed her order and I dropped to my knees.

The scent of her hit me like a spell—ripe, feminine, warm and tangy with the remnants of her earlier orgasm.

I buried my face between her thighs. But I remained there unable to do anything.

“What are you waiting for?” She scoffed. “Oh… my order. You are such an obedient student, aren't you?”

My tongue flattened against her entrance, slow and reverent. Her taste—f**k—it was addictive. Salty-sweet. Raw. Alive.

She gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair.

I licked slow, upward, circling her c**t with the tip, teasing her on my own accord. Her hips buckled. I wrapped my hands under her thighs and dove deeper, my tongue dipping in and out, lapping, and curling her wet folds.

She moaned above me, her legs trembling.

“Starving, aren’t you? Eat it like your survival depends on it.”

And yes, I've been starving for her. For this moment. For the power she gave me in this moment—my mouth on her, my body singing beneath me. But I want more. I want more of her in my mouth.

And I can't wait for her to worship me with her goddamn squirt.

“I can't imagine what your c**k looks like now.” Miss Alessia said, her voice echoing from above.

I didn't want her to breathe and I knew what I wanted so I took it to the next level.

I devoured her like a man unhinged.

She threw her head back, her legs trembling and splayed in the air, as my tongues stroked her insides while she pulled my hair.

“You filthy little thing. Look how greedy your mouth is for my pussy.” She moaned, her voice a primal one. “Yes, I wanna cum.”

She screamed as jet after jet of orgasm flowed out from her like a broken dam. A hot, thick splash of it painted my face as it drained her of control, of shame, and of air.

Her hand froze mid-air, while my lungs sucked in the smell of it. She curled her toes and trembled, every nerve in her body alight and aching from release.

“You think you can own me with your tongue, Ryder?” Her voice cracked through the thick, s*x-drenched air like a whip.

She raised my head, only to freeze—paralyzed by the sight of my face.

I was drenched. Utterly, obscenely drenched in her c*m.

It streamed down my face in sticky trails—from my forehead, across my cheeks, clinging to my lashes, and pooling along my jaw. Even my tongue flicked over my bottom lip, as if I was sampling her filth like a leftover Cereal from an infant.

“Now get on the bed. I’m not done draining you.”

I screamed NO from my mind but my body… It wanted otherwise.