dungeon doll

**sex kitten

The men at the dungeon loved to see Dungeon Doll coming on stripper-theme night at the local dungeon. She was the life of the party. They loved getting lap dances from her. All they needed to do was play her fave songs and she was cued in to what they wanted. A bump and grind on their laps to the tune of:

  • Cliff Richard – Living Doll


  • or Hole – Doll Parts

I’d place her on their laps and turn the key on her back and she was their sex kitten. I was pretty sure some of the men got off by the end of the song. And it seemed like Dungeon Doll was enjoying herself as well. Her eyes were shiny and her cheeks were flushed.
Some of the men liked brushing or tugging on her tail and that made her squirm till I kissed her forehead to calm her down.
Some of the men liked tugging her long tresses or running their fingers thru it.
Occasionally, a man would get out of hand with her, but I always had a DM on standby when she was giving lap dances. The guy was usually new and didn’t realize what the ground rules were. Too bad for them, because they got a shorter night for their troubles. Or he had had a few and wasn’t thinking with his big head. He’d get a coffee and a warning before he was sent home in a taxi.
It was really exciting to watch her make her rounds and by the end, I was pretty excited too. I liked thinking of her as my surrogate. With some of the men that seemed to be true as well. They looked at me the whole time, like they wanted to do me on the dungeon floor. Right then and there.
But all they could do was let my doll dance on their lap…
It was at moments like that that I felt powerful. And oh so hot.
It never failed that when we got home, I had to go straight to bed. Ahem.

**in the traces

She was so excited when I told her what the theme of the night would be at the dungeon on the weekend. She had been looking for something harder in our activities, so she couldn’t wait. She started to practice her gait between the rods of the carriage that would carry me. Then she carried heavier and heavier things on the seat till she was sure it would be safe to carry me. But first came the dolls. Just to be sure she had her gait right.
Finally we practiced our entrance to the club.

She did me proud and I made sure she knew it with my smile. The crowd clapped as she pulled the cart in with me riding in a jockey’s outfit. Tapping her shoulders with the cat just so she felt it and got into the right mood for the show. She beamed.
All night, she got acolades from the dungeon members and she just soaked them up. All night, I got compliments on my doll and I beamed too.
It was a perfect night for us. A great opening for a new form of play for us. I knew she could handle it now.

So it began.

Rolling Stones – Beast of Burden

**meets my sadista self

I love little pains, little tortures. Unless they have a particular phobia, most people can get thru the early stages fine. So they are great for dolls. They might flinch or start on the first one. So long as I don’t over take their pain threshold, they can stay pretty still too. Especially if they focus on their telos.
But the pain builds as you get higher in the number of little pains you give. Yet you have changed nothing. It is as little a pain as the first one going in or on. So what is it? Fatigue? It’s not fear anymore. That should be gone by the first few. They know how it feels, they know what will happen.
I like the artistry too of the small pains I choose.  They look pretty when they are placed right. There is a symmetry to the patterns you can make and they are so personal in the graphic choices the sadist makes as they place them. And I like symmetry. I like unique. Even the same sadist, no matter how hard they try, cannot exactly repeat their own work. Not sure they’d want to either. Then they’d be dealing with caloused skin. What’s the point of that?
Dungeon dolly is a great maso, and I really enjoy our time together. She is developing quite the tolerance though, so we might have to come up with another little pain type. I also let a few friends try her, so she got different patterns and that did slow down her tolerance curve. Sometimes you just have to change things up. No matter how good a sadist you are.

**wrapped in leather

At the very beginning of my journey, a boyfriend showed me how to get out of every knot he put me in. He wanted me to feel safe and give me confidence.
When I went to bind others, I chose leather cuffs and bindings to keep those in my charge safe(r). For someone new, they are a better bet. In my opinion. And if you care for leather, it can last till you have grandkids. So that was the choice I made.
Plus, I was all about restraining the dolls. Making them gimps. By degree. I was never going to be a rigger. No one was going to fly at the end of my rope. And they looked kind of cute, especially with a matching cape. We could walk down a street and no one thought anything of their attire. Unless they were really in the know. And we could tell who they were by the grins on their lips.
At the dungeon or home, a bit of tightening and we could do advanced breath play. If we were careful there wouldn’t even be bruises.
Neither dungeon doll or I was into flogging and should she ever be in trouble, a quick rip of the velcro and she was out. Done by me if she was in crisis or her if someone was threatening her or she felt unsafe. She was bound only because she wanted to be in the cuffs.
And dungeon doll had her own unique service to me. To care for the cuffs. She seemed to find a lot of peace in that task.
**and I volunteer at the dungeon
Like any gathering, there was a lack of volunteers for big events at the dungeon. So I volunteered to be a dungeon master for some evenings. I took classes and followed a senior member for a few weeks. They gave me more authority each time, so they were pretty sure I could handle it when I soloed.
Dungeon doll volunteered to be a server in the juice bar. She and I went shopping to get her outfit together and she looked so cute. So adorable, no one paid attention to me. It was her shining moment and I was proud of her. She didn’t drop any trays and kept her cool. No matter how rude or fresh the members got with her. Perfect comportment at all times. It was like watching a girl go thru finishing school. She was the star graduate. So when we were on our way home, I picked up a cake and her sisters and I cheered for her success. She was very proud of herself too.

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