The Dungeon with an Ocean View

This story contains some BDSM and group sex as seen by a voyeur.

******

Mark closed his eyes and let the cool ocean breeze cleanse his soul. He could hear the waves break at the base of the bluff below and rush of cars on the road behind. He could feel the warmth of the coffee cup in his hands and the coolness of the bench on his back. Soon the sun would begin to warm him, but for now he embraced the morning chill.

He opened his eyes to see dolphins breaching out past the surfers waiting for their next ride. Runners in trendy colors passed on the side walk. Some pushed strollers and others talked on the phone.

"Mark? Is that you?" asked an immaculately coiffed woman in the most effortlessly trendy exercise outfit.

"Hey Shelley, what's up?" Mark couldn't remember the name of Shelley's boyfriend, who stood beside her. His coif was every bit her equal.

"Does Victoria know you're down here?"

"I don't know." Mark was honest without being helpful. It had been three weeks since he'd seen Victoria.

"You should give her a call, she's been looking all over for you."

Mark sipped his coffee, looked Shelley in the eye and said, "That's a good idea."

Shelley didn't understand what Victoria saw in Mark. He was about 5'10" to her 6'2". He always needed a haircut. He dressed like a bum in t-shirts and blue jeans. He was only marginally attractive, and he acted like he was too busy to bother with the important things in life, like a car, a house and a job. On top of that, he was a smart ass.

"Well, gotta run," she said. She ran down to the bend in the sidewalk and began to text on her phone.

"Oh fuck, here it comes." Mark thought to himself.

He took in as much of the surrounding beauty as he could. He listened for the sounds of the gulls and watched the pelicans rise and fall over the waves as the sun began to warm his back. Despite his attempt to relax, he could feel the adrenalin surge through his body. His hands began to tremble, and he knew that he would stumble over anything he tried to say.

He heard Victoria's overpowered car come to an abrupt halt behind him. He kept his eyes on the breakers while he heard the car door slam and Victoria's spiked heels strike the concrete. She came to a halt directly in front of him.

She was impeccably dressed in a business suit that encumbered her legs at the knees. Her hair, makeup and nails were perfect. Her tits would have been huge on a normal-sized woman, but for her they were proportionate.

She must have been 6'5" in her heels and stood close to get the full effect of her height.

Mark looked up to gauge her temper. He knew that he would eventually have to speak with her, and now was as good a time as any.

****

They had met a few months ago at an art gallery. On display were large paintings intended to cover oversized walls without being distracting. The patrons made selections based on color coordination and interior design with little regard for the quality of the art itself.

Mark had found an interesting piece that mixed browns and greens to evoke a forest without any of the lines or shapes of trees. He was standing back, squinting to see what it might look like from far away.

Victoria approached from behind and asked, "Do you like it?"

Mark turned to find a striking Amazonian beauty. She had dark hair and dark eyes, and a commanding way of carrying herself that oozed self confidence. "Yes. I like it a lot. Is it yours?"

"I bought it, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I meant, but it answers the question. You made a good choice."

"Thank you." She crossed her arms and admired her purchase.

Mark absorbed the painting then said, "There's painting back there that would go perfectly with this one." He pointed deeper into the gallery.

"Show me," she said.

He led her away from the cash bar and hors d'oeuvres, past the greater artists into the realm of the lesser artists. He stopped in front of a small stall displaying a single large golden yellow painting with greenish stripes. "Your painting is of a forest. This is a sun-baked desert with tall cactus and scrubby bushes. They belong together, like yin and yang."

She liked the painting, it matched her sofa, and supporting an emerging artist appealed to her. After a short negotiation it was hers.

Just as Mark was about to speak, Victoria's date intercepted her. "There you are," he said as he kissed her on the cheek. He was Victoria's height and looked like a male model. He spoke of something uninteresting.

"I've got to run," Mark said. "I have an appointment in fifteen minutes."

Victoria laughed. "You have an appointment at midnight?" She couldn't help but be charmed by this short man.

"I have a date with the moon." Mark pointed up to the sky and tried to act edgy as he left.

Victoria spotted Mark as she exited the gallery. He was sitting on the grass at the bluff across the street. A half moon was low in the sky. She wondered why he hadn't hit on her. Maybe she was losing her touch, or maybe he hadn't worked up his nerve. She decided to give him another chance.

"I don't think I've ever watched a moonset before," she said as she approached him from behind.

Mark stood, then he took off his jacket and laid it on the grass. "Please, have a seat." This beautiful, wealthy woman was obviously out of his league, but he was more than happy to enjoy her company, if only for a little while.

She thanked him and sat down. They watched in silence while the moon dropped below the horizon.

"It's not as spectacular as a sunset," she said.

"That's like comparing a single pale lily to a field of sunflowers."

After a few moments she asked, "What now?"

"I'd offer you a ride, but I'm on foot."

"Can you walk to your car?"

"I would need to have a car."

Victoria laughed. "You are an unusual creature to find at an art gallery in La Jolla."

"I was there for the free food."

"Didn't you get a commission for selling me that painting?"

"No, that was just as it appeared. There were only two worthwhile pieces in there and you bought both of them. You have a good eye."

Victoria was flattered. She had become jaded to comments about her beauty and was surprised by how happy his simple compliment made her feel. She asked if he was an art critic. He said that he was a writer. He was working on a novel, but mostly he was trying to figure out how to make a living writing blogs, phone novels and short stories that he posted online.

Victoria had grown accustomed to having money, and Mark had the look of a flake that always had an excuse for being broke. As she stood, she said, "I suppose I should go."

"Don't let me chase you away. There's going to be another moonset in about 25 hours." Mark struggled to think of a date he could afford to take her on. "What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?"

"I'm busy tomorrow." She paused and waited for him to ask the next obvious question, but instead he picked up his jacket and put it on. She gave up on waiting, "Do you want my phone number?"

Mark laughed. "My phone is with my car."

"You really are an odd creature. How does anyone get hold of you?"

"Mostly people don't, but you can find me at the library between 9 and 5."

Victoria concluded that Mark was going to be more trouble than he was worth. "Well, I know where to look if I need you."

Mark thought about her continuously for the next two weeks. He wrote about her in blog posts and worked her into a short story. He went over their conversation again and again in his mind. He tried to imagine an affordable date that would make an impression. In the end he figured that he did about as well as he could with the moonset.

On a Friday morning he stumbled upon her at the coffee shop near the library. "Hey, I was hoping I'd see you again," he made no effort to conceal his pleasure in seeing her.

She smiled and offered him the empty seat at her table. "I see you through the library window every time I walk by. You're always typing away." She wiggled her fingers like she was typing. "You work very hard for someone without a job."

"If only I could figure out how to make some money."

She laughed, "You should write a story about a man that falls in love with a woman who has a dark secret. As he falls deeper and deeper in love the secret is gradually revealed. Of course, there should be lots of sex. If you write that, I'm sure you'll be rich."

Mark smiled, "That sounds like a formula for success." He raised his paper coffee cup and said, "To success."

Victoria responded with a smile as she touched her cup to his.

It was a beautiful clear day with a light onshore breeze. They lingered at their table long after their coffee cups were empty. Victoria told him that she had grown up in Los Angeles. She moved south to go to college and then drifted into selling real estate. She'd planned to be a writer, but it didn't work out. Mark's story was similar, except that he was still a struggling author.

Over the following weeks the weather turned cold and wet. Victoria checked in at the library to find Mark surrounded by a collection of clothes drying on chairs. He was staring at the monitor, but his fingers were stationary.

She said, "There's a thing called a laundromat, where you can dry your clothes."

"I don't know if you noticed, but it's raining between here and the laundromat." Mark was not his cheerful self.

"Is your plan to starve to death or die of hypothermia?"

"You are not helping."

"You work hard. If you had a job you could have a life."

"I don't want just any life with just any job, any wife and car. I want life on my terms."

There was a long pause while Victoria calculated what she would say next. "You realize it's not working don't you? You're a half step away from being a street person."

Mark knew it, but he didn't want to admit it. He tried to look her in the eye, but couldn't hold her gaze. "I'm just not ready to give up."

"You don't have to give up, but you need to change something. Don't they have a dryer where you live? Maybe you should find a different apartment."

Mark's shoulders deflated, "I'm sleeping on a friend's couch."

"How's that working out?"

"His girlfriend hates me, so I spend as little time there as possible."

"And this is living on your own terms?"

Mark just shook his head.

Victoria said, "Okay, now I understand. I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day Victoria met him at the library before it opened. "I've got a couch, why don't you sleep on it?"

"No, I couldn't do that. I don't even know you."

"You are being foolish and proud. This is a good offer. Take it."

The leather ran smooth on the passenger seat of Victoria's car. They picked up a couple of shopping bags that contained all of Mark's possessions and drove to her house, which was on the hill with a commanding view of the town, the shore and the ocean.

The house was built as one continuous arc with a floor-to-ceiling glass on the ocean side. The rooms were spacious and sparsely furnished with oversized sofas and chairs. The two paintings hung on opposite walls of the living room with an ocean view between them.

"Wow, they look great in here. You have a forest, the ocean and a desert." Mark gestured to each as he spoke.

"I agree. I'm very happy with how it all came together."

She led him to a small room just off the entryway and next to the kitchen. It must have been intended for storage, but it was now set up as a bedroom. There was a single bed and a chest of drawers. There was no closet and no window. There was a doorjamb but no door.

She said, "This is where you will sleep."

"What happened to the door?"

"Did you have a door at your friend's couch?"

"Ah... no."

"You see, there's no problem."

Victoria led him out onto a deck that flowed around the outer curve of the building. Every inch of the deck had a million dollar view. She stopped in front of a teak table and chair. On the table were a laptop and a cell phone. "These are for you to use while you live here." She slipped the phone into the front pocket of his blue jeans. "I'll use this to get hold of you, and you can do your writing right here."

Mark sat in the chair and surveyed his new domain. He could see the ocean, the town, and the road leading inland. Behind him was an unobstructed view of what could only be Victoria's bedroom.

"The view is extraordinary," he said while looking into her bedroom. "But there's not much privacy."

She smirked. "I think you will find it inspiring."

She took him through the kitchen and said he was welcome to anything.

"You've got everything I need here. I have no need to step off your property."

"That's the idea," she said in a way that was sophisticated and creepy at the same time. "I would appreciate it if you would work here rather than at the library."

"You know I can't afford this right?"

"I understand. I'm going to ask you to do things for me. I will expect you to be responsive."

"What kind of things?"

"We'll ease into it and see what you have an appetite for. You can refuse at any time and return to your friend's sofa. However, let's be clear, this isn't charity. I'm helping you, and you are going to help me."

In honor of his new digs, Mark started a new blog titled 'Life with V'. His first post was on the house. He described the oversized rooms, the extended glass wall, and the ocean views. The most interesting room was at the end of the hallway, adjacent to Victoria's bedroom. It was a large room with mirrors on the three walls that weren't facing the ocean. In the room was a large wooden cross positioned like the letter X with eye-bolts on along the sides. There was a bed with a vinyl mattress that was ringed in eye-bolts. The was a small pommel horse and a cage that would have been just big enough for Mark. Hanging from wooden racks were leather whips and belts, wooden paddles, large chrome-plated hooks and a large assortment of hemp ropes. Ropes also hung from pulleys attached to the ceiling. If it wasn't for the spectacular ocean view, Mark would have sworn that it was a dungeon.

His second post was on V's occupation. He suspected Victoria was more than a simple real estate agent. The first clue was the dungeon. Another clue was the way Victoria dressed when she went to work. It wasn't that she looked like a whore, but her skirt was too tight, her neckline was too low and her heels were too high for a real estate agent. The final clue was the hours she worked. If she was a real estate agent she sold a lot of houses in the dark.

Mark thought the blog had some commercial potential. The life of a premiere escort with a dungeon living in a tony beach community would attract views and generate revenue. He guessed that this is what Victoria had in mind, but they had yet to discussed it.

In the days that followed Victoria came to enjoy waking to find Mark hard at work at the keyboard just outside her bedroom window. She liked to linger in bed and watch him struggle. She couldn't help but admire his perseverance against long odds, and she liked the idea of supporting the arts by supporting him. She also enjoyed teasing him.

She had long ago accepted her passion for dominating men as a part of her being. Like her tall stature it was simply part of who she was. Her dominant character formed the basis of her career and most other life choices. Usually she got paid to do it. Sometimes she did it for fun. Mark was so earnest that she could tease and torture him without thinking about it. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and joined him on the deck.

After the usual morning pleasantries Mark asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about what you do for a living?"

"That would probably be a good idea. I take it that you've figured out that I sell more than real estate."

"Yea, should I be aware of anything?"

"I assume I can rely on your discretion. You can write about what happens, but you can't write about who it happens to. Be warned, this will be much harder than you think it's going to be. It will suck you in if you let it. That's why I took the door off your room. I don't want you to get too comfortable."

On a Saturday night Victoria burst into the house and shouted, "Mark, come help me get ready!"

Mark entered her bedroom to find her removing her bra. He turned to leave, but she said, "Don't be modest, I need your help."

She held a corset up and asked him to help put it on. The corset constricted her body into a tight hourglass at her waist, and it pushed her breasts up and in, creating a chasm from what was already deep cleavage. He then helped put on her garter and stockings. The lace stockings accented her long muscular legs and left an expanse of uncovered skin to the bottom of the corset.

As Mark secured the last clasp, his nose was level with Victoria's shaved pussy, the pedals of which were in bloom. He imagined what it would be like to touch her. To caress her folds with his tongue. To taste the acidity of her flower's nectar.

She looked down at him, "Do you want to fuck me or be a writer?"

"That is a great question."

"Why don't you focus on writing for now. Make sure you spend the evening on the deck sitting in the teak chair. We may inspire you."

Victoria put on a black thigh-length trench coat. The garters were visible below the hem of the coat. The doorbell rang and she told Mark to make himself scarce.

Mark sat in the teak chair. He booted his computer and recorded the events as they developed.

Victoria sat in a leather wingback chair with her legs crossed above the knees. Her visitor was kneeling at her feet. She looked down upon him as she spoke. When he spoke, he looked to the floor. After a short conversation he stood and removed his clothes, then he kneeled back down in front of her and presented her with a leather collar. Victoria took the collar, placed it around his neck, then locked it in place with a small keyed lock.

Mark assumed that this was an important ceremony that formalized the transfer of power. Based on the state of his cock the visitor obviously got off on it. Victoria seemed to be enjoying herself, and Mark found himself aroused as well.

Her visitor massaged one of her stocking feet while she toyed with a leather cuff. He diligently kneaded her foot with his hands, then sucked on each toe through the stockings with his mouth. After the foot had been thoroughly pampered, she dangled the cuff over his head while she teased his balls with her toes. He stretched to take the cuff with his teeth as she pushed him away with her foot. It took him several tries to take the cuff from her. Once he fastened the cuff on his wrist they repeated the process on the other foot.

Mark envied the visitor. He wanted to massage Victoria's feet, to feel the web of the stockings in his hands and to view up her legs into her dark depths. He wanted to suck the toes the visitor sucked and to stretch for anything that Victoria might dangle. Instead, he focused on the laptop and keyed in the visitor's point of view.

To earn the ankle cuffs her visitor had to unbuckle them with his tongue and teeth. He was on his hands and knees with his face at the cuff which was fastened to a fixture on the floor. Victoria's foot tangled with his testacals, sometimes pushing in and other times pushing up, but invariably working against him. Victoria appeared to enjoy her work. She smiled warmly as she encouraged her visitor, but her feet worked ceaselessly at thwarting his efforts.

Mark's groin ached for the touch and pressure of Victoria's foot. His cock was hard and as he typed. She was right, this was much harder than he expected.

With the ankle cuffs in place, Victoria led her visitor across the room by a leather lead attached to the collar. She had him drape his body over the small pommel horse. She secured the ankle and wrist cuffs to the horse and then stood behind him with her legs spread wide. He gazed up between his own legs at her open twat.