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Dark Palace
by Ron Dalanor 1991

***

I knew that look, and a part of me feared it while the 
other part rejoiced. He was mine physically, mentally, 
and emotionally. The look on his face was love. He 
loved me because he had to, and he loved me because he 
wanted to. It was clear that he would remain mine 
forever. (MM, d/s, bd, s/m)

***

I was sitting in one of the local bars, it was Saturday 
night, and I was surrounded by horny men. Despite all 
of this and because of all of this, I was in one of my 
moods; the mood was frustrated horniness. I scared the 
hell out of most of the local bedroom talent. Even in a 
town the size of Peoria I had developed a reputation.

Being new to the area (a southerner in Yankee 
territory), I had gone out for the first time a couple 
of weeks ago, fully displaying my colors. I had worn a 
black leather outfit with a few accessories - chains 
that surrounded my waist, made an X across my 47" 
chest, and circled my muscular thighs running between 
my legs. A pair of handcuffs hung from the chains, and 
I carried a bullwhip with which I had become rather 
proficient. Once dressed, I felt, as I looked in the 
mirror, that the exterior matched the interior. From 
that weekend on, I was a marked man.

I had interesting chance encounters with guys who 
wanted to physically bend to my will, but, when I 
required mental and emotional yielding as well, most 
would panic and flee. But, after that one public 
appearance, the nature of my encounters changed 
drastically. No longer did a chance encounter result in 
rough play; rough play became the purpose of the 
encounter. However, most guys were afraid to ever 
approach me in public. 

For reasons unknown to me, they wanted to keep their 
dalliances with me a total secret. Still, just physical 
satisfaction was not enough; I needed more than mere 
physical control. I longed to become a total master 
which could only be accomplished, wrote the Marquis 
deSade, "when one had taken his servant to the Dark 
Palace where all pain becomes pleasure." A successful 
journey would certify my expertise as a master and, 
according to the legend, would "solidify a perfect 
union between a master and his slave."

As I sat in the bar, I was lost in my own world, 
listening to the music and the mild roar of 
conversations all around me as well as contemplating 
the unlikelihood of a quest to the Dark Palace. 

"Hello," rang a nice bass voice, and I heard it through 
the clouds of my own thoughts. When I looked, the stool 
next to mine was occupied by a man. He was a rather 
large man-boy. I guessed his height to be about a half 
foot taller than my 5'10", and he was filled out like a 
sturdy farm boy. I nodded a greeting and went back to 
sipping my drink.

"I asked a few people who you were," he said 
tentatively. "but the only answer I got was that I 
didn't want to know."

"Oh?" I said flatly.

"Why do you suppose that was?" he continued.

I studied him for a bit. He had one of those short 
military style haircuts. He had those big puppy eyes in 
my favorite shade of brown. His complexion was swarthy 
and dark like his hair; he was close in tone to my own 
honey colored complexion. In short, he was handsome in 
a very subtle, very masculine sort of way. Yet my 
instincts kept urging me to get past only what I was 
seeing.

"I guess someone, like you, who knows what he wants 
scares guys who just aren't as sure of themselves," he 
uttered.

As per usual, I remained stoic with a guarded facial 
expression. Most found my lack of expression cold or 
frightening. This guy who certainly should not be 
intimidated by me physically began to react as those 
who were much smaller would. It was evident that my 
silence and non-reactive state was making him most 
nervous. He chattered on in a futile attempt to cover 
this.

"I bet you workout a lot. How much can you bench press? 
I bet you could easily lift more than I weigh," he 
rattled on.

His face told me of his internal panic... He was afraid 
of my rejection! Why? There were so many other guys who 
would jump at this piece that it wasn't funny. With all 
the boys who would gladly point their legs heavenward 
for him, why had he been drawn to someone who so 
obviously would not. He didn't have a challenge 
mentality. In fact, his approach was more like a dog's 
sign of submission, tail tucked and nonverbally 
groveling.

"Tell me about yourself," I said, absent of inflection.

This change in the conversation stunned him as I saw by 
his reaction, but he gleefully complied with my 
request. He had finished a hitch in the marines and had 
drifted around a bit. He had little experience with 
men, but he felt that he preferred them as long as they 
were real men.

As I really looked into his eyes, I saw something 
there. It was like a fleeting phantom. I shuddered as I 
perceived it. I felt an almost overwhelming desire to 
hold him, to possess him. This desire, however, was 
immediately squelched by my naturally suspicious nature 
in regard to people. Nothing could happen except sex 
unless he was willing to prove himself.

"Real men take what they want," I deftly posed. 

His eye contact, which had been sporadic at best, left 
completely. With his head fully lowered, he managed 
only to say, "I know."

"Let's go!" I said with full authority.

A force from deep within me took over; I did not wait. 
I began walking out the door, and he obediently 
followed me to my car and got in. The trip to my home 
was silent till we pulled into the garage.

"Sir," he said tentatively. "I have little experience, 
but I'll try to please you. Please, Sir, make me do the 
right things."

Once inside the house, the game fully began. Unlike the 
foolish pseudo-masters, I do not attempt to live a life 
of total dominance apart from the real world. I adapt 
my natural dominance to the real world, and it, 
likewise, must adapt to me. But, when the opportunity 
to arises, I fully enjoy the sexual fantasy game. Don't 
misunderstand, the game is always with me and a part of 
me. However, I control the game; it does not control 
me.

This ex-marine named Steve had entered my fantasy game 
in the bar, and he would not be allowed to exit until 
my fantasies had been fully satisfied. 

He stood in the center of my living room as I sat on 
the sofa and lit a cigarette. He was lost in the realm 
of reality that I controlled, and I would capitalize on 
every advantage that I had.

"Strip for me, maggot. I want a good show." I indicated 
in emotionless tones.

"Sir?" he sputtered.

At light speed, I moved to him and grabbed his collar.

"You will do as I say, cocksucker... just as I say... 
everything I say until I say the game is over... 
understand?" 

To emphasize what I was saying I placed a vise-grip 
hand on his crotch and squeezed.

"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir..." responded a contorted face.

I resumed my place on the sofa, and he complied with my 
orders. The removal of his clothes showed a good solid 
body which was moderately hairy like my own. I stopped 
him when he was down only to his underwear and made him 
move within arms reach. Again, I applied pressure to 
his crotch and asked him what use his cock served.

"None, Sir," he wisely responded.

"Unless I want," I added.

"Yes Sir," he replied.

He was too scared to have an erection which is often 
the case when fantasy meets reality in such a stark 
sense. I, on the other hand, was as hard as steel. 
Eight, thick inches were pushing hard against my jeans 
for release. I made him remove the shorts and face away 
from me.

"Bend over, cunt, and spread those cheeks. I want a 
good view of that ass-pussy of yours."

I made him stand that way until I knew that the 
humiliation of the act had left him with little 
resistance. I walked over to him and ordered him to his 
knees. With head fully lowered, he sat there. I grabbed 
his head and shoved it hard to my crotch, grinding into 
his face.

"You want that, don't you, bitch."

I left him little time to answer. I unzipped my jeans 
pulled my dick from its leather nest and started 
slapping his face as hard as I could stand. Now his own 
cock began to respond, and he started to become erect.

"Lick my fucking balls!"

Again I shoved his face where I wanted it. And I felt 
his hot tongue do my bidding. His arousal level had 
lead him to begin to play with himself. I backhanded 
him at half force, just enough to leave a brief sting.

"Did I fucking tell you that you could play with 
yourself, cunt?"

The look of surprise and chagrin that crossed his face 
was delicious, and I savored that moment.

"No Sir. I'm sorry Sir."

"Indiscretions will not be tolerated! You belong to me, 
you worthless piece of shit. You think, feel, and do 
only as I say."

I stepped to the closet and removed my riding crop. I 
shoved his head to the floor.

"Indiscretions must be punished."

With quarter force, I made the leather sting across his 
ass as he begged and pleaded telling me that he would 
be good and do much better. I became more turned on at 
the sincerity of his pleas; he had slipped into the 
right level of the game. But, I planned to take him 
over the edge to the abyss where I would be his only 
salvation.

As I watched the red whelps appear on his butt, my 
desire for him grew. His ass was well muscled, and I 
knew that it would endure all that I was 
planning...each step of the way. I left him head bowed 
to the floor and stood directly in front of him.

"Lick my boots, cum-sucker."

His compliance now had zeal; he was almost ready. As he 
groveled at my feet, I removed my shirt allowing my 
erect nipples to enjoy the power charge that filled the 
air. I took my boot and shoved his head to the floor 
again, and he moved not a bit while I stripped down to 
only a studded leather jock and the boots. I raised his 
head and made him lick the jock and beg for my cock. 
His training was proceeding admirably. I removed the 
jock allowing my thick cock to bounced free and drink 
in the atmosphere.

"Lick it, whore... lick that dick you want so much."

He licked it and then tried to suck it. This time I 
backhanded him harder than before, enough to stun him.

"I said, fucking lick it. You don't deserve to suck it 
yet!"

Pre-cum was dripping from his partly hard dick, and I 
knew he was more ready for our little journey. I looked 
into his face as he stared up at me. The look of fear 
had grown to include subservient passion; that ever 
elusive bond that links a true master and slave was 
growing between us. I made him stand, and I grabbed my 
pleasure bag, in which I keep my toys, from the closet. 
I took a rough finished leather strap in one hand, and 
I grabbed his balls and squeezed with the other.

"Like that don't you, cunt. Feels good doesn't it?"

Sweat was beading on his forehead from the pain. I 
began to tie his balls up while watching his face 
intently to see just how much he could take and how 
tightly the strap should be. After all, a good master 
never damages his property; his motivation is to 
provide the ultimate experience to his boys. 

When the strap was tied just right, I stood back to 
admire my handiwork. He was fully erect now from my 
rough touch. I pushed him against a wall and ground my 
body into his while forcing him to meet my unyielding 
gaze. I pulled my tit clamps from the pleasure bag. 
They are the type that have the screw control allowing 
me to increase the pressure at will. I applied them 
turning the screws and listening to his breathing which 
had become quite heavy. He grimaced and moaned with 
each turn. I stopped when it was just enough and tugged 
at the chain that linked the clamps. His moans and 
pleas were sweet music.

"I want to see you play with that dick of yours."

His face showed total confusion now. It was just what I 
wanted to see; he was lost between pain and pleasure. 
And, pain and pleasure were on a collision course to 
become one.

"Stroke it for daddy. Your master wants to see you 
cum," I said switching my voice from cold and empty to 
seductive.

"Think of daddy's dick all the way down your throat. 
Think of how good it would feel to have your master's 
hard cock slamming into that tight ass of yours."

He responded to the power of my words and began to 
masturbate. It was, however, evident that he feared I 
would stop him because he flinched every time I moved. 
Standing next to him, I wet my middle finger and began 
to probe his ass which was very reluctant to submit. A 
bit of special lube from the pleasure bag helped to 
relax his reluctance, and I explored searching for that 
vulnerable place. His breathing became more and more 
labored, and I knew he was getting close to cumming. I 
stood in front of him.

"I want you to cum on my fucking dick, maggot. Put 
every bit of that cum on it, butt-wipe." I barked with 
the voice now back to its emotionless power mode. 

He moaned, screamed, and contorted, but he did just as 
I asked. As he was in the state of post orgasm 
recovery, I pulled a favorite toy from my bag, I 
grabbed his arms, and I handcuffed them. Before he was 
fully cognizant of what happened, I forced him to his 
knees.

"Now your going to clean up the mess you made, whore. 
You're going to eat every bit of that fucking jism off 
your master's dick."

"No!" he yelled.

This time the blow from the back of my hand was full 
force leaving behind it a full red imprint and a guy 
who was falling fully under my control. His mouth 
opened to scream, and I shoved my cock deep into his 
throat gagging him. I held his head in an unbreakable 
grip till his resistance ended.

"Suck it!"

He began slowly but did as I ordered. I watched tears 
fall down his cheeks, and with each one his will 
diminished. I made him lick every drop of his own cum 
from my balls and from my pubic hair. He would start to 
gag, and I would remind him that he was mine. I was now 
in full control of him, and I grabbed his head and 
started face fucking him hard. His cuffed hands 
futilely reach toward me.

"Cocksucker, did I say you could touch me?"

With that, they dropped, and he took whatever I dished 
out in that position. I knew that I would soon need 
release. I grabbed his cuffed hands and pulled him up 
to his feet. I yanked on the tit chain and grabbed his 
balls to watch is face contort not with panic but with 
pleasure. He had crossed the line. His cock would jump 
with each tug, and it was clear that he was getting 
more aroused each time.

"It's time that ass-pussy of yours got a workout, 
whore. You're going to get your master's dick shoved in 
you."

"Please, Sir. I want it, Sir. I need it, Sir," he 
begged. 

His words were sincere. He wasn't "playing" the game; 
the game had become his new reality. 

I bent him over the edge of the sofa so that I had easy 
access to his hole which I saw twitch repeatedly in 
anticipation. I shoved my condom-covered dick in as 
hard as I could. He screamed but did not squirm. I 
pulled it fully out and slammed it in again. His 
begging and pleading got louder with each exit and 
reentry. Only that slight amount of lube I applied 
earlier came between his ass and the force of my dick.

I continued the process until I could feel the 
resistance and tension slide from his body. I knew that 
he was falling over the edge into the abyss....into 
another stream of consciousness...into another reality. 
Now, I was fully aroused. I had taken him where he 
needed to go, and now it was my turn. I began to pound 
unmercifully into his ass knowing that I was still 
quite a distance from orgasm. I kept fucking him till I 
began to feel myself easing onto another plane of 
existence.

"Take that dick, you fucking cock-whore. That snatch of 
yours loves that dick pain, doesn't it. Take all of it, 
bitch."

My own words began to fade as I felt myself getting 
closer and closer. His body began to shake and writhe. 
He was having an orgasm from the sheer force of the 
fucking. I reached around to feel the cum spew from his 
dick, and, as I felt the jism land in hot droplets in 
my hand, I started to cum uncontrollably. I wanted in 
him deeper and deeper with each wave of orgasmic joy. 
Present time gave way to fluid jaunts around the 
universe.

Quite a bit of time passed before I regained control of 
myself. When I did, I realized I was still in him and 
still as hard as a rock. I withdrew, pulled him to his 
knees, and ordered him to clean my dick. Without any 
hesitation, he removed the condom and complied. His 
every lick and his every suck was done with such gentle 
reverence and worship. When I stepped back, he looked 
up at me from his kneeling position. 

I knew that look, and a part of me feared it while the 
other part rejoiced. He was mine physically, mentally, 
and emotionally. The look on his face was love. He 
loved me because he had to, and he loved me because he 
wanted to. It was clear that he would remain mine 
forever. 

I pulled him to his feet and removed the handcuffs. 

"The game is over." I announced as perfunctory as I 
could.

Silence engulfed us both. It was not the sort of 
silence that normally appeared. It was not a "what do I 
do now" silence on his part. It was a warm, pleading 
silence. His gaze this time did not waver in the face 
of my emotionless stare. He dropped to his knees.

"Sir, please. I want to belong to you. Please let me be 
yours."

This had gone far beyond a mere fantasy sex game. We 
had reached the ultimate union or, at least, opened the 
door. Symbolically, he had given himself over to me 
fully. Never had all of my defenses been rendered so 
totally useless, and never had I been filled with so 
much emotion. 

All that he had given me in trust and in total 
submission was the greatest gift I had ever received. 
It was as if he had known intuitively that I would 
respond with a totally myopic desire for him. He was 
mine to protect, to cherish, and to love with a degree 
of emotion rarely experienced outside of the world of 
fiction.

And for nearly two years he was mine - body, heart, and 
mind - whether we played the game or not. It was two 
years of polishing my craft as master, it was two years 
of bliss, it was two years filled with journeys to the 
Dark Palace where I made all his pain turn into 
pleasure, and it was two years love without any doubt.

In the greater scheme of things, however, permanence 
wasn't meant to be, and forever is just another word. 
Steve was killed in a helicopter accident while playing 
weekend warrior over five years ago.

Life goes on, but it is hard to settle for less than 
real fulfillment. And, it is impossible to settle for 
love for another than comes with doubt. Years later, it 
is easy to drift off into a daydream filled with 
thoughts of him and what once was. And, I know, without 
doubt, that I would have gladly given my life for his 
had that choice been mine. Yet, I know I cannot exist 
in past times, so I still look for another who will 
prove himself worthy of the journey to the Dark 
Palace... where all pain becomes pleasure and love is 
total and comes without doubt.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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