There’s a man who visits the dungeon regularly. He’s a submissive of Eve, the Dominant who runs the dungeon, and he checks in with her once a month.
Eve is his BDSM lifestyle coach of sorts, and at the end of every month, he either gets a reward session for meeting his goals, or a punishment. Personally I prefer the reward sessions, because we get to use him in all the ways he prefers. It’s a heady rush of power to know that he’s getting off serving us in ways that get us off.
Yeah, I love my job.
Carl is ten years my senior and towers over me at six foot seven. He confessed recently to Eve that he fantasizes about me sexually, but when we’re standing in the foyer to the play space saying hello and giving hugs, he is every inch a gentleman. If it weren’t for the sordid emails that Eve shares with me, I would have no idea about the deviant thoughts that occupy that man’s mind.
On this particular visit, Carl was going to receive a reward session. I was expecting something painful, since Carl was a masochist and adored nipple torture, but Eve surprised us both. She brought out the bright pink bondage tape and one of my favorite dildos, Mr. Vanilla. Eve and I have named all the dildos in her collection, which is pretty extensive as you may imagine. Mr. Vanilla was around eight inches long, two inches wide, and smelled like vanilla. Even after multiple trips through the dishwasher.
Carl was ordered to strip and kneel. Eve gave him permission to bury his head between her ample breasts as she fastened a leather collar around his neck. Eve always remains clothed in her corset and black jeans when we play, but my clothes are optional.
I stood behind the kneeling man, my naked body pressed against his back as my hands gently kneaded his shoulders and arms. Once the collar was fastened and Carl had worshiped Eve’s breasts to her satisfaction, she offered me the dildo.
“Hold it on his forehead please,” she said. “Carl is going to be our faceless, silent sex slave for the next three hours.”
Eve began winding the pink bondage tape around Carl’s head.
“You may make sounds of enjoyment,” she warned him, “but you may not speak unless it’s to say ‘red’ to halt play.”
“Yes, Goddess,” Carl replied.
By the time she was finished, Carl’s entire head was hidden beneath pink bondage tape. Only his eyes, nose, and a slit for his mouth showed as Mr. Vanilla jutted out proudly from his forehead.
The first stage of Eve’s plan was for Carl, our sex unicorn, to massage our feet while we watched porn. It was nice to be pampered with a massage, but the gangbang porn made Eve horny, and soon she had pushed aside the laptop to concentrate on me.
“Spread your legs and lie back on the table,” she ordered.
I complied, and then she was directing Carl where to kneel on the floor in front of me. I couldn’t see much from my position, but I felt the cold liquid sensation of lube being smoothed between my legs, and then the rounded head of Mr. Vanilla being positioned at my entrance.
For the next hour the sex unicorn serviced me with his horn, causing orgasm after orgasm to crash over me. The room smelled of clean sweat and orgasms, and all I could do was hold on to my shaking legs and come again.
Sex unicorns are the best unicorns.
