textfiles/sex/EROTICA/D/d_palace.txt

                      THE DARK PALACE
            (a slice of the author's life story)
                        by Ron Dalanor 

     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 nonreactive 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 you," 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 will 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 visegrip 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 asspussy 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, cumsucker."
     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!"
     Precum 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, buttwipe." 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 asspussy 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 cockwhore.  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.

                          COPYRIGHT 1991