Art: Salvador Dalí's The Great Masturbator
She wasn’t afraid with me. That night I knelt at her feet like a devoted fool, kissing every inch while she dissolved into nervous laughter, first upset, then fascinated, then deliciously ashamed that a fine gentleman could worship such a little slut. Kot warned me that Amadis carried danger; the horror still haunted his eyes from that tragic night at the coast. Yet when I slid the dungeon portfolio across the table, his face darkened like storm clouds. “A torture house?” he spat. I told him it wasn’t for him, it was for Darce. Blank cheque in hand, my insatiable lust had already overruled every reservation. After all, a little guilt is all that’s needed… and heaven was waiting underground.)
It has been a while, just enough time to simmer down. I know, I know, we need something to stage for the next episode.
But if you’ve been walking with me, you know it’s cigarettes and coffee, with strings in the background whenever the blues have got me. I’m in a muddle, and it's horrible.
And I also know that we’re closer to breaking the laws of decency with every prose, but that’s when I get down to the conversation.
It always got me flustered and nervous. Thoughts of tangled legs, cuddles, and bubble baths. But it’s forbidden, one might say. Yet what am I to do when a little guilt is all that’s needed?
Well, well, well, I have to confess that my dear Kot was right. There was danger on the horizon, I felt it too, in my bones, but my insatiable lust couldn’t make me see above my shoes.
I made the designs despite Kot’s reservations and not knowing whether Darce would honor my condition to leash Amadi.
So headlong, I put my wildest imaginations and machinations into play. We would build across the big five locations, one in each. And with a blank cheque book, the possibilities were endless.
My favorite was the ‘Elevator to Heaven!’
Its entrance was built into a wall, with specific taps to open. Then you’d walk along a narrow corridor, with tall, slender crimson pillars and a thick Persian rug to muffle the steps.
And like sentinels between the pillars, were erotic sculptures in old Roman style, too bold a nun would hide her face in shame. I know Michael Angelo would have been proud of our 3D printed work.
Each elaborately done, with an arm pointing you on to the end of the narrow hall, to a black wooden door, polished to a high sheen, and opening to a staircase, winding down a few meters into the cavernous dungeon.
Designed like an underwater cavern with model icicles overhead from which hung chains with thick leather straps at the end. On the walls were replicas of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s In bed, the Kiss, Rembrandt’s the French bed, Salvador Dalí’s the Great Masturbator, among other great erotic artworks.
The pillars were strategically erected on the floor to divide the cavern into sections; each was designed for a specific purpose. From negotiations at the bar, giant pools of hot water, each accommodating six occupants, to the aftercare room with masseuses and clinical hypnotherapists.
On the faces of these stalagmites were hooks from which hung various tools for the main act. The fairy lights along the wall and the little lamps on the floor, reflecting off the limestone, gave the cavern a heavenly feeling.
Well, I don't know if I’ve painted the picture strongly enough; if not, you’ll have to forgive me, for I’m a little nervous and flustered reaching into the memories.
Now, if you like side paths, as I said before, little dark back-alleys behind the main road, if you like to chase adventures and surprises, and seek precious little metals in the dirt, then you know what I’m talking about.
“This is heaven!” Darce had gasped the moment she stepped into the cavern.
“You like it?” I’d asked, walking behind her as she admired the pillars and felt the leather straps, picked a whip here and a collar there.
“It’s way better than I imagined,” she purred softly, her voice in awe.
“You did give me a blank cheque,” I said slyly.
“Yes, that we did,” she said, turning back to face me.
Her dark lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were moist. Her hair was disheveled, and her jade silk blouse was missing a few buttons.
“I’m glad you like it,” I said softly. “Now, have you leashed your dog?"
She tried advancing to me, but I stepped back, holding my hand up. “Put those back,” I said, pointing to the toys in her hand.
