The Dungeon Mistress

The Dungeon Mistress

The heavy iron doors creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber lit only by flickering candles. Thick leather straps and chains hung from the stone walls, cast long shadows in the dancing candlelight. In the center of the room stood a single iron-framed bed, stripped bare of bedding save for a thin sheet of black silk.

Amelia stepped into the room, head held high, her footsteps ringing out sharply against the stone floor and echoing off the close walls. She wore an elaborate ensemble - jet black rubber stockings stretched taut over her long, toned legs, disappearing beneath a plump satin g-string that barely concealed her womanhood. Above, her ample bosom was bound tight by a latticed rubber top, nipples hard and plainly visible through the catsuit like black currants...

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