Come inside my inner space. Welcome to the castle! Join me in the lighted upper floors, the patio with it's nice view of the forest and lake beyond. The kitchen, living room with it's huge TV and awesome sound system, where guests dine and frolic. Want a beer? Or would you prefer a glass of wine? Or whiskey and coke on ice? Hang out, watch some football, or your favorite action film. Or, if you prefer, get cozy, sit by the fire, put on a romantic film, just us two. And if you prefer, when you are in the mood, we can retire to the upstairs.
But if you are up for it, and I feel like we click in a certain way, then walk down the hall to the restroom, towards the back. There are a series of hallways, corridors tunnelling into the mountain side at the back of the keep. Nothing special, just a couple small art galleries, pantries, a spare bedroom, and the laundry room next to the restroom. To the left of the restroom door is a flight of stairs. Then, through the hall past the billiard room, lower level bar, and gothic dance hall, is another flight of stairs. The vibe down here is edgier, more gothic, with that edgy underground nightclub feel. Walk down the tiled hall at the back by another set of restrooms. At the end of the hall is another stairwell. Climb down this with me if you dare.
At the bottom, are more hallways and corridors. All cleanly swept, well lit, with marble walls and tiled floors. It is not like your stereotypical medieval dungeon at all; it is immaculate and spotless. But a feeling of danger mixed with delicious erotic delight seems to fill your mind, as you explore these halls. Your feet echo along the black and white tiles as you wander the corridors. I never bring people here. It's the part of the castle I keep private and guarded. I don't even come down here much myself, though it is not haunted or anything like that. At least, not in the paranormal sense. Rather, it is haunted by my own darker buried feelings.
We pass several closed doors. Closets and store-rooms perhaps? Maybe there are skeletons in the closets, but mostly it's just anxiety, old memories and regrets. Turn left, then another short hallway leads to a sign marked "Restroom." You turn to say something to me, but suddenly you don't see me walking beside you anymore. But you realize, you actually do have to use the restroom. "He probably had to take a phone call upstairs or something. Maybe I'll just stop here for a sec, then head back upstairs and join him for another drink," you say to yourself.
You open the door to the bathroom, and there I am...lying chained to the floor, naked. Legs and arms splayed, wrists and feet shackled to rings in the floor. You can't see my face, because my head is sealed inside a box. Atop the box is a toilet seat. Someone has written the words "Bathroom Bitch" on my chest in red lipstick. Paddles, riding crops, floggers, and other instruments of erotic torture line the walls. As I hear the door open and the click of your leather boots on the tile floor, I am unable to hide my arousal.
But you close the door and flee in disgust, back down the hall, back up the stairs, through the dance hall and bar, and back up to the ground floor, where there is light and sanity.
And I think to myself, why oh why do I ever bring people down here?
Thanks for reading.