SOAP-BOCKS : Strategic Office Against Perversion - Branch Of Contra-Kink Squad
Wednesday Aug 6, 2014
The dungeon was really dark tonight. Not just a lack of light, but something more. It was the entire ambiance. Trance music was pumping that sensual throb, perfect for a wild scene. I was standing by the crimson curtained wall, watching the players groove. This DJ was on it, he was completely connected to the vibe of the crowd. The many kinksters were playing ... hard and soft, scattered about the space on the oak hardwood furniture, all of them interconnected through the hypnotic beat.
Having played hours before, I had slowly escalated into a voyeur state. I surveyed the entirety of the space. I was drawn fully to this intense couple, engaged in a needle scene. Each time they connected, then drew in a breath and let it out as the next needle slid home. I was so engrossed, I found myself actually breathing with them. From where I stood I could feel their splash of hot, excited energy. Across the room, but in unison, the three of us had begun simultaneous breathing cycles. As if we were alone in a theater - they were the starring role, and I was their only audience.
I was just holding my breath, waiting for the next energy surge when abruptly the dungeon door flew inward in a brilliant flash of light and a huge roar. For several brief moments all I could see were the bouncing white balls of light baked into my retina. I did my best to lean back and stand still but in the seconds it took to reorient myself, the heavily armed, white and red vested stormtroopers streamed into the room. Automatic gauss rifles swept the room as they entered. We had no chance at all as they fired at anything moving. I watched in horror as several of the tranq darts hit the couple. They went down quickly and without much struggle.
Easing myself back, I blended my dark Dom gear into the crimson velvet of the wall. From where I was concealed I could see the bright white capital letters emblazoned on the backs of their jackets. "SOAP-BOCKS" I knew it! The radical right wing government had sent in the crack team - the Special Operations Anti-Perversion - Branch of Contra-Kink Squad. I had heard rumors they were looking for the pockets of kink, but I ignored them. I believed now, Oh, did I believe them now. Unfortunately, all too late - as they had finally found our playspace.
As I stood, not moving a single muscle, observing the grotesque throbs of green flashing of their squad cars, lighting the dungeon from outside the door. I was horrified when I saw the metal hard case. Black capital letters were clear on the side, WHIPs. As they brought it out, I was certain; they had brought the Wholesome Heat/Infrared Pervert sensor light. This infernal light detected erotic heat and energy. Damn, now I didn't stand a chance. The head SOAPer directed the light around the room. I knew it was only a matter of time. Deciding there was nothing left to do, I stepped into the open.
With their rifles trained on me, a stormtrooper cautiously walked toward me. Careful not to touch my skin, (there is no way he wanted to be infected with perversion) he placed me in Hard Cover KATE (Kuffs Attaching Thumbs to Elbows). Now that my flesh was covered, I was hauled up by two large troops, walked to the SOAP-BOCKs van. They picked me up by my leather Dom Harness and boots and with a “one two, heave” was unceremoniously thrown headfirst into the back of the van onto the pile of slumbering bodies. I think I must have been the last of us, as the doors slammed shut, covering us in darkness.
Once we were all alone, I called out to my friends. “Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in here? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?? I hear responding moans, cacophony of snoring, then a faint Domly voice, “hello?” Is that you? I was overjoyed. I almost blew it, but then I realized there would be INSECTs (Insanely Neurotic Sensing Equipment for Catching Talk) planted throughout the van. I warned the fellow Dom, “yes, Master R, it’s me, Master Chuck U Farley.” He got the hint immediately, and said, “there are no awake subs, you can just call me Ringo.”
“Ringo, do you know where we are going?” the terse reply filled me with dread, “Chuck U., I imagine we are headed to see the Big Inquisitor of Things Clearly Hedonistic.” I thought to myself, please – anything but that. I have heard of people never returning from that meeting. I spoke aloud, “are you sure we are in for a B.I.T.C.H. session? Suddenly, from everywhere and nowhere came a booming voice, “Be quiet perverts! We know all about you, your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries. You are forbidden from speaking your double talking and meaningless drivel!! Once the B.I.T.C.H. has his way with you, you won't be so cheery!” The intercom then shut off, leaving us to our thoughts.
It seemed like we had been driving for hours, when finally the van came to a stop and the doors opened. Brilliant white light spilled into the van, blinding those of us who were awake. Rough gloved hands yanked me out of the van and to my feet. I was still adjusting to the bright light, as I was walked into a large chamber with a high, ornately painted ceiling. I looked around. There was a large grey metal desk with a folding chair directly in front of it at the far end of the room, and bleacher seats on either side. The guards on either side of me walked me forward across the room, and dumped me into the folding chair.
Sitting on the cold metal chair, I continued my survey of the room. My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I figured out why the ceiling had attracted my attention. It was an oddly modified copy of the Sistine Chapel, but the face of Adam wasn't the same. Suddenly my reverie was cut short as I was pushed onto my knees. The guard demanded, “pay your respects to the Big Inquisitor!!” A short man with a close cropped beard walked to the desk and sat at the high backed wood chair. As he sat, I began laughing; the face in the picture, was his! A short butt stroke with a gauss rifle brought my laughter to a halt.
Picking myself back off the floor, I sat back in the folding chair. He turned to me, and looking into my eyes, said, “Chuck U. Farley, you are charged with Perversion of the 1st degree, complicity to pervert, possessing instruments of excessive perversion, and finally, Domly behavior. How do you plead?” I smiled considering my options, right now they didn't even know my real name. I could hold my cards close to my chest and wait for an opportunity to escape, I could throw myself on the mercy of this B.I.T.C.H., or I could demand a lawyer, and fight. I threw caution to the wind, and squarely demanded a lawyer. I knew either way, they would find out who I was, and then railroad me into the re-education farms, so why not fight?
Just then, in the far off distance, I heard a re-occurring sound. It was a familiar sound, one that I had heard many, many times before. In the past, I had cursed that sound, but now it was my salvation. Opening my sleep filled eyes, I praised Eros at the glowing red 7:00 that sat before me. Only a dream, I thought – oh so real. I'm so thankful that I don't live in a society that condemns and criminalizes open, honest and creative sexual expression. I can be me - kinky as I wanna be!
The far off sounds again, wait.. I had already woken up, right? Could it be..??
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