Fifty Shades of Gray: Zombie Sex Dungeon

Fifty Shades of Gray: Zombie Sex Dungeon

A lone figure sauntered under dying streetlights in the Meat packing District of New York City. From a distance, it would have been mistaken for an ordinary man going through bad times, dressed in tattered rotting clothes, and walking barefoot on the grime of the cold brick street. Looking perhaps for a garbage dumpster to pilfer for a late meal, or a dark alley with cardboard boxes to huddle under for the night.

The figure wore the outward appearance of a man. The body was now contorted by the sting of death. Its hands reached out to find food, withered fingers clutched into empty air. Its mouth was agape, yearning to tear into fresh, blood rich flesh, and feel the quench of the living flow into the hollow cavity of its stomach.

A rat the size of a small dog scurried about the curbside searching for morsels of discarded food. Its nose found a treasure of pizza crust, partially covered in sweet red sauce and cheese. Sitting upright and enjoying its meal, its sensitive nose picked up another scent, an unfamiliar scent that excited fear in its tiny brain. Self-preservation overruled hunger. The rat let the crust drop and it headed for the protective cover of a parked car down the street.

An unknown force animated the walking corpse. None in the world of reality would dare call it what it truly was. None would call it: zombie.

*

A two story red brick building on West 13th Street faced the world looking to be abandoned. Rusty security bars and thick curtains covered some of the windows. Bricks sealed the others, blocking light from entering or prying eyes from seeing in.

Double doors on the street level led to a narrow stairwell next to a wall. The stairs led straight into Madam Donna’s welcoming room.

Donna leaned back in a chair with her six-inch heel leather boots on her desk. The boots came up to her knees, with eight buckles on each aligned all the way down to her ankle. The crotch of her latex corset was unsnapped, allowing her Brazilian waxed private parts to breathe. She sipped slowly on a glass of iced vodka trying to cure a lingering morning hangover, and all but ensured another one for the next day.  

Her cell phone vibrated on the desk next to a nipple clamp. She picked it up and answered. "Madam Donna's Dungeon of Dominatrix Delights."

The voice started, "Yes…yes. I'm calling…I'm calling to…"

Donna interrupted, "On your feet or on your knees!"

The voice hesitated. "What?"

"Do you need your ears cleaned out? Get your mommy to do that. I said on your feet or on your knees."

"Okay. Okay. I'm on my feet. Now, I'm calling to…"

"I'll tell you what you called for. You don't tell me. I'll tell you what you can kiss, and I'll tell you what you can suck. You will squeal like the pig that you are. You will beg for my touch, beg for my taste. I will tease you with my smell. I will ride you like an animal and slap you cherry red with my whip. I will bind you. I will bite you. I will pull the hair off your balls with my teeth.

"So what are you waiting for?" Donna took a sip of her drink. "Give me a credit card number and we can set the appointment."

"Uh, Ma'am. I'm calling to see if you would like to make a one time donation to the Republican National Committee and become a member with benefits that include a quarterly magazine and a toll free hotline that…"

Donna sloshed her drink as she slammed it down on her desk. "Republican? What kind of sick degenerate do you think I am? I've got way too much integrity to give money to those reprobates. Fuck off." She slapped her phone shut, and tossed it onto her desk.

Plodding steps of the undead man slowly climbed the stairs to Madam Donna's Dungeon. The doors on ground level were partially open. The zombie sensed that inside contained the living meal that it so craved.

Madam Donna spat a mouth full of vodka and tiny bits of ice when the zombie took the final step off the stairs and into her office.

"What the fuck? Hey bud, Halloween's not for another month. We can play dress up if you want, but you gotta set up an appointment first," Donna said, as her surprise turned to anger. Walk-ins were not welcomed.

The dead walker made a ghastly smile, pulling back the thinning lips and revealing yellow sharp teeth. It lurched forward, one slow step at a time, moving closer to Donna's desk.

"I mean it dude. One more step and you'll regret coming up here. You'd better leave now. Go sleep it off somewhere else." Donna stood behind her desk. The unsnapped latex crotch pulled higher on her groin. Endorphins increased the flow of circulating blood, causing her labia to blush.

The walking cadaver bumped into the desk, reaching out with his arms for the prize.

"That's it!" Donna turned to the wall behind her. Black shelves aligned deep red painted walls, housing tools of a dominatrix's trade. She selected a leather strip flogger for one hand and a violent wand for the other. An electrical cracking noise sounded as she pushed a button on the wand. The batteries were fresh and ready to bring its pleasure or pain.

"You want to party, big boy? Then, let's." Donna lashed out with the flogger. The two-foot long strips of knotted leather slapped the zombie across its face.

It was undeterred, and gave no indication that it felt any pain at all.

Donna whipped it back and forth against its head, hoping to drive it backward. It was like hitting a piece of wood, striking with no effect. In her zeal, the strips of leather caught the head of the zombie in the tangled mass, and wrapped around tightly. She immediately pulled down on the flogger, bringing its head hard against the desk. She pressed the violent wand into its back, and sent a charge of high voltage flowing through it.

The creature swung its arm upward, hitting Donna on the wrist, and knocked the flogger from her grasp. Then she brought its claw like hand down. Its nails landed between her corset top and right breast. The nails dug into a layer of skin, leaving a trail of blood down to her nipple. The corset ripped away from her shoulder, and now hung below her exposed Double D tit.

"You bastard! That's it. I'm not playing nice anymore." Donna pulled an acrylic walking cane from the wall and swung it back and forth through the air like a baseball bat.

The zombie had righted itself, and managed to untangle the flogger from its head. It now approached Donna from around her desk. It felt no pain. It felt no fear. It only felt hunger. 

Donna backed away and kicked her chair into its path. It bounced harmlessly off, and rolled away as the zombie stepped into it.

Donna swung the cane towards its head. It missed, as at the last second she had to step back from its outreach. She swung again, hitting the left shoulder. The blow sent shock waves of pain up her arm as it came to a dead stop on what felt like petrified bone. Again, she had to quickly step back, running out of ideas on how to stop the undead invader.

In a final effort, she raised the cane high overhead and brought it down straight on top of its skull. It left an indentation as the cane made its impact, but snapped in two on contact.

The zombie hesitated, as if it lost its senses for a moment. Donna hoped and prayed that it would fall down and die. Her worst fear continued though. The zombie would show no quarter.

As she backed away, she passed a mannequin of an executioner. It was complete with a black hood and a five-foot plastic double-edged axe. She pulled it off balance and it fell in front of the zombie. It caught its foot as it stepped forward, tripping and falling across it.

An ornamental 12-inch knife displayed on the wall hung next to a mace with a round spiked ball on the end. Donna unhooked them both and bashed the zombie on the head with the mace as it tried to stand.

"Take that," she said, "and that. Die motherfucker, die!"

The mace was only a cheap imitation. Instead of being made of heavy iron, it was made of lightweight wood, painted to look like metal. The spiked ball did little to mar the living corpse, and snapped off the end of its handle.

In Donna's attempt to end the ordeal, she had put herself within the zombie's reach. It grabbed her boots, holding her fast in place.

With the knife in the other hand, she plunged the blade repeatedly into its back. Black, putrid, puss like liquid covered the blade and oozed from the wounds, sending a sickening odor into the air that made her wretch.

The zombie grabbed higher up her leg, pulling Donna off balance, down to the ground, and on her back. The knife slipped from her grasp and remained lodged in the creature.

Now held firmly in its clutches, the only weapon she had to defend herself as its head passed her knees was the handle from the broken mace. Instinctually, she grabbed the handle on either end and shoved it under the zombie's neck and against its chest, as its head reached her crotch.

The zombie's teeth clicked up and down less than an inch away from her pretty pink female parts. Donna pushed with all her might from literally being eaten out.

A middle-aged man in a business suit entered the room from the stairs, and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Donna struggling for her life.

"Help me," Donna grunted, seeing the man staring with a look of shock on his face.

The man's jaw dropped, he spread out his arms as if he was trying to maintain his balance. Then, he ran back toward the entranceway, partially running into the wall, unable to tear his eyes away from the fight. He bounced back to the center of the doorway, found his footing, and ran down the stairs as fast as he could. Leaving Donna to deal with whatever fate had in store for her alone.

The zombie struggled fiercely against Donna's resistance, the delicate flesh a tempting tidbit for its voracious hunger. Try as it might, it was unable to make contact. With uncontrolled wanting, the undead walker stuck its tongue out just to taste the precious skin that its teeth so wanted to tear into.

Donna felt the tongue tickle her clitoris. The waves of pleasure mixed with the endorphins of fear, creating an incredible mixture of ecstasy.

She had never been so scared in all her life. Yet, as it seemed the world around her was about to come to an abrupt end, she was experiencing unprecedented sensual pleasure. For the first time she understood why the men paid her for abuse. Donna had always been on the giving end, never on the receiving. Her insides shook with delight as the zombie pushed his tongue harder.

As her arms began to tire, the fatigue her muscles felt diminished her arousal. Fearing that it would break past her defense and bite her, she pulled the mace handle under his chin upward. The zombie lurched forward on its knees. Its head shot past her groin and landed on her stomach, just inches away from her exposed tit.