My Room Is A Dungeon Rest Stop Novels & Stories

Pins, screws, and replacement parts hold one of his legs. “By sex dungeon, do you mean Demon’s bedroom?” I asked him as I picked up Ken. He weighs significantly less than Ransom does, about equal to Carley. Jaxson was right again. Not much meat on his bones. “If you can call it a bedroom. It used to be Ali’s bedroom, but now it’s the dungeon,” he says while tying Ken to the chair. “It’s painted blue. Just because you guys stash all your sex toys and furniture there hardly makes it a dungeon and more like a sex room. We’ve always just called it the blue room.”

He sighed. “Stop looking at me like that, Estelle,” he said, removing his eyes. “Please, I have never asked for anything; let me just see him,” I said. He sighed again. “Fine,” he said, and our environment changed. I really need to learn how to teleport. We got to a dark place; it’s not that dark, but there was a light in the hallway. The dungeon was sparkling clean; I couldn’t stop any single dirt, and the irons were bronze and shiny. The floor is well tiled, and the air smells so neat.

"Enjoy your visit!" Jackson snickered. "Thank you." Turning away, he saluted her with two fingers before stalking off to the staircase in favor of the elevator. The place was just as he remembered it, back from when he applied. The same decaying brown furniture, the weird rustic smell. And as he turned the corner up the winding staircase, he discovered the fluorescent lights still bugged his eyes. The walls even had the same coat of chipped, barely white paint. It was ugly as hell. Nothing like the room they had for the party, it amazed him really that they refused to improve anything with the budget they had.

“Ah, damn it! Okay, sadness is not great ... But now she will be able to look into that locked room. Is Rozzie there? He returns to the door, grabbing a small lantern from the kitchen, picks up the key ... Gathering a full chest of air, he pushes it and looks inside. A bluish electric beam snatches out of the darkness the same ring in the wall as in her room, with a chain. There is no one at the other end of it ... There is no bed and a washbasin in this dungeon either. As well as imaginary straw. Only the stone floor covered in terrible black spots and streaks...

So I wait every night for her to retreat to her room and once I am sure she is asleep, then I move to restock my food and energy supplies. Since I don't have much to do in my room, either I work out, play games, or I am cleaning. Yes, I am cleaning my room. So what? Not every guy is a pig when it comes to his room. But it is starting to get boring. I think even my best friend is getting sick of me moaning about the situation. But who can blame him. Since I have nothing to do, I bug him all day long. And I mean it literally.

"My decision is a supreme command, and you are required to follow it with complete obedience. You get that, don't you, Dylan?" Dylan cast a helpless look in Drake's direction before lowering his head. ——— In the dungeon, Miren sat cross-legged in a small corner of the dusty room. The ground beneath her feet was covered in filth and rat droppings. The green moss that covered the walls gave off a faintly fishy and putrid odor, which combined with the moss's coverage of the walls to create an extremely stuffy environment in the room.

The door creaked as it was pushed open. A stranger walked in—a she-wolf in a thick deerskin coat. The light in my eyes instantly dimmed, and a self-mocking smile tugged at my lips. I was being deluded again. The she-wolf froze when she saw me. She probably hadn't expected to see a fragile Omega sitting alone in the restroom of a deserted rest stop in the middle of a snowstorm. After studying me carefully, she asked in a gentle voice, "Hi there, young one. My name is Felicia. Are you here alone? Where's your family?"

… Soon, the dorm room's group chat began buzzing. I clicked in to read the messages. There was a photo of Theo leaning against my sports car, which Miranda scratched up. He was dressed in a black hoodie, dark blue jeans, and white sneakers. He looked incredibly handsome yet languid. Miranda was beside herself with excitement. "Do you think he's my hot boyfriend? He didn't even demand compensation after I scratched up his car. It has to be him! Who knew my Prince Charming was so close all along? He's so sweet that he must be reluctant to make me pay compensation. He wants to help me save up. What should I do? Gosh, my heart is racing."

I took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was not what I expected. It wasn’t dark or dungeon-like. It was painted a deep, calming blue. The floor was covered in soft, black mats. One wall was covered in shelves, neatly arranged with an array of toys I had only ever seen in videos. Dildos of all sizes and shapes, floggers, paddles, gags, clamps, and things I couldn’t even name. In the center of the room was a low, padded bench, like a sawhorse but covered in black leather. Damien was there, leaning against the wall, watching me. He was wearing only a pair of black sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the powerful muscles of his chest and abdomen. He looked less like a CEO