The Rabbit Hole

I am sitting cross-legged in the middle of the basement on the platform, which turns out to be a mattress on a solid platform, taking everything in. For the past week, curiosity has driven me down here each evening after work to try to work out what makes Alex tick. My Google history would make even the worldliest person blush, and my Amazon purchase history would rival that of a psychologist. I think I am starting to understand Alex's world a little better, and now that I have explored his dungeon further with fresh eyes, I can understand the purpose of most of the equipment lining the walls. I feel like I have become a walking, talking BDSM encyclopaedia, despite not having really experienced any of it for myself. Weirdly, my dreams have been growing darker and darker each night and twice now I have woken up from climaxing in my sleep. Never before has my little battery-operated boyfriend—or Bob, as I affectionately call it—had quite so much use.