As I wait for the bar tender, I glance across the large hall. The stage on the back wall is dark tonight, the curtains are closed and I don’t know if that’s a good thing. I look forward to the shows, not only are they exhilarating, they’re a great learning experience.
I order a shot of tequila, making sure to keep my gaze in a safe place. Within seconds, the shot glass is placed down in front of me by a beautiful bar vixen with long dark hair, wearing the same professional uniform the other employees have on. There’s no mixing up who’s working here and who’s here for play.
The liquid burns as it goes down my throat, but it’s a comfortable feeling. I know it will help me deal with the experience of the dungeon. Even though I’m hungry for the experience, the alcohol aids me in handling with the intense sexual emotions that run through my body. The alcohol is nothing in comparison to how intoxicating the sights in the dungeon can be. I bite into the lime and let it wash the taste of the liquor out of my mouth, the sourness making my eyes close tightly.
When I’m done with my drink, the fiery liquid warming my belly, I leave the bar and make my way through the halls, blending in and trying to disappear amongst the crowd.
A few men approach me as I pass the playroom. I swallow thickly, my heartbeat racing as I pause in my steps. I don’t look at them, but I make sure that my bracelet is in view. Once they see it, they move on. No one seems interested in someone who still doesn’t know what they want.
With the rubber bracelet on my wrist, the only people who talk to me are submissives waiting for their partners or the trainers. I like it that way. It makes me want to keep the bracelet forever. It makes me feel safe. But the days are limited. The membership here is expensive. Too fucking expensive. The first month with this bracelet was on the house. Madam Lynn, the owner I think, said that I could stay to see if it suited me. But next month I have to pay up if I’m not paired up. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Or if I ever will be. But the month is almost up.
It’s hard not to stop and stare at the sexual acts taking place in the playroom as I pass them. The men and women going at each other with untamed depravity. Their moans and cries and grunts and groans assault my ears, the smack of their flesh pounding against each other, filling my already heated blood with sexual desire.
I ignore it as best I can, although my breathing is coming in faster, and continue on into the darkened corridors, my pulse racing with excitement.
There’s nothing in this world like the place I’m about to enter. The playrooms are an intense experience, but down here it’s far more… primal, possessive, raw in every sense of the word. I make my way down a darkened hallway to where two men dressed in dark suits wait on either side of a large iron cast door. They’re employees, guards who make sure that everything runs smoothly. And that no laws are broken. They give me a cursory glance before opening the door, the sound of its creaking making my heart jump in my chest.
I suck in a jagged breath before I walk into a darkened stairwell, the only lighting being small, glowing red scones on the wall, giving the area an almost evil feel. A few masked men pass me on my way down and their way up, their dark gazes holding secrets that chill my blood. One man even stops to look at me as if thinking that I am looking to be taken, but when he sees my bracelet, he keeps moving like the men back at the playroom.
They respect that I’m not ready and not a single person has tried to push me. There are rules to the club and they’re strictly followed. It makes me feel safe. It’s odd to think that way, given the nature of this place. But I do feel safe.
I shudder to even think about what goes on through the Masters and Dominants’ head when they look at me. In a thrilling and exciting way. A way that hardens my nipples and sends a pulsing need to my clit. I’m almost ashamed at how turned on I am by their questioning glances and piercing stares and the sinful thoughts I know that lurk behind their eyes.
It’s just how I imagine it in my books. I only hope I can write about this in a way that does this place justice. That captures the sensual seductive side along with the other emotions coursing through my blood.
As I get closer to my destination, a shrill scream that’s a mix of pleasure and pain, rips through the stairwell. It’s followed by whimpers and moans. I pause, gripping onto the banister for support, my breath stalling in my lungs. I’ve been here many times, but I still can’t prepare myself for some of the darker things that happen in the dungeon. It’s so sexually intense that I become dizzy with desire and emotion. Thank God I’ve taking that hit of tequila.
After I calm myself, I continue on until I make it to the bottom floor. The sounds of moans and seductive pleading filling my ears.
It’s a place that resembles a 17th century English dungeon, with cages and racks on either side of the room, and torch lighting along the walls. The ambiance is everything that makes this room… tempting and forbidden mixed with danger and fright.
It’s more private here, especially this early, but I’ve seen many things here that I never imagined I would. Even more, things that have turned me on. Scenes I’ve watched play out and then later been ashamed to have gotten aroused by. I’ve seen a woman beaten with a whip until tears were falling down her cheeks. Her ass bright red from the markings of the whip. But she leaned into it. She begged for more. Her master gave her what he felt she needed and the way he took her after made me desire the same ruthless touch.
I want to feel what she feels. I want to experience it to understand why she desired it as much as she did.
I watch, stalking along the edges of the room, as a naked, dark-haired woman is bound to a bench, the rough rope is coarse and would chafe her skin but her masked master places a thin piece of silk under it. Her lips part in a soft moan and whimper mixed as he binds her so tightly she can barely move. I can see his huge hard cock pressing against his silk slacks. It forces an intense wave of arousal through every part of me.
The Master, or dominant, I’m not sure, is wearing the membership bracelet. Two bands of silver and in the center, red. I shiver at what the bracelet signifies. This dude is into some dark shit. Sadism and Masochism.
I’ve seen this couple before, though I don’t know their names. I don’t know anyone’s real name, actually. It’s funny, I’ve been coming here for a while, and I don’t know anything about anyone. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m here for the experience. And names are rarely used inside Club X.
Another couple is seated on a bench, I’ve seen them before too. The man gives me chills like no other. And not in a good way. His eyes are beady and pure black. His hand gripping his pet’s shoulder, squeezing. He’s always touching her, or pulling her collar. I’ve never seen them interact in anyway other than what they’re currently doing. With her on her knees on the ground, looking straight ahead and him behind her, whispering into her ear.
Her hair is wispy and unkempt, which also makes them stand out. None of the others look like her. They’re taken care of in ways she’s not. Most of the women here are given looks of jealousy from me, I can’t help it. But not her, I can’t help the sympathy I feel for her.
Of all the people here, he’s the only one that doesn’t seem to belong. And because of the way he treats her. The way she doesn’t beg him for more. The way his touch seems to wilt her spirit rather than enhance it.