I rip my eyes away from them, hating that they’re here. I have to ignore them whenever they come. Instead I focus on the couple in the center of the room, the reason most everyone is in this room. The ideal couple. The one that exemplifies what I consider to be the fantasy of this lifestyle.
I watch as he kisses her softly on the lips and places a blindfold over her eyes. There’s a guard to the right of them, watching vigilantly. There’s another one down at the end of the room, also watching the couple and the onlookers like me. These men observe everything and every detail. They see everything. The men in the suits are here to enforce order in case things go too far. They know the safe words ahead of time. Although everything is done discreetly. And some couples don’t use safewords at all.
I was shocked the first time I saw one of these men disrupt a session. I could understand why though, she was screaming for her partner to stop. The very fact that the guard felt the need to step in made me fear for the submissive. The guard merely stepped forward and requested that the submissive give her safe word. The dominant stepped back immediately, lowering the paddle he was using on her, and the submissive gave it, out of breath and still writhing in the binds that held her down. She whispered the word green and then looked to her master, waiting for more. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time a guard had interrupted them.
The man in the suit stepped back and the scene continued. The submissive kept screaming as her master fucked her ruthlessly, using her body mercilessly, fucking her with vicious need and smacking the paddle against her skin as he took her almost like a caveman from primordial times.
It was a rape fantasy reenacted before my very eyes. It was very difficult to watch and my eyes kept going over to the guard that was standing nearby. But he didn’t move anymore. As long as the submissive didn’t say the safe word, the dominant had complete control over her. They were free to act out whatever fantasies they shared in complete safety.
For couples without safe words, they merely nod at the guards when asked if they’re alright. Or so I’ve been told. I’ve only seen a guard interrupt once. I’m surprised how many couples don’t have safe words. Some simply use ‘stop’. I suppose it’s different for every partnership.
Most of the clients in here seem paired up, like these two. It makes me envy them. Especially when they’re collared. Collars are like wedding bands. My eyes fall to the floor and my heart thuds. Maybe that’s more of my romance novels slipping in. I don’t know for sure that the people here regard collars so highly.
It’s hard not to confuse reality and fantasy. But that’s easy to do here. This place is like a fantasy come to life.
A movement out of the corner of my eye causes me to look around. The breath stills in my throat and my heart skips a beat. There he is. Looking at him, I can hardly stand, my knees are so weak. He’s like a dark prince, dressed all in black with his pitch-black half mask, the edges of it looking torn. It serves only to enhance his chiseled features. My breath quickens as his eyes bore into me with an intensity that makes my skin prick. The room seems to bow to him. Everything urges me to bend to his will. And I want to.
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the floor. A chill travels down my shoulder and through my spine. He has a power over me more intense than anyone else. A pull to him so strong I nearly give in and fall to my knees as I feel his gaze on me.
I’ve seen this man before. In fact, I ran into him when I was new to the club. My cheeks burn at the memory, remembering his dark gaze on me, the flush of my skin as I sank to my knees and apologized for being so clumsy. He watches me sometimes when I come into the club and I’m always almost overwhelmed. At first I thought it was all in my head that he was checking me out and then I thought I was just getting carried away by my fantasies. But he followed me down here.
He must want something from me. The thought makes my body come alive with desire.
Or maybe it really is all in my head, I think to myself. No one knows me here. I’ve tried my best to make myself as invisible as possible.
But as I move away and walk over to the St. Andrew’s cross that sits next to a rack of whips and rope, I can feel him following me, stalking my every move.
My breathing quickens as I do something I’ve yet to do. I slowly fall to a kneel, trying to remember every detail the trainer showed me about proper posture. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. But my body feels compelled by a mysterious force.
I show him submission.
I invite him to have power over me.
Chapter 4
Joseph
I can’t take my eyes off of her. It happens every time she comes in here. Lilly. I follow her, staying a safe distance, her gorgeous curves stringing me along. I’ll never admit to her how much power she has over me; I can’t help but to follow her through the club, watching her and gauging her reaction to the variety of kinks. I know she’s seen me this time.
She’s not put off by it. She doesn’t seem frightened, although I obviously affect her. It’s as if she’s waiting for me. She’s never done this before. She’s never invited anyone into her personal space. Let alone kneel as though she’s waiting for me, offering me a chance at her submission.
Seeing her kneeling there, looking vulnerable and sexy as fuck in that red nightie that makes my cock harden, my heart beats faster. I take a quick glance around the room, a possessive side of me rising from deep within my veins, but no one moves to go to her. A few eyes are on me, narrowing with questioning looks, but they fall when I look they’re way.
I ignore them all. I always do.
They don’t know shit about me. And I give zero fucks about what they think they know.
These masks are good for hiding the identities of the men from the submissives. But it’s no secret who we are to one another. The tight social circles that run this city, both from the highest highs of skyscrapers and penthouses, to the dirtiest lows of the pulses that run the streets. We all know each other. We know who has business with who and what side each of us is on. Right now, I belong to neither, but I’m well known to both.
I can tell from the way they look at me out of the corner of their eyes without moving an inch, without even breathing. By the way they stay away and avoid me at all costs. I know for a fact that they know who I am. And I sure as fuck know who they are.
We’re all wise men here, powerful, and with too much to lose to engage in this kind of activity around people we don’t know. Even with contracts and NDA’s; we’re bred not to trust. With so far to fall and so much to lose, most of these men stay in the private rooms once they’ve found someone to pursue and indulge in.
But me? I have nothing to lose. And I know exactly what I want. Or rather whom I want.
I approach her slowly, almost cautiously, as if moving too quickly will frighten her away. The very notion that she’s offering this gift to me, thrills me.
She’s been coming to the dungeon more often as if she’s looking for something, as if she needs some kind of depravity that she can only find here. But she’s yet to engage. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. For that moment when she’s ready to test how her pleasure reacts to pain and how much freedom she’d get by giving over control.