“Of course.” He looks at me apologetically. “You know better than anyone how important it is.”
Thinking back on Samantha, I confess, “I never fully appreciated how the dynamics can change in the blink of an eye during a scene. Honoring a safeword is the only guarantee both parties have of walking out of it unscathed.”
“Especially when you’re talking about a dungeon full of sadists,” he banters, trying to lighten the mood he’s created.
Knowing Anderson meant no offense, I nod. “Yes, particularly with sadists.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good, because we’ll be leaving in a few hours. I have something I want to show you first.”
It’s a long drive to the remote dungeon. In fact, it’s far enough away to make it inconvenient, but I have come up with a solution to that problem.
Igor takes us down a winding path in a dense forest. After he parks, I get out and walk to the middle of a large field surrounded by trees. “I just purchased these eight hundred acres of woods.”
Anderson rubs his hands together vigorously, shivering as he adjusts to the freezing temperature. Looking around the clearing, he says, “Mighty fine land you have here. What do you plan to do with it?”
I shrug. “I was thinking of building a luxury vacation home with every convenience known to man.”
“Hmm…” He walks the perimeter of the clearing. “If I were you, I’d build a rustic cabin big enough for your guests, of course, but something in harmony with nature. Imagine yourself pulling up to this huge wood cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Smoke billowing from the chimney, inviting you and your guests to come in and stay awhile.”
He points to the other side of the clearing. “And, over there, you have a huge barn with horses, cows, and chickens to keep you company.”
I snort. “I like your idea, minus the nuisance of animals.”
“So be it. A rustic cabin in the woods. The perfect escape from modern city life whenever you need it.”
I smile. “I like the way you think, cattleman.”
As we head to the dungeon, I can tell Anderson is getting nervous by the way he rubs his hands against his jeans every few minutes.
Naturally, I find it amusing.
“Rest easy, Anderson. I took Thane here once and he survived.”
“Did he?” he asks, sounding relieved.
“Just keep a straight face and think like a sadist. You’ll be fine.”
He laughs. “What do sadists think like?”
“Intense pain is an act of pleasure, and these submissives crave it like no other.”
Anderson sucks in his breath and lets it out slowly, nodding. “Got it.”
The moment we pull up to the ancient stone building, I see his nerves return and I begin to wonder if this was a mistake.
The historic building with its lone spire and stained-glass windows used to be a church. Casual travelers easily mistake it as such, never suspecting the depravity enjoyed within its majestic walls.
Before we enter the building, I stop Anderson. “Remember, no eye contact with the subs. Every scream you hear comes from the lips of a woman who came here tonight wanting what we can give them.” I smirk, adding, “There’s no reason to ‘rescue’ them.”
Anderson laughs.
We both recall the night I introduced him to a dungeon for the first time. He was ready to beat up every Dominant there to defend the woman he thought they were abusing.
It still makes me chuckle, thinking back on it.
“You ready for this, cattleman?”
He lets out an anxious sigh, then nods. “Let’s do this.”
I use the large iron knocker to announce our arrival. The metal reverberates with a deep, satisfying sound. The peephole opens, and the doorman asks me a series of questions. After answering them correctly, the heavy door swings open and we’re invited inside.
We walk in together and everyone stops in mid-action as their gaze moves to us. I have already forewarned my friends that I was bringing Anderson with me tonight. These men are a private lot and don’t appreciate the invasion of outsiders.
I have assured them Anderson’s skill with the bullwhip is worth their inconvenience.
Anderson takes off his hat as he surveys our private cathedral of kink.
Nodding to the other Dominants, he follows my lead and hands his hat, coat, and tool bag to the naked submissive waiting to take it.
“Feel free to observe before you pick one of my three subs over there.”
I point to the three naked submissives bound together on a pole, each waiting to fulfill his fantasy. I have purposely given him a choice of subs who can accommodate his large girth.
The Doms return to their own scenes, and soon the room is filled with the sounds of rough play.
As I converse with several of my friends, I watch Anderson quietly walk through the dungeon and stop to observe a stockade scene.
The sub has been locked in a kneeling position, her head and hands secured by the wooden device. She is completely defenseless as her Master canes her naked ass.
There is nothing as alluring than when a sadist and a masochist get together. The union is fierce but sexually satisfying for both partners. A submissive’s open willingness, coupled with the sadist’s ruthless desire, makes for a sexual energy few ever experience.
Her cries of pain stir me.
Anderson must agree, because it is not long before he walks away from the scene to meet my three girls. I hang back, curious about which one he will choose.
To my surprise, Anderson picks the tiniest sub rather than the Amazonian woman standing beside her. The reduced surface area for play will require more precision on his part, but perhaps that is what he is hungry for.
Anderson unties her from the pole and leads her to a small wooden platform on the floor. He takes the cuffs chained to the base and wraps them around her ankles so her legs are spread apart but she has slack enough to move.
He then grabs the cuffs above her head and lowers them so he can secure her small wrists. The beauty of this platform is that it allows for movement during the session, but the sub cannot get away.
He pulls the sub’s head back and kisses her roughly before moving away.
I’m impressed when Master Anderson snaps his fingers as if he is a longtime member of this dungeon. The submissive who took his things comes running with his tool bag. Anderson takes out his bullwhip and dismisses her so he can warm up.
Not many Doms at this dungeon have seen, much less used, a bullwhip. They prefer the wickedness of the cat o’ nines. I look forward to seeing their reactions when they observe his masterful skill.
He instantly commands everyone’s attention when he cracks his whip above his head. His little sub ditya has never felt the bite of a bullwhip and cowers at the sound of it.
After warming up his muscles, Anderson begins. His lashes are light, barely grazing the skin. The other Doms look at each other with smirks on their faces. Clearly, they not impressed when they hear her moans of pleasure instead of pain.
I wonder if the cattleman has forgotten my instruction until that first powerful lash strikes her.
The scream that comes from her lips attracts the attention of all the Doms in the dungeon.
Anderson starts talking to her in a low voice as he swings his whip around several times before each lash. Even though ditya doesn’t speak English, she responds to the commanding tone in his voice.