What a shame. Dante had hoped for a threesome, at least.
Glancing to the side of him at Teddy, he watched as his best friend hung on Shay’s every step, her every move, his eyes roaming up and down her body, all over in fact.
“She’s older than you, you know?” Dante sneered almost.
Shay hadn’t even acknowledged their arrival yet. Perhaps she wanted to let them know who was boss. Playing hard to get.
“What does that matter?” Teddy chuckled. “If anything she might be able to teach me something new.”
“True. I don’t think she fancies you though, mate. She’d be straight over here otherwise.”
“Whatever. Listen, I’m heading to the bar. Want anything?”
Dante sniggered. “They have a bar? Wow. Here was me thinking this was all tunnels and mud and rock.”
Teddy glared with a smile hiding behind his eyes. “Ha! Maybe that’s made of mud, too.”
Teddy strode off, weaving around the men and women, saying hello.
The reception hall was lit by candelabra but the ceiling was low and the air felt cool. He noticed oil heaters dotted around the perimeter but otherwise, it was completely medieval. He still had no idea why people excitedly frequented dungeons. It made no sense to him at all and he remained curious and cynical about the whole place.
Aware he was loitering around alone while everyone else was already paired up, he felt awkward and decided to move about and explore the domain he supposedly owned. How eccentric must his uncle have been, really?
“Sinclair?”
“Yes,” he answered, unsure.
He turned and was faced with a pair of enquiring grey eyes belonging to Shay. Holding out her hand in a dainty fashion, palm down, he took her fingers gently between his own and bent slightly to bestow a barely there kiss.
“Shay, I’ve heard so much about you from Teddy.”
“Yes?” She raised her eyebrows, the crop in her hand dangling at her side.
“All good.”
Unlike girls he’d encountered at university halls or in pubs or clubs, Shay didn’t blush, didn’t avoid eye contact. She kept his stare and in fact, he found that he was the one wanting to avoid her eyes. Shay wasn’t afraid of him, nor intimidated. She didn’t show any sort of admiration or fear. She displayed nothing whatsoever, in fact.
“Well, Sinclair. Follow me.”
He fell into step beside her and she showed him to one of the rooms off a long, gravel-floored corridor with no more decoration that what he had already seen. The whole place looked like Frankenstein’s underground laboratory and he decided he was meant to be frightened here. Pity it took a lot to scare him.
Alone aside from the room having no door they could shut, they stood in barren surroundings.
“I’m going to speak now and you can ask questions at the end.”
“Okay.”
Her eyebrows almost Vulcan, she asserted, “All the women here are to be addressed as Mistress so if the lady tells you her name, such as myself, then you are to address her Mistress Shay… and so forth. Except… anyone lower than me usually calls me Madam and I’m not sure, but I’m willing to bet you are lower.”
She barely smiled, barely shifted from her rigid stance of the unwavering, stoic boss.
“Okay… Madam Shay.” He almost chuckled, testing out the ludicrous terminology on his lips.
She turned her chin slightly, regarding him with equal cynicism. “You don’t know what we do here, do you?”
“Yes… you service men.”
Holding her crop in front of her, she held both ends, stretching her arms out as a gymnast would with her baton. He took that as a threatening gesture.
“We spank men. Spank them very hard. I’m trained in whipping, flogging, scourging on occasion, burning, cutting, shoving nine-inch dildos up some of the most famous men in the country… not to mention slashing their skin open with canes and then… there’s my favourite, CBT.” She looked greedy then, like Morticia Addams with a set of chains, ready for Gomez. Dante saw beyond Shay’s angelic blondeness to the wicked temptress beneath.
He held up his hand like a school kid in class and she nodded for him to speak. “CBT?”
“Cock and ball torture.”
He almost choked. “Say what now?”
She finally smiled and looked pretty for the first time since he’d met her.
“You’re twenty-one. Why do you think he put me in charge and kept you out of this?”
“I’m beginning to understand. I’m also ready for a drink.”
“Soon, I promise,” she said, and despite her small stature, she had the presence of a giant.
She didn’t falter in her manner, not one chink in her armour. She had the poise of a ballerina, the stance of a warrior and the self-assured air of an Army colonel.
“I’m actually not sore at all that he put you in charge. I’m just sore that Teddy got to come here first, even though this place is mine.”
“Well,” she said in an almost-hiss, “he is five months older than you. Twenty-one is the rule.”
“I know but I thought–”
“We’d make special dispensation for you?”
“Yes.”
Shaking her head, she put him in his place, lifting her chin to look him dead in the eye. “Rules are rules.”
She began circling him and he didn’t know what else to do except hold his hands behind his back. Beneath the black silk robes all the men wore, their modesty was covered only by their boxer shorts or whatever underclothes they’d brought along with them. For Dante, that was a pair of white boxers which he desperately hoped she couldn’t see beneath the gossamer-thin black silk robe – the stark contrast of white and black embarrassing. He also wasn’t very fond of the slippers which only went up to a size twelve. He was a thirteen.
“Huge feet,” she remarked.
“Hmm. A problem, I know.”
“No problem. I’m just saying.”
She continued to circle him.
“What the problem is though…” she mused, finally stopping by the side of him to whisper in his ear, “…is that you’re not into this kind of shit, are you?”
He threw his head back laughing. “How could you tell?”
“I can smell the innocence on you… it’s choking,” she snarled.
“I’m not innocent. Teddy may have them queuing up, but after I’m done with women, they’re never the same again.”
She stepped in front of him, her head cocked to ask him, “How so?”
“It’s a little bit extraordinary.” He nodded down to his nether regions.
“Equipment. Really? I have a thirteen-inch dildo somewhere. Don’t you think I could make you scream… if I wanted?”
He flushed an embarrassing colour and she gave a wicked grin.
“Sinclair, you have a lot to learn. Size… colour… smell… gender… all matter not. The minute you can get inside a woman’s head and fuck her without touch, maybe then I will respect you. Until then… you’re just another young man with a big bank account and a big, well… I really don’t see how that makes you different from any of the other fools here.”
He nodded, stroking his chin. “I see. You’re trying to fuck with my mind now.”
“Maybe… maybe not. Come… we’ll go get you that drink.”
They began walking back through the medieval corridors towards a large room where people congregated in clumps, either around the bar or in packs. Some of the packs sheltered the action between two or more people engaged in spanking.
“Who will I be paired with?” he dared ask.
She dropped him by Teddy’s side, at the bar. “I said you could ask questions… I didn’t say I would answer them.”
She left him with Teddy, turning on her heel to head into the crowds, seemingly disappearing in a moment.
“See?”
“She’s a mind-fucker.”
Teddy handed him a Scotch even though Dante didn’t do Scotch.
He drank bourbon because his father said real men drank bourbon. Signalling to the barman, he asked, “Bourbon. Double.”
The barman, dressed in a choker and leather jeans, bare feet… produced a bourbon within mere seconds. The liquor spent even less time on Dante’s tongue than it did in the glass.
“Hit me again.”
More liquor was poured and once Dante felt the heat of the alcohol hit his veins, he said to his mate, “What is up with her?”
“I don’t know… but I want to. Don’t you?”
“Bizarre… who is she?”
“The boss… and she only tops one man in this place. All the others can only try to get a piece of her.”
“I see. So who’s her victim?”
“He’s deputy PM right now… but you never know, one day…”
“Fucking hell.”
“They say a really good Mistress can make you determined to win in the real world, after she’s brought you to your knees down here.”
They slammed another round of shots before a couple of girls slid over to greet them.
“Sinclair. I’ve been told I might be able to help you?” He faced a young, fresh-faced beauty.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
The girl, perhaps twenty-five, beckoned Dante follow her and he did. Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed Teddy walk off with a redhead he was seemingly familiar with. Teddy didn’t look sad but he didn’t look happy either. He now understood why his crush on Shay was so bad. The woman was an enigma.
“My name’s Mistress Jayne,” the brunette sent to service him said, “Madam Shay said we could use one of the rooms.”
“I hope not for CBT. I’m not sure about that.”
“I’m new too,” she said as he followed her, “we can break each other in gently. Perhaps why she chose me for you.”
“Indeed. I wouldn’t want her for my first lesson in whipping, I’d not come out alive.”
She smiled and her blue eyes showed a hint of some knowledge he didn’t possess. Infuriated by these temptresses, he was also seriously aroused.
“When her sub sits on his arse in the cabinet offices, you can imagine him smiling for days on end at the memory of her mark on him, can’t you?”
“Mark?”
“She doesn’t just whip him… she decimates him. He always thanks her for it. All the men thank her for it.”
“Yeah, but… Teddy just said she only tops one–”
“In essence, she tops all the men here. Because all the women learn from her, her influence ripples down through the hierarchy and… flows gently, cascading through the male libido, until it shoots out of them. Literally. She is actually responsible for all the cum released here. How she sleeps at night, knowing all that cum is hers, I don’t know.”
“I see.” Dante tried to sound normal.
Inside he was fucking horrified – and still morbidly aroused.
They reached a vacant room but unlike the one he’d been in before, this one was dressed in a few bits of material and a shelf above them harboured some toys of torture, he noticed.
“The men disrobe down to their underwear at this point and kiss the lady’s boot as a sign of worship.”
He pointed at the open doorway. “But there’s no privacy.”
“So?”
With reluctance he removed his robe and draped it over a wooden bench. When she raised her boot to the same bench, he knelt down and kissed the shiny leather. He wasn’t too pleased about people seeing him submit, something he already knew wasn’t for him.
“It’s prudent to thank a Mistress for the privilege.”
The privilege of what? he thought with amusement. Kissing dirty leather…
Deciding it was all part and parcel of the game, he said, “Thank you, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, hop up onto the bed.”
It was less a bed and more a sacrificial slab, he decided. Covered only in purple velvet, he hopped up and sat on the edge, his slippers and white shorts the only items covering him.
“How do you usually respond to pain?” she asked, picking up a clipboard with a piece of paper attached to it.
“It never bothers me. I take it like a man.”
“Blood doesn’t scare you?” She seemed to tick off items on a checklist.
“Not really. Although, I haven’t had much experience with getting cut open. Last time was probably a broken nose playing rugby. Hence why I stopped playing rugby.”
She regarded his nose and said, “I see it now. Slight ridge. Whoever reset you did good work.”
“My brother. He’s a doctor. He made sure the damage wasn’t too bad.”
“I see. Is he special to you?”
“Who, my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you want to know about my brother?”
“The Mistresses like to know everything. It helps us build a picture of who you are, what your needs are… all of that.”
What he really needed was to get out of there, go to a club and find a woman or women to screw all night because he knew he wasn’t going to get that here.
He was only visiting because he was curious. Now, he was a little bit disgusted.
“Well, I’ve never done this before. I’ve fucked women, but that’s about the extent of my experience. I’ve discovered at least thirty-one different sexual positions I can make a woman orgasm in… I’ve also mastered the G-spot, and the clit, and anal arousal too. I can suck a woman’s nipple until she makes orgasm.”
Jayne cleared her throat. “Very nice. I think I’ll ask the questions, though. Then you’ll answer them.”
“Okay.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how would you feel about CBT?”
“One.”
“One a scale of one to ten, how would you feel about flogging?”
“That’s not as bad as the others, right?”
“Right.”
“Five.”
“Caning?”
“One.”
“Whipping?”
“One.”
“Hmm. Humiliation?”
“Zero.”
“Pegging.”
“Is that arse or mouth?”
“Arse.”
“Zero.”
“And penetration of the mouth?”
“Nought point five. Maybe… nearer zero.”
She arched a brow and mouthed what he’d just said with a degree of disgust.
“Slapping?”
“Five.”
“Kissing my boot.”
“Three.”
“Kissing me.”
“Ten.”
“Penetrating me.”
“Ten.”
“Flogging me?”
He looked at her, surprised. “I don’t know. Never done it before.”
“Never done it before,” she repeated, scribbling on the form in exasperation.
For a moment Dante considered what Teddy had answered on his form. He’d probably cheated and answered ten to all. He felt sure Teddy wasn’t even remotely kinky. They both had high sex drives for sure but Teddy had never mentioned anything about wanting a woman to press her shoe against his face, which he’d seen many women out in the hall doing.
“Okay. Seeing as though you are perhaps the most vanilla we’ve ever had land on our doorstep, we’ll break you in slowly.”
“I can say no, anytime. Right?” he asked, nervous.
“I’ll ask how you are. If you say green, that means okay. Amber for not sure. Red for get the hell off me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“On your feet.”
He stood by the side of the stone slab and she brought a collar off the shelf, bringing it towards him. Wrapping it around his throat, but not to choke him, she asked, “How’s that?”
“Okay.”
“You mean, green?”
“Green.”
She produced a set of leather cuffs and strapped them around his wrists. “How’s that?”<
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“Green?” he said, hoping to give the right answer.
He heard her reach upwards and he looked up. A thick wire with a hook on the end hung from the ceiling and when she pulled it, it lengthened from a pulley.
“You can stop this anytime. This is your playtime, not mine. I’m here to make this good for you, do you understand? If at any moment you don’t feel good, you must tell me.”
“I will,” he agreed.
“Colour?”
“Green.”
“Okay. I need you to be strong. I need that because I’m now threading the wire between your wrist hooks. I’m doing to raise your arms above your head.”
“Okay.”
She started pulling on the cord and his hands rose high above his head.
“I don’t want you to hang. That’s not good. When you start to feel yourself sag, you need to tell me, and we’ll bring you down.”
“I won’t sag. I’m strong.”
“Good.”
“Why are you restraining me? Out of interest.”
“You’re giving over control to me. If you can do that, you might even find it liberating.”
“Okay.”
“Because you said the flogger might not be an unattractive prospect, I’ll start with that on your thighs and calves. You have very strong muscles.”
“I do?”
“They please me a lot.”
“They do?”
“Yes. You have lovely proportions. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?” She smiled, genuinely he felt. She was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. All the women here were. It sort of disconcerted him.
“No.”
“Well, you do. I love that there aren’t any nicks on you whatsoever, not even a tattoo. It’ll make marking you even more pleasurable.”
“It will?” He felt surprised.
“It will. Now, are you ready?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Okay, I’ll strike your thighs first, then your calves. If you’re okay, we can maybe move onto your back.”
“I’m ready.”
The first strike across the backs of his legs did sting but the hurt was gone quickly. It wasn’t nearly as painful as pulling a hamstring on the rugby field after running for almost an hour already.
The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2) Page 2