The Scarlett Letters

by Jenny Nordbak

  He caught his breath and gave me a smile that made him look twenty years younger. “Sorry if that alarmed you. Tantric orgasms. You just have to ride out the wave.”

  I helped Erin to clean up after he left.

  “He’s an easy session. You have a great ass, so I’m sure when you start Switching he’ll want to play with you. Raven can fart on command and that’s his favorite, if you fart while he’s sniffing your butt. I have no such skills, but we make it work.”

  I would come to learn that a large percentage of our clients fell into Dan’s age category and it made me curious to know their stories. Had they gone their whole lives adhering to a vanilla lifestyle, all the while burying their kinks? At what point did they wake up and decide that they were going to go to a dungeon and live out their fantasies? Did they just reach a certain age when they stopped giving a fuck? Was it after their wives had died? Or was it awareness of their own mortality that drove them to experiment, lest they go to the grave never having really lived out their deepest desires? It would take awhile before I had the confidence and relationships with my clients to be able to ask, and their answers were as wonderfully varied as their fantasies.

  Doggie Dan, it turned out, was in his eighties. His marriage to his late wife, Margery, was a classic love story that revolved around World War II. He had been a pilot in the war, and they had eloped in secret before he went off to fight in the South Pacific. He told wild stories of the war and of the tumultuous years that followed. They were only teenagers when they wed, but their love had endured until Margery died in a car accident when she was in her sixties. Dan said he knew he would never love again, but that exploring his fetish had given him a new reason to live. He had been coming to the Dungeon at least once a week like clockwork for over a decade. I always stood in awe of him for having the balls to start exploring at that age. He simply explained that he had lost everything when Margery passed, so he had nothing to lose by doing whatever the hell he wanted in the years he had left. It struck me as sad that in spite of how madly in love they were, he had never felt able to tell her his secret fantasies.

  Every time I played with Dan, I was reminded that just because people get older doesn’t necessarily mean their libido withers and dies. It is perhaps uncomfortable to think of our grandparents in that light, but I think we unfairly cast older men as “dirty old men” simply for not having the decency to lose all interest in sex because they’ve passed an arbitrary age. And the idea of a promiscuous older woman is unacceptable to most people. Women of a certain age shouldn’t even think about sex lest they be judged. I for one plan to be a dirty old lady.

  11. ETHAN

  I was apprehensive going into the interview room with my new client Ethan but I insisted I could manage it on my own. I loved that the other girls were being supportive, but I didn’t want to get used to using them as a crutch. I needed to figure things out for myself.

  I was pleasantly surprised when I met Ethan and discovered that he was a moderately attractive guy of roughly my own age. He seemed like a kid next to all of the other clients I had seen come and go so far. He was fairly tall but carried a little extra weight that I think added to the overall sense that he was just a baby. Oddly, my first impression of him was that he was into magic tricks, which proved to be amusing when he told me that his session revolved around hypnosis.

  “I want to try to hypnotize you and then control you. We can try the methods of hypnosis that I’ve learned, but then I want to role-play that I have a magic necklace that gives me total control over you. I can make you do whatever I want.”

  “Sounds fun,” I told him with a flirty smile. “What kind of stuff would you have me do? Just so we’re clear on boundaries before we get into the scene. I’d hate to have to break the moment.”

  “Mostly silly stuff. Hop on one foot, jog in place, bark like a dog. Then once I’ve proven that I can make you do whatever I want, maybe get a little more risqué … make you touch yourself, stuff like that. Whatever you’d be comfortable with. You could decide what it means.” He suddenly looked shy.

  “I can decide? I thought you were going to have control of me?” I teased.

  “You know what I mean.” He smiled. “I’ll leave those directions vague enough that you can do whatever you’re comfortable with and we don’t have to do more than that.”

  “I can make that work. Anything else?”

  “That’s it really.”

  “Great. This is going to be fun! Why don’t you take care of payment at the desk and I’ll grab us a bag for the room?”

  I didn’t bother taking any toys with us. It sounded like we were going to mostly be using our imaginations. I grabbed some spare towels and a gaudy fake jewel necklace from the cross-dresser props closet.

  We played in the lounge, which reminded me of a Victorian sitting room. It was decorated tastefully with lush furniture and lots of lace.

  Ethan had me lie on a chaise longue, the reason he had selected the room, and took me through some breathing and relaxation exercises. His voice was soothing and I found myself relaxed and hanging on his every word. He had me sit in peaceful silence for several moments that felt much longer because of the quiet. Just when I started to get twitchy, he got serious and talked me through the hypnosis he was attempting. I really wasn’t sure whether he wanted me to fake it or not since I was pretty positive I would not be entirely under his control. I wished I had asked him in the interview. But if he wanted me to fake it, then spelling out that I was going to fake it in the interview might have killed it for him because he would’ve known I was faking it … so maybe it was better we didn’t discuss it. I decided I would fake it, but not overdo it. I thought seeming pliable and out of it, but not zombie-hypnotized would be a good middle ground.

  He snapped his fingers and I remained motionless.

  “Scarlett, I want you to tap your nose with your finger.”

  Slowly, as though I was doing it in my sleep, I raised my right hand and touched my nose.

  I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Good. Now stick your tongue out and pant like a dog.”

  I complied and kept going until he said, “Stop panting and close your mouth.”

  I did exactly as he said, which meant my tongue was still sticking out. He laughed and said, “Put your tongue back in your mouth.

  “Now that I have you under my control, I want you to open your eyes, take this necklace from me, and put it on.”

  I did as he said, and as I dropped the necklace around my shoulders, I gave an exaggerated jolt and kept my eyes unfocused and staring into the distance.

  “Good. Very good. You’re under my spell now.”

  From the way he said it, I pictured him stroking a wizard beard.

  The rest of our session wasn’t particularly eventful. Under his “control,” I barked like a dog, jogged in place, spun in circles, and then essentially gave him a lap dance. I kept it pretty tame, but he seemed to enjoy the session overall. What was remarkable about it is that I found I had enjoyed it too. It was mostly silly and harmless, but it was his fantasy and I was able to let him live it in a way that he had never been able to before. There was an adrenaline rush that came with that knowledge that sent me back from my scene giddy and feeling much better about working at the Dungeon.

  When I walked back through the lobby, there were three younger guys huddled together in front of the desk, stealing surreptitious glances at the photos on the wall. One of them was holding a pizza, and Lady Caterina seemed to be ignoring them. I found Raven dumping a bag full of women’s clothing into the washing machine and asked her what the deal was.

  “Ha! Delivery guys. One of them must have told their buddies about what they saw when they came in here, so this time three of them showed up to take a look. Cat lets them get away with it, but the first time they pull that shit when Viv is at the desk, they’re going to feel the wrath!”

  12. ALEX

  “Alex is the perfect training tool beca
use he’s so extreme,” explained Raven when she came out to bring me into the room with him. Alex was the youngest of thirteen in a strict Mormon family. He was still part of the church, but had accepted the fact that he needed a release for his thoughts or he was never going to be able to play the part his community expected of him. His mother had run a fastidiously clean household. I suppose with thirteen children, it would have to fall under one extreme or the other. He wasn’t sure if it was related to how manic she had been about cleanliness, but Alex was turned on by anything and everything disgusting, along with corporal punishment. He came to the Dungeon, got his fix of gross, and went back to living a quiet existence as a good Mormon. He evidently played in multiple-hour increments, so Raven had been in the session already for about an hour and a half and was letting me shadow for the last half hour.

  “He’s a masochist and loves all the classic implements and forms of pain: spanking, flogging, caning … you name it! He loves CBT—”

  “Cognitive behavioral therapy?”

  “Cock and ball torture.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah, he’s into some heavy, heavy stuff. But the other side of his sessions is that he’s turned on by being made to do things that are disgusting. Like the nastiest thing you can think of—within the rules of the Dungeon—and he’ll be excited. Spit on the floor and make him lick it up. Lick your boots clean. If you can come up with something none of us have ever thought of before, then you, my dear, are both a monster and a genius!”

  “Challenge accepted!”

  She opened the door to the cave and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. This room would become one of my favorites. Everything about it was pleasingly dark and menacing. It looked like a satanic cult had decorated it. Standing in the center, all of the surroundings were black and red, the colors of secrets and sex.

  Alex was naked and on his knees facing the door with a blindfold on, our sacrificial victim. His head jerked in acknowledgment of our presence in the room, but beyond that he remained motionless, hands folded neatly in his lap. Raven gestured for me to stand directly behind him while she paced circles around him, the clicking of her heels on the floor echoing in the silence.

  “You’re a spoiled slave, Alex. I’ve brought a gorgeous new Mistress to play with you. I’ve told her how well-behaved you are, so you better not let me down.”

  “I won’t, Goddess. Thank you, Goddess!”

  His voice was soft and wavered slightly. It could have been excitement or nerves.

  “Get on all fours, slave. You don’t get to see your new Mistress until you’ve proven you’re worthy of her.”

  Raven smirked and stood next to me, inclining her head toward his genitals in invitation. I looked back at her with confusion, unclear about what she wanted me to do. She grinned. And kicked his dangling balls with considerable force. He groaned and arched his back, but quickly returned to his original posture, presenting the family jewels for more punishment.

  Was I actually going to do this?

  I had been taught my whole life that you didn’t mess with a man’s junk. It was unforgivable territory.

  Fuck it.

  I gave him what I thought was a pretty good kick, barely overcoming the urge to apologize immediately afterward. He hardly flinched, so Raven rolled her eyes and raised an eyebrow at me in challenge.

  I tried again and managed a much harder blow. Alex’s groan was thrilling. Raven stepped back and gestured with her hand toward him as though to say, he’s all yours. Instead of one kick at a time, I got my balance and kicked him over and over this time, not giving him a chance to rest in between. His groans turned to shouts, but he continued to present himself like a good slave.

  When I paused he panted, “Mmmm, thank you, Mistress.”

  I had just kicked a guy in the balls. Fucking hard. And he had thanked me for it.

  “Good boy, slave.”

  Raven lifted his blindfold and we made eye contact for the first time. It was short lived. Raven kicked him in the balls again and said, “That’s enough, greedy slave. Get those eyes back on the floor!”

  She dragged him by the collar over to what looked like a large black torture table and had him bend over. Upon the table, she had spread out a daunting assortment of implements.

  “I thought we could let you experiment a bit since Alex is just a worthless little shit and it really doesn’t matter if you fuck up and maim him. In fact, he might please me more if you maimed him. Maybe we’ll move left to right … we’ll start with a good sturdy paddle, then the riding crop, a nice whippy cane, and then if we have time we’ll move to electro-play.

  “He’s already warmed up, so you can jump right in. With the paddle, you mostly want to smack him on the fleshy bits of the backside, staying below the peak so you don’t hit organs or tailbone. There’s a sort of looseness to the wrist that’ll let you get the best strokes. Just start playing with it. Like I said, he’s worthless, so it doesn’t really matter.”

  I could already see him tensing and knew what effect her words must be having.

  I struck him across the ass cheek with the paddle and it made a satisfying thwack. I kept smacking, experimenting with softer and heavier blows, learning what angle to hold it at to make different kinds of contact. I found myself naturally bracing his left leg with my own left, and I draped my left arm across his back like I was going to hold him down, but there was no need since he was staying perfectly still. Touching him let me be more in tune with his reactions as I learned to inflict pain, but it also gave me more precision when it came to my blows. I found this even more when I switched to the crop since it has such a small leather surface to flick against the skin, but its long, bendy wand let me crack it with force once I mastered the wrist movement involved. I was glad Raven had established ahead of time that I couldn’t really make a mistake because I missed my intended target a few times and managed to hit him partially with the handle and not just the leather head at the end. Each time I did this, Raven would simply laugh and say, “Get him good! Hit him with whatever part of that crop you want!”

  I flinched each time I made a mistake, so she could tell that correcting me wasn’t going to serve any purpose. It was confidence I needed, and she had enough to share.

  When I picked up the rattan cane, she stepped in to coach, swinging it up and down through the air rapidly, making a terrifying whooshing sound. I would come to learn that the unique noises that each implement made were a part of the overall sensory experience. Hearing the cane will send shivers through the sub who is about to be struck with it. Cracking a whip just a few inches shy of the skin can have a devastating effect.

  “Favorite punishment of British schoolboys!” she said with glee. “The tricky part to the cane is that it wraps even though it seems like it’s rigid and shouldn’t. Wrapping is when a flexible or soft implement wraps around the side of your sub when you strike your blow. I suppose you could do it on purpose, but it’s something you need to be aware of because by the time it wraps around to that skin, it has flicked with more force than your original intended blow and can break the sensitive skin on the sides or hurt bones like the hips or ribs. The flogger is the easiest to see it with, but the cane can do serious damage in the hands of an amateur who isn’t aware of it wrapping. Hear that, slave? Scarlett is going to pop her cane cherry on your ass.”

  The cane is a long, thin stick, but she explained that it’s the tip you want to focus on and aim with to avoid wrapping and to strike a straight blow. She demonstrated a few times and I didn’t really understand its power. Alex had barely flinched at anything so far, but each time the cane made contact, he expelled a breath with a hiss. I had just attempted a few erratic blows when the intercom crackled to life and Viv told us we had five minutes remaining.

  “We’ll continue this later. Lie on your back, slave, and get ready to lick the soles of Scarlett’s boots clean as a thank-you.”

  He practically jumped onto the floor and
stuck his tongue out eagerly. I placed my boot over his face and he started licking it with abandon.

  “As you lick that, you dirty boy, keep in mind that Scarlett walked through a big pile of shit outside before she came in here, so you’re getting dog shit all over your tongue. Was it even dog shit, Scarlett? Or did you have another slave shit and now he’s licking human feces off the bottom of your shoe?”

  “I had a big, fat slave drop a big one outside and then I ground it into the soles of my shoes. Make sure you get all the little bits that are trapped in the cracks. All of that shit belongs on your tongue, you disgusting little worm.”

  I was a little surprised to hear what was coming out of my mouth, but Alex was writhing in excitement now and rubbing his dick frantically. Instinct took over and I carefully adjusted my standing foot to be over his balls and pressed down with my toes. This meant I had to lean my other shoe on his face slightly to balance better, but the added pressure excited him more. I crushed his balls even harder and it was too much excitement for him. I didn’t think quickly enough and part of his splooge landed on my boot. At first I was appalled, but the answer seemed obvious. I held it over his mouth and said, “You’ve defiled my boot, slave. Now lick it clean.”

  After the session had ended and the door closed behind Alex, Raven tossed me gloves and sanitizer and said, “You, darling, are a natural.”

  She sent me home with a mountain of implements and the homework assignment that I would try them out during my next few days off. I just didn’t know who I was going to try them on. I couldn’t exactly see Amelia volunteering. Maybe if I let her try them on me first …

  13. VANCE

  I was still smiling to myself about my crazy shift at the Dungeon by the time I got to work at the jobsite the next morning. I had a secret. Which made me wonder … who else here had one too? People who I would have overlooked entirely in the past were suddenly making me look again. So far, the biggest freaks had been the totally normal-looking ones—the quiet, unassuming guys who looked as likely to be coaching a T-ball team as begging me to kick them in the balls.