The Darker Side of Pleasure

by Eden Bradley

  She was excited even before the first small slap landed. But at that first stinging contact her sex convulsed and she was instantly soaking wet.

  Cam smacked her again, harder this time, and she absorbed the sharp thrum of it. She wanted him to do it harder.

  He began a series of slaps, playing them over first one cheek, and then the other. The blood rushed to the surface of her skin, which grew hot and tingling. He sped up his rhythm, spanking harder, and she squirmed her hips as pleasure poured through her. She pressed her breasts into the cool glass surface of her desk, needing to rub her full, aching nipples against something. And still, Cam’s blows landed on her smarting ass, one after another.

  When she thought she couldn’t stand not to be touched anymore, he pulled the small scrap of her G-string aside and pushed a few fingers into her. God, it felt good! She moved back against him, trying to take more inside.

  And still he kept working on her ass and down the back of her thighs, the slaps coming harder and harder, his fingers thrusting inside her. And then he stopped.

  “Cam,” she breathed.

  “Wait,” he commanded.

  She spent one long, panting moment while she heard him unzip his pants. Then the head of his engorged cock was rubbing up against her swollen lips.

  “Spread your legs apart for me.”

  She did as he asked. And then his cock slipped inside, and with one hard thrust, he shoved it all the way to the hilt.

  She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. He was so damn big and it hurt. But it also felt so damn good. She moved against him, wanting more, no matter how hard it was to take.

  Cam moved inside her, sliding in and out. The walls of her sex clenched around the heavy length of him. She could feel every ridge of his shaft, every delicious detail of him. And each thrust brought an exquisite pang of painful pleasure.

  Cam threaded a hand in her hair and gripped hard, kept on spanking her with the other. She loved the feel of his hand in her hair. Loved the way he held her head so tightly, so possessively. And all the while his enormous cock filling her to the brim, pushing and pulling at her insides. At this angle, the head of his cock had full access to her g-spot, rubbing right against it. That and his hard, fast slaps were creating an incredible combination of sensations. Her ass burned, her sex burned. The two sensations joined together, fused, set her body on fire.

  The first tremors of orgasm shook her system. And when Cam started plunging into her wildly, then sunk his teeth into the back of her neck, it sent her right over the edge. Her sex exploded with searing heat, the shockwaves roaring through her body. She cried out. Cam growled in her ear, and she felt the hot spurt of his come inside her.

  His big body collapsed on top of her, and only the desk supported her quaking legs.

  “God, that was fucking fantastic, baby.” Cam’s breath was coming in short pants.

  “Mmm.” Her mind was still numb and her body hummed with the aftermath of pleasure.

  Cam levered himself off her, helped her over to the sofa. They lounged there, with her draped across his lap, catching their breath.

  “So, honey,” Cam said after several minutes.

  “Hmmm, what?”

  “I had a thought.”

  “About what?”

  “I found this place on the Internet. It’s a place where people go to play. A dungeon.”

  Jillian laughed. “A dungeon? They really call it that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So they have rooms with what…racks and chains and stuff?”

  “Yeah, sort of. From what I could see, it’s just one big room.”

  “You mean there’s no privacy?” Jillian didn’t think she liked the sound of this.

  “There are different areas where people play. And other people watch. I’d really like to go. For us both to go.”

  “I don’t know, Cam. It all sounds pretty serious to me.”

  “It might be interesting. To watch what other people do, you know?”

  “I don’t need to see other people having sex.” She wasn’t liking this at all.

  “It’s not sex. They don’t do that there. It’s just bondage, BDSM play.”

  Well, that was a little better. Maybe. But she still didn’t like the idea of taking it that far. BDSM was just something they were playing around with, wasn’t it?

  “I still don’t know, Cam.”

  “Just think about it, okay? For me?”

  She sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good girl.”

  For once, those words did nothing to warm her.

  A busy week passed quickly, but when Friday night came, Cam brought up the dungeon again while they were finishing a late dinner at the small table in the kitchen.

  “There’s a discussion group tomorrow night I’d like to go to,” he said nonchalantly, draining his wineglass.

  “What kind of discussion group?”

  “It’s at that dungeon I told you about.”

  Jillian’s stomach tightened. “Oh.” She paused. “Cam, I don’t think we’re ready for this.”

  “I’m ready for it. Look, it’s just a discussion group. Nobody will be playing or anything. Come on, baby. I really want to do this.”

  Obviously he did. But why was he pushing so hard? Was he beginning to become obsessed with this BDSM thing? Sure, she’d been enjoying it, but why did they have to get so extreme about it? She wasn’t sure she liked where Cam seemed to be going with this.

  She played with her fork, pushing the remains of her meal around on her plate. “I don’t know…”

  “Just give it a try. If you’re really uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Okay?”

  He sounded so reasonable, and he wasn’t leaving her much room for argument. As long as she had an out, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to just go and listen.

  “Okay.”

  Cam leaned over and gave her cheek a quick kiss. “You’re the best. I love you, Jillian.”

  She groaned. What in the world had she just agreed to?

  The place was called The Underground. True to its name, it was in the basement of an industrial building downtown. They parked, and Cam directed her to a dark purple door set into a long concrete wall. There was no sign saying what was behind that door. Just the door and a huge bouncer type of guy standing out front. Cam handed him an invitation he’d printed from the dungeon’s Web site, and the bouncer let them in. Not a word had been exchanged.

  “That was a little creepy,” Jillian whispered to Cam as he led her down an interior flight of concrete stairs.

  He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. They approached another pair of purple doors. Cam pulled a door open and music flooded out, the same light trance tones of Enigma she and Cam listened to while playing. Inside, the place was lit with dim red and purple lights. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. She was surprised to see that they were standing in front of a normal-looking reception desk. A plump woman in a red leather corset sat behind it. Jillian guessed her to be in her forties. She looked like she could be anybody. A teacher, a banker. Somebody’s mother.

  “Hi, there,” the woman said in a perky tone. “You must be here for the discussion group. Just go to the chairs at the back of the room and take a seat. Enjoy.” She smiled warmly.

  They passed behind the table and Jillian tried not to goggle at what she saw.

  The place was mostly empty, with just three men in black leather vests who seemed to be cleaning and testing equipment. Everywhere Jillian looked were giant wooden crosses, a pair of big, boxy wooden frames with eye hooks set into the tops and sides that she imagined were for some sort of bondage. There were several metal cages on the floor in various shapes and sizes. Long lengths of chain hung from the ceiling here and there, some with leather cuffs dangling from the ends. In different corners were benches and tables covered in what looked to be leather, or maybe vinyl. There were several items she couldn’t identify.

  The floor was covered in a dark
red carpet and the walls were painted black. As Cam led her across the center of the dungeon, Jillian felt incredibly vulnerable in this strange place.

  At the back of the room was a half-circle of folding chairs surrounding a low stage. Several people already sat there. One heavily carved wooden chair with a plush red velvet seat sat empty directly in front of the stage.

  “What do you think?” Cam asked her once they were seated.

  “It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “I think it’s awesome.”

  Obviously Cam wasn’t nervous about this at all. He was excited. She wished he wasn’t so into this. Just being here was making her feel shaky inside, an odd combination of nerves and what she could only identify as sexual excitement. She didn’t like that it excited her, but she couldn’t help it.

  More people filed in and filled up the remaining chairs. After a few minutes a couple stepped onto the stage and the music stopped. The sudden silence was a small shock in itself, leaving Jillian’s ear’s buzzing.

  The couple looked to be about her age. The man was tall and thin, with a dark, close-shaved goatee. The woman was tiny beside him. Her dark skin glowed beneath the stage lights. They were both dressed in black, with the man in dark jeans and a leather vest. The woman was dressed much as Jillian was, in a short black skirt and a lace top. But she wore a thick leather collar around her neck, set with metal rings, and boots that buckled all the way up to her knees, with such impossibly high heels Jillian wondered why she didn’t just topple over.

  The man came to the center of the stage and said in a deep, booming voice, “Welcome to our play space. Our learning space. Our place to explore ecstasy unknown in any other walk of life. Welcome to The Underground.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  CAM FELT JILLIAN SHIVER BESIDE HIM AS THE man onstage began to talk. He slid an arm around her shoulder and focused on the speaker.

  “I’m Vincent. This is my girl, my submissive, my slave, Nya.” The petite raven-haired beauty with the smooth coffee-colored skin nodded and smiled.

  Vincent stepped off the stage, then helped Nya to do the same. He settled into the big wooden chair. Nya knelt at his feet and he laid a hand on the back of her neck. It was a proprietary gesture, yet tender at the same time. It was something Cam understood very well, that feeling of treasuring his woman.

  Cam glanced at Jillian, but she sat quietly staring straight ahead, her face an unreadable mask. He turned back to tune in on the discussion.

  “Here at The Underground, we feel that submission is a gift given willingly and with love. It should be accepted as such. Our slaves and bottoms are to be played with, tortured, titillated, beaten, but always with love, and with their safety and well-being in mind.”

  Vincent spoke for a few minutes about the dungeon’s play party rules. All Cam could think about was getting started. Without being too obvious about it, he glimpsed some of the play equipment from the corners of his eyes. He could imagine strapping Jillian down to one of the leather-clad tables, cuffing her wrists and ankles to the corners.

  They didn’t allow sex at the club, so playing here would only be a prelude. Not a problem. He could control himself; he had no doubt of that. The self-control was part of it, and something he wanted to explore further. Since they’d always played in private so far, he’d never had to think about it much. This would be good for him, make him stronger.

  Vincent was still talking. “As a top, it is your responsibility to see to it that your sub is well cared for. Not only physically, but emotionally.”

  Cam liked that theory. Ever since Jillian had begun to submit to him sexually, he’d felt even more protective of her. She seemed somehow more precious to him than she had before. He was liking the whole idea better and better, and he hoped Jillian would learn to like it, too.

  Cam slipped an arm around Jillian’s slender waist and asked her quietly, “What do you think?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I mean, they sound very organized.”

  He nodded. “That was one of the things I liked about what I saw on the Web site. They seem to keep everything under control. I think that’s important. But I was talking more about the idea of playing here.”

  Jillian bit her lip. “I don’t know. It’s all so…strange to me.”

  “Yeah, me too, but that’s part of the attraction, I’ve got to admit.”

  Even during this quiet discussion, a sense of hushed expectancy filled the air. And the vibe was distinctly sexual. His pulse raced in his veins, his heart thudded in his chest. He loved it already.

  How the hell had Cam talked her into going to this? Jillian sucked in a long breath. Just being in the place made her feel shaky, but she had to admit it was a surge of sexual excitement as much as it was nerves.

  She scanned the faces of the other people there. She was surprised at how normal everyone looked. Some were dressed in black leather gear, but most were wearing casual street clothes, with the occasional collar around someone’s neck.

  She focused again on Vincent’s voice.

  “Tonight we’re going to talk about the psychology of BDSM. That’s right, the psychology. Because this lifestyle is about a lot more than just what we do physically. Most of it, in fact, is about what goes on in our heads.

  “A lot of people have trouble in the beginning accepting this side of themselves. Some of you are probably wondering how you can actually like pain, like having your power taken away from you. But the pain is pleasure, and as a bottom you don’t give anything without your consent. Therein lies your power. It’s the power to say yes or no. To give only what you want to give, and because you do give, it’s not taken away. There is power in the act of submission itself.”

  Jillian liked that idea. It was a conclusion she’d come to on her own, if not in such a formal manner.

  “Some of you may be wondering how you can possibly enjoy hurting anybody. But it’s fun.” His eyes twinkled and he grinned as most of the group laughed.

  “Again, the pain is pleasure. And it’s more than that, isn’t it?” He paused while a few people nodded in agreement. “It’s about the exchange of energy. We feed off it. It’s endorphins for the bottoms and adrenaline for the tops. It’s chemical. But it’s also largely mental. Let’s talk about that. Who wants to start?”

  A woman with long red hair raised her hand and Vincent nodded at her.

  “For me, a big part of it is the preparation. Bathing, making myself pretty. It puts me into that head space. And I can’t play without the head space. But the one thing that really puts me there is the collar. All a top has to do is put that collar around my neck and I start to go down. Down into sub space.”

  God, Jillian knew that feeling, understood exactly what she was talking about! Her body grew warm all over.

  The redhead went on. “It’s all about symbols for me. And there’s something about the formality of it that I love. The collar, the low lights, a commanding tone of voice. It feels…ancient, somehow. I get this feeling of participating in something very primal. Very deep. Does that make sense?”

  Jillian’s limbs went liquid and weak as several people nodded and murmured their agreement with the woman. Yes, she knew exactly what she meant. Maybe part of what frightened her about this was the sensation of falling into that head space, of being helpless against it. It didn’t feel safe to be that vulnerable in a public forum like The Underground. But maybe that was part of it, allowing herself to feel vulnerable.

  She spoke before she realized what she was doing. “But doesn’t that scare you?”

  Cam’s head whipped around to look at her, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Maybe. Yes.” The redheaded woman shrugged. “But overcoming fear is part of what this is about. For me, anyway.”

  Overcoming fear. Lord knew that was one thing Jillian needed to work on. Fear about her marriage, about her own body, about her capability to operate as the strong woman she’d always thought herself to be, and now spent so much time d
oubting.

  It had started when she lost the baby. After that, the whole world seemed unsafe. But she was beginning to regain a sense of safety. And it was through the BDSM play, because the only time she felt truly safe was in Cam’s arms, and even more so when she was bound in the ropes and at his command. When the responsibility for the world, for her own actions, was taken away from her. It was then that she could just be. It was then she could allow herself to feel, to be in the moment, without worrying she was going to break down. And even if she did, in those moments, Cam was totally in command, responsible for her. And she felt so utterly treasured by him, she knew he’d take care of her. Not that he hadn’t before. But within the BDSM play that surety came through in a way which was defined by the very roles they played. Maybe this was more than a temporary fix, after all?

  Her shoulders dropped. She hadn’t even realized how tightly she’d been holding them. She reached over and found Cam’s hand, wrapped her fingers around it. He smiled at her, that lush, beautiful mouth curving sweetly.

  The rest of the discussion passed in a sort of blur. She had so much to think about already. But she was feeling better, calmer. Yet excited at the same time. Even without anything more than discussion going on, a certain air of expectancy lingered in this place. Her gaze drifted to the play equipment set about the room.

  Maybe someday…

  Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get her husband home. Her sex grew damp and she pressed her thighs together.

  She didn’t want to think anymore. She just wanted to do. She wanted Cam to touch her, to tie her up, to spank her, to put the evil little clamps on her nipples, which were springing to attention just thinking about it.

  And someday, maybe, she wanted him to do those things to her here.

  Oh, God.

  Her panties were soaked. She had to leave, had to be alone with him.

  “Cam,” she whispered to her husband, “I need to go.”

  He looked at her, his smile fading. “Now?”