Dungeon Time (Play at Work)
Read Dungeon Time (Play at Work) Online
Authors: Kate Richards
Copyright 2013 by Kate Richards
Published by Kate Richards
Copyright 2013 Cover Art by Estrella Cover Art
Formatting Services by Wizards in Publishing
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Also by Kate Richards
Stories published at Decadent Publishing
At Musa Publishing
Coming Summer 2013
Eleven Years on from Musa Publishing
It’s Just Love from Beachwalk Press
Confessions from the Carnivore Club: Dave and Nancy’s Story
Dungeon Time
Play at Work – Book 2
By
Kate Richards
To the other independently published authors who have taken the chance and produced quality works, dispelling the myths and achieving success. Thanks for leading the way.
Readers of Spanking Ms. Whitman may notice our receptionist has changed from Angie to Anna. This is
a special favor for a dear friend who sees something of herself in each of my heroines, which is the highest tribute I could ever hope for
.
Edward Masters slid his card in the lock and waited for the light to flash green. Once the steel door clicked open, he strolled down the long hallway lined with framed photographs of club members, reflecting their particular tastes and interests. He paused by his own, depicting him sitting in an armchair with subbies kneeling on either side of him, their blonde ponytails twisted around his hands. Identical twins, sweet as candy and able to take more pain than any he’d dominated before or since. They’d thrived on it, begged for the kiss of the lash, the sting of the cane. Together, they’d given his nights meaning.
One
day, they’d left him.
They
’d wanted more—a permanent relationship—and his affection for them didn’t extend that far. So he’d bid them farewell, wished them happy lives, and grieved for three weeks before rejoining the scene. Last he’d heard, they were sharing a husband and had a kid apiece.
Perhaps he didn’t have the emotional depth for a married life with a family.
The interior door swung open to reveal maroon leather booths, a gray slate floor, and spotlights glinting off stainless shackles dangling from the walls. The usual techno beat thrummed low.
Only one of the suspension hooks overhead held a captive on this weekday night. The buxom redhead was twisted into a pretzel, her arms twined above her head, legs behind her back. Yet
Raquel hung as if she sat in a porch swing, drifting back and forth, eyes closed and a Mona Lisa smile on her beautiful lips. Collared slave to Master Eugene, and also his beloved wife, mother to his three beautiful girls. An ideal situation.
One he didn’t dare aspire to.
Although he’d begun to ache for the lack.
A serving sub in mini skirt and brown leather wrist cuffs scooted in front of him and knelt, head down, waiting for his attention. Her nipple piercings glinted. When he laid a hand on her soft
, black curls, she lifted her face.
“You may speak.”
“How may I serve you, Dom?”
“Tonic with lime.”
The girl bowed and scurried to the bar, and Edward continued on to his table.
Master Roland joined
him. “I hoped I’d catch you this evening.” The founding member rarely stopped to chat, rousing Edward’s curiosity.
Interesting.
At a soft gasp, Edward directed his attention to the small stage across the room where a stunning platinum blonde faced a St. Andrew’s cross shackled and spread-eagled. Naked, save for the lotion that sparkled on her skin under the lights.
A house sub pinned the girl’s long hair up, then turned and bowed in their direction.
“She’s ready for you, Master.”
Roland nodded. “A moment.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Edward couldn’t take his eyes off the smooth expanse of velvet skin
so enticingly displayed. If she’d ever been flogged, the straps had left no marks. He licked his lips and adjusted his hardening cock in his pants. “Yours?”
“Mine.” Roland glanced at the girl and back to Edward again. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Extraordinary.”
“
Brigid is somewhat new to the scene, but willing. Enthusiastic.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps too eager.”
Edward took in the curve of buttocks, her bunched tresses gleaming like satin. He itched to bury his fingers in their softness. Roland was a lucky man. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“As you know, I am married, with a wife who doesn’t want to play but allows me my recreation.”
“I understand, but how does that affect your taking on this particular sub?” The girl’s hands gripped the top of the cross. Her wide-parted thighs revealed her pink pussy, shiny with arousal. He’d be happy to satisfy her, but she belonged to Roland, who was not a good sharer.
“She’s too good, too special.” Roland let the thought hang while Edward processed it.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh. She is the first one in all the years I have been a Dom to threaten my marriage vows. Call it a midlife crisis, but Brigid may turn my head. When I fuck that cunt, I feel twenty again, capable of anything.”
“And what would you have me do?” Edward couldn’t tear his eyes from her, flexing on tiptoe. The house sub dipped her fingers into the blonde’s pussy and rubbed along her slit, making her writhe. Her whimpers carried to him, stirring his own desire.
“Take her off my hands. You’re single, and I think she may be the right girl for you, long term.” Roland pushed to his feet. “I know how you miss the twins. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Where are you going?”
Roland’s eyes twinkled. “To play her. I want you to see what you are considering, before you decide.”
“Then shouldn’t I be the one up there?”
He chuckled. “She’s not yours yet, man.” At the edge of the stage, he accepted a wicked black flogger from the handmaiden. Leaning in, he whispered something to Brigid, and she moaned and thrust her ass out.
A perfect sub.
Others were beginning to notice, the buzz of conversation diminishing.
The tails of the whip slapped her back, creating a pale pink pattern, like leafless winter branches over her shoulders.
Brigid cried out, her head falling back. She jerked, clutching the cross with tight fingers, the muscles in her legs straining. She couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three, but so ready for their games. Roland flogged her until her back shone fire-engine red, then stopped and dropped the implement to the stage floor.
“Turn her.”
Always a showman.
The sub released Brigid’s hands and feet and fastened her wrist cuffs to the cross again, supporting her shaky body. She was completely shaved or waxed, no hair anywhere below her neck. Nothing to distract from her perfect skin. When the sub nudged her legs wider and hooked the ankle cuffs to the bottom of the cross, Brigid’s slit gaped, a trickle of cream gliding down the inside of her thigh.
He forced his attention to her face. Delicate features, cornflower blue eyes framed by thick, blonde lashes. A pert, up-turned nose. His cock would penetrate her rosebud lips and fill her sweet, hot mouth. Would it be
all he imagined? Perhaps, after the scene, he would invite her under the table to find out. He couldn’t take her on without trying her out, after all.
On stage, Roland held up a pair of butterfly nipple clamps and shook them. A light chime rang. Oh, the bell type. How enjoyable. “Prepare her.”
Pinching and twisting, the handmaiden manipulated Brigid’s breasts until the nipples grew long and deep pink. She took each one in her mouth and worked it, back and forth, until Brigid shuddered, and the Master slapped the sub’s ass and called, “Enough.”
The last murmur of conversation in the club silenced, new blood on display holding everyone’s attention. A few of the men drew closer to the action, but the view from Edward’s table remained unblocked.
Fastening first one, then the other clip to the goddess’s tits with a cheerful jingle, the Dom attached them to a third in the middle and withdrew another butterfly clamp from his pocket.
The device caused great pain. Only the most depraved or experienced among them ever employed it in the genital area.
Interesting.
Roland played hard, but with care, always taking the subs to their limits. He stroked her, two fingers in her wetness, and she shivered, the bells on her nipples ringing out their merry sound. She jerked and whimpered.
The device disappeared
between her legs.
“Aaahh.”
Brigid’s breaths shortened, and she appeared distressed, but Roland knew her best.
What would he do next?
Roland bent close and whispered to her, and she nodded, sucking air between parted lips.
Neither patrons nor servers moved or spoke.
He pulled a black blindfold from his pocket and handed it to the sub, who tied it in place over Brigid’s wide blue eyes. Even more extreme. The clamps alone provided major stimulation; sensory deprivation could be too much.
Roland stroked
Brigid’s cheek and murmured to her. She moved her head against his palm. He kissed her. For a long moment, their mouths were joined, the girl straining at her bonds, the Master’s hands roaming her curves, until she squirmed under his touch.
Edward ached for the pair.
His friend had a wife and children, and the danger he’d spoken of, his strong feelings for Brigid, could well destroy his home life. But how could Edward take on a woman who so clearly loved someone else?
Ending the kiss, the Master straightened, leaving her gasping.
“Please, Master, please.”
“Please what,
Brigid?” Roland nuzzled her throat.
Her knees buckled, only the leather cuffs on her
wrists keeping her upright on the cross. “Please, may I come?”
Promising.
Roland faced the gathered members, smiling, back to his in-control self. “I will let you be the judges, my fellow Doms and Dommes. Shall she come?”
For a moment, Edward wondered if he’d imagined the connection, the love between the pair. But the tight lines around his friend’s eyes remained.
He’d known Roland a long time. Raw pain hid behind his smile.
