Read Out of the Dungeon Online
Authors: SM Johnson
Tags: #bdsm, #glbt erotica, #erotica gay, #above the dungeon, #sm johnson
Out of the Dungeon
Out of the Dungeon
SM Johnson
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 SM Johnson
Discover other titles by SM Johnson at
Smashwords.com
DeVante's
Coven
,
My Fifteen
Minutes
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Table of Contents
I
t was one those
mornings so clear and sweet that the perfection of being outside
pierced my soul. The kind of morning that made me glad to be alive
and part of the world. The breeze was fresh, the sun rising into a
golden sky that promised a rich, warm afternoon.
We started early on Friday so we could leave
early and jump-start the weekend.
Friday used to be my favorite day of the week
and for a moment I could almost feel it, the sweet anticipation of
freedom. But I was already dreading the many hurts and perceived
slights I would suffer during the next three days. I dreaded the
weekend so much that a terrifying thought lanced into me like a
stab wound.
I can't do this anymore.
I winced when I couldn't get the thought out
of my head. If I said it to myself, I would have to say it to
Roman. Transparency, truth, and trust. Telling Roman would change
my life in too many ways to count. A dozen years tumbling down,
swirling into dust at our feet.
I told myself it was just one of my dramatic
flights of fancy, and could be stuffed back inside my heart.
Hidden, the way one hides a lie.
The truth hated the lie, and wanted to burst
free, the way we fly out of the office on Friday afternoons. The
truth wanted – no, begged – to explode, to spray everyone with the
putrid green tinge of jealousy that colors my whole life.
But the contract doesn't allow jealousy.
And I don't know how to live without the
contract.
O
n Thursday night,
Dare accompanied Roman and Jeff to a private dungeon party for the
most elite and beautiful Dominants and their most cherished
submissives. It was a party for beautiful people. The Doms and
Dommes were in leather finery, subtle and strong, scary in the
arrogant way that Dominants can be. The "darlings," as their
hostess referred to the subs, were cherubs in angel wings and high
heels.
The costumes horrified Dare. The idea of
being taken away and dressed in feather wings and heels was
mortifying. But, as usual, a few words of reassurance from Roman
had Dare trotting after a scary leather Domme who promised to make
an angel of him.
She pulled his shirt over his head and helped
him shrug into elastic straps that held white feather wings on his
back like a rucksack. Then she presented him with oversized white
heels. "Finish undressing and put these on," she said, and left him
to manage it.
Dare undressed, tucking his briefs into a
pocket of his pants before folding them. The woman had left his
shirt on the floor, and he picked it up and folded it. He rolled
his socks together and set the whole neat bundle against the
wall.
He looked at the shoes. Sighed. But then he
jammed one foot into one shoe, then wobbled and almost fell trying
to slide into the other one. He felt stupid. Another try, and it
was done, and he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the
other trying to find his balance.
The wicked Domme returned, holding a length
of white satin ribbon with bells attached to each end. "How are the
shoes?" she asked.
"Weird," Dare said. He'd been dreading the
whole evening, and now that it was here, he wasn't dreading it any
less. He'd only agreed to come because Jeff was totally enthused
about the whole thing, and there was a competitive part of Dare
that always worked hard to measure up to Jeff.
The woman draped the ribbon around the base
of Dare's cock. "A present to Roman," she said.
Dare wondered how ridiculous this was going
to get, but the ribbon was smooth, and her hands stroked him with
cool, quick movements, and his body had no trouble responding.
She wound the ribbon until his cock was
encased. She tied the ends together in a tight little knot at the
top of his cock, then bade him to practice walking.
The bells jingled with every step. It was the
little humiliating things that killed Dare, made him wonder what
the hell he was doing involved in such crazy shit. Little things
that made him feel less enchanted with the whole scene.
But. There were things Roman did purely to
foster his presence in the community, events that were socially
obligatory, like attendance currency. If Roman asked people to come
to his dungeon parties, he was sometimes obliged to attend theirs,
even if their brand of S&M was wildly different.
This was definitely different. There was no
dressing up in flouncy drag to amuse Roman in regular, daily life.
And thank God for that. There were, of course, mundane daily
chores, mostly carried out by Jeff, and tasks that were performed
purely for Roman's comfort because he was the Master.
Jeff cooked, paid the bills, and took care of
the dry cleaning. Jeff kept track of Roman's schedule, and Dare's
now, too, and he did it all with a quiet sense of contentment and a
hard cock. Dare cleaned up after supper, and he might rub Roman's
shoulders, or his feet, or polish his Master's boots. But mostly
Dare was invited to spend the night when Roman wanted to play.
Roman in leather was Roman in full Dominant
mode, and Jeff and Dare would perform at Roman's cue for Roman's
pleasure. Live pornography at its best. Dare preferred alone time
with Roman, but had grown fond of Jeff during the past few months,
and they were able to turn each other on, no problem.
Dare usually got to top Jeff, which he much
preferred. Jeff was about as campy and Nellie as a faggot could be,
and found it sublime to offer his submission, even to Dare, out of
love for Roman. That Roman paid attention, directed and controlled,
was in itself a turn-on.
Dare was still on the fence about the whole
BDSM thing. He liked the idea that he was adventurous, that no one
from his old life would ever understand or even want to understand
what all this was about. Dare could never explain to anyone from
his old life what happened to the inside of his head when he was
paddled or spanked until he cried. That there came a point when he
rose above the pain of it and floated away from everything negative
about being human, hanging in a suspended animation in which the
world and everyone and everything in it was perfect.
The rest of it, the "lifestyle," as so many
called it, was not very significant to Dare. He didn't need to hang
out and talk about this stuff all the time, didn't need to live
daily under the micromanagement of a Master. Dare could have lived
the whole of his life without ever jamming his feet into white
high-heels and having his cock entwined with ribbons and bells.
"Swing your hips more," commanded the
velvet-wrapped-steel voice of the wicked Domme.
Dare sighed again and let his hips sway
side-to-side in the exaggerated manner of a runway walker.
When the wicked Domme felt Dare had practiced
walking and jingling enough, she led him back into the room where
the party was happening. Jeff was prancing and performing for the
room, dark blue eyes flashing merrily, and bells jingling. The
silly grin on his face was quite possibly a reflection of how much
alcohol he'd already consumed.
Dare stopped a foot over the threshold to
observe. Jeff's shaved head was due for maintenance, because his
hair had grown into soft brown velvet that felt good against Dare's
skin.
"How about the Limbo?" Jeff asked. "Can we
find a broom and some music?"
Dare groaned. Who does the limbo? Hadn't they
all outgrown this kind of thing? But no, the hostess invited Jeff
to investigate the stereo system and went off to find a broom.
Dare tottered in his high heels over to
Roman. "How long do we have to stay here? I hate this."
Roman swatted at Dare's penis and made the
bells jingle. "Nice duds," he said. "Love the wings. Maybe I should
buy the outfit and set you up to dance on the bar."
"Not funny, Roman. Leave the silliness to the
younger boys. They like it."
"They like the tips at least," Roman said,
then winked. He offered his fresh drink to Dare. "Liquid
courage."
Dare accepted the drink and sucked it down
fast. Funny how Jeff's shaved head was submissive, but Roman's just
another part of his Dom persona. Like the leather vest, jeans, and
black boots. Roman didn't allow his hair to grow into velvet,
though sometimes Dare wondered if doing so would create a softer
Roman. He laughed at himself. No. A soft man wouldn't suffer a
tribal tattoo that started just under his jaw bone, climbed around
his left ear, then stretched into a curve around his skull.
Their hostess returned. "All right angels,
let's get this party started!"
"If I were you," Roman said, his hazel eyes
gleaming almost gold, "I'd volunteer to hold the broom."
Dare sighed, but Roman was right. Holding an
end of the broom seemed like the least humiliating way to
participate. The music came up loud, and it was some horrible
Kei$ha-styled song, the kind of thing that Dare hated and Jeff
loved.
Dare approached the hostess and grabbed for
the broom handle. He twisted off the part with the bristles to make
it a limbo bar. He offered an end to the hostess, and she took it.
Jeff came first, eyes flashing, hips swinging with the exaggeration
provided by wearing heels. "I looooove the limbo," he said, as he
arched his back and slipped beneath the broom handle.
"Of course you do," Dare laughed, and let go
of his grumpy mood as the rest of the angels arched and dipped in
turn.
When the bar was lowered to waist height,
Roman came over and turned Dare so he was facing the hostess, who
was holding the other end of the broom. Roman said, "Keep the broom
handle at your waist and spread your legs wider each round to lower
it.
Dare did as Roman said, but his balance was
awkward in high heels, and he swayed a bit. Roman's arms came
around Dare from behind and grasped each nipple in a hard pinch.
The pain shocked a noise out of Dare. Roman prolonged the pinch
until Dare groaned. The limbo dancers were down to two, Jeff and a
slave Dare didn't know the name of. One of Roman's hands wandered
between Dare's legs and bumped his cock, making the bells chime.
Dare squirmed.
Roman's hand traced along Dare's hip, then
his ass, and settled between Dare's legs, cradling his ball sac.
Roman rubbed and pulled and pinched until Dare was so aroused he
thought he would explode. The muscles of his spread thighs
twitched.
Jeff was watching, and he bumped the limbo
bar on the next round, ending the game. The hostess declared the
other angel the winner, and that was that.
"All right angels, check in with your Masters
and see if they need their drinks freshened."
"Do you need your drink freshened?" Dare
gasped, as Jeff , glassy-eyed, came and knelt at Roman's side.
