Out of the Dungeon (3 page)

Jeff capitulated everything. His every dream,
every desire, tied to Roman's will. Roman's pleasure. Everything in
the name of serving Roman.

Pressure brought him back to the moment.

"Take a deep breath and stay with me," Roman
said. "You can do it. Deep breath in. Long exhale."

Dare obeyed.

The next globe slid home, and without pause
for breath or comfort, Roman was coaxing Dare to take another.

Dare felt hot all over and broke out in a
sweat, his hair becoming damp and his cock stone hard.

Roman rested one hand on the flat of Dare's
belly, and Dare was panting again. He collected himself and pushed
back against the thing, and felt a shuddering triumph when it was
done.

"Good boy," Roman said, and tugged gently on
the ringed handle, sending a shock from Dare's ass to the pit of
his stomach. Roman stroked Dare's limbs, then let his hands linger
over Dare's prick.

Dare remembered he was supposed to be jacking
himself off, but at some point he'd given up, too stimulated, too
intense, and his hands were now clenched hard into the sheets
beneath him.

"Take a minute to relax and get used to it,"
Roman said. "I'll get you some water."

Water. Yes. Dare realized he was desperately
thirsty. Water sounded like the most wonderful thing in the
world.

D
are blinked a
couple of times, trying to adjust to consciousness, but it was the
smell of coffee that snapped his eyes open. He grabbed his phone to
check to time – it was early, not even eight o'clock. He was
supposed to make the coffee and deliver it to Roman in bed. It was
ritual, expected. It was one his simpler tasks, one that didn't
require him to be immersed in submission. And it was pleasant
because Roman was easy to be with when he was drowsy and
content.

Roman wasn't always easy. But coffee mornings
had the potential for hours of gentle teasing and unfettered sex.
Dare looked forward to spending time with Roman that wasn't
complicated. Uncomplicated moments were rare, and so they developed
a special significance. Like bronzing baby shoes, or putting
mementos into a keepsake box.

Jeff left for work early on Fridays, and
sometimes Dare had Roman to himself for half the day. And however
unfair it was, Dare looked forward to it. The complications of this
three-way love affair were getting tiresome. There just wasn't
enough of Roman to ever keep either Jeff or Dare content sharing
his affection. Dare thought he and Jeff were like children vying
for the attention of a parent. Sibling rivalry to the extreme.

The rivalry caused Dare to consent to new
experiences faster than he would otherwise, and hold his tongue and
choke back his safe word, in some asinine attempt compete with
Jeff's ability to be the perfect submissive. It was stupid on
Dare's part because Jeff and Roman had been together for a dozen
years. Roman was Jeff's perfect Master, and Jeff was Roman's
perfect slave because they had grown into Dominance and submission
together. Between them, over a period of years, they defined what
their personal D/s looked like and how it worked. There wasn't a
chance in hell that Dare could compete with that.

At the beginning, when the whole scene was
new to Dare, he'd teased Jeff about being the perfect urban
housewife. Jeff was forever running around the apartment, sorting
mail, picking stuff up and putting it away, cooking their meals,
cleaning up. Taking the garbage out. Scrubbing toilets. Jeff kept
the apartment spotless, and all while sporting an impressive
erection. Hell, he probably fantasized about organizing
closets.

Dare allowed Roman to coax him well beyond
his comfort zone, and it was erotic, but unloading the dishwasher
would never be a turn on. Bringing the coffee was about as much
servitude as Dare could stand.

Jeff had declared early on that Dare was a
bottom, not a slave. And Dare agreed. He still basically lived with
his cousin, and if he failed to stay hard while unloading Roman's
dishwasher, he didn't internalize it or consider it a failure. He'd
known from the beginning that he had no desire to live as a slave
like Jeff.

Dare knew he frustrated Roman with
non-compliance, but it wasn't on purpose. What Roman had with Jeff
was unusual, lucky, maybe, the perfect Master/slave complement that
fulfilled the desires of both. It was no wonder their relationship
stayed strong over the years, even though Jeff loved being in love
and sometimes had a wandering eye. It was pretty obvious that Roman
had been counting on Jeff's next love affair being Dare. But it
wasn't happening. Jeff and Dare didn't have the spark required for
romance. Dare was an interloper in this relationship, a sharp,
painful point of the triangle, the member of the triad who's very
presence jabbed Jeff and caused him constant pain.

Roman acted like he didn't realize that Jeff
was unhappy, though Dare couldn't fathom that. A huge part of
Roman's BDSM was his ability to pay attention. But it didn't
matter, because Dare had already made the decision to walk away.
Roman and Jeff had been happy together for a dozen years. Whether
Roman loved Dare, or Dare maybe loved Roman, didn't figure into the
equation. It was unfair for Jeff to give up personal autonomy and
independence and then be forced into a polyamorous relationship
that he didn't want. Dare and Roman were an interlude, not a
lifetime connection, and Dare didn't want to be the end of Roman
and Jeff. It was just a matter of having the conversation. Growing
a set of balls and saying the words out loud.

But leaving Roman wasn't going to be easy. On
Sunday they would have their family meeting, the opportunity to
speak candidly about activities, playtime, life, and this bizarre
relationship. Dare planned to tell Roman and Jeff that he wanted to
back off. He had job interviews lined up, and he needed to focus on
himself.

But first he wanted to enjoy this last little
time with Roman, and he refused to feel guilty about it.

Dare smiled to himself thinking about his
punishment last night.

The things Roman could put him through were
astounding. Sometimes the psychological build up was nearly as
orgasm-inducing as the physical sensation.

Dare had managed to accept the whole of the
toy, and there had been difficult moments, moments where it took
everything he had to withstand the stretch and burn.

And taking all ten globes wasn't enough, oh
no. Dare felt himself harden as he remembered and allowed himself
to be transported back to the challenge.

They had shifted on the bed so Dare was lying
across Roman's lap, ready for a paddling, telling himself that he
was ready for blows from the punishment brush, reminding himself
that there was no reason to be afraid, because Roman would help him
through it.

Roman spanked him a few times with his bare
hands, hard slaps that stung the flesh and made Dare press his lips
together to stop himself from crying out.

And Roman had grabbed the ringed end of the
toy and he'd shifted it, and Dare did cry out then, because the toy
was flexible, and yet rigid, and it moved inside Dare in a
completely unfamiliar way. Dare had gasped, then groaned, and Roman
had chuckled. "Oh, you thought it would get easy now?"

Dare writhed and gasped for breath, unsure if
Roman expected an actual answer.

"I want you to release them," Roman had said.
"Push them out. It's going to be hard, and you're going to have to
work at it."

Releasing was harder than accepting. Dare
didn't know why, because that didn't make any sense, seemed like
out would be easier than in, but again, maybe it was the active
part of the process that made it hard. Or it was using his private
muscles on Roman's command, in Roman's view. Whatever it was,
releasing the largest two globes was mortifying, and Dare pumped
his hips and grunted to get it done.

"That's enough," Roman said. "Just the
largest two." He let Dare rest for all of a minute, petting him and
murmuring soft words. "Now take them in again," and the pressure
was back, and Roman's expectation, and Dare had to capitulate all
over again. He felt like his body was on fire, embarrassed that he
was obedient to this, ashamed that he'd given permission for this
punishment.

"Again," Roman said, and tugged at the
handle, and Dare stifled a sob as he worked to expel the two
globes, because he felt so vulnerable, as if his every nerve ending
and his every secret shame were exposed to Roman.

And perhaps they were. "I'm going to press
them back in. And you're going to take them."

Roman made it happen, and Dare was exhausted.
"Remember that you could have avoided all of this, if had obeyed my
instructions to wear the jewel."

"Yes, sir," Roman answered, the only answer
there was to give. If he'd been properly attired, he would have
been able to ease the egg attached to the jewel in and out of
himself a couple times a day, and Roman might have considered that
enough anal training for now.

After some comfort and petting, it was time
for the actual punishment, by the short, mean bristles of the
punishment brush. Dare was still lying across Roman's hips and
groin.

"Do you think I should punish you for the
number of hours you disobeyed me, or for the number of days?"

Dare tried to calculate how many hours versus
how many days. Was it a trick question? It had certainly been two
days and then some. Too many hours. Forty eight hits with the
punishment brush would leave him bloody and scarred. Roman wouldn't
do that, would he? No, Dare was sure he wouldn't. So what was the
right answer? What would Jeff say? And as soon as he thought that,
he knew.

"Whichever pleases you, sir."

Roman chuckled. "Good answer, my pet. Two
strikes for each day."

Dare held his breath.

"Two on each cheek, and you're going to feel
them at least until Tuesday."

The first blow almost shocked him out of his
skin. The pain was indescribable, and not in a good way like pain
can sometimes be.

Dare had met the dreaded brush before, but
never when his nerve endings were this raw.

The second strike made him let out a short
shriek, and he even struggled a little bit, as if he hadn't put
himself into position purely by his own will.

He was breathing heavy, and the heat from his
buttocks traveled in a wave through his whole body. Sweat ran down
his face and back.

He took a deep breath and held it, preparing
for the next one.

"Breathe," Roman said. "You know how to do
this."

Yes, Dare knew how to do this. Roman had
taught him well.

He exhaled long and slow, and inhaled deeply.
Exhaled again.

The slam of the brush came and he cried out,
and Roman's warm hands brushed over the soreness. And then it came
one more time.

Dare let out little panting sobs, relieved
that the worst was over. He was punished, and he was absolved.

Roman stroked him gently, then patted the
cool, smooth backside of the brush against Dare's skin. "You do
this well, you know," Roman said. "Almost makes me wonder if you
disobey on purpose, wondering how long it will take me to notice,
and how harsh a punishment I'm willing to give you. But it's never
more than you can handle, is it?"

"No," Dare said, calm enough to find his
voice. "But that party tonight…" he shuddered. "I hate feeling
silly like that."

"Our attendance was an obligation. And Jeff
likes the costuming and the games. He is very serious in his role
on a daily basis. It's only fair to give him playtime now and
again. It takes a certain balance to keep everyone happy, and we'll
find it."

"Will we?"

"Of course."

The pats from the back of the brush were
getting firmer as Roman spoke. Dare had a momentary worry that his
skin couldn't take it. But the pulse of his rigid cock reminded him
to stop worrying and trust Roman.

The sound of Roman's ringing cell phone
snapped Dare out of his reverie. Who would be calling Roman at this
time of the morning?

R
oman's phone rang.
It was early in the day for anyone to be calling about business,
and when he picked it up and looked at the screen he didn't
recognize the number, so he ignored it. Whoever it was could leave
a voicemail.

Five minutes later Roman heard Dare's phone
in the bedroom ringing. Dare was still in bed. Roman went to the
doorway and watched Dare look at the phone. Then Dare looked at
Roman, shrugged, and answered.

"Hello? What? Yeah, I know him. Yeah. What?
Fuck." Roman watched all the color drain out of Dare's face. "Let
me give you to Roman," Dare said. To Roman, he said, "It's St.
Anne's Medical Center. Jeff's been in an accident," and passed the
phone over.

Roman's brain went on freeze. He took the
phone from Dare. "This is Roman," he said, and then he listened,
hardly able to believe what he was hearing. The voice was talking,
verifying that Roman was Jeff's emergency contact, and Roman
realized that he was nodding, but not speaking.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, yes. I'm his
partner."

He listened more. Jeff was in critical
condition in the ICU. Roman heard 'broken neck,' and then nothing
else as he tried to absorb the implications. It felt surreal. This
couldn't be happening. Not to Jeff, who ran their lives with such
careful attention to every detail.

Roman agreed to come to the hospital as soon
as he could get there. Handed the phone to Dare, and, unimaginably,
felt his eyes water. "We have to go," he managed to say.

Dare asked, "What is it? What's wrong with
Jeff?"

Roman turned his back and held up a hand.
Talk to the hand,
he thought, which was stupid and rude. But
still. He needed a minute.