Rich Tapestry (8 page)

The dungeon
. Just the name is enough to send shivers down my spine. Incredibly, I’d prefer to head on up to wherever he intends to deliver my spanking than brave that place. The choice is not mine, though, and it never occurs to me to refuse as he opens a door at the end of the corridor and gestures for me to precede him. We descend a wide staircase, passing two other couples on their way out. The first pair—two men—is dressed entirely in leather. They are both wearing tight, black trousers, and one of them is bare-chested, his only other clothing—if you could rightly describe it as that—is a thick collar around his neck. His companion is wearing a studded waistcoat, open to display well developed pectorals. He’s leading the bare-chested man by a dog leash attached to a ring in his collar.

I manage not to stare but can’t entirely take the credit for my success. My attention is distracted by the outfit being worn—almost—by a young woman following them up the stairs, her Dom’s arm slung possessively across her shoulders. He’s smartly dressed in a sharp, dark gray suit, and wouldn’t look out of place in a bank or a solicitor’s office. She looks like something straight out of a baroque show. Her bright scarlet corset is laced at the front, but doesn’t cover her nipples. Her exposed breasts are criss-crossed by the lacing, which vaguely matches the fishnet pattern of her stockings. Her thong is narrow, cut away, and it’s clear that she’s shaved her pubic hair. She smiles up at her Dom as they pass us, clearly delighting in his company. As they ascend the stairs behind us, I can’t resist glancing back. I find the deep red stripes slicing across her pale buttocks both intensely shocking and deeply arousing. And, most unsettling of all, I’m impressed by the perfect symmetry of the marks. Her Dom has a very accurate eye.

I turn back to Dan to find him eying me in dry amusement. “Don’t look so worried, Summer. That’s not what I intend for you.”

“No? Thank God for that.” I hesitate then blurt out my confusion, “Christ, he’s really hurt her. But she seemed so—happy.”

“She
is
happy. She loves him. And he adores her. Steve and Georgia have been together a long time. He knows what she wants, what she needs. And she trusts him to deliver. That’s how a Dom/sub relationship works.”

He lets me consider that as he reaches around me to open the door at the foot of the stairs. “Ready?”

As I’ll ever be…
I nod and follow Dan into the dungeon.

My first impression is that it isn’t dark. Well, not very. I somehow expected a place not unlike a cave—or a torture chamber. I suppose this room bears a passing similarity. Some of the many and various pieces of apparatus ranged around the large space have a certain medieval quality to them, but the atmosphere is not oppressive or menacing. Couples and groups are sitting around, chatting, drinking, watching. Some are playing. There are lots of comfortable sofas strategically positioned to enable easy viewing or more secluded intimacy, if required. The light falls in pools, illuminating items of equipment in use, spotlighting the figures as their audience looks on.

My next impression is that I am dreadfully, painfully overdressed. All the other women here are either naked or as near as makes no appreciable difference, and here I am, in jeans and a vest top. Despite my killer heels, I’m the one out of place—I’m the one who stands out. And I’ve never liked standing out.

“Christ, I should have borrowed one of Freya’s outfits. She
did
offer…”

Dan loops an arm across my shoulders, a gesture I find both supportive and reassuring. “What are you wearing under your top?”

“What?”

“You could take your top off. And the jeans too, if you want. You’ll feel less conspicuous in your underwear. Keep the shoes though. I’m loving those.”

I glance around and can see immediately that he’s right. “Would anyone mind?”

Silly question and he responds accordingly with one raised eyebrow.

With no further ado, and before I can lose my nerve, I slip my vest over my head and reach to unbutton my jeans. Dan takes my vest from me, holding it while I push my jeans down and step out. I have to slip my gorgeous shoes off to get my jeans over my feet, but I obediently step back into them. I’m inordinately glad that I had the good sense, or maybe just dumb luck, to wear a matching set of bra and pants today—nothing too glamorous, but pretty enough in a bright shade of red. And the bra is one of those uplifting sorts which defy the usual effects of gravity quite fetchingly. Dan’s lip quirks in a way that’s starting to seem quite familiar as he takes my jeans too and places my clothes on the arm of the closest sofa.

“So, you did come dressed to impress after all.”

“What do you mean?”

He points to my shoes. “Do you usually choose your footwear to match your knickers?”

Not as a rule, I don’t. For some reason I made an exception today. I have no idea how, or even if I should answer. I settle for a non-committal “Not usually. Just a lucky coincidence I suppose.”

He seems inclined to let it go at that, and gestures to me to sit down. Despite now conforming to the club dress code, my impulse is still to huddle up in the corner of the seat, so I do just that. Dan offers me a wry smile as he settles himself alongside.

His perusal of me is sharp, perceptive. He makes no attempt to draw me closer or to touch me. I appreciate his forbearance.

“This is a good spot. We can see pretty much everything from here. Do you have any questions just now?” His voice is soft again, gentle, enticing.

Maybe he could touch me if he liked, just a little…

Yes! My head is full of questions.
“No. Could we just watch for a while?”

“Excellent plan. Are you warm enough?”

I smile at him, appreciating his dry humor as I recall our earlier conversation. “Yes, thank you. Perfectly.”

The next few minutes pass in silence as I gaze around me in undisguised curiosity. Most of the equipment is in use, and far and away the majority of the participants on the receiving end are women. Primarily naked women. Naked women who look to be having a seriously good time.
Incredible.
A couple stroll casually over to what appears to be a bench of some sort. She leans across it, and he crouches beside her, fastening straps around her wrists and ankles to hold her in place. I watch, worried, as her partner walks away, leaving her restrained and exposed, her bare bottom on display for all. He’s soon back, a rubber paddle dangling from his right hand.

“Why has he tied her up? I thought you said all this was consenting adult stuff.”

“It is. He’s probably instructed her not to move, but if she thinks she might struggle to obey him, she could ask for the restraints. You can be sure, if she wasn’t happy, Frank would know and put a stop to it.”

“Is that what he’s called? Her Dom? Do you know everyone here?”

“No. I don’t know those two. Frank’s our Dungeon Master. Remember I told you that everything that happens here is carefully supervised? Well, that’s Frank’s job. He’s very good at it.” He points to a fearsome looking Dom standing majestically at the far end of the dungeon, his arms folded as he surveys his domain. Frank’s expression is stern and I suspect his eagle eye misses nothing. He does not look like a man to mess with and I have no doubt at all that he’s a most effective custodian of public safety.

Frank glances across the room, his attention caught by something. He makes his way through the activity surrounding him to approach a couple using a large cross. The structure is X shaped, and the female, naked, of course, and blindfolded, is strapped to it. Her back is to the cross and she is facing the room, her wrists held securely above her shoulders in straps attached to the upper points. Even from a distance, she looks scared. Her head is thrashing from side to side. The Dom moves in close, bending his head to talk to her.

And I recognize him. It’s Nicholas Hardisty. I look again, at first in disbelief then, in time accepting the truth of what I see—the submissive strapped to the cross is Freya. The blindfold obscured much of her face so I didn’t recognize her instantly. I’m confused. Dan said she’d been sent to a private room to wait for Mr Hardisty? Is her punishment to be administered here after all? In full view of everyone? Horrified, I turn to Dan.

“That’s Freya. We need to…”

“We don’t need to do anything. She’s fine. Look.”

He nods toward the couple, and I turn back to watch what’s happening. I watch as Nicholas Hardisty takes Freya’s frightened face between his palms, holding her still while he kisses her. And immediately she stops struggling, seems to relax in his hands, under his lips. He trails one hand down her body slowly, caressing her breasts before reaching between her legs. He lifts his head slightly, his lips are moving. He’s speaking to her. She nods briefly then allows her head to drop back as he continues to touch her. His wrist is moving rhythmically. It’s obvious that he’s finger-fucking her. And it’s equally clear that she’s loving it.

“Do you still think she’s afraid of him?” Dan has leaned in to murmur the question in my ear. His breath is warm against my neck. Intimate.

I shake my head, baffled by what seems to be happening, but the evidence before my eyes is clear. Whatever may have taken place since Freya left me in the bar can’t have put her off Mr Hardisty. Quite the reverse, probably. Without doubt, she’s perfectly happy in his company now. Who would have ever thought it?

Freya would. She said she liked him. She certainly looks to like him at this moment. My own pussy clenches in a sort of envious empathy, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the tableau unfolding across the dungeon. I’m seized by a sudden rush of self-consciousness. I shouldn’t be here, watching. Freya knows there are others in the dungeon, that there will be people witnessing what’s happening to her. She’s agreed to play in public, so that’s part of the thrill for her, I assume. But in fairness, she has no idea that one of the spectators is me. It’s one thing to be observed by strangers, safe in the anonymity, but quite another to have her best friend looking on. The best friend she’ll need to face across the breakfast table in the morning.

I turn to Dan, hoping he won’t insist on watching Freya’s little floorshow through to the end. “This is private. I mean, she wouldn’t want… We should go. Please, I feel awkward.”

He could insist on staying. Despite my concerns, there is clearly nothing private in what’s happening in full view of everyone. Instead, he smiles at me, nods briefly in unspoken understanding. “Okay, we’ve seen enough. Now you can stop worrying about your friend and leave them to it. We have issues of our own to settle. Yes?”

Chapter Five

Issues of our own? Which would include me being spanked, naturally.

Dan stands and holds out his hand to me. I take it without comment and let him tug me to my feet.

“Should I put my clothes back on?” I start to reach for my vest, but he shakes his head.

“No, Summer. You look just fine as you are.” He leans past me to pick up my clothes then starts for the exit.

“Come with me, please.” Dan Riche is nothing if not unfailingly polite—and compelling.

I find myself walking obediently beside him as we leave the dungeon.

I glance back in Freya’s direction just before the door swings shut. Nicholas Hardisty is caressing her breasts and looks to be talking to her again. He’s leaning in close, his lips beside her ear. Freya’s head is back, her chin tipped up. She looks considerably more relaxed than I’m feeling right at this moment—and a lot less confused. Again, as if to jumble my thoughts still further, comes that rush of empathetic tightening in my pussy. My underwear moistens as I anticipate the possibility that Dan Riche might be able to make me throw my head back like that too. Soon.

An unbidden image fills my head, the memory of that last man in Barrow, who I had sex with for money. The one who slapped me for disrespecting him. Isn’t that, in essence, what Dan Riche intends to do? So why does this seem a world apart from that experience?

“Summer, keep up, please.”

Dan’s a couple of paces ahead of me. I haven’t been deliberately dawdling but lost in thought, I’ve managed somehow to drop behind and he’s not having it. I quicken my pace to come alongside him again.

“If you don’t want to come upstairs with me, you don’t have to. No one here will force you to do anything you don’t feel happy with. Least of all me.” His tone is level, but with a definite hint of impatience.

I sense that he will not make strenuous efforts to persuade me if I want to drop out, though not because he doesn’t want me. With Dan Riche, choice is everything.

I
should
drop out. I should just tell him it’s been interesting, thank him for the tour, and for reassuring me about Freya. I really, really should. He won’t pressure me. I’ll have my guest pass and be left in peace. He’ll see to it. So why not do just that? Everything about this place, this situation, makes me tense—unbearably uneasy. Dan Riche makes me uncomfortable. It’s something to do with the effortless shift from polite charm to steely determination—some undefinable quality which compels me to obey him, whatever he asks me to do. And that’s the issue for me. I don’t like the unknown, I don’t enjoy anticipation. I certainly don’t enjoy being hurt or intimidated. Who does?

Well, Freya for one. Though what I saw back there in the dungeon did not look even remotely like intimidation. It looked more like—comfort. And protection. It looked like trust. And that baffles me even more.
Christ!

I like things to be tidy. I think we’ve established that. All things. No exceptions. I like my home, my surroundings, and my possessions to be all lined up in the correct places. The places I put them, under my control. Nothing out of place, nothing where it shouldn’t be—no disorder, no random, careless scattering, nothing left lying about to be sorted out later. Everything needs to be right, and consistent, predictable. Here and now. And I’m fast realizing this is just as true for my inner environment too, for my own behavior, my own thoughts. I need certainty, order, control, sameness. I don’t take risks. I definitely don’t take leaps of blind faith with terrifying Doms I hardly know.