The Keyholder
Available at Romance Unbound Publishing
Romance Unbound Publishing
Presents
The
Keyholder
Claire Thompson
Edited by
Donna Fisk
Jae Ashley
Cover Art by Kelly Shorten
Fine Line Edit by
Kathy Kozakewich
Consulting Editor – Jamie D Rose
Ebook ISBN 978-1937337766
Copyright 2015 Claire Thompson
Copyright - Cover art image Mystock88photo | Dreamstime.com
All Rights Reserved
“This is the main dungeon. It’s got all the usual stuff—two St. Andrew’s crosses, a suspension rack, the bondage area, a spanking bench, several whipping posts, plenty of high quality gear if a Dom forgets his or just wants to try something different.”
Jack took in the large, well-equipped space with wide eyes. “So, how does this work again? You’re, what did you call it, a keyholder?”
Charles nodded. “That’s right. There are twelve keyholders right now, not counting Phillip Duncan.”
Nora, Charles and Jack all turned at the sound of someone clattering down the stairs and walking swiftly along the hallway. Jack raised his eyebrows in question. “That’s probably Phillip now,” Charles said. “As Master Keyholder and caretaker since George Hawthorne died, he lives on the premises.”
The footsteps got louder and then the ajar dungeon door was thrust open. Phillip burst into the room, an expression of alarm on his face. He looked rapidly around, and Nora could almost see his mind calibrating and recalibrating what he was seeing, his facial expression adjusting accordingly from angry confusion to calm welcome.
Even discomfited as he obviously was, he still came off like some kind of Nordic god with his blond good looks and perfect body. Though it was ten o’clock on a Sunday morning, he was dressed impeccably in black linen pants, his tailored black silk jacket over a white silk shirt in sharp contrast to her rumpled, denim-jacketed, faded-jeans husband.
Charles moved toward the door, smiling his sunny, trusting smile. “Phillip, I was just speaking about you. This is Jack, Jack McQuade, an old friend of mine. He’s just relocated to New York and is an active participant in the scene. He’s interested in possibly becoming a keyholder.”
“Charles,” Phillip replied smoothly, “what a pleasant”—he hesitated a fraction of a second—“surprise. I didn’t realize you had made an appointment.”
Charles offered an apologetic shrug. “Oh, about that. I guess I kind of forgot. We’re still getting used to the new ways.”
George Hawthorne had run the place a lot more casually, with the keyholder members coming and going without much coordination. Occasionally the results had been a little chaotic, but generally folks managed to handle things informally without too much problem. Since they’d brought in Phillip to manage the place, things did run more smoothly, and he had done a lot to spruce up the place. Still, a persistent negative vibe regarding the man continued to flow around the edges of Nora’s consciousness. There was something false about the guy, something hidden.
Phillip flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No problem. It’s early yet. No one is on the schedule. I just”—he hesitated, his eyes flickering toward the ceiling and then the door—“I like to keep track. The neighborhood. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” agreed Charles, though Nora silently bristled at the subtle jab at the old neighborhood. The three-story brownstone that housed Hawthorne Dungeon was located in a somewhat shabby section of Brooklyn that once might have been considered less than desirable, but over the past several years was definitely becoming re-gentrified.
The first floor looked like any other on the block, complete with kitchen, dining room and living area. No casual stopper-by would have any idea of what was on the second floor. George, a longtime active member of the New York City BDSM scene, had converted the bedrooms into dungeons, each with its own theme. The main dungeon was actually comprised of what had once been the master bedroom, as well as a second bedroom—the adjoining walls removed to make a spacious dungeon large enough to accommodate twenty or more players at a time. In the basement he’d built a BDSM water playroom, which included a state-of-the-art submersion tank and a fully equipped medical playroom.
The keyholders were serious players, each of whom paid dues for upkeep, and had full access to the state-of-the-art equipment and gear. With no family, George had bequeathed the building to the current keyholders, with the property held in a trust. George’s private quarters, now Phillip’s, were on the third floor, which Nora had never seen.
Phillip strode into the room and thrust a hand in Jack’s direction. “A pleasure,” Phillip said as they shook. “I was just going to put on some fresh coffee. Then I’ll be happy to give Mr. McQuade the full tour.”
“No, thanks, that’s okay,” Charles replied. “Nora and I will give him the tour. You just go on about your day. Sorry to disturb you so early on a Sunday morning.”
Phillip looked like he was about to protest, to insist, but then he gave a small shrug and another false smile, and he was gone. Nora felt herself relaxing as his footfalls faded away.
The three of them headed down the hall to the next dungeon. Charles pushed open the door and flicked on the lights as they stepped inside. “Welcome to the punishment room—just the thing for naughty little slave girls.” He flashed an impish grin Nora’s way.
Charles had never put her in the puppy cage or chained her on the torture rack, inviting public punishment as some of the Masters did from time to time with an errant slave. If and when Charles did punish her, it was in the privacy of their home, though it had been quite a while since she’d done anything deserving of punishment, thank goodness.
“What’s that?” Jack moved toward the large shiny metal globe hanging by a thick chain from the ceiling.
“Ah, that.” Charles moved closer. “This unique device is called a head cage.” He touched the globe, causing it to gently sway. “It’s excellent for sensory deprivation during a session.”
Jack, too, touched the cage, peering at it curiously. “Is it safe? How does one breathe when it’s in place?”
“Air holes—see?” Charles pointed. “These small holes here keep airflow within the cage. It opens like this.” He released two clasps and the globe split vertically open like a flower blossoming. “Pretty neat, huh?”
“Very,” agreed Jack, his gaze suddenly focused on Nora. “Perhaps a demonstration with your lovely sub?”
Nora managed to bite back the words of vehement protest that had leaped instantly to the fore, though she couldn’t stop the sudden stab of panic that twisted in her gut. At the same time, a sensual warmth moved its way through her. The result was a delicious combination of fear and lust.
Charles put his arm around her shoulders. “One day Nora will get to experience the steel head cage, when she’s ready.”
Jack lifted his brows. “And how will you know when she’s ready?”
Charles tightened his comforting grip around Nora’s shoulders. “I’ll know because she’ll ask me for it. She will kneel down before me and sweetly ask permission to be placed in the head cage, won’t you, sub Nora?”
Though Nora couldn’t imagine ever doing such a thing, she trusted Charles, and knew he would never do something she wasn’t ready for, and so she replied simply, “Yes, Sir.”
Jack sighed, and Nora sensed his intense longing for a connection such as Charles and she shared. Her heart went out to him, even as she racked her brain for a potential partner for him. He gave a shrug and smiled. “Maybe I’ll find a girl like Nora one day. Speaking of which, how does Hawthorne Dungeon work for single members? Do you have subs on the premises?”
“All members are permitted to bring friends and play partners here. It’s never been a problem. It’s very timely that you should ask about subs on the premises, because up until now we’ve never had that, but Phillip’s been pushing for it. He’s already interviewed a few candidates. He’s looking for submissives willing to serve serious members of the BDSM community who want to scene but don’t necessarily have a partner. These will be trained subs, available for sessions on an on-call basis. You would negotiate the scene of course, and there would be an additional fee to cover the cost of their services, but at least this way you wouldn’t have to worry about some amateur throwing a wrench into your play.”
“That’s it. You’ve sold me,” Jack enthused. “Where do I sign up?”
Charles smiled. “Phillip can take care of the details with you, but I’m glad you’re excited. And you haven’t even seen all the rooms yet. Let me show you the rest.”
They started down the hallway when Charles stopped suddenly. “Wait, let’s go down to the basement first. I want to save the harem room for last.” Charles’s eyes sparked as he gazed at Nora. A shiver of excited anticipation moved through her as she understood he had plans for her.
“The harem room, huh?” Jack said. “Sounds intriguing.”
“It is,” Charles agreed. “But first let’s check out the basement, shall we?”
As they clambered down two flights of stairs, Jack laughed. “You don’t even have to join a club. Just running up and down all these stairs keeps you fit, huh?”
“Actually,” Nora volunteered, “there’s an elevator next to the butler’s pantry. It’s incredibly slow, but it’s handy for folks who might need some assistance.”
The entry to the basement was like any other in the old neighborhood, with cement flooring and a setup for the washer and dryer, but there the comparison ended. Charles led them first into the small converted space that housed the medical dungeon. Inside stood an adjustable exam table complete with leather restraint straps. Various shiny, scary looking tools covered in shrink-wrap lay in wait on a stainless steel table beside it. Nearby sat an authentic dental chair, also retrofitted with restraints, metal dental mouth gags and dams at the ready.
“Lots of room for the imagination in this space, eh,
Doctor
Finch?” Jack teased.
“Oh, yeah,” Charles replied enthusiastically. “Especially with a patient like my sub girl.” Nora and Charles had passed many a sexy hour in the small but well-equipped space, indulging in some of Nora’s favorite erotic fantasies that included the handsome, sadistic doctor taking undue advantage of his patient.
As they entered the second, much larger space, Charles, the pride evident in his voice, said, “You won’t see anything like this in any of the clubs.”
“Whoa,” Jack breathed, as he took in the room. The walls and floor were tiled like a communal bathroom, complete with drains set at intervals along the floor. The space contained a full-size submersion tank, as well as bondage equipment and hoses for diabolical erotic water play. Black rubber aprons and full-length leather gloves hung neatly along one wall.
“And you have full access to this whole place, 24/7?”
“Yep,” Charles said, adding, “though, as you saw, Phillip’s big on making sure we schedule appointments.”
“Where did he come from, anyway?” Jack asked. “He seems kind of young for a position of such responsibility.”
Charles shrugged. “Thirty, thirty-one, I can’t remember exactly. He comes highly recommended from the West Coast. Big player in the Seattle scene. Managed a couple of the trendier underground clubs there. Excellent references.”
“So you found him how?”
“Internet. We placed an ad at some of the better-known sites. We had a couple of other guys interested, but they didn’t pan out and he was available, eager and has done a good job so far. Though,” he added with a rueful smile flashed in Nora’s direction, “he does exhibit a certain arrogance that puts off some of the members, the women especially.”
“It’s not just arrogance,” Nora said earnestly. “It’s something else—something underneath. It’s almost reptilian,” she added, trying to find the right word. “He strikes me as cold. Even cruel. I feel it whenever he’s around—it’s like something icy slithering down my spine.”
