Just the thought sends thrills of delight racing through me.
We walk through the doors leading down and instantly, the air feels different. The music is low, and the floor is made of stone, so my heels click against it and echo.
Once we get to the door of the dungeon and open it, the sounds of sex fill my ears in a big whoosh.
It’s full tonight with mostly Doms and subs. I don’t come here often because there haven’t been many men I’ve trusted to tie me up, but when I have been here, the Doms and subs rule the dungeon.
These aren’t any old Doms and subs either.
They’re all dressed up in period wear with a gothic feel. Those are the majority. The masquerade setting is perfect for them, and I’ve always thought that they live their lives exactly the way I’m seeing them now outside the club.
The other people wear full leather, or they’re completely naked.
When I first saw them, I used to be quite fascinated by the lifestyles. I wondered what it would be like to be someone’s sub.
The woman I pass now makes me think that again.
She’s got a collar around her neck and kneels at her master’s feet, giving him a blowjob. She just holds his cock in her mouth, though, and she seems to be sucking on command when she takes him in her mouth so deep she can barely breathe. But she’s doing what she’s told, and as she does, he strokes her head, a clear reward.
Paul pulls me in and leans close.
“Careful, I might get jealous,” he says into my ear.
“Nothing to be jealous of,” I assure him with a smile.
“Then I’m lucky.” We pass a couple having sex in the cells. The woman is suspended from the ceiling with ropes, and her man is fucking her furiously. The only thing she can move is her head.
We leave the room and head toward the private dungeons. Paul leads me straight to the room we used to use.
As I step inside, I’m pleased to find it still looks the same.
The same navy and cream colorings adorn the room. The same king-sized bed is there over by the long French windows. And on either side of the room are an assortment of sex toys and apparatus for us to play with.
What’s new, though, is a padded table that looks like the St. Andrew’s cross over in the furthest corner of the room.
“Oh my God, what is that?” I gasp and try to bite back a smile as I imagine Paul taking me on it.
“The newest toy. Want to try it out?” His eyes sparkle with a wildness that arouses me.
“Absolutely.”
“Good girl.”
We walk over to it, and my breath hitches. It’s literally like a bed with the leather cuffs attached to it.
I’d be completely spread-eagled and at his mercy.
He’s watching me looking at the table.
“What do you think?” he asks. “You look hesitant. Never done this before, or have you?”
I give him a smile. There he is again trying to find out what I’ve done.
“I haven’t.”
“Who else tied you up?” There’s a predatory air to his tone that throws me. It’s possessive. Anything wild like this was him. I never did anything at all until him. So I get why he’s asking, at the same time, I’d planned to be his forever. It wasn’t my fault that I wasn’t.
“Three guys, not at the same time. Three different times, three different guys. You? I’m sure you did this loads. You showed me, so I expect you to have kept at it.”