by Theda Hudson
"A community?"
The sub nodded again, brushing a hand over her tattoo. "A very tight knit one. You are completely safe here," she repeated.
Cara Mia regarded the woman for a moment, considering her words. The "cardinal rules" got her, I knew. That and reputation. She liked discreet, too, and in her job, she was valued highly for her discretion.
She took a breath and let it out with a "hmmm" that said she was reasonably impressed, nodding at Master Rodrick's sub. "Well, then, Mr. Twist, in for a penny, in for a pound," she said, her voice low and throaty. "Lead on."
I tucked her hand around my elbow, patted it, and we followed a line of people dressed in all manner of jeans, vinyl, Catholic school girl skirts, denim kilts, leather pants, short skirts, and very fine corsets."
"I am a little over dressed, it seems," she said, leaning in to whisper in my ear.
I could smell her, a little sweaty with angst, a little sweet from the Grammercy Twilight cologne she used, and a little musky from her own excitement. My dick pressed against my pants and I wondered if she would notice.
"You are dressed the way I wished," I answered, listening to her hosiery whisper against the material of the dress, thinking of how smooth and soft they would feel as I pressed her against the wall and lifted her dress to run my hand down her thighs.
A man in wearing a T-Shirt emblazoned with "Security" checked our IDs and gestured us in. We stepped inside a small foyer made from modular walls designed to keep the sights inside hidden from outsiders. I pulled Cara Mia out of line and to the side so our eyes could adjust to the dim light. The air smelled of bleach, wax, lube, sweat, and sex.
It was so not sexy for me and I saw Cara Mia wrinkle her nose. I wondered what this combination of scents did for people who lived the lifestyle. Was it like an aphrodisiac? Did it excite them in some weird Pavlovian response? I wondered if I would get the chance to find out.
An industrial-techno rave beat made the room throb, punctuated by sudden loud cracks that split the air, followed by yelps and screams and moans.
Cara Mia's hand tightened on my arm. "So this is slumming."
"Just one of many kinds." I patted her hand and we began to walk. Master Black had described the dungeon and things that went on, but his words hadn't made an impression on me. This was...shocking. Men and women cuffed to frames, tied up and suspended from the scaffolding scattered around the room, laid out on examination tables.
But I hoped by comparison she would see that this made my plan look pedestrian at the least, quaint by any standard here. I steered her around the room taking in the spectacle.
"Is this what you intend for me?"
"Oh, no, Cara Mia." No, I intended something much more base, more primeval than a simple flogging or whipping, more ordinary than clothespins or needles or knives. She would open herself to me completely, ask me to pleasure her and accept my attentions with her eyes open, with nothing to hide her but that name tag and the mask.
Or. Well, I wasn't going to consider the alternative.
"Then why are we here?"
"We are here to take in the sights, see the spectacle. We are slumming, remember?, If you've seen enough we can leave this room."
"And go where?" Her hip brushed against mine. I could feel the smooth material caress my leg. I turned her and kissed her deeply.
"To rendezvous with the rest of our lives."
She shivered and pulled back against me. Was this so hard for her? I had gotten her this far, but perhaps she wouldn't be able to rise to my challenge. I dreaded the thought of taking her home, walking her to the door, and leaving, never to see her again.
I steeled myself against the despair and moved ahead.
"Remember that you trust me," I said brushing my hand over her cheek, resisting any imploring tone. "Remember I love you. Remember that tonight you are Cara Mia. Tomorrow is soon enough for Tasha to face whatever happens here tonight."
When I took her hand, it was cold under mine, and I enclosed her in a tight hug. She was still shivering and her mouth quivered.
"Are you afraid, Cara Mia?" I whispered in her ear.
"No, but Tasha is," she said.
I rubbed her back as I breathed in the mélange of scents that made up the woman I loved. "Then Cara Mia is brave and will enjoy the full range of the experience. Perhaps Tasha will learn something from the experience as well. Let's go."
She paused, staring up at me, her eyes full of fear and, what, irritation? Then she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. Her eyes regained some of the spark I admired.
"We can only hope. Lead on, Mr. Twist," she said.
Chapter 4
Master Black had described the layout of the convention. The dungeon took up the main ballroom, and the smaller meeting rooms were reserved for the classes and demonstrations they offered during the day.
I led her out of the ballroom and she breathed a little easier. I was afraid she had thought I was going to hurt her and, while she might still think so, she had no idea what I did intend.
My heart beat a little harder.
We stopped at the elevator and I pushed the down button. Several other people waited with us. The men all eyed Cara Mia and one leered. His badge said he was Don Coil.
Cara Mia straightened, but she stepped in against me. I have never known her to back down from a man, but she was in unknown waters and I was the only flotsam she knew amongst the rest of the jetsam that surrounded her.
"A beautiful woman you have there," he said. "If you were lending her out, I'd be interested. She has beautiful bone structure. Perfect for bondage."
I heard Cara Mia's indrawn breath. It sounded less like indignation than thoughtful consideration. That was another good sign.
"No," I said, keeping my voice pleasant. "I have other plans for her tonight. But thank you for the compliment." I knew nothing of bondage save that the few pictures I had seen in college excited me in ways that I'd never explored. Until just now it had seemed too much to hope that I could ever work through those feelings with Tasha.
We got on the car and, luckily, people pushed several buttons so I could keep Cara Mia in the dark a little longer. As people got off on different floors, there were only a few of us left, including the man who had expressed interest in Cara Mia.
I wished he'd gotten off since he seemed to take such an interest in her and she might think he was following us.
She watched me, her brown eyes full of questions as we descended. I hoped that she would find answers to her liking because I would definitely not like leaving here and knowing we were finished as a couple.
When the door to the lowest floor of the garage opened, everyone who remained got out.
The first thing that hit me was the smell of sweat and damp, and a hint of bleach, which emphasized Master Black's insistence that every precaution was taken to keep the environment and the participants safe. As a message that everyone was serious about it, it was effective, but I couldn't imagine ever relating it to pleasure, the way he did.
Perhaps Cara Mia and Mr. Twist could come to appreciate what it represented.
As I hoped it was a little cool, not sweltering, with fresh air blowing in from the air conditioning duct overhead.
A loud splashing echoed off the concrete walls.
Cara Mia turned to me, arms akimbo, eyes flashing beneath the domino. "What is going on down here? Is there a swimming pool?" she asked in a voice my mother used when she caught me doing something I shouldn't have been doing.
I struggled to remember that I was a grown man with a plan to bring pleasure to the woman I loved, and cobble together an answer that I thought would pass muster, but not give my plans away.
A woman wearing a short leather skirt with torn hose, scuffed combat boots, and a halter top made of a silk scarf saved me the effort as she laughed and said, "The dirty play, the wet stuff. This is the grungy dungeon." She skipped off toward another young woman and they held hands as they ran around the corne
r.
Cara Mia stopped, pulling her hand from my elbow. "Slumming," she said, her chin lifted, trying for defiant and almost succeeding in hiding the fear that flickered in her eyes and fluttered her voice just the tiniest bit. "If I was overdressed for upstairs, I am completely inappropriate for down here. What do you intend, Mr. Twist?"
Should I tell her? She stood, perched precariously on those tall, tall heels, putting her hands on her hips, her hair fluttering around her face in the breeze from the ducts. Gawd, I wanted to rip the dress from her shoulders and push her to her knees and fuck her there.
"Yes, we are slumming, my dear. Mr. Twist intends to inimately explore every aspect of Cara Mia. Discover what she likes, how she works, what she needs. What gives her the most pleasure."
She shook her head. "I feel like I'm lying, pummeled and confused, in the pool at the bottom of the waterfall of words that come out your mouth."
I gestured around the garage. "Once you pull yourself out of that pool, you still find yourself here, where all the pretty coverings are stripped away, where everything is the bare necessity, where there is nowhere to hide."
"In a garage." Her mouth was flat and her body angled away from me. Rejecting the idea. She shook her head and took two steps backward, toward the elevator. I stood still, not rising to any false moves. Not wanting to spook her.
Then, from her expression, I saw she really heard my words, parsed the message below them, the truth out in the open.
"I can't do this," she whispered, her eyes desperate. But she didn't move again.
Stepping in, I held her lightly, feeling her heart pounding in her chest, her hands freezing, shaking, her legs quivering. I tapped the domino. "No, perhaps you can't," not yet, "But Cara Mia can. And I think she wants to know these things, feel them."
She raised a tentative finger to mine and rubbed the feathered edge of the mask lightly with a red-tipped finger, considering. "I leave it on?" I could feel her heart beating against my chest. Was it all fear or did I detect some excitment?
"You must leave it on," I said firmly as I stroked her back, nuzzling her throat so that her hair lifted under my breath. "No matter what."
"So no one will know what happens to me."
"So everyone will know what happens to Cara Mia."
Her chin came up as she took in the words. She tipped her head away from me as if she'd never seen me before. She barely breathed and, while she considered my words, I barely breathed as well.
"Hmmm," she said, and one hand reached under my jacket to rest lightly on my back. "Hmmm," she repeated as other her hand ran lightly down my arm.
In public.
My heart soared as I realized what a jump this was for her, even with the mask on.
Tasha was a woman with a well-ordered life, with clear boundaries, and a concrete set of rules that she lived by. Would the mask be enough to allow her to set them aside? Would she be able to take up the mantle of Cara Mia in order to maintain her relationship with me? Did she want me that much?
She shifted from foot to foot and squared her shoulders as if readying herself for a huge feat.
"Luiz," she said, her eye becoming soft, like a fawn without its mother. "I cannot do what you ask of me."
Chapter 5
My heart fell and my cock threatened to shrivel up. I could feel my ass tighten but I resisted any feeling of shame and disappointment. I didn't want to have to admit that I had gambled and lost the only woman I had ever really wanted.
I nodded, breathing out my disappointment softly, and shrugged a little in understanding, yet intent on remaining the gentleman. After all, I had thrown down the gauntlet and I had to live with the consequences. "Very well. I understand."
"But I believe this Cara Mia can try."
Had I misheard? A bolt of hope shocked my heart. I wanted to ask her to repeat herself, but then she would see how close I thought I'd come to failure.
Her gaze went laser-like as she considered me. I could see her eyebrows quirked under the domino as she weighed me, considered my next action.
I gathered myself to say something, anything that wouldn't sound choked with the emotion that was bubbling in my chest. But she beat me to it.
"Well, Mr. Twist, shall we see what your Cara Mia can do?"
Laughing in relief was out of the question, so I simply nodded once sharply and offered my elbow. She took it, turning into my body as I led the way down the ramp to our mutual destiny, my heart thumping in equal parts anticipation and triumph.
Her high heels and my leather shoes click-clicked on the concrete floor in unison as we walked. We could hear splashing and whooping as we came closer. The parking garage was a maze of ramps and short walls and corners. Every other overhead light had been turned off, creating dim pools where people moved, languid, sharp, frenetically, adorned with occasional pops and whacks and thuds that were followed by shouts of pain and pleasure, and incredibly, laughter.
Tasha jumped at each shriek and moan, but peered surreptitiously around, taking it in. She squeezed my arm and her hip rubbed against me.
A man in a denim kilt wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed him to be a "Dungeon Master" approached us. "Mr. Twist," he said. "Your space is ready."
"Thank you," I paused, reading his nametag in the dim light, "Master Louis. I think we'll stroll around first, take in the sights, and then see it." I wanted to keep her curiosity piqued a bit longer, now that I knew she wasn't going to bolt and run.
Whether that would change once she realized, or thought she realized what I intended, I didn't know. But she'd given me hope and I was going to take it.
He nodded politely. "This is my area," he said, in a gesture that took in the entire corner of the floor. "Just tell me when you're ready and I'll show you to your space."
"Very good. Thank you, sir."
"You've thought this through, Mr. Twist," Cara Mia said.
Her voice told me she was impressed by the effort. I wasn't going to tell her that Master Black had done the bulk of the thinking, not to mention the arranging. But I would take the credit for it.
"I feel strongly about our future, Cara Mia. I've given it a great deal of consideration."
"I find that I care more about our future than I would have thought, Mr. Twist."
She did? "That makes me very pleased, Cara Mia."
She giggled. She was nervous, then. Good. I wanted whatever advantage I could have when it came to smashing her rules apart, pushing her past the boundaries of decorum she clung to so tightly.
We were passing an area marked off with tarps where people rolled in some what smelled like pudding. Shrieks of laughter came from just beyond it where they sprayed people off with a hose. I imagine it had to be cold water.
In another area, a woman squatted over a man and peed on his chest.
"Is that your secret fetish, Mr. Twist?" Cara asked, gesturing to the woman.
"No, nothing so exotic."
We watched two men wrestle and pummel each other on a huge padded mat under the watchful eye of a man wearing a T-shirt that read "Dungeon Monitor".
Cara Mia exhaled heavily.
"What is it?" I asked.
"For all the seeming atrocities I've seen as we have slummed so far, I'm heartened to know that this is not a free for all and there's some supervision as well as confidentiality agreements.
So Tasha was not ready to completely give in to Cara Mia. Not yet. Just then we saw some movement to our left and turned to look in the corner. The sign caught my eye first. "Slut" was spray painted in big, runny red letters on a sheet of butcher paper affixed to the interior wall. On the floor lay a woman wearing a trench coat, her bound hands tied to a piece of fancy metal work that decorated a short wall to our right. Her legs were tied open, attached to either end of a curb stop. Her apparent struggles had opened the coat and I could see she wore nothing underneath it.
She wore a gag and her make up had run, but she didn't seem distressed as her mouth worked the gag. She se
emed more like a horse with a bit. She humped her hips in invitation at us.
Cara Mia groaned and looked away.
"Nothing happens here under duress or without a fully negotiated agreement," I said firmly. Indeed, Master Black had been at some pains to make sure I understood that everything that happened in this world of his was an exchange of power, completely honestly traded.
"What kind of rules does she have that she would require such a severe situation to let go?"
"I don't know," I said, watching her stare at the woman. I wouldn't have thought of it that way, but it was a more intense version of what I was doing to Tasha. I pictured Tasha slung out on her bed, hands, bound to the headboard, her hair mussed, trench coat in disarray as she watched me standing at the foot of the bed contemplating what treats I would find if I untied the knot of the coat belt.
Then I noticed Cara Mia lick her lips as a small moan escaped her lips when a man walked over to the bound woman and knelt down, whispering something. The woman groaned and the man brushed his fingers over her coat, pausing at the knotted belt.
Cara mia swayed a bit, shifting her weight from foot foot as her hips rolled.
Well, now. This was a long step in the direction I wanted her to go. It made me eager to get our own evening in gear.
"Are you ready to move on?" I whispered in her ear. She groaned softly and turned her face toward me. I kissed her and she kissed me back hard.
"Yes, Mr. Twist."
I took her by the waist and began walking away from the spectacle.
Chapter 6
A few steps later, she asked, "And so what have we negotiated?"
"We have negotiated that I love you and that you trust me to do as I see best for our relationship and ourselves."
"And how can that be an exchange of power?"
"You had and continue to have the opportunity to say no."
"And lose you." She frowned.
I turned her to face me and cupped her cheeks. "Then you understand the stakes," I said as I stared intently into her eyes, trying to force her to believe me. "You can say stop at any time and I will."
