by Kira Barker
As I got off the train, I couldn’t help but scrutinize the people heading in the same direction. As my encounter with Beth earlier this week had proven, looks not only could be but usually were deceiving, so the two smartly dressed hipsters in black were out of the question from the start. They ended up in the coffee shop right next to the station. Then there was an elderly couple, definitely the kind of people I’d instinctively dismiss, but they likely had their home dungeon in their bedroom. They also dropped out, taking a side street away from my course. And, just like that, I was alone, with only a random woman walking her dog ahead of me. So much for getting anxious someone would look at me the wrong way.
Simon had texted me the address of the parking lot behind the shop where he would be waiting for me, and from where we’d go down into the dungeon together. Unlike our playroom, which was housed in the lofty, open space of the attic, taking up the entire—if much smaller—upper level of the house, this was an actual dungeon, fully furbished and underground. And not the only public dungeon in the city, even, or so I had been told. Just thinking of that had made me fret a little for days, but being so fucking late that I could barely catch my breath while I waited for an opportunity to cross the street thankfully took care of that.
I found the parking lot well enough, and it took me only a moment to spot Simon leaning against his car, his torso illuminated from where he was reading something on his phone. I hadn’t expected to see so many cars here—most spots seemed to have been filled already—but didn’t bother with counting them as I hurried over to him. He looked up as he heard me approach, a smile faintly visible on his face before he shut off the phone.
“There you are,” he greeted me, leaning down to kiss me briefly after pulling me close. I was still panting with exertion—likely not the most sexy noise in existence—and he let go after a second or two. “Ready?”
I nodded, not sure if that wasn’t the lie of the week, but I didn’t feel like postponing things for another needless five minutes just because I still hadn’t caught my breath.
Simon seemed to agree with me, because he let go. I turned around, reaching for the door handle to get my clothes from inside, but the next moment he pushed me against the car, using his body to pin me down. Strong fingers closed around my wrists and pulled them between our bodies, and he leaned down until I could feel his breath ghosting over my right ear.
“I won’t punish you for being late, but I expect you to be on your best behavior from this moment on. Understood?”
Swallowing became much harder as saliva started pooling in my mouth.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied, then had to grin at how gravelly my voice sounded. But, oh, it felt so fucking good to be back to this!
“Your clothes are in the car,” he explained needlessly, and I had to bite my lip when he ground his crotch against my ass, making me feel his hard-on through my jeans and his leather pants. “You have five minutes.”
He let go of me and stepped away, giving me a pointed look when I took a moment to get my bearings. Still grinning, I wrenched the door open and pulled the gym bag sitting on the seat closer while already starting to shirk my clothes.
There was no sense to being circumspect about this; it would have been easier to change inside, but I had a feeling that he was using this to either provoke me into messing up, or try to get me into the right headspace faster. I felt a little weird as I stealthily bared my torso, then quickly put on the black bra and blouse. Hidden between the open car door and the dark interior, it was less awkward to drop my jeans and cotton panties, but it was when I didn’t find one vital item of clothing that I realized I should maybe have gone about this more strategically.
Stopping with the skirt bunched in one hand, I took one last sweep with my other hand inside the bag, but found it empty. Glancing over at Simon, the wry grin I got in return was answer enough, but I still felt compelled to ask.
“No panties?”
“If you’re bothered by that, you can go down there completely naked, too,” he proposed.
I shook my head and stepped into the skirt, zipping it up behind my back. It felt way too short now, covering only the upper third of my thighs, but I didn’t want to find out how much protest Simon would allow before he took all of my clothes away. The very idea was kind of ridiculous, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
The heels were last, and as soon as I touched patent leather rather than suede, I knew I was in trouble. Those were not the shoes I’d left with the other clothes!
Holding them up for closer inspection, I felt my stomach sink just a little. Oh, fit me they would, I knew that. It just puzzled me why Simon would talk Kara into lending him—well, me—her favorite mile-high stilettos. I could barely walk on two-inch heels without teetering like a newborn foal.
“You can still go naked,” Simon reminded me.
Well, at least I wouldn’t have to go far, I figured, as I put on the shoes—which took about as long as the entirety of my clothes. My only saving grace was that they had straps crisscrossing my feet up over the ankles, or I would have fallen right out of them as I took a few—very small and tentative—steps. And it wasn’t like I didn’t know how to walk in heels—even before Kara, my stepmom had taken pains to ensure that I didn’t break my ankles in the torture implements that came with my prom dress—but I simply didn’t want to. Not that it seemed to matter much tonight.
Resigning myself to the likely scenario that I would end up sprawling on the ground with that stupid skirt riding up to my waist at least once this evening, I waited until Simon had locked the car and offered me his arm, which I immediately clung to like the lifeline it was. No bag for me required—phones were a complete no-go inside, and Simon had already covered our entrance fees ahead of time. With an open bar that just served soda and juice and snacks aplenty, nothing else was required—thus bereaving me of anything I could have clobbered him over the head with.
Too bad, really.
He was still smiling as he led me between the cars to the backside of the building that housed the sex and coffee shop, but at least he’d toned down his obvious mirth. The killer heels came with a single advantage—they put me at almost eye-level with him, which was kind of ironic seeing as tonight we’d likely not act as if we were on equal footing. Or so I hoped.
The party had started more than an hour ago, so I wasn’t surprised that there were only three people ahead of us in line, and mostly because they were chatting with the girl acting as the bouncer. I wasn’t shocked to recognize her as the gothy waif from the shop who’d appeared rather scandalized earlier this week. Tonight, she didn’t bat an eyelash as she waved us in, giving me a polite nod but smiling at Simon with familiarity. Too much familiarity?
Shit.
There were stairs, and way too many of them, so I had something else to concentrate on than the whisper of jealousy crawling up my spine. Simon was smart enough to let me hold on to the rail for dear life, but the moment we emerged at the bottom, his arm reappeared around my lower back, pulling me against his side. I wondered briefly if he’d picked up on the evil look I’d given the woman upstairs, but I was sure that he would have teased me already if that had been the case. Maybe he just wanted to make sure that I didn’t get lost?
Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Jack was standing maybe five feet away, chatting with a guy about our age, munching M&Ms from a provided bowl nearby.
I shot Simon a sidelong glance that he completely ignored as he kept scanning the crowd. Deciding that tonight I had something better to do than worry, I did the same.
I didn’t know what exactly I had expected, but what I saw sprawling out before us was both that, and the complete opposite. Simon had warned me that most play parties were less like a setup for a porn shoot and more like any other social gathering, but the comfy chairs and coffee tables next to several tables stacked with snacks and plastic cups holding drinks looked a lot more domestic than what I was used to from half of our friends.
It was mostly the people who were different; at least I couldn’t remember meeting a middle-aged man wearing a light pink latex tutu and nothing else at any of Kara’s parties. It was somewhat peculiar, but definitely not in a bad way.
Black was kind of the main theme, with the odd brighter color peeking out of the mass of people here and there. I’d expected a lot more outrageous outfits, but so far the tutu was only in direct competition with a bright red, skin-tight latex dress one woman was wearing, and the assless chaps—worn with only a token thong-like something underneath—one guy was sporting. There was a healthy amount of leather in evidence in the form of pants, skirts, dresses, vests, and shoes, but over half of the people here could have walked into the next shop or even casual Friday at work and wouldn’t have stuck out like a sore thumb.
Then again, this was only the first room, housing the designated foyer and non-play area—maybe the more interesting people were hiding beyond the doors I saw to our right?
Simon gave me a few moments to drink everything in, then he started steering me toward the crowd—and those doors. We made very slow progress because, unlike what I was used to, Simon kept greeting and smiling at people, introducing me to everyone as just “Erin,” which I was immensely grateful for. I hadn’t expected anything else, but still. I kept smiling and nodding, a little disturbed that no one was offering hands to shake, but then we would have taken an entire hour to traverse the room. Jack fell in at my other side just before we reached the doors, taking a moment to steal a quick hug and kiss on the cheek—and not without Simon’s fingers tightening against my side. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d set myself up for this.
And then we were through the doors, and, indeed, things got a little more interesting.
Unfamiliar with the layout of the location, I was surprised to find the adjacent room the size of a small warehouse, the high ceiling held up by two rows of columns. People were everywhere in here, too, but there were more open spaces, and most guests were clustered together. Leather and latex were still in evidence, but there was a lot more skin showing to the point of complete nudity. I had kind of expected that—I wasn’t a complete dork about this—but still felt my eyes go just a little wide as I watched a woman in boots and what could only be described as two bands of likely painted-on latex “walk” a naked woman and man on leashes, crawling on hands and knees before her. It wasn’t exactly cool outside, and down here warm was quickly bordering on hot, but the concrete floor must still have been uncomfortable. Which was likely part of the appeal, I reminded myself.
As I turned my head back to Simon, I found him smiling wryly at me again, clearly aware of my observation.
“I’m very happy with my shoes, thank you,” I whispered to him, which made his smile turn into a grin.
“You knew that I wasn’t joking,” he replied.
“When it comes to kink, you never are,” I shot back, then bit the inside of my cheek. I felt a little out of practice with how to behave, but that was likely pushing it. Not that I generally minded pushing him—and he so didn’t mind being pushed—but suddenly I had the mental image of him simply putting me over his lap and spanking me in full view of everyone, and my will to fight went up in smoke. Simon didn’t reply but kept watching what was likely a very-easy-to-reconstruct view of my thoughts plain on my face, then he started leading me into the middle of the room.
“We’re late, so we’ve already missed the bondage demo. Nothing too outrageous, but Tim knows his knots,” he explained as we kept weaving between people, Jack trailing behind us.
“Nothing you can’t do better?” I quipped, then considered stomping my own foot with those damn stilettos.
Simon snorted under his breath and gave me a look that was part amusement, part warning.
“You are aware that—“
“Yes, yes, I know,” I interrupted him, then screwed my eyes shut as I felt his low chuckle reverberate through his body and straight into mine. “Shit, I don’t know if I can do this tonight.”
Just as I opened my eyes, I saw a couple walk by—the man dressed in slacks and shirt, the woman in a tiny black dress that made my skirt seem decent, her head bowed demurely, following a perfect step behind and to his side. She could have been the covergirl of Sub Monthly, making me feel even more out of place.
Simon glanced after them for a moment, mostly to see what I was looking at, then raised his brows at me.
“You know that we don’t have to play things like that? We came here to enjoy the party, meet a few people, maybe eat some cake, that’s it. I don’t have any intention of showing you off or something, and, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about what anyone here thinks about us.”
A woman in a tailored suit, complete with elegant tie, turned around at that, but instead of the scandalized look I’d expected, she flashed us a grin before she turned back to whoever she’d been talking to.
Exhaling slowly, I evaded Simon’s stare for a few more seconds, then forced myself to look at him. I hated feeling like a disappointment, but the only thing I found in his gaze was the usual slight exasperation with me when I got like this.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just—“
Grinning, Simon pulled me close—the bear-hug kind of close, not the don’t-you-dare-stray-from-me kind of close—then reached up to cup my cheeks, looking deep into my eyes before he kissed me softly.
“Then let’s just drop the facade of what is a very half-assed attempt at protocol before anyone starts laughing at us, and let’s just be ourselves. You, me, Jack—“ He trailed off there as he looked to the side and found the place behind us empty. “Who apparently couldn’t resist the mention of food and beat it. Just like home, right?”
Unable to keep from smiling, I nodded, then let out my breath slowly as I relaxed.
“Okay.”
“Good,” Simon agreed, then kissed me again before he let go, if to resume the exact same pose as before—only that now his hand on my lower back seemed more supportive than directing.
“So, this is where the fun stuff happens?” I asked as we walked deeper into the room and I got a first glimpse at what was in the middle of the clusters of people. All over the floor designated areas were set up where people did what most of them had likely come here for—play. Over there I could see a woman bent over a padded bench, getting her ass and thighs flogged; a little further down was a woman, on her knees, busy eating her Mistress out; but from what I could see, the gender distribution as far as identifying roles went was pretty much balanced. And, quite obviously, we weren’t the only ones who’d shown up here as more than just a couple.
“There are a few smaller, private rooms in the back there, too,” Simon explained as we ventured on. “For those who still want to get their kink on but don’t want an audience. Some parties have rules about no nudity or penetrative sex, but Beth believes in letting the people decide for themselves what squicks them out. Don’t judge, don’t interact unless you’re invited to, and when you don’t want to see something, just retreat outside and get some cake. And, yes, that was a deliberate jibe if you’re still too timid to roll your eyes at me.”
“I’m not timid,” I protested, incapable of holding back a chuckle. “Please tell me that I’m just projecting when I feel like you’re trying to mark your turf and were a step away from writing ‘mine’ in big, fat Sharpie letters across my forehead when you saw Jack down here?”
Simon made a face, and I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. That changed somewhat when he suddenly reached underneath my skirt and squeezed my ass hard, the move made even easier by the inches added by the heels.
“Maybe not your forehead, but the thought might have crossed my mind,” he offered.
Now I did roll my eyes, and got another good squeeze before he let go of me, his lips curling up into a smile.
“Is it going to be like this the entire evening? Because I’m not here for that. If I want to accidentally get in between your random rivalry, I can do that
easier from the comfort of our couch.”
Simon had the grace to look at least a little abashed, but not exactly guilty.
“You’re not the only one for whom this is a first, in some ways.”
I was burning to question him about what he meant with that cryptic remark but didn’t get to that as a vision in black-and-white latex was currently stalking toward us. And, of course, just like any other woman here tonight but me, Beth had no problems walking in heels that were even taller than mine. Her outfit consisted of a skin-tight halter top and matching pencil skirt—flaring at the knee into ruffles—that left nothing to the imagination but looked absolutely stunning. She’d already struck me as someone with a lot of confidence when I’d met her earlier this week, but here she was, without a doubt, the reigning queen of her dungeon.
“Simon. Erin,” she greeted us with what I came to think of as her signature smile—a little too bright with just a hint of danger lurking below—and a nod. “Glad you could make it.”
I knew Simon was still watching me, but I couldn’t help but keep on staring, transfixed, at Beth.
“Love your outfit,” I said when neither of the two sadists present made any move to say anything else. I got a somewhat warmer smile for my trouble.
