The Dangerous Hero (18 page)

He had spoken with enough other doms to know that this was not unusual. Some people had childhood experiences that had shaped their sexuality, but many, like him, had not had any weird or violent experiences. He was just kinky. That was the way it was. He had nothing to feel guilty about or apologize for.

If he had never found out that there were people who shared his fantasies, he probably would have kept them secret, pleasures to be indulged when he was alone. A way to get himself off. In the privacy of your own mind and heart, you could indulge any scenario. Safe in the shadows, no one else involved, no one else harmed.

But it had turned out that there were other people who shared his need. Who fed it. And he had learned the ways to take his pleasure and give it, while keeping his partners safe.

The great taboo surrounding consensual BDSM had mostly been lifted in the contemporary world. People knew about it, joked about it, did it for fun. Dabbled.

Stephen wasn't a dabbler. He didn't want a partner who was BDSM-curious. He wanted someone who was took the same delight in it that he did.

So far, he hadn't been able to decide where Viola fit in the scheme of things. At some moments, he thought she was as into it as he was; at others he wasn't so sure. He would discover the truth of her, though. An intense BDSM scene had the tendency to strip away all pretense, all facade. He could take her to a place where there was no shelter, nowhere to hide. A place where she would have to be honest with him, because when your defenses were shredded, honesty was all that was left.

* * *

She didn't know what to expect. She had seen a few pictures online of the interior of BDSM clubs and people's personal dungeons. Usually it was just a room in someone's house where they'd hammered hooks into the walls to hang their whips, paddles and floggers. Maybe a spanking bench where the submissive could be bent over and restrained. Dim lighting. A bed or a couch where partners could fuck. A room that was similar to a gym, except that the apparatus was kinky.

This was not like that.

She knew it at once as soon as he unlooked the heavy door and pressed it open. When she paused for a moment on the threshold of the dark space within, he took her hand and pulled her through.

The air was warm and humid. "I've turned on the air conditioning, but it'll take a few minutes to cool down. I'll show you around in the meantime."

She was blinking into the darkness, having just come in from the bright sunlight. She couldn't see a thing. There must not be any windows, and he hadn't switched on any lights. "Why is it so dark?"

"A dungeon should be dark, I think. It's a metaphor, after all."

"A metaphor for what?"

"Cruelty. Control. Pain." His voice sounded different—harder, colder. "Forbidden desires that we civilized individuals usually keep repressed." She heard him move a little away from her and a dim light came on to their left. She also saw a faint glow on the wall next to the door where they had just entered. An electrical panel of some sort, which he was now standing beside. There were some tiny lights there, all red except one. That must be the light he had just illuminated in the corner. 

"This is a little freaky."

"It'll be fine," he said in his usual voice. "Remember it's playacting. Theater."

He took her arm and drew her toward the lighted corner. The only thing illuminated was a single isolated chair. The chair looked ordinary enough, made of wood with a straight back. Except that there were leather straps attached to the legs, arms and spine of the chair. And, no, it wasn't ordinary, she realized as they came closer. The seat was split. It would support the thighs and legs on either side of a big empty space.

Her cheeks reddened as she imagined herself strapped into that chair. Naked, of course. She would be unable to move while he stood over her and did, well, whatever he wanted.

"That's one," he said, moving past the chair and flicked another switch on the wall. It let up the next area, where there was an X-frame up against the wall, complete with restraints for fastening a submissive to the frame. She would be pinned there, arms and legs widely spread, unable to free herself, her body open and vulnerable.

The frame looked old, but she could tell that was an illusion. Now that she was accustomed to the dim lighting, she could see that the entire space had been designed to look like something from the interior of an ancient castle. The walls appeared to be made of stone blocks, old and crumbling. There were spots where there appeared to be algae or lichen blooming on the stones. Artful painting, she realized. There were iron rings pounded into the stone with chains hanging from them. "This is, um, realistic," she said, her voice a bit unsteady.

"I wanted a medieval-style dungeon. And I like to collect historical artifacts when I can get them."

Okay. She glanced around nervously, half-expecting to see a rusty iron maiden, a charcoal stove with burning irons, Bartholomew Giles' torture devices.

Her heart was pounding, but she was wet between her thighs, and the moisture there was increasing with each device he showed her. She wasn't sure why, exactly. This was scary, and she began to think, as she had a few times before, that deep down Stephen might be as twisted as his dangerous hero.

A spanking bench was next. A wooden contraption that looked like a pillory from an earlier century. A set of strong chains hanging from the ceiling. She looked up. This ceiling had hooks. Bars. Rings. Some kind of pulley type device. They came to a place where the wall had been studded with iron pegs. Various implements were hanging there. Whips and floggers of all shapes and varieties. Paddles. Riding crops. Rods and canes were standing upright in a wooden barrel. There were shelves with cuffs and harnesses and leather collars. There was stuff she couldn't even identify, some of which looked dark, sharp, and ominous.

"In case you're wondering, I have safety equipment, too, including powerful shears that will cut through rope or leather instantly. I won't do anything that could cause harm, and I'm prepared for emergencies."

"Have you ever had any emergencies?"

"Minor ones, yeah. A sub who had an asthma attack. That could have been serious, but we had her inhaler and she was okay."

So that was why he'd asked her if she had any health issues.

"Then there was the time," Stephen went on, "when I must have left the door a little ajar, and Rusty trotted in at an inappropriate moment. I started laughing and that pretty much wrecked the scene. It's hard to be a cruel, vicious master when you're laughing your ass off."

"I like it when you laugh."

"I like it when you laugh, too." He caught her wrists and pulled them behind her back. "No more laughing now, though. You're supposed to be intimidated, you disrespectful brat."

"I am," she assured him. "This place is wild. Scary. You really are deviant, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah." He pushed her over to the X-frame device. "Let's start here. Your basic standing bondage. Strip. I want you naked and ready to be fucked."

She didn't have many clothes on, so they were easy to shed. Stephen stripped at the same time. His dick was fat with arousal, and they hadn't even done anything yet.

He was quick and efficient in finding soft leather cuffs that fit her wrists and ankles. They fastened with Velcro and were snug but comfortable. She was grateful that these, at least, looked contemporary; she had been a little worried that he might put her in those heavy iron manacles she could see resting on one of the shelves.

There were heavy steel rings in both the wrist and ankle cuffs, and equally heavy clips that he used to attach her cuffs to the four points on the X-frame. When he was done, she was bound with her back to the X, her arms high and spread and her legs spread about three feet apart. A thick leather strap went around her body at the waist, locking her more firmly against the frame.

"You look incredibly hot," he told her, running his fingers over her helpless body. "There are so many things I would like to do to you."

She swallowed hard, feeling exposed and helpless. "Do them, then."

"I intend to. Not all at once, though. And not in a way you expect."

When he blindfolded her, she protested. "I want to see."

His fingers bit down hard on her nipple, prompting a cry of pain. "We do this my way. And the next time you fail to call me Master when you speak to me, I am going to whip your pussy."

She moaned out a "Yes, Master."

"I'm going to flog you. We'll try some different whips so you can get the feel of them."

She tested her bindings, but found herself well and truly locked to the frame. "You're going to whip the front side of me?"

His hand moved over her breasts, then slid to her belly and thighs. "I'll never strike a part of your body where an injury could result." He leaned close. Both his hands moved around behind her to grab and caress her ass. "A spanking back here is safe. It's an area of fat and muscle with no internal organs near the surface. But I won't strike you here..." his touch moved up to just above the small of her back. "Your kidneys are too close to the surface. Higher up on the back is safer because of protective muscle and bone." His hands returned to her breasts. "It is also safe to strike the breasts, which are largely fatty tissue. Within reason, of course." The caress moved to her thighs. "You can whipped here." His fingers touched her between her legs. "And even here. As long as the top is careful. It would of course be painful." 

She was quivering all over, but she was not afraid. He hadn't actually done anything but talk and caress her lightly, but she felt as if she was almost ready to explode. She had known she had dark fantasies, but she had never realized she wanted his kind of loving so damn much.

His hands returned to her breasts. "Arch your back for me a bit." When she did, her breasts were thrust more deeply into his hands. He ran his fingertips lightly over her nipples and she tensed, waiting for him to squeeze the way he loved to do. But he caressed and teased instead, and then he dipped his head to kiss her breasts thoroughly, sucking each nipple into his mouth and tonguing until they were both hard as pebbles.

She moaned with delight. "Your breasts are beautiful," he whispered. "So many ways to play with beautiful breasts." Sucking one nipple into his mouth, he bit down until she tried to pull away, but her bonds made it impossible. Before the pain built, though, he soothed the spot with his tongue and slid one finger down to delve into the wet folds between her legs. "So wet for me." He moved the finger in and out. He angled it up against her clit. "Roll your hips, love. Ride my finger."

Wet heat blossomed in her core as she obeyed. The restraints holding her legs apart made her all the more vulnerable and the strap around her waist binding her to the X-frame prevented her from moving much. But it felt amazing, and her excitement quickly spiraled. He kept moving his finger down there, then added a thumb on her clit. His other hand compressed one of her nipples, sending pain-pleasure radiating down into her clit and making her whole body arch as much as the bonds would allow. Her moans grew louder as everything built toward a crescendo.

"Don't come," he said sharply, eliciting a cry of protest from her.

But he didn't stop the stimulation. It continued, both of his hands busy, as he sucked and nibbled at her other nipple. She gasped, trying to hold herself back from the monumental climax that was building in her belly.

"If you come without permission, I will have to punish you," he said in a soft, low, threatening voice. Instead of stopping her, that sexy growl pushed her right over the edge. She stiffened and howled as the orgasm crashed through her, making her pulse madly on his still delving fingers. Through her fireworks of pleasure she heard him softly laugh. "My sweet sexy angel, I am so going to make you suffer for that disobedience."

She would have clung to him and laughed, had she been able to free herself. He'd made it impossible to obey, as he damn well knew.

"You did that on purpose," she gasped, when she could speak.

"And you," he breathed in her ear, "have a lot to learn about following orders."

He moved away from her and she realized he wasn't going to let her down from the frame yet. When he came back, she heard the faint clink of some kind of metal. He plumped out one of her breasts and tugged on her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Then she felt a harsh bite of pain. "Nipple clamps," he said, adjusting the metallic clamp that was now squeezing her right nipple. "How does that feel? Too much?"

Still pulsating from her climax, she tried to make sense of the feeling in her right nipple. It hurt, yes, quite a lot, but it felt kinda good at the same time. "I think it's okay."

"I think it's okay, Master," he reminded her, and gave the clamp a tug that made her squeal.

"Sorry, Master," she quickly said.

"You're forgiven. Try to remember. Don't make me deduct points from your grade, Professor."

She giggled at the idea of being the student, not the teacher. "I'm not such a cruel taskmaster with my students, Sir."

"I'm sure you're not. You're nowhere near as sadistic as I am, are you?" He was playing now with her left nipple and she tensed, realizing what was coming. "You ready for the second one?"