The Dom's Dungeon

Chapter Five

She changed the bandage on his back when they got home. Only a tiny bit of clear pink drainage had stained the gauze, and the wound was healing nicely. As she taped the gauze down, she couldn't help but notice the long lines of his torso and the contoured muscles of his back. Under her fingers, his warm skin felt velvety soft over disconcertingly hard muscles beneath. No businessman she'd ever seen had muscles like that.

Bemused, she looked up and met his penetrating gaze in the mirror. Oops. She stepped back hurriedly, only to have him grasp her wrist.

“MacKensie, it's time we talked.” Still holding her wrist, not her hand, he led her to the family room and pointed to the couch. “Sit there.”

As she took a seat, he opened the curtains to display a magnificent view of the Sound, with the white-capped Olympics beyond, then disappeared into the kitchen.

Mac leaned her head on her hand and studied the mountains. Yeah, they really were gorgeous. Yet right now she wanted cozy instead. A place deep inside her ached with the need to be rocking on her porch swing with the neighbor's cat a warm weight in her lap. Red and orange leaves would be swirling down from the big maple, and she would grumble to Fluffball about having to rake them all up.

Before she could descend into a major homesickness attack, Butler got up from the rug by the fireplace and leaned against her leg with a heavy sigh, as if he'd worked a twelve-hour day. She leaned forward to pet him and whispered in his ear, “I had a rough day too, baby.”

Alex returned and handed her a glass of dark red wine.

After taking it, she regarded him warily. “What are we going to talk about?”

He sat down in the middle of the couch. Why did the man always crowd into her space?

“In a couple of hours, we're going to my club to spend the evening,” he said. “A friend and his sub had a private collaring ceremony earlier today, and they plan to celebrate at Chains. You'll be on display as my sub, MacKensie.”

Good thing he'd given her the wine. She took a hefty gulp. Good stuff. Smoother than any she'd tasted before. “And what exactly will that display entail?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Your first lesson is this: what we do—what you do—is entirely up to me.”

Oh now, didn't that just sound great? Undoubtedly, protest would be futile. She was being assimilated and liked it no more than Captain Picard had.

He sipped his wine, studying her until she felt like a lab mouse. “Let's talk about diseases. Have you been tested since the last time you had sex?”

“I've been tested.” Jim had insisted on it after taking her in. “I'm clean.” But hadn't Alex promised no sex? “But—”

“Any chance you're pregnant?”

God forbid. “No. I have an IUD.” Thanks to Ajax, who didn't want to have any of his “girls” sidelined with pregnancies if and when a condom broke. She'd replaced the IUD in college when she'd started dating and hoping… Well, she'd been more optimistic back then.

“Any medical problems? Any at all, MacKensie?” he warned. “I don't like surprises.”

“No. I don't have any medical problems.”

“Have you ever been tied up or restrained in any way?” he asked. “Are you claustrophobic?”

She choked on her wine. “Um. No, and maybe a little.” Just don't shut me up behind a locked door. “I don't like small, dark places.”

“Good to know. Have you ever been whipped? Beaten? Flogged? Hit at all?”

To each question, she shook her head.

“Spanked?”

No one has ever cared enough to spank me. She swallowed. “Only by you.” When his eyes narrowed, moving from her fingers clenching the wineglass to her eyes, she had to look away.

A finger under her chin forced her gaze back to his. “When was the last time you made love with anyone?”

She shoved his hand away and snapped, “I've never 'made love' with anyone.”

“All right,” he said easily. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“About twelve years ago.” And when that john had complained about her unenthusiastic blowjob, Ajax had decided she needed incentive. After the two men left, she'd crawled out of the alley to collapse at Jim's feet.

“That's a long time, little cat.” Alex's low voice broke into her thoughts. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and then massaged her shoulder. “What happened? You would have been…sixteen?”

How did he know that? Oh right. The application she'd filled out for Exchanges had her birth date. “Nothing happened.”

“Don't lie to me, pet.”

“Well then.” She tried to ignore the warmth of the hand on her shoulder. “It's none of your business.”

“Actually it is. As your Dom, I need your history so I know what land mines to avoid. Or head for.”

Head for? But she could see why a person into kinky stuff might worry about emotional hang-ups. “I had some—a—bad experience with sex. That's all,” she said stiffly.

“Has anyone tried to give you a good experience since then?”

“No point.” His finger slid under the collar of her shirt to stroke the juncture of her neck and shoulder. How did he find such sensitive places on her body? “I'm not interested in sex. At all.”

“I see.” His eyes crinkled. “And what would happen if you inadvertently became interested? Aroused?”

“I-I…” She glared at him. “It won't happen, so there's no—”

“In that case, I have your permission to take the next step? To change our play to sexual?”

Did he not understand the “won't happen” phrase she'd used? “Listen, I don't want you deluding yourself that I'm interested in sex when I'm not.”

“Ah. So you require objective proof that we both can see. I understand the need.” He tilted his head. “So if your nipples become erect in a warm room, and your pussy gets wet enough on the outside to dampen my hand, is that a sign of arousal?”

She flushed at just the thought of his hand…there. Damned lawyer. She crossed her arms over her chest. If her nipples had peaked, she so didn't want to know. “No.”

“MacKensie, I should warn you that lying is punished.”

The thought of being spanked again sent a tiny shiver through her.

The corner of his mouth turned up for a second before his eyes chilled. “Now give me the truth.”

“Yes, all right. Wet means aroused, okay?”

“And if you're aroused, then, as your Dom, I will determine how sexual in nature our play becomes. If you become unaroused, I stop. Have we an agreement?”

“I'd rather leave it with no sex at all.”

“I'm not comfortable with those limitations,” he said softly. “As your Dom, I give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.”

Alex kept his hand on his sub's bare arm as they entered Chains. Because of Lynn and Bob's party, the private BDSM club was busier than normal, with every station in use. Whips snapped and floggers splatted, accompanied by moans and screams and whimpers. Most of the rising and falling hum of conversations came from the crowded bar area. The music of Nine Inch Nails' “Meet Your Master” blasted down from the dance floor upstairs, where people lined the rails, watching the scenes downstairs. Upstairs on the left, the quieter safe-lounge area held more people.

“Kink is a popular sport these days, isn't it?” MacKensie murmured, looking around with wide eyes.

“It is.” Grasping her arms, he held her out in front of him, taking a second to appreciate the view. The dark leather bustier not only matched her eyes but also emphasized her tiny waist and pushed her breasts up in a way that tempted fingers to explore. The bloodred latex skirt stretched over her firm, round ass, stopping just below her cheeks. He'd considered letting her wear heels but decided she needed a constant reminder of her submission, so she was both bare legged and barefoot.

His decree of no underwear had received a horrified look, then a stubborn one, and finally compliance. Very reluctant compliance. This would be an interesting night with her denial of her submissive nature and his need to dominate.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked, scowling at him.

Definitely interesting. He tightened his grip to remind her of his strength and ability to hold her in place all night if needed. “MacKensie, do you recall our agreement?”

Her eyes dropped.

“That's better.” He'd held off on swamping her with all the protocols, but this would be a good time for some more. “Now some rules: In a club or anytime we're in Dom/sub roles, you stay silent unless spoken to. You address any Dom as 'Sir' and any Domme as 'Ma'am.' If you need to ask for something, you say, 'Sir, may I have permission to speak, Sir?'”

“You have got to be kidding. That's—” She halted at his frown.

“Making a mistake can and will get you disciplined, little cat.” At his words, a tremor rippled through her. Punishment, discipline, and spanking were trigger words for her, and the haunted look in her eyes indicated an emotional response rather than an erotic one. Another area to explore. Soon.

He continued. “I prefer that you keep your eyes on me; I like to see what's in them.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, feeling the soft, soft skin and the toned muscles hidden beneath a woman's gentle padding. “Keep your eyes down with other dominants. Some take offense at a sub meeting their gaze.”

Her hands tightened into fists. But even in the dim light of the room, he could see a slight flush of excitement appear on her cheekbones. He eyed the bustier that hid her nipples. Maybe he should have forced her to wear only a skirt. Then again, the leather laces could be easily undone. “Is there any part of this that you don't understand?”

She shook her head.

“Your answer should be 'no, Sir.'”

“No, Sir.”

“Very nice.” He let approval warm his voice. The way she drank it in like a thirsty kitten made him want to wrap her in his arms.

“Alex, you made it!” Bob pushed through the crowd, trailed by his sub.

“How could I not come to celebrate with you?” Alex shook Bob's hand. “Congratulations. You're a lucky man.”

“I know.” Bob put his arm around Lynn, pulling her forward. “Oh I know.”

The slim brunette leaned into her Dom, her eyes glowing. Every few seconds, she fingered the thin collar around her neck, stroking the leather as if she wore the finest of diamond jewelry.

Alex glanced at Bob for permission and received a nod before kissing Lynn's cheek. “Felicitations, sweetheart.”

She beamed at him.

Bob looked at MacKensie and raised his eyebrows. “Well. I heard you and Cynthia had parted ways, but she called it a false rumor.”

“No rumor.” Alex smothered his irritation before putting an arm around his little vet and pulling her closer. “I'm working with MacKensie at the moment. She's very new to the scene, and this is her first time out openly as a sub.”

Mac kept her eyes on the ground, but she could actually feel the appraising look from Alex's friend.

“Very pretty.” Bob snorted. “Cynthia's reaction should be interesting.”

Lynn giggled.

“Doubtful,” Alex said in a cold voice.

When his arm around Mac tightened, she didn't resist, needing the feeling of being protected more than she needed to avoid contact. The atmosphere seemed more intense than the public BDSM clubs she'd visited. She'd expected to see subs getting flogged, caned, even sights like the person having hot wax being tipped onto her stomach from a candle. But here, the observers were more focused, and the people negotiating a scene were more serious. In fact, one Dom had actually taken out a list on a piece of paper to go over it, point by point, with a thin male sub. That Dom looked up just then and met Mac's eyes.

She dropped her gaze immediately. Oops. This not looking at Doms wasn't an easy rule to remember.

“We've commandeered an area near the far end, between the stockade and the St. Andrew's cross. C'mon over,” Bob said.

Still within the curve of Alex's arm, Mac walked through the room. By a massive wooden St. Andrew's cross, Bob's group occupied a sitting area of leather couches and chairs. As Alex received a chorus of hellos and welcomes, Mac unobtrusively checked out his friends. The mostly male Doms wore either leathers or black clothing, much like the black slacks and black silk shirt Alex had on. Their ages ranged from thirties to fifties, and most were fairly good-looking, with a couple of men almost as gorgeous as Alex. One female Domme had a male sub, another a female.

As Alex took a chair, Mac looked for one too, then noticed every sub was kneeling on the floor. She didn't want to embarrass Alex, so she did the same, trying not to flash everyone and cursing her short skirt and lack of underwear. Once situated, she checked her posture against the other subs—kneeling, hands palms up on knees, back straight—then glanced up at Alex.

His eyes and smile showed his pleasure even before he leaned forward and stroked her hair. “Very observant, little cat. You look lovely.”

The compliment in his deep voice seemed to glide right through her skin and into her insides, creating a warm glow that lessened her insecurity. Not that the glow lasted as comments from the other Doms came hard and fast. She forced her gaze to stay on the floor.

“New sub?”

“Pretty little thing.”

“Looks a little feisty; 'bout time you had a challenge.”

His hand rested on her shoulder possessively. “Her name is MacKensie, and she's new to the scene.”

When their attention turned elsewhere, she gave a sigh of relief—one that was too noticeable, she understood, when Alex gave a quiet laugh and squeezed her shoulder.

His touch felt good. Too good. He watched her closely and touched her too easily. A slight tremor ran through her, and she edged away from him. He glanced down at her, focused on her a minute, then removed his hand.

And then she felt lonely. Frak.

As the subs stayed silent, the Doms discussed plans for the following week and upcoming events. When no waitress appeared, they designated two subs to fetch drinks. Then two of the Doms asked for Alex's opinion on a scene across the room, some sort of knife stuff that sounded appallingly bloody.

“All right,” Alex told them, then looked down at her. “MacKensie, do you want to see this?”

“I get to choose?” Wasn't he supposed to make all the decisions?

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “I know you don't mind blood, but I don't know how you feel about one person deliberately cutting another.”

She shuddered. That didn't sound at all pleasant.

“And there's my answer.” Alex rose. “Remain here. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Not a problem. Just after he walked away, she realized she'd missed her chance to ask a vital question: where was the restroom? Her bladder felt like an overinflated balloon, and the tight skirt made it worse. She looked around. Two Doms, one Domme, and a handful of subs remained. The other subs wore clothing much like hers, although one was completely naked. Another wore only jeweled clamps on her nipples—ouch—with a chain running between them, and a very skimpy thong.

Mac shook her head in wonder. Apparently she'd gotten off lightly when Alex had chosen her outfit.

Clothing or not, she still had to pee. When a gorgeous brunette kneeling beside the adjacent chair looked over, Mac asked, “Are we allowed to go to the bathroom? I'm dying here.”

Expressionless, the brunette eyed Mac. Then she smiled slightly and pointed. “The restrooms are across the room. You should be able to get there and back before the Doms return.”

“Thanks.” After pushing to her feet, Mac hurried across the room, past two flogging scenes and one man touching some electrical thing to intimate places on his male sub. Looked painful as all get-out.

Once she'd used the toilet and managed to wiggle her skirt back into place, she retraced her steps, using the St. Andrew's cross as her heading.

Halfway there, a hefty Dom in battered leathers stopped her. “Brown top, red skirt, medium height, yellow-brown hair. You must be MacKensie.”

Mac blinked. “Um. Yes.”

“Good enough. I got your safe word and conditions.” He snapped a metal handcuff on her, whipped her around, and put one on the other wrist, just like in a cop show. And just like a show, he pushed her forward.

“Hey, let go!” Mac tried to jerk away, but he had a good grip on her and must have outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. She raised her voice. “I don't know you. Let go of me.” She kicked out at him without managing to hit anything vital, and suddenly the hand clamped around her arm felt like Arlene's. Dragging her to the closet.Helpless. Her hands chilled. “No no no!”

He cut off her screams by stuffing a rubber ball into her mouth, securing the elastic band behind her head. With her hands restrained, she couldn't fight, couldn't get it off.

“C'mon, little bitch. Time for punishment.” Letting go of her, he shoved her ahead of him toward a scene area that held a stockade-like thing.

Horror ran through her at the sight of the single hole in the board. Not designed to restrain a person's hands, but their neck. A short whip lay on the floor beside it. No nono. Whirling, she kicked out at the man and nailed his thigh.

He yelled and grabbed her arm, one huge hand raised. Turning her face away, she braced herself for the blow. For the pain.