Thursday, June 7, 2012

Countdown to Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 - Excerpt 2

So here I was, kneeling on the wood floor of the library at their feet naked, my hands bound behind me and a ball gag shoved in my mouth.  I kept my head bowed down subserviently as I waited to find out what sentence Tristan had decided upon.  I prayed that whatever it was, it would be enough for Dan to feel we could start over.
I watched one of Dan’s loafered feet tap impatiently in front of me.  “I’m angry all right.  So what does that mean?  We don’t discipline her for misbehavior?”
“Think about it, Dan.  Can you trust yourself not to lose control right now?”
I heard real heat in Dan’s voice.  “It’s low to wave that in my face.”
He was referring to the desperate, panicked anger that had made him take the life of a crooked IRS agent who was looking to blackmail him.  Dan had died in prison while serving a life sentence.  The fear of losing everything; his wife, children, home, and business had driven him to do the unthinkable.  His uncharacteristic actions haunted him to this day.
Tristan’s tone stayed even.  “I’m not waving anything in your face.  It’s a valid concern.  If I laid my hands on her right now I’d not just hurt her, I’d damage our relationship.  I’m that angry.”
My heart was heavy to hear him say that.  Nothing hurts a sub worse than her Dom’s disappointment.  I really deserved whatever punishment he had decided on.  Not to mention I couldn’t seem to curb my fascination with Bane.  Maybe a good round of harsh discipline would cure that.
Dan sighed.  “Okay.  So what do we do with her then?”
“We leave it to others to punish her, those who can be subjective about it.”
I started.  He was going to have another Dom reprimand me?  I swallowed hard against the gag.  Someone with no emotional involvement could be a harsh taskmaster.  Maybe Tristan had a sadist in mind.  I turned cold.  Light pain was one thing, but I’m not really a masochist. 
Dan’s tone echoed my worried thoughts.  “Like who?”
“Grab on and come with me.” 
Tristan grasped my shoulder, and after a moment’s hesitation, so did Dan.  The pant legs and shoes before me smeared as we started our transport, and I closed my eyes, afraid of where Tristan would take me.
I heard rather than felt our arrival.  I smelled sweat, cologne, leather and sex.  The familiar sounds of club music, things hitting flesh, and eager moans and sighs popped my eyes wide open.  We were at a BDSM club.
Well, there were certainly worse places to end up.  Warm fuzzies tumbled in my belly to see a gleaming bar area tended by a bulldoggish man in black leather with Doms and Dommes lined up, sipping drinks and exchanging comfortable conversation.  Subs knelt at their feet, many wearing collars and little else.  Some were on leashes.  Still more people sat around tables.  Everyone had that ghostly sense of otherness, that insubstantiality that souls possess even though we appear solid to one another.
Dan’s voice was hushed with shock.  “Good night.”
I dared to peek up at him, and saw he stared at something behind me.  I cautiously turned my head to have a glance at what had caught his attention.
Ah, the play area.
My lower parts really heated up to see several scenes acted out under bright spotlights.  A naked sub was spread out on a St. Andrews Cross, her buttocks and thighs wearing the stripes of the expertly wielded whip flicked by a bare-chested Dom.  As I watched, the whip snapped her rear, and she moaned with trembling delight.  She strained to push her hips back, begging for more. 
Next to them, a male sub was strapped to what looked like a padded sawhorse.  His Domme, gorgeous in a rubber suit that looked like black liquid, paddled him thoroughly while pumping his cock in one tight fist.  Through his sobs I heard him say, “Please Mistress, may I come?” over and over.  She said nothing, just continued to punish and delight as he wept, tears rolling down his strained face.
Further over, ropes knotted in what looked like a giant spider’s web snared a plus-sized blond beauty.  Her thighs were twined in the web wide open, leaving her vulnerable to the vibrator her tall, thin Dom pressed to her swollen clit.  She couldn’t beg for release for the ball gag stuffed in her mouth, but her shrieks of agony were plain to hear as the Dom, wearing a cape and leather pants, removed the humming instrument as soon as she neared climax.
I would have loved to be any of those subs right now, especially since I knew whatever I was about to endure wouldn’t be nearly as enthralling.
It was no surprise to me that a BDSM club existed on the ghost plain.  There was probably a solid version right here on this spot, existing in the mundane reality and entertaining the living version of the kinky underworld.  The kind of emotion that comes from BDSM play is extreme in that so much of the artifice we display to others is stripped away in these places.  Playing out scenes exposes us, subs and Doms alike, in ways that can bring euphoria and agony of an emotional sort, far stronger than what we experience physically. 
A solid wall of man approached us, and I dropped my eyes instantly after catching a glimpse of wiry black hair peppered with gray surrounding a craggy dark face with piercing eyes.  This man exuded power, the kind of Dom subs dream of serving and other Doms aspire to be like.  I prayed he wouldn’t be in charge of my punishment.  The thought made me tremble.
His voice was strong enough to have weight.  “Tristan!  I haven’t seen you in forever.  How are things out your way?”
I sensed them shaking hands.  “It’s been better, Miguel, but I’m glad to see you.  How have you been?”
“Wonderful, wonderful.  And your friend?”
“Dan Saling.”  More hand shaking.  “He’s new to the scene, but learning quickly.”
“Good to meet you, Miguel.”
“And you, Dan.  Is training what brings you to Atlanta?”
Tristan sighed.  “I wish.  This sub needs punishment, and we’re too emotionally involved to carry it out.  You always get such good results.  Do you have the time?”
I squeezed my eyes shut.  I was in so much trouble.  All the arousal I’d gotten from watching others play was gone.
“I always have time to correct a disobedient sub.  What’s her weakness?  I have a lovely cane I wouldn’t mind using on such a soft, perfect butt.”
“That would be a reward.  She’s a bit of a pain slut.  What she hates is humiliation.”
Oh please no.  I moaned.

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