heartbeat racing as I pause in my steps. I don’t look at them, but I make sure that my bracelet is in view. Once they see it, they move on. No one seems interested in someone who still doesn’t know what they want.
With the rubber bracelet on my wrist, the only people who talk to me are submissives waiting for their partners or the trainers. I like it that way. It makes me want to keep the bracelet forever. It makes me feel safe. But the days are limited. The membership here is expensive. Too fucking expensive. The first month with this bracelet was on the house. Madam Lynn, the owner I think, said that I could stay to see if it suited me. But next month I have to pay up if I’m not paired up. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Or if I ever will be. But the month is almost up.
It’s hard not to stop and stare at the sexual acts taking place in the playroom as I pass them. The men and women going at each other with untamed depravity. Their moans and cries and grunts and groans assault my ears, the smack of their flesh pounding against each other, filling my already heated blood with sexual desire.
I ignore it as best I can, although my breathing is coming in faster, and continue on into the darkened corridors, my pulse racing with excitement.
There’s nothing in this world like the place I’m about to enter. The playrooms are an intense experience, but down here it’s far more… primal, possessive, raw in every sense of the word. I make my way down a darkened hallway to where two men dressed in dark suits wait on either side of a large iron cast door. They’re employees, guards who make sure that everything runs smoothly. And that no laws are broken. They give me a cursory glance before opening the door, the sound of its creaking making my heart jump in my chest.
I suck in a jagged breath before I walk into a darkened stairwell, the only lighting being small, glowing red scones on the wall, giving the area an almost evil feel. A few masked men pass me on my way down and their way up, their dark gazes holding secrets that chill my blood. One man even stops to look at me as if thinking that I am looking to be taken, but when he sees my bracelet, he keeps moving like the men back at the playroom.
They respect that I’m not ready and not a single person has tried to push me. There are rules to the club and they’re strictly followed. It makes me feel safe. It’s odd to think that way, given the nature of this place. But I do feel safe.
I shudder to even think about what goes on through the Masters and Dominants’ head when they look at me. In a thrilling and exciting way. A way that hardens my nipples and sends a pulsing need to my clit. I’m almost ashamed at how turned on I am by their questioning glances and piercing stares and the sinful thoughts I know that lurk behind their eyes.
It’s just how I imagine it in my books. I only hope I can write about this in a way that does this place justice. That captures the sensual seductive side along with the other emotions coursing through my blood.
As I get closer to my destination, a shrill scream that’s a mix of pleasure and pain, rips through the stairwell. It’s followed by whimpers and moans. I pause, gripping onto the banister for support, my breath stalling in my lungs. I’ve been here many times, but I still can’t prepare myself for some of the darker things that happen in the dungeon. It’s so sexually intense that I become dizzy with desire and emotion. Thank God I’ve taking that hit of tequila.
After I calm myself, I continue on until I make it to the bottom floor. The sounds of moans and seductive pleading filling my ears.
It’s a place that resembles a 17th century English dungeon, with cages and racks on either side of the room, and torch lighting along the walls. The ambiance is everything that makes this room… tempting and forbidden mixed with danger and fright.
It’s more private here, especially this early, but I’ve seen many things here that I never imagined I would. Even more, things that have turned me on. Scenes I’ve