precede him down the stairs.
stepping through the strange entryway. Nothing ventured…
certain, but Claire thought she’d heard the soft snick of a lock being engaged.
Every hair on her body stood on end and her muscles tensed.
the house? If she ran back up the stairs and turned the knob, would it open?
crazy fears aside. She’d gone into this with her eyes open and she would not
freak out. Carl was a Dom. Her Dom—at least for tonight. If she went into this
without trust, limiting her submission, they might as well not even bother.
and looked around the room in awe.
panties grew damp. Lord, she felt as if she’d waited her whole life to submit
in a real dungeon
fixtures on the ceiling cast a soft glow yet left areas in shadow. A pegboard
held a wide variety of floggers, whips, crops and paddles. There against one
wall was a strange chair with a padded V-shaped seat to spread the legs open
and leather cuffs attached in strategic locations. She noted the familiar shape
of a St. Andrew’s Cross looming in the shadows next to an ancient-looking
stockade. The dungeon was well-stocked with various padded tables and spanking
benches, each one equipped with built-in restraints.
his basement. But the proof surrounded her. At that very moment in time, she
stood in the middle of a private, subterranean, fully equipped dungeon.
through her veins. Her abdominal muscles fluttered and she wasn’t sure if the
cause was excitement, fear or a combination of the two. She hadn’t thought this
far ahead or even got around to wondering how it would feel to be in a dungeon.
To know that soon, Carl would restrain and dominate her.
down her spine. Carl. How had she forgotten she wasn’t alone?
I fix a drink.” He nodded toward a small wet bar. “Would you like anything?”
“Water.” A strong drink might help bolster her courage, but Claire didn’t want
anything to dull her senses.
closer look at things. Hanging from a sturdy chain in the ceiling was some kind
of contraption with thick, flat metal vertical slats and horizontal bands. It
was elongated, rounded at the top then broadening before tapering again toward
the bottom. She estimated it at six to six and a half feet tall.
cage, roughly in the shape of a human.
like the one hanging from the ceiling but solid. An iron maiden? The device had
hinged doors, one of which had been left open, revealing an interior lined with
spikes. When a person was shut inside, those spikes would press into their
Carl, still at the bar with his back to her.
went too far and she asked him to stop, would he?
she approached the center of the room and the least threatening apparatus she’d
seen so far. Similar to a padded massage table with thick wooden legs but oddly
canted, as if the maker cut one set of supports shorter than the other. The
table surface itself was short, perhaps two-feet long. At the higher end the
padding curved over the rounded edge. She noticed a cut out section at the
lower end and off to each side were wide, hinged metal cuffs that would lock
someone in place. She stepped around the table and saw similar cuffs toward the
bottom of the taller legs.
thickness of the leather padding, a scraping sound had Claire turning her head
toward Carl. The toe of her shoe caught on something and her forward momentum
threw her off balance.
through the air as if she’d been pushed, practically flying with her arm
extended, her pelvis slamming into the curved table edge.
abrupt halt on top of the table, knocking the breath right out of her. The
material of her skirt flapped up, bearing her panty-clad ass to the chilled
heavy piece of furniture was shoved by the hard impact of her body. This was
followed by the loud clang of metal on metal.
sense of what had happened.
hands to lift her upper body but was stopped short, her right wrist held firmly
in place. Horror dawned as she turned her head to see the cuff had snapped
closed over her wrist.
her ears were filled with the loud swish of her galloping pulse.
the indignant position or fear that she’d had help getting into this mess. Had
Carl pushed her or had it been an innocent trip and fall?
passed her lips.
neck to watch Carl’s slow approach. Too slow for her comfort. Apparently the
jerk was enjoying the view of her bared butt sticking up.
the hem of her dress and push it down. As she grasped at material, hard fingers
closed over her wrist and forced her left arm toward the open cuff. Claire
kicked, bucked her body and struggled against him but Carl had strength on his
side. Within moments he had her left arm and both ankles locked down to the table.
As she continued to struggle, he fastened a wide leather strap over her hips,
severely limiting her movement.
gone and Carl had turned into a complete psycho. He had her immobilized in his
basement dungeon, far from any other house. No one would even hear her scream.
strength into trying to break free knowing the effort was wasted but unable to
stop fighting for her freedom.
you and thank me for it.”