Page 21 of Master My Love

“Can’t I stay?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“But—”

“With that iron fist comes an iron palm, little one. Don’t push it.”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t dare.”

He frowned, dissatisfied with the generic address, wanting more from her. “I'd prefer that you address me as Master Eric while you're in my dungeon. Master will also do.”

The color in her cheeks intensified, but she nodded, answering with a soft, “Yes, master,” which was very much to his liking.

“Good girl. Let’s go explore.”

***

DISTRACTED BY THE MARCOand Lyla melodrama, Val had caught only brief glimpses of the playroom. When Eric raised the screen and helped her from the booth, she sucked in a breath. From their vantage point, she could see everything.

The room was enormous. No, that adjective didn’t do it justice. It was the size of a warehouse and filled with hundreds of people. The air was buzzing with electricity, like everyone was expecting something big to happen. The mysterious midnight event, no doubt. She was dying with curiosity, but she didn’t dare push Master Eric as he warned a few times already.

In front of them, a steady stream of men and women in various stages of dress flowed by. More climbed a staircase against the rear wall to an upper level that, from the faces peering down at them over the railing, contained at least another hundred members and guests. Still, others occupied the center of the room using every kind of bondage equipment imaginable—and a lot she couldn’t have thought up if she’d tried.

The endless sight of leather and skin was surpassed only by the multitude of bare breasts and ass cheeks. More than she’d expected to see in a lifetime. When a woman in leather walked by with two collared subs, one male and one female, wearing only a collar, cuffs, and a revealing leather harness, she recalculated—more than in a hundred lifetimes.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?” he asked her.

Mesmerized by the spectacle before her, she couldn’t speak, only nod.

Thankfully, Eric didn’t demand more of an answer. While she tried to do the impossible, taking everything in all at once, he wrapped her leash around his wrist twice. Then, with her hand in his, he led her down the three steps to the main floor where they merged into the constant flow of traffic.

Val noticed the women came in a variety of shapes and sizes, and a wide range of ages, although most were young, in their mid-twenties. She saw several around her own age, but only a few older than that. The clubwear was an eclectic mix of revealing dresses and skimpy leather ensembles like what she had on. One woman’s outfit was nothing but straps crisscrossing her body, leaving nothing to the imagination. Another wore a latex bodysuit with cutouts for her breasts and bottom cheeks, with a diamond-shaped opening in front revealing her waxed pussy.

A few of the men, all dominants without question, wore business suits, or dress shirts and trousers, like Eric. Most wore jeans or leather pants with form-fitting tees, or they were bare-chested. The male submissives wore much less, if they wore anything at all. But everywhere she looked, black was the predominant color.

As Eric steered her through the mass of people, he explained how they designed the main flour in four concentric circles resembling a dartboard, each ring differentiated by unique flooring and lighting. The outermost ring contained seating, both booths and couches for viewing and aftercare. They were roomy enough for a small group to gather but had screens for more discreet moments, like she and Eric had shared. Val noticed very few were in use, the patrons apparently unconcerned with privacy.

The next ring was a wide walkway where voyeurs or casual spectators could stroll from scene to scene, observing the various and sundry forms of kink.

Dozens of roped-off stations with bondage equipment made up the third circle. From floor level with people standing three and four deep at many of the stations, she couldn’t see much.

“The center is actually a revolving platform with a hydraulic lift,” Eric explained. “It’s used primarily for demonstrations. At its highest point, it towers thirty feet over the dungeon floor, easily seen by everyone, on any level, from any direction and any corner.”

“What’s in the shadowy area toward the back?”

“That, my dear, is what we call the wailing wall.”

Wide-eyed, she looked up at him. “The what?”

“Seeing is believing,” he replied with a grin. “Let’s have a look.”

The eight partitioned sections along the rear wall were double, some triple in size compared to the stations on the main floor. Four of the spaces contained much larger items, such as an 8-foot wooden cross and a padded bench that was as large as a picnic table. The purpose of the latter was a mystery to her.

“Some required wall-mounting for safety,” he explained.

She didn’t question him further, not sure she wanted to know. Val was more interested in the stations containing only a wooden post. “Dare I ask what those are for, master?”

“Exactly what you’re thinking, little one. We have a few whip enthusiasts. To wield a single tail or carriage whip safely indoors requires plenty of room.”

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