Page 13 of Barron

The dungeon’s setup was straightforward. A wide aisle, with sections opening to the left and to the right, extended along the middle of the room. Each section was outfitted with equipment geared for specific kinds of play.

The impact play area, Barron’s favorite, came first. As he meandered about, two couples got his attention. One Dominant had strapped his naked submissive, a curvy blonde, to a Saint Andrew’s cross. She faced front, displaying for the viewers the crisscross pattern her talented Dominant created on her gorgeous thighs, softly rounded stomach, arms, and calves while carefully avoiding her breasts. With each throw of the whip, she moanedand rolled her head side to side. She was stunning in her arousal, and Barron’s cock stiffened with interest.

Two loud whacks, followed by a piercing wail, shifted his attention to the other couple. At first, the submissive’s red hair gave him a start. Immediately, the mysterious woman from the courthouse came to his mind. Then he rejected the idea. What were the chances the same woman would frequent a kink club on the outskirts of Savannah? Pretty remote. Besides, the way the redhead had carried on during the sentencing and had threatened the judge and everyone else didn’t fit a submissive’s personality.

Upon a longer and more careful inspection, this subbie—kneeling facedown on a stretcher with her butt exposed and holding on to the edge—wasn’t the same woman at all. She was younger and seemed shorter. Barron had to admire her tenacity and desire to please her Dominant. The guy wasn’t holding back on his blows, yet she didn’t slide or move an inch. Barron supposed her test was to take the paddle blows using no restraints or assistance except her gripping fingers and willpower.

“Interesting play,” Johnny G whispered.

“Uh-huh.”

“I wonder how long she’ll hold out.”

Barron shook his head. “She’s going to last. I can tell. Want to stay and watch? I’m moving on.”

“I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay.” Barron walked away.

Even though the club wasn’t too busy, there was plenty of activity throughout the different sections. He walked past medical and shibari areas, and one dedicated to fire play, now empty, and finally reached the end of the original dungeon. Here, the aisle split left to right. Four doors were spread across. These were the private rooms Darius had mentioned. Next to each door was a rectangular glass panel. He peeked through, but it was dark inside, and he couldn’t see a thing.

“May I turn on the light for you, Sir?”

Startled, Barron turned. The mask-wearing woman had appeared from nowhere. He frowned. Faces and expressions were his thing. Masks put him off. Except for her forehead, dark eyes, and bright red lips, her face was hidden under an ornate Venetian-style mask with golden feathers and fancy fabric. The rest of her outfit was severe. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail, and she wore a cat woman’s black latex outfit. She held her head slightly lowered, offering subservience. But… Barron didn’t feel it. His internal warning system told him to proceed with caution, and his Dominant senses insisted: be careful. This woman holds secrets.

“Were you following me?” he snapped.

“No, please forgive me.” She deepened her bow. “I was coming from the ladies’ room.” She pointed toward a purple neon M/F sign in the corner of the ceiling. “I saw Sir trying to see through the glass, and I thought to offer my help.”

“What’s inside?”

“Nothing, Sir. The private rooms are empty until they’re reserved. Once a room is reserved for a scene or scenes, dungeon monitors bring the necessary equipment.”

“If the rooms are supposed to be private, what’s the glass pane for?”

“Well, it’s a viewing window.” Lifting her head, she gave him a tentative smile. “If the players wish to be seen, they open the blinds. May I show you, Sir?”

Barron folded his arms, suppressing the rising irritation. He didn’t want this submissive to address him as “Sir.” He reserved the title for scenes with subbies he liked and trusted, but club protocol forced all submissives to use the honorific. If a Dominant or dungeon monitor overheard her speak to him in casual language, she’d be in deep trouble.

“No. It’s empty, you said.”

“I did, Sir.”

“What’s your name, submissive?”

“They call me Selina, Sir.”

“Not the fantasy name, submissive. What’s your real name?”

She opened her plump red lips, and after a moment’s pause, she spoke. “My name is Iris, Sir.”

“That’s better,” he said and turned to continue his walk.

“May I show you the special room, Sir?”

He stopped in his tracks. Evidently, this submissive didn’t understand body language. With a click of pointy heels on the tile floor, she hurried to his side. “It’s really pretty.”

Slowly, Barron studied her. He picked up a hint of nervousness and anticipation coming from Iris. Maybe she was new to the lifestyle and didn’t know how to transmit submissive signals correctly. Although he knew where she’d offered to take him and didn’t need her for that, the gentler part of him decided to give her a break.

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