Page 12 of For Love & Torture
Chapter 6
Grant
One month later
It’s the first Saturday in November. Portland is experiencing its first cold front of the season. The temperature is down to forty-seven degrees and a light mist moves through the air in ghostly wisps. I stand on the threshold of The Dungeon of Decorum.
It’s opening night.
My dream is coming true. I have accomplished my goal of creating a fortress for people who crave a bit more out of sex and life in general. The stages are set. The private rooms are ready to be filled. The staff is nervously awaiting our members arrivals.
A soft hand moves over my shoulder as someone comes up behind me. “This is it, Grant. I mean, Mr. J.” It’s Isabel.
I turn to find her in a long silky black dress with a thigh high slit up the left side. Her ample breasts nearly spill out of the low cut top, emphasizing the red collar she wears. It means she’s unattainable. She belongs to the house, not to be sold or sampled by any of our members. All the staff members wear the red collars to signify that they’re off limits.
As one of the owners, I wear a ring that shows who we are. A large black stone rises up in the middle of a dragon’s mouth. Red licks of fire are at the bottom of the stone. Red and black, our signature colors and motif.
A red carpet runs from the red door out to the end of the walkway, where our patrons will get out of cars that will soon be parked by our valet service. They’ll come up the walk and step inside the red door where they’ll be greeted by our security personnel. We have everything planned out perfectly.
Our opening night is strictly for male Doms and female subs. There are other nights set up to cater to other types of Dom/sub preferences. Everything is ready and waiting. My skin is aflame with raw energy.
Isabel’s touch is only serving to provoke that energy. Taking her hand, I pull it to my lips. “Your mask is exceptional.” Black feathers are the backdrop for emerald jewels that outline her dark eyes, making them pop.
She moves her fingertips over my mask. “I like the sleek Lone Ranger look you have going on there.”
“Simplicity is always best on a man, I think.” I take her hand away from my face. Her touch is distracting me, bringing out the animal in me who has begun to lust far too much over the raven-haired beauty.
More than once since we began our training, I’ve had to subdue that inner beast who longs for Isabel in a way I can’t allow. Thankfully, she seems to understand that, and when I leave her without any explanation, she never follows or asks me why.
Isabel is a true sub in every way now. Accepting of my short-comings and what I need from her. Not expecting anything more than what I give her.
And I’ve given her plenty, even though she is not technically my sub. A house in a nice suburb of Portland, a new canary-yellow Ferrari, and a wardrobe of the most expensive sexy outfits she could find. Financially, her salary is above average. And I may have popped a few over-the-top bonuses into her account as well.
She deserves it all. She is perfect. A refrain that keeps coming up in my mind.
Isabel is perfect. She is perfect for me.
But I’m not designed to be with any one woman. I’m not sure what insanity lurks inside of me, or when it might show itself. Just as my father must’ve never known that there was something inside of him that would one day destroy the woman he loved.
The other owners join us to greet the first arrivals. A Rolls Royce pulls up, and more cars come in behind it. The gates are opened and our security is allowing our members to come in.
The outside of the club looks like nothing more than a shack, a nondescript structure that’s small in stature. We built it underground, the way I had always intended. The only large building is the parking garage that’s out to one side. Other than that, there’s very little evidence of any type of building in the area.
We want it that way. Our world is considered dark and dangerous. Our people like it that way. So we designed it to be what BDSM dreams are made of.
One by one, our new members arrive. Isabel and I greet them all until the last car pulls away. Then I offer her my arm, and we head inside to see how people are reacting to all our hard work.
Down the stairs we go, into the main ballroom. Isabel gasps as we see the room full of masked men and women, clad in gorgeous dresses and tuxedos. She looks up at me. “Grant, it’s like a scene out of Dante’s Inferno.”
She’s right. With the dim lighting and a crowd of anonymous revelers, the scene is one of intense darkness. A thrill runs through me as I sigh and look out at the crowd I’ve helped to procure. “This is what freedom looks like. Freedom to do what others condemn. Freedom to test our limits, take our bodies and minds to levels that have been deemed dangerous. Shall we adjourn to the dressing room to change for our scene? It’s time to show our members how to put on a show.”
She gives me a nod, and we head off to get ready for the scene we’ve practiced just for this moment.
Isabel and I will begin what will come to be the highlight of The Dungeon of Decorum. Spectacular sexual scenes that will serve to entice even the most demure of individuals.
Let the games begin…
