Dirty Bad Wrong (9 page)

“How long have you been coming here?”

“Five years or so. I started coming here with Jaz, but she doesn’t come so much these days. Any more questions, Sherlock?”

“I think you’ve covered it. Now to see how long I can hack it without running home safe to suburbia.”

“Suburbia? You’re talking about Camden as suburbia?! You’re getting wild in your old age, I’m sure there’s a deviant little Cat in there somewhere, after all.”

“I guess this is the place to find out.” I raised my glass for a three-way toast. “To new experiences.”

“We’re always up for that,” she smiled.

***

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the tension in the room: the shadowy glimpses of couples making it all the way to last base without a care in the world for who saw them. Maybe it was the vicarious buzz from the people heading to the playrooms for more hardcore action. I can’t say for sure what made me so excited when the spotlights on the main floor lit up, but my heart raced in my chest so damn hard I thought it would thump right out through my ribcage.

“Action,” Raven said, giving me a hefty nudge. “Let’s go.”

Alcohol made me brave enough to follow her lead, holding onto her for dear life as she wove her way amongst the spectators. Cara pressed in close behind, pointing out a spare pew in the shadows with a decent view of the stage. My jelly legs were relieved to be seated, wedged between my two guides to watch the action unfold. I dared to cast my eyes around the other viewers, but most were cloaked in darkness beyond the glare of the lights. I couldn’t deny the adrenaline. The whole room was buzzing, and me along with it.

“Who’s up?” Cara whispered to Raven behind my back.

“No idea,” she replied. “Maybe Tyson and Dixie?”

“They’re in playroom two,” Cara said. I saw Raven shrug, then turn her attention back to the floor as a woman took her position under the spotlights. She was pretty. Older than any of us, maybe early forties. A shapely redhead with her hair piled high, trussed up tight in a simple black PVC dress. She was breathing deeply, staring out beyond the crowd at the darkness. There was a serenity to her; a calmness in her stance despite her agitated breath. She swayed gently in her own little trance, her arms graceful like a swan, oblivious to all around her.

A shadow appeared at her rear, looming large through dark drapes. A man. A huge fucking man. Electric nerves pulsed on sight of him, fear and excitement mashing into one heady concoction. A ripple went through the crowd, an excited murmur that fizzed up my spine.

The man was as toned as a gladiator, ripped and raw and ready to fight. My eyes bowed down to his feet on instinct, and slowly I worked my way back up. Heavy black boots. Tight black denim over sculpted legs, hanging low enough to showcase the muscular V of his hips. His abs looked forged from steel, tense and tight under bronzed skin, and his chest, oh my God, his chest. My eyes widened in recognition. A huge tattoo in jet black, curling all the way around his ribs. A multi-headed beast, tribal and malevolent, dancing on his flesh as though it owned every part of him. So
this
was the man with the chimera: the design on Rebecca’s wall, the design I’d looked at every fucking day since I moved in. My eyes shot to his face, searching for the identity of the man who wore such a mark, but there were no answers to be found there. The man was masked, most of his features hidden behind black leather. His eyes were only shadows, dark and sinister, and his hair was slicked back to his scalp, as dark as the rest of him.

I had no idea who the fuck this man was, but I’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

Cara broke my trance, leaning right across me to speak with Raven. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming?”

Raven put a finger to her mouth to hush her submissive, and I caught a flash in her eyes that meant business. Cara sat back in position, content to let the conversation drop, but me not so much. I leant into the silenced Cara, putting my mouth right to her ear.

“Who is he?”

“Masque,” she whispered. “He’s a God here... seriously hardcore. He’s so fucking dirty bad wrong.”

“Dirty bad wrong?”

She smiled at me. “Dirty. Bad. Wrong. So wrong,... but so right.”

Raven grabbed my elbow, pulled my ear to her mouth. “We should go now.”

My stomach lurched. “Why?”

“This isn’t for you. We need to go.”

The words were out at lightning speed. “I want to stay.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into. This scene, here, right now, really isn’t for you.”

“I don’t care. I want to stay.”

We stared each other out for long seconds, and I felt the uncomfortable urge to plead like a child. She looked away as the man known as Masque made a move. He pressed up against his woman and she melted into him, relaxing her head against his shoulder in complete compliance to his will. He wrapped his arms around her, tugging down the zip at her breast. She was surprisingly heavy-chested, loose flesh hanging low against her ribs. I felt my cheeks burn as I watched the path of his hands. He took the zip all the way down, offering her naked body to a roomful of eyes. She was shaved, like Raven, and even from my position I could see how wet she was. I shifted in my seat, burning but fascinated. She looked so raw, so vulnerable in her nakedness before the crowd. Pinned bright in the spotlights, every part of her bared to the world. She looked so real, so authentic. She looked
free
. My mouth dried to paper.

Raven leant in again. “We’re leaving straight after. No arguments.”

I nodded.

Masque tossed the woman’s dress aside, then trailed his fingers down her arms. Her skin goose-pimpled, and she let out a moan as he took hold of her wrists, raising them high above her head. She held them as instructed, not even flinching as he fastened her into the leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling. Her breathing quickened as he retreated to control the hoist; winching the chains up tight until her arms were stretched and spread above her. He returned to test the chains, pulling down on them to check their resilience. They took his weight easily. He pressed his lips against her ear, whispering words I couldn’t hear. She spread her legs, giving more of her weight to the chains above, and he tapped his fingers against her thighs to indicate even wider. She did as he wished, gripping tight to the chains for support as she spread herself as far as her legs would go. He moved to her front, and she tilted her face up towards him, eyes still closed. Her lips parted in silent offering, and he moved in closer, teasing her mouth with the slightest touch of his. I heard a moan as she inched forward, straining for more. He gave her what she craved, a harsh, hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth. Her lipstick was smudged when he broke away, her lips full and puffy.

“He’s a God, isn’t he?” Cara whispered. I could only nod.

He took Red’s breasts in rough hands, kneading her with brutal fingers. She had big nipples, dark and ripe, and huge areola, like chocolate saucers. She rocked into him, sucking in breath as he pinched her nipples. He twisted them, hard, and she flinched, biting down on her bottom lip as he twisted harder still. Finally she cried out and he lowered his head, sucking on her teat like a hungry baby. A hungry baby with teeth. She groaned and shifted in her chains, arching her back into him as he gobbled at her flesh.

“His teeth hurt so bad,” Cara said. “He’s a real biter.” I felt her eyes on me as I shifted again in my seat. “Does he turn you on?”

“I... um... I’m not sure.” I was lying and I knew it, a stranger to myself, compelled by alien desire.

“He’d do it to you, you know... I know he would,” she smiled. “Do you want him? His pain feels so good.”

Raven leant across, yanked at Cara’s hair. “Enough,” she hissed.

I focused back on the stage. Masque retreated behind the drapes, returning with a long length of cord which he hung loosely around Red’s neck. He took a breast in his hand, and proceeded to bind her, loops of cord cutting in until her soft flesh turned hard, swollen with blood. He repeated his efforts with the other, then bound them together where they turned darker still, jutting out like two pink warheads. He grunted his approval, teasing and flicking her thickened nipples until Red was twitching on the spot.

“That feels so good,” Cara breathed. “You wouldn’t believe how amazing he makes that feel. You can cum from that, you know, if it’s done right. A nipple orgasm. He’s done it to me.”

“Cara!” Raven seethed. “One more word and I swear you’ll be one fucking sorry bitch.”

I heard soft squelches from a couple to our rear, the scent of sex heavy in my nose. Cara leant against my shoulder, positioning herself out of Raven’s view. She whispered so quietly I could hardly hear her. “Play with yourself if you like. Everyone does... or we could do it for you.” She placed a hand on my knee and I clamped my legs shut instinctively, embarrassment burning my face.

Masque upped the ante on stage, brutalising Red’s swollen breasts. He slapped them hard, and loud. Hard enough to make Red whimper. She jerked under his assault, her head lolling back in pain, but she was smiling. He ceased his attack long enough to slide his hand between her legs, and she moaned like a whore, grinding herself against him. He played her for long seconds, and I saw his fingers disappear inside her, four of them.
Four.
I sucked in breath at the sight. More words in her ear, then she was nodding. A smile. Deep breaths, her chest rising and falling in anticipation of something. He retreated once again behind the drapes. I strained for sight of him.

“Here we go,” Cara breathed again.

When Masque returned, he came armed. A collection of implements like the ones I’d seen in Raven’s room. I recognised some of them, a flogger and a horse whip, and some wooden paddles that looked as thick as chopping boards. And a cane, a long, thick cane with a leather handle.

“The cane’s his favourite,” Cara murmured. “I can’t take it though, hurts too much.”

He brandished a flogger with long suede tails and knotted ends, flicking her back gently before starting up his momentum, big arcs over and over, building up speed until they connected. She moaned at the first hit, but relaxed into it, adjusting her weight to steady herself. I heard the swish as the tails hit, over and over. Sometimes they’d curl around her body to lash at the soft skin on her ribcage. She’d jerk then and hiss out all her breath. She began to rock in her chains, losing herself in the rhythm. She cried out as he changed target, whipping the flogger hard between her legs to bite at her pussy. She squealed when he caught her clit, clenching her legs tight against the assault.

He yanked her head back by her hair, his mouth at her ear. I caught his low bark, the most dangerous sound I’d ever heard.

“Your cunt is mine, Violet.
Mine.
Don’t you dare fucking hide from me.”

Her name ricocheted around my brain.
Violet.
She spread her legs wide again.

“I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.”

Another direct hit and this time she squealed like a banshee but didn’t clench. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the chains above her head, taking everything he dished out. He landed a particularly nasty blow and she really wailed, gulping in air like a fish as her knees trembled underneath her. Still she didn’t shield herself from him.

I felt heady, dizzy, reeling at both the scene before me and the pulse between my thighs. My hands felt clammy.
I
felt clammy.

Finally he stepped forward enough to soothe her with his fingers. She wheezed at his touch, murmuring words I couldn’t decipher. He asked her a question and she nodded.

“Please, Master. Please.”

He buried his fingers inside and this time he ploughed her rough. She loved it, moaning for more as he stretched her open, and moaning harder still as his other hand strummed her clit at the same time. He stopped as she began to peak, and she wailed out a groan of disappointment.

“Tears first, Violet,” he barked. “Cry for me.”

My stomach turned over itself, and there underneath the nerves was a primal need I’d buried for years. I checked either side to find both Raven and Cara engrossed by the show, and then, slowly and ever so quietly, I slid my hand between my thighs. 

***

James

The beast raged, twisting through my muscles. It bayed for tears, and beautiful, beautiful pain. It bayed for Violet’s broken flesh. She strained her head as I swished the cane, eyes wide with anticipation, and fear. A gorgeous combination.

“Master... I...”

“Tears, Violet. You’ll cry for me.” I hardly recognised my own voice.

She took long, deep breaths and I took a moment to feel the room. It thrummed all around us, alive with sex. Violet tensed her shoulders. “I’m ready, Master.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“Pain, Master, please. I need pain.”

“Beg.”

I paced to her front, slow and deliberate. She couldn’t take her eyes from the cane, flinching every time I let it flick in my grip. I’d planned a long warm-up, priming her with both paddle and crop until she was floating on endorphins and ripe for the strokes, but no. The beast had his own plan.