Out of the Dungeon (29 page)

He walked over to the cross and examined the
wrist and ankle cuffs. Leather buckles attached to shiny silver
chains. Simple enough. He picked up the mic. "Seems I've been
provided with quality equipment. This will be a pleasure." He
flashed a grin at the crowd, then zeroed his gaze onto Jason, who
was still kneeling, looking so rigid that he might snap.

Roman lowered his voice so it came through
the club speakers soft, but firm. "Jason. Come to me."

R
oman watched Jason
get slowly to his feet, and come toward the stage. He stood for a
minute staring up at Roman, and his face had a look of naked fear.
Roman went to a squat so they were eye level. "I am very good at
what I do. There's nothing to be afraid of. Tell me the truth. Do
you consent to this?"

Jason gave a jerking nod, and took a deep
breath that he almost choked on. He was shaking.

"Do you want to do this?" Roman asked
again.

"Yes, Sir," Jason said, eyes wide open, his
pupils so huge they nearly obscured the pretty blue of his
irises.

Roman offered his hand and helped Jason onto
the stage. He led Jason to the cross and positioned him face toward
the wood. He buckled Jason's wrists first, and then his ankles.
"Does anything hurt?"

"No." Jason answered.

"No, Sir," Roman prompted.

"No, Sir," Jason said, in a small, weak
voice.

"The safeword is red. You need me to stop,
say red. You need me to check in or change something, say yellow.
Like a stoplight. Got it?"

Jason nodded. "Red for stop, yellow for slow
down. I got it."

Roman picked up the mic and looked for a DJ.
Saw him, finally, tucked into the far back corner. "Do you have a
headset mic?" he asked. From across the room the DJ shook his head.
"All right, never mind. I need a dungeon mix. Læther Strip, if you
have it, The Cure, umm… Def Leppard, Linkin Park. Guns-N-Roses.
Rolling Stones. You get the idea." He missed DJ Alex, who'd spent
hours of his own time making CDs for Roman to use in the club and
the dungeon.

He turned to study Jason. The boy was
exceptionally tense, but that was easily fixed. Roman put the mic
to his lips again. "I apologize for my state of not being prepared,
but can someone lend me a blindfold?"

He watched Jason tense even more. Tim came
jogging toward the stage, holding a scrap of black cloth. Roman
took the cloth, and set the mic down. Goodbye club, goodbye crowd.
From this moment it would only be himself and his new boy.

He stroked a hand up Jason's back, smoothed
and kneaded across his shoulders, and leaned his chin into the
crook of Jason's neck. "It's just you and me and the flogger now,"
he said into Jason's ear, as he put the cloth over Jason's eyes and
tied it in place. Music surged through the space, the Stones,
hey, you, get off of my cloud,
and it was perfect. "Take
deep, even breaths. Shut everything out and let the music in,"
Roman said, then stepped back and got into position.

The flogger felt beautiful and right in his
hands, and he started with gentle lashes, just getting the feel of
the thing. It thudded nicely against Jason's strong back and
thighs, and before the song was over, Roman could see that Jason
embraced the beat, that he was ready for each thud, and that the
tension was already flowing out of him. As the song faded, Roman
stepped in close again, let his fingers slide along Jason's back,
up to his neck, and said into his ear, "Nice, hmm?"

"It is," Jason said. "It's really nice."

"Ready for more?" Roman asked.

"Yes," Jason said, and bobbed his head.

The DJ seemed to know what he was doing,
because the mix he provided built a steady tension, a progression
toward faster and harder, exactly right for what Roman wanted.
There was music that was good for walking around the cross,
throwing the lashing from in front of the wooden frame, the flogger
tails curling around Jason's sides. Jason startled at that, and
Roman stepped in close for a quick check. "You doing okay?" but he
could see that Jason's mouth was curved into a relaxed smile. He
was doing fine. As Roman got used to the flogger, and Jason got
used to being flogged, the blows came faster and harder, and came
to the point where Roman stood rooted to one spot, swiveling his
hips to flog from the right, then the left, and then the right
again. He was just hitting his groove, floating into top space,
when the song ended, and he almost cursed. DJ Alex would have seen
it, would have started the song over immediately. Roman forced his
body to still, forced his mind back to the moment, the club. He
stepped to Jason and lifted his sweat-soaked shirt. The boy's skin
was pink. "Are you warmed up yet?" Roman asked.

"I'm warm," Jason answered, and even his
voice was loose and relaxed.

"Do you want to feel some pain?"

"Oh, God, yes. Please."

Roman grinned. Oh, yeah, baby. Here we go. He
lifted the back of Jason's shirt and pulled it up, all the way over
his head, exposing his back and shoulders. He walked to the
spanking bench and picked up the mic again, peripherally aware of
the crowd, but only seeing the DJ. "Keep it coming hard and fast
like that last one. You're doing an awesome job."

He walked back to Jason. "You are amazing,"
he said into Jason's ear, then stepped back and waited for the
sound system.

The music came up, crashed over him, and it
felt like the flogger leapt toward Jason's skin of its own accord.
It was all so perfect, so easy, Roman might have been in his
dungeon at home. The tails left hot red stripes across Jason's
back, and the sight flooded Roman with a sense of absolute power.
He was the Master, and this boy would submit until his skin flamed
bright red.

The world went away. Even the music seemed to
go away, Roman's vision narrowing until he saw only the raw, red
skin before him, able to see every twitch and muscle jump, every
rivulet of sweat that disappeared into the waist band of Jason's
jeans. And even though it should be impossible, he could hear
Jason's soft sighs and louder moans, a sharp intake of breath when
the tails hit him just… there. Yes… there. And a humming sound that
came from Jason's throat when the flogger hit him three times in
succession in one place. A humming sound that, when Roman once
again stepped close and rested his chin on Jason's shoulder to
check in, was actually a series of words,
yes yes more more more
yes more.
Roman stroked the bulge in Jason's blue jeans, the
cock that begged for release as warm as Jason's exposed flesh.

Roman could feel his own skin, hot and damp,
and there was the absolute silence inside his head that always came
in the middle of this, that was his very reason for doing it, even
though he often forgot that truth, that he got as much out of it as
his victim did. He stepped back. Just a little longer, just a
little more. And the DJ again was perfect, because while the next
song fit in theme and tone, its tempo was a little bit slower, a
little more gentle, and the changing rhythm eased Roman out of top
space and back onto the stage in this club in Minnesota that used
to be a strip joint.

He slowed the flogger, and decreased its
bite, preparing Jason for his own journey back to this moment in
space and time.

The last song was even calmer and sweeter,
and by the end of it, the flogger tails were just brushing Jason's
skin, caressing it, until Roman let the tool slide from his grasp
so he could run both hands along Jason's back, feeling the heat,
feeling the melting of muscle beneath flesh. He unbuckled hands
first, guiding Jason to hook elbows around the cross beams just
above where they crossed, encouraging him to hold himself up while
Roman freed his ankles. Jason swayed and Roman was just wrapping
his arms around the boy, steadying him, when Tim appeared beside
them with a blanket and a bottle of water. Jason's knees buckled.
Tim helped tug Jason's shirt the rest of the way off, helped get
him wrapped up and off the stage. Roman felt a little bit
weak-kneed himself.

They sat on the floor, leaning against the
backside of the stage, which wasn't really the backside,
considering it was a theater in the round, but they were behind
somebody else's flogging station, and out of the fray. Roman tried
to fix in his head that he needed to thank the DJ and the owner of
the flogger, and then he held Jason tight in his arms and let
himself drift.

After some time, Jason stirred. "Is there
water somewhere?" he asked.

Roman opened his eyes and found the bottle.
He kept his arms around Jason as he opened it.

Jason freed one arm from the blanket and
drank, then passed the water to Roman.

It tasted like exactly what he needed.

Jason stretched and pulled himself away from
Roman, rolled his shoulders up and back, and let out a long sigh.
He turned bright, clear eyes on Roman. "Wow. That was amazing."

"It was," Roman agreed.

"I've been missing out."

Roman grinned. "And I underestimated this
little party. The DJ did a phenomenal job. Tim was ready with a
blanket and water. I felt like I was at home in my own club."

"I felt like I was home for the first time in
my life."

"Thank you," Roman said. "You honor me with
those words."

Jason laughed. "Yeah, well, you did say that
you're good at what you do."

"Only because I love it," Roman said.

"People are going to want to talk to you,"
Jason said. "I want a smoke. And a drink. Can I get you
something?"

"You've given me plenty tonight," Roman said.
"I'll get my own drink. But thanks. Are you sure you're okay, ready
to face all these people?"

"I feel great," Jason said, and his smile was
genuine. "Better than I would have ever imagined, after something
like this."

They stood up, and Roman looked for Tim, to
give him back the blanket, but didn't see him anywhere, so ended up
just folding the blanket over his arm.

"How did I lose my shirt?" Jason asked.

"Oh, it was soaked," Roman said. "I'm not
sure where it ended up. Mine's on the stage somewhere. I took it
off before we started. You can have it."

They walked around the stage, past stations
and seating areas, and people greeted them along the way. Most of
them knew Jason. There were comments, like, "Hey, how's it feel to
be a rookie?" and "I never thought I'd see the day that Jason got
flogged." It was ribbing, but it was good-natured and friendly.
Roman received wide-eyed looks, winks, and even a thumbs up, and he
thought it was funny. One girl rushed right into his space,
gushing. "Oh. My. God. Will you do me next? Please?"

"Roman, meet Precious," Jason said, with a
raised eyebrow and laughter in his eyes. "She comes with a dungeon
mix on her iPod."

Roman remembered some reference to this, from
earlier. Forever ago, when Jason was trying to get out of being
flogged. Roman put his hands on her shoulders, said, "It's nice to
meet you, but you're in my space."

She apologized, also a gush, and stepped
aside. He smiled at her. "I'm done for the night, so maybe another
time. But don't bring the iPod."

"Nice," Jason said, as they moved through the
crowd. "Was that like, an insult?"

"I don't know," Roman said. "Would the
experience have been the same if you were listening to different
music than I was?"

Jason shook his head. "No way. Everything was
perfect. Except I lost my shirt. I kept my pants on, didn't I?"

"Of course. I told you I wouldn't lay you out
naked. This time."

"This time?" Jason asked, with a small smile.
"Does that mean there'll be a next time?"

"I hope so," Roman said, and Jason's
resulting grin warmed him somewhere in the middle of his chest.

Both of their shirts and the flogger Roman
had used were waiting for them on the lounge chair. "I have to find
out who this belongs to," Roman said, sitting down and stroking the
flogger tails. "Your shirt is still damp, so put mine on before you
go outside to smoke. We can't have you catching a chill." A
waitress came by for drink orders, and Jason retrieved his
cigarettes from the table. "I'll be back soon," he said, and
stopped to kiss the top of Roman's head before he turned away.

Roman waited a beat, then touched his head
with his fingertips. Jeff used to press his lips
right there
and murmur, "I love you, you know." Roman could almost feel the
tickle of the words.

Jason was amazing, and Dare could ask for
nothing more in a first-time sub, for a demo or otherwise, no
doubt. But he suddenly missed Jeff with an intensity akin to pain,
and wondered what he was doing here, in this room full of
strangers. Before he could get too lost in that thought, someone
touched his shoulder. "Roman? I'm Victor. And I have to say that
your flogger technique looks like art."

Roman smiled. "Thanks. That's a high
compliment." He fingered the flogger tails that lay across his lap.
"This is an amazing instrument. I think
it
made
me
look good. Do you know who it belongs to?"

Victor grinned. "Me."

Roman lifted the flogger with both hands and
presented it like a gift. "It was a pleasure to wield."

"Keep it," Victor said. "It performed well in
your hands, like it belongs there."

"I can't just keep it," Roman said, stunned
at such generosity. "But I'd be happy to buy it from you." He
gestured to an empty chair. "Join me?"

Victor shrugged, and sat down. "It's a spare.
You didn't get paid to do the demo, so accept it as a trade. I can
make another one just like it. I've heard of you and your dungeon.
It would tickle me to no end if my flogger became one of your
favorite tools."

"It already is," Roman said, accepting the
gift. "How have you heard of me? I mean, I know it's been said that
my dungeon is legendary, but I can't say I believe it."