Shades of Pleasure: Five Stories of Domination and Submission (33 page)

He was mine. My monster. My fantasy lover. My Master of Sin.

This was the way I always imagined him, the way he looked in
my dreams. His black hair was a riot of sexy, playful waves, curling at his
collar. His eyes were fierce, dark and piercing, his nose a straight blade,
cheekbones hard slashes angling up to his temples, and his jaw strong and
masculine. It was a fascinating face, mesmerizing. Not beautiful, but
extraordinary.

Sitting on the floor, before a towering wall of bookcases, I
read further, my index finger skimming across the yellowed page.

Count Konrad von Vidmar was known widely as the Master of
Sin. He held gatherings of dubious nature within the walls of Castle Greh,
welcoming attendees to taste the decadent pleasures that were otherwise denied
them, forbidden in polite society. Some claimed he was not human, but the son
of a demon or possibly a vampire. Mere mortal or not, he disappeared without a
trace at the age of forty...

A man’s passionate moan echoed in the distance, and my
nipples hardened, the fine hairs at my nape standing on end. What were those
sounds? The voices of ghosts or merely the wind whistling between loose boards?
As much as my romantic nature wanted to believe the former, I knew it had to be
the latter.

I went back to reading. ...welcoming attendees to taste the
decadent pleasures...  What exactly did that mean? What kind of carnal
diversions did visitors enjoy within these walls?

Instantly, as if a switch had been thrown, images from my
dreams flashed through my mind, like scenes extracted from erotic movies. Nude
women writhed on beds piled with vibrant hued silk, their arms and legs bound,
their stomachs, backs, and buttocks marred with red welts, their faces flushed
with erotic heat. Lips parted as they sighed in ecstasy.

I sighed too.

Yanking myself from my daydream, I shook my head to clear it
and focused on the fragile book cradled in my hands. Something large crossed
between my back and the gas lamp sitting on the desk behind me, throwing a cold
shadow over me for a moment. Startled, and shivering with an uneasy chill, I
twisted to look over my shoulder.

Nothing.

“Is someone here?” I called out, my voice ruining the heavy
silence. “Gospod Skoda?” I called in Slovenian, hoping the elderly caretaker
had returned and was simply checking on me before going home for the night.

No response.

The place gave me the creeps. Yet, at the same time, its
dubious past and countless secrets beckoned me.

I glanced at my watch, realizing a lot more time had passed
than I’d realized. It was very late. Too late to get a cab to take me back to
the hotel.

Mr. Skoda had offered to let me stay on the premises
tonight, but I hadn’t planned on accepting his offer. Castle Greh was solid.
Safe. But more or less abandoned. The owner was in the process of turning it
into a resort of some kind, but the work had just begun--thus the lack of
electricity in most of the rooms. I wasn’t big on staying in places without
modern conveniences--shower. Phone. Central heat.

Feeling invisible eyes watching me, I snatched up the gas
lamp and hurried through the dusty building. The main entry was closed, and I
found no cars parked outside. I checked my cell. Dead battery.

Shit.

No phone. No ride.

Looked like I would have no choice, now. I’d have to stay.

Luckily, I’d come prepared, just in case. I had the basics
in my bag--blanket, food, water. And fortunately the kitchen, ballroom, and one
or two bedrooms and bathrooms had been restored. I wouldn’t be sleeping on the
floor or using an outhouse.

I headed back to one of the renovated bedrooms, changed into
a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, ate a quick snack and climbed into bed, waiting
until I was so exhausted I couldn’t keep my eyes closed before I cut off the
electric lamp on the nightstand. Instantly, the shadows closed in on me.

Warm fingers stroked my arm, and I sucked in a gasp. A rat?

“The Master is waiting,” a female whispered.

That was no rat.

“We cannot make him wait,” this time, a male.

“The Master will have what he wants, or he will punish us
all,” another female’s whisper.

Was I dreaming?

I jerked upright, blinking. Chills as sharp as claws raked
down my arms and legs. Shivering, I frantically searched the inky blackness,
blinking at the thick darkness as if it would clear away. “Who’s there?” I
scooted back until my spine ground against the headboard, dragging my blanket
with me.

“He has been waiting,” the female whispered.

“Waiting for what?” I asked.

“His slave,” the male said.

I jerked my head to the left and held my breath. “Slave?”
The
lamp. Light. Now.
I snapped the blankets off my legs and scrambled across
the bed sightlessly grappling for the light.

“The Master waits.” This time the female’s voice was behind
me. Too close.

I whipped my head around, and lunged forward, both arms
stretched in front of me. “Who?” I touched nothing but air. But as I flailed,
ice-cold fingers dragged down my arm, nails gently grazing my skin. Something
clamped around one of my wrists.

Eyes wide, heartbeat racing, I fingered it with my free
hand. “What’s this?”

No answer.

A second cuff snapped around my other wrist, and seconds
later, I was yanked across the room, stumbling and blind. Terrified.

“Oh God, please stop,” I begged.

“He has waited long enough,” the female whispered, in front
of me.

“Don’t hurt me, please.” Powerless to do anything else, I
followed the lead of whoever was dragging me down the dark corridor. But I
didn’t do so silently. I plead. I begged. I made promises I could never keep.
My words fell on deaf ears.

We turned left, right. Left again. Down stairs and around
several more corners. I tried to keep track, but after even more turns, I was
completely lost.

Finally, we stopped.

A door slammed shut behind me. I tried to whirl around,
toward the sound, but the tension on the cuffs securing my wrists wouldn’t let
me. My right arm lifted then my left. Metal chains clanked. Something hard and
cold snagged the neckline of my t-shirt and before I knew what was happening, a
bone chilling riiiiip filled the darkness. I swallowed a scream, teeth
chattering, heart in my throat. A cool breeze whisked over my stomach and chest
as the torn material flapped open.

I couldn’t see a thing. It was so dark I was completely
blind. My arms were secured over my head, and I was vulnerable, nearly
powerless, and at the mercy of my captor.

I’ve never felt this kind of stark terror. Tears burned my
eyes, seeped from the corners and trailed down my cheeks.

Who were these people and what did they want from me?

With the absence of sight, my other senses grew more acute.
A soft shuffling signaled the movement of someone next to me. The clatter of
metal told me more chains were being handled.

Another wave of icy panic charged through me. If they
secured my ankles, I’d be even more defenseless.

I felt the knife again, and I froze, too frightened to move.
This time, it slid between my body and the waist of my pajama pants.

“He comes,” a female whispered.

Once more, the sound of rending fabric echoed through the
darkness. And again, flesh that had been covered was bared to the cool, crisp
air. My skin tingled as goose bumps covered every inch of my body, from my
scalp to my feet.

I took a chance, kicking forward, hoping to catch someone.
Surely, if it was too dark for me to see them, it was too dark for them to see
me too. But I made contact with nobody, nothing. I didn’t stop. I thrashed and
kicked and fought. Minutes later, breathless, legs burning and lungs starving
for air, I finally accepted the truth. It was useless. I ceased struggling.

Seconds passed.

Silence.

Thick darkness.

Had I scared them off?

The answer came when that blade returned a third time, this
time piercing the skin between my breasts. “The Master will not tolerate this
behavior, slave,” a male voice warned.

Furious, I spit.

“Prepare her,” the male voice demanded.

“Prepare me for what?” I squeaked, my throat squeezing
tight.

“For pleasure,” the woman whispered in my ear. “Close your
eyes. Relax.”

The blade twisted, the tip biting into my skin, and even
though I would normally writhe with delight, I bit back a yelp. Then it jerked,
and my bra snapped open, the shoulder straps sliding over my shoulders.

More hot tears streamed down my face. “Please stop,” I
begged.

“This is what you’ve been seeking,” the woman soothed.
“You’ll have everything you’ve always wanted. You’ll see.”

How could she know what I wanted?

“What did you say? Who are you?” I asked.

“There’s nothing to fear. The Master knows why you’ve come
to him.”

“Really? How?” Defying all logic, my terror faded. I had
told no one the real reason why I’d come here. And even if I had, I couldn’t
think of anyone who’d pull a prank this devious. I had no idea who the
mysterious woman was. I certainly had no reason to trust her. And yet...I
believed her. I wasn’t in danger. “Is this a game?”

The woman giggled. “The Master’s games are wicked. They make
me wet.” After a beat, she added, her tone more subdued, “It’s time now, for
our slave to submit.”

“Who, me? Submit?”

Unseen fingers explored my body. My stomach. My back. My
face and legs.

A jolt of longing blazed through me followed by an icy sting
of fear. Oh God, this was exactly what I’d been searching for all this time--a
taste of danger blended with carnal heat, the kind of submission no one had
ever demanded from me before. Unlike what I’d found at the bondage dungeon,
this was real. Not role playing. Not an act. Honest-to-God fear chilled my
insides while intense lust licked through my blood.

“He knows your every desire,” the male voice said smoothly,
his low, rich voice making even more erotic promises. Cool metal skimmed over
my hard nipples, and a moan drifted up my throat. Bone-quaking shudders slammed
through my body. Before I could suck in a deep breath, the knife left my
breasts to slip beneath the waist of my panties, the tip grazing the skin of my
shaved mound.

A whimper of pure desperation slipped from between my
clenched lips, and every bit of air inflating my lungs seeped out. Seconds
ticked by, measured by the hammering of my heart.

The knife jerked, and my panties fell from my body.

Nude.

The wicked ecstasy.

“Master,” the female voice said with awe.

A soft light ignited in a far corner of the room, a single
yellow flame. Dancing on a soft breeze. The weak light punched a ragged hole in
the darkness, outlining the shapes of nearby objects. And then the candelabra
overhead flared to life, dozens of flames flickering, dancing.

Finally, I recognized where I was. I was in the ballroom.
But unlike earlier today, half of it was now furnished with modern day bondage
furniture. Kneelers, a couple of benches and tables, a pair of swings and a
wooden cross were positioned in the end of the room where I was tied. The other
side was still completely empty.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

No answer.

I glanced around but saw no one.

Seconds later, one cloaked figure, face obscured, entered
the room through the double doors on the far wall. More people entered behind
him, dressed in historical garb. The women were bedecked in glorious silk gowns
dripping with lace, their faces covered by ornate masks. The men wore dark
suits and masks.

None of them looked at me. It was as if I was invisible.

Music filled the room, and the costumed people started
prancing around to the music, an elegant display of beautiful women and
mysterious men.

Then the one in the cloak came closer. Closer still. He was
male. Large. He stopped directly in front of me, lifted his head. A black mask
hid his face. His gaze caught mine.

I gasped.

He had cool blue eyes, the shade of deep ocean waters. Eyes
like his.

This was...like a dream.

Without saying a single word, he stepped to my side.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Silence,” he warned.

I bit my lip. I knew most people in my position would
scream. Or plead. Demand. Negotiate. Do whatever it took to gain their freedom.
But I didn’t want to escape. I was spellbound. Enthralled.

I watched the dancers.

The music’s pace sped up, the tone changing, and with the
shift in the music, the dance transformed from smooth, controlled elegance to
something more carnal and wild. The men shed their jackets and shirts and the
women gathered their skirts in their gloved hands, dragging them up to expose
bare legs and pussies. The couples kissed, they stroked, they grabbed and
pulled, licked and bit, took and gave. And by the end of the song, the dance
floor was covered with puddles of silk, satin and velvet, and I was caught up
in the dancers’ fever, my body trembling and tight.

I had no idea who these people were or why I was chained to
the wall. I didn’t feel threatened anymore, only aroused and curious. A part of
me longed to be a part of their magical, erotic dance. But more than anything,
I desperately wanted to know who the man was at my side.

In my imagination, he was the Master of Sin. My fantasy
lover.

Once again, the music changed, the tempo slowing, a heavy
bass beat pounding through the room like a heartbeat. It was very sensual
music, and what was already an erotic scene took a dark turn. Some of the
dancers fell to their knees right there, on the dance floor, placing mouths to
pussies or cocks.

Others came closer to me, positioning partners on the
benches, tables, and swings. Arms and legs were shackled. And while I stood there,
riding the currents of desire churning through my body, Masters and slaves,
Doms and submissives played out their fantasies--and mine.