Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

N ightshade was busy for a Thursday night. The need for emotional and sexual release had brought out a big crowd, and it wasn’t even ten p.m. yet. Barron and Johnny G moved past a couple arguing about membership fees with Marie, the lady handling admissions at the front desk. Barron waved as he reached the metal security door leading to the dungeon, and Marie nodded. A click indicated the lock had been opened for him. Smiling at Marie, he pushed it in, then let it go when Johnny G walked through.

Entering the dungeon always had a surreal effect on Barron, as if with each visit, he traveled between dimensions. The heavy security door was the gateway between two entirely different environments. On one side, regular human activities, complex, inhibited, and at times tormented, took place. On the dungeon side, dreams and fantasy came alive within a magical world of anonymity and nonjudgmental tolerance. He needed this acceptance to be himself. Whenever the monster in him woke up, Nightshade soothed the urge and he was good again, if not permanently, for a while at least .

“Are you going to your locker?” Barron asked Johnny Gun.

“For what reason?”

“To get your bag.”

“Nah.” Shaking his head, Johnny Gun glanced around the long dungeon. “I came with no expectations, and I’m not after sex either. I’ll go with the flow. A fun spanking session will do the trick. I can use the dungeon equipment. The staff sanitizes everything after use.”

“Evening, gentlemen. Barron, Johnny Gun. It’s been a while.”

Barron recognized the deep voice speaking next to him. Master Darius, Nightshade’s owner and senior trainer, had taken the time to say hello. That was an honor. The impressive bald man towered over him and Johnny G. He wore skintight black latex pants and a strappy leather harness that showcased his ripped chest and arms. In the dungeon’s half-light, his gold nipple bars glimmered against his chocolate-brown skin. Idle tongues murmured that Master Darius had served in Special Forces years ago. Considering his tremendous build, Barron didn’t doubt it.

“How’s the club doing, Master Darius?” Barron shook his hand. “I’ve missed coming. But my president has kept me busy traveling in and out of the state on club business. My schedule has changed, and he’s keeping me in town for a while. You’ll see me more often. You know I love coming to Nightshade.”

“I know. The club’s doing really well and growing. Thanks for asking. Tina and Rosalie have been asking for you. But they’re not in tonight.”

“Have they?” Barron gave a soft laugh. “They’re both great subbies. We’ve had fun together.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you return to Nightshade.” Master Darius turned to Johnny Gun. “We saw you around a couple of times, but then you stopped coming altogether. What’s your excuse? Club business too?”

“Kinda, but not as important as Barron’s business.” Johnny G blew out a breath. “I’ve been helping our tech guy set up his security systems and learning stuff from him. It also felt weird coming without my bud.”

Master Darius gave him a big smile. “I understand. There was a time when my best bud and I didn’t hang out in dungeons without each other. We were an inseparable duo. Did everything together.” He laughed. “I’m over that now. Is Blade going through with the agency?”

“Oh, yeah,” Barron said. “Full steam ahead. We’ll be ready to start by the end of this month or early next. If we have cases to investigate and solve.”

“You’ll be busy. Count on it. I could be one of your first,” Master Darius said.

“Is that so? Why don’t you give me some prelim details?” Barron asked. “We can do research ahead of your visit.”

Master Darius shook his head. “Not ready for that yet. But I’ll be coming by your office soon. Meanwhile, why don’t you check out the improvements and changes in the dungeon?”

Barron scanned the expanse of the room. “Changes? I don’t see anything new.”

“But there are. We bought the business next door, tore down the wall, and expanded the dungeon. That’s why you can’t see the additions from here. We have four private rooms. There was a huge demand for those and a brand-new Littles’ playroom. Age-regression play has grown in popularity, to such a degree that some of our clients were engaging in age play in the main dungeon.” Darius grimaced. “Not a good idea. So we built our age players a private room. I’m not sure if that’s your kink or if you know much about it, but I’d be pleased if you checked it out anyway and gave me your opinion. We consulted experts, and it has all the bells and whistles necessary to please Littles, Middles, and their Daddies and Mommies.”

Master Darius had no idea the effect his words had on Barron. As he explained about the Littles’ playroom, an aching burn wrapped around his heart and squeezed. Slowly, Yoanni took shape deep in his mind in all her glorious beauty. If Blade had told the truth about her, Barron would have to show her this room, hoping she’d enjoy playing in it…

Get your head out of your ass. Yoanni isn’t yours.

He sensed the Master’s dark, perceptive gaze on him. Falling back on his Dominant training, Barron controlled his facial expression and gave nothing away. “Sounds interesting.” He kept his voice steady. “I’ll take a peek while I scope out the situation in the dungeon. It’s been a while, and I’m eager to find an expert submissive willing to play with me.”

“That should be no problem for either one of you.” Darius nodded. “I’m glad you’re back. The Spawn are always welcome at Nightshade. Your membership will remain active for as long as y’all want. Have fun, gentlemen. I’ll see you out on the floor.”

“Thank you, Master Darius,” Barron said as the huge man walked away.

“Now what?” Johnny Gun asked.

Barron shrugged. “I’m a bit curious about the Littles’ room, but I also want to check out the subbies section. Wanna come?”

“Sure. Lead the way.”

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 moaned and 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.

“Okay. I’ll go along for a bit. Show me the room, Iris.”

A tiny squeal escaped her lips. “Follow me, Sir.”

He walked with her in silence. About fifteen feet after they passed the last door, a rosy glow illuminated the hallway.

“What is that light?”

“It’s coming from the Littles’ room, Sir.”

As Barron approached, he couldn’t contain his surprise. The pretty light spilled out because the door had been left open.

“May I touch you, Sir?” Iris asked gently. Barron nodded, and she held his wrist. The need to jerk away from her hit him instantly. Swallowing hard, he controlled the reaction and allowed her to lead him into the room.

A dungeon monitor sat by the doorway, supervising the activity in the room.

“Can we come in for a moment?” Barron asked.

“Are you both playing?” the DM asked .

“We’re not,” Barron replied. “Master Darius asked me to check out the new room.”

“Go right ahead. The dynamic in here is different. Be mindful of that.”

“They won’t know we’re here.”

That was a load of crap, and Barron knew it. Heads had turned with curiosity when he and Iris walked in. But now everyone returned their attention to their play. And what a play this room offered. If entering the dungeon had felt like crossing into a fantasy world, this room was the culmination of that sensation.

The semidarkness of the dungeon remained outside. Soft lights in pink and gold hues illuminated the cheerful space. Furnishings in pastel colors were smaller than regular adult-size to assist in the fantasy. Drawings and pictures of famous fairy tales, stories, and cartoon characters hung on the walls. Stuffed animals of all kinds, shapes, and sizes decorated shelves and were piled in tall baskets throughout the room. There were Legos and assorted games. Three couples, two Daddies and one Mommy, situated throughout the room, played with their Littles. Mommy and her adult boy, dressed in shorts and a baby blue T-shirt, pretended to cook breakfast in a play kitchen. One Daddy listened as his Little, in a cute pink dress, sat cross-legged and chatted happily while conducting a pretend tea party. The third Little, her hair in pigtails, colored a book under the loving gaze of her Daddy. Everyone had dressed their part and were fully engaged in age play.

At the far wall, a closed door caught his attention. He asked the dungeon monitor, “Where does that door lead to?”

“The room on the other side is for adult babies. It has cradles, playpens, diaper bags, and changing tables.”

“I see,” he murmured. Master Darius hadn’t exaggerated. This room had been put together to cater to every age-play need and to keep the play within its own safe environment. Separate from the general population and those who might not understand or care for the kink.

Having seen enough and approving of the room, Barron made a move to exit. Iris held his wrist again. “I can be a little girl for you, Sir.”

He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t think so. There isn’t a single little girl bone in your body. Let’s be real. I know a pain slut when I see one. That’s what’s written all over you, and the outfit you’re wearing is asking for a Dominant’s whip or, better yet, a sadist’s, not a Daddy.”

“You could spank me. Daddies like to spank.”

“Wrong. Daddies discipline. And that comes in many forms. Spanking happens to be one.”

Barron exited the room in a hurry. The last thing he wanted was to get entangled with this submissive’s odd behavior. As he strode past the private rooms’ doors and reached the turn to the main dungeon, an unexpected presence froze him in place. He knew this man, even though he wore a black leather pants-and-vest set without Steel Wolves’ colors. This blond guy, with the SW Wolves’ insignia tattooed on his exposed biceps, was the same biker Weaver had asked Barron to check out during his visit to LaFayette and who’d suspiciously watched his every step.

Nightshade was fair game. The club sat on the boundary between Devils’ Spawn territory and the agreed upon no-man’s land of Savannah. Still, why the fuck would this Wolf come sniffing around a kink club four hours away from his home turf?

As Barron made a move to go after the guy, Iris whimpered behind him. “Please, Sir. I’ll do anything. I’ll be a good submissive.”

Turning, he exhaled in shock. Iris had lowered the catsuit to her waist, exposing both breasts, adorned with hooped pierced nipples. Desperately, she grasped his hand with a strong grip. Before he had the presence of mind to react and yank it from her, she pressed it to one breast and dropped to one knee.

“Stop this.” Barron jerked his hand loose. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Get up. People are watching you.” Quickly, he turned from her, trying to locate the biker again. But he’d lost track of the fucking guy. Shit. Maybe he’d confused the Wolves biker with an innocent civilian? Was his mind playing tricks with him?

“I don’t care. Shame me. Humble me,” Iris begged in a louder voice.

Barron watched her wide-eyed. Iris had dropped to both knees and pressed her hands together in supplication before him. Forgetting the Wolf ghost, he scanned the dungeon, searching for a DM who would help him out of this embarrassing situation.

“I’m not doing this. Iris, stop.”

“I came tonight hoping to find someone like you. I want your dominance. Beat me. Punish me, Sir. Please.”

“What the fuck.” He grasped her arms and tried to make her stand. “Come on, Iris. Get up.”

“No. No!” She fought him.

“Let me help you.” Finally, a DM intervened. He must have been attracted to their rising voices.

“Dude,” Johnny G exclaimed at his side. “What’s going on, man?”

“Fuck if I know.” Barron turned to the DM. “Please help her. She’s distraught. I don’t know why.”

A female dungeon monitor joined their group. “Come with me, dear.” Her gentle voice seemed to soothe Iris. Sobbing and sniffling, the subbie stood at last. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Her mask had wrinkled and seemed on the verge of crumpling as tears tinged black with makeup rolled freely to her chin.

“Did you come together, sir? Is the lady your submissive?” the first dungeon monitor asked while the female monitor ushered Iris to the aftercare section.

“She’s not my submissive,” Barron growled. “She latched on to me, but I don’t know her at all. Don’t you?”

The DM shook his head. “I don’t recall seeing this subbie before. Then again, I only work part-time. My partner, Lydia, might have.” He jutted his chin in the direction Lydia had taken Iris.

As the women sat on an aftercare sofa and Lydia draped a blanket around Iris, covering her exposed torso, the submissive’s gaze linked with his, despite the collapsing mask. A slow sneer lifted one corner of her lips. Barron shivered. Every hair on his body stood on end. Evil lived in that woman. And now, even more than before, he was absolutely certain that was the reason he found her repulsive. Who knows, had he succumbed to her pleas and engaged in a scene, her darkness might have infected him.

And what about the Steel Wolf guy? Fantasy or reality?

Fuck.

Shivering again, he gripped Johnny G’s arm. “Did you find anyone to scene with?” He started walking to the main section of the dungeon.

Johnny G chuckled. “I did. She’s real cute and is waiting for me to come back. She saw the commotion and told me to help you.”

“God, I hope you didn’t leave her strapped to anything.”

“Fuck. Would I do that? I’m not an idiot.”

“I didn’t say you were. Just asking.”

“So where did you find the subbie? That mask is pretty amazing. It’s almost…”

Barron nodded. “Scary-looking, right?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“I was trying to peek into one of the private rooms, and Iris came out of nowhere. That’s her name. She walked with me to the Littles’ room.” He shrugged. “Things were okay until she offered to be my Little for the night, and I said no.”

Johnny G frowned. “You can’t be a Little on a whim. Either you are a Little, or you’re not. We know this. We’ve seen Blade and Cel interact.”

“Yeah, we have.” He ran his fingers up his face and through his hair. “But there’s something else. I could swear I saw one of the Steel Wolves a moment ago. It was the same guy who followed me around in LaFayette.”

Johnny Gun scanned the room. “Is he here now? Where?”

“No. I don’t know. One moment he was there, then I lost him when Iris wigged out.” He rubbed his eye. “I’m just glad it’s over. When she freaked and started begging, I didn’t know what to do. And the more she asked me to dominate her, the less I wanted to do it. It’s like she grossed me out or something.”

“And that’s another thing. You can’t force attraction.” Johnny Gun blew out a breath.

“Plus, there was this strange expression on her face…”

“What kind of expression?”

Barron grimaced, shaking his head. “It’s hard to explain. An evil look. For a moment, I sensed her meltdown was an act. As if she’d planned the whole commotion. And…what if her freakout was on purpose? To stop me from going after the Wolf.” He blew out a breath. “Nah. It can’t be. The guy I saw probably looked like the biker in LaFayette. Nothing more. The chick was just a weirdo.”

“Yeah. There are some real weirdos out there. Good riddance.” Johnny G turned into the wax-play area and moved straight for a pretty, short, blonde wearing a black thong and nothing else. Her smile was lovely, and her pert nipples teased Barron’s libido. His fingers itched with the desire to pluck one erect tip and twist it until the cute subbie whimpered.

Really? And interfere in Johnny G’s scene ?

Shit, he needed to get laid or jerk himself off. When was the last time he’d dived into a tight, hot pussy?

Fuck.

The memory that came back deflated his dick and the rising interest.

“This is Kathy.” Johnny Gun’s introduction diverted his troubling thoughts.

Lowering her eyes, the subbie blushed sweetly. She was perfect for Johnny G. It was time to put an end to this wild night and bow out.

Barron glanced at his friend and sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning. That sub fucked my night. My head’s no longer in this.”

“I’ll go home with you.” Johnny G turned to Kathy. “You understand, right? My buds had a bad experience tonight.”

Kathy’s sweet smile remained, but she couldn’t hide her disappointment. And more power to her, she didn’t complain.

“No, man.” Barron slapped him on the shoulder. “Stay with Kathy. Don’t let that weirdo ruin your night too. Have fun. I can find my way home no problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Barron strode toward the exit. If he didn’t, Johnny Gun would leave with him, and that wasn’t fair to his best friend.

In a few moments, he left the world of fantasies behind and crossed over to humdrum reality. He climbed on his bike and rode out into the night.

The May night was cool and the streets were almost deserted, just the way he liked to ride. Barron headed back to Garden City without a specific destination. Despite the helmet, he loved the rush of air battering his face. Once in a while, he’d think back to the years, long before his riding days, when helmets weren’t mandatory. He tried to imagine how freeing it would have felt to ride with the wind blowing through his hair. Didn’t matter. Despite the enforced safety equipment, riding was still an exhilarating experience. An absolute release for him, and very close to flying. He couldn’t imagine living without his motorcycle.

As he wound through the next few streets, he slowed his speed. Should he be surprised he’d ended up in Yoanni’s neighborhood? Who was he kidding? He should ride away. One more turn, and he’d be in front of her house.

But did he…ride away?

No.

The pull to her was stronger than his will to stay away. Within seconds, he eased his bike onto her sidewalk and stopped, though he kept it on idle. Straddling the motorcycle, he folded his arms on the handlebars and just stared at the dark windows of the cute bungalow. She had to be sleeping. Her work day began early.

Did she dream of him?

He pushed the thought away.

Yoanni had moved here three years ago. She’d told him how she found her house purely by luck and how perfect it was with the back garden where she liked to plant vegetables. In the front yard, she had white dogwoods and a bright pink crape myrtle, now in full bloom.

What the fuck was he doing here? Pining like a teenager. This was his fault. He’d pushed her to break from him, made it impossible for her to stay because, in his opinionated Dominant mind, it was the best thing for her, and yet… He’d regretted his actions since, every day and night. Especially on those fitful, burning nights when his aching heart and mind produced vivid memories of her laughter, her bratty ways, her vibrant personality, and sweet kisses.

Yoanni was Little. What an amazing revelation. Blade insisted she was, and he should know. He’d married one. Had Cutter also known?

But what was Barron supposed to do? How could he bridge the terrible gap between them? The ugly distance he’d created…

A car rushed past on the street behind him and flickered its lights. The driver slowed at the corner and pulled into the driveway. Barron returned to his memories, but another vehicle, this time an SUV, slowed as it passed, then parked two houses down, in front. He sighed. Yoanni’s neighbors were getting nervous with his solitary presence and the way he was staring at her place.

It was time to go home. He’d had enough self-torture and weirdness for one night. Easing the bike to the street, he revved the engine and took off.