Page 22 of Not Safe For Work

Chapter 6

My house wasn’t much compared to Rick’s, but that was hardly going to be a surprise for either of us.

After I’d showed him around briefly, I took him to the basement door. “Just so you know,” I said, “this is the only one between here and the front door that locks, and that’s only so my kids don’t stumble across anything.” I opened and closed it a few times. “It’s unlocked now, and it’ll stay that way.” Gesturing down the stairs, I added, “The door to the actual room closes but doesn’t lock. You can leave any time.”

Rick nodded. “Good to know.”

Our eyes met. If he was nervous, he didn’t let it show.

I started down the stairs. All the way down, I couldn’t help grinning—I always got a little thrill out of bringing someone into my “dungeon” for the first time.

At the dungeon door, I turned around and gestured at a small table pushed up against the wall. “You can leave your clothes there.”

Rick tensed. “I beg your pardon?”

I nodded toward the table. “Leave your clothes there.”

He watched me for a second and then started unbuttoning his shirt. My cock hardened as Rick stripped off his clothes. He worked quickly, neatly folding them and tucking his tennis shoes under the table.

“Good.” I put my hands on his sides and lifted my chin to kiss him gently. “Nervous?”

“A little.”

“Still want to do this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thought so.” I pulled him into another kiss. His skin was hot even through my clothes, his cock thickening between us. I was already hard just from watching him undress, and the longer I kissed him, the more I debated fucking him right out here in the hallway. Or putting him down on his knees and fucking his mouth again. Jesus, that mouth of his. So talented. So eager.

I pushed myself off him before I got too carried away, and reached for the door. As I did, I flashed him a grin. “Welcome to the dungeon.”

He gulped, and I pushed open the door.

I went in first, gesturing for him to follow me, and quietly let him take in his surroundings.

I’d never been fond of the dungeons that showed up in pornos. They were always cold and sparse with a lot of bare wood and concrete, like something that could double as a horror movie set. That just wasn’t the ambiance I wanted. After half a decade of work, my basement/dungeon was my ideal place for kinky scenes.

The atmosphere was nothing like any other dungeon I’d been to, and exactly like I wanted it. The floors were covered with thick, black mats, the kind weightlifters used to keep from denting the gym floor. I did have one small area of bare concrete, but that was only really used to punish submissives who’d misbehaved and needed to kneel on a cold, hard surface until they were ready to try again. Everywhere else, though, I preferred some padding in case someone stumbled or collapsed. And, hell, I wanted to be comfortable too—concrete was murder on the knees, especially if I had to be on my feet for any length of time, which I usually did.

The windows had all been covered so the neighbors couldn’t see in, but I’d had false windows painted on the walls. Judging by the number of subs who’d eyed those “windows” during scenes, the illusion had the intended effect—making them feel exposed and in full view of anyone who happened by. Of course, if a sub was truly uncomfortable with that, the false windows could be covered as well, but I’d had quite a few who liked it. Some who really got off on it—on being naked, tied, fucked and believing that at any moment, someone could see them like that.

Along the walls were cupboards where I kept everything from bondage tape to bandages, not to mention an ample supply of lube and condoms. A case of bottled water, a first aid kit, lotions and massage oils—I had everything down here. We could survive the apocalypse and never run out of entertainment.

I was quiet for a while, letting Rick take in his surroundings and the vulnerability of standing here naked in a room like this. He was still obviously turned on, but he was difficult to read aside from his wide eyes.

Finally, he took a breath. “This is impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ve got a little of everything, don’t you?”

“I’ve been accumulating it for a few years. Amazing how quickly a handful of toys turns into”—I gestured at the racks—“that.”

“Sounds like me with books.” He chuckled. “A little stack suddenly turned into a library that has even bigger stacks on the floor because I’ve run out of room.”

“Yeah, that’s about what happened here.”

“So I see.” As he looked over everything on the rack, I watched all the places his eyes stopped—the spreader bars. The Wartenberg wheel. My modest collection of cock cages.