The Agreement (Unrestrained 1)

I was shocked by the explicitness of the scene, and everyone watched like we were children watching something we weren't supposed to.

"…not allowed to come until I give you permission…" I managed to hear the Dominant say.

Drake and I stopped for a moment and he stood behind me. "Cock and ball torture," he whispered in my ear. "I can feel myself shrink just watching it."

I smiled, thinking of him shrinking. It was clear that the sub enjoyed what was happening. He had a huge erection, and I suspected he was close to orgasm by how rigid he was, the way his face was red, his breathing fast.

Drake took me to a room where a Domme was busy flogging her male submissive, who was bent over, his hands and feet in manacles. It was then I realized she was Lara – Mistress Lara.

Sadist.

"Master, that's Lara."

"Shh," he whispered in my ear. "Remember your manners. She's in scene right now. Don't distract her. I said she might be here."

"Sorry, Master. That's Mistress Lara." I watched her, fascinated. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Her submissive wore only a leather jock strap and leather boots, a ball gag in his mouth. She stood behind him and lazily slapped his bare ass with the flogger. It was as if she couldn't really be bothered to flog him with any focus.

"Why does she look so bored?"

Drake stood behind me, his arms around my waist. "He's likely into humiliation as well as pain and submission. She's humiliating him by appearing as if she doesn't really care. It's what he likes and needs."

The sub's ass was getting progressively redder as she flogged him with a bit more gusto.

"You. Are. A. Worm," she said, her voice derisive, punctuating each stroke with a word. "You should be wriggling on the ground at my feet, slave."

I turned to Drake. "He likes that, Master?"

"Oh, yes. He's actually a very hot-shot fund manager by day, but in private, he likes to submit."

"She did that to you, Master?"

He smiled. "Yes. I never intended to use these kinds of techniques, but she wanted to see if there was a sadist in me – or a masochist. There wasn't."

As we watched, Lara bent over her sub and spoke to him, whispering in his ear. His ass was thoroughly red. Then she went around beside him and picked up a cane. She ran the cane she held in her hand over his ass, trailing it between his ass cheeks before striking him several times, leaving long streaks across it.

We left Lara's scene and went to another room where a man dressed in leather chaps was busy fucking a woman suspended from a hook in the ceiling, her hands in cuffs above her head, her feet in straps also attached to the ceiling. She wore a blindfold and had a ball-gag in her mouth. I was fascinated with that scene for it was the least violent. It was pure sex, bondage and leather. This I could get into, but then I saw her ass, it was as streaked red. I saw several implements lying on the table next to the wall – floggers, riding crops, canes, tawses. The Dominant was ramming into her, hard, his hands on her hips, pulling her to him with each thrust.

Drake stood behind me, one hand on my belly, the other wrapped around me and resting on my neck as if measuring my pulse and respirations. I knew he was monitoring my response to what I saw, trying to understand what aroused me, what repelled me.

"You like this scene," he whispered in my ear. "Your pulse just increased, your breathing is more shallow. If I slipped my fingers between your lips, you'd be nice and wet. Do you want to try this one day?"

"Yes, Master," I said, butterflies in my stomach. "Except for the ball gag and the cane."

He squeezed me. I held his hands, which were now clasped around my waist.

"What do you think of all this, Katherine?"

"I think that these people need each other, Master," I said, somewhat saddened that they felt a need for pain, but whatever the reason they did, it pleased them. I liked watching. It aroused me, even when there was pain involved. Drake was one of these people. Maybe our kinks weren't so intense as theirs. Maybe neither of us liked pain or needed it, giving or receiving. But we needed submission and dominance. We needed what each other gave.

"I need you," I said quietly, realizing that I was one of these people, like Drake said. He kissed my neck.

"I think it's time to go back upstairs," he said, his voice a bit husky.

"Yes, Master."

He took me back up the stairs out of the darkness with its heavy scent of sweat and sex and other aromas I couldn't name, but would forever be associated in my mind with dungeons. We passed through the bright salon where couples stood and watched demonstrations of various techniques, and through the next room with darker lighting, where people danced to a VJ playing some Latin music, a video being projected on a wall, a mirror ball spinning, casting the room in thousands of sparkles.

We stopped at the edge of the dance floor and Drake took me in his arms and started to dance, placing one of my hands on his hip and the other on his shoulder while he held my hips. We swayed together for a few moments, him smiling down at me.