He looked at her hard before speaking, as if deciding just how much he wanted to reveal about this place. “Come, I want to show you something.”
They walked over to the wall with the enormous built in book cases. He pressed a button on a small remote control and the wall slid to the left, revealing a hidden room.
The chamber was made of solid concrete walls, on which 5 large television screens, all dark at the moment were attached. Beneath each screen was a room number from 1 to 5 and two small buttons, one red and one green. All five glowed red. A single Baroque style chair sat in front of a large computerized console, complete with a very large keyboard. Five blue tooth ear pieces sat neatly in a row.
Jesus Christ
, she thought,
I’m in a twisted, pseudo-sexual version of mission control
.
Houston, we have a problem!
“What the hell is this
, Dorian? Do you
spy
on people in those rooms? Is that what you are, a voyeur? I don’t even know what to say.”
“I said I’d tell you everything about e.Vampire and I’m doing just that. This is the dungeon monitoring room, well one of them anyway. There are five in all. Malachi and three others have them.”
“So you sit here and watch people have sex.” She was appalled. “Why?”
“I assure you, I’m not a voyeur. It’s not my job to watch the rooms. We have dungeon monitors to do that. I don’t even watch the masked balls most of the time. It was only because I saw your profile and membership application that I bothered to watch that night.”
“What are . . . dungeon monitors?” She whispered, shocked.
“Dungeon monitors are individuals highly trained in BDSM safety. It’s their job to make sure things don’t get out of
hand. They ensure safe play. If someone goes beyond the limits, where there’s a possibility of serious injury or death, they step in and put a stop to it.”
She took a sip of her champagne, thought better of it and downed the entire glass. She stared down at the empty glass, unmoving. Dorian took the glass from her hand.
“Would you like another drink?” He asked politely, as if they were in some fine restaurant instead of this sexual twilight zone.
“Um . . . yes, please.” She didn’t dare look at him, couldn’t look at him. And yet, she knew he was watching her like a hawk.
He brought her drink and handed it to her. “Are you ready?”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded, her head still down as she sipped on the drink. The first glass had already gone to her head and she felt pleasantly buzzed.
You can do this,
she thought. She had to know exactly what he really meant by “adventurous sex.”
They stood in front of the five doors. Dorian pointed
down at a white marble rectangle about 6 inches in diameter. One of these was in front of each of the doors. “These light up when the room is occupied.”
“I didn’t see th
ose when I was here.” She glancing around, looking at anything to avoid looking at him.
“You probably didn’t notice them. The light is very subtle, but those waiting for a room to open up watch them. They probably blocked your view.”
He paused. “Look at me Jennifer,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to go in there if you don’t want to.”
She met his gaze head on. “Oh, I want to see it. I don’t care about what you’ve done with others in
there. Well I do, but I don’t want to dwell on that. I need to know exactly what you’d with
me
in there. Is this what you meant by adventurous sex?”
“Adventurous isn’t mutually exclusive with pain. You think I’m going to hurt you, don’t you?” he asked solemnly.
“I don’t know what to think!”
“Do you want to know why I rejected your membership, Jennifer? I mean, besides the fact that I wanted you all to myself?”
“Oh, there’s another reason?” She asked sarcastically, taking another sip of champagne. The more she drank the snarkier her remarks were. “Do tell. I’m all ears.”
“Because I was certain you had no idea what you were signing up for and there was no way in hell I was going to let any of our members lay a hand on you.”
“Oh.” She put her head down. “Thank you. I guess.”
“These rooms are called public dungeons, which sounds as if anyone can use them. But that’s not the case. They’re open only to members. The reality is people become members for
this.
Not dating. The masked balls are a way to meet others, but this is what they really want.”
“But the website said . . .”
“Do you remember what the home page
really
said, Jennifer?”
Hot vampires who will satisfy your every fantasy! My God,
my comments about this place being a sex club were accurate!
She thought.
“
I only went because of Julie. She knows I’ve dated from online sites and met some horrible men. I didn’t even want to come, but then I saw your picture and I wanted to meet you. I had no idea about all this.” She waved her hand in a sweeping motion. She felt her face burning as if it was on fire. Something dawned on her then. Her stomach lurched. Did Julie know what this place really was?
“Julie,” she whispered, stunned by the revelation. Her shock
quickly turned to anger.
“She brought me here knowing full well about it. So much for friendship. What a fucking bitch!”
“You’re wrong about Julie. I don’t think she knew what this place was either and she is your friend. What did she do, really? She brought you to the dance. And no-one approached you asking you to have sex with them, did they?”
“But she’s a member, which means she engages in this sort of thing.”
“No, she’s not a member. Her application was rejected as well, but not by me, by the judges. Every now and then people like you and her come to the masked balls totally unaware of what e.Vampire is. Those applications are automatically rejected. The judges can tell by the comments on your profile if you’re into this sort of thing or not.”
“She never said anything about being rejected to me. I wonder why.”
“Maybe she didn’t care. She seems quite taken with Ian.”
That was probably true.
I was upset about the rejection because I felt rejected by Dorian, not e.Vampire.com,
she thought
.
“I know you’re having a hard time with all this, but I really want to be honest with you. The members here do not do anything as awful as you’re probably imagining right now. That’s why we have the dungeon monitors.
Every now and again, we get those who practice hard core BDSM, people who like to inflict serious injury and humiliation on others and those who like submit to it. We don’t allow it. We have rules. They’re stopped and thrown out of the club. As for adventurous sex, you and I have already had some sexual adventures, wouldn’t you say?” His voice was hopeful.
“Yes. I like what we’ve done, but this . . . .” She took another gulp of champagne. It was almost gone. She felt her head spin and her body relax involuntarily.
A scene flashed in her mind of Jack, the last guy she’d dated and his fun factory.
I wouldn’t hurt you unless you want me to,
he’d said. The expression on his face told her that he wanted her to say yes, I want you to hurt me.
She posed the question to Dorian. “What if I
wanted
you to hurt me? Would you?” She was beginning to slur her words ever so slightly.
He took the glass away. “I think you’ve had enough.” He walked to the marble and mahogany credenza she’d admired the night of the dance and set down the half-empty glass.
Watching him walk back toward her, he looked so handsome he took her breath away.
He took her face in his hands, lifted it and captured her eyes with his.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said gently.
“Why not?”
“The only reason you’d ask me to hurt you is because you think it’s what
I
want and need. Neither is true.”
Chapter 18
Dorian opened the door to room number 1 and led her in.
She was totally surprised. The room was windowless with pale gold colored walls. Elaborately carved dark bronze candle sconces wrapped around electric candles washed the room in a soft and sensuous hue.
The furniture was all Baroque, a style which used many details to provide drama, tension, grandeur and even power. Some considered the style overly busy and byzantine. In this room, it was perfect. The carpet was a very plush chocolate brown and the whole room was immaculate.
In the center was a king sized bed. She stared at it in wonder. The head and footboards were black and laced with gothic type carvings. A deep purple velvet coverlet, with light purple edging graced the top. Deep brown pillows completed the ensemble. On all four posts were wrist and ankle cuffs in the same deep purple.
It was actually quite beautiful in a disturbing sort of way. It reminded her of a royal bedroom, albeit, a kinky one.
There were pictures on the walls, also Baroque in style. The subjects were shocking to Jen.
A large picture framed in brilliant gold was none other than that of
The Adoration,
a religious portrait done by Peter Paul Rubens. She knew it well. It was one of her favorites. Another painting displayed the Saint Andrea Church, a structure created by Bernini, one of the most famous architects of his time. The Catholic Church used him to design many of the buildings in Italy.
“Not what you expected
is it?” he asked, watching her stare at
The Adoration
. “It’s not a medieval torture chamber. That’s what you thought it would be, wasn’t it?” He didn’t say this mockingly or with pride. His voice was calm, matter of fact even.
“It’s . . . .”
And then she saw it! How could you miss it? She staggered backward, right into Dorian.
“Oh my God! Is that a Saint Andrew’s Cross?”
She asked, her eyes wide in disbelief. She stared at the large wooden X shaped cross fastened to the wall. Shackles were attached at the outside ends of the boards, two at the top and two at the bottom.
It was Dorian’s turn to look surprised. “You know what a Saint Andrew’s cross is?”
“Yes. I was raised as a Catholic. This is the cross that Saint Andrew was said to be martyred on. It’s been a long time since I sat in a Catechism class, but I remember something about it. And what
exactly
do you use such a thing for?” She turned swiftly and faced him.
“We call it an X-frame. It’s the most common piece of equipment used by BDSM followers.”
“So, what do they do, whip people on it?
Jesus Christ!”
Her eyes swept the rest of the room. On a rack hung leather whips, chains, large and small paddles, riding crops, hand-cuffs and even rope. There were a number of hoods and masks sitting atop wig stands.
“Yes. If the person wants to be whipped, they are placed face forward on it. The dominant flogs the one who agrees to submit to it.”
“And . . . facing front, what is that for?
“That’s for play, sexual teasing and fucking. One partner is restrained at the wrists and ankles in a spread eagle position while the other pleasures them.”
“They don’t whip someone in that position? Why?”
“Because we don’t allow it. I told you, there are rules. You asked me to do what I wanted to do with
you
in here. First, it’s imperative that you listen to everything I tell you to do. And you must trust me. Do you trust me, Jennifer?” His eyes had a predatory gleam in them. It scared and excited her.
“Why do you always seem to be asking me to trust you?”
“I want your trust. And because, it’s necessary in this room. You’ll be totally vulnerable to me. Can you handle that?”
She looked around the room. There was a cage and a small bench. Would he do such a thing as put her in a cage? She shivered in disgust at the thought of it. If he knew her at all, he’d know
she’d find such a thing utterly repulsive and she was sure she didn’t need to ask if he’d ever been in it. A dominating, control freak like Dorian would
never
allow himself to be caged.
She looked him in the eye with as much confidence as she could muster and said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you know if I trust you
after
we leave this room, not before.”