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“Beautiful blonde.”

I had to wonder if everyone in the place suffered from poor eyesight. It was dark in the main area of the club, but surely light enough in the bathroom to see that I was old enough to have graying hair. Of course, there were lots of lucky people who were well into their fifties before they had a noticeable amount of gray, but there were also plenty who found gray at thirty, just as I had and discovered it was beginning to be very noticeable by the time they were approaching forty.

I decided as I left the lady’s room, that I would just make my way to the door and leave. I’d had a drink, chatted with some single guys. It was time to go home.

Rance met me before I’d managed to gain ten feet toward the door. “The table’s over there.”

“Oh ... uh … I got turned around.”

He put his hand on my elbow and led me back to the table.

Trey, Jerico and Nick all stood up when I arrived, which made me wonder if they were just that well mannered, or if they were well aware, dark or not, that I was much older and that was why they were behaving so respectfully. Trey slipped an arm around my waist before I could sit down, moving intimately against me. “Would you like to dance?”

It was a slow dance and I loved to dance. I readily agreed.

I lost track of the time after that. I also lost track of how many drinks I’d had. There always seemed to be a full glass in front of me. The men weren’t just devastatingly gorgeous, they were funny, articulate, intelligent and seemed to have set out to vie for my attention.

“Last call.”

I looked up at the waitress, more than a little stunned. Last call?

“Another round,” Trey said. “Just go ahead and bring us two each.”

Resolutely, I shook my head. “I drove. I really shouldn’t have any more. I’m going to have to sober up just to drive home.” I feared, in fact, that I would have to call a cab—which wasn’t in my budget.

He laughed. “I’ll call someone to come get you.”

I shook my head. “Nobody’s there. I live alone.”

It was a sore point with me. My former husband had been granted custody of our underage children—the oldest had opted to stay with him, as well, though he was now off at college. The judge had assured me that I was not being judged on moral grounds, that it was merely a case of economics—I wasn’t able to support the children. It was hardly fair. My husband made enough to pay child support and that, with my income, would have provided for us. But, in all honesty, the children probably knew their father better. I’d worked two, and often three jobs as they were coming up since I’d been unable to find one that paid enough to keep body and soul together. My husband had been their primary care giver, always home when he wasn’t at school.

It had still crushed my spirit that they had chosen to stay with him, leaving me, at thirty six, homeless, childless to all intents and purposes, and with no future.

Life was hell. I didn’t know why everyone was always going on about being good to keep from going to hell after they died.

The men exchanged glances. I didn’t know whether it was my comment, or my expression that caused the silent communication between them, but I dismissed it. It was better, I’d found, not to dwell on my situation too hard.

“We’ll take you home.”

I suppose it was a testimony to the amount of liquor I’d consumed that that sounded perfectly reasonable to me. They’d been drinking too. They didn’t seem as thoroughly drunk as I now realized I was, but I’d seen the beer bottles come and empty bottles go. They seemed to have been drinking fairly steadily.

Or, maybe, it was just a testimony to my loneliness. I realized I’d been having a lot of fun, a very rare treat for me, and that, like a child, I didn’t want it to end.

I had a serious case of the giggles by the time we finally left the club. We wandered around the parking lot for a while. No one seemed to remember where they’d left their car, but no one was too distressed about it.

Finally, when the parking lot had pretty much emptied, we stumbled upon Rance’s car.

I was definitely drunk, but not too drunk to recognize a brand spanking new Mercedes.

It almost sobered me.

Rance pointed his clicker at it and unlocked the doors. A good natured argument ensued while they discussed whether I’d sit in the back with Trey and Nick, or in the front with Rance and Jerico.

Somehow, I found myself wedged between Trey and Nick in the back seat. I gave Rance my address and he drove off.

We drove for quite some time. It seemed like rather a long time to me, but I really couldn’t see much from where I was sitting, and, truthfully, was still too inebriated to focus very well. Finally, I decided to voice my doubts. “We should be pretty close to my place now.”

Rance glanced back at me. “I’m going to stop by my place first. It won’t take long. You don’t mind, do you?”

The next day was my day off. It really didn’t matter, except that I found that I was tired now and wanted to go to bed. I told him I was fine with it.

I fell asleep, although, all things considered ‘passed out’ might have been a more accurate description.

When I woke it was as if I’d stepped through a hole into another dimension, or another world.

I felt drugged, disoriented. It took an effort to open my eyes.

When I was finally able to focus my vision I only became more disoriented. I should have been looking up at the ceiling. Instead, after several moments passed, I realized I was staring down at the floor.

This so defied logic that I spent several minutes trying to figure it out before I decided to look around.

The room I found myself in was dark. The lighting was strange, and I finally realized it was a black light.

Around me, the room seemed to be painted in unrelieved black, the floor, the walls … I discovered I couldn’t see the ceiling.

I discovered I couldn’t move at all.

Someone, however, had noticed that I was awake—not too alert, but awake.

“Welcome to the dungeon.”

I jerked, instantly recognizing Rance’s voice. Turning my head as far as I was able, I saw a figure in the dark. Slowly, he began to move forward, nodding to someone I couldn’t see.

I heard a sound, mechanical in nature, and felt myself slowly coming upright.

I was too stunned by what I saw, however, to pay much attention at first.

The voice was familiar. The figure approaching me wasn’t.

He was almost completely naked. Dark leather bands crisscrossed a broad, muscular chest. Silver studs formed a pattern along the bands, but they looked rather more like thorns than beads, which seemed an odd sort of ornamentation. As he moved closer, I realized that his groin area was bare. Two thin straps were wrapped around the tops of his thighs, but they seemed designed to cup his sex, making it more noticeable.

He was semi-erect and it was an intimidating sight. Fully erect, his cock must be huge.

I couldn’t help but stare at it. I was twenty years past my virginity, but I had never seen but one in my entire life before and my former husband’s cock looked like a child’s toy beside the jutting monster staring at me now with one dark eye.

“The rules of the dungeon are simple. I am the dungeon master. If you please me, you will be rewarded.

If you displease me, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

I looked at him blankly. In truth, he might have been speaking a foreign language.

I discovered then that he was holding a whip. He snapped it. “Do you understand?”

I gulped, suddenly terrified. “I … uh….”

“Silence slave! You are not to speak unless I give you permission.”

It took me a few moments to figure that one out. Finally, I nodded.

He smiled. I had been so mesmerized by his cock that I hadn’t realized until that moment that he was wearing some sort of hood. It covered his head and the upper part of his face, with cut outs for his eyes, leaving only the lower part of his face completely visible.

My heart thudded against my chest wall in fright. I gasped for air, but couldn’t seem to pull enough into my lungs. Something was constricting my ribs, but I couldn’t move my head enough to see what it was.

Rance—the dungeon master—seemed to sense my fear and confusion. He nodded, apparently another signal. The room brightened slightly, enough that the walls became visible—and the other three men.

Each was dressed in leather, similar to Rance, but each costume was slightly different. Neither Trey or Nick wore hoods, but they were wearing masks that covered the upper part of their faces.

It didn’t matter. I was no longer disoriented. I knew that I had become captive to the four young men from the nightclub.

What I didn’t know, and very much feared, was what they intended to do with me.

I was not left to wonder long, however.

As if on cue, they stepped aside and I found that I was staring at a woman I didn’t recognize. She was bound, spread eagle, to some sort of x shaped contraption, her wrists and ankles manacled. Except for the glistening black corset that covered her from just below her breasts to about mid-way down her hips, she was naked, her sex shaved and as bare as a child’s. Her hair was blond, hanging loosely around her shoulders.

I turned my head to look at Rance.

She turned her head, as well.

I knew then that I was staring into a mirror. I’d guessed as much but hadn’t wanted to accept it.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on? What’re you doing?”

“Silence! You are not to speak unless you are given permission!”

My jaw dropped as the whip snaked out, striking me on the thigh. I winced, expecting momentarily to feel pain. It stung, but, thankfully, it was not a leather whip as I’d feared. It was soft—cloth?

Relief flooded through me. It must be some sort of game then. Maybe they didn’t intend to actually hurt me—the question was, what did they intend to do?

I had a fair notion that I knew what it was, but could not decide how I felt about it.

Dimly, it occurred to me that I should be terrified, outraged, furious. Instead, curiosity seemed to be uppermost—well, anticipation, hopefulness, but definitely curiosity placed somewhere in there.

“Move the slave to the table,” Rance commanded.

At once, Trey and Nick stepped forward, knelt and released my legs from the manacles. When they stood up again, they reached for the manacles on my wrists. I tried to pull free then, giving in to my instinct to flee, but they held me firmly, half carried, half dragged me over to a small bench.

I was forced down on it, face down. My wrists were secured once more, this time to a bar that extended to either side of the bench. There were metal rings on either side of the corset I was wearing.

I’d noticed them, but hadn’t considered what they might be for.

I discovered that they were not for ornamentation when the two men clamped them to the table, making sure that I was firmly grounded at the waist.

They grasped my ankles then, spreading my legs so wide my groin muscles complained. Manacles were secured around my ankles and I discovered I couldn’t put my legs together. I retained some movement, but not enough to kick out at either of them.

The bench was padded but far from comfortable. It was short, about the same length as the corset I was wearing. My head, shoulders and breasts dangled unsupported at one end, my hips at the other.

I would’ve been embarrassed at my predicament at any other time, but just now I was too stunned to feel embarrassed.

Rance moved to stand in front of me. His cock was just below my face. It filled my vision, driving thought from my brain.

“You will please me and my friends, slave. Do you understand?”

He repeated the phrase twice before it sank in. I nodded, finally, for it had been born in rather clearly that they would not all be here if they did not all expect to enjoy themselves. The only point I wasn’t certain of was what I’d be expected to do besides lay there and let them please themselves.

The whip slashed across my bare buttocks. This time it definitely stung and I realized it could hurt if he wanted it to. “Do you understand?”

I nodded more vigorously.

I could hear movement around me and braced myself, knowing any minute I’d feel penetration as they took turns with me. I should have been horrified at the idea, but the plain fact was that I had grown accustomed to having sex while I was married. I had not had so much as a boyfriend since I’d been banished from paradise. I was needy.

These men were absolutely gorgeous, each one of them, and I had been told I would have them all.

I wondered if I should object, just on principle, but decided that I’d much rather have the sex than another swat with Rance’s damned whip.

I waited, feeling my sex grow damp with anticipation.

Moments passed, and still I waited. Finally, Jerico came and sat cross legged beneath me. In a moment, Nick joined him. Rance was still in front of me so I supposed Trey was to be first.

I was a little puzzled by that. Rance seemed to be the leader—had called himself dungeon master—so why wouldn’t he be first?

Not that I was particularly anxious to have him fuck me. His cock was so huge it was downright intimidating. I’d had ample opportunity to study all of them. Not one was suffering in manliness … the smallest of them was far above what I’d heard was supposed to be average … but Rance was still noticeably bigger and I was more than a little unnerved by his command that I must pleasure them all when all included taking on something that huge.

I felt the bench I was on tilting slowly until my hips were lifted so high I had to come up on tiptoe, and still it rose. It stopped when my toes left the floor, when I no longer had any sort of balance or leverage. The chains holding the manacles around my ankles were pulled taunt as it rose up and I found I could no longer move my legs in any direction.

The front had tilted down.

Rance’s cock nudged my chin.

I waited tensely, wondering if I would be commanded to receive before I felt Trey’s cock penetrate my sex. Everything so far had been disturbingly ritualistic, so I would not have been surprised if that had been the case. I wanted him to. I wanted to enjoy it, but a serious case of nerves had dried the moisture in my sex as it had the moisture in my mouth.