The Plume: The First Anthology (16 page)

Joanna saw other slaves hung at intervals from the same device, struggling against their bonds as they were moved toward a mysterious destination. She wondered which one was the man who had almost humped her in the van and couldn’t guess. She could see about fifteen other slaves.

They were in a warehouse with glass block windows and a concrete floor, but it looked more modern than the one where she’d met the Master. It was also more brightly lit. She struggled instinctively as she was carried through the space, knowing it was futile but unable to stop herself.

She saw that the track divided ahead, and that the slaves were dispatched in different directions. The guy ahead of her was carried to the right, through a slit to a dark space beyond. Joanna heard the click of the routing and glanced down at the hooded guard beneath her who was operating the device. The chain jerked over her head and she was carried to the left, when the track descended through a hole in the floor to a shadowed realm.

She didn’t know where she was being taken or why the slave in front of her had gone somewhere else. In fact, all of the other slaves seemed to be routed to the right. She felt singled out. She struggled with renewed power, making no difference to her situation, and tried to scream as the velvety darkness closed around her. She glanced back at the light shining through the hole from the floor above her and saw the silhouettes of two guards. One – the one who had touched her? – waved to her cheerfully.

“Later, sweetheart,” he growled.

“Much later,” agreed the other. They closed a trap door with a clang, sealing out the light and locking her in darkness.

Joanna had arrived in the Dungeon.

* * *

The mechanism overhead stopped and Joanna’s feet were lowered to the ground. Her arms were shaking from the strain of her own weight, but she didn’t dare try to lower her arms. She was lowered only so that her feet touched, so she had little choice. She could feel the chill of concrete all around her, but with her hands still fastened overhead, she couldn’t move. She strained her eyes to see some detail of her surroundings but the darkness was almost total.

Her gag was removed in the silken darkness by someone behind her, someone with deft fingers. Joanna would have opened her mouth but a fingertip landed solidly against her lips.

“Silence,” a woman hissed.

Was Joanna being stolen? Or was it simply imperative that she be obedient? She didn’t know, so she remained quiet.

A light was turned on with a click, a small spotlight that shone into Joanna’s eyes. She caught a glimpse of a tiny woman’s silhouette, her outfit the same black leather combination as that of the guards overhead. Joanna closed her eyes against the light as the woman fitted a heavy leather collar around her neck. It was lined with softer leather, a good three inches high, and the woman fussed over the fit. The click of the lock and the weight of the collar itself made Joanna’s heart skip.

Shackled in the Dungeon.

The woman worked briskly, her silence and her hood making the whole thing surreal. She untied the rope at Joanna’s waist, then fastened a thick belt there instead. It also clicked when it was fitted into place, its width and weight as confining as a corset. Joanna stole a glance at it and was startled by the contrast between its black heft and her skin. There were silver rings secured to it at regular intervals.

So the Master could do what he wanted with her. She swallowed.

The woman then unhooked Joanna’s hands from the overhead chain. Joanna shuddered in relief as they were brought down in front of her. The rope was untied, but she had no chance to move her hands away. One end of the rope was quickly knotted around her right wrist and that wrist bound to one of the loops on the belt.

The woman fitted a wide black leather restraint around Joanna’s left forearm. It extended from her wrist almost to her elbow. The woman clipped the wrist end of it to the back of Joanna’s collar. She did the same with the right wrist, so both of Joanna’s hands were bound behind her neck and her elbows were in the air beside her head.

The woman tugged down the chain from the overhead track so that its cold links fell against Joanna’s skin. She clipped it to loops on either side of that belt, then winched Joanna off the ground. Again, her feet were dangling. The woman untied the rope that Joanna had bound around her own ankles, replaced it with locked leather ankle restraints, then hooked her feet to each other. The clasp she used had a stainless bar in the middle, ensuring that Joanna's feet were kept about twenty inches apart.

She walked around Joanna then, surveying her work, checking the fit of the restraints. Then, she too put her finger in the wet cleft of Joanna’s sex. She slid that fingertip back and forth, her head tilted to watch Joanna. Joanna held her ankles as far apart as she could. She squirmed and the woman drove her fingertip deeper into Joanna, harder against her clitoris, making her writhe with pleasure.

“No wonder the Master wanted you,” she murmured, a smile in her tone.

She stepped back, and opened a small box. Joanna couldn’t really see its contents but she heard the tinkle of harness. Something glistened on that gloved finger when the woman stood before Joanna again, then she stroked her finger against Joanna’s labia, smearing a cream over her sex. Joanna felt the immediate surge of heat from her genitals, a powerful tingle, an itch that demanded to be satisfied. Her hips bucked.

She thought she heard the woman chuckle. She locked a new harness around Joanna with crisp efficiency. Leather bands descended from the waist on either side in front, meeting over her pubis, then passing between her legs at the top of her thighs. From the back, the harness came around the outside of her thighs, and was secured to the front again. Each thigh was surrounded by a band of leather when she was done.

A shiny device shaped like a butterfly was positioned against Joanna’s clitoris, exactly where the two bands came together, the leather harness holding it precisely in place against her clitoris. It was soft and took on the heat of Joanna’s body quickly. It was shaped so that it rubbed against Joanna’s engorged vulva in an enticing way. The woman ensured that it was pressed tightly against her, the harness keeping Joanna from wriggling away from it. The heat of it and the tingle of the cream combined to make Joanna so aroused that she thought she would explode.

The woman stepped back, once again assessing her work. From her own belt, she removed something that looked like a remote control. She watched Joanna as she touched it.

The silicon butterfly began to pulsate against Joanna, driving against her in a rhythm that took her to the cusp of orgasm with lightning speed. Joanna cried out in surprise as desire stabbed through her and the woman chuckled again.

“This is how we ensure that our captives are always ready for their masters,” she said, her voice a wicked whisper. “Remember that you are forbidden to come.”

Joanna ground herself against the vibrating bit of silicon. The harness not only secured the vibrator in place, but left her vagina and anus accessible to anyone who wanted to sample her. She moaned at the thought of the Master taking her like this and the woman slapped her face.

“If you do not choose to be silent, I have the right to silence you.” Her tone was so hard that Joanna understood this guard would like nothing better. Her eyes glittered. “Yes. That’s our reward as guards. We get to do whatever we like to naughty slaves. You’d be smart to remember that.”

Joanna clamped her lips shut, thinking of the guard above.

Never mind the Master’s displeasure if she was naughty.

The female guard touched the side of her own hood, inclining her head as if to listen. She must have had an earpiece beneath her hood because she clearly made a call. She recounted a series of numbers to the person on the other end of the line, then turned off the remote and shoved it back in her belt. The vibrator stopped throbbing and Joanna trembled in relief.

The woman unclipped the bar from between Joanna's ankles, lowered her to the ground, and marched her out of the dim anteroom. The concrete floor was cold against her bare feet, but Joanna wasn’t going to complain. The guard drove Joanna on with a small whip, smacking it against her buttocks, and Joanna hastened forward as quickly as she could. She glimpsed other women similarly dressed to the guard, then they entered a corridor of solid doors. At the end of the corridor, one door stood open.

And before it waited a black man hooded in black. He was hooded, his erection thick.

The Master.

He took a picture of her and Joanna’s heart nearly stopped.

He held up a remote, touched the button with his thumb and the vibrator began to pulse so powerfully that Joanna fell to her knees before him. She kissed his boot in surrender, wanting only for him to take her as quickly and as forcefully as possible, to exhaust the desire that had been building in her all day.

The Master chuckled as he photographed her subjugation and the sound of his amusement filled Joanna with relief. She almost wept when he lifted her up in his powerful arms to carry her into her cell.

This was the Dungeon. She’d arrived and the Master had claimed her.

Her torment had begun,

And she was already desperate for more.

* * *

Mike took a deep breath of relief as Athena walked him into the Plume.

It was exactly as he recalled.

Exactly
.

The walls were still a rich shade of plum. The carpet was still thick and dark underfoot, soft and clean under the bare feet of slaves. It absorbed every sound in the foyer. There was still a shining gold logo on the far wall of the foyer – a peacock feather in gilt – with an urn of peacock feathers beneath it. They looked unreal, their myriad metallic colors gleaming and changing as he moved. There had to be thousands of them in that vase, and he swallowed, remembering how they were used.

The bar was off to the right, just as always, the lights low in there and the music throbbing. The beat matched the pounding of his heart and the pulsing in his cock – just as always, he wondered how Rex managed to control that. The Plume felt luxurious and mysterious, elegant and evocative all at the same time.

Athena halted him in the foyer, her fingertips landing on his mouth when he would have protested. “Silence,” she instructed, her eyes glinting with mischief even through her mask. He’d always loved her playfulness and sense of humor, her blatant enjoyment of the games at the Plume.

And sex. Sex with Athena had nearly blown his mind. Several times.

She smiled at him and he knew she was remembering those nights as well.

She stepped back and whistled, drawing the attention of the members in the bar. They spilled out into the lobby, curious and expectant. Mike reveled in the sight of them. They were all masked, most wearing black velvet dominos that were the signature of the club. They were also all dressed to show their assets and/or preferences. It was a fetish fashion show. There was latex and there was leather. There were corsets and heels, satin and velvet and feathers. There were nude slaves, harnessed slaves, blindfolded and gagged slaves.

And there were the slaves were served drinks in the bar. Mike had almost forgotten the perfection of their uniforms, the deep purple corsets that cupped their breasts and bound their waists so small that a man could wrap his hands around them. They, too, wore black velvet domino masks. He was convinced – again – that they were chosen for the job on the splendor of their breasts, which made sense if Rex was making the final decision.

The corsets laced up the back in black and were edged with black lace. Their aprons were ruffled black lace, just barely covering the pubis in the front – but sheer enough that their hungry snatches could be seen – and rising high in the back. They wore black fishnet stockings and gleaming purple patent leather heels, purple velvet gloves and wide leather chokers. Each one had her hair up, her lips and nipples rouged. When they leaned over tables – as they often did, bending right from the waist - the tempting red of their glistening labia was displayed.

And Mike had seen many a member tempted by that particular view.

He realized that Athena was watching him, in the same moment that he acknowledged she had been right about him loving the eye candy of the Plume. She beckoned and the serving women came forward on cue, fifteen of them closing around him in a circle. Fifteen of them with perfect breasts, tight corsets and wet sexes. He could smell them and it drove him wild.

Mike nearly moaned, guessed where Athena was going with this. She gave the leash on his cock a tug, nearly sending him to the moon, then handed it to a serving women who was so blonde she could have been made of moonlight. She smiled at him, then passed it between her thighs. Her pale nipples became erect and she gasped as the shining links of the leash touched her genitals.

Mike thought she would slide down the length of the leash, suck him right inside her and ride him in front of all the members of the Plume. The idea nearly undid him. His cock thumped at the prospect, becoming impossibly harder. He made to step forward and claim the prize, but Athena’s riding crop cracked across his butt.

“Look, don’t touch,” Athena commanded. Mike couldn’t believe she’d do this to him.

No, he believed it completely.

The blonde meanwhile grasped her own breast with one hand and arched her back, throwing back her head as she worked her own nipple with that hand. The other hand was behind her shoulders, holding the chain taut against her puss. She was on the cusp of orgasm, her red lips parted and wet, her eyes closed. Her lashes were surprisingly dark against her cheeks, her throat long and white and so beautiful that Mike ached to taste her. Her breasts were more than a handful, lush and lovely, and he yearned to lock his mouth around one nipple and suck.

He leaned forward instinctively and got another strike with the crop.

“So hard for you to learn you’re not in charge,” Athena whispered. “I’ll have to teach you.”