One Night in a Dungeon

Excerpt From: One Night in a Dungeon

The hard slap of leather against skin matched the beat of the Linkin Park song playing in the background. Drew Atkins closed his eyes and let the sounds blend inside him, his blood pounding in his head, coursing through his veins with the same throbbing rhythm. His cock pressed hard against his jeans. It had been that way since moments after he'd arrived at this out—of—the—way labyrinth of playrooms. Who knew Los Angeles could harbour such wicked delights behind an unmarked door guarded by discreet bouncers clad in black? All it took to gain entry was to utter a simple sentence.

"I'm Luc's guest."

The Dungeon Mistress had smiled as if she'd known what lay in store for him tonight. He hadn't. He could only have imagined until he had stepped into this playroom and watched two people, a man and a woman, being strung up and beaten. Even though neither scene was of a man mastering another man, the sights still heated his blood and banished his apprehension. He was going to do this. He was going to finally submit himself to another man and learn what delights could be found by being dominated and disciplined.

The fantasy had lurked in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember, ever since he had been old enough to understand and acknowledge that he was gay. He had pushed aside the thoughts, the yearnings, because dealing with his sexual orientation had already been a difficult thing to do. For too many years, it had clashed with his desire to be a soldier. Attending West Point and working his way up the ranks to captain—and all the while stealing a few moments of pleasure with other men—had taken time and energy. It had been easier to bring his natural inclination towards leadership into the bedroom rather than check it at the door. But it had been exhausting, too, and never as fulfilling as he had hoped. In the end, the plain truth of it was that, while he had been born to take charge in every other aspect of his life, when it came to sex, he wanted someone else to lead the way.

He focused his attention on the smacks and groans and imagined it was him tied up and being beaten. His flesh tingled with arousal. He could feel the hair on his arms rise. A shudder ran through him. This part of his nature had been harder to acknowledge. Although, like any good soldier, he avoided harm as much as possible, his deepest desire was to be disciplined as well as mastered. He had done the research and now understood that guys like him, who carried responsibility and suffered tremendous stress, often craved the release of pain. Still, a part of his brain screamed 'deviant' and, worse, questioned his manhood. What kind of 'real' man liked to be trussed like a hog to slaughter, and made to moan and scream?