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When would he be home? I didn’t want him to catch me in here, perving his collection of kinkiness, but I couldn’t stop looking at everything. I opened the cabinets and closed them again without touching anything, overwhelmed by the things I saw inside. Sex toys and dildos. Butt plugs. Nipple clamps. Bondage equipment. Chains, rope, gags, and leather whips and straps, designed to cause pain.
Oh God, what if there was a camera in here? What if there was a silent alarm that was already beckoning him home, so he could accost whoever had broken into his secret sex lair? What would he say if he caught me here? I knew a little about BDSM, but I’d never done anything kinky with a partner. I knew there were Dominants and submissives in this lifestyle, and it was clear to me which one he was, based on the way he’d kissed me that one time.
How could I have been so clueless, so blind to these proclivities in him? It seemed so obvious now. His deep, brusque voice and his intent eye contact, his commanding manner… All my life, I’d known he was a dark kind of guy. So much was explained by this dungeon, but so many more questions were raised. How long had it taken him to amass this collection of furniture and toys? How many partners had he played with? How many did he have right now? Was I in the way, since I’d moved in here? Was he seeing some other woman right now, some secret slave he couldn’t invite over until I moved out again?
I rubbed my forehead, wondering what to do. Walk out of this room and shut the door? Pretend I didn’t know this dungeon was here, just a few doors down from my room? Why didn’t he keep a room like this locked?
Because he’d lived alone until now.You’re trespassing. You’re invading his privacy.
It was crazy, how you could know someone for so long, but not really know them at all. I’d only seen what I wanted to see, the moody, mostly solitary violinist who was a few years older than me, old enough to seem wise beyond his years. Now I was picturing him in here, looking in the cabinets for the perfect cuffs, the blindfold, the rope to fix a woman—me—to one of these benches or racks. It was a Milo I’d never thought about, but one that made me shiver with desire. Bound, blindfolded, at his mercy…
What would he do then? Whip me? Fuck me? Call me a naughty slut?
Was all of this—the dungeon, the perversity—the reason he kept me at arm’s length?I can’t do this, because I respect you too much.I remembered his words because they’d disappointed me so deeply.
But now…
Now everything could be different. I could let him know I was okay with this side of him. In fact, as I stood looking around at the forbidding furniture and tall cabinets, I knew this side of him was a huge part of what attracted me. Milo was good at so many things. He was kind and caring, and renowned for making instruments. He was a noted musician, who played the violin with the potency of someone who needed to do it to live. If he was good at this BDSM stuff too…
Oh God. I had to process all this, and I had to get out of here before he caught me lurking. I made sure everything was just as it had been when I entered, turned out the lights, and scurried out the door, shutting it behind me. Blue came trotting back, ready to be fawned over again. I complied, petting his smooth head and scratching him behind the ears.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “Why didn’t you explain things to me?”
He let out a snuffle, like I was ridiculous. I probably was. I should have figured this out sooner, but it wasn’t too late to make things work between us. I went back to my room and started an Internet search on BDSM, because by the looks of things, the information I’d picked up in books and movies wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Nine: Milo
Iarrived homeafter midnight, wanting to lose myself in sleep, but I couldn’t sleep. After work, after Alice had visited my workshop, I’d gone to a friend’s house, to her “birthday bash,” which was more of a birthday gangbang. Allie was into that stuff, and it was fun seeing her get all her masochistic buttons pushed, but I wasn’t in the mood to participate. Instead of Allie, I kept thinking of Alice. Their names were similar—only one letter difference—but the two of them were nothing alike.
Alice was sweet and low-key, while Allie was a tempest. Alice had light hair, and Allie was dark. Alice was tall, and Allie was a petite package of perversity. I’d done so many fun scenes with Allie over the years, and now…now I couldn’t get into her. At all.
Fuck. Alice was ruining my life, tearing me in two, forcing me to be someone respectable because she was respectable. The other Doms were back at Allie’s, having a fucking blast, and I was lying in bed, too disgusted with myself to even jack off. I wanted what the guys at Allie’s place wanted, to torment and fuck a pretty girl, but I wanted it to be Alice instead, and that was a fucking problem.
I rolled over with a groan, squeezing my eyes shut. It didn’t help. I pictured everything I wanted to do to Lilly-Alice Nyquist in pornographic detail. There was the hard blowjob, of course. Fantasy number one: ramming my cock into her throat as she struggled to stay on her knees. I’d keep one hand clenched in her hair, making her look up at me every so often so I could see the tears overflowing her eyes. Her gagging and sputtering would be music to my ears—
No. Fucking no. Don’t think about her like that.
I had more, much more where that came from. There was the fantasy of cuffing her hands over her head and whipping her with a crop or strap as she struggled to get away, pleading with me to show her mercy. Maybe her hair would be done up in those braids, and I’d unravel them when I stopped to let her draw a breath. I’d shove her head back and kiss her hard, and clasp my fingers around her slender neck until she made frantic, panicked sounds.
No, don’t jack off to that, you sick pervert. Not to choking out Lilly-Alice.
Fine. I’d jack off to the anal fantasies instead. I’d imagine her long legs held apart by a spreader, her ass in the air, bent over a trestle or bench. I’d toy with her first, humiliate her, insert a plug that made her squirm, all the while reminding her that my dick was bigger and harder than the plug, than anything she’d fucking imagined. When I started easing into her, her toes would curl, and her asshole would clench in alarm. I’d spank her and whisper threats in her ear.Let me in. I’m going to make you my anal-craving slut.
I almost didn’t hear the tap at the door over the roar of blood filling my cock. The object of my fantasies opened the door and stuck her head in. Shit, those braids again. I could see them in the dim light from the hall.
“Milo? Are you awake?”
I should have played dead, but I’d already turned toward the door to see if she was okay.
“I’m awake. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” That was what she said, but there was clearly something troubling her. “Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
I sat up, wishing I slept in more than boxers as I clicked on my bedside light. Fortunately, my massive erection had ebbed, but I still piled as many covers as I could in my lap. She’d picked the wrong time to come visiting. I watched, holding my breath, as she came into my bedroom and stood at the bottom of my bed.
“I’m sorry, Milo. I know it’s late. I should probably just wait, or maybe not say anything, but if I don’t say something now, I’ll never find the courage again.”
