I thought that was when I stepped through the looking glass.
Now, I realize I was wrong. It’s here. This is it. The tornado’s hit and I’ve landed smack dab in the middle of the bright, technicolor mayhem of Oz.
It’s equal parts scary and fascinating.
Half of me wants to run away as fast as I can.
This other half, though…the half I’ve kept under lock and key for so long? Well, it’s just getting warmed up.
Maybe, I consider from the anonymous safety of my mask, I could just find someone here to put me out of my sexual misery.
A few steps along, a crowd has gathered around a person hanging in a leather harness. It’s not until I draw close that I realize the crowd is actually tickling them. The sounds they’re making are unlike anything I’ve heard—high-pitched squeals that are perfectly balanced pain and hilarity. I can’t help but smile.
Everything, everyone is in pursuit of one thing—pleasure. Even the people in the cages are enjoying it. They asked for this. They want it.
I move on to see someone getting spanked in the next stall, their entire body vibrating with every smack of the paddle.
My nipples harden with each dullthwackof wood to flesh.
I’m squirming at the sight, my thighs going tight in search of friction, which it’s definitely not getting in this stretchy vinyl number. Another smack jiggles her butt. My mouth falls open as I get closer.
Wow. Just wow.
The two men spanking her are blocking my view. I want to see badly enough to step up just a few feet behind them and push up to my tiptoes.
I can see the woman fully, now. She’s bent over some kind of bench, her legs strapped apart. Her butt cheeks are red, what I can see of her face is in complete ecstasy, and her entire sex is visible.
The taller man says something and moves closer to her, lifts a paddle, and brings it down with a thud.
I’m so totally focused on her that I pay him no attention. He’s big. Tall and broad enough to block my view from his new position.
I scoot to the side and crane around for a closer look. I’m almost inside the stall now, less than six feet from her, just a couple from the spanker. I can see how wet she is, how badly she wants it, how good it must feel. The man hits her again—hard—and I jolt.
Another smack and I gasp, as if I’m the one being forced to open up and spread out and take the pain. More solid hits, each one speeding up my pulse, drawing me closer—too close, probably. My body’s hypnotized, my brain’s flying, caught up in the net of a hundred grunting, groaning voices, the smell of bodies and pleasure.
“Harder,” she screams.
Yes. Do it.I shut my eyes, letting myself imagine how it would feel to be up there. I could ask. I move in another foot. Now, I’m close enough I could reach out and beg one of them to take me into a dark corner.
The man spanking her chuckles low.
Recognition stands every hair on my body up straight.
Slowly, like swimming through molasses, I force my head to the side, my gaze sliding over perfectly-fitted dark pants, a broad, muscled, lightly-furred, pale-skinned chest, topped with—
I take a startled step back, blink, and realize he’s wearing a mask. It’s creepy. Smooth steel, devoid of detail, pulled straight from a horror film. Something about it shocks me to my core. This isn’t Zion. Not the one I knew. Or thought I knew. This is another person, a hard, blank-faced stranger.
“Go ahead,” says the other man. “She asked for it.”
My body clenches up at the words. What would Zion have done if I’d asked him to hit me, back in that cold DC house? I flush hot at the idea.
“If you say so, bro. She’s your sub.”
His voice, so familiar, has a hard, cutting edge to it that I’ve never heard.
I’m frozen in place, close enough to touch him. So close he could touch me, hit me with that paddle. I’m excited by the idea, my body so turned on I can feel how swollen I am, how sensitive and needy. How ready.
Both men laugh, low and mean and my skin prickles. The woman cranes her neck to give them a smile. “Please. Please, Zed. Don’t stop.”
