“Looks like you liked the place.”
“Fuck, yeah! This is more like it.”
He pulls something from his pocket. A slim, elegant black collar with a single D-ring in front. From it hangs a thin chain leash, matte metal. He holds it up.
“Is this your way of telling everyone I’m off limits?” I ask, licking my lip.
He fastens the collar around my neck like it was made to be there, the leather hugging my throat. Then the leash clicks into place and something in my gutsnapsinto place with it.
He glances at me.
“It’s how I tell them you’re mine.”
My cock fuckingaches.
I want to fight him. I want to kneel. I want to beusedin front of all these people. But I stay still. Barely. My body’s vibrating like I’m full of hornets.
Naoya-san gives the leash a tug and Imove.
“Tonight’s Bondage Day,” he says, walking forward. “Every second Friday. Everyone’s expected to participate.”
I laugh, breathless.
“I think I found religion.”
“We’ll see if you still think that when it’syourturn.”
We walk through the dungeon—his pace slow, like he’s parading me, which he fucking is. I can tell he’s some known figure in this place, just like he was in the kinbaku studio above. He’s showing me off to those people and theyare looking. Some linger too long. Some look me up and down like they’re picking out cuts of meat at the butcher.
It’s fucking hot.
One Dom walks past, guiding a girl on a chain leash like mine. She’s on all fours, mouth held open by a ring gag, tits bound tight with hemp that makes her skin bulge obscenely.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to crawl like dog?”
He laughs and looks over his shoulder at me.
“I’m not interested in pet play. But let me know if you are.”
Yeah, maybe that one’s not for me. It pisses me off when people call me “mad dog”, even though I know I’m one.
Naoya-san cuts through the haze and heat of the place and people nod to him, glance at me like I’m a fucking prize pig being led to market. He brings us to one of the raised platforms—smaller than some of the stages we passed, but more intimate, like a private altar built for worship and sin. A brass plaque hangs crooked on the front:RESERVED. There are ropes already set, deep red and already hanging from metal rings.
Naoya-san stops in front of it and looks at me.
“Is this space too much for you? We can always go back upstairs. The performance rooms above are gentler. No touching. Just the art.”
I look around.
There’s a girl tied up nearby, chest bare, her nipples clamped and connected to a battery someone’s pulsing slowly. She’s moaningloud. A man kneels beneath her, licking her pussy while another woman draws lines down her stomach with a crop. The light above their space glows soft red.
I snort.
“Why the fuck would I want that when I can havethis?”
His lips twitch.
“Then we’ll stay.”
