Page 2 of Safe Word

But Vinnie didn’t understand. This wasn’t about sex – not for me. It was about control, about exploring the darker corners of myself in a place where those shadows weren’t just tolerated – they were welcomed.

Inside, Obsidian was a study in contrasts – silken drapes, gilded mirrors, chandeliers scattering fractured light. Amber and musk clung to the air. Voices murmured low, their secrets a shared illusion.

However, even here, where masks replaced faces and shame had no place, order ruled. Obsidian’s laws were sacred. No unmasking without consent. No photos. No touch without a signed agreement. Safe words were lifelines, enforced by silent, suited attendants who moved like spectres. Break the rules, and you weren’t just banned – you vanished. No second chances.

Yet, even with such order, there was always an undercurrent of danger. The anonymity offered was intoxicating, but it also meant you never truly knew who was behind the mask. A politician. A doctor. A criminal. They all walked these halls, drawn to the darkness.

Just like I was.

Because traditional dating wasn’t an option for me – not for the kind of things I needed.

I had… needs, yes, that was what I’d call them. I didn’t have to fuck a woman to get off. I needed to hear her, see her react to things I did to her.

And those needs couldn’t be whispered about, let alone indulged in the daylight. Needs that, if discovered, could even have me locked away.

Or worse.

Obsidian had been the perfect solution to my particular state of mind. The women I’d seen so far were stunning, curated to fucking perfection. And they were real, not some fucking actresses. They were just like me. They needed things to be done to them, and to do things to others.

The online portal was very private, and only if our profiles matched would we see each other’s.

But even in this haven, I had yet to find a woman willing – or perhaps brave enough – to venture into the depths of my kind of fantasy. I eased them into it at first, but as I pushed ahead, they’d all eventually balked, no matter how well they initially did.

Before entering tonight, I’d signed the waiver, as always. A standard agreement outlining the boundaries, the rules, the risks. Nothing too physical, nothing illegal, everything consensual.

Then there were those beautiful safe words. A far cry from what I truly craved, but close enough to keep the worst of the darkness at bay.

As I adjusted the mask for the last time and stared at the mirrored door leading into the lounge, I let out a slow breath.

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight, someone would see the monster lurking beneath the surface and decide not to run. Or maybe they would just run, like the rest. And I would go home too early – again. Crack open another bottle and watch my life go by.

Either way, Cain D’Angelo would remain a phantom in this place.

Finally, I made myself step into the small, private lounge. My boots echoed against the dark-grey relief tiles, each step reverberating like the toll of a guillotine bell. And wasn’t that the truth of it.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew – the more I indulged, the deeper I sank, the quicker I plummeted into the black mire of my own desires.

A bitter smile crossed my lips as I pushed the thought aside. No room for self-loathing here. Not tonight.

My eyes landed on the black duffel bag resting in the low-lit corner, the contents as ominous as the setting. I’d packed it methodically, as always, and its contents mostly consisted of weapons. Real ones. The sharp, cold steel and the loaded weight. Some of them, I bought purely for effect. Others, well…

Getting these inside wasn’t simple. The bag had to clear inspection – every item declared in advance and logged before entering the lounge. Obsidian didn’t allow weapons on any of the floors. Officially. But this was a fantasy lounge. And some fantasies? They had a sharp edge – tucked neatly in a zippered lining, for those who could afford to bend the rules.

I moved to the large, round bed dominating the room. Its dark silken sheets seemed absurdly decadent. The beams overhead were adorned with chains and leather shackles. With a push of a button, they could descend and the chains could extend and retract.

That wouldn’t come into use today.

My gaze found the metal chair with straps in front of the bed.

That was how I started them.

I sank onto the mattress and let the headboard catch my weight. The tension in my shoulders eased just enough to make me feel human. For a moment.

How the fuck was I here again?

I’d asked myself the same question every time, yet the answer never came. I couldn’t believe there were so many women into these kinds of kinks, let alone willing to share them. What was it that drove them? A trauma from their past? Or was it something else, something darker, more primal?

My lips curved into a bitter smirk, but before my mind could stray too far into that forbidden corner, I shut my eyes tight. The sting of the contacts was harsh and biting, yet it grounded me. It wasn’t pain exactly, but it felt real enough to distract me from why I was here; the thought that I was completely dead inside. Or on my way to that.