Labyrinth, An Erotic b**m Novel

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Kathryn

Cold and naked I crawled to the door in chains, not that I could see where I was going. The red sash must have looked like a streak of blood across my eyes; it was so tight that my head began to throb and my blinded eyes ached. My knees hurt too, encrusted with ally gravel and city dirt, which was all I could discern about where I’d find the labyrinth that night. The sound of traffic rushing by from city streets was a dead giveaway that we’d not gone far.

The chains? Those were new, awaiting me in the car when Thayer picked me up at six o’clock. He’d been miffed enough to make me cool my heels on the sidewalk for a half hour. By the time ten minutes ticked by, I’d realized his game: I’d be in for another twenty minutes of chagrinned patience.

The thick iron collar fit tightly around my throat, delivering me to the land of surrender, a place I often find difficult to navigate. I balked when I saw the rest of the shackles, only to have Thayer stop the car, turn around and look me in the eye angrily. He gave my face a stinging slap. “If you want to know if I’d put you out on the street naked, Kathryn, you can try that attitude again. Or you can put the chains on and let them do their work.”

Who was I to argue?

There were rough iron shackles for my wrists and ankles, the pairs connected with thick chains that not only weighted me down, they made sure that I’d make plenty of noise during that brief crawl through what I believed was an alley. Another chain went around my waist; another was attached to the choking collar, then was thread between my legs and up my back to be hooked to another ring at the back of the collar. The design was crude, but it was effective; by the time Thayer’s beat-up Hummer came to a lurching halt, I was traveling in another plane of existence. Some women get lured by the mystery, I get bodily thrown into a place of surrender. Thayer has little finesse. But that certainly doesn’t stop the magic, or the excitement of a trip into the labyrinth.

The music was grinding, hard metal, but strangely erotic and taking up the beat inside my crotch within seconds of moving from the city noise into the labyrinth’s uncivilized domain.

I felt hands on me almost from the first moment, fingers in my mouth, a hand on my ass and probing deeply into my anal crack. I’d left the asphalt at the door, finding the remainder of my crawling journey nearly as difficult as I navigated a hard wood floor. There’d be bruised knees by morning. I’d been leashed like an animal; one sharp tug on the leash, which I presumed was being handled by Thayer, and I came to an abrupt halt. After crawling up three stairs I imagined myself on a riser where those mauling hands could have easier access to my offered body. At least the cushioned top was softer than wood.

Someone’s hand roughed up my hair, then pulling my head back, the head of a p***s presented itself to my waiting lips. The stench of a man’s crotch was a heady aphrodisiac causing my mouth to salivate and my lips to open as they sought out the fleshy organ. I toyed with the head, using the fellatio skills I’d been trained to use. But suddenly, all my careful skills were whisked aside with the huge member unceremoniously shoved into my mouth. I immediately gagged. But the huge organ wasn’t going away. The man who owned it lunged again and again, drilling my mouth so fiercely that I could barely breathe. My nose was nestled against the base of his organ, pressed to a hairy crotch and forced to stay there by a pair of hands clutching the sides of my head and using my ears as handles. So intent was I on the man at my mouth that I hardly realized there was another one working the opening of my ass, his fingers invading the s****l places of my body until my p***y flowed with juice and my asshole was lubricated for the s*x that was certain to follow. Even my underside was molested, breasts pawed by a crude hand until I shrieked—as much as one can shriek with a c**k clinging determinedly to my throat.

The penetration went on until I was not only stuffed at the mouth, but a thick male organ impaled my ass and my cunt was savaged by probing fingers. My mind had settled into a hazy delirium where the sound of the pounding music matched the rough beating of my body’s orifices, until I’d nearly passed out from the frenetic attack. My resistance diminished like crumbling leaves in a wet gutter. That gone, the mood of the night began to infect me with a hedonistic fervor for more: for another c**k, another hand, another pair of lips to please, the scent of another man to shock my senses back to life, or perhaps, the sensuous softness of a woman’s body to soothe away the physical cruelty committed by my sadistic lovers.

One crashing orgasm led to another, then another, then to my screaming into the sweltering night air; I found myself rolled onto my back, my limbs askew and the chains half gone—though the shackles at my wrists and ankles remained. The red sash had disappeared so that when I opened my eyes, I saw Thayer staring down at me through the murky haze of the labyrinth.

“What a f*****g slut!” He shook his head in mock disgust; his way of diminishing me further.

Even if I’d wanted to speak, I wouldn’t have dared open my mouth.

The screams of a coming woman, perhaps the agony of her pain, were all the labyrinth would tolerate from their s****l ‘properties’, as we were fondly called. I’d learned this fact the hard way on my first excursion into the shadowy depths of that lusty lair.

The first time a stranger referred to me as ‘property’, I’d risen up with fists clenched, blurting out an unwise, “How dare you!”

The man was within his rights to knock me down with the back of his hand, although Thayer did it for him.

The look of shock on my face hardly phased my husband. I knew he had a dark brooding side; war does that to men, but I’d never seen it surface—not like that, not aimed at me, his beloved wife. Ten years of marriage had taught me that my husband was a complex creature with passions I could barely understand, though I always thought I’d made a reasonable attempt to do so.

When out of the blue one Sunday afternoon Thayer made his first and not so subtle inquiries about my inclination for s****l adventure, I could sense that much of his time spent brooding had been aimed at his own perverse inclinations. Until that day, the kinkiest we’d been in bed was anal sex—maybe a once a month adventure—and a little light bondage, as in tying my hands to the headboard of the bed while Thayer teased me with a feather or his fingers. He finally worked me up to a short-taloned leather flogger, which I later learned was far more playful than painful in its impact. At first, I was pretty pissed off that he didn’t allow me to return the favor and tie him up, but from early on during our simple experimentation it became clear that I would not be the one tying the knots or wielding the whip in my marriage. I accepted this. It wasn’t a huge surprise to me that Thayer had a bit of a sadistic streak, although it was always something we joked about rather than took seriously. A little light-hearted banter would ease any tension and we’d be off on another subject. I was actually proud of myself for being so damned cooperative, making a quick assumption that what rankled hotly in my husband’s soul needed occasional expression. If I could be of service, why not? However, I never dreamed that the ‘occasional’ expression would be taken to a place where the extremes of s****l perversion were not just innocuous experimentation but a serious game.

In his first forays on the subject, Thayer said he’d met a man, a member of a loosely knit organization that arranged s*x parties; would I like to try one?

Yes, he said the whole thing in almost the same breath. My immediate response was: ‘Are you f*****g kidding!’ To which Thayer flatly stated without a bit of emotion, ‘No, I’m not.’

I stormed out of the bedroom, and we were estranged for the rest of the night until I had some time to think through my response, his motives, and the strange way the proposal effected me.

“Does it mean that I have s*x with other people?” I asked him. I stood at the den door, where I later found him reading the evening paper; my arms were crossed in front of my chest, as I defensively waited for further details.

He looked up, peering at me over his newspaper and above his reading glasses. “If it’s out of the question, I’m okay with that,” he said. The almost ominous quality of his earlier demeanor seemed to have vanished, and I stared at matter-of-fact old Thayer, calm and serene as ever. The man was steady if he was anything, and he loved me, that I knew. I knew too that this was not a mid-life crisis; something deeper had spawned his interest.

“I was actually thinking the idea sounded, well, interesting,” I offered, as if I’d truly risen above my pervious turmoil. It took me a lot to get that statement out, but once I’d stumbled over the words, I was pretty happy I’d told him the truth. “You just took me by surprise. I never had any idea that something like what you’re suggesting would cross your mind. You’re normally pretty protective of me. The old ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of thing.”

He chuckled, knowing how right I was.

Finally, he put down the paper and considered me thoughtfully. “This is different, Kathryn. And I don’t blame you for being hesitant, I was too. But then I felt as if the whole idea opened something in me that I’d been trying to resist. They call it the labyrinth. I’m not sure why, but I do know that you may find every kink in the book there. I also know that it’s not a equal opportunity club, if you can even call it a club at all. Women are treated as playthings, and for some, as if they are no more than properties. There’s S M, bondage and lots of s*x. If we go at all, it has to be your choice, and you have to be willing to submit to what I ask of you. You either play by the rules or we don’t go. If I knew more, I’d tell you, but I think that pretty much explains what it’s about. I realize it’s not much to go on. If it had been anyone but Alec suggesting this, I’d have passed on it and never mentioned it to you.”

“Alec?”

“I’ve known him since college.” He observed me for nearly a minute while I mulled this information finally adding: “No pressure, Kathryn. I swear.”

“But if you really want to try it, why not? This isn’t some sort of lifetime commitment, is it?”

“Not that I know of.”

A deep breath, a smile on my face. “Then we’ll go.”

I slipped into the room, making my way into his warm lap where he cuddled me close, wrapping me in his big affectionate arms. We kissed until our kisses led us back to the bedroom where we made love again, our passions fueled by the unseen energy of the labyrinth already working its way through our horny bodies.

I came out of my s*x-soaked trance and was jerked to my feet with a tug from Thayer. He’d attached the leash to my collar, and while I had a break from the frenetic s****l activity, he led me around like his prized pet. During the quiet moments, I had time to collect myself and get a good look at my surroundings.

The labyrinth is never found in the same location twice—at least not in my several years experience. I’ve been taken to various estate homes—some the ostentatious overstatement of the filthy rich, some ramshackle old houses with charm and bad plumbing. Just as intriguing was a Spanish hacienda, the ruins of an army fort, and, in the dead of winter an ancient hunting lodge with the scariest staircase I’ve ever climbed on hands and knees. There’s always music—heavy metal, string quartets, sexy jazz; I don’t know who sets the stage but it always fits the mood. And yet, the sound that most remarkably sticks in my head as I think of the labyrinth is that of barking dogs. Sentries, guarding against the world outside that has no place within the delicate balance of the labyrinth’s movable walls. I’ve come to find some comfort from their vigilante service, though I wonder if that comfort is more psychological than real. If the dogs are there to warn the unsuspecting, and plant a quiver of fear in the hearts of the women who are part of the proceedings, they certainly do their job well.