Working Under Dom

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Chapter 4 - Let the Game Begin

Chapter 4 - Let the Games Begin

Wet sounds. That’s what rouses Ben from a blissful sleep, or so he thinks. His chin lies on his bare chest.

Odd. Very. Odd.

Heavily, his head rests against his shoulder. Drool streams in long ribbons from his slack mouth. When he moves his head and coughs, the spittle slips down the side of his face and torso. Ben smacks his mouth. Did someone stuff it full of cotton balls?

“Huh?” he groans, groggy.

That’s not all the intern notices, which seems peculiar. He scowls at the draft skirting across his bare ass. Gooseflesh lines his exposed skin in an instant. Not even the hair on his legs gives him warmth. The shiny black floor against his flat feet escalates his alarm. His senses acknowledge the frigid sensation assaulting him. He shivers in bewilderment.

“What the fuck?!” Ben grumbles.

Where the hell is his shirt, pants, underwear, socks, and damn shoes?! Something’s not right. His last memory? What was it?

Dammit!”

Ben struggles to remember anything. He closes his eyes, trying to concentrate. It’s hard in his rising puzzlement. His mind floats in fogginess, which does not help either. Regardless, he focuses on the last thing he can recall.

His boss Dom summoned him to her lair to admonish him for a gross mistake he made. Strangely, she failed to fire him outright, though within her right to do so. She instead insinuated that he needed to pay her some penance while handing him a black business card. Her advice was that he should call the number on the card.

Ben followed the instructions. He dialed the phone number. A friendly woman answered. She told him to go to the lobby of his office building within 15 minutes. A car arrived to take him to the Underground, the same name on the business card.

Perplexed, Ben remembers nothing past getting into the Mercedes and signing the contract sent to him over the cellphone given to him. Damn it all to hell! He should have read it more closely! Is this a part of the game the female voice referred to during their terse conversation over the phone?

“No. Something’s wrong,” he murmurs, clearing his throat.

Anxiety forces his droopy eyes open in the worry that creeps through him. Ben gathers a view that perplexes him. Staring down at himself, he registers what he already noted. He’s naked but vertically supported by white rope? The intern raises his head with some straining involved. It weighs half a ton, yet he manages to do it. Ben gives it a mild shake in disbelief. This is a mistake; it has to be. He can’t be naked tied up by fucking rope!

His denial does not change the reality. His eyes convey that he is bound in a standing position. His arms rise at his sides. They are bent at the elbow with two sets of rope suspending from the ceiling of this dark room that appears obscure other than the floodlight shining above him. The rope loops around his forearms to his elbows, then slants down to his waist for an elaborate tie at his mid-section, and then it does something bizarre. It loops down around his balls and dick. The rope also flows over the crack of his ass behind him. Further down, his legs are spread wide apart by a black metal bar attached to shackles at his ankles. At least, that’s the way it appears.

“Where the fuck am I? Who has done this to me?”

Sweat lines him. Panic rises to irritate his ulcer. Ben wishes for a Tums right now as he grimaces at his predicament. Licking his lips that are so dry, he also experiences an accelerated heartbeat. Ben peers around into the dark unknown where someone watches. He senses it, and it freaks him out. The hairs standing on the back of his neck tell him so.

“Hello?” Ben calls out in a voice that’s rusty and jittery. He smacks again, wishing for water. His throat is so dry.

The wet sounds he thinks he hears are accompanied by a moan or two, echoing nearby. “Oh! Ooh! Mmmm...”

“Is anyone there?” he calls out, louder this time. “Hello?”

Ben pulls a bit against the rope yet abruptly stops his movement. Any shift of his body causes the rope binding him to constrict in discomfort around his groin. Of course, that must have been the intent. Why?

The moans that do not belong to him grow urgent. “Oh! Oh! Mmm!”

The light around Ben, effectively blinding his vision to any appreciable distance, appears to dim. He can view more of his surroundings. In front of him, shapes of furniture materialize. The walls appear to be open red brick. None of them are adorned with anything decorative.

This room holds a lot of offbeat stuff that worries him further. A weird-looking bench that’s long with leather padding is to his left. Stainless steel shackles extend from the sides and end. At the head of it appears to be a wooden restraint fit at the neck area to restrict the head. Ben eyes a host of nasty tools, floggers, and whips on gunmetal shelves by the far wall. Against another wall, a bizarre cross with more shackles makes its home.

The intern gulps in his dry throat as sweat trickles off his forehead and drips down his body. His nerves gather the best of him because there is no way to dissuade them. The situation looks bleak. Someone literally wants to torture his ass!

Ben’s view extends further as the overhead lights shift to illuminate a brighter hue further away from him. The scene playing out before him gathers all of his attention now. The intern’s eyes are not the only thing that bulges in reaction. No, he’s not alone in this torture chamber like his initial inclination.

“Um, hello?”

No reply is given to him. The wet sounds persist, as does the sumptuous moaning. He wonders if he is heard yet understands why that may not be so.

On the floor beneath an ornate rug lined with designer pillows, lounge two of the most beautiful women Ben has ever seen. Their perfect bodies entwined with one another are laid bare for his hazel eyes. He can hardly believe it. He would pinch himself if he could.

Ben gasps in the shock of them, live and not a part of his imagination. His cock throbs with the wanton actions of the mystery ladies groping and petting each other. They do not acknowledge the intern, their audience, helplessly tied up close. His jaw remains slack, though, as he reviews every delicate detail of their flawless skin. This makes the rope tighten around Ben’s most vulnerable parts, yet he cannot hinder his arousal.

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