"Mr. Janus." A female voice whispered.
Her voice was the only sensation Mr. Janus had felt in the dark, and it was far away. He was confused but regaining consciousness.
"Who are you?" Mr. Janus asked. He was blindfolded, bound to a chair, struggling to find the reason for his immobility. His wrists chaffed against the coarse rope that tied them to his ankles and anchored him to the floor. His expensive suit, gold cuff-links, and gold Rolex, were signs of his affluence, affluent power which was failing him now.
"Don't worry Mr. Janus, I'm a friend." The female voice assured. Her tone convinced him of his safety despite his situation. "I want to be sure that you are well. Your friends sent me. Your friends from the Black Rose."
Hearing the name Black Rose, Mr. Janus snapped out of his stupor. How did they know I was in distress? Have they been watching over me? Have my desires been heard? They've sent someone!
"Of course, the Black Rose, I'm so honored! And relieved." He blurted out. Mr. Janus was unduly excited for his predicament. He had harbored a fifteen year obsession tracking a clandestine society who's movements he followed with increasing desire, but knew little about their official customs, except that that they indulged in sexual deviance, a place he felt his type could be welcome. He only recently learned the identity of the group, referred to as the Black Rose. The Black Rose was made of men of importance for their protection and pleasure.
Mr. Janus lived up to his name, by day a consummate professional, by night, and by most societal norms, a freak. In the real world, he was employed as a financial adviser, an official title masking the work he really performed, money laundering, tax evasion, embezzlement, and usury. Numbers were easy for him, but this gift also isolated him, the men that he worked for demanded much of his time. He had no kids, or a wife, he was married to his job. There existed no pedestrian life for him outside of his grinding work. He did not regret the consuming lifestyle, in fact it gave him purpose, and it grew his loyalty to those called The Fathers.
The Fathers were intensifying their grip on all in their empire. What Mr. Janus had not known was the Black Rose was just another tool used by The Fathers to control the rungs of their organization. At a point, money became a poor tool to subdue their workers. Fear was always an option, but detrimental to productivity. Instead, they chose the strategy to disconnecting their key workers from daily normality and nurse them with depravity. They replaced affection and love with sex and perversion and initiated their essential employees into the Black Rose. They achieved tremendous results. Some of The Fathers even believed they achieved much greater loyalty.
The Black Rose was designed with levels of descent, like Dante's Inferno, Mr. Janus was about to enter into his first descent.
"Mr. Janus, I'm going to remove the blind fold." The soft female voice said. "Your eyes may hurt."
But not as much as what I'm going to do to you.
Mr. Janus's eyes painfully adjusted to the surroundings around him. A single spot light rained down on him. The edges beyond were concealed in darkness. He could hear no echo from when they spoke, and the darkness made it impossible to determine the size of the room he was in, if he was in a room. He felt odd. His excitement grew but so did his fear. For Mr. Janus, he'd discovered that fear was a powerful sexual component, but when he learned that fear within him aroused him more than instilling fear in others, his life changed.
"How did I end up here?" He asked.
"You asked for this Mr. Janus." The female voice said from behind him.
"I asked?"
He heard stiletto footfalls from behind him and then she appeared. The tall curvy figure circled him in a wide arc, eyeing him, then she stood in front of him just outside the cone of light, her arms crossed. She wore black latex gloves, matching latex bodysuit, and a silver cross necklace studded in blood red rubies. Her ivory cleavage floated against the darkness. Her narrowing electric blue eyes stared from underneath perfectly cropped silky blond bangs.
Mr. Janus smirked. "I asked for a dominatrix?"
"Mr. Janus, you asked to prove your loyalty, for the honor of Black Rose!" She said, and fire flared in her eyes. Message received, he thought, this chick was an alpha female, I love role play.
"Mr. Janus. The Black Rose may begin to respect you, if you pass." She started to explain. "But in order for that to happen you need to endure what I have in store for you here, now." Her voice sharpened suddenly "But make no mistake, I will never respect you! You are filth to me. I will test you with punishment and I care not if you learn any lesson. I care not if you enjoy this. I will punish you, you piece of shit! You are nothing to me. You will be called Horse, just an animal I will break."
Mr. Janus was shocked, he surged with intense emotions he could not untangle: helplessness, fear, exhilaration, confusion, sexual excitement. "I welcome it!" He said with pride.
"Horse!" She spat. "Watch your words. You welcome nothing! You will be silently grateful for what I do to you." She paused narrowing her eyes, and focusing her fury.
"Sirens!" She yelled into the dark. "Forward!"
He heard two figures approach, it shattered his notion that the domme and he were alone. What else is there in the dark? He thought. He was surprised to feel embarrassment
As the figures came into sight, he saw two impossibly sexy females, masked, standing a few feet outside the halo of light.
The left figure wore a mask of feathered black sequins, the whites of her eyes glared with piercing hatred. Her lips were heavily rouged and she wore an uncountable number of necklaces, spiked chains, and ropes of steel balls, smaller silver, and bone necklace tightly adorned her neck ending at her jaw line. The larger loose ornamentations all flowed into the white porcelain cleavage of her unnatural breasts. Her nipples pierced with large ornate rings reminiscent of door knockers.
She flexed her muscular stomach and flicked her tongue at Horse.
The second female figure moved forward, a nude African body covered with tribal paints, her pubic hair bleached blond, her pink tongue darted in and out from behind fluorescent white teeth. Her ebony skin gleamed with the harsh light accentuating her dark chocolate skin. She stood tall in black heels, legs bent, body bent in aggression. She wore a half leather mask with steel spiked Mohawk and knee length steel chains flared from her leather belt to her steel bracelets.
The African domme stomped at Horse, then hissed and flared her eyes.
"Sirens, disrobe Horse." The dominatrix commanded.
The dommes leaped at Horse and tore at his clothing. He panicked and jerked at his bonds letting out frantic gasps. Fear started to overcome his excitement. Mardi-gras domme flipped out a knife held it in front of Horse's face hissed and slashed at his belt and pants tearing them from his body. African domme tore at Horse's shirt and pulled at his hair.
Horse was losing his shit. Shreds of his clothing dripped from his body. Feeling helpless and exposed, he yanked at his bonds but nothing.
"Horse!" The dominatrix said. "You're not going anywhere." She took a step forward and grabbed his chin. She could see the fear in his eyes. Her grip was a vise but barely noticeable next to the focus of her eyes.
"Please..." Mr. Janus whimpered.
"Look at deh small man, he piss heself." The African domme laughed pointing.
Everyone looked down between Mr. Janus' legs at the growing puddle of urine. The dommes haughtily laughed, Horse cried, the dominatrix showed no visible amusement.
"please..." Mr. Janus wept.
