Ioan Gruffudd

This chapter of a celebrity story does not contain any references to actual celebrities. It is part of a complete finished novella but is a stand-alone chapter.

Nicky, the narrator, has anal and oral sex with a dominate in this chapter. Those who have followed the series preferring to see a romantic plot may skip this chapter if so desired.

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Friday the shooting was hectic. I was off set most of the time with the bigger producers, scouting locations and meeting. When I made it to the set Ioan was gone. Fine by me.

But the bastard had his revenge. Every reasonably tall man with a nice body that passed made me wonder; is it him? How horrible. He'd done that to me, made me doubt myself. Or, perhaps, my illusions of myself.

Bastard.

I still didn't know his game. I think he loved dominating. Maybe he was just a top who found his favorite bottom. No matter what I had to prove to myself that it didn't matter. I had to be free to know I didn't love a man who didn't love me.

"Hello, darling!"

I froze at that voice. "Helen?"

A squeal and then a British admonishment. Danny was with her.

"Helen? Danny? What are you two doing here?"

"Looking for you. Listen darling, I filled Danny in but he has sworn on his mother's Prada bag to not tell."

Danny gave me a bear hug. "Nicky, I can't believe you never said one word. Any chance I can score an interview with the very secretive author?"

"Well, maybe. I wish you would have called." I was nonplussed at their appearance; reeling, really.

"Nonsense, any plans tonight?"

"None, but-"

"Then let's take you out. This is Danny's first trip to Los Angeles, let's show him a good time."

"Jesus, Helen, a good time with you will get us arrested here." And I meant it.

She laughed. "Perfect. I adore American cops, so beefy."

"Um, Helen, you do know the age of consent here is 18, not 16 like back home?"

She laughed and waved me off. "What have you been doing for fun, darling?"

Danny was still wearing a suit, a very nice, very expensive English suit that made him look thin as a needle but stylish. Helen wore a man eater outfit with a little too much purple but it suited her. I felt a feeling of foreboding.

Her hair was a little longer and dyed an impossible shade of red, but other than that she was little changed. Danny was looking even more sharp around the edges, handsome in his leanness but could use more muscle on him.

"Well, I'm a homebody so I'm not so sure where to go."

Helen smiled. "I do."

And that was how we found ourselves at the Golden Dragon. It was in a district that had once housed warehouses for god only knows what. LA didn't make anything or ship it.

The building looked like it once packed meat, but I knew it didn't, and the alleys near it were wet. The parking was another warehouse and security was high. I saw a few men with assault rifles.

"Helen, what the fuck is this place?" I asked out of the side of my mouth. We were walking down the ramp of the parking warehouse towards the other warehouse with its awning and security guards.

She just pulled three crisp one hundred dollar bills out of her purse and handed them around. "Give this to the man at the door and for chrissake, keep your mouths shut."

Danny and I just looked at each other and took the money. She led us to a covered entry way where three men stood. One had muscles on muscles on muscles, another had an assault rifle, and the third looked like a Quentin Taratino version of a street pimp.

Helen gave him her money and muscles patted her down.

"Oh Christ," Danny mumbled.

I went next and did the same and Danny followed. Quentin the Pimp opened the door and we stepped into a space between the outer doors and a pair of inner. The outer closed and Helen tried the inner. They didn't open.

"Shit."

"Just wait." She winked at me.

The inner doors opened then and the bass hit us like a wall. Inside were more goons but beyond was like the negative of a Russ Meyer movie.

The band in the corner was comprised of all well built men, playing their instruments wildly and gyrating their hips to the beat. Stages were placed here and there, the main one curtained off, and on the smaller ones men dressed in impossible g-strings ground in cages or around poles.

The waiters were dressed little better and the drinks were flowing. The clientele was ninety percent women and they touched the men in every way. A woman in what appeared to be an actual leather catsuit approached us.

"I need samples."

"Excuse me?"

"Blood."

She had a pouch around her waist and she pulled out alcohol pads and needles. "What the hell?" I asked Helen.

"You'll see."

One by one we were pricked and blood squeezed out. And then she handed us a bill.

"A thousand dollars!"

"Trust me, it's worth it, Nicky. Danny I'll cover you."

Bewildered and knowing I was probably being watched by CIA cameras at that moment I handed Catwoman my platinum card.

"Okay, what was that about?"

"A thousand bucks to run the world's fastest test. Tells them if you're HIV positive. No one who is works here or patronizes here. They check for all they can with blood tests and the dancers are all tested for everything daily. That's why a thousand. Five hundred is being added per person for unlimited drinks and...insurance."

"Why are we being tested?" Danny dared to ask.

"You'll see."

A man who wore the tiniest scrap of leather I'd ever seen that kept him street legal took us to a table. I looked around the room and realized everyone there was money, most of them famous.

He took our drink orders and left us alone. Catwoman came next with discrete receipts and syringes. Calmly as you please she drew blood from us and left without a word.

We drank and talked, ogling the men who circulated, and after three drinks I realized there had to be something in it.

"Helen, I think there's roofies in this!"

"Of course there are. Don't worry, it's just to loosen you up. They won't take any money now and you won't do anything you truly don't want to do."

I should have cared but I felt lighter than air and charged. Hornier than I should have and it seemed everyone in sight was as well. Danny was sporting an impressive erection and not hiding it whatsoever.

An hour later Catwoman found our table with our cards and receipts. "You are all cleared for the auction. Enjoy your stay."

"Auction?" Danny yelled over the music.

"Shh!" Helen waggled her fingers.

Every table was served a round of drinks before the waiters disappeared and the lights turned low. The band turned the music up until my whole body was throbbing with the beat, almost sexual, and the same pull was on every person there.

The lights came up on the main stage and a man stepped out dressed like a high class porno version of a ringmaster.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen!"

Hoots and hollers greeted him from the audience.

"Tonight we have a wonderful menu, as we have every night. Your fantasies will be paraded before you, all you have to do is pick your sin!"

The music swelled to epic proportions and came down revealing applause. Female waitstaff appeared at the edges of the room, watching the stage and waiting.

Helen leaned in and gave a stage whisper. "When it's done flag a waitress and she'll help you. Make at least three choices so you'll get what you want."

Danny and I nodded like we knew what was happening, and gave each other very unsteady looks.

The emcee stepped aside and the violent pink curtains parted.

A waiter stepped out but now he was dressed in more leather. A loincloth, two bands around his wrists, and matching strappy sandals. The outfit was capped off by a wide lather collar, a scabbard with sword, and a healthy coating of oil.

"Lars here is a genuine Viking raider. He prefers women and only submissives need apply. Lars is twenty nine years old, six foot three inches and seven inches uncut. Ladies, that's Lars."

Nervous giggles as Lars made a turn and stepped back behind the curtain.

The next one out was shorter, black, just as oiled. He wore leather pants and boots, had a whip coiled at his side.

The emcee quieted the few catcalls. "This is Duman, a slaver from the far east. He prefers men and he likes pain, inflicting it. He loves first timers and knows how to train. He's five feet nine inches, thirty four years old, and eight inches cut. Gentleman, that's Duman."

The next man out was slim, whip chord thin, but strong. He was young and blonde, his hair falling into sky blue eyes. No oil on this one, just shiny pale skin.

"Ladies AND gentlemen, this is Marcus. Marcus is a bisexual twenty year old submissive. He will do what you need to please and likes groups. He is twenty two, six feet tall and eight and a half inches uncut."

Whistles and hoots as Marcus disappeared.

The next man out was an act. Another Catwoman led him on a leash. He was short but barrel like and dressed in criss-crossing straps of leather all leading up to his collar.

"This next man is a seasoned favorite. Alex is twenty seven, five feet seven inches tall, six and a half inches cut, fully bisexual, and a true submissive. He is only for highly experienced tops as he has no pain threshold, and you will have to be the one safeguarding him. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Alex."

The next one was very tall and muscled, his dark hair was cut close to his head and he had stubble. His skin tone and eyes hinted at Samoan or Innuit heritage, but his lean body said there was a whole lotta white in him. He wore simple leather pants and a cocky smile.

"Ladies this is Jamel. Jamel is a fully trained masseuse who knows how to treat women right. He has a tongue stud and knows how to use it. Jamel is six feet two inches, eight inches cut, and twenty seven years old."

Thunderous applause and lots of eager nods. I wondered who would get him.

The next set out was an act as well.

A man and a woman, they were both tall and equal height. Their golden hair, large noses and prominent chins said siblings of Nordic descent. He wore a loincloth and a hard expression, she wore a leather bikini Xena would have been proud of, and a demure expression that screamed sexual vulnerability.

"Ladies and only ladies, this is Freyja and Leif. They are twenty three year old fraternal twins who always work together. Certainly a treat for the discriminating woman they are unique. Leif is a dominant who likes submissive women and Freyja is like Alex, must be topped by a master, which our Leif is. Leif is five ten and seven inches uncut. Freyja is one hundred and thirty pounds, thirty six, twenty three, thirty three. Ladies that's Freyja and Leif."

They disappeared and the next man out wore tight satiny pants and a flowy black shirt with open laces.

"Ladies this is Miguel, our Latin lover. He prefers traditional women who want simple romance and pleasure. He is five feet seven inches tall, thirty years old, and six inches cut. Ladies, that's Miguel."

The next man out was swaggering, long blonde hair and red leather pants with fringe like an eighties rocker. "Gentlemen this is Mark. Mark is a dominant and prefers men. He would like nothing more than an untrained man to introduce to the pleasures of submission." The emcee's voice was low and caressing on that last word.

"Mark is five feet eleven inches, nine inches uncut and thirty seven years old. Gentleman, that's Mark."

The next man was native American, done up in a loincloth and feathers in his long black hair, fake vermillion across his cheekbones.

"Ladies, this is Crying Wolf. Crying Wolf prefers high spirited women and likes to have women watch him fuck. He'll do groups but only single file. Crying Wolf is five feet ten inches tall, seven and a half inches uncut and thirty two years old."

Loud applause, he was another favorite. I'm guessing there were a lot of exhibitionists in the crowd as well as voyeurs.

The next man was slim and tall, wore black velvet pants and a flowy white top. His skin was alabaster white and the muscles were more or less implied, not sculpted. His face was startling handsome, swimming in a sea of curly black hair.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do you believe in vampires? Because Jean Phillipe will make you believe. He likes groups or singles, but only experienced lovers. Jean Phillippe has remarkable recovery time such as Crying Wolf. He is six feet one inch, nine inches cut and twenty nine years old."

Whistles and an almost standing ovation won a saucy wink and flick of his hips before he went back behind the curtain. The next man out wore chaps and a little thong over boots with spurs. The cowboy hat was extraneous but suited his sun worn blue eyes.

"Ladies this is Luke, a straight thirty six year old cowboy from Oklahoma. He is five feet nine inches, seven inches cut, and prefers less experienced women. He will show you all you need to know."

Smaller applause and more nervous giggles as Luke disappeared. A brunette with oiled muscles and thick chest hair took his place.

"Gentlemen I present to you Alain. Alain is a rare teat. He is a forty two year old bear, six feet four inches tall and eight inches uncut. He is rare because he is a submissive, but only for exhibitionists. He prefers to have women or couples watch while a man, experienced or novice top, dominates him. Gentleman and ladies, that's Alain."

The next man out was Japanese and lean. He had a six pack and wore silk pants that matched his robe. His Kung Fu loungewear flowed, his hair was long and curtained loose to his shoulders highlighting a very handsome face.

"Ladies and gentleman this is Li. Li is bisexual and a dominate. He prefers mixed couples with a bisexual man and is willing to train novice submissives. Couples or singles willing to interact only, please. Li is five feet ten inches tall, twenty five years old and eight inches uncut."

A shiver ran through me as I thought of yesterday. Whoever took Li was sure to have some fun, but I had already sampled that pleasure.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that was Li and next up is Richard."

He was massively tall, dressed much like the first gladiator in a loincloth and strips of leather. His hair was loose to his collar, red, very deep auburn. He was well muscled and the oil was light.

"Richard is thirty nine, six feet seven inches tall, and nine inches cut. He is a straight dominant and likes true submissives but he has an unusual specialty. Ladies, Richard here turns the best slaves into the best masters."

Something shot through me, a spark, and I knew it would be him.

The next selections were equally tempting, but not for me. Blonde twins who were bisexual doms looking for a mixed couple experienced in submission. Brunette identical triplets looking for two or three women to dominate thoroughly. A redheaded Catwoman who dominated women, and a lanky blonde with an easy smile who only did women, and no games. His name was Bill.

I asked the waitress for Richard or Bill, or Li as a last resort. Helen asked for the triplets and to my surprise, Freyja and Leif. Danny asked for Alain, Marcus or Li.

"I didn't know you were bisexual."

He shrugged. "I prefer men but every now and then..."

"So what happens next?" I asked Helen uncomfortably. How many times had I let Danny see me naked or in slinky underwear? Why had he never said anything, and which was worse; that he was or wasn't attracted to me?

"The waitresses go backstage where there are cameras and present your 'offer' to the men and women. They are the ones who get final choice."

"So we tip them, what?"

"Of your five hundred they get one, of your thousand three hundred go for the tests, five hundred to the house, another two hundred to them. Tipping is discretionary and handled in the morning. You get a full night. If you pick two or three they will double or treble the charges to your account."

"Jeeze."

"It's worth it, trust me."

"How do you know about this place?"

"Another author took me here once. It moves time to time so I had to check to find it. It's highly illegal."

"No shit," Danny mumbled.

A Catwoman came to our table and smiled at Danny. "Li has accepted your offer and eagerly awaits. Please follow me." She turned and Danny scrambled to follow, very eager.

"Wow," I watched him go. "I had no idea he likes women."

Helen stubbed out her cigarette. "He's crafty that way. Bet he got you to hang around naked and wear outrageous lingerie. I bet he pulled the old 'I'm gay so let me help you dress' routine."

I didn't respond, feeling like a fool. She laughed.

Another Catwoman moved through the milling people. She smiled to Helen. "Freyja and Leif have accepted your offer and eagerly await. Please follow me."

"Good luck!" Helen winked as she left.

I downed the last of my whiskey and waited. The tables were half empty now as the waitresses came back. After another five uncomfortable minutes my Catwoman came. "Richard has accepted your offer and eagerly awaits. Please follow me."

Surprise surprise, I'd gotten my first choice.

Catwoman led me to the same golden door everyone else had passed through and inside was a long white hall. We walked and walked and walked until the few people in front of us were all in rooms. Mine was the last one.

She opened the door and flipped on the lights to reveal they were gas lamps. It was like the set of an Erroyl Flynn movie. She opened a cabinet and looked inside then back at me. "Size four?"

"Um, yeah."

She nodded and pulled out some straps. "Let me help you get dressed.

"Dressed?"

She nodded. "What size shoes do you wear?"

"Eleven and a half S, or triple A."

She nodded to my shock but left the room while I disrobed. When she came back I was naked and staring at the straps. She set the shoes down and took the straps gently.

"Let me, it's very confusing the first time. These are cleaned professionally every day, I can assure you, as are the rooms after each use."

The straps criss-crossed my body barely concealing what was legally necessary in public. "If he unhooks the back between your shoulder blades, it all comes off," Catwoman explained.

She had me sit on the bench at the table to put the shoes on. Strewn across the rough wooden table were instruments of torture. Well, okay, so the cuffs were fur lined, and the cat-o-nine tails was surprisingly plush. But there were racks and all sorts of thoughts went through my mind, arousing to say the least. I never knew I'd even like the hint of pain.

"Don't stand too long on the heels. They're five inches because Richard likes tall women. Makes it easier, he says. And trust me, doll, he's worth every penny. He'll be here in a moment. I'll be right back."

She left me then.

The heels were killer. I saw a mirror and knew I had never looked so sexy. But the pain was there, and so I kept still.

The outer door opened and Catwoman was back.

"Forgive me, I had something to attend to." She carried a silver tray with many bumps beneath the white sheet covering it.

"Please step to the end of the table."

I did and stepped onto a small wooden block.

"Put your hands by the clasps."

It made me hunch over and my stomach rested on a nice, comfortable fluffy mat. She shackled me and it left my naked ass in the air. I blushed but she moved about clinically, unmoved.

The tray was set down by my head and the sheet whipped off to reveal implements. Something that looked like a syringe with no needle, some tiny c-clamps, a bottle of lubricant, a jar of Vaseline, some bottles of colored oils and some small tins.

"Now we should set some ground rules. Do you like slaps anywhere but your ass?"

"No."

She nodded and checked off something on a clipboard.

"Do you like scratching?"

"Yes." I had to think about it.