Page 39 of Enthrall
“I’m not allowed.” I raised my hand to let him know I had no intention of going anywhere near there.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, calling the lift. “You’re with me.”
The doors parted and we stared into an open elevator.
Cameron strolled on in and gestured for me to join him. “It’s safer. I don’t want to leave you up here alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“If someone did break in they may be up here now.”
I leaped in and with a push of a button we descended.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” I said.
“They have a knack for spoiling all the fun.”
“Do you really think someone has broken in?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
He shrugged.
“Will you explain this to Richard for me,” I said.
“Of course.”
“I’m actually kind of intrigued.” I felt a jolt of excitement.
Tara had been right about the deep red walls. Soft lighting fell upon the five pieces of furniture, if you could call them that. More appropriately they were beautifully carved, dark stained contraptions. A table positioned in the middle had reams of fine silver chains hanging over it, reaching all the way to the floor. To its right stood a crisscrossed wooden panel with leather handcuffs on either side to stretch out the victim’s arms. Upon the wall hung an assortment of equipment, including paddles, whips, and blindfolds. A chest pushed up against the far wall hid what was probably more torturous accruements. I resisted the urge to take a peek.
What looked like a stock out of the Middle Ages was easily countered by the elegant throne, a velvet cushion before it. To its right hung an enormous steel cage, and farther along more contraptions rested on shelves: silver-link chains, ropes, blindfolds, gags, and what looked like a black pair of gloves with spiked fingertips.
This place set medieval devices against modern in the most startling way. No wonder Richard didn’t want me down here. He probably assumed I’d have bolted on my first day. Yet the soft scent of sandalwood and the womblike aura felt surprisingly calming. My lightheadedness muddled my brain. This risqué decor stirred feelings that had lain dormant, the thrill of delicious intrigue, a throb low in my belly that had no right to make me believe any of this was okay.
A door at the end of the room promised to lead off to more rooms of pain. There was no getting over this was a dangerous place to be in, and how anyone would voluntarily want to be strapped into any of these baffled me.
I turned to see Mistress Scarlet step out of the shadows. Her dominatrix outfit was a mixture of leather and latex. Her gothic-styled eyeliner and mascara highlighting her eyes, and her rouged lips, sharp cheekbones and hair worn back accentuated her commanding presence.
“Hi Scarlet,” I said, hoping that glare of hers wasn’t anger at me for being down here.
“Mia,” she said, tapping the whip in her other hand. “Cameron.”
There came an unsettling feeling she’d been waiting for us. I glanced back at the elevator, wishing I’d brought my cell. Richard might have texted back by now. Though the reception down here might be sketchy. We were way underground.
“We were concerned someone came down here.” Cameron arched an eyebrow.
Scarlet’s gaze slid over to me. “It’s just us.”
Cameron gestured. “Come here, Mia.”
I took the few, short steps toward him, though my gaze stayed on Scarlet, wondering about that whip.
“Come look at this,” he said. “Have you ever seen one of these?”
“What’s it for?” The ornately carved crisscrossed post felt smooth beneath my touch.
