Above the Dungeon

Lying on the soft tarp was like floating, music strumming through my blood and my limbs. The same music, always the same for this. I think Roman had worked with DJ Alex on a suspension play list, and it was comforting and good. Lifehouse, and Matt Kearney, and Sia, every song reminding me to breathe, restful, calming voices soothing me as I waited in stasis for the setup, eyes closed, relaxed and ready.

And then it was time.

The music ended abruptly, and I heard Roman's voice, "DJ, raise it just enough to tighten the chains," and as soon as he gave the command, the slack disappeared and I felt tension in my limbs.

Roman knelt at my head again. "Does everything feel right?"

"Perfect," I told him.

He lifted my wrists and wrapped my fingers around the chains that were attached to the cuffs on my arms. One hand, then the other.

"Nothing is pinching?"

"No."

He went flat onto his stomach then, lying beside me, stroking his hand down my chest, scratching my belly lightly with his fingernails.

"Ready?" he asked.

"God, yes," I answered, and opened my eyes.

Dare was standing at my feet, hands around the S-hooks and chains that held my legs.

Roman got up and stood behind my head, watching those chains and hooks, and I knew he wouldn't look away until he was certain I was safe.

His voice came through the speaker, gentle and soft, "That's it for the music, boys and girls. Jeff and I need to hear each other, no barriers. Here we go. DJ, raise him up."

I clenched my hands into fists around the chains as the lift raised me off the stage. For a few seconds I felt absolutely weightless, but as the I-beam rose higher, gravity pulled, and my body started to argue because my ass wanted to drop to the ground.

"Playtime's over, Jeff," Roman said. "Now you have to work. Straighten out."

It took every muscle I had to stretch out my back, tighten my abs to lift my ass and tilt my hips. The chains dug into my hands as I tried to distribute my weight to my biceps, muscles screaming to do the same with my thighs.

People who think suspension is a passive activity for a bottom have never been suspended.

I'd have muscles that would ache for days, and this was only the beginning.

"DJ, stop there."

Roman's voice was still soft, but carried eerily through the club speakers.

I was hanging in the air, at just about the level of Roman's head. The audience was completely silent.

"Nice, Jeff, very nice."

I worked to breathe in and out evenly, the way I knew he wanted, but it was a constant struggle to keep my body straight, like doing a back float without the aid of water, and I was fighting not to gasp.

"I'm going to give you twenty."

I concentrated on keeping my ass up, and could feel a tremble building in the muscles of my arms and legs.

I didn't know where he'd hidden the flogger, and I didn't know what vantage point Dare watched from, and I didn't know anything until the leather flogger tails slid gently across my thighs, tickled my throat, then hit my chest with a snap.

"Count for me, Beautiful."

"One," I gasped, and it was almost too much to pay attention to.

I felt a sting across my right thigh. "Two," I said, between clenched teeth.

He didn't tease or mess with me, just found his rhythm and steadily helped me count to twenty. By the end, I had tears streaming out my eyes and flowing into my ears and my voice choked on each number.

"Talk to me, Jeff."

"Hurts," I managed to say.

"What hurts?"

"Everything." I was barely there, because all my attention worked to hold my screaming muscles tight, to keep myself up.

"Do you want to come down?"

"No." I could go longer. I knew I was all right.

"Do you need to come down?"

"No."

"Twenty more."

"Seriously?"

"Can you handle it?" Roman asked.

For Roman? Hell, yeah, I could handle anything for Roman. "Yeah."

The flogger came again, but he didn't tell me to count, which was good, because I wasn't capable of keeping track. My eyes were clenched tight, my jaw and my hands and just everything.

I could feel my back end sagging, arms and legs strained almost beyond their limits. When I opened my eyes, the cables and ceiling beams looked alien, I could not have said where I was, and certainly had no awareness of any audience at all. I felt like I'd been suspended forever.

"Halfway there. Ass up," Roman said. And then I felt a sharp, shocking pain at my buttocks.

I yelped and felt a surge of renewed strength. A jolt of electricity will do that.

He said other things to me, I know he did, but I was beyond the ability to hear and process. Roman encouraged me with electricity in between licks with the flogger, and since I wasn't counting, I had no idea where we were at when I passed out.

When I came to, we were on the soft tarp at the far right of the stage, in a kind of alcove behind the DJ's booth. First, I became aware of fingers brushing my face and smoothing through my hair and that I was wrapped in a blanket and held tightly. Shortly after that, I noticed the music that was too loud and the roar of voices trying to talk over it – normal club sounds, but I couldn't stand it. The noise rushed through my ears and filled my head, and I struggled against whatever was holding me down.

I gave a shout, and a shove, and saw that it was Dare holding me, and that made it worse. I felt like I had to get away, to escape, and as I struggled, I felt Roman's hands on my shoulders and heard his voice in my ear commanding, "Stop." And then his voice, louder, "Doc, get me a cab."

A minute later, I was in Roman's arms, cradled against his chest like a baby. The air outside the club was warm but fresh, and it was a relief to sink into the back seat of the taxi, close my eyes, and wait to be home. I was shivering, and crying a little, and I couldn't stop.

"How long did I make it?" I asked.

"Eight minutes," Roman answered.

I tried to laugh, but I was too tired. "Not even the record."

"Great show, though," Roman said, and I let his words comfort me. He startled me by saying, "Dare, you have the water?"

I hadn't even realized that Dare was still tagging along, but I shrugged the blanket off of one shoulder to accept the offered bottle that came from the front passenger seat. Thank God he wasn't a chatterbox. I couldn't have handled that.

I drank it in about three gulps, recapped it, and dropped it to the floor. It was exceptionally rude of me, but the cab driver would have to deal, because I just couldn't.