I hopped off of the bed—fully clothed—and opened the door quickly following Ben down the stairs.
He glanced at me over his shoulder and said, “I’m glad you put on some more clothes. As nice as it would be to see your naked ass I don’t think Gregg would appreciate it. He’s already unhappy enough as it is.” He muttered that last sentence under his breath.
Ben led the way into the kitchen and opened up a door in the wall. He held it open for me and gestured for me to walk through it. Just on the other side of the door was a set of steps that led to what must be the soundproof basement Gregg had mentioned earlier.
The basement was rather plain and uninviting at first glance. Cement walls and floor with an array of furniture you wouldn’t find in the average basement. Along one wall was a low and padded table with four straps on the sides and bottom of it. To restrain a person’s arms and legs, I knew. There was also a wooden display rack of various wooden and leather devices and instruments for bring pleasure or pain—depending on how they were wielded, and a cheap honey-colored fake wooden rack which held a couple of navy colored towels and wash cloths.
“Oh. So you were serious about punishing me?” I didn’t want to imagine what kinds of punishments Ben was capable of meting out on my flesh.
“Nah this is more of a learning exercise than a punishment,” Ben said from behind me.
“Come on down Lissie. You have my word you won’t be hurt.” Gregg held out a hand as I descended the stairs, his expression one of calmness.
Smiling hesitantly I took his hand, using my other arm to wrap it around his chest in a hug. I needed that reassurance that whatever he and/or Ben were about to do to me that I would be okay.
“You told me at the last class you catered that if it weren’t for the fact that you know Chaz would hurt you that you would have no problem telling him what he wants to hear,” Ben said as he joined us. “Is that still true?”
I pulled away from Gregg to nod. “Yes.” I’d felt that way since Chaz had first told me to get out. “I like getting to watch what goes on and listen to what you and the others teach. I-I don’t know if I’d like getting hurt but I wouldn’t mind like a crash course in being dominated.”
Ben smiled with satisfaction. “I’m glad you said that Jules because a crash course is what you’re about to begin. Gregg said you have no plans for the weekend and seeing as how the roads just aren’t that safe for you to go traveling on, we decided that you’re going to stick around here through Monday. Do you have any catering events or things to do on Monday?”
“I’d have to check with Stacy, our manager and events coordinator, to be sure but I don’t think so.”
Ben pulled out a cell phone. “Give her a call right now. Find out when you next need to do something.”
With a frown I took the phone and dialed Stacy’s number.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling and texting you like crazy, girl! You just took off last night with little warning! The mayor was looking for you. He totally wants us to cater his annual Christmas party at his place and—”
“Okay, okay one thing at a time,” I laughed. Stacy had a habit of talking fast. She was my nineteen-year-old part-time employee and fulltime friend. “I um had an unexpected…thing…pop up last night and had to leave. I’m really sorry. But everything went okay, right? No major problems and I assume everyone cleaned up?”
“Yup the rest of the night went off without a hitch and we were packed and ready to leave just after one in the morning.”
“Good.” I breathed a sigh of relief. With everything that had happened since first being grabbed by those three guys I’d completely forgotten about the party I’d been at last night and my business. I pulled the phone away from my ear and covered the receiver.
“Do you know where those guys who grabbed me put my bag? I had an oversized purse with me when I left with them.”
“In the front hall closet,” Gregg answered.
I nodded and smiled my thanks. With my attention again on Stacy I said, “Sorry I haven’t returned any calls or anything. I’ve um been a little busy.”
“Yeah, I saw you take off with those three guys. That young hottie who was with them is Tucker Johnson. He’s Gregg’s personal assistant. I’ve um seen him around before. He’s nice.”
Personal assistant, huh? I wondered what the other two did for Gregg. “Yes. Yeah, that’s who I am with.”
“Am—oh my gosh! No way! The Kinky Virgin is no more?” Stacy cackled loudly in my ear.
Kinky Virgin was her nickname for me. She knew of my love for catering things at The Dungeon.
“So you’re still with Mr. Money Pants?”
“Mr. Money Pants,” I mocked. Of all things to call Gregg ‘Mr. Money Pants’ wasn’t something I would say that fit him.
“Yeah that’s what people call him. He owns a Laundromat that features free WiFi and a vending machine that stocks really good coffee and tea. They call him Mr. Money Pants ’cause any time he finds money in the lint trap he adds it to a container of money he’s raising for the local children’s hospital. He’s notorious for loving the change he finds in his machines.”
Aw! That was kind of cute. And weird. But mostly cute.
“Well look, getting back on track is there anything going on that I need to tend to Monday?”
“Let me take a look…” I heard Stacy fire up her laptop and waited for her to check the calendar she kept on it. “Nope, looks like you’re clear until Tuesday afternoon. You’re meeting with a couple who want to talk about getting a fortieth anniversary party catered. That’s at two-thirty. Want me to be there, boss?”
“Okay, great. Yeah, I don’t know if Jean will be free so if you can be there that would be great.”
“Okay cool. So should I just call this number again if I need you?”
“No! Um I’ll have to find my phone…which is probably dead by now…” I reminded myself to ask Gregg where the bag I’d had with me last night was.
Gregg tapped me on the shoulder and handed me an ivory velum business card. I looked at it and recited the cell phone number listed there to Stacy, telling her to only call it in an absolute emergency, and then ended the call.
Ben took his cell phone back and told me to follow him. He led me over to a cement wall which had something that looked like handcuffs taken apart hanging from it about five feet up from the cement tiled floor. Wall manacles, I thought they were called.
“Face the wall and put your wrists into them.” Ben snapped the steel cuffs around my wrists as I did so.