Sometimes the difference between fear and excitement is having a guide. That’s why it’s fun to walk through a cave as part of a tour group and not if you’re alone and lost.
Speaking of caves, I should have been terrified. I’d woken up in a strange, underground place, full of mystery and a hint of foreboding. I now knew it was a basement… no, The Basement. And if I had been there alone I probably would have been freaking out.
But I had a guide. Geena.
She offered me her hand and I took it, rising on unsteady legs from the wooden chair I had been bound to. I took a moment to take stock of both myself and my surroundings. I was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers on my feet, and felt somehow both over- and under-dressed beside the two women before me, who were looking elegant in their silk robes. Geena’s was cherry red, and it made her pale skin seem almost luminescent, like the way a full moon glows. Jazmin’s was acid green and, combined with her head of coiled red braids, made her seem like she was some kind of wild, exotic bird. One with a very, very sharp beak that you shouldn’t get too close to.
I rubbed my arms self-consciously. “I never knew the Queen Building had a basement.”
“Two basements, actually,” said Jazmin regally, tilting her chin up with a certain look of pride. “We call the lower levels ‘The Basement’ but there are two levels. Which means that eleven percent of this building is all The Basement.”
Geena shot Jazmin a gooey look; Geena is easily turned on by a lot of things, and a quick, sharp mind is one of them. I frowned. The Bookshoppe is one of Geena’s favorite places in the whole world; knowing that this had been under it all along, without me even knowing, felt like I had been left out some kind of inside joke.
“When were you going to tell me?” I asked.
“When I thought you were ready,” said Geena. “Mike, I’ve been training you up to come here for months. I was thinking maybe it could be a birthday present. But, well… that party kind of disrupted things, didn’t it?”
I lowered my eyes in shame. I didn’t like being reminded of my mistake.
“I’m not mad, Mike. I told you that already. I was disappointed and, well… worried. But, fortunately, everything turned out okay. And now that you’re here, we can focus on the important things. Like the history of the Queen Building!” The last part came out gleefully; Geena hugged herself, her breasts nearly popping right out of her silk robe. Jazmin laughed softly and reached over to run one of her hands down Geena’s thick, dark hair.
“Madame Xara has done very much for this building. And for this city, even,” said Jazmin.
“Madame… Xara?” I repeated.
“The owner. She’s the one who bought this building and who made The Basement,” explained Geena. “Mike, don’t you ever wonder about why our college is so… unique? About where all the money comes from in this town? It’s all The Basement. This building isn’t just a historical landmark. It’s an international sensation! And a big, open secret, for the right people to discover when they’re ready. There are events here all the time; don’t you ever wonder about all the tourists in this town, why the hotels are always full?”
“I just thought those were really enthusiastic alumni,” I admitted with a shrug.
“Oh, many of them are,” said Jasmin breezily.
Geena chuckled and squeezed my hand. “The Basement is the lifeblood of this town. Some people call it Second Circle, or the Den of Pleasure, or the Capital of Concupiscence–”
“You made that last one up,” interjected Jazmin.
“–but to us, it only needs to be The Basement. Because words can’t do it justice. Which is why I think Jazmin and I should offer us a tour, and if we like what you see, perhaps we can come back some other time. Deal?” continued Geena.
“Deal,” I agreed readily. Anyplace that was so enchanting to Geena was definitely a place I wanted to know more about! “Wait… why did you say ‘us?’ Haven’t you been here? You sound like you already know all about it.”
Geena grinned sheepishly and shook her head. “I only know about it from Jazmin. I’ve… heard stories. I was saving my first trip because I thought we could go together and it would be a fun surprise.”
“Oh, no,” I said, chewing my lower lip in concern.
“It’s fine, Mike. We’re here together, just like I planned, and you were surprised, weren’t you?” asked Geena.
“…true,” I said, considering. “I guess it worked out, after all. So you’ve really never been here?”
“No, but Jazmin told me all about it. Well, and before you came here, she showed me a couple of places… like the Library, and the Mistress Lounge.”
“There’s a library down here?!”
“If you two would stop talking, I could show you,” huffed Jazmin, folding her arms.
“Yes, let’s go. Come on, Mike!” Geena grabbed me and tugged; I shut up because, like her, I was immensely curious to see outside of this one little room.
“This will make the Zeta Kappa Theta mixers look like a very dull child’s birthday party,” Jazmin informed me. She never quite looked right at me, as if I was too insignificant for her. It didn’t seem like intentional rudeness, simply that Jazmin was so elevated in her station that she wasn’t used to casual interaction at all. I had to wonder about her; did she work here? Why hadn’t I ever seen her around town? I was certain I would have remembered her, because her look was so distinctive, from her lavish hair to her queenly expression to even the little gap between her front teeth.
“Lead the way,” I said, and I squeezed Geena’s hand back. With her other hand, she reached for Jazmin; Jazmin took it, lacing their fingers with an old familiarity. The chain of us moved toward the door.
“We are currently in the north wing, very close to the entrance. But I will not be taking us on the usual tour route for guests,” said Jazmin in a clipped tone. Her accent, I noticed, had gotten less pronounced; I could imagine her leading tours through this place, carefully enunciating her words so everyone could hear and understand her. “We will walk south, along the east side of the building, so that he can see the Mercury Room. You have not seen it yourself, Geena, darling; it has been set up already for next weekend and there is some training there, so we must look, even briefly. That will place us near the south entrance, where the Grand Hall is, and you may exit there.”
“But what about the west side?” asked Geena.
“It would take us hours and hours to explore all that The Basement has to offer. Do you expect me to spend my whole night amusing you and your boy toy?” demanded Jazmin.
“No, mistress,” said Geena with soft reverence.
“A one-hour tour will be enough for him. Perhaps even too much. Many visitors are overwhelmed initially. …as were you, if I recall correctly,” added Jazmin, a hint of fondness in her voice and a small, coy smile playing across her lips.
“I like libraries,” grumbled Geena a little defensively.
“I know, my darling, I know. Don’t worry; you can return soon. With my recommendation you will be welcome. And if your boy behaves himself on the tour, I might offer two recommendations.”
I gave one last glance back at the room we had exited. The poured concrete floor, the hanging red tapestries on the walls to dampen noise, the rack with all of the instruments of pleasure and pain. The discarded water bottles and the used plug.
“What about–” I began.
“We have staff to clean up,” said Jazmin dismissively. She tugged Geena out into the hall, and Geena tugged me. We left the room, its warm candlelight still flickering after us, and shut the door behind us.
We were in a long, wide hallway. It was so wide you probably could have driven a car through it! It was carpeted and there was a runner over the carpet, and the whole hallway felt strangely hushed. I guess you could say it was a liminal space, like a hotel hallway at night, a between-place that was meant to be used, but not occupied. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Along the wall there were regularly placed wall sconces, but the low-wattage bulbs were very soft. The carpet was a royal, navy blue, and the runner over it was a deep, burgundy red. It felt very formal. Even if I hadn’t known we were underground, I could have guessed; there was a sort of weight to the place, a heaviness in the air The walls were papered with a black design that featured little gold stars and suns and moons; I couldn’t help but be surprised at how much effort had gone into decorating just this hallway. There was no furniture, no decorations; the only thing at all to see was the hallway itself, and the closed doors lining it, all of them made of dark wood that was only a shade lighter than Jazmin’s skin. Each door was marked with brass plates that had Roman numerals on them; we had just come out of room XVIII.
Jazmin turned right and began walking. She was so tall and her stride was so long that Geena and I had to half-walk, half-jog. Both of us huffed along behind her; Geena jiggled inside her robe, every bounce threatening to free her bosom. Even though she and Jazmin were both barefoot and wearing only their thin, silk robes, I felt like they belonged here; wearing jeans I felt even more out of place than before. Like I was offending the fancy hallway by being improperly dressed in it.
“These are the private suites. There are many in The Basement, as well as private studios. But our tour will be focused on the larger rooms and public spaces,” said Jazmin, waving a hand past the numbered doors as we passed them. “Studios and suites must be reserved, but guests are free to use the public spaces to their liking.”
The hallway had a gentle curve to it, so that it was impossible to see to either end. Jazmin led us with her purposeful stride around the bend, and we found ourselves at a fork. There was a plaque on the wall with several arrows and several exotic names on it: Aphrodite Suite, Eros Spa, Aurora Concierge, Oshun Courtyard, Min Suite, Milda Studio, Hedone Holding Dept., Grand Ballroom, and, oddest of all, Library.
Jazmin considered the sign. “We shall begin, I think, with the rope room and the Hedone Holding Department.”
“That sounds good,” I said, as if I had any say in the matter. I knew, already, I was in over my head and the women were running the show! More specifically, Jazmin. I felt utterly insignificant, like the pet of a pet, but I couldn’t help but enjoy myself. I was just grateful to be there, sharing this sacred place with Geena. Seeing how she responded to Jazmin, and seeing this secret, special place with her, I was so in awe I probably would have agreed to a tour of the bathrooms and the janitorial closets.
Jazmin turned smartly to the right and led us down another hallway. The doors here were spaced further apart and the hall was even wider than the one we’d just left. I got the impression it was a sort of central through-fare. The width of it implied that the facility was massive; knowing how big the Queen Building was (it took up a whole city block and was the tallest in the Old Town district), I could only imagine how huge The Basement must be.
Jazmin stopped in front of a large, heavy-looking, intricately carved wooden door. Yue-Lao’s Red String Room, read the brass plaque mounted there.
“Before we enter,” said Jazmin, turning and looming over me, “be aware that you are a guest here. You are to be seen and not heard. You are not to get in anyone’s way. We expect you to act with utmost respect.”
“Mike will,” said Geena, squeezing my hand, and I understood that she expected me to behave because if I didn’t, it would reflect badly on her. That was all the motivation I needed; I nodded.
As for Geena, I understood that she was Jazmin’s guest, but I didn’t think anyone would have looked twice at her as a trespasser. With her silk robe, full breasts, air of confidence, and sex-tumbled hair, Geena looked every bit as much of a Mistress as Jazmin did. She fit right in already!
Jazmin pulled open the door and stepped inside.
I followed Geena and gaped at the large room before us. It was the size of a small hotel ballroom, and strewn around it were all types of furniture: chairs, benches, crosses. All were heavy, and beside each, there were elegant, wheeled, wrought-iron trays with skeins of rope of all sorts, in every imaginable color, thickness, and material. Soft, thin, gauzy materials like the kind you’d wrap a mummy in, and great, thick, coiled ropes that looked like they would anchor a ship to its mooring.
We were not alone. There were seven other people in the room.
One was tied to a St. Andrew’s cross, naked, his limbs spread into an X shape, purple and gold binds wound over his wrists and ankles and even his neck. Two women wearing black skirts were moving around him like he was a maypole, happily weaving intricate patterns across his skin. The only thing he was wearing was a silver metal cock cage, and even from across the room, I could see him straining in it.
The other two couples were to our left; two men were kneeling, their heads down, wearing harnesses completely made of rope that went across their chests and backs, and pinned their arms behind their back. Two women were standing over them; one looked up and smiled when she saw us.
“Mistress Jazmin, hello! I was just showing Lexie some tricks.”
“Ah, now this is a treat. Marika is one of our resident shibari madames,” said Jazmin. She strode over to Marika and Lexie, bringing Geena and I with her.
“So would you say you’re showing Lexie the ropes?” asked Geena brightly.
Marika rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, I should tie you up just for that!”
Jazmin tried not to smile but even she, with her stern demeanor, couldn’t help but grimace good-naturedly at the joke. “This is Geena, one of my… pupils. This is her first tour of The Basement.”
“First and a half, sort of,” said Geena.
“Welcome! You could take a dozen tours and never see the same things twice; we like to keep things exciting in here,” said Marika. I stood back a little, shifting on my feet. Neither of the two bound men looked up.
“I have put many of the skills you’ve taught me to good use, as I’m sure Geena will someday, as well. Let me demonstrate,” said Jazmin. She examined the cordages on the tray beside Marika and then selected a red one. “To match that lovely robe and those sexy lips,” she said, turning to Geena with a smile.
Geena beamed back and stuck out her hand. Jazmin tugged a loose end of the bundle and it slid apart easily, like the way a bow does if you’ve tied it just right. The rope uncoiled to the ground. Jazmin tossed a few lengths loosely over Geena’s arm, criss-crossing them and slipping loops through each other in a dizzying dance. And then, all at once, she pulled it tight, and the laces cinched into a zig-zag up Geena’s arm, like a sleeve, leaving no ends loose at all.
“Very nice!” said Marika approvingly. “It’s good to know you haven’t lost your touch; you missed my refresher course last week, you know.”
“I was at a needle demonstration,” said Jazmin, picking out another bundle. “Leg, little one.”
Geena opened her robe, exposing her voluptuous body; one of the two bound men couldn’t help but look up. Marika reached out and swatted him. “No gawking! Lexie, hand me that orange piece there.”
Lexie handed Marika the orange piece and she began casting lengths of rope over his head and shoulders, but I was more interested in what Jazmin was doing. She had knelt, but it was clear she was still the one in control as she wound the rope around Geena’s thigh, lacing a matching garter around her leg in a beautiful design that complimented the rope decoration on her arm. Geena stood there with her robe open and her toe pointed out, smiling, and my eyes flickered between Geena’s enraptured expression and the woven knots pressing into her flesh, the red and white pattern there drawing the eye to her porcelain skin.
Jazmin tightened the rope and then leaned in without warning, kissing Geena between the red. Geena shivered, full-body, making her loose robe flutter. I felt my groin swell and a confusing mismatch of jealousy and lust.
“Beautiful,” said Jazmin, rising.
“Very,” agreed Marika, turning. The bound man’s eyes had been covered with a zig-zag design. A blindfold, made of rope! I felt like Marika could probably make anything she liked. Beside her, Lexi had grabbed the arms of one of the men and lowered him, face-first, to the floor, and bent his legs forward to begin hog-tying him. “Shibari is a versatile art that combines functionality with creativity. You can make something beautiful but also something practical. It’s so much better than simply using cuffs!”
“Cuffs have their place,” said Jazmin neutrally, plucking a third bundle from Marika’s tray table. “Turn around,” she instructed Geena. Geena turned and shrugged off her robe, holding it loosely with the arms so that it pooled in the small of her back, exposing her bare shoulders. Jazmin reached around her, her eyebrows knitted up in concentration as she looped the rope over and around Geena’s body. What was she doing? I didn’t know, but I could see Geena trembling with excitement and enjoyment.
When she finally turned, I saw that she had looped red ropes around each of Geena’s heavy boobs, framing each like a piece of art; they acted as anchors, with the rope slung around the back of Geena’s neck like a halter top. The design was perfectly balanced so that it flared out from Geena’s collarbone and down to her breasts, but then came together again to form a knotted diamond over Geena’s heart.
“A harness?” breathed Geena, looking delighted.
“A yoke for my little pet, to carry around those heavy weights on our tour,” said Jazmin, smiling.
I felt green with envy… not only was Geena already crazy about Jazmin, but Jazmin was talented, too! I wished I could do something dramatic with the rope, but the only knot I knew how to tie was my shoes and I doubted that would impress Geena much.
“We will leave you to your instruction; may Geena keep her little ornaments? I do love seeing my girl so dolled up.” Jazmin smiled, flashing her white teeth.
“Of course! I have plenty to work with,” said Marika, waving a hand around the room. On the other side, the man with the purple and gold ropes was whimpering as the women twirled thin threads around his balls, tasseling his bound cock like it was a Christmas ornament. I felt my erection get heavier. I tried to look elsewhere but the bright red rope kept drawing my eyes back to Geena. She had pulled her robe back up but left it open, to show off her artwork, I guess.
“Enjoy,” said Jazmin, turning. “Come, Geena.” She took Geena’s hand and led her gently to the exit; I followed, my mouth wet.
I didn’t speak until we were back in the hallway and the door was closed behind us. “You said Marika was a… resident?”
“We have many professionals here,” said Jazmin. “I am one of them. Geena is only my student, but a very good one. Perhaps someday she might take a residency, if it were offered?” She tilted Geena’s chin up and bent down to kiss her. My ears warmed. I had to admit I was proud of Jazmin’s praise of my girlfriend, but part of me was also deeply envious at the way Geena responded to Jazmin! And worse, I could understand it completely; Jazmin was clearly strict but also exciting and spontaneous. The way she’d decorated Geena’s limbs with that red rope, and then cinched up her breasts into a makeshift harness, with so much expertise and confidence… it was intimidating!
“Now, we shall go to the Hedone Holding Department. This is adjacent to our training facility for our stock,” said Jazmin, turning and leading us to the next stop on the tour. “You see, our residents do not only cater to clients or students. We also keep stock–”
“Short for livestock,” Geena whispered to me, leaning over to bump shoulders with me affectionately.
“–for them to practice on and play with. We are very selective with our stock to ensure they are suited to the position. Here, we have an understanding that they will be cared for and attended to, but that theirs is a position of willful servitude.”
“I get that,” I said, nodding.
“I did not ask,” said Jazmin. My ears warmed again. Geena must have intuited my embarrassment at this admonishment because she looped her arm, the one without the rope on it, through my arm, leading me along beside her. I felt a little encouraged that she would want to show me off as hers, even with my jeans and the tent inside them.
“So the, erm, ‘livestock’ is… volunteers?” I asked, trying to get back on her good side.
“You’ll see,” said Jazmin mysteriously.
We turned down another hallway. The plaque on the wall here had six arrows pointing left, and only one pointed right, but we turned right. This hallway was short, a dead-end; at the end was a door with the words Hedone Holding Dept. on it.
“This room can be a bit loud. Do not touch the stock,” Jazmin instructed me.
She opened the door and we stepped inside.
At first I was confused; this room felt more industrial and far less elegant than the last. It was very small, with a tiled floor and a kiosk against the far wall. Beside the kiosk was a plain, unmarked white door. Sitting behind the desk, a single woman with a pair of glasses and a brown ponytail sat in an office chair, her heels up on the desk and her ankles crossed, blowing a bubble with her gum and writing on a clipboard. She looked like a bored librarian; she looked up as we entered, and the bubble popped.
“Madame Jazmin. Are you checking out number 14 early?” she asked. Her voice had a twang of something southern in it.
“Touring,” said Jazmin. “This is my treasured disciple, Geena, and her little boy toy. They’re getting their first look at The Basement.”
“Is he interested in applying for a position?” asked the woman, lowering her glasses to squint at me. I shuffled my feet, wishing I were wearing something more appropriate than my regular clothes.
“Oh, no, Mike’s mine,” said Geena quickly, tugging me close to her and patting my arm. “He just likes to see new things. Can we take a quick peek in the back, please, Paige?”
Paige shrugged a little. “I don’t see why not. Right now they’re on their ten-minute milking session so they’re a bit preoccupied, but feel free to go take a gander. Oh, and Jazmin, I do still have number 14 reserved for you this evening, but if you want to grab him now–”
“No, I will return after I finish showing Geena around,” said Jazmin curtly.
“Very good,” said Jazmin, with a nod.
Paige unhooked her ankles and pulled her feet off the desk. I caught a brief glimpse of brown hair between her legs; she wasn’t wearing any panties, which shattered the whole “bored librarian” vibe I had gotten earlier. Paige, like Jazmin or Marika, was clearly one of the resident Mistresses here. She leaned forward to press a button, the door beside her buzzed. Jazmin walked over to it and opened it, gesturing for us to enter.
I stepped inside and immediately gasped, my hand flying to my face.
The holding room was filled with stalls separated by iron grates, and standing in each was a man. They were held in place with loose chains on their hands, necks, and ankles, keeping their legs open, and between their legs were fuck machines anchored to the ground, softly pumping away. Every one of them had a thick dildo sliding in and out of their ass, and running the length of the wall was a machine with small, suctioning tubes attached to their cocks.
Paige had mentioned a “milking session” but I hadn’t realized what she meant. Now, Jazmin’s use of the word “stock” made sense!
She came in after us and walked into the aisle. On either side of her, the men in their stalls, hooked up to the fuck machines and pumps, looked up, a few moaning at the sight of her.
The room was indeed noisy; the pneumatic sound of the pumping fuck machines made it so Jazmin had to raise her voice.
“In order to keep our stock happy and ready to serve, we ensure they get regular release. This room helps to train them to be responsive and submissive. Paige keeps the records and the training schedule; most of the stock is here on a six-month contract, but many renew it each semester. This one’s been here four years,” she said, gesturing. In front of each stall was a steel bar, and on it was a small, plastic tag with a number and some notes. I glanced down at the nearest one.
#6. Masochism level 2, submission 4, sounding pre-training. Residency 3 mo. Reserved Tues, Thurs.
In his stall, #6 was rocking softly into the steady suction of the cock sleeve while the fuck machine rhythmically pumped in and out of him. His eyes were closed and his face was one of pure bliss.
“The stock is critical to ensuring all the madames have instruments to practice and demonstrate on,” continued Jazmin. Before, she had ignored me; now, she was looking right at me! And I knew why; she was watching my reaction. The idea of being locked into a stall, shackled in place, and milked was enticing, and my cock was straining in my pants at the idea of it. I didn’t dare touch myself under Jazmin’s sharp glare.
“Of course, we ensure they have recreational time to play with one another. They’re all terribly addicted to pleasure; even when they’re not in service or training, they tend to hang out in the stock suites and enjoy the toys we put out for them,” said Jazmin. She looked like she was trying not to laugh at me. “Do you like to play with toys, Mike?”
I nodded mutely, trying not to cream my pants. The relentless whisper of all those machines working over all those lucky guys! I had no idea stuff like this even existed.
“We should leave them to their training; we don’t want to distract them,” said Jazmin. “I’ll see you tonight, Number 14.”
Number 14, a tall Black man with rock-hard abs, let out a moan and came. The tube that was sucking on him stopped; apparently there was a sensor to ensure it didn’t overstimulate him. But the fuck machine on the floor kept pumping in and out of him.
Jazmin turned and walked out. I took one last look over my shoulder at the little farm of “stock” being milked before I left. The boring little office Paige occupied felt completely different now that I knew what was behind the white door.
“Thank you, Paige,” said Jazmin as we exited.
“Anytime! Ya’ll come back soon, now!” said Paige, cracking another bubble in farewell.
In the hallway, Geena cast a smile in my direction and reached down, gently undoing the button of my jeans and easing down my zipper. “Don’t want you to be too uncomfortable for the rest of the tour,” she whispered to me.
“This place is really intense, like another world,” I whispered back. “I should’ve came like you did before the tour started. I didn’t know it was going to be so…”
“Special? When Jazmin and I met at the Bookshoppe, and she first told me about it, I thought she was pulling my leg! Isn’t it amazing?”
I nodded. Geena’s face was radiant with excitement; this place was like heaven for her, a place that could finally cater to her insatiable sexual appetite, her desire for new experiences and adventure, and her love of learning.
“I have waited a long time to bring you here,” said Jazmin. “When you lifted your first flog I knew you were in love.” Her voice was tender, and I could tell she was smiling.
I frowned. In love? I knew Jazmin meant with the flog, but still! What was I, chopped liver?!
But Jazmin saying that she had waited a long time implied that Geena could have come here, earlier, and had chosen to wait for me. I felt a swell of gratitude. It made me a little clingy; I reached for her hand and she let me hold it and we retraced our steps back down the main hallway, past the plaque and to the next stop on our tour.
“I do not want you to get the impression that The Basement is meant for male pleasure. This is a woman’s domain, and our focus is on our own power,” said Jazmin.
(As if I could think otherwise!)
She stopped in front of a new door. “This is the Eros Spa. It is a place for relaxation, where the Madames may rest. Of course, we do have a grooming salon in the back for the boys. Perhaps we could wax that hairy chest of yours.”
I looked down; my shirt was old, and the loose, baggy collar showed a small bit of my chest hair. I blushed and tried to pull it up, but Geena plunged one of her soft hands down my neckline to rub my chest.
“Aww, I like his big hairy chest!”
“Perhaps his ass, then?”
“Geena!” I squeaked in protest.
Geena laughed. “Stop teasing, Jazmin!”
Jazmin opened the door to the spa. Unlike the Hedone Holding Department, the Eros Spa was anything but soulless or industrial. The moment we stepped in I caught a huge breath of eucalyptus, lavender, gardenia, and mint. A heavenly mixture of smells. The lobby area of the spa was mostly empty except for a white fountain in the middle, trickling merrily. The floor was white tile, but not the cheap, flat squares in the Hedone Holding Department, but the small kind you’d use to make a mosaic. Along the edges of the room were lush tropical plants. Past it, I could see the body of the spa, which reminded me of a Roman bath; there were two rows of columns that probably influenced this impression. In the middle was a long pool with water so clear that it looked unreal. Ripples came from a small fountain on the opposite side. The pool was lined with a gorgeous, deep blue tile stone; the rest of the room was all smooth white stones, irregular in shape but fitted together precisely. The floor was heated and the air was thick with humidity. There were no windows, of course, but plenty of light, both from wall sconces and from flickering candles, both of which gave everything a fuzzy warmth that helped soften all the bright whiteness of the tile. Along the pool, women lounged nude, their plump breasts rising and falling as they breathed. A few were in the water, but most seemed to be content to lie there. I saw only a few men, also naked; they wore collars with bowties on them, and they were standing by the women, some rubbing shoulders and others holding trays with fresh fruit and flutes of champagne.
“Our spa has eight different saunas,” said Jazmin as she walked in, waving to a few of the women, who waved back.
I kept my head ducked, pressing myself against Geena, my protector and escort. I normally don’t like being naked in front of people I don’t know, but here, even Geena and Jasmine seemed over-dressed; wearing street clothes felt way weirder than if I had been completely naked!
“To the right, here, we’ve got a Himalayan salt room, a jade room, a dry sauna with herbal infusions, a clay sauna, an ice sauna, and a bulgama. And to the left here we’re all set up for massages, scrubs, wraps, and facials. All of our tea, coffee, champagne, kombucha, and other refreshments come from Chez Esmée, upstairs.”
Chez Esmée was one of the fanciest restaurants in town, located in one of the upper floors of the Queen Building. I had no idea it catered to this kind of place!
“Are you listening?” demanded Jazmin suddenly.
“He’s listening. Just drinking it in,” Geena reassured her, reaching up to ruffle my hair. She pointed. “I’ve never been to this spa, but I’ve been to one before, and I love clay rooms. Jazmin, remember that one Saturday, when I lost track of time and ran to our session from the spa?”
“And had little red streaks all over your thighs? You looked like you had already been spanked!” said Jazmin.
The two laughed, their voices echoing across the walls like windchimes.
“Can I see the clay room?” I asked, desperate to be closer to this newfound part of Geena’s history.
“No, we have too much to see, and the clay room is only for mistresses and their guests.”
“I’m a guest.”
“No, you are Geena’s guest and Geena is not yet a mistress.”
“She’s my mistress,” I muttered as softly as I could, so that Jazmin wouldn’t hear me. It didn’t escape me that Jazmin had said yet, as if she was sure that Geena would someday be here running the place. To be honest, I could picture it.
Jazmin was more experienced than Geena, and older, too, and Geena treated her with due respect, but I could see already how different their styles were. They were complete opposites, inside and out. Jazmin was all hard angles and seriousness; Geena was soft and fun and tender. That Geena had developed her own, independent style despite Jazmin’s tutelage showed a certain character that I felt proud of, and that I’m sure Jazmin recognized, as well.
“Through here is the Oshun courtyard; we’ll cross it to our next stop,” said Jazmin, parading our little group through the central spa and toward a door. She opened it and I stepped out into what appeared to be a botanical garden, filled with trees and thick tropical plants. I blinked in confusion.
“I thought this was a basement?” I asked, looking up, wondering where the natural light was coming from.
“It is. This room has a skylight to a private room within the Queen Building’s main floor. If you know where to go, you can look down into it,” explained Geena. “I’ve looked down here before. It’s so fun. Jazmin, remember the time we flashed the stock and put our boobs on the glass, and they went nuts?”
“I can’t believe you talked me into that!” groaned Jazmin. She shook her head, then continued, “The stock need to get some fresh air and sunshine, so there is a little pen for them here,” said Jazmin, waving a hand around. I looked up; through the leaves, I could see a wide pane of glass and some sky, but nothing beyond it.
“Let me show you something,” said Jazmin, leading us along a winding little stone path that ended up at a tree; it was some kind of ficus, with flat, waxy green leaves that drooped down around it. She pulled the curtain of leaves aside and stepped inside; I ducked and followed her.
She pointed to the truck of the tree and I leaned in. Tiny initials were carved all over it. And where one of Jazmin’s pointed nails was indicated, I saw it: J+G.
“Jazmin and Geena,” I spat out bitterly.
“Jazmin and Geena!” exclaimed Geena. “Oh, Jazmin, that’s so sweet!”
“It’s not merely sweet. This tree carries the initials of every resident mistress and her pupils, as well as her most treasured subs who have earned a place here. This tree has been here since the courtyard was built. They say it sat on the property before the building was even built, and the diggers thought it was so beautiful they simply left it and built the whole building around it. It sat in the lobby until Madame Xara moved it down here when she purchased the lot. This tree represents permanent, enduring things… that is why initials carved here mean so much to us. I hope you understand the significance, Geena; you are only the second person whose initials I have ever carved beside mine.”
Geena’s eyes watered and she reached for Jazmin. I took a tiny step back, under the canopy, feeling awkward to be witnessing this private moment. The two of them hugged and then kissed, a deep, heavy kiss, holding each other’s faces and tangling their tongues. I looked up at the leaves of the ficus and wondered who watered it.
After several long minutes, they finally parted, and then Jazmin pulled back the leaves. “Come. We still have so much to see.” She was already walking away; Jazmin always seemed to be in a hurry.
Geena nodded but didn’t go after her immediately; instead, she suddenly hugged me, putting her hand on the back of my head and burying my face into her cleavage. “Someday I’d like to be a mistress, and add an M to my G,” she murmured, and I felt the jealousy ebb out of my body as I listened to her heartbeat.
“…really?” I asked.
“Of course, Mike.”
“YOU TWO BETTER NOT BE MAKING OUT UNDER OUR SACRED CARVING TREE!” barked Jazmin.
Geena laughed and pulled away. “No, Mistress Jazmin!” she called. “Come on, Mike.” She pulled me out from the little leafy tent to scurry after our tour guide.
The courtyard wasn’t big but it seemed bigger because of how twisty all the paths were. We exited through a different door than the one we had come in, into yet another long, subterranean hallway.
“This is our studio corridor. Here, we can produce audiovisual art for distribution. Many of our clients collect unique videos and we curate content tailored to their needs,” said Jazmin as we strolled along. “We can create any kind of personalized, unique video one wants to see. Ah, this studio has an interesting project set up in it; let me show you.”
She pulled open a door and entered. I stepped in after her, curious.
The room was filled with stands of lights like a movie set, and in the middle there was a rectangular glass tank. Inside it, I could see a man standing, arms tied behind his back and eyes covered with a blindfold. There was a stand between his legs and a thick dildo was securely pressed inside him. But none of that was the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was that he was wearing a mask securely over his mouth and nose, and bubbles were coming from it… the whole tank was filled with water!
“Madame Lorelei, this is my little girl, Geena,” said Jazmin.
I hadn’t seen Madame Lorelei at first; when I did I gasped. Reclining on a long day bed was a plump, tan woman with elaborate seafoam-green makeup and glitter around her eyes. Her breasts were bared, her skin still wet with water. But her lower half was sleeved in a huge, glistening blue mermaid tail!
“Hello, Jazmin. Pleased to meet you, Geena. I was just taking a quick break from filming.”
“Ohhh, this is pretty!” exclaimed Geena, bounding over to look at the tail.
“Thanks! It’s custom latex, from downstairs,” said Lorelei, moving her legs a little to flip the fins of the tail at us. “It’s surprisingly easy to swim in. But it’s a bit big… I might need to get a bigger tank.”
In the middle of the room, the man in the tank bubbled quietly.
“Is he okay in there?” I asked in alarm.
“Of course! He’s having the time of his life. Don’t worry, I never leave him unmonitored. I asked him if he wanted out earlier but he likes staying in character,” said Lorelei. “Grape?” She offered a grape to Geena. Geena leaned in to eat it from her fingers.
“Mike,” warned Jazmin sharply.
“It’s okay, I like when people ask about my work,” said Lorelei. “I would love to tell you all about it, but I’m behind schedule… I keep getting distracted.” She reached up to rub one of her nipples, grinning; Geena and Jazmin both grinned as well, but I blushed at how forward she was.
“Well, then, we won’t keep you. We’re just wrapping up our tour,” said Jazmin.
“Already?” I said. I was surprised to find that I was disappointed.
Jazmin drew herself up. “Haven’t I already given you enough of my time?”
“Jazmin, he’s excited. Can you blame him?” asked Geena in exasperation, shielding me from Jazmin’s irritation. “Oh! Can we make a quick detour? I want to show him the Mistress Lounge you showed me, earlier, when we were coming down!”
“That’s only for us,” said Jazmin.
“As a special treat? Please? Just a quick peek. We don’t even have to go in.”
Jazmin frowned but Geena turned on her best puppy-dog-eye look, and I knew from experience no one, not even Jazmin could resist it.
“Fine,” she relented.
“Have fun filming,” said Geena to Lorelei.
“Break a leg!” I said.
“No legs right now, but thanks!” said Lorelei, laughing and waving her tail good-bye to me.
Jazmin led us out of the studio, through the twists and turns of the hallway, and paused in front of a bigger, more ornate door than the rest. It was painted red instead of dark brown, and the plaque on it was black metal.
MISTRESS LOUNGE III
“Five seconds,” she warned me with a frown, pulling it open.
I poked my head in.
The lounge was exactly that: a lounge. It was a warm room with a roaring fireplace, thick armchairs, cabinets full of crystal decanters, shelves full of books… It looked like a wonderful place to sit and read, and I could understand why Geena had wanted me to see it. There was only one woman there, an older lady dressed in a business-like pantsuit. She was reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette in a long cigarette holder, an ashtray on the table beside her. Her stockinged feet were propped up on a prostate man, kneeling in front of her chair, wearing a shiny black latex suit that completely covered him.
Jazmin closed the door in my face, inches from my nose. “Five seconds are up.”
“Thank you,” I said awkwardly.
Jazmin didn’t reply to that; she shook back her hair and began walking again. By then I was sure we’d walked a mile or more! I couldn’t believe how big The Basement was.
We crossed an intersection. “That way is one of the practice facilities; that will be a good place for you to continue to learn your wrist motions,” said Jazmin to Geena, pointing down one hall. “Mistress Ada is second to none at four point florentine; this is a very beautiful technique I believe you could master quickly. You are a very fast learner,” said Jazmin. “That also leads to The Hole… where we keep naughty stock.” She frowned at me, a warning look, and I looked down at my feet. Geena reached out with one of her bare feet to tap my toes through my sneakers, a little sign of reassurance that I was doing okay.
“You could rent one of the stock for your practice,” continued Jazmin.
“I would just bring Mike,” said Geena with a shrug.
“Perhaps next time you visit we can explore this hallway more,” said Jazmin.
I liked the idea of seeing the practice room and of playing with Geena, but I definitely didn’t want to see The Hole. Fortunately Jazmin didn’t take us there; instead, she brought us to a door labeled MERCURY ROOM.
Inside was a vast space, like a ballroom. Around the edges were cameras and lights, like there had been in Lorelei’s room; in the middle was a large ring, filled with cones, poles, tunnels, teeter-totters, and steps, roped off, and along the rope were chairs for an audience. But there were only two people there. One was a woman, dressed in a jaunty pair of jodhpurs, high leather boots, and a hunting jacket over a white, lacey bra. The other was a man on all fours, a leather mask covering his face and a wiggly tail sticking out from his ass. The woman was holding a leash and the man was scrambling around the cones, panting noisily.
“Ta-da! For next weekend’s show,” said Jazmin proudly.
Geena clapped her hands and reached over to hug Jazmin’s waist with excitement. “Oh, it’s amazing! Can I come? Please? It sounds incredible!”
Jazmin gave one of her small, rare smiles at Geena’s excitement.
The woman with the human puppy stopped, jerking the leash; the pup made a small yip of surprise and sat down abruptly.
“Practicing?” asked Jazmin.
The pup wiggled, his tail plug flopping around wildly with his excitement.
“Always,” said his handler, drawing an arm across her forehead.
“This is Geena, my protégé. Geena, meet Maxine and Max. They came in second last year at our international pup show.”
“If we don’t get Best in Show this year, I swear–” began Maxine
Max whimpered sympathetically and nuzzled her leg.
Jazmin turned. “The Basement is one of few facilities with the equipment, space, and resources to host international events. We have many. Conferences, contests, shows… all of it is managed under Madame Xara, who ensures the highest quality for any event we host. She takes great pride in offering the premiere gatherings for people around the world to congregate and socialize.”
“Socialize? Psh! I’m here to win,” said Maxine. She gave Max’s leash a tug. “Come on, Max. Again!”
“The Mercury Room is our second-largest space for big events, excluding the Grand Hall,” said Jazmin. “Come. You may exit through there.”
I wasn’t sure I was ready to go yet, especially since I was still stiff and my cock was aching, but Jazmin was already leaving to take us there.
“Isn’t there a library?” I asked as I followed.
“Oh, yes. Geena’s favorite place,” said Jazmin, that fond tone creeping into her voice again. She slowed down a little to place a hand in the middle of Geena’s back; the two leaned in to each other, gently nuzzling affectionately. As crazy as The Basement was, I could see its magic. How it brought people together, let them explore and lose themselves to a kind of creative freedom and expression that others might not understand. How it forged discipline and structure together with pleasure, lust, and hedonism.
Jazmin was right: compared to some sorority party, this was way, way more exciting.
We made a turn and suddenly the hallway opened up into a mezzanine. I gasped audibly and ran to the railing to see, forgetting for a moment to act demure around Jazmin.
The Grand Hall had earned its name. We were on the top floor; the Grand Hall was a double-story room, and it was clearly the center hub of The Basement. Around the second story (or, the first floor of the basement), there was the mezzanine where we stood, a beautiful, thick wooden railing going around and looking down over the lower level. Several hallways from both stories fed into this room and it was like looking down into Grand Central Station! Above us, a square of red-lit light glimmered, and hanging from each corner was a sturdy, dangling ring. Tied to one was a wrapped man, one leg down and the other up, his erection pointing fiercely up thanks to the cock ring he was wearing. Below him, a woman stood with a camera, snapping shots as she walked around, pausing frequently to consider other angles. On the lower level were little couches and chairs, like in a hotel lobby; one wall had a huge, curved staircase, with beautiful wooden banisters carved with intricate designs. At the top was a clock. It looked oddly familiar.
“Look familiar?” asked Jazmin.
“Why… it’s modeled after the Grand Staircase of the Titanic!” exclaimed Geena.
“…more history,” I observed.
“Look there,” said Jazmin, pointing to the opposite wall. There was a large oil painting there: a portrait of a proud-looking, gray haired woman in a blue ballgown.
“Madame Xara,” I said immediately.
Jazmin nodded. “Yes. That is her. The great matriarch of the Queen Building. The Queen herself.”
“What’s on the lower level?” I asked. I suddenly didn’t want the tour to end, ever; I wanted to open every room and find out what else there was to see. I felt like I could explore this place endlessly.
Jazmin laughed. “Such a curious boy. One who, I think, should be satisfied for now.”
“The Basement has been here since ‘86, Mike. It’ll still be here later,” Geena consoled me. “Besides, speaking of satisfaction… you can’t possibly keep walking around with that thing. You’ll poke someone’s eye out!” She reached down and squeezed my cock; it jumped in her hand.
I reddened. “Yes… miss,” I said.
“Fast learner. Like you. A good pairing,” said Jazmin, with a single nod of approval.
Finally.
Geena grinned. “Thank you, Mistress Jazmin.” The two of them embraced, and then Geena took me to the staircase. There was an elevator bank beside it; Geena pressed the button for me. “Wait for me in the Bookshoppe. I’ll come up after I go get my clothes, and say good-bye to Jazmin.”
“Okay,” I said, reluctantly. I took the lift up; it opened into a small back room I’d never been in before. The room opened up into a small, discrete nook of the Bookshoppe, hidden by a smoky-colored curtain. After I stepped out and turned back, I found the door was locked and there was a sign there that said, “Basement: For Pre-Approved Guests Only.”
I waited in the Bookshoppe, thinking about Jazmin and Geena, mostly Geena, trying not to fiddle too much with my pants. I zipped them back up but still felt very exposed, and the wait was agony. I felt like it was taking forever, and I kept imagining what “saying goodbye” between Jazmin and Geena looked like.
But finally Geena emerged, dressed and looking fresh, glowing radiantly with excitement. She pounced on me, burying my face into her breasts, and I sank into her embrace with a sigh of relief.
“Come on. Let’s go back to my place. I think you need some downtime to think it all over,” said Geena. “It’s a lot to take in, huh? But you seemed to enjoy yourself. Do you think you want to go back?”
“Definitely!” I agreed as we left the Bookshoppe and began heading back toward her apartment. “I can’t wait to go back. There’s so much to see and do…”
“I’m so glad to hear that, Mike. Because I need to return something to Marika.” Geena pulled the collar of her shirt to the side to show me her shoulder; a line of red rope was there. She was still wearing the harness over her breasts, under her shirt!
My cock throbbed.
“But this weekend, let’s just stick around my apartment. We haven’t even gotten through all of my toy bag yet.”
My heartbeat quickened at what she was offering. “I love your toys.”
“I love you.” She bopped me on the nose with one finger.
“I love you, too. And… I think I might love The Basement. Gosh, Geena, it’s like it was made for you. It’s got a bunch of stuff you use all the time!” I said. “I swear, some of the stuff Jazmin had, it looked a lot like the stuff you’ve got. Isn’t that weird.”
“Oh, Mike…” laughed Geena. “Where do you think I got all the toys from in the first place?”
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