One Night in a Dungeon Page 8

  I lie back on the cushions and Rocco reclines between my legs.

  “Hold on,” I say as I pull at the corset drawstrings. Rocco’s eyes glisten as my tits are revealed. “Come on, now. You know you want to.”

  Rocco smiles as he turns his body to place his head on my chest. He reaches around and wraps his arm around my hip.

  “Comfortable?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says, “very.”

  “Good.” I run my hands over his shoulders and back. He feels relaxed enough, and my best course is to lead him a little, then see where he takes himself. “Now, I’m not going to push. You tell me whatever you want to tell me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  And with that, he lapses into silence. I run my hand up and down his back. He doesn’t tense up, but he also doesn’t say anything. I run my fingers through his hair, and still he says nothing. I lose track of time as my butt begins to go numb.

  “What were you and Kas talking about?” Rocco finally asks.

  “Nothing, really.” I take in a long breath. His words are not about the topic I was expecting or wanting to discuss.

  “You were yelling at her.”

  “Yeah, well—her taste in men sucks.” I grit my teeth, still annoyed with her smiling, sunny disposition, and knowing I’m being shitty about it at the same time. I take a deep breath, deciding Rocco deserves a better answer. “Though I can talk about what happened to me, I’m usually a bit on edge after I tell someone about it for the first time. Having a girl Cree is fucking come up to me the way she did...I just didn’t like it.”

  “But Cree never did anything to you.”

  “No, he didn’t, but men with similar fantasies did.”

  “Cree wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Rocco says. “I know he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t...do anything like that.”

  “He does though, doesn’t he? He just finds a chick who gets off on it, too.”

  “That makes it different.”

  “I know it does.” I let out a long sigh. “I also know Cree well enough to know he’s not like my father at all. He’s not the same as the other men who raped me—I know that. That doesn’t mean I have to like what he’s into.”

  “You still asked for his help though, right? To, um...to meet with me?”

  “I did. He’s the only person I ever saw you with, so it didn’t leave me a lot of choice. If you hung out with Ivan or Lynn, I would have talked to them, but you were always with Cree. Even if he wasn’t your usual rigger, Cree is the master rope guy around here. All the riggers go to him for instruction. I would have had to ask him for help learning rope so I could tie you. The only thing that might have changed is asking someone else to negotiate meeting with you.”

  “You learned to tie from Cree?” Rocco asks.

  “Mostly, yes. I also did a lot of online instruction and learned some basics from a few other riggers around here. I interviewed some rope bottoms, too. I wanted to find out what they were feeling and what I should look for when tying someone for the first time.”

  “That was a lot of effort, wasn’t it?”

  “You’re worth it.”

  Rocco scoffs, and I grab his chin.

  “You are worth it,” I say again, staring into his eyes. “I want to be with you, and I’ll do just about anything to get what I want, including playing nice with Cree. Hopefully, I won’t have to do that anymore.”

  Rocco nods, and I release him. He presses his lips together. Considering what I just said, I realize what he must be thinking.

  “But Cree is still your friend.”

  “Yeah,” he whispers.

  “And if we’re in a relationship, your friends are a part of that.”

  “Are they?”

  I pause as another realization hits me. This isn’t just a new relationship; it’s Rocco’s first relationship. He has never dealt with all the intricacies of being a couple, including how outside friends and relatives fit into it all. He’s going in completely blind, which means I have to be extraordinarily patient and accepting.

  That’s going to include befriending Cree and Kas, not just playing nice. I’m going to have to put some major effort into it. I cringe at the thought, but when I look at Rocco’s face, I remember that it’s all worth it. I’m going to have to make it clear that I won’t cause a problem with his friends.

  “Sure they are.” I force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it is. “If I’m seeing you, I’ll be seeing him, too.” I try to picture it all in my head, and I don’t like what I see. Rocco probably thinks it will be even worse. If I’m going to make this work, I’m going to have to cut Cree some slack and try to get along.

  That’s not going to be easy.

  “I wouldn’t want you and Cree to fight all the time.”

  “I’m not going to fight with him.”

  “Or with Kas. He really likes her.”

  “I’m sure he does.” I sound bitchy, so I try to change my tone. “She seems like a good fit for him. And yeah, I’m going to have to figure out how to get along with them both. I’m glad you’re sticking up for your friend.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course. If you’ll stick up for him, even to me, then you’ll certainly stick up for me if I ever need it. It also means I can trust you to tell me if you don’t like something I’m doing. I’m sure that’s not easy for you, and I appreciate it.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course, I do.” I sit up a bit, grip his chin, and press my lips against his. “Thank you for trusting me enough to say all of that. In return, I’m going to do my absolute best to be friends with both Cree and Kas. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable around us when we’re all together.” I stroke the side of his face. “You’re important to me, Roc. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. That’s what a Domme does—takes care of her sub.”

  Rocco smiles, and his dark eyes light up for a moment. He leans forward, initiating another kiss, albeit tentatively. I respond, gripping the back of his head and deepening the kiss. He moans into my mouth.

  I move back a little, staring into his eyes. His pupils are dilated, and his breathing is a little faster. I lean forward again, trailing kisses up the side of his neck until I hear a quiet whimper. I move back to his mouth, kissing him deeply.

  “You want to fuck again?” I ask.

  “Oh! Uh...” Rocco fidgets around, unable to look me in the eye anymore, and I laugh.

  “Too blunt?”

  “No, I, uh...I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Well, do you want to?” I tilt my head to the side, watching his reaction.

  “Yes.” He blushes, then begins to fidget again. “I do, but maybe...maybe I should tell you first. I mean, tell you about me.”

  “Do you think you’re ready?” I’d planned to follow his lead to some extent, but now I’m wondering if he’s forcing himself to move too fast, and I don’t want to upset him again. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to push you anymore. We can just sit here and cuddle if you want. We can talk about something else. We can just fuck the night away if that’s your preference. I don’t want you to talk to me about your past until you’re ready.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he says, “but I think I’m as ready now as I’ll ever be. I figured out how to start, anyway.”

  “It’s up to you.” I gnaw at my lip, realizing I’m forcing him to make a choice when I told him I was going to do that for him. This one though...he’s got to make it on his own. I can only encourage him.

  Rocco puts his head back on my tits, and I start the waiting game again. It doesn’t take as long, but when he does speak, my heart stops.

  “I was seven years old the first time I saw daylight.”

  Chapter 9—Rocco

  There. I did it. I got the first sentence out.

  I also felt Casey’s body tense when I said the words, and I have no idea what she’s thinking. I can’t bring myself to look her in the eye,
so I decide to ask a question.

  “Did you know there are people who live in old subway tunnels?”

  “What?”

  “Subway tunnels. Old ones that have never been used for trains. On the west side of the city, there are a bunch of them. They were supposed to be an offshoot of the main transit system that goes around downtown. It was built in the sixties, but the funding got cut, and it was never completed. People live there. Or at least, people used to. Not sure if they still do or not.”

  “Oh. Um...okay. I guess that isn’t much different than homeless people living under a bridge or in tent cities.”

  “More like the tent cities but underground. I mean, not big cities or good cities but a lot of people. A lot of people living under the streets on the far side of town near the power plant and sewage treatment plant. You could smell the sewage all the time, so eventually, you just get used to the smell and don’t even notice it. A documentary was made about it.”

  “About our city?”

  “No, not here. I think it was about people in New York back in the seventies maybe. A bunch of people lived below the streets, and no one knew they were there. The entrance was sealed off, but you could get there through the old steam tunnels underneath the power plant. There isn’t any light down there. It took a long time to get out, and the steam tunnels smelled even worse.”

  “Are you saying you lived in one of those places?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was that before or after the group home?”

  “Before.”

  “You mean, that’s where you lived with your parents?”

  “Yeah.”

  Casey flexes her arms around me, and I feel her lips press against the top of my head.

  “Can you tell me what it was like?” she asks quietly.

  “So, um...it’s hard to describe.” I rub my cheek against her breasts and sigh. “I was young, so my memories of that place aren’t very clear. It was always dark. We had candles and some flashlights, but batteries were hard to come by. People made fires in barrel drums for heat, but I wasn’t allowed to go out of our house.”

  “Your house?”

  “It was made from wooden pallets, the kind people use to move goods from trucks to warehouses. The pallets were stood up like walls, and there were some carpet scraps on the floor. We had some furniture. I remember the folding chairs, a wooden bookcase, and a table. My dad attached a piece of wood to one of the pallets, near the top, and my mom used it as a shelf for stuff.”

  “Where did you sleep?”

  “Next to the bookcase was a sheet attached to more pallets and big pieces of paneling. The sheet hung like a curtain, and behind it we had a pile of blankets and old clothes. I spent most of my time there. If I sat on the other side, I could see more people in the tunnel through the slats in the pallets, but my mom didn’t want anyone to see me. A few people knew I was there, but my mom always reminded them not to talk about me. I think she was afraid someone would take me away if they knew I was there. When she and Dad would leave for a while, I had to stay behind the curtain and be quiet. I wasn’t allowed to have a light on, and there were always rats.”

  I shudder.

  “Damn,” Casey says. “That’s...awful.”

  “They scared me, but my dad just laughed about them. Told me to catch them, and he’d cook them up, but I didn’t want them near me.”

  “Did you...did you actually...?”

  “Eat them? I guess so. I don’t really remember, but we never had much food. We had a bit more when my dad was around, but he disappeared before my mom did. Just went out one day and didn’t come back. My mom took care of me by herself after that, but she wasn’t much of a...well, a caregiver, I guess. She’d give me some food if she had it, but she never did any normal mom stuff. She didn’t read to me or play with me. She wanted me to be quiet all the time. She used a lot of drugs, and then she’d fall asleep. When she woke up, she’d leave to get more, and I was supposed to stay in the back, away from everyone else. Usually she wasn’t gone too long. She always managed to find more drugs, and sometimes she’d bring back something to eat. Usually Mamaw shared her food with me.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  “Not really. She just told us to call her that. She was a kind lady, and I thought she was a hundred years old, but now I have to assume she wasn’t more than late in her fifties. Homeless people don’t live that long, you know. She was one of the few people who knew I was there, and she’d come talk to me when my mom wasn’t around. She said she was kicked out of her apartment after her husband and son died. They were in a fire or something. I think she’d lived down there the longest. She was nice, though. I remember that. She’d always share what she had with everyone else, especially me. I was the only kid down there except for Roger. He was older though—a teenager. He didn’t have any parents, so Mamaw helped him, too.

  “One day, my mom left soon after I woke up, saying she’d be back soon. I crawled in the back and waited, but it seemed like she was gone a long time. Mamaw came and talked to me while she got high, but then she left, too. I fell asleep, but when I woke up, Mom still wasn’t back. I was hungry, but I was too scared to leave my spot. I got in a lot of trouble if I wandered out. My dad would hit me—hard. Even though he wasn’t around by then, I never knew if he was going to come back or not, so I stayed put. Eventually, Mamaw came back again. She gave me part of a sandwich and asked how long my mom had been gone, but I didn’t know.”

  “But she was using drugs, too?

  “Seemed like everyone there had glass pipes. When I was outside the curtain, I could see them all lighting pipes near the burning barrel. As soon as someone got back from outside, they’d start smoking them. My parents did, too. They smoked them all the time. I didn’t know what crack cocaine was then, but I do now.”

  “Is that what happened to them? Did they overdose?”

  “Don’t know. I guess I kinda assume they did. Without any way of identifying who they were, they might have just ended up as John and Jane Does in some morgue. All I know for sure is that I never saw either of them again.”

  “What happened when your mother didn’t return?”

  “Mamaw kept coming back and giving me a bit of food or water. She said she’d gone looking but didn’t find my mother anywhere. I don’t know for sure, but I think she might have been the one to tell the police that people were down there. At least, they showed up soon after, and Mamaw wasn’t around when they did.”

  “The police raided the tunnels?”

  “Yeah. People were yelling and screaming about being kicked out of their homes. The police told them they couldn’t stay there and people were there to help. I was hiding and just hoping no one would find me. I didn’t know what the police were or why they were throwing everyone out. When they did find me, I screamed and cried. They tried to catch me, but I kept squirming away from them. I couldn’t really understand a lot of what they were saying—they used words I’d never heard before. Eventually, someone threw one of the blankets over me and pulled me out. It was a lady in a uniform, but not the same one as the police officers. I think she might have been a paramedic or something like that. She held me on her lap until I calmed down a little. She’s the one who took me outside.”

  I let out a long, shuddering breath.

  “You’re doing great, Roc.” Casey runs her hand over my head. “You really are.”

  “Thanks.” I let out another breath and keep going. “It was bright and sunny outside. A perfect summer day, I guess, but I’d never seen such bright light. The heat from the sun...well, it scared me. I started screaming again, and that’s all I remember. I think they must have sedated me at that point. I woke up in a hospital.”

  “That probably scared you even more.”

  “It did. I didn’t know where I was, and I had no concept of a hospital or doctors. There was a needle sticking out of my arm. That scared me the most. I saw someone in the tunnel like that once—just slumped over wit
h a needle in his arm. My dad helped another man drag him away. I screamed, yanked it out, and then I was bleeding. People came in, shouting at me. I was sedated again. Someone came in and opened the blinds on the window, and I thought my eyes were going to burn out of my head, so I screamed, ripped out the IV, and hid.

  “Some people in uniforms came in while I was under a cart full of equipment. They kept asking me to tell them my name and the names of my parents, but all I knew was that they called me Rock. My parents were ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ as far as I knew, but people kept asking me for their names. They came in day after day, asking me to try to remember, but I don’t think it was a matter of not remembering—I don’t think I ever heard them use actual names. We didn’t exactly have conversations around a dinner table. So, I would freak out again. I’d grab the blankets off the hospital bed and cover myself up in the corner. They hauled me out and sedated me again. Every time I woke up, I flipped, and the whole thing started all over again.”

  “Wow. Just...wow. I don’t know what else to say. You had to have been terrified. You were seven years old?”

  “About that, I guess. No one knew for sure, but that’s what they decided.”

  “Wait...so you don’t even know how old you are? What’s your birthdate?”

  “May first,” I reply. “That’s the birthday they gave me once doctors decided I must have been born in the spring. I don’t really know. They had to guess since I was so small.”

  “Small?” Casey snickers. “What are you—about six-two?”

  “Yeah, something like that. When they found me, I was undernourished and small though. I went a little nuts when I found out what real food was. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I ate a lot. Grew fast.”

  “You had a lot to make up for.”

  “I guess I did.”

  “How long were you in the hospital?”

  “I don’t know. A long time, I suppose. First they talked about getting me strong and healthy. Different people kept coming in to poke at me. They checked me all over—even my teeth. That’s how they decided how old I was, I guess. Mostly, they tried to get me to talk, but I...I just didn’t know how.