Sundown Sinners

Chapter Two: The Room at the Top of the Stairs

Chapter Two: The Room at the Top of the Stairs

I stared down at the thin stack of bills clutched in my hand. Tenthousanddollars. It was the sort of payday that could change the trajectory of my entire life, and yet for him it seemed like petty pocket change. This was yet another reason to loathe Bertie, if the others weren't enough.

"So, now that you've counted it, can we get a move on?" Bertie asked. His tone didn't betray any impatience, but this was clearly the part of my involuntary visit that he was looking forward to the most. Then again, why wouldn't it be? Bertie had never been an attractive man, though his height made his considerable weight look less stocky on him than in his youth. But, with money like this, you'd think he'd be experienced in prostitution.

"Sure." I mumbled, stuffing the cash into my back pocket. Bertie turned and headed down the hallway, but when I tried to take a step, I found that I couldn't move. My legs weren't shaking or anything like that. Instead, I seemed to just be stuck in place, as if someone had glued my shoes to the floor. A sick, bubbling feeling erupted in my stomach like magma.

"Are you coming?" Bertie called, looking over his shoulder at me. He seemed to smirk to himself. "You're not getting cold feet now, are you? You've done way kinkier shit on camera than a simple hookup."

I glared up at him, sticking my chin out indignantly. "You're the one whopaidfor those videos."

"Yeah." Bertie laughed. "And I'm paying for this too. So, hurry the fuck up." Without another word, he turned back to the hallway and disappeared around the corner. I clenched my jaw and forced my legs to react, numbly following him down the corridor. Bertie passed by the gallery wall of benign photographs and took a sharp left at the front door. His steps echoed heavily through the room as he climbed the wooden stairs.

I paused briefly and stared at the heavy wooden door. I had the money in my back pocket, and it suddenly seemed to weigh much more than it should. I could probably make it if I ran right now. Bertie had never been fast, I had outpaced him in practically every race since elementary school. Physically, there was nothing stopping me from leaving and going back home, locking the door behind me. Even if he did come after me, I could call the police and just wait him out.

But, no... that wouldn't work. What Bertie had on me was much more powerful than a brass latch on a heavy door. His leverage, his pictures and videos of my naked body doing whatever he wanted, those were my shackles. If I wanted to make sure that my parents never found out, I would have to see this thing through to the end.

I turned and grabbed the banister, my feet automatically climbing the first step. Did it really matter if my parents knew how I had made my money these last few months? Sure, my mom would be devastated and my father would be disgusted, but that didn't change much from how they already felt when I came back home with nothing but college debt and disappointment. It's not like I had any friends or peers who would shun me if they found out I was a self-employed porn star.

I hesitated once again. With this money, I could leave town and find somewhere where no one knew, or even cared about, my name. I could disappear. It wasn't like I would be missing much. After all, holidays had never been something my parents put much stock in. I loved my mom, but hearing this news would break her. And anyway, she would be better off if I ran away. But, how would the people in town treat her if they knew she had raised a deviant?

I glanced upward and saw Bertie at the top step, staring down at me with hungry, predatory eyes. A shiver ran up my spine involuntarily. No. If I ran away, there was no doubt in my mind that Bertie would find me. No matter what, I would have to do what he said, or my life would be over. Even a baby chick knows to accept its fate when there's a mountain lion in the coop.

I climbed the final steps and allowed him to wrap a large arm around my shoulders. His skin was cold and clammy, even through the thin material of my t-shirt. His fingers curled around the curve of my shoulder, tightening like the teeth of a bear trap. I was caught, hook, line, and sinker.

We paused outside of a plain, white door with a golden handle. This had to be his bedroom, I realized. I glanced around the top landing and found more of the same neutral decoration. Was this just his style, or did he keep his true self hidden away in his room? I felt myself tense as Bertie placed his hand on the doorknob. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, warm breath tickling my earlobe.

"Don't be so nervous, Eli. It's just a room." His voice had a sinister quality to it, as if he was a supervillain showing the kidnapped sidekick his evil lair. Then again, maybe that's exactly what was happening.

"I'm not nervous." I hissed, grabbing the doorknob myself. I twisted, and the door popped open with a subtle click. I walked forward into the dark bedroom, doing my best to disentangle Bertie's arms from around me. It was only when the door snapped closed behind me that I even bothered to realize that this room was much, much different than the others. I gasped, taking a startled step back. I felt Bertie's hands wrap around my arms like talons in the flesh of a mouse.

"Do you like it?" Bertie's voice whispered sardonically.

The room behind the white door was not a bedroom. The walls were still a sad sort of beige, but that was where the resemblance to the rest of the house stopped. Instead of gallery walls or plain, wooden furniture, the decoration of the room was moreadult.There were no posters of naked women, breasts overflowing from bikinis and torn out of magazines. Instead, the walls held racks and shelves of every variety, stocked to the brim with feather dusters, whips, ropes, chains, and more.

Paddles and riding crops hung from bars on either side of the room, and right in the center sat a strange bench contraption with leather pads and lockable restraints. The lights above flooded the room with a crimson, eerie glow. The room seemed a lot larger than I would have first expected, filled to the brim with beds, couches, and cages of varying shapes and sizes.

"What thefuck?" I whispered in horror, taking another step back. My body bumped against something hard, heaving, and unyielding. Bertie's fingers gripped my flesh tighter, holding me in place.

"It took a long time to build up the collection." Bertie admitted, a hint of pride staining his voice. "Lots of this stuff had to be custom ordered. The stocks, though, are an actual antique from a museum that was defunded over in Europe." Bertie gestured to a wooden stockade with a heavy, modern padlock placed in its iron latch. "They come directly from some lord's prison. The guy selling them to me said that they would place whores who charged too much in them and leave them naked in the center of town, free to use by every man who passed by."

I swallowed hard, my eyes locked onto the wooden contraption. My heart thudded heavily in my chest, and my face felt warm. I felt something twitch in my pants, and a wave of confusion overwhelmed me all at once. I was scared. Terrified, even. My old childhood friend had a massive sex dungeon and was holding me in place, blackmailing me into fucking him for his own amusement. I should've resented the entire situation. I should've been limp as a Taco Bell burrito. Andyet...

"Did you have any preference on what you wanted to try first?" Bertie's hands spun me around to face him. His face was strangely childlike, his eyes dancing as a giant grin spread across his face. "I have a few suggestions, but I know you don't really get to be somewhere like this every day. I'm sure you have things you want to try out."

I shook my head quickly. "No, of course I don't have a preference, you prick. I just want to get this shit over with." The drumbeat of my heart had extended to my ears, throbbing with sound. I could hardly think right, I felt like my head was swimming. What the fuck was going on? There was no way this was really exciting me. He must have put something in the air, some kind of aphrodisiac. Goat weed, maybe? Could you vaporize Viagra?

Bertie shrugged, his grin not faltering for a second. "Very well. We'll do it my way." He let go of me and gestured to a bathroom right beside the exit. "Take off your clothes and prep yourself. I've got all kinds of lube and dilators in there if you need them. Or, I could come in and help you?" His voice held a hopeful note. I immediately shook my head.

"No thanks, I've got it." I replied curtly. I entered the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me, moving to latch it closed. I found no lock. There wasn't even a key-hole. My jaw clenched again and I turned around, facing the wide mirror. The bathroom was lit by a singular plastic rose plugged into the wall socket by the sink. It cast a surprisingly bright pink glow around the small room. I gave up very quickly in my search for a proper lightswitch, finding nothing along the walls except for a rack of freshly laundered towels.

In the dim haze, I glanced at my reflection and almost jumped out of my skin. I didn't seem to look like myself. The person staring back at me instead was a stranger, a lusty-eyed porn star who had made countless videos of his body and posted them for the world to see. My hair was wild and dark, matching the terrifying intensity of my eyes. My gaze traveled downward, sliding from my loose shirt to my tight jeans, straining against the hardness of my cock. I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed. I felt, maybe just a little bit, excited.

Tearing my focus from the mirror, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. This could just be like another one of my videos. All I needed to do was get ready, sit in front of the camera, and fuck myself on Bertie's dick until he was satisfied. Even if he owned a sex dungeon, everything looked way too new and clean. He was probably inexperienced, some kind of one-pump chump. If I made him cum quickly, I could probably be home in less than an hour.

With that resolve echoing through my mind, I stripped off my shirt and jeans, throwing them into a messy pile on the floor. My jockstrap came off next, my dick straining hard against the mesh fabric. Once gone, my dick pointed proudly in the air, aching to be touched. Maybe I could get something out of this too. I doubted that Bertie's micropenis would be enough to satisfy me, but surely he'd want me to jerk off a little before he cums. I could kill two birds with one stone, then I could sanitize myself and burn these clothes and forget everything ever happened.

In a cabinet by the shower was everything Bertie had mentioned I might need. With a hum of interest, I grabbed a new bottle of silicone lube and began to open dozens of foam boxes, each with different kinds of dilators, butt plugs, and dildos. Bertie seemed to have every shape and size made out of every material a sex addict could dream of, from glass, to silicone, to stainless steel. I ended up choosing a set of small, smaller, and smallest dilators made of glass. Each had a flared base, and was certainly more than large enough to prepare me for Bertie.

I entered the black tile shower and turned the faucet, cringing as the cold water hit my feet. In less than a second, the water was boiling hot, causing me to dance from foot to foot as I turned the dial to a suitable temperature. These new constructions were said to come with loads of problems. Hot water, apparently, was not one of them.

I leaned into the fresh spray gingerly, allowing the water to glide down my back, washing away the sin that I was about to commit. After this one, tiny task, it would all be over. I could get an apartment and try to look for another job. Or, maybe I could defer my student loans and go back to school. Maybe I would become a teacher after all and have a respectable career that would make my mom happy.

I pushed the thoughts of my mother aside. In this hellish place, she was the last thing I needed to bring to mind. Instead, I thought of a man with large, rough hands. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift into the land of fantasy as my body relaxed in the warm embrace of the shower. I could almost feel his hands on my body, rough and calloused and warm. This mystery man slowly dragged his nails down my spine, causing me to shudder in pleasure. Slowly, teasingly, he grabbed my ass and gave it a squeeze, as if saying that it belonged to him.

I bit my lip and lubed up my finger, rimming around my hole temptingly. My dick throbbed again, and I grinned to myself as I pushed my finger inside of my tight hole. The muscles of my ass seemed to clench around the digit, swallowing it up hungrily. With a practiced effort, I coated my insides with lube, imagining the big dick of the mystery man plunging inside of me. I opened my eyes and grabbed the smallest glass dilator.

Making sure to stand up straight and keeping my spine neutral, I gradually inserted the cool, smooth toy into my rectum. I moaned as it slid in with ease. In the end, playing with toys every night had loosened me up more than I would've thought possible. I probably hadn't even needed to prep for Bertie, but he didn't need to know that.

I felt the base of the dilator bump against my entrance. Leisurely, I inched the dilator out until it was almost free, then slammed it back inside. I almost cried out, clutching at the tiled wall with my free hand. I began to pump the dilator inside of my ass mercilessly, imagining the stranger ramming me full of his giant cock. The dilator was too small. I pulled it from inside of me and placed it back in the box. Skipping the mid-size, I grabbed the largest of the three and placed it on the shower floor. I squatted above the dilator, my eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Slowly, I lowered my hips down, allowing myself to sink onto the dilator in one fluid motion.

I met no resistance as I lowered myself further and further, stopping only when I came into contact with the shower floor. I planted my hands to either side of my spread legs and bit my lip. I was going to fuck myself like how I wished Bertie would fuck me. I lifted my hips, then slammed them back down. Hard. I gasped, throwing my head back as I did it again, and again, and again.

My balls felt so full, I needed a release. I lifted a hand and grabbed my dick, intending to jerk myself off to completion. Instead, I heard the bathroom door open, causing me to freeze like a slutty, shameless statue.

"Don't cum without me." Bertie's voice held a note of humor, but there was something darker hiding just behind his wicked smile.

"Don't just walk in here without saying anything!" I panted, covering my dick with my hands. My ass clenched around the dilator like a dog with a prized bone, unwilling to let it go.

"You forget," Bertie's voice echoed through the bathroom as he reached for the faucet, turning it off. "I own you right now. I can follow you into the bathroom all I want. I can do whatever the fuck I want with you."

With the disappearance of the water, I felt suddenly freezing. My body began to shake as droplets fell from my hair and plinked against the black tiles.

"You don't own me." I shivered, glaring up at Bertie.

"Tell that to the money in your jeans pocket." He replied stiffly. His hand came out and rested at eye level. "Come on, let's get to the real fun. I promise it will be much more entertaining than your vanilla little fantasies."

I narrowed my eyes and brushed his hand aside. I rose from the ground and gently pulled the dilator from my ass, placing it back in its box. "Let me clean these." I insisted, feeling no small amount of embarrassment.

"I'll do it later." Bertie's tone did not invite argument. When did he suddenly become so cold? I could tell something was changing in his demeanor, and I didn't like it. Bertie turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom, stopping to stand just outside the door. I grabbed one of the towels and wiped myself down, keeping my eyes on his hulking figure. As if a switch had flipped in my mind when he entered the bathroom, I was suddenly nervous again.

I took my time drying off, before I took deliberately slow steps over to where he was, my hands still hiding my crotch from view. I had softened slightly, but not enough to say that I was flaccid.

"So," I hesitated, looking around the intimidating room. "How do you want to get started? Did you want to, like," I gestured awkwardly with shoulders, "Make out, or something?"

Bertie rolled his eyes, but there was no sarcastic grin to be seen. In just moments, he had completely changed. It was a bit chilling. The fat kid I grew up with couldn't tell a lie unless he believed it himself, and asking him to hide his emotions was unheard of and practically insulting.

"There's no need to play the awkward teenager at his hookup." Bertie told me. "Do what I tell you and this will go smoothly for both of us." He walked over to the strange contraption in the center of the room and opened one of the leather restraints. "This is basically referred to as a BDSM bench. Since you've done some rope-play and stuff in your videos, I assume you understand what its purpose is?"

I swallowed hard and approached the bench. There was a main black pad that supported a person's body, with a head rest at the top. On either side of the pad were two additional, smaller pads that seemed to support the arms and legs, each decorated with leather cuffs that padlocked closed.

"I'm sure I can guess." I mumbled, feeling uncomfortably warm. "Did you want me to get on it? I've never done something quite this..." I searched for the right words. "Abstract." I settled on the word with a tone of dissatisfaction.

"It isn't abstract." Bertie insisted neutrally, opening the rest of the restraints. "I would hardly call it kinky, at this point. There's people out there who want to get fucked by horses and shit like that. This is borderline vanilla." He took a step back and gestured to the bench. "Come on, I have to lock you in."

I clenched my jaw, feeling my heartrate stutter as my instincts once again questioned my fight or flight response. Against my better judgement, I removed my hands from my crotch and climbed onto the strange device, placing my wrists and ankles into the open leather cuffs. I tried not to shudder as Bertie went around and tightened each cuff, locking them all with a singular key that he kept on a tabletop a few feet away.

"We should come up with safewords." Bertie's voice held a dangerous, low quality, as if he were growling an insult rather than an offer.

"Safewords?" I asked dumbly. "What exactly do you plan to do with me?"

Bertie's finger traced up the calf of my right leg languidly. "I plan to do everything you've ever wished for, and more." He responded simply. "I've seen every video you've ever made, even the customs for the other subscribers. I know what you're really into, probably better than you do." His hand began to climb my thigh and my dick twitched. I strained against the restraints, wishing I could cover it from view.

"Everything I did in those videos was just for the cash. I didn't start doing that shit because I wanted to." I insisted, wishing he were in front of me so I could glare at him. My head wasn't bound like my extremities, but looking over my shoulder proved surprisingly hard when my arms and legs were fixed in place.

"I'm sure it started out that way." Bertie's hand cupped my ass before he spread it open with both hands. I clenched my hole shut, mostly out of embarrassment. I could feel his eyes on my most sensitive, private parts. I vaguely remembered my dad telling me that if anyone asked to see these parts to punch them in the mouth and tell them my dad was a lawyer, though that was back in grade school. Plus, I doubt my dad being a lawyer would really help me now, even if he didn't want to disown me at the first chance he got.