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The Leather Rose [ Saria and Cathouse ]

Saria

Saria

Star
Joined
Sep 16, 2013
Orien stood at the bar of the Leather Rose, an untouched drink behind him as he leaned back against it and looked over the crowd in the club. He hadn't been here in a month and he saw a few regulars and a ton of new faces he didn't recognize. None of them caught his interest though. Lately he'd been searching for something a little... darker than his usual trysts, though he wasn't sure if he wanted someone more innocent to corrupt or someone more experienced to take downstairs.

He drummed his fingers against the bottom of the bar as dark brown eyes took another look around the place, considering giving up for the night or maybe trying out another hot spot.
 
Devon walked into the club, not having even been asked for his (fake-since he was only 20) ID at the door. He looked around, not sure what to do, or think, his gray eyes showing his uncertainty and nervousness, as did his hand running through his strawberry blonde hair, which was cut short and gelled into casual spikes.

First, he decided, he would go to the bar and get a drink, something to help with the nerves; once there, he asked the tender for a rum and coke and got out his money to pay, nearly dropping the money in the process, he was that nervous.

Sipping his drink, Devon looked around the club again, beginning to doubt if he ever should have come here.. wondering if his curiosity about such delicious sounding things as being tied up or led around on a leash was worth satisfying when just sitting here at the bar made him feel so anxious...
 
Orien reached for his drink, about to knock it back and leave when his eyes strayed toward the door and caught sight of an interesting little thing walking in. He set his drink back down, watching the newcomer with growing interest. Hell, he was nervous though looked curious enough he was going to attract all the wrong kinds of attention, himself included. He smirked and pushed off the bar with a lazy elegance, moving over and stopping beside him. "That's dangerous, you know... Coming here alone and getting drunk. Someone might try to take advantage of you." Someone very much like him. He looked the other male up and down with a soft, appreciative hum.
 
"What if.. What if i want to be taken advantage of?" Devon asked, nerves showing but also flashing Orien a quick smile at the end of his words. He fidgeted a little, resting his weight on one foot and then the other; he ran a hand through his hair again, not that his hair moved much, gelled into place as it was. "I'm Devon," he added, introducing himself to the other man.
 
Orien considered that a moment, wondering just how green this kid really was. He didn't really look old enough to have gotten in, but a good ID would have let him slide. "Well that's an entirely different story," he said. "Devon. I'm Orien." He smiled and leaned against the bar, holding his hand out as if waiting to be given something. "Alcohol won't do anything but impair your judgment. Give me your hand." He waited for Devon to decline or hold it out. If he did, he grasped Devon's wrist in a light but firm grasp, guiding it to the counter and pressing it flat. His thumb rubbed a small circle against the pressure point of Devon's wrist, making his hand stationary in hopes it would ease his jitters.

"What is it you're looking for, specifically. Do you know?"
 
Devon held out his hand and let Orien take it, looking quite curious at what he was doing, though. It felt good, though, and that made it all right with him. As for what he was specifically looking for, no, he didn't really know..."I.. know I would like to be.. um.. tied up? And ..sort of not really having a choice about what happened? I like when things get kind of, rough, I guess you would say?" this was all making him blush, easily visible with Devon's pale skin.

Devon wasn't sure why he'd come, even to himself. There was just this image stuck in his head that, while it had the good effect of making him horny, also was keeping him preoccupied when he needed to think of other things, a vision of being tied up and used...
 
Orien nodded and purred softly, easily imagining Devon all tied up and at his mercy. "I see," he said, reaching his other hand out and lightly running a finger down Devon's chest. "Do you like pain?" he asked curiously, tilting his head and motioning to a table in the corner. "How about we talk?" Part of him wanted to drag Devon downstairs, tie him up, use and abuse him and put him away wet, but Devon looked like he didn't fully understand what he getting into and he wanted at least some idea of what he could handle. Nothing turned someone off of the scene faster than a bad experience.
 
Devon shrugged, at the question about whether he liked pain, and said, "I like being bitten. Or.. cut. With like, a razorblade? So I guess.. yeah.." and he was more than willing to head over to the table with his drink and talk to Orien, sliding into the booth and looking the other male over from feet to head and back again. "So, you ..come here a lot, right?" asked Devon as he sat. He smiled and looked down perhaps with nervousness as Orien joined him at the table.
 
Orien raised an eyebrow as he considered that. He didn't use blades often, preferring whips and crops himself, but they weren't foreign to him. He settled beside Devon, smirking faintly as he felt eyes traveling over him. He wore black slacks rather than the leather most people seemed to view as mandatory and a silk button up shirt in a deep blue. "Often enough to spot someone new," he replied with an easy smile.

"So, tied up and at my mercy, possibly a few cuts." He studied Devon a moment, trying to size up how much he could take. "Do you know what your thresholds and limits are? If not, I need to know you'll say something if I start pushing you too far."
 
Devon asked, "Wouldn't 'stop' be what I'd say if you pushed too far?" Dressed in a tight red tee and black jeans, Devon did not look like what the typical clubgoer was looking like, though he was happy to be here, glad that after months of contemplation he had finally got up the nerve to come here, a lucky thing to meet Orien so quickly, too. He smiled at the other man, and shrugged.."Maybe 'fucking stop right fucking now' if it was really too far?" he added as a little joke..
 
Orien shook his head, mildly amused. "If you were really under attack, perhaps, though it's best to have a word completely unrelated to 'stop' and the like. Some people use colors or animals. So long as you will remember it, and understand I won't stop unless that word is used, it can be whatever you'd like." He looked Devon over againbefore leaning over and murmuring, "Once you have a word, let me know and we can get started. Once we start, you have little say in what happens, and it won't stop until I'm done with you or you use the word. Understand?"
 
Devon nodded, eyes wide, and he swallowed, damn nerves! "I understand.. and.. I think I'll use 'blueberry' for my word," he replied with a little chuckle, licking his lips and staring at Orien.

Needless to say the thoughts running through his head with every moment were more excited and more sensual, and it showed in the fact that his jeans were rapidly becoming uncomfortably too tight.
 
Orien nodded and slid out of the booth. "Wait over by that pillar then," he said, motioning to a pillar near the stage further into the club. "I'll be back after I set it up. Five minutes." With that, he turned and headed to a stairway leading downstairs, stopping to explain his intentions to the fondly labeled Gate Keeper who stayed nearby. Then he headed downstairs to find a cage that suited their needs. The themes ranged from a barn, a school room, bedroom, punishment room, etc, etc. He found one with only a mattress and a wall of random devices ranging from whips and chains to clamps and blades. This would do nicely.

He unlocked the gate and pushed the door open, stepping inside and picking up a switchblade, giving it a few flicks to get the feel of it before heading back up. He handed the numbered key over to the Gate Keeper and slipped into the crowd, coming up behind Devon and roughly grabbing his hair with a growl. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he murmured, pressing the blade against Devon's side. "Don't yell or I'll slit your throat, got it?"
 
Devon, waiting by the pillar as instructed, froze dead still when his hair was yanked back and the blade was pressed up against his side, he could not see behind him and was unsure if this was Orien... or if this was dead serious and in earnest. "I got it," he said quietly, "Please don't hurt me." It wasn't really being hurt he was afraid of, more like, being killed. He surely hoped this was Orien who was holding the knife to him, but either way, there was only one right question, "What do you want me to do?"
 
Orien shifted and tilted Devon's head toward the stairway. "We're going to head down there, nice and docile like," he said, giving a sharp tug to Devon's hair before releasing it. He shifted the blade between them and pushed him forward, trying to stay just outside of Devon's sight as they headed downstairs. Once they reached his chosen cage, he gave a hard shove to push Devon inside, pulling the gate closed behind them with a loud clang.
 
Devon did exactly as he was told, going down the steps docilely,nervous, hell, outright scared, to be honest, but still hoping this was Orien in which case it was also very exciting. Almost losing his balance when he was shoved into the room, Devon tripped forward a few steps and sprawled across the mattress which finally tripped him up. "Orien?" he asked softly, daring to glance over and seeing who it was with considerable relief, though he was still wondering what in all HELL he had gotten himself into, and hoping he had not bit off more than he could handle....
 
"Calling for your boyfriend?" Orien asked with a smirk, flipping the blade between his fingers as he stalked closer, circling the mattress like a wolf circling its prey. "Tsk, tsk, too bad no one is going to come help you no matter how loud you scream." He licked his lips and lunged towards Devon, clamping a hand to his neck and tapping the blade against Devon's chest as he looked him over. "Let's see what you look like beneath all these clothes, shall we?" he asked almost amicably, giving a squeeze to Devon's neck. "Remove them or I cut them off." He rocked back onto his heels, dragging the blade down Devon's chest and over his groin before standing and slowly backing towards the wall to find some rope, keeping the blade pointed towards Devon.
 
Devon was entirely preferring to remove his clothes, and even doing it slowly, making a bit of a show of stripping, just so long as they did not get cut up. First he took off the tee, revealing a slender but nicely toned torso and tiny rings piercing his nipples. Next, he toed off the ankle boots, and then the jeans, showing off boxerbriefs (black) which demonstrated him standing fully at attention; he bent over to take off the socks, then last the shorts, his 6" cock was hard already. He looked back up at Orien, biting his lip, and blushing, because he had never ever done this before.. he was no virgin, but never had he done anything this kinky, not even close. "Please don't hurt me.." he repeated, eyes on the knife...
 
Orien watched appreciatively as Devon stripped, fingers closing around a thin black rope as his eyes flicked to the nipple rings. Oh, those would be fun. He flicked the rope and let his eyes travel down further, smirking as he saw how much Devon was enjoying this and they hadn't even started. Once he was tied up, he might have a change of heart, but he hoped he could make reality as good as the fantasy for him. "Hurt you?" he purred, licking his lips as he moved closer. "If you're a good boy, I might let you enjoy yourself." He dragged the tip of the knife against Devon's bare chest, slipping it through one of his nipple rings and giving a sharp tug.

"Turn around, hands behind your back," he ordered, waiting until Devon turned before putting the blade between his teeth and setting to work winding the rope around his arms from his biceps down to his wrists, keeping it snug though loose enough not to cause any severe damage in the next hour or so. "There we go..." he said with a soft purr, flicking the blade against Devon's ass. "Should I brand you with my name, or just my initials in this sweet ass?"
 
((OOC: Sorry for the lack of response yesterday, I was sick and in bed.))

Devon stood perfectly still while he was being tied up, and when Orien asked him if he wanted to be branded, he gasped, "Please don't!" while wriggling a little as if to escape. He was terribly excited at the thought, but afraid, too, afraid it might hurt more than he could handle. Aware that the wriggling is only pushing his ass more against the blade, he stops, trying to look over his shoulder at the other man.

Not being able to really see what was going on, what was going to happen next, was both thrilling and terribly frustrating, and scary; Devon was aware suddenly of his heart already pounding, and his breaths coming in short shallow gasps as he reacted to the fear and the thrill of it.
 
Orien laughed with a coldness to his voice and gripped Devon's hair again, jerking his head back as he kicked the back of his leg, forcing him to his knees on the mattress. "That wasn't an answer," he purred, shifting and poising the tip of the blade over Devon's left ass a moment before drawing a large O in the flesh. It wasn't much more than a scratch, tiny wells of blood rising up in a broken pattern, though shallow enough it would heal in a few days. He hummed softly as he admired his work, glancing at Devon and waiting a moment to see if he'd decided he was in over his head.


=====

(No worries, feel better)
 
Devon gasped and made a little strangled sound as the knife scratched through his skin, and he shuddered all over with a delicious frisson of fear and pain, not moving at all on the mattress and whimpering softly now though surely Orien could hear it, but he wasn't using his 'stop' word, either.

He tried to glance over his shoulder again, and the profile of his face showed both pain and desire as he caught sight of Orien in his peripheral vision. "Please ..." he whispered, though please what was left to the imagination....
 
Orien purred and curled his fingers tighter in Devon's hair to try and coax more whimpers out of him. "Oh, I'll please alright," he said with a soft laugh, tongueing Devon's earlobe before biting down hard enough to leave imprints of his teeth. He shoved Devon forward, planting his hand on his back to press him down as he tapped the blade against the other cheek. This time he drew a B, pressing hard enough to slice the flesh, keeping the marks precise and clean, drawing blood, but it would clot and heal, likely without leaving a scar.

He slid the blade down further, nicking the flesh along the inside of his thighs with the same shallow cuts, inching his way up until he tapped it against Devon's balls with a thoughtful hum as if considering doing the same or worse to them.
 
Devon loves the hand in his hair, and does make more of his little soft whimpering noises, and he yelps and gasps when his earlobe is bitten, and shivers all over, and he yelps again when the blade scratches deeper this time as Orien draws that 'B' on his other ass cheek, almost a little scream. "ow ow fuck ow.." he says, wriggling again now as if trying to escape the hand in his hair and the cuts on his ass and his thighs, making the same yelps of pain as he had before...of course writhing around only makes it worse as well as trapping his cock between himself and the mattress, which makes him moan on top of it, until he feels the knife on his balls, and then he says, "Seriously, please don't!" prepared to use the stop word if he has to, because that is going further than he's willing to go.
 
Orien smirked faintly and drew the knife away, standing smoothly and retreating to the wall of toys, fingers trailing over the whips and crops, pausing on one that had a few pieces of dull metal tied into them. They weren't quite sharp enough to cut without a good force behind it, but they'd sting like hell. He tossed the knife into a bucket and picked up the whip, giving it a flick and enjoying the crack the thin leather strips made in the air. He flicked it again as he stepped back to Devon, the tips and metal striking the flesh of his ass and thighs.
 
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