Into The Deep A BDSM Novel

By T.L. Stone

Disappointed and ashamed of her past, Mercilla Kane leaves her life as an escort and delves into the mysterious world of BDSM through a chance meeting with a client.
On her quest for power and control in her life, she meets a seasoned Domme named Mistress Pandora who takes her down into The Deep; a dark dungeon where Pandora is the master of all of her eager and willing submissives. There she teaches Mercilla how to master the role of the Domme, and the important rules of the trade that must in all circumstances be followed.
Through her new role Mercilla is finally able to take back control in her life; but because of her scorn for the opposite sex, she discovers that she’s more sadistic toward her submissives than the role requires.
Mercilla grapples with residual feelings about her past as she embraces the new, exotic and exciting world that she’s been thrust into; and along her journey she meets two men who alter her life. One, a male dominant who awakens the lust and passion within her that she never knew existed; the other, an unorthodox, charismatic, but damaged client named Mr. King.
Through deep and challenging conversation, she and the latter bring each other down a path of self-realization and redemption that alters both of their lives. But along the way they discover that the things they seek the most have a way of being the most elusive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.L. Stone
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370104895

T.L. Stone

T.L. Stone is a fiction writer of the following genres: Dark Fantasy, Dystopia, Romance, Erotica and mystery. She has written a number of short stories and 3 novels.

Book preview

INTO THE DEEP

A BDSM Novel

T.L. STONE

Copyright 2017 by T.L. Stone

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic and mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission of the copyright owner.

CHAPTER 1

A burst of red light filled the room, replacing the darkness. Mercilla glanced around at a room that looked as though it had been stripped bare with faded shapes on the walls where pictures had been. She listened to the sound of slow, persistent banging.

Is anyone there? she asked as she rounded a corner and found herself in another room lit by a single blue light bulb.

When she turned the next corner, she found herself in a third room identical to the first two, except this one was flooded with yellow light.

Footsteps swept the floor behind her as a deep, raspy voice cried out. I know you, it said.

She spun around in the direction of the voice as a thin, dilapidated, nude body stood before her, banging its head against the wall. She gasped in horror as she took a closer look at the frightening figure at the other end of the small room. It was egg-shell white, as though all the blood had been drained from its veins. Its feet were hooved, like that of a pig, and where its genitals should have been there was nothing more than a layer of skin. On its head were two large ram horns above a pair of wide black eyes that slanted downward, and a horrible red mouth filled with numerous layers of small, jagged teeth.

Help me, it cried, reaching out with thin, white, elongated hands.

Mercilla took a step back as the creature stepped forward, its long legs clearing the gap between them in a few quick strides.

What do you want from me? she demanded, horrified.

The creature’s eyes closed for a moment, and then opened again. I want you to see me, it pleaded. Please, see me.

She gasped and turned to flee the room as it started to walk again toward her. It was chanting in what sounded like Latin, when she found herself in another room with a large white door. She pulled violently on the handle, but could not get it open, then a small window appeared out of nowhere. She squeezed her way through and tumbled to the ground and into a cold, dark wasteland covered in barren trees.

Mercilla shot up from the sofa in a cold sweat. Her heart was pounding as it did every time she dreamt about the creature. She closed her eyes again, shutting out all thoughts of the disturbing dream. She fumbled with her cell phone on the ottoman in front of her. It was already six-thirty in the evening; she’d dozed off. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she got up and walked over to the bathroom. She pressed her hands up against the sink, leaned over and studied the face in the mirror.

The dark circles beneath her eyes stood out against the pale skin. She peered at the plump lips resting beneath the long, slightly crooked nose. Many times she wished she had more delicate features, but she was becoming more at peace with her appearance.

She splashed cold water on her face, contemplating her life, the mistakes she’d made, the decisions she regretted and those responsible for the path she now found herself on. She was tired of blaming her father who’d abandoned her and her mother when she was only five, and hoped the call she was about to make would be a new beginning for her.

She turned off the light, went back over to the sofa and picked up the business card beside her phone. She read the name in red print, then flipped it over and read the phone number and address. Beneath that was the word Domme. She twirled the card around with her fingers and contemplated whether or not to make the call. Her trust in the male species had greatly diminished after the physical abuse she’d endured throughout her career as an escort, and finding herself in several dangerous situations with unsavory men had helped to cement her deep distrust in them. She was, however, curious about the mysterious name on the card and the strange and exotic world of the Domme. She’d seen images of beautiful, confident women wrapped in latex and wearing thigh high boots. There had been a few documentaries she’d watched and a couple of things on YouTube that had caught her attention, but she knew very little about the trade. It was just by chance that one of her clients happened to leave the card behind during one of their sessions. She’d had it for a few days, but hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to make the call. She took a deep breath, picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang twice before a woman answered.

This is Mistress, Pandora on the line. With whom am I speaking?

Mercilla fumbled for the right words. I have ahh . . . a business card from you. I was just wondering what you do, exactly.

We do any number of things here. It all depends on what sort of scenario you’re interested in. We have a wide variety of equipment and Mistresses to choose from. We also have a very experienced dominant.

No, she corrected. I’m actually calling about the possibility of working with you.

I see. Well, actually, I could use another Mistress. My business is expanding right now and I’ve been looking at the possibility of opening another dungeon in the next year or so.

Another dungeon?

Yes, dear. That’s where we work. Do you know much about the business?

Mercilla could tell by the woman’s tone that she was starting to lose confidence in the prospect of her fitting into her business plan, so she pretended to be more informed than she really was. Yes. I know quite a bit. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’ve seen several videos.

Pandora laughed. Don’t worry, it’s not difficult to learn. You just need a pair of long black boots, an instrument of punishment and the ability to boss men around. The bigger the bitch, the better.

Okay. I think I can do that.

You think you can do it, or you know you can do it? I can’t teach confidence and you need that in spades. Otherwise, there’s really no reason for these guys to illicit your services. This is how they get off.

Mercilla quickly corrected herself. Yes. I can do it. I’ll have no problem with that, she lied.

Okay. I’d like for you to come down and see me tonight at eight. Can you do that? You have my address on the back of that card, right?

Yes. I see it here.

Good. Try to be on time. I have a busy schedule and not much of a break between clients.

Okay. I’ll see you at eight.

Mercilla put down the phone. An eight o’clock interview was rather unusual, she thought, but then again, so was the business she was about to embark upon. She wondered if she’d made the right decision and if she could even do the job. She already had a lot of experience with men and their sexual proclivities, so perhaps this new line of work wouldn’t be so difficult. The difference was that she would no longer have to take her clothes off, or have sex with her clients, according to the little research she’d done.

She went into the bedroom and rummaged through her closet for an outfit that might show a little daring and confidence. This wasn’t an ordinary interview. Pandora probably wouldn’t appreciate a starched white shirt and a pair of black pants.

She stood helplessly in front of the small closet with no idea of what to put on and not much time to get ready. There were a number of miniskirts that she wore to her appointments with her clients and a wide assortment of brightly coloured tube tops. She glanced over at the three fitted sweaters she owned, and then at the array of satin blouses. She slipped on a pair of black tights and a turquoise blouse and examined herself in the full length mirror. She didn’t like the way the blouse hung off of her slender frame. She twisted herself into different angles, inspecting her butt and thighs, all of which she believed were too small and unshapely. She frowned, turned off the light and headed into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly bare, with a few slices of left over pizza, some wine and a can of soda. She grabbed the soda, slipped on a pair of black heels and locked the front door behind her.

***

When she reached the area, she parked her car in the vacant lot directly across from the building and started out toward the small, run-down structure on the corner of the street. She double checked the address on the building before venturing inside. There was a petite stern looking Asian woman at the reception desk filing her nails and listening to the radio. She turned down the volume when Mercilla walked in.

Excuse me, I’m looking for Mistress, Pandora.

She looked Mercilla over. Do you have an appointment? she asked.

Yes. At eight o’clock.

She glanced up at the large black and white clock on the wall above the door. Downstairs, she said, pointing to the long hallway behind her desk. She went back to filing her nails and turned up the radio.

Mercilla headed down the hallway, opened the black door on her left and descended the narrow steps to another black door that had the words The Deep emblazoned across it in white paint. She gave it a light knock and waited. She was nervous at the thought of meeting Pandora, but she also felt a small pang of excitement at the notion of conversing with a real-life Domme. She knocked again, but this time with a little more confidence; but again there was no answer, so she pulled on the handle and let herself in.

The door snapped shut behind her. It was dark inside, but she could see a red light gleaming from within as she stepped, hesitantly, forward. There were a few chairs arranged in a neat row facing a large stage. She moved a little closer, careful not to disturb the tall, curvaceous woman positioned under a swinging red light bulb. She was standing on the stage, hovering over a man of medium build and holding what appeared to be a paddle. Her long, black, wavy hair swept the shoulders of the black latex catsuit with a silver zipper that ran up the front. Around her waist was a thick, black leather belt with a large silver buckle, a simple, yet effective outfit topped off by a pair of black patent leather boots with no less than a five inch heel. She bent down and muttered something to the man who was on all fours in a white dress shirt and a pair of red thongs. He nodded vigorously. Mercilla watched as she gave him a wack on his behind with the paddle. Slowly, she circled him, then bent down to look him directly in the eye.

That’s right, she said. You take it like a big boy. I don’t want to hear a sound out of you unless it’s to thank me for the time I’m taking to train you. She straightened up and peered down at the man. You believe that my time is valuable, don’t do?

Yes, Mistress, he replied.

You believe that this training is absolutely vital to you learning discipline, don’t you?

Yes, Mistress.

She slapped the paddle against her palm and shook her head in disapproval. Then why aren’t you thanking me?

My mistake. Thank you, Mistress, said the man.

She slapped the paddle harder against her palm. We don’t make mistakes down here in The Deep. I won’t allow it. Do you hear me?

Yes, Mistress.

Let this be your last. She glanced over at Mercilla. Step from the darkness and into the light where I can see you, she ordered. Mercilla moved away from the chairs and toward the stage where the black carpet ended. Mercilla, right?

Yes. I’m here for the interview? she said nervously.

Pandora tilted her head, studying her. Was that a question or a statement?

She straightened up and forced a look of confidence. A statement, she said. You’re Pandora, right?

Who else would I be? she replied, turning her attention back toward the man on the floor who was attempting to straighten his back and stretch. She gave him a swift wack with the paddle for his indiscretion. Did I tell you to change your position?

No, Pandora, he said.

She wacked him again. How dare you? Have you never been in the presence of a woman of my caliber before? Don’t you ever address me again without the title, Mistress. She grabbed him by the chin. Your Mistress requires an apology, she said in a stern voice.

I’m sorry, Mistress. My mistake.

And what did I tell you about making mistakes?

Not to make them, Mistress.

Follow the protocol and you’ll be fine, unless you’re not a worthy submissive. She bent down again to look the man in the eye, her plump, pale cleavage pressing against the partially open zipper on her catsuit. His eyes veered down to her breasts. Do you like what you see, submissive?

He glanced down quickly. I don’t know, Mistress, he lied.

Do you appreciate my training? Do you want to open Pandora’s Box and see what tricks I have inside?

Yes, Mistress. More than anything.

Are you worthy, submissive?

Yes, Mistress, he assured her.

You better be, she said as she yanked him up by the collar and led him over to a large steel cage at the side of the stage. You say you’re worthy, but I’m not yet convinced. You’ve made a number of transgressions here today that I cannot and will not accept. You’ll have to prove your worthiness to me and this is where you’re going to start. She opened the cage and led the man inside, ordering him to sit down as she closed the door. She turned back to Mercilla who was fixated on him. Do you feel bad for him? Pandora asked, noticing the look on her face.

A little.

Don’t. He’s fine. Believe me, he’s enjoying this. This treatment makes him feel like more of a man. The pain and discomfort he feels opens up his mind and puts him on another level. He experiences his limits of pain, which awards him pleasure and the satisfaction of being a man who can endure levels of discomfort that most men are afraid of.

And how does it make you feel to treat him like that? Mercilla asked.

Pandora smiled. Like I was meant to feel as a woman, powerful, capable and in control. Welcome to my chamber of horrors. Well, it’s not as horrifying as you might think. You’ll get used to it; and if you do it right, you’ll even start to enjoy it. She walked over to the row of chairs. Let’s have a seat over here.

Mercilla glanced back at the cage. Is he gonna be okay in there?

He’ll be fine. I just have a few questions, then I’d like to see what you can do. She pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.

So, as I told you, I’m looking for another Mistress to join my team. There are three others working under me; you would be the fourth. I just need to know your hours of availability.

Right now I’m pretty free, said Mercilla.

You’re not working at the moment?

No, she lied. Somehow she didn’t think this powerful, latex-covered woman would respect her, much less hire her if she knew that she made her living submitting to men’s sexual needs.

And would you be willing to learn how to handle a man in this fashion?

Yes, I’d be willing. It took me off guard at first, but I could get the hang of it.

Good. I like your attitude. Most people have the wrong idea about the Domme. It’s the most respectable profession within the sex industry. It pays well and there’s no sex involved. You wouldn’t even have to take your clothes off. I can offer you about two hundred dollars an hour to start. As you become more experienced and clients start to ask for you, I’ll raise your pay. One of my girls has been with me for six months and she’s already making two hundred and fifty an hour.

That sounds good to me, said Mercilla. It was a little less than what she was making as an escort, but the idea of not having to sell her body for money had great appeal. And if she worked hard, eventually, she’d be making considerably more. Do you enjoy this sort of thing? she asked.

Pandora laughed. This sort of thing? I sense a bit of judgment in your tone.

Mercilla quickly corrected herself. No. I’m not judging. I think it’s interesting what you do.

Pandora squinted her large green eyes. If it’s interesting that you’re after, then I suggest taking a job as a journalist. This is about powerplay, roleplay, fantasy and intrigue. It’s about being in complete control, not only control of your submissive, but control of yourself as well.

Control of yourself? Mercilla asked.

Pandora gave her a coy smile. "Do you think the role of Mistress will be a walk in the park? It takes a certain caliber of woman to take on this