Midnight Rose Ch. 01

Hello, my name is Fantasy Weaver. I am a first-time poster on this site, but have written works elsewhere, though my works are more centered on hair fetishism. The works I post here will be of the BDSM, Dom/Sub variety, catered to a much larger audience. Yes, there will be elements of hair fetishism (most notably, bodily shaving), but otherwise will be of the BDSM genre. Do not let this deter you from trying out the first part of this story. If it is not to your liking, well, I can't do much about that I'm afraid. However, if you do find yourself enjoying this first part and are wanting -thirsting- for more, I should have you covered.

Disclaimer: Every character in this story is over 18 years of age, and any resemblance to real people or events are coincidental. Any music listed beyond this point belongs to their original composer.

For atmosphere, please listen to Two Steps From Hell - "Into Darkness" from the point at which the center stage lights up in red.

Thank you, and happy reading!

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Synopsis: They say black roses represent death and tragedy. But a black rose can also symbolise elegance, rebirth, the end of a chapter of one's life. It is of conflicting meanings, of danger and change in equal measure. They also say that the most beautiful flower has thorns. How beautiful is his flower then, if it was surrounded by them?

Through a chance meeting at the infamous Midnight Rose BDSM club, a young man gets the thorns of his soul plucked away. With tender care, devotion, giving and gaining of control, perhaps he will find out what color his rose is; how well it might pair with the darkness and kindness of his Master's heart.

This story will eventually contain the following: gay men, gay sex, romance, BDSM, soft BDSM, oral, anal, over-stimulation, hair fetishism, hurt-comfort, cock-milking, orgasm control, chastity, tenderness, among other things.

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He couldn't quite believe he was doing this.

After being practically dragged here by his two best friends, after complaining about the unfairness of it all, after countless attempts at explaining why he didn't want to come here, well, Elias was here anyway.

He could scarcely think over the blaring music. How could anyone even hear themselves, let alone have a conversation, when there was so much noise?

Elias rubbed the bridge of his nose, the glass of water the bartender had sneered at him for ordering practically forgotten on the countertop. A glance out at the dance floor showed that at least his friends were having fun.

Nick had managed to find himself deep in conversation with a small, dark-haired woman (obviously the guy with a loud mouth didn't mind the god-awful music blasting from the speakers). A glance further away, and he could barely make out Lily, her bright, electric blue hair standing out amongst the crowded dance floor. She was having the time of her life, dancing, grinding, with a man kitted out in leather clothing.

Elias sighed, nerves already frayed, and they had been here for half an hour, at most.

He didn't quite understand the appeal of this place. Nick and Lily had always pestered him about being too "vanilla", but unlike them, a BDSM club just wasn't his cup of tea.

Or so he vehemently told himself so.

"Well, hello there hottie."

Elias turned his head towards the woman who had spoken to him, her pierced lips upturned in what he assumed was supposed to be a seductive smile.

"Are you taken by any chance?"

The man flicked a stray strand of his black hair behind his ear, turning in his seat just slightly, showing off the white rose pin given to him when they first entered.

The look on her face changed immediately at the sight of it. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you weren't participating." She turned back to where she came from, offering a polite goodbye.

Elias fingered the enamel pin, it's edges showing signs of wear after being worn so many times in the past, likely by people in very similar situations to his.

He had been adamant about not participating in his friend's night of debauchery. Luckily, the club had strict rules regarding consent, and these pins were mandatory for whoever entered the club, even if only to drink and dance to the music.

The emblem of the club, "Midnight Rose" as it was called, was just that. The pins were in different colors, depending on what the person wearing it is looking for. A white rose, pure, untarnished, means the wearer does not wish to participate in any activity.

A light blue rose indicates a submissive, unclaimed, willing to participate. Red roses are for claimed submissives, with a leaf inscribed with their Dominant's name. Black roses are reserved for Dominants.

The young man was glad for the protection the white pin brought him. With the kind of people he had spotted while sitting at the bar, he didn't want to know what being available for "play" could entail. How Nick and Lily felt brave enough to don the blue pin, he could not tell. They had always been far more adventurous compared to him, and had recounted many a night they had had escapades in this club.

Usually, one of Lily's girlfriends was their first choice to accompany them, as the young woman was strictly non-alcoholic due to some health issues, making her the perfect designated driver (plus, she also had an affinity for this sort of club). However, tonight she could not come keep Elias' two friends in check, hence, why he was here instead.

The current song came to an end, and the DJ on stage hyped up the crowd with some choice raunchy words, getting a new beat out of the speakers. Elias winced, one hand coming to rub circles on his left temple. There were so many people, so much noise, and too little room to breathe.

At length, Nick and Lily, already sufficiently drunk, came to the bar where Elias sat, dark grey eyes practically glaring down his two friends in unveiled irritation.

"Fuck Elias," Lily slurred her words, and now Elias was certain she was more than just tipsy, "You really gotta loosen up. Come on! Put a smile on your face!"

He wouldn't.

"Dude, really," Nick entreated, one hand still firmly around his drink, "at least come on the floor with us. We want to have fun WITH you!"

Elias shifted in his seat, eyes hardening still -and his headache pounding the space between his eyebrows. He looked at the dance floor, laden with throngs of people. "I'm not going to...dance, or whatever it was that you were doing" he said this while gesturing towards the young woman, "and I don't see why you're getting mad at me about not wanting to. I didn't want to be here to begin with."

A despairing groan came from Lily, who had thrown her blue head back in exasperation. "Come on! You're such a prude; can't even be around people without thinking your gonna get pounced on."

"I did not say that."

"But you were thinking it!"

"Look," Nick entreated, "Lily and I want to go stage-side and see some action. Just come with us so you can keep us from being idiots?"

"Because you aren't already?" Elias threw back, but conceded that Nick had a point. He couldn't leave them out of his sight. Both of them were already well into their drink and God knows they are both far too bold for their own good, moreso when alcohol is involved. As tedious as all this is, and as much as the raven wanted nothing more than to get out of this place, he couldn't just leave his two friends to fend for themselves. At least, not while this intoxicated.

"What do you mean by stage-side?" Elias asked after a pause, his mind coming back to the present moment.

"It's like..." Nick waved his hands about, trying his hardest to put words into his thoughts, "There's all these stages with BDSM gear on them, and people can put on some shows. You know what I mean right?"

Oh, Elias knew perfectly well what he meant. Once more, he ground through his teeth, "If you think I'm going there with you guys-"

"Please..." Lily begged him. "I want to see some hot guy getting shibari'ed' to hell, I'm desperate."

"To be honest, Sylvia is going to see the stages and I want to get a chance to get under her-"

Elias stopped Nick before the blonde could get any more details out. He assumed Sylvia was the girl he had been flirting with on the floor before. "I didn't come here to see people fucking around, quite literally. I came here to watch both of you dumbasses" he pointed to each of them in turn, "so no, I'm not moving."

Nick and Lily, in a moment of pure brain-sharing idiocy, looked at each other, shrugged, and turned around. "Okay. You can stay there. We'll be looking at people getting fucked up," Nick stated nonchalantly, to the disapproval of his friend.

"What!?" Elias watched, taken completely aback at their lack of thought, as they waltzed their way through the crowd into the hallway leading to the stages beyond. "Fuck, guys, Jesus fucking Christ..." Elias pushed off his barstool and ran after them, cursing their names under his breath. He swore, the next time they asked him for anything, he would use this very moment as an excuse to-

He stopped, momentarily shocked by the sight of the club's stage-side.

He had already observed that much of the club's ceiling was open space, laden with metal infrastructure which, now that he thought about it, probably helped keep the music so loud at all times. But here, the ceiling was teeming not only with infrastructure, but dozens upon dozens of chains, pulleys, some electronic devices and all manner of BDSM gear hanging from it. Though there were many stages, the bulk of the gear was concentrated above an elevated stage in the middle of the large, open room.

Bar the middle stage, most of the other ones were occupied by willing (at least he hoped they were willing) participants, eager to show off their well-trained submissives, or whatever it was these people did with their free time.

He could barely stare anywhere without seeing a dick, some cleavage, or exposed folds. Chains. Leather. Wetness. Moans. Cries. The sights and sounds mixed with the loud music in a lustful cacophony that left Elias feeling one part dizzy, one part frightened.

More terrifying though, was the sudden heat he could feel building up in his entire body.

'Snap out of it' he told himself, steadying his suddenly hitching breath. He had to find Nick and Lily and get the hell out of here. He had seen too much already.

After weaving through people in all manner of sex-gear and frankly useless pieces of clothing that covered almost nothing -not to mention dodging a number of attempts at being roped into a conversation with far too many dominants for his liking- the dark-haired man finally spotted the familiar shock of blue hair that belonged to Lily.

He was about six feet away from his two friends when the music suddenly stopped and all the lights went out.

For a moment, all talk, all sounds stopped, replaced with a murmur of confusion from the crowd. Elias looked ahead, just about able to make out his friends in the darkness.

Then the center stage lit up in deep, crimson red, a fog machine somewhere out of sight providing atmosphere to the already tense room.

Elias' heartbeat stilled as a tall, imposing figure stalked out of the dark.

The crowd went dead silent. The figure, a man, commanded an aura of dominion over the room. The air around him almost rippled with the undeniable authority he held in his grasp.

The breath inside Elias' throat was sucked out, stolen, as two intense, golden eyes stared right at him.

The moment, a minute or a second, seemed to go on forever, in which those eyes, all-seeing, all knowing, seemed to peer right into his soul.

The eyes lifted, and Elias hungrily gulped down some much needed oxygen.

At long last, the insufferable silence was broken. A stagehand attached a wireless microphone to the man's dark suit, scurrying away quickly as two bright red spotlights and single neutral one illuminated the mysterious man.

As soon as he spoke, Elias could no longer think.

"Good evening. I bid you all a warm welcome to Midnight Rose."

The raven listened intently, having never heard a voice so distinct. The man had no accent to speak of, and yet spoke with such poise and dignity. Proper. He sounded proper, elegant, but with an undertone that Elias couldn't quite describe.

All he knew, was that this man could probably read the raunchiest text and somehow still make it sound pleasing to the ears.

"My name is Lucius Bellrose. Some may know me as the owner of this establishment."

There were excited murmurs from the crowd now, and Elias swore he heard someone say "This is gonna be good."

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat.

"But..." Lucius stepped around on the stage, with the grace of a hunting lion, his voice deep and clear in the microphone, "during these nights, I am not just the owner. I am your Dungeon Master, and my word here is rule."

His piercing eyes flicked to somewhere off stage, where a struggle was taking place. Elias arched his neck, terrified to find he was now interested in what was going on. He should get his friends. They needed to leave.

They should leave, before...

Before...what? He didn't know, and that scared him.

The struggle by the stage came from a tall, well-built guy being man-handled by the club's bouncers. He was naked, still sweaty from the struggle, or from what he had been doing prior to the struggle. The bouncers busied themselves with securing the man to chained cuffs, spreading his limbs wide so everyone could see. All the while, Lucius spoke with disinterest for the man's curses, his voice clearly portraying his distaste for this affair.

"My word here, as you all should be familiar with, is very simple: one, all participants must consent before an activity." As the bouncers finished securing the man, Lucius prowled the stage, steps echoing in the silent room. "And two: if the safeword is spoken, all activities must end and aftercare must given to the one who spoke it." His golden eyes hardened, glaring daggers at the man before him. "Should these rules be broken, the Dungeon Master has every right to enact a swift and just punishment of his choosing in accordance with the severity of the crime."

He spoke as though the restrained man was nothing more than a thug, a criminal of the lowest rank, and Elias realized far too late what he was about to witness; far, far too late.

His feet were glued to the spot, legs shaking with the knowledge of the inevitable event he had stumbled into.

From inside his suit, Lucius pulled out a folded piece of paper. Elias recognized it immediately, having signed such a contract when they entered the building.

Lucius held up the paper to the crowd, "All of you have signed your name on these papers, including this man here. Meaning, that since he has broken both of the fundamental rules of this establishment, and gone against my word, he has consented to being punished by myself for his transgressions." At this he stored the paper for safekeeping.

The crowd watched on, enraptured, as he expanded one elegant hand, and a stagehand placed the punishment device of his choosing in his right hand.

"Edward Harris," he addressed the man, who flinched, his back turned to the Dungeon Master, much quieter than he had been previously, "You forced a submissive into an act she did not consent to and refused to stop when she spoke the safeword. Rape," he said, voice loud and clear to get his point across, "Is the highest transgression in my Dungeon, and will not be taken lightly."

"Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it agai-" the man began to beg, but stopped when Lucius cracked the Cat-o-Nine-Tails in his hand.

"You will not speak unless spoken to. You will receive your punishment as an example for everyone here. Do you understand?"

Elias could barely hear the man's reply when Lucius cracked the whip on the ground again.

"I will repeat myself once. Do you understand?"

He had not shouted. His voice had risen but stayed level. How could he command such dominance just in his tone of voice?

"I understand, Master!"

Lucius was unrelenting. "You will receive fifteen lashes. Five on each thigh and buttocks, four on your upper back, and one across your back. You will say 'Forgive me Meghan' after each lash, and expect no forgiveness from her, me, or anyone else in this room. Do you understand?"

Fifteen lashes...Elias knew nothing about whips and whatnot, but fifteen sounded modest. Why such a small number?

Why was he even interested? He shouldn't be watching and yet...

"I understand Master," the culprit practically whimpered.

"Good," Lucius rumbled, assuming proper position, the nine-tailed whip grasped firmly in his right hand.

Elias held his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the Dungeon Master's imposing form. He watched, mesmerized, as the fabric of the man's expensive dark suit pulled taught against his arms and body, how the cloth accentuated the raw power hidden beneath it, and for a moment, Elias could only start to imagine what his naked body must look like.

When the first lash came however, all thoughts were replaced with a feeling of utter terror.

The sound of the Cat-o-Nine-Tails breaking through the air was the first thing to snap Elias back to reality. And not a second after, the piercing cry of the chained man as the nine knotted ends punctured the sensitive skin of his backside.

There was blood. Not a lot of it. But with fourteen more lashes to go, the raven understood now why it was such a low number. This whip left a lasting impression, even after just one lash.

"Forgive me Meghan!" The culprit cried, trying to adjust himself in his bonds.

"That's right. Let them hear you, Edward."

The second lash came, no less gentle than the first.

The young man could not comprehend how Lucius kept his face so calm, his body so relaxed. As the punished uttered out his apology, and the third lash landed, Elias found he had started to shake, and yet his eyes were transfixed by the looming figure before him, despite every nerve ending in his body screaming at him to turn, to run, to break the spell that the man had woven over his psyche.

As much as he tried, he was still there to see the fourth lash, and how the once unmarred skin of the man left buttocks began to slowly bleed.

"Forgive me Meghan!- AH!"

The fifth. The sixth. Seven, eight, nine. He was still staring by the tenth time that device of torture came down, and still there when the eleventh strike left blood spots on the man's upper back.

His breath became shallow, from the lack of room to breathe in the crowded showroom, or from the realization that watching Lucius, watching him give such a brutal, cruel, and unforgiving punishment...

It was making him feel things he did not want to.

The heat he had felt when entering the room; it bloomed throughout his being now, heating his face, twisting around his abdomen. His thighs clenched, with the effort to stand up, or from something far less innocent?

He flinched, the man's cries now hoarse and far too high-pitched for a guy his size. You could barely understand him when he asked for forgiveness.

Elias realized he was grinding his teeth together. A drop of sweat rolled off his temple.

Fourteen lashes. The culprit shook, rattling the chains that held him up. Sweat shone on his skin, along with the crimson drops slowly rolling off the punctured flesh.

"Very good Edward. You have one lash left. Be still for us, and think about what you have done."

Lucius' pose changed. The whip cracked across the man's back with far more force than the previous floggings, Elias was certain, as the sound that came from Edward's throat could be described only as something coming from a dying animal. He barely had the mind to ask for Meghan's forgiveness.