The Janus Trap

Take these three for example...

Even though he was in his early sixties, the man was in pretty good shape for his age. He worked out regularly and took good care of himself and there was only the slightest hint of the sag of time in his skin. He had a full head of steel gray hair kept neatly trimmed. His square jaw and movie star looks still made the women's hearts flutter when he spoke. He was a mover and shaker in his corner of the world who got things done. He fancied himself a leader of men and when he spoke people listened.

Except for his monthly visits to Joshua's basement rooms.

The platform the man knelt on was five feet square. The center had thin padding covered with leather. The outside edge was lined with rings every six inches as attachment points. His strong wrists and ankles were tightly restrained in steel shackles connected to thick chains leading to the four corners, only allowing him about six inches of movement in any direction. The lower part of that handsome face was covered by a leather mask which went from the bridge of his nose to under his chin. Slits in the leather allowed him to breathe through his nose. A plastic tube about six inches around was inserted two inches into his mouth, keeping his jaws open wide. The opening of the tube was blocked by a rubber plug attached by a small chain to the lower part of the mask.

Restrained.

Mute.

Powerless.

All he could do was watch.

And want.

They knew what he wanted so they made damn well sure he could see clearly.

The other two, in contrast, were quite young. Completely legal, of course. One was nineteen and the other twenty. Joshua always had color copies of their identity papers on file before they were ever even allowed in the house. They were both fit and trim and quite pretty if you were into that sort of thing, with dark hair and eyes and slightly olive skin.

And, of course, the vigor of youth.

One lay face down on the padded floor with his butt stuck invitingly up in the air while the other knelt behind him, slowly feeding his young thick prick into the others tight ass. They both groaned in pleasure as he went deeper and deeper.

"Ah fuck Manolito... Mmmm yes... Fuck me." He turned his head to look at the restrained older man. "Make the old bastard watch." The other gripped his hips hard and thrust the last inch of his prick inside, rubbing his belly against his partner's firm little ass cheeks.

"Mmmm yes, Dominic..." He panted. "I just love fucking your sweet little ass. I won't let him have you like I have you. No pretty little boy ass for him. He can just fucking watch... Aaaahhh..." He began thrusting his prick in and out while the other boy groaned and sighed.

A whimper of desire leaked out from behind the leather mask and the rubber plug. Those bright blue eyes scarcely even blinked as he took in each and every second of the scene unfolding right in front of him. The muscles in his hips flexed ever so slightly and beneath his body he was completely erect.

While the entire scene was being recorded by the cameras built into the corners as always, the little vignette in the center of the room was surrounded by six more video cameras standing blatantly on tripods. One of Joshua's servants also walked around the room with another on his shoulder like a news cameraman at an auto accident, filming from all angles. It looked for all intents and purposes as if they were filming a porn movie.

None of the footage would ever see the light of day, naturally. For the three players involved just knowing such film existed was more than enough.

Dominic cried out over and over again while the other young man drove into his ass hard and fast. The deep grunts coming from Manolito's chest laid down a bass line and the frantic slap-slap-slap of flesh against flesh was the rhythm to Dominic's chorus of delight. But the main verses came from the older man who moaned and whined a sad yet appreciative ballad of love.

At the last possible moment the man on top pulled out of his panting partner, hand moving up and down his shaft as he stood. His entire body was taut and he jacked his cock frantically then with a groan began spewing thick ribbons of come all over the restrained man's back. Dominic likewise rose and stroked his own prick until he shot his own load all over the man's face. He didn't even blink at first, though it must have stung as at least one salvo landed in the corner of his eye. His hips flexed and his own member began leaking his own contribution to the sticky mess on the platform.

There was already quite the puddle beneath him for it wasn't the first time during the session he'd reached orgasm. His body was spattered all over with the residue from his two partners since neither of them had come without spraying it all over him.

Or inside of him.

There was seminal fluid leaking from his asshole and drying on his sack and cheeks. Both young men had taken him roughly that way at least once and the rubber plug in his mouth was slick and salty with the same fluids since he'd been unable to swallow with his jaws held open by the tube.

Between the three of them they had managed to make quite a mess in his room. The servants who did the cleaning were going to need a bonus for this one, probably. The reek of sex made Joshua's nose twitch. It was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Personally, he was glad this session was over. These monthly games bored him slightly as he had nothing really to do. He'd been sitting in his chair watching for three hours. They had never once required or even needed him to participate. All they wanted for him was to observe.

All they required was an audience.

And a place to play, of course.

For the money they were paying, he was happy to oblige, even if it was boring.

There was no need to press a button this time to signal the end of the session. He just rose from his seat and left the room without a word. The cameraman was part of Joshua's cleanup and after care crew and his partner was waiting behind one of the doors to direct them to the showers. They would get cleaned up and dressed and ushered out the back to waiting cars and back to their outside lives. None of them would ever see or even speak to any of the others until they met again the following month.

Manolito would get up in the morning and go back to the shoe store where he worked. Provide for his wife and their infant daughter.

Dominic would attend classes as a journalism student. Take his girlfriend out for pizza now and then.

And John would go back to his congregation. Tending to the souls of his flock and occasionally denouncing the sinners and the pornographers of this great city. He'd even preached a rousing sermon against Joshua and the popularity of his books, calling them "A pernicious blight on the souls of mankind."

He didn't take it personally.

John always paid in cash.

Interlude Two

Dog knelt on the floor and wagged.

Dog was happy and allowed itself a bit of pride as it had satisfied Owner well with it's body.

In Dog's mind and heart Owner was a God. The sole reason for Dog's existence. It gazed upon Owner's face in rapture, feeling it's heart swell with love and adoration.

Of course the leather mask covering it's face didn't allow Dog to see out of both eyes at the same time so it turned it's head from side to side. The slight movement made the springy rubber tail attached to the plug in Dog's butt to wag back and forth, sending little waves of pleasure up and down it's nervous system.

Dog was assured of it's place in the universe. It fully understood down to the very core of it's being why it was placed on this world. Dressed in it's mask, collar, harness, tail and boots, Dog was the most contented creature on the planet. It knew what was required of it at all times. It's life was defined by rituals and schedules and strict rules Dog was to always follow.

As always, there was a little bit of pain here and there. Dog's body was pink and mottled red with abrasions and welts. There were even a few bite marks lingering here and there. Owner tended to bite in passion when Dog was especially good at it's job. There was one in particular at the back of Dog's neck which stung even now. The slow motion back and forth as Dog looked out the holes of it's mask kept the sting alive and fresh while easing it just slightly. The wagging of it's tail also helped.

Dog reveled in the pain as a sign of Owner's love.

Dog accepted Owner's punishments as it's due and tried it's best to learn to be a better pet for Owner.

For Dog, there would be none other than Owner.

Owner was intelligent and successful.

Owner was a published author with a band of loyal readers who hung on Owner's every word.

Owner knew how to bring Dog to the heights of ecstasy with a touch or a word or a gesture.

Owner was the brightest star and the most beautiful person Dog had ever encountered.

Owner was what Dog had been looking for it's whole life.

Dog was in love.

Dog sat by Owner's chair and wagged it's tail.

Four

If you could bring yourself to call him a hero, The Artist was the hero in the "Sculpted" books by Jax Greyfox. If more accurate descriptions were called for, he was a high-functioning sociopath with hyper-sexuality and delusions of grandeur combined with an ego which always demanded to be fed.

His bronze sculptures were always lauded by the critics as being the most evocative they had ever seen. The faces and expressions and bodies all portrayed The Artist's favorite themes, which were generally pain, passion, ecstasy and unbridled lust. Or any combination thereof.

What neither the art world nor his customers knew was that for every five or six sculptures The Artist produced a new person disappeared from the streets of New Orleans, never to be seen again. When he purchased the long-abandoned monastery to be his studio, The Artist had discovered the network of tunnels excavated under the abbey a century ago. Used back then as storage for the monks, the stone rooms and tunnels became home for The Artists unlucky models. He kept them handy both for their physical forms to copy and to feed his twisted sexual desires.

It was The Artist's desires for pain and severe forms of bondage which made the faces on his sculptures so exquisite and realistic.

The first book had been put out in the world just to see if there would be any interest at all. To Joshua's immense surprise and delight it caught on and "went viral" through word of mouth and over the internet and the first printing went quickly out of stock. Even digital copies were selling at a phenomenal rate. A movie deal was discussed inside of the first year.

He cashed the first royalty check and hired an attorney.

He rolled up his sleeves and went back to work, producing one more volume each year for the following three years. Interest never waned and the money kept rolling in. He bought the house and hired the staff, at first in the interests of his own comfort.

Suddenly everybody was talking about Jax Greyfox. They all wanted to see him and speak to him and hear his words and they speculated on his life and his tastes and who he was seeing and what he was wearing and where he was eating.

Quite a few more of them wanted to get a taste of his world, even though for Joshua it was completely fictional. He'd never once even tied up a partner during sex and had absolutely no actual hands-on experience with BDSM.

It didn't help any when he would say "I am not The Artist."

They thought he was just being picky.

And those few began to grow insistent.

In response Joshua took two year's vacation, away from the city and the fans and the writing. He traveled to Tokyo and Bangkok and London, Paris and San Francisco. Using Jax Greyfox's money and influence but his real name, he apprenticed himself to as many professional Dominants as he could find, learning the craft and perfecting his techniques.

When he returned he began remodeling the brownstone and hiring more staff and writing.

"Weeping Angels" was the fifth and final book in the "Sculpted" series. It was acclaimed as his finest work ever and the first check from the publisher was in the tens of millions.

His very first paying client was a certain redheaded action movie star who gave him much needed experience while fattening his bank account all the while. Her fees alone had repaid all of the money he had spent remodeling the basement into his private playground.

Now he was in hot demand not only as a writer but as a professional Dominant as well.

It was a role Joshua had never quite expected.

In public he still said "I am not The Artist." Though nobody believed him.

While in private and only to himself he also said "I am not Jax Greyfox, either."

But there was nobody there to listen.

Five

The girls name was Dusty, of all things.

Kind of a tomboyish name, but then Dusty was kind of a tomboyish girl. The youngest child in a family with five older brothers she had learned from an early age to run and play hard and fast if she wanted any space or any respect at all from her older siblings.

She'd grown up to be strong, self assured and fearless. A girl who had excelled at anything and everything she had put her mind to.

Class valedictorian. Cheerleader. Softball, volleyball and lacrosse.

Always courageous.

Never looking back.

Always moving forward.

One year ago she had begun a new adventure in her life as the new bride of a freshly drafted pro quarterback whom she had met and fallen in love with their first year of college. It had been a whirlwind romance which had swept Dusty off of her feet and left her dazed but happier than she had ever been in her life.

She vowed with all of her heart to do anything to keep her new husband happy.

But this...

She wasn't so sure about this.

For the first time in her life Dusty McClure was frightened and uncertain and was seriously considering running away. From her perfect life and her perfect husband and definitely from this.

Even if Jeremy's favorite secret fantasy was owning a trained slave who would serve him in any and every way he wished.

Perhaps she'd gone a little too far in her quest to please her husband.

One month, he'd said.

One month and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Jeremy and Dusty had looked at each other, searching their hearts while her hands clutched his on the sofa of their hotel room. She couldn't believe they were actually talking to him... She couldn't believe they were actually going through with this.

"We don't have to do this, D..." Jeremy was always so gallant. "I will love you no matter what." She squeezed his fingers nervously.

"I want to make your dreams come true, J. All of them." Dusty tried hard to sound braver than she really felt at the moment.

On the table in front of them was a lengthy contract. It was several pages long and basically stated they agreed Dusty was going to belong, body and soul, to Jax Greyfox for the period of one month and that they allowed him to do anything he wished to her for that period as long as it did not involve any kind of permanent or disfiguring injury or death.

In return aforementioned Jax Greyfox agreed to spent the period of one month training her to be the perfect submissive for her husband, able to serve and please him in any way he wished.

Of course it wasn't really as simple as all of that. Before they were even allowed to meet the man himself both of them had spent several sessions over the period of a few weeks with a psychologist on his payroll. Through a series of interviews and some hypnotherapy they had spilled all of their deepest fantasies, fears and desires. A rather thick report was submitted.

It seemed they had passed.

It should have been a good thing. Dusty was going forward with this to make her husband's dreams come true.

So why was she so frightened?

Her hand shook as she signed her portion of the contract. It gave her a little bit of satisfaction to see Jeremy fumble a little as he signed above her name and filled out the check. Her strong and handsome quarterback husband was trembling slightly, teetering on the edge of nervous excitement. She could see he was also about half hard. That long thick tool of his which had given her so much pleasure was twitching on the inside of his thigh through the thin material of his flannel pants.

As kind of a preview of what was to come, they had been given very specific instructions before Mr. Greyfox arrived. None of their personal possessions were to be in the room when he arrived. The only item allowed was their checkbook and a pen. Both of them were to be wearing flannel pajama pants and white t-shirts with absolutely nothing underneath. Tennis shoes and white socks.

They were not allowed to have sex for 24 hours before their appointment, which they thought was cruel and unusual. The both of them were so edgy by the whole thing it would have helped greatly to calm their nerves.

The final part of his instructions very nearly made them back out of the whole deal.

"If Mrs. McClure is accepted, she will depart with Mr. Greyfox then and there and belong to him for the duration of the contract. She will leave with nothing but the clothes on her back and whatever He deems to provide her with. No jewelry, no wedding ring. No clothing, toiletries, computers, books or cell phones.

There will be no contact of any sort for the duration of the contract. She will be taken to an undisclosed location and remain there until her training is complete. Any attempt to insist or to force disclosure will result in the termination of the contract and the training and forfeiture of the fee in full."

No contact at all? For an entire month?

No phone? No... wedding ring...?

Dusty swallowed hard and looked at her husband.

"I can do this..." She thought. "For him."

Throughout the entire process the man himself had sat quietly, not saying a word. Never removing those dark glasses. Merely turn the walking stick, seemingly rapt in gazing at the silver chased wolfs head. All of their questions had been answered by his "associate" who was either an attorney or a private secretary or possibly a bodyguard.

The check and contract were swept into a briefcase and the other man left the room. Jax stood and pointed at Dusty saying "Stand up."

When she did he turned her with a hand on her shoulder. A pair of steel handcuffs went around her wrists, the sound as he secured her hands behind her back loud in the stunned silence of the room. From another pocket he produced a slim metal collar. It was as big around as a pencil with an ingenious hinge in the middle and a ring attached. He placed it around Dusty's neck and closed it with an allen wrench.

Shrugging, Greyfox pulled off the long leather jacket and draped it over Dusty's shoulders, hiding the restraints and the fact her nipples were so hard they were ready to rip through the material of her shirt. He pointed at the young quarterback, who had sat red-faced and taut as a bowstring, as if he were considering leaping up and killing the man who was about to take his pretty little new wife away from him.

"Stand up." He said. "Kiss her. You have ten seconds."

Those strong sure quarterback hands trembled a little as he cupped her face in his palms.

"Oh my god, Dusty. I love you."

"Five."

"Me too, J... I mmmmph..." Jeremy kissed her hard. His wife struggled against the cuffs, wanting to hold her husband and a little moan of mixed frustration and desire came from her chest.

As frightened and nervous as she was, Dusty was completely amazed at how incredibly horny she was at that very moment. Her whole body was vibrating like a guitar string and if Jeremy had touched her the right way... hell, if he'd even just brushed against her nipple she was sure she would have fallen on the floor and had an orgasm right then and there.