Pain Is So Close to Pleasure

There was a mirror behind the camera stand so he could tell how he looked. Joshua didn’t particularly care for what he saw. A fluffy pink bathrobe wasn’t all that bad in and of itself, but he wasn’t wearing anything under it. He knew he’d be naked soon enough. He didn’t really want to look at himself in the mirror then. Especially not when… hoo boy.

It had been a strange journey to this point. Jordan had just up and disappeared two weeks ago, didn’t answer calls, didn’t answer e-mails, didn’t open the door. Then he sent Joshua an e-mail with no title or message, just an image attached; photograph of an upstanding young man walking out of an establishment specializing in things done with Arachnid webbing. Nothing too bad in that, of course. Lots of stuff was made with that… stuff. There was nothing in the photo to hint that he’d been there for anything other than clothing or some such.
Then there was another e-mail, a couple minutes later, right when Joshua was in the middle of typing a lengthy reply, alternating between explaining why he’d been there and why it was none of anyone’s business. This new image was taken at night and was of Joshua entering an establishment called The Club. There was a sign with a picture of a wooden club. It was a bar known to be frequented by Ogres. Rough place. There was nothing wrong with that either, stiff drinks were served there and maybe Joshua was just a badass who could hold his liquor.
Having seen both images though, Joshua stopped trying to write his reply and waited. A third e-mail came. No title, no message, just another image.
This picture had been taken at night as well, but different night, a different place. It showed him leaving an establishment called Rapunzel’s. This was not a place you could exactly easily explain visiting for any other reason than, well, it looked worse than the other two. Taken together, this was a troublesome set of images. The first one meant nothing, the second was iffy, and the third one was downright damning and taken together…
A fourth e-mail came while he paced around the room, thinking about how it had been possible he’d been followed this easily, how it was possible that Jordan of all people had managed to figure out that he SHOULD be followed.
In the fourth photograph, again at night, he was exiting the premises of a school. Climbing over a fence, with a bag slung over his shoulder. The same school that had in fact been broken into some nights before and from which some gym clothes had been stolen, out of the lockers of middle-school girls. They may have been monsters, but they were still underage. There was no proof in the photo that he had done it, of course. There couldn’t be. But again, with the others…

Joshua had broken in a cold sweat. He had no clue how to process this situation. Jordan was blackmailing him. Had to be, what other explanation could there be for a situation like this? All he could do was wait, wait for more images. For more evidence of his misdeeds.
More images followed. Joshua in a crowded bus, leaning in to smell the hair of a meek-looking Holstaurus with a pregnant belly, the picture quite obviously taken with a phone camera from a position where he was absolutely certain he’d have seen Jordan. Another one of him picking the lock to the school, another with him going in, proving that he had indeed broken in. A photo of him leaving The Club with an Ogre who was wearing all leather and holding him in a headlock. At least it didn’t show him paying the cash for that treatment.

Then there was silence for a while, no new e-mails. Joshua stewed in his fear and anxiety. Some of this stuff would ruin his reputation, but some of it would send him to prison. All together it would ruin him completely and irrecoverably. He had for a long time planned on obtaining similar materials of his… colleagues. He hadn’t been that deep into it though. Surely not. He’d sold some things, bought some things, sure, but… hey, it was all just good fun. They weren’t bad people. Well, THEY were, but he wasn’t. He was just curious, and there was nothing wrong with being curious. He wasn’t, it’s not like he’d ever, that’s just…
A new e-mail. This time it showed him going in and coming out of an establishment specializing in various substances both aphrodisiac and sedative. Again nothing illicit on it its own, but another piece of the puzzle, certainly. Another nail in his coffin. It couldn’t be said that he was GOING to use whatever he’d bought for anything… unseemly. Of course he hadn’t intended to, he just… got it for a friend. Yeah. It’s not like you could tell WHAT he’d bought there anyway, but still.
Then they came, the images of him in the bushes, in the park. Taking pictures of girls jogging by. Girls in spats, girls in sweat-soaked tank-tops, girls with matter and salty hair and tails and some, yes, some girls who were rather young. All monsters, of course. But still young.
There were many images of him in the bushes. Pictures taken of him in all of his stake-out spots, where he’d felt so safe and well hidden. Pictures where it became clearer and clearer he was focused on the same few girls. Watching for patterns. Seeing when they might be alone. For… for weeks. There were time-stamps on the images. You could see the phases of the moon. It was not something he could dispute in a court of law.

The e-mails stopped again, and for quite some time. Joshua stewed in his misery and despair. Even if he began to get rid of any physical evidence in his possession, he couldn’t be rid of these. And they were enough, by God they were enough. He was well aware of what happened to people like him in prisons. There would be a mix-up and he’d end up on the women’s side. In the side with all the Monsters. And they wouldn’t care who he was or what he’d done. It would all be filmed too, they didn’t care if they were seen in that kind of circumstances. He’d be famous. Oh, he’d be famous. He knew many men who had suffered the same fate. He’d jerked off to their fates. Sometimes live.

What was Jordan after? Money? Couldn’t be it, Jordan had rich parents, rich grandparents, rich uncles and aunts, rich brothers and sisters, rich cousins… he’d been born with a goddamn platinum ladle up his ass! This wasn’t blackmail; this was… a practical joke? But it couldn’t be a practical joke, not with all that effort. There was material here from way before Jordan had gone off the grid, so it had to have been planned ahead for quite some time. But why? What could he POSSIBLY have been doing?
It wasn’t an impossible thought that Jordan kept tabs on all of his associates the same way, of course. It was sensible when you were in as deep as Jordan most certainly was. With the kind of resources he had, it wouldn’t even be hard. Yes, that part made sense. So what was HIS role in all this?

The new message had no file attached. It was worse than that.

“There’s more. You know what you’ve done. So do I. Nobody else needs to. You still have plenty of things you shouldn’t have. Put them in a duffel bag and come to the park at 5:15 PM. I don’t want money. You’ll be picked up.”

And that was it. Joshua looked at the clock. He had two hours. Okay. He could… of fuck. What the hell was all that about not wanting money? Fuck. FUCK!

Joshua turned off his computer and took a cold shower. He hoped it would clear his head and make him not scared. No luck there. All it did was make him shiver more. He threw up out of nervousness and had to brush his teeth. After that he began to pick out his… illicit items from their hideouts. It might not have been too smart to keep all his stuff in his house, but nobody would ever have come search him. He wasn’t involved that deep with anything. He couldn’t be on any police watch-list. He was just dabbling. Nobody had been interested in him except Jordan, for whatever reason. The duffel bag was soon filled with drugs, spider-produced bondage rope, flash drives with his, ahem, personal photos, and the underoos he had obtained in order to sell them. He wrapped it all inside a plastic bag, somehow feeling more secure. If anyone opened his bag, they wouldn’t see what he had in it.
Mom always said to wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident and have to go to the hospital. Joshua had never understood this, but he still did so. Fresh socks, fresh underwear, fresh shirt. His outer layers were fairly near too. He slipped his cell phone and keys into a pocket and thought about whether or not to take his wallet. Better not. He put that in his drawer. Then he took out his cell, turned it off, and left it in there too. He didn’t want to be easily identified. The e-mail hadn’t specified he’d need it anyway. Yeah.

Joshua left. He walked slowly while leaving his apartment and actually went around his block in the opposite direction from the park in case someone he knew was watching. Someone other than his stalker, anyway. Couldn’t be Jordan himself, because he’d have recognized him. Tall guy like that with shoulder-length hair? No way could he just hide.
The walk wasn’t that long, so to make sure he didn’t end up in the park too soon Joshua took more than one detour. He walked slowly and tried to appear innocent, stealing glimpses around him in a nervous manner that made those attempts futile. He wondered what would happen if a cop stopped him and asked to see the contents of his bag. But why would that happen? Anonymous tip, of course. But no, that didn’t make sense. He was just being paranoid and scared. Oh boy.

The park, at last. He found his way to a bench and sat down. 16:48 was the time. He had almost half an hour to go. Twenty-five minutes to mull over all his troubles. Twenty-five minutes to think about what Jordan wanted and what would happen to him next. It was all just a big practical joke, right? That wasn’t completely out of the question. Jordan was rich, and rich people had their quirks. Maybe it was, and this new thought sent an entirely different, giddier shiver down Joshua’s spine, maybe this was a hazing ritual. Maybe Joshua was going to be initiated into a special, inner circle. A group that might have access to things a private citizen like him couldn’t just buy no matter how much money they threw around. Maybe his efforts, though they were nothing more than just the hobbies of a curious man dabbling in some harmless entertainment, had been noticed. Maybe the so-called Undead Mob wanted him. He’d never actually seen an Undead about town before. They didn’t partake in polite society around this town. Maybe they did in places like Monster Girl City, but not here, no sir. But they were here, alright. Hidden, hiding from plain sight. Rich beyond measure, maintaining a society of their own, which catered to the needs of the living world’s chosen few. The real criminal Underworld.
He swallowed. That was a romantic idea. But could he really be invited into such a group? How could he? He’d hardly done anything worth doing. All he’d done was dabble harmlessly. It was all just taken out of context. Jordan was just messing with him. Showing him who was boss. Naturally Jordan was the boss; he was the rich one, the one with all the connections. They’d just ended up being schoolmates way back because, because… now that he thought about Joshua really couldn’t think of a reason. Maybe it was because Jordan had been the ringleader of the local perverted boys interested in something more than just the pussy of human women, and Joshua had even then been very much interested.
Nobody else in their old gang had known what Jordan had been up to during the last two weeks. But it could always be that they’d been lying. Maybe they were all in on this. They had come together to get all this material of him to, to do what? He wasn’t particularly hated. He had no enemies. He was absolutely certain his friends didn’t have what it took to pull something like this off anyway; they’d have shown some signs when he’d asked about Jordan, by the latest. And he’d have noticed them following him. No, someone else, an outsider, someone he didn’t know had done the stalking. Someone good, because he had always been very, very careful, especially during his more, hmm, risky engagements. Maybe the Ogre he’d met had been a bit of a distraction from his usual manner, but other than that…

Thoughts of his eventual fate had died down as he’d been thinking more and more about what could possibly be the REASON behind his current misfortune. So lost in these ponderings was he that he failed to notice the stranger until he was sitting next to him and staring at him from behind a pair of cheap sunglasses. He was wearing a cheap, scruffy suit and the way he put his arms on the backrest of the bench gave him the air of someone posing as a tough-guy. He had greasy hair and a greasy, thin beard. A real scumbag, any cop could spot him as the culprit to anything from a mile away. Reminded Joshua of Steve Buscemi’s character in Rising Sun.
“You Joe?” the stranger asked, his legs spread ridiculously wide. He was lanky, with bad posture. Joshua was absolutely positive he could kick this guy’s ass. He had half a mind to do so, too, getting called Joe. Joshua hated that nickname. It sounded so vulgar and low.
“Joshua” he said, hoping he sounded firm. He knew he didn’t.
“Whatever, you got the stuff?” the stranger asked, flashing a grin of crooked teeth and one gold-tooth. Joshua would’ve wagered it wasn’t even real gold. This poser was getting on his nerves. He was kind of big though, length-wise. Had more reach.
“Well?”
Heh. The guy was jumpy and nervous. Play it cool, man. Play it cool. You’re the man. This guy is a punk.
He lifted his bag and shook it a little, then lowered it again.
“That a yes or a no?” the stranger snapped.
“It is what it is” Joshua replied, hoping he sounded more convincing and in-control this time. He probably sounded like he was mentally disabled.
“Alright, I’m just about done with you, you gonna fuck with me tough guy? I use to run with the Pink Cocks, you hear me? I’m this close” he used his forefinger and thumb to show the length of his dick, “to being a member of the Ars Morendi, you really want to fuck with me, huh?”
The Ars Morendi? So Jordan really WAS involved with the Undead mob. Joshua didn’t know whether he should be worried or relieved. If this guy was working for or with Jordan and was being initiated into the mob, then didn’t that support the idea that so was HE? Better act the part.
“Noli Timere Messorem” Joshua said, fumbling over the Latin.
The prospective mobster looked at him with a raised eyebrow and enlarged nostrils. His face was especially punchable right about then.
“Huh? The hell are you babbling?”
Joshua raised an eyebrow in return and mimicked the flickering nostrils.
“Come on baby don’t fear the reaper” he said, half whispering it, not quite turning it into a hum.
“Yeah? You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Well I fucking know what you are, and I’ve got you by the balls, got it?”
Joshua shrugged. This guy wasn’t who he was scared of. He was just a lackey. It was Jordan, and possibly Jordan’s bosses, that he would need to concern himself with. This guy wasn’t even a mobster yet. Joshua could afford to jerk him around all he wanted. This boosted his confidence quite a bit.
“So are we going somewhere?” he asked.
The man spat on the ground.
“We’re going nowhere unless you got the goods” he said.
“Which I do” said Joshua, standing up. With snivelling rats like this you had to take charge. “So we going or what?”
The goon stuck his hands in his pockets and grimaced at him.
“What makes yo think we’s going nowheres?” he asked. Joshua smiled, he was trying to talk like a black man now? This guy was a total doofus.
“Because your boss told me I’d be picked up. So you taking me to Jordan or what?” he asked.
The man spat again, and then looked at his watch. It was cheap, just like everything else about him. A real discount goon-for-hire who thought he was too big for his breeches.
“Whatever” he mumbled, got up and rushed off. Joshua followed at a leisurely pace, feeling quite in control of the situation. Fear of the unknown is one thing, but now he wasn’t faced with some nebulous threat, he was facing a piece of shit who was probably even more nervous that he was. When he thought about it, the goon probably had more to lose than he did. Sure they were blackmailing him, maybe, but that meant he had something these people wanted, maybe. And this goon had to make sure they got it. The goon fucks up, he doesn’t get in the group. Whereas if Joshua fucked up, the mob would still give him a chance to give whatever it is they wanted in return for not releasing those pictures. When you thought about it like that, it made him feel much safer. Though there was always the possibility, the oh-so-wonderful possibility, that he wasn’t being blackmailed at all, merely tested. And if this was a test, well, that meant HE would ace it, and he sure as hell wasn’t letting this goon do the same.
His imagination was getting the better of him.

They reached the goon’s car. It was a Honda. The less said of the condition it was in the better. The inside smelled like cigarettes and the floor was sticky with the remains of many a burger meal.
Joshua seated himself in the back with his duffel bag as the goon drove. They passed in relative silence, the radio playing some kind of Apsara-Gandhavara mix tape.
They stopped at an alley off the main road.
“Okay, show me the goods” the goon said, turning to face him. His seat belt wasn’t on. What an asshole.
Joshua shrugged, opened his bag and pulled the plastic bag out. He handed it over and the goon inspected the goods in a hurry, not even bothering to take them out. He probably missed most of what was in there like that.
“Okay” he said, as if satisfied with his thorough search. “Just between us, I think you’re a sick fuck” he said, grinning so all his teeth showed. The grin was not impressive and obviously strained his cheeks and lips.
“Big talk from a guy who used to be in a gang named after dicks” Joshua replied. Of course Pink Cocks was named after birds and not penises, but the taunt was old and proven. It worked this time too, causing the goon to bite his lip. His ears reddened. He’d obviously been instructed not to lay a hand on Joshua, which made taunting him all the more fun.
“Alright, gotta call the… yeah…” the goon mumbled and dug his cell out. “Picked out the number, you call and let them know you’re here. They’ll know it’s my number so we can get a move on”.
The goon was missing his left pinkie and ring finger. It made him seem somehow more mafia-esque. Joshua ended up staring at those stubs and the scar tissue rather than the screen of the phone. One finger had probably been lost leaving the Pink Cocks, but what had happened to the other? Had he been kicked out of somewhere else, too?
“Just call already, punk” the man said.
“Right…”
Joshua dialled, expecting to hear Jordan’s voice. He didn’t remember the number by heart but it looked familiar.
“Speak” said the voice of a woman. Jordan had someone over?
“Uhh, it’s, uhh, Joshua. Is, is Jordan there?” he blurted, feeling the rush of nervousness overcome him again. For all he knew the woman at the other end was a member of the Ars Morendi.
“Sure is” the woman said and giggled.
“Can I, can I talk to him?”
There was another bout of giggling.
“Look, this is really important”
“Oh I’m suuure it is, Joe”
That name again. He hated it.
“Joshua” he said. He couldn’t let them walk all over him.
“I’m going to call you whatever I feel like, Joey-Joe-Joe. How’s things? Melvin treating you alright?”
Melvin? A terrible, lame name for a terrible, lame man.
“He’s annoying me with his very presence” Joshua hardballed it. He was rewarded by that delightful giggle again. This girl sounded like a real cutie.
“Oh I’m sure he does. All he has to do now is bring you over here and then we’ll never have to look at his ugly mug again, so you be a good boy and hurry on over”
“Where to?”
“You know where, Joe”
“Jordan’s house?”
“Looking forward to it”
The line went dead and Melvin the goon snatched his phone back, red in the face. He lit a cigarette and refused to put it out, so Joshua opened a window. The journey passed in an awkward silence, which he spent looking out the window. This wasn’t so bad. Jordan obviously had someone from the Ars Morendi over, and by the sound of her probably a Wight. A top ranker, by God. And that wouldn’t make sense if this was just some silly little blackmail operation. No, they wanted him, not what he had. They wanted him in the inner circle. Or one of the circles, a one deeper in that whatever Melvin was on, at any rate. This was turning out fine. He was going to be fine. Better than fine even, he’d have access to something real special.

They arrived at the fancy neighbourhood Jordan lived in. The fancy gate to the fancy house opened automatically as they opened, recognizing them through some hidden camera. The house had two storeys on the ground, plus the attic, and from what Joshua could remember there was not just a basement but a sub-basement as well. It was a fucking mansion, and Jordan got it for his 16th birthday.
Melvin pulled over and told him to get out. Joshua stepped out and reached for his bag, but the goon snatched it away.
“My bonus” he said.
Joshua shrugged. He had little to worry about now, did he?
He stood by and watched as the car back out down the driveway and drove off, the gate shutting automatically behind it. For the briefest moment he had thought to run out of that closing gap and just trying to make it out of this whole situation on his feet, but that was stupid and he knew it. The gate shut with a finality that made his heart sink, but only a little. Nervousness. Stage-fright.

The fence surrounding the property was too high for him to get over, no way to climb those metal bars or deal with the spikes on top, no way to squeeze through. He was trapped. But that didn’t matter. He wasn’t some victim. He was going to be fine. Just fine.
This place had always seemed so cool when he’d seen it before, and he’d come here for more than a few parties. They had been nothing too special, or so Jordan had said, just a little Fairy Dust and some Wood Elves on strip poles. They had been amazing to Joshua though. Amazing for most people anyway, maybe someone rich and connected didn’t think of it as anything more than just another time-killer. In any case, the household seemed even more impressive now that he stood here on his own, thinking of the possibilities of the future. He might end up having a place like this for himself soon.
Joshua climbed up to the house, up the veranda, and found the front-door unlocked. He entered.

			***

The house was not really decorated in an opulent manner. There were soft rugs you could really dig your toes in here – leaving your shoes at the door was only natural in a place like this – and the walls had warm blues – if such a thing exists – for wallpaper. No paintings or chandeliers to be seen though. Every window had shades kept open, with plants basking in light at all of them. Jordan said it kept the air fresher.
Joshua was uncertain as to the direction he should take now. Jordan’s bedroom, the one he used, was on the second floor. Somewhere up there, but Joshua had never been up there. The only places he really knew were the living room, that was on this floor, where they’d gathered to watch movies and drink and eat popcorn, and the basement room with the poles and the red lights and the very, very comfy beanbag chairs. He smiled, remembering the good times had down there.
“Hello?” he called out, but not too loud. He wasn’t actually shouting. He didn’t really want to. There was no response. Shrugging, he walked to the living room, where he was greeted by a sight that made him wish he’d brought his camera.

Spread out on the floor was a rubber mat, and on that mat was a woman on her belly, arching her back, craning her neck back and kissing her other foot, which was stretched out to form a closed circle with her head. This contortionist appeared at first sight to simply be a human in spats and a sports-bra, her hair tied up in a pony tail and her back and calves glistening with sweat. She hadn’t noticed Joshua’s presence because of a pair of headphones.  Joshua crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to another. Should he say something? He didn’t know this woman, but he would most certainly like to. Her strained muscles highlighted the back, the shoulders, the buttocks, and it was all… very nice. Here was a woman who could rough a man up. Heh, and the more Joshua looked, the more apparent it became she wasn’t a human at all. There was a healthy coating of shiny sweat on her smooth, brown skin, but looking at her face he could tell she was Undead. The mouth stretched a bit too wide; sharp teeth were visible from her between her panting lips, the eyes had a dangerous glow and there was in all likelihood a dangerously nimble tongue hidden somewhere in there, too. In other words, she was a Ghoul.
This new revelation led Joshua to think of things in a new light. Was this the girl who had answered Jordan’s phone? She was probably the mastermind of all this, then… oh she was looking at him. Her back arched further and her head was now upside down, looking at him. She licked her lips with a tongue too long for a human mouth and winked at him.
Joshua felt weak at the knees. He’d never MET an Undead before. This was a rare opportunity, and quite possibly a dangerous one too.
He stepped closer, lifting his hand in a greeting and trying to smile confidently. The Ghoul kept arching her back, plopped her hands on the ground and stood right up on her hands, then jumped in the air a bit, twirled around and landed deftly on her feet without a noise, never once breaking eye-contact with him. She shut down her walkman and took off her headphones. One hand rested on her hip, the other traced her belly, her chest, her neck and disappeared in her hair as she tilted her head and looked him up and down.
“Uh, hi” Joshua said.
“You’re Joe” she said.
“Joshua” he corrected.
Her eyes flashed and her grin widened to an uncomfortable width. There was saliva dripping from between her row of fangs.
“I don’t like being called Joe” he hastened to add.
“That a fact” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“So, uhh…”
“Where’s your stuff?” she asked, still not breaking eye contact. Joshua was beginning to notice she wasn’t blinking.
“My stuff?”
“The stuff you were told to bring with you”
“Oh, but that guy, uhh, Melvin? He said it was his, uhh, bonus?” Joshua fumbled over his words, realizing he’d been fucked over, potentially badly.
“Oh, he said that, did he” the Ghoul said in a husky whisper.
“Yeah”
“Too bad for him” she said and slipped out a phone from her pocket. She only spent a few seconds with it, so Joshua assumed she had a message already typed and she was merely sending it.
“He’s going to regret that” she said, putting her phone away.
“But, uhh, we’re cool, right?” he tried.
“Not like we needed that shit, Jordan just wanted to make sure you got clean” the Ghoul said, shrugging and sliding closer to him. It’s like there was no friction between her soles and the carpet.
It would appear that the matter was closed as far as his… items were concerned, so what now?
“So what now?” he asked, backing up and finding his back against a wall. The Ghoul stood in front of him now, the scent of a woman’s sweat filling his nostrils, her unblinking eyes staring deep into his, her tongue lapping up errant streams of drool from the side of her mouth… his pants felt tight now, all too tight now, hope she didn’t notice…
The Ghoul grabbed him by the crotch in a sudden movement that made him jump. Any hope of appearing cool and collected had been crushed.
“Oh you’ll find out. Let’s go”
Without letting go of his private parts she caught his forearm with her free hand and twisted it behind his back, then made him walk in front of her. Joshua was scared, but too aroused to worry much. This was all part of the hazing. Surely he would be brought into a room with candles and there would be weird chanting and then he’d be initiated into the mob. Or something like that would happen anyway.
They came to the stairs leading into the basement, and walked down. The lights were on so he didn’t have trouble with the stairs even in this uncomfortable position where the Ghoul was pressing her breasts against his back and breathing on his neck. Her breath wasn’t as warm as he’d expected it to be. Well of course it wasn’t, she was Undead. Her body temperature was already dropping now that she wasn’t working out.

In silence the two of them passed the laundry room and the little strip-joint, heading to the discreet doorway to the sub-basement that Joshua knew nothing about. Once at the door they stopped.
“Gonna give you a chance to back out” she said.
“Back out?”
“Yeah. We go in there; you’re not coming out until WE say so. Last chance”
What kind of choice was this even supposed to be? If he backed out now, they’d just use their blackmailing materials to fuck him up. He wasn’t going to go through with that, no sir.
“I’m going in” he said.
“Hrrh… now that’s what I like to hear” the Ghoul said, licking his cheek and giving his earlobe a little nibble. She let go of his crotch and opened the door, pushing him into a much darker staircase. Joshua managed to get down without fumbling and eventually found himself in a space with a few doors. It was gloomy, but he could tell there were three doors.
“On your right” said the Ghoul, and he headed for the door on his right. It opened, and he entered a completely dark room. She let go of his arm and then he heard the door shut behind him with a click.
“Hey!”
He turned around and found no handle on this side. He tried to push but the door had opened to this side, he wasn’t getting anything done.
A light was turned on, apparently one with a dimming-switch. The room was gloomy now rather than completely dark. One wall was just a mirror, the other had… huh. Well this was a sex dungeon, wasn’t it?

The wall had various rings embedded into it at various heights and widths, which he from experience knew allowed for some very creative bondage. There was a mattress in one corner, there was a table with several straps attached to the top and to the legs, and there was a basket… a basket?
“Undress and put your clothes into the basket” a voice boomed from a speaker somewhere. The sounds wasn’t especially loud but filled the room completely.
“Put on what’s in it” the voice added. It was a female voice. The Ghoul again… though it must’ve been distorted. Just like on the phone, the voices weren’t the same.
Well he had no real choice now, did he? Joshua walked over to the basket, discovered it contained a pink bathrobe, and laughed at the silliness of it. He then began to undress. Slowly and hesitantly, really. Hoping he wouldn’t give whoever was watching – and that mirror was definitely not opaque on the other side – too good of a show.
“Bring the basket to the door” the voice commanded, and he did. A hatch in the lower half of the door, something he’d missed before, opened up and the Ghoul’s hands snatched the basket away. The hatch shut.

Joshua walked over to the table and sat on it. He didn’t like standing around on the bare floor with his bare feet. Not that it was particularly cold, but still.
He explored the room some more and discovered lots of chains and things on the ceiling as well, with rails for them to move along on, too. Looking at the mirror-wall he could see most of it was one solid piece, but one part of it was separate. His eyes spied out a rail on which it could be slid to one side or another if it was pushed into the room somehow, which it now was, with an electronic hiss. The room behind the mirror was obviously some kind of control room, then. He caught a glimpse of bright lights and that’s about it, his sight was focused on the silhouette that entered the room he was in, and the mirror slipped back in place before he had time to take much in.

The Ghoul was not the person who entered the room. Rather, this was someone taller. Whoever it was, she was pushing a trolley ahead of her. Well, Joshua thought of it was a trolley, but it resembled more a box on wheels, like something you’d move band equipment in. The woman handling it had long, wavy hair, quite similar to what Jordan’s style had been, but this woman had horns growing out of it, a tail playing in the air and wings growing out of her back. She wore boots that reached all the way up to her thighs, with heels and soles covered in metal to make a very impressive clanking noise with every step, her torso bare at the front and most likely at the back, the leather covering only her sides, her crotch, her chest and her shoulders. A pair of gloves reaching up to her biceps completed the set.
She set the brakes on her trolley and looked at Joshua with hands on her hips. She was thin and toned, but not particularly voluptuous. She must’ve been an A-cup at best. This did nothing to diminish her aura though, here was quite clearly someone accustomed to taking charge of her helpless victims.
“Is that any way to greet your queen, Joe?” she asked, her voice quite familiar indeed. Here was the woman he’d spoken to on the phone and who had given him his instructions on the speakers! But she was no Undead, more like a Succubus.
“My name’s Joshua” he said, defiantly.
The woman stomped on the floor with one foot and threw her neck back.
“Rebellious, are we? Forgetting our place? Hm?”
Her tone was somehow… familiar. It reminded Joshua of the times when Jordan had ordered some of those Elf strippers to spank each other and they’d talked back. Good times.
“Lady, I don’t know who you are but I think you’ve got the wrong guy” he said, some insanity taking over his mind. Like Hell was the Ars Morendi intimidating him what a goddamned dominatrix!
“You’re kind of slow, aren’t you? Wake up, Joe! You’re locked in an underground sex-dungeon by people blackmailing you! Don’t you think now would be the right time grovel? I’m only offering you this one last chance to submit willingly” she said.
“Don’t. Call me. Joe” Joshua said, standing up and balling his fists.
The woman’s eyes flared up, quite literally. They burned a bright red in the gloomy room, and all of a sudden she was standing right in front of him, and…
“Kneel, worm” she hissed. Joshua did. His fists were still balled up, but he kneeled.
“You’re going to wish you’d been a good boy, Joe” she said, wrapping her tail around his neck and rubbing the tip on his face.
“I’m going to rape you so bad” she whispered.