“I don’t see why we had to park so far away. It’s not like we’re robbing the place.” Mia hugged herself as she slogged through wet leaves.
Syria peered down the street, looking for any signs of life. Neither of them had dressed properly for the cold, which had come on suddenly that afternoon. “We should have reconsidered our outfits,” she said.
Mia’s stiletto boots teetered on the uneven pavement. “Stupid, stupid. We don’t even know what they’re going to do to us.” Her teeth chattered, and Syria wondered if she was nervous too. She was the one getting tied up in front of strangers. Syria was just the moral support.
“You don’t have to do it, you know. We can go back to the car and forget the whole thing. It’s not like we’ll run into Madam at the grocery.” Syria had been thinking ahead herself, wondering how warm the warehouse could possibly be, and if they would keep Mia naked. She was glad she was only a silent spectator.
And a sneaky one. Madam had told her not to photograph anything, but Syria couldn’t bear it. She was a photographer! This was way too amazing of an opportunity to pass up, so she’d modified her bag to allow her lens to peek out. She set the focus to manual and would have to hope things were in range. With the low light and a bit of distance between her and the bondage suspensions, she might get nothing, but she had to try. The camera was in silent mode, no beeps or clicks. She’d get away with it. No one would be paying any attention to her.#p#分页标题#e#
The wind whipped right up her short skirt and chilled her thighs. She’d worn proper panties today, no g-string, but under the cute leather jacket she only had on a sheer white halter, tied behind her neck and so thin as to be almost invisible. Mia’s idea, in hopes that Syria would interest another of the bondage experts to tie her up too.
Syria wasn’t sure about that, but wearing something so bare out in public had sent such a hard-core thrill through her, she’d had to do it. Mia snapped an image of her to send to her boyfriend Tyson up in Seattle, although he was working a gig and hadn’t responded yet.
Mia at least had a proper jacket. Her legs were bare too, but under her trench coat she wore spandex boy shorts and a tight fuzzy sweater. Unlike Syria, she’d put on a bra in case they would let her keep on underwear. Not that she was shy, obviously, having done a pirate sex show for years. But even her experience couldn’t keep her hands from shaking as she tied her belt back at Syria’s house. They were both out of their element.
The warehouse loomed in front of them, three stories and larger than any of the other small metal buildings that lined the street. No cars had passed during their walk and the street lights were dim. The whole atmosphere felt like a movie, two young girls entering to their doom. Syria’s belly quivered, imagining the doors opening wide and both of them getting swept into a room to be stripped, tortured, and kept prisoner.
“That looks like the door.” Mia pointed to a small back entry, painted red, the only bit of color in the dreary metal and concrete. They turned off the street and headed for it. As they approached, another tiny figure arrived from the opposite street, huddling in a blue pea coat. As they all arrived at the door, Syria saw she was Asian, her black hair twisted in a tight bun, her face painted white with red lips and heavily lined eyes, like a traditional Geisha.
“It’s our first time,” Mia said to her.
The girl shook her head and brought her finger to her lips.
“What, we can’t talk?” Mia asked.
The girl shook her head again, then whispered, “We are submissives. This is our door. Do not speak upon entering.”
“I’m just a spectator,” Syria said, but fell silent at the glare from the kohl-lined eyes, surprised at the strength coming from someone so tiny.
The presence of another girl, one who had clearly done this before and lived to tell about it, and even come back for more, soothed Syria’s nerves. It would be like the video she’d seen, she guessed, lots of ropes and strung-up girls and men sitting around. Nothing to fear.
The heat that washed over them when the door opened was another relief. Mia glanced back at Syria and smiled. “This is going to rock!”
The other girl shook her head, rushing forward, probably to distance herself from the noncompliant submissive. The whole silent domination was a lot of rot. They were just people. So what if some of the people tied up the others?
They walked down a dimly lit corridor, metal doors at regular intervals all tightly shut. Syria pushed a little faster, trying to follow the tiny figure ahead of them. Madam had not given them any instruction beyond entering the red door.