Fifty shades of Kim

Chapter twenty

A/n: 6.09k

The first thing I notice is the smell; leather, wood, polish with a faint citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle.

The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark burgundy, giving a womb-like effect to the spacious room, and the floor is old, old varnished wood.

There is a large wooden cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door. It's made of high-polished mahogany, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner.

Above it is an expansive iron grid suspended from the ceiling, eight-foot square at least, and from it hang all manner of ropes, chains, and glinting shackles.

By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.

Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold.

Do I want to know? In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench, and fixed to the wall beside it is a wooden, polished rack that looks like a pool or billiard cue holder, but on closer inspection, it holds canes of varying lengths and widths. There's a soul six-fool-long table in the opposite corner - polished wood with intricately carved legs and two matching stools underneath.

But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger than king sized, an ornately carved rococo four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century Under the canopy. I can see more gleaming chains and cuffs. There is no bedding just a mattress covered in red leather and red salin cushions piled at one end.

At the foot of the bed, set apart a few feet, is a large oxblood chesterfield couch, just stuck in the middle of the room facing the bed. An odd arrangement to have a couch facing the bed, and I smile to myself - I've picked on the couch as odd, when really it's the most mundane piece of furniture in the room.

I glance up and stare at the ceiling. There are carabiners all over the ceiling at odd intervals. I vaguely wonder what they're for. Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic. I know it's anything but this is Taehyung's version of soft and romantic.

I turn, and he's regarding me intently, as I knew he would be, his expression completely unreadable. I walk farther into the room, and he follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued. I touch it hesitantly. It's suede, like a small cat-o'-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small plastic beads on the end.

"It's called a flogger." Taehyung's voice is quiet and soft.

A flogger.

Hmm.

I think I'm in shock. My subconscious has emigrated or been struck dumb or simply keeled over and expired. I am numb. I can observe and absorb but not articulate my feelings about all this, because I'm in shock. What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a complete freaky sadist or masochist? Fear. yes that seems to be the overriding feeling. I recognize it now. But weirdly not of him I don't think he'd hurt me, well, not without my consent So many questions cloud my mind. Why? How? When? How often? Who?

I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the intricately carved posts. The post is very sturdy, outstanding.

"Say something." Taehyung commands, his voice deceptively soft.

"Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?"

His mouth quirks up, either amused or relieved.

"People?" He blinks a couple of times as he considers his answer. "I do this to the persons who want me to."