Unherd (The Unpublished Edition)

Chapter 4

There was still one more question Barnaby needed to ask Dallas:

[Is it okay if Gil and I go to the dungeon tonight?]

Dallas responded:

[Come anytime.]

And so added another interesting search into Barnaby's internet history: What should you wear to a sex dungeon?

Since he wasn't quite confident enough to wear lingerie in public, it seemed his next best bet was to "dress to impress". For Barnaby, that meant slacks and a white button-up that already had its original buttons replaced, thanks to Gil's enthusiasm.

It was a snug fit, and he worried, fleetingly, the buttons would pop again if he made the wrong move. He'd spill out of the shirt, exposing himself, and Gil's hands, undoubtedly, would be on him in seconds-

With the sink still running, Barnaby splashed cold water on his face.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing, after all.

And just in case, he was prepared - already adjusting to the stretch of the buttplug inside of him.

He stumbled out of the water closet to find Gil at the edge of their bed, sporting a black blazer and double-knotting his combat boots. His hair had been slicked back, and his skin-tight pants left little to the imagination once he got to his feet. "My eyes are up here," he quipped.

Barnaby gulped, instantly meeting his gaze. "S-Sorry."

Gil was no better off, softly biting his lip while scanning him from head to toe. He closed the distance between them, cupped Barnaby's cheek, and lightly scratched behind his ear.

Barnaby melted to the touch.

"Good boy."

If he was grinning too wide or too stupidly, so be it- "Thank you, Master."

Reaching into his pocket, Gil presented Barnaby's collar. "Should I put this on you?"

Barnaby looked up, practically begging him, "Please?"

He lifted his chin, and the collar was fastened comfortably around his neck. A mark of ownership.

Before stepping away, Gil examined the tag. "We should probably get the address changed soon."

"To what?"

"Ideally, our first apartment, but..."

But neither of them knew when that would happen.

Taking Gil's hand, Barnaby placed it over his heart. "I don't mind waiting. Besides, whenever we do change it, I'm still going to keep this one. It means a lot to me."

Gil brightened, kissing his forehead. "Alright. As long as you don't forget who you belong to."

There was no way he could ever forget that.

Arm in arm, they left the shed and made their way to Gil's car.

Barnaby knew exactly who he belonged to, and he wouldn't hesitate letting everyone else at the sex dungeon know it, too.

~~~

They remembered to knock once they reached the second door to the cellar.

The bald, tattooed bouncer greeted them once again, still quite stern. "ID?" he grunted.

Gil and Barnaby quickly presented theirs, and after a careful inspection, they were allowed inside.

Instead of a medieval torture chamber, Barnaby found himself walking into, what appeared to be, a 1920's speakeasy. The walls were made up of beautiful red bricks, with accents of brown wallpaper here and there; the floors were neatly polished hardwood, gleaming under elegant, red velvet sofas and chairs.