Chuck considered himself an experienced guy. Since getting a good job, he’d enjoyed lap dances and an occasional furtive hand job at various topless bars, couch dances (self-service, look but don’t touch) and table massages at grimy strip center storefronts. He wasn’t ignorant of the other services available in town, but he lacked the desire to go looking on the street, much less invite a stranger into his house. Besides, there was something about hitting a $100 price point that let his brain override his gonads.

While searching through the strip club ads, he noticed a new ad in the tabloid he read on his lunch hour.

“Enjoy our new Domination Dungeon with Mistress Peril, first week only $50”. He had some spare twenties in his wallet from the monthly poker game, and the price didn’t sound outrageous for a specialized service. He checked the address -- good, it was far enough from his usual haunts that it was unlikely anyone would recognize his car.

Experience aside, he still got a nervous flutter in his stomach when he walked through the door, waiting in the small welcoming area for the attendant to come out and give him a once-over. The woman was blonde and bored, chewing gum as she pulled out a clipboard and rattled off a practiced speech with no perceptible pause for breath.

“You been here before? Okay then, thirty dollars for a half hour, sixty for a full hour, no funny business, we got Esperanza tonight, she’s a redhead from Chile, and we got Victoria who’s a knockout blonde, chill for a few minutes and I’ll bring them out.”

Chuck finally got a word in edgewise before the blonde vanished through the side door. “What about Mistress Peril?”

“Mistress ... Oh, you mean Penny. Hold on.”

The blonde returned to her desk and pressed a button, and a short olive-skinned brunette came out and stood with arms folded over her chest, giving him a long, appraising look that unsettled him. It was usually Chuck’s privilege as the customer to pick and choose from the ‘dancers’ on staff. He got the distinct impression that whatever this girl was looking for, she didn’t think he had much of it. Finally, she nodded to the blonde with a curt “Okay” and returned to the back.

The receptionist now pulled out a different clipboard and handed it to Chuck, reciting a different speech with the same lack of inflection or pause as before. “Fifty for the half hour special, show me your driver’s license, and please sign here that you have no physical, mental, or medical issues that could cause a danger to you or anyone else absolving us of any legal liability and thank you.”

Chuck skimmed the legal disclaimers, most of which he’d seen often enough to recite himself, and signed the clipboard. He opened his wallet and handed over two twenties, a ten, and his license. The blonde checked his license against the clipboard, stashed the money underneath her counter and handed his license back as she pressed a buzzer. Within seconds, a door on his right opened.

“Okay, go through there, take a shower, don’t put any clothes on afterward, just go through the back hall to the dungeon room and wait.”

That was certainly different. Chuck had never been to a modeling studio or massage parlor where they wanted him to shower before the action. Perhaps that was part of the dungeon routine, he thought. It could just as easily mean that this girl Penny had a cleanliness fetish. No, he reminded himself, she called herself Mistress Peril.

The door opened to a narrow hallway, with a closed door on the left and an open door on the right. The open door showed a clean bathroom and shower facility with a wicker basket labeled “clothing”. On the vanity were washcloths, bath towels, a loofah, and a number of different types of body washes and shampoos, as well as a brand-new toothbrush, toothpaste and dental floss. Chuck shook his head. There was nothing remotely normal about any of this. He stripped down, adjusted the shower to a temperature he liked, and got in with a washcloth and one of the body washes. He definitely wanted nothing to do with a loofah that other people had used.

He showered, scrubbing all the usual places, and washed his hair quickly since he figured this was coming out of his paid time. After a quick brush of his teeth, he dried off thoroughly and placed all of his clothes and things into the wicker basket. He then opened the door to check the hall and walked out naked to the end where the door bore the legend “Peril Awaits”.

Chuck grunted. This looked more and more like a waste of his lunch break. As he opened the door, he stepped into a large, poorly lit room, sparsely furnished and quite chilly bringing goosebumps to his bare skin. The ceiling appeared to be plain acoustical tiles, and some kind of Eastern European music was playing through hidden speakers, strange harmonies led by an accordion. There was a wooden stool in the middle of the room, with a coffee table next to it. Bare feet slapping on the cold concrete floor, he put his basket on the coffee table then settled onto the uncomfortable stool.

The dungeon, or whatever it was supposed to be, was a gloomy place. In the dim light, the walls appeared almost blood-red. There were metal cabinets all along one wall, ending with a washbasin in that corner of the room. Occupying the center of the floor area was a long heavy wooden beam, with handcuffs attached at either end.

Curiosity got the better of Chuck and he got up to look more closely at the handcuffs. They appeared to be police-grade - he had reason to know the difference - and there were reddish-brown patches of what looked like rust on the metal. He sat back on the stool, scratching at his thigh.

Just then, the door opened and Penny appeared. At the reception desk Chuck had thought she was a Latina, but close up her face had more of an Asian cast to it. She wore only black glossy thigh-high boots and a narrow leather panty. Over that were a pair of dainty breasts with brown rubbery erasers for nipples. She was shorter than Chuck had first thought – probably under five feet tall if you discounted for the boot heels. She carried a short crop, a single tail whip and an attitude.

Mistress Peril glared at Chuck and viciously cracked the whip not three inches above his left ear! When he picked himself up from the floor, she was squatting over his chest screaming into his face.

“Who said that you could just sit down and make yourself comfortable? Get up so I can inspect you properly!”