Grace pumped her legs as fast as her five-inch hooker boots allowed. Nick clattered down the metal stairs behind her. The stairwell opened onto a hallway lined with four doors, all closed. She zeroed in on the door where the commotion was loudest.
Nick pressed his body against her back, reaching in front to nail the door shut with his fist. "Not so fast." He ran his thumb over her wrist, sending warm tingles shooting up her arm.
She turned her head, narrowed her eyes behind the mask. "But Auntie Beth—"
"We can't go barging in without checking, darlin'," he said, exuding so much patience she barely recognized him. "We don't want to attract attention, and we certainly don't want to walk in on a threesome."
His arm fell away. Grace swore he copped a feel on the way down. It felt so good, she didn't make an issue of it. On the contrary. She would have flung herself at him if Auntie Beth hadn't been raising hell in the dungeon.
He must have noticed her hesitation, because he said in a hoarse whisper, "Having second thoughts, darlin'?"
In more ways than one.
Jolted back to her senses, she cracked the door and peeked in. Kinki's dungeon was hopping. Rodeo Nite fans mobbed the platform. She bounced up and down, straining to catch a glimpse of her aunt in the crowd. "Do you see Auntie Beth?" she asked.
He gave her the tolerant smile that was beginning to irritate. "Can't be Beth you heard. She'd never get past the bouncer."
"You thought the same thing about me."
The irritating smile flicked off.
Pleased with her comeback, she clung to Nick's arm and let him lead the way. They pushed in far enough for a good view of the platform. His hand, large and warm, snaked around her waist. She leaned into him to watch a plump woman in a mini-dress strut her stuff onstage. The woman wore a Cher wig, black Goth lipstick, and a Mardi Gras mask sprouting a plume of ostrich feathers. Black latex strained under the pressure of abundant curves.
Grace's frontal lobe started to seize up like an engine without oil. All the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. The getup didn't look quite the same on Auntie Beth as it had in the window of Superdyke Fashions.
A muffled snort made Grace turn and glare at Nick. His mouth twitched. "Apparently, your aunt has a thing for rubber and feathers."
She studied the wide band of feathers fluttering around the hem at crotch level. "This is so not funny," she said, biting back the urge to snicker.
"Rubber is remarkably stretchy." His voice quivered.
She stared at the big kahunas of Auntie Beth's boobs as they battled the zipper in their bid for freedom. Her butt and rounded belly strained the skirt to a wafer-thin shell. The effect resembled a giant sausage about to burst its casing.
"I'd hate to be near when that zipper blows," Nick remarked.
"Oh, God," she moaned, hiding her face against his shoulder. "Kill me now."
A guitar riff captured everyone's attention. Auntie Beth kicked off the action by teetering from one side of the stage to the other on enormous platform soles. To the accompaniment of two electric guitars and a piano, she shook her ample booty and coiled a feather boa in time to the upbeat, while belting out a protest song.
When it was over she raised both arms in triumph. "This will be a changing day in your lives," she bellowed over the applause. "Tonight I'll teach you how to step into greatness."
Shrieks of approval caused the air to vibrate.
"Uh-oh," Grace said.
"I want all submissives to step forward," Auntie Beth shouted. When nothing happened, her voice sharpened. "Pony-people. Front and center. Chop-chop."
Beside Grace, a filly slipped her halter to move closer to the stage. Soon, half the people in the dungeon shuffled forward in response to the command.
Grace scowled as a pony-girl endowed with remarkable double-D's tried to squeeze past Nick. Then she relaxed. Those boobs could only belong to one person. She stuck out a hand to stop Silver. Introductions happened. Nick passed the test with flying colors by ignoring the bare boobs. They yakked until Auntie Beth yelled for silence.
Once the crowd quieted, her aunt beamed down. "Welcome to your journey from the shadow of domination into the light of empowerment."
Submissives eyed one another around their blinkers. Dominants, now relegated to the back and sides of the dungeon, frowned and muttered together.
Auntie Beth raised her voice to be heard. "Who amongst us has the right to walk away from self-esteem?" She paused. "Nobody. Each and every one of us has the responsibility, no, the obligation to assert ourselves."
"Good grief," Grace said over the crowd's buzz. "Auntie Beth is re-enacting a peace rally she attended in the Haight-Ashbury during the 60's."
As if to prove her point, Auntie Beth bellowed, "Do you want to end your pain and suffering?"
The buzz became a roar. "Hell no ... Are you insane? ... I adore pain."
Beside them, Silver turned to Grace, her eyes glittering with excitement. "I'm going to pretend I want peace. Watch what happens." She turned toward the stage and hollered, "You've got the right idea, lady. Let's end the pain."
Behind them, an alarmed howl rang out. "You don't mean that. You can't."
Grace turned and caught sight of Lash La Rue advancing on his pony-girl. His face was scarlet, his eyes wide with alarm. When he reached Silver, he grabbed her bridle, hauled her away at a fast clip.
Silver whinnied and flashed Grace a triumphant smirk over one shoulder.
Word spread like wildfire. Submissives were no slouches. They'd found a foolproof way to guarantee the punishment they craved, and they went for it. Of one accord, they raised their voices and yelled, "Too true ... Down with floggings ... Lose the lash ... No more pain sluts."
"I don't believe I'm hearing this," Grace muttered.
"Never a dull moment around Beth," Nick said.
Pony handlers, cowboys, biker dudes, and several ferocious-looking fem-dommes thundered past. Each wore a seriously pissed expression.
Onstage, Auntie Beth pumped a fist in the air. "By asserting ourselves, we overcome the oppression of bondage."
"No bondage ... No humiliation ... No spankings," submissives chanted between slaps.
Grace took a good look around, spoke to Nick in a sharp undertone. "Bad news. We're in a dungeon crammed with doms carrying horsewhips, slappers, and strap-ons. They'll turn my aunt into mincemeat. We have to stop her."
Nick's breath stirred her hair. "I'll make sure nothing bad happens," he said. "Hang onto my arm. Don't let go for any reason."
She did as she was told. His muscles bunched as he threw some weight into moving through. Something in his face must have signaled he wasn't a man to cross, because they made excellent time. Near the platform, they had an unimpeded view of Auntie Beth as she gestured and strutted.
Grace waved to catch her aunt's attention. "Auntie Beth, get down."
Auntie Beth merely flipped a peace sign and kept on talking about freedom. Her eyes took on the glazed expression of a crusader on a mission.
The crowd in front of the stage parted to reveal a six-and-a-half-foot cowboy dude wearing chaps, boots, and nipple clamps. He had a multi-strand flogger and a massive erection, assisted by a nasty-looking metal ring at the base of his penis. He bellied up to the stage.
"You don't know squat." he hollered. "Submissives want us doms to boss them around."
Auntie Beth drilled him with her gaze. "Why's that, dear?"
Cowboy Dude slapped his whip against his thigh. "Submissives get jazzed from being dominated. Dominants get a rush from pushing submissives around. It's a win-win." He whacked his whip again, and released a high-pitched whimper.
When Grace realized what had happened, she snickered. One of the leather thongs had missed Cowboy Dude's thigh and wrapped around his penis. She noted her aunt did a masterful job of hiding a smirk.
Auntie Beth said, "True power lies in our ability to love, dear, not our ability to dominate."
"That's a crock of shit," he said, unwinding the thong with a grimace. "Someone like you deserves a taste of our talents. I bet I can turn you into a convert."
Auntie Beth stared down her nose at Cowboy Dude. "Been there, done that, loathed it."
Grace felt her eyes cross. "Did you hear that?" she whispered to Nick.
While Cowboy Dude tried snapping his whip without mutilating himself, Auntie Beth backed smartly out of reach. "Put that damn thing away," she said.
He stared at his bobbing penis in surprise.
"I'm talking about the whip, you horny bozo."
"Aw, c'm on, babe. One little smack." He demonstrated abysmal lack of judgment by trying to scramble onstage. The whip and his erection impeded his progress.
Auntie Beth waited until he was balanced on both hairy forearms before moving forward. She stooped low enough to display vast quantities of boob to the spellbound audience. With great precision, she stomped on his fingers.
He howled. Auntie Beth pried the cat o' nine tails from his fingers, examined it. The air hummed with the force of her practice swings. She took her time.
Too macho to back off, Cowboy Dude was straining to hoist himself up when all twelve knotted strands connected with his bare shoulder.
He squealed like a girl.
"See how you like that," Auntie Beth yelled as he fell backwards into the arms of fellow doms. "I warned you I wasn't a submissive."
A moment later, Cowboy Dude re-surfaced. "You sure pack a mean swing," he yelled, rubbing his welts and leering. "Feels real good. Maybe I'll consider switching sides."
Auntie Beth's disgusted sniff spoke volumes. She resumed her speech as if there had been no interruption. Grace recognized several excerpts from Martin Luther King and one from the Dalai Lama.
Pretty soon, slaps and squeals rang out everywhere. Submissives shrieked for mercy, while their doms brandished riding crops, whips, and paddles, including a hand-shaped slapper. Apparently Auntie Beth hadn't noticed all hell had broken loose because she droned on about freedom from abuse and persecution.
Finally, a particularly earsplitting shriek must have penetrated her fervor. The monologue stopped in mid-sentence. She surveyed the chaos, fisted her hands on her hips. "You didn't listen to a word I said, assholes," she yelled over the racket. "Love is all the power we need."
A deep breath thinned the latex. The zipper strained in protest.
Grace had to shout at Nick over the din. "I don't like the look of that zipper."
Auntie Beth raised both hands, putting more stress on the latex. Grace swore she heard the zipper squeal. Apparently Auntie Beth hadn't.
"Let's all raise our voices in song," she chirped. "Together, we'll bring love into our hearts by singing the old Beatles' favorite, Give Peace a Chance."
Guitars strummed, piano keys tinkled, Auntie Beth started to sing. The song was so catchy, the crowd stopped what it was doing. One by one, voices joined in. Soon, everybody swayed in time to the music.
After a couple of verses, Grace noticed Rooster's red top-knot bobbing above heads at the far end of the dungeon, and moving closer.
"Uh, oh," she said to Nick. "Rooster's headed this way. I don't think he believes in giving peace a chance."
"Time to go," Nick agreed. "And not a minute too soon. That zipper's gonna blow."
She watched helplessly as her aunt inflated her lungs again. The zipper strained before surrendering to the pressure. Boobs bulged, swelled, and sprang loose, quivering. They were everywhere.
Auntie Beth was a big woman.
Still singing, her aunt tried unsuccessfully to wrestle the impressive duo back inside. She ended up holding the boa in front of her chest.
"Keep those feathers in place," Grace yelled. "Let's get out of here."
Nick stretched out a helping hand. He averted his eyes as Auntie Beth and her boobs climbed down from the stage.
The crowd was too busy to notice.
As they hustled toward the exit, Nick said, "In the name of all that's holy, Beth, why are you at Kinki tonight?"
Feathers fluttered and parted in an alarming manner. "I wanted to make sure Gracie was safe. Then when I saw the horrible things those dominants were doing to the poor submissives, I got sidetracked."
As they sprinted away, the sound of cracking whips, smacks, and orgasmic cries followed them out the door.