by Jamie Knight
“No. No, thank you.”
I then turn my attention back to Britney, whose undivided attention I finally have.
“I really need to get out of here. I know you think this is a good time, but you know how I am!”
Britney sweeps back her chestnut brown hair, puckers her cotton-candy pink lips, and sighs. It’s not the sigh of someone who’s upset, just depressed.
“I know,” she says, drawing me aside with her, and telling the rest of our click to follow with a “come on, girls.”
She’s quiet a moment as we find our way out of the bustle, and then says, “I know, Mel. I was just…was really hoping you might enjoy yourself in a place like this, even with how sensitive you are.” We all keep walking out of the dance and lounge area, toward the main doors. “But I don’t really know where else we can celebrate.”
“Yeah, especially when we did already drive a few hours to get here,” points out Becky. “I mean, if you wanted to go somewhere quiet, we should have just stayed in our borough.”
I hang my head, feeling awful. It doesn’t help that the air outside is cold, or that now that we’re out of the club, there isn’t anywhere else I can think of to go, other than home.
Shay elbows Becky. I don’t have to see behind me to know. I can tell by the cursing that follows.
“Don’t be mean, Becky. She really didn’t want to go in, but we made her. You, more than anyone else, actually. So you don’t get to complain when she does exactly what we all knew she would.”
Shay closes the distance between us, and slings her arm around me.
“Don’t worry about it, girl. We’ll find something else to do. Somewhere else to go.”
Chapter 2 - Melissa
After making our way some distance away from the neon signs and dark windows, we have come to a stop under some streetlights. Not a stone’s throw away, there is a map of the surrounding area. It gives you some idea of nearby shops and restaurants, but we’d already consulted that.
And at that time, there weren’t many things open. There were certainly not going to be many options now, either.
“We’ll end up going home,” says Becky, sounding disappointed.
“Not unless we end up seeing something interesting,” answers Britney, sounding as though she’s already found that “something interesting.”
Without even waiting for us to see what she sees, she yells at us to come on, to follow her, so we do.
“Interesting clothes like that don’t just come out of run-of-the-mill restaurants or bars,” I hear her breathe.
Against my shy and unsure nature, I look up to see what she means. And there, just getting ready to turn a corner, is a woman dressed in a red and black corset. She’s wearing thick black and red boots as well, and enough belt buckles traveling the length of her legs and thighs to accentuate her smooth, white skin underneath.
While I’m embarrassed for the young woman (I would never be caught dead in clothes like that; my dad would kill me), I’m a little intrigued. I hate to admit it, but since Britney’s already dragging us after her, I’m interested in seeing what rabbit hole she might be scurrying back to.
I don’t know how long we’re running for, following this young woman, but we quickly end up in a part of town we are not used too. Not that any of us are paying much attention, but I’m starting to get nervous about that fact. And scared, since our car is now at least ten city blocks away, and this part of town isn’t as well-traveled.
We watch the corset-wearing woman pick her way across the street, and confidently join up with a dapper-looking man in a suit. They stand in front of the large, mansion-like building, before going inside.
The building is Colonial in some aspects, but also reminiscent of the frat houses around my college campus. Club Lush, reads the fancy, old-timely plaque above the doors.
I’m not sure what kind of club it is, or whether I want to even go inside, but Britney says for all of us to come on, and to see what fun can be had, despite this place looking way too fancy and way too exclusive to just allow for walk-ins.
I want to object to this plan, but I’m too shy.
Shay makes sure I follow, and Becky, Samantha and Karen bring up the rear, making sure I don’t flee.
Hustling across the street, Britney pulls open one of the large dark-stained wooden doors, and we all sneak inside.
Sneak.
That really is an accurate depiction, since, the moment we get on the other side, it’s clear we don’t even belong in this breezeway, let alone whatever establishment is beyond the other set of double doors. The dapper gentleman and his corset-wearing lady are speaking to a bouncer. While he’s wearing a fancy suit and tie, the bulge and bulk in his muscles are clearly visible, as are the other well-dressed couples around, no doubt waiting for their turn to be let in.
The bouncer immediately sees us, and no doubt our less-expensive clothing and accessories.
“It seems we’ve lost our way tonight, ladies,” he says. “I’ve never seen you around, and this establishment isn’t open to all. You must have an invitation or a membership to get past me.”
The dapper gentleman unlaces his fingers from those of his lady.
I don’t know what it is about him, but he screams money. Obscene amounts of it, as well as influence.
Maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Maybe it’s the fact that he has more money on display on one of his fingers than I have in my whole bank account.
He looks at all of us, but particularly at me, and says, “Let them in. I forgot to mention I was bringing guests tonight, Lyon. My apologies. If anyone has issue with them, tell them to come talk to me.”
With that said, he takes the hand of his lady, gives us a bow of the head, and retreats into the second pair of double doors.
The intriguing couple gone, and with no other option, the bouncer says, “My mistake, ladies. Any guest of Mr. Ainsworth is a friend of ours. Please, make yourselves at home.”
With that, Britney urges the rest of us inside. Adding, “quick, before he changes his mind!”
I don’t really want to go any further inside of the club, now that I realize how much money all of these people seem to have, and that we really should’ve had an invitation to poke around, but it’s too late. We’re already through the last barrier, the set of double doors, and in the body of the club.
Immediately, I see that this one isn’t like the one we just left. Instead of dance floor areas and a large bar, there are open spaces with naked people on display. Some are being strapped to walls, with rolling carts full of gadgets nearby; others are being whipped with actual flogs and other implements.
“Oh shit,” giggles Britney, “I’ve heard rumors about places like this, but to actually stumble upon one? Holy fucking God,” she breathes. “Now this is perfect for birthday celebration!”
As she is whispering, I’m watching in a confusing mix of horror, excitement and embarrassment as other couples are threading through us: for one pair, one is in a collar, while the other is holding the leash. Some even are wearing hoods.
I’m so embarrassed by the surroundings, I can’t get myself to focus on anything. I keep following Britney, barely realizing that we are being taken to a table close to the bar/kitchen. Our waitress is scantily clad, but between my discomfort at all the weird noises (people seem to enjoy getting flicked with leather), I don’t care.
I can barely believe what I feel happening between my legs, either. I’m feeling tight and hot. Like I might actually be finding this interesting, the surroundings to my liking. This is a fact that my military upbringing squeals and cries against, but that only succeeds in making me even more hot and tight.
We are shown to our seats as I have that realization, and it’s not long before the same scantily-clad waitress takes our orders for drinks.
Within seconds of her disappearing, we are approached by a tall, sinfully-gorgeous woman. Think Marilyn Monroe, but wi
th slightly longer hair. She smiles generously at us, particularly paying attention to me.
“Glad to have you with us tonight, ladies. I am Lady White, the owner of this slice of paradise. But please do be aware.” Long, dark eyelashes size me up. “If you’re going to stay, ladies, if you desire to be our guests, you will need to participate in tonight’s festivities. Not just giggle or gawk.”
And this is when I feel something worse than panic. The need to make a nervous, stress-related trip to the bathroom.
Chapter 3 - Jake
You know what they say about novelty: it only works so long as you don’t beat it to the ground, so long as you don’t OD. And me? I’ve OD’ed on Lady White and her house of pleasures, Club Lush, much too often lately.
But what else is a man of my age to do with my ridiculous amounts of money? The fact that the stock markets have been good to me, a farm boy from Idaho who knew nothing about finances?
When money and women come to you as easily as they do me, you find yourself getting into habits, even when you know you’re bored of them, even when you know you want more, you can’t get out of your rut. Not even if you want to, like I do. Desperately.
I’m at the bar, watching the women without a partner in the club tonight. I’m watching their body language, their cues for just the right amount of submissiveness.
As I drink down my shot of scotch, I know that none of them are going to do it for me. Not even the “baby girls” — the most submissive of the submissive types, those aren’t going to do it for me. Not tonight, probably not ever.
I like to dominate. I like to have a woman who does what I say, how I say, when I say. But I want more than just a woman who can follow orders. I want one who trusts me to do right by her, and to guide her into a world of freedom, despite being under my control— I want a woman who’s truly new.
I need someone truly virginal in her experience. Who doesn’t just know how to act innocent or unsure, but really, truly is.
Just thinking about a woman like that — a pretty young thing who values honesty over manipulation, and wants to play for fun, not just to game — that makes me hot and heavy. Hungry and restless, but also disenchanted.
After coming here every night for the past couple months, and not finding a woman like that among the regular clubgoers, or the rare guests, I’m beginning to lose hope of that ever being a reality.
I finish off my drink, waving away the bartender when she asks me if I want another. “No, no thank you, Katie. That will do for me.”
I push myself out of my leaning position against the bar, and pay my tab.
No amount of drinking is going to make up for the fact that I don’t have a proper sub. No amount of carousing is going to make up for the fact that I’m bored, lonely and irritated with such typical selection.
I pay with cash, not card.
Billionaires like me (though I’m self-made) tend to prefer paper over plastic, especially in clubs like these.
As I turn to get away from the bar, and maybe even get out of the club, I see her. A young woman trailing a whole group of them. By the looks of surprise and interest on most of the female faces in this new group, it’s clear to me that they’ve stumbled in here.
They’ve taken a trip down into this rabbit hole by accident, but are enjoying the ride. But the woman I’m interested in, the one at the back (or trying to be), she looks like a doe in the headlights. She looks like a sweet little kitten, afraid of being drowned.
Her friends are having to practically drag her after the waitress. As I tell the bartender to keep the change, I can’t help it: I chuckle at the young woman’s distress. At the look of pure terror she has on her face.
But, along with the terror, I also see something else. Something I know she feels and fears: interest. Intrigue about what’s going on around her, even as it frightens and disturbs her.
As their waitress shows them to a table, I slink closer. I watch my doe-eyed girl. I enjoy the brightness of her blue eyes against her flushed cheeks. How her long, bright blonde hair frames her face like a platinum heart.
I chuckle again, feeling my body and crotch warming. Even without hearing a word from her mouth, I’m imagining how soft and trembling her voice is. I’m imagining how small and soft her body would feel against mine. How breathy and light her lips would be on mine. On my cock, or anywhere else I told her to put them.
Unconsciously, I bring my hand down to my crotch. Push the eager boy down, telling him to behave himself.
What a treat, I muse. What a tender, gentle soul she is.
I watch her large, liquid eyes fight a losing battle between keeping them pinned in her lap, and scanning her surroundings.
She had no idea what kind of place this was when she walked in. She thinks she doesn’t want to be in a place like this, but she’s enjoying it. She doesn’t want to. She thinks she’s too innocent and “daddy’s little girl” for that — watching her fidget and wiggle in her seat screams that little bit of information at me— you’re interested. You’re intrigued. I’d love to be able to whet that appetite. I think I just might, if you stay around after Lady White gives you the rundown.
Chapter 4 - Jake
Lady White is exactly who’s just approached the girls’ table to introduce herself to them. As she is telling them that if they wish to stay, they will have to participate in the club’s activities, I decide to draw closer. Not close enough to draw attention to myself, but close enough to overhear the conversation — especially the responses of my cute, shy one.
One of the girls asks, “What kind of activities?” She pauses, then adds, “Sexual, obviously, but what exactly do you have to participate in?”
“You could be someone’s pet,” answers Lady White. “You could be someone’s toy.”
She pauses, gesturing to an area where people are strapped to walls, and there are tables full of gadgets waiting to be used on them.
“You could even be someone’s prisoner, if that kind of thing suits you. Either way, you will be required to serve and submit to the members already present, until you become members, or you show yourselves to be competent in more dominant roles.”
Nearly all of the other girls express some level of interest and willingness about all of this. But my little shy one, she looks even more lost and panicked by the prospect. She murmurs something about “being new to all this, and not knowing anything about any of this” before excusing herself.
She does so politely, getting up from her seat and heading somewhere. Until she remembers that she doesn’t know her way around, and has to ask Lady White for directions. She’s squirming adorably.
“Um, I’m sorry, Lady White, but where is the bathroom?”
“Back that way and to the left, doll,” she says, and quickly turns her attention back to the rest of the girls.
And I turn my attention back to my shy little darling. I know how it might look to some, even in this club, but I want to see what else she has to say when no one else is around. I want to have a moment with her, all to myself.
So, I track her to the women’s bathroom. Stealthily, of course.
As I do, I hear my shy one murmur helplessly, “Why oh why did I end up here? I’ve never even kissed anybody before!”
She hurries to the bathroom, but I’m not sure whether she’s going there because she needs to use it, or just cry. “I’ve never dated anybody, and I’m in a place like this!” With that, she darts into the restroom, and I follow in after her.
The moment I’m in the bathroom, and I know the door has closed without anyone seeing me shadow her, I grab her by the wrist and push her into the wall. I move her so her back is spread sexily against the cool tile, as I spread her arms up above her head and kiss her.
Fear and confusion. That’s what I see a light on her beautiful, delicately carved face when I first grab a hold of her. That fear and confusion deepens as I press her to the wall, but as I lean in to kiss her, pre
ss my lips on hers, the fear and confusion fade slightly, revealing desire. Lust for me and this situation, despite feeling and seeing every part of her body quaking and fighting with instincts. The instinct to run, to protect herself from me.
In the beginning, my shy one fights me— the feeling of my lips on her— but that only makes this situation more intriguing, more satisfactory to me. The fact that she’s fighting, when I saw the smallest spark of lust, that urges me forward. Encourages me to keep kissing her, grabbing her soft lips with mine.
The softness of those lips, the way they tremble ever so slightly in between the pockets of warmth and saliva, that makes me hard. In seconds, I’m beyond just a little aroused. I’m thick and heavy, and pressing into her stomach a little.
As the pressure in my kiss deepens, and I feel her feeling my closeness, she relaxes. Relents under my hold and attention, as if she’s not only realized it’s pointless to fight against me, but more importantly, that there’s no reason to.
She knows that, somehow, despite the situation, I’m safe. I’m noble, despite stealing her first kiss from her like a common thief. And that idea — that I’ve taken something so precious from her as a first kiss — that makes me want to have her more. Take more kisses, and more precious things. Like her virginity, which I know is also there, struggling and relenting against me.
But for now, I take my lips from her. I want to watch her come to terms with what I’ve just done. I want to hear her as she catches her breath. I want to savor those first draws of air, the way her face changes. The way the excitement might play across her features.
With my lips off of her, it takes my shy one a moment to respond. To catch her breath, and to wrap her head around what has just happened. Who I am, and why I have just taken her that way.
When she does speak, she stammers out exactly what I would expect a woman of her limited life experience to.
“Who are you?”
“That is for you to find out in a moment,” I say gently, “but for now, let me tell you who you are, Miss. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, a woman who is grateful and happy that it is me stealing her first kiss, even though she doesn’t know it yet.”
