by Cole, Tillie
“Ha! I’ll be their biggest challenge yet,” I said, feigning hilarity at her snark. I cast her a strained smile and quickly left her office.
Despite Sally’s acidic tongue lashing, I felt like I was walking on air as I headed down the elevator and toward Novah. She jumped up from her seat and followed me to the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door, after making sure no one else was in the cubicles. I switched on all the hand dryers and faucets to drown out any noise. Novah watched me with the eyes of a hawk. Then I stood before her. “She wants it to be the big feature.”
Novah’s mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking with me?”
“No,” I said and Novah grabbed my arms and started screaming. I couldn’t help screaming either. “Shush, shush!” I said after ten seconds of good shrilling. I pulled Novah closer. “No one is allowed to know. I carry on as normal. Write ‘Ask Miss Bliss,’ but at night…”
“Get the shit whipped out of your tush and become the daughter of Chaos.”
“Huh?”
“NOX. The Roman goddess of night and the daughter of Chaos.”
“Okay. I didn’t know who NOX was. So that was helpful. But yes to what you said about the whipping of said tush.” As I said those words, the reality of the situation crashed down upon me. “Fuck, Nove.” My hands trembled slightly. “What am I going to be stepping into?”
“Copious amounts of come and other bodily fluids, I imagine. Oh, and lube. They’ll have that shit on tap.” I pulled the card from my bra and stared at the number. “No time like the present, hey babe?”
Nodding, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell. I could do this. I loved sex. Was pretty fluid. Experimented in college as most people did. This was just another experiment, with the holy award of gaining the big feature at the end. What were a few bruises and mass orgies to land that baby? Orgasms as payment? I could cash those checks all day.
“Okay,” I said on a deep breath and punched the number into my cell. It rang exactly three times before someone picked up.
“Membership number?”
“I was given a card last night,” I said, stumbling over my words, and waited for the other person to speak.
“Code on the card.”
“Two, one, six, eight, three.”
I waited in silence, Novah leaning in close to listen. “It’s gone quiet,” I mouthed to Novah. She leaned in further, pressing her cheek to mine. The man came back on the line. “I’ll text an address to this cell number. You must visit that address within the next two hours. You’ll be contacted afterward with further instructions.” With that the phone went dead.
“Well, that wasn’t creepy in the slightest,” Novah said and I shook my head in shock.
“It’s like the Mission Impossible of sex clubs,” I said. “This message will self-destruct in sixty-nine seconds.” I winked at Novah just as an address came through the cell.
Novah was on her cell in no time, googling the address. “It’s a clinic,” she said, “not too far away.”
“Well,” I said and turned off the dryers and faucets. “I’d better get my ass to the clinic quick smart. I’ve got a sex dungeon to join.”
* * *
“There is no part of me that hasn’t been searched, poked, and swabbed,” I said as I entered my apartment later that night. Sage and Amelia were sitting on the couch awaiting my return. I’d been texting them the developing story as the day progressed. Sally had sworn me to secrecy, but that didn’t include these two or Novah. I told them everything.
I slouched onto the couch and winced. “Front or back passage?” Sage asked, eyebrows dancing.
“Both. The side, vertical, and horizontal ones too.” I took the glass of water Amelia offered me before she slumped to my other side. I drank the water in one go and rolled my neck, closing my eyes as I rested the back of my head against the couch.
“They took so many tests from me today my head is spinning. Earning my master’s degree was easier than that medical exam. Who knew there were that many STDs you could catch? And the fucking vampire nurse savaged my arm to get blood. I was sure it was a test of endurance. Knowing my luck she’ll be the head dominatrix and loves nothing more than blood play. My poor veins had performance anxiety and ran away when the needle came calling. They got prick shy.”
“Let’s hope the rest of Faith doesn’t get prick shy,” Sage said and I elbowed him in his ribs, wiping the smug look off his face.
I grabbed my purse and pulled out the NDA I’d been given to sign, scan and send back. “They told me to have my attorney look at this for me. I’m not allowed into this place until it’s signed. After being Nurse Nightmare’s pincushion for the better half of three hours, I’m getting into that club ASAP.” I handed it to Sage. “And since you’re my attorney...” I batted my lashes at him, and Sage took the NDA and went to sit at the table.
I felt Amelia’s worry hovering over me like an annoying fly that keeps buzzing by your ear. “Amelia, I’m fine.”
“You good with anal?” she asked and I choked on my tongue.
“What?”
“Fisting?”
“Amelia!”
“Pegging?”
“Amelia!”
“Squirting, queening, figging?” she continued.
“What the fuck is figging?”
“Having a piece of ginger shoved up your asshole. It burns, Faith. It goddamn burns and some people love it.” I blinked at my friend, realizing she was completely serious.
“Shit. I’ll never look at the Gingerbread Man the same way again. Was it the Muffin man who did this figging? Did he degrade Gingerbread in such a way? The dirty bastard.”
Amelia ignored my joke and asked, “You okay with CBT?”
“The therapy?”
“Cock and ball torture, Faith. Cock and ball torture.”
I covered Amelia’s hand. “Out of everything you have just said, that seems the most exciting to me. Who wouldn’t want to clamp their hands on a pair of balls and make some asshole scream?”
“You’re not being serious about any of this, Faith!” she said, exasperated.
“I am, Amelia.”
“You didn’t even know what queening was, I could tell by your face.”
“I still don’t.”
“It’s when you pop a squat and smash your vagina into someone’s face. That’s it. You just sit on someone’s face. Queening! It’s a whole thing.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Amelia’s mouth twitched until she finally joined in. “Pop a squat? If that’s the truth, then I’m screwed! I can’t squat to save my life. I’d kill the poor asshole who wanted to chow down between my legs. With my thigh strength I’d land on the guy’s face and wouldn’t be able to get back up.” I looked across the room. “Sage! Is vaginal asphyxiation a thing?”
“Sure,” he said, without taking his eyes off the NDA. “Any kind of asphyxiation is a thing.”
“Faith—” Amelia pulled on my arm.
“Amelia. I love you. And bless your innocent heart, but I can only imagine what you had to go through to research those terms today.” Amelia was quiet and not at all adventurous. I adored her for doing this for me.
“I sat in the Hall of Human Origins amongst the life-sized Neanderthals. I swear at one point they were peering over my shoulder, looking at my laptop, gasping along with me.”
“Gasping, huh? That another sexual activity?”
“It is, actually,” Amelia said and my laugh dropped. “It’s when you choke someone out as they come. They pass out for a few seconds and it’s meant to be akin to what some would deem ecstatic.”
“Wow.”
“Wow. Exactly, Faith. These are the types of things you will be walking into blind. I know you’re not some virginal princess, but to these people, you are. This isn’t hooking up with some random guy in a bathroom. This is real scary sex play.”
Leaning over, I kissed Amelia on the cheek. “I love you. And I appreciate you. I just
want you to know that. But this is happening, sweets.” Sage flopped down beside me. “Well?” I asked him.
“It’s ironclad, as I thought it would be.” It deflated my hope of the big feature like a pin being stabbed into a blow-up doll. “But not impossible. You’d have to leave out any names, any facial descriptions—anything that could expose the people you meet, or fuck. But as for your experience, what you do and have done to you, you’re good to go.”
“Argh!” I screamed and dived on Sage. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “Sage, would you like me to queen you in thanks?”
“What?” he asked, nose wrinkling in confusion.
“Smash my hoohaw on your face.”
“Erm...I’m good, Faith, thanks.”
“You sure? These are the delicious treats one might expect from me from now on. I shall become well versed in all things kink.”
“One hundred percent sure, baby girl. Though if you find a handsome man who wants to deliver me treats, I won’t say no.”
“What if he wanted to shove ginger up your ass?”
“Then I’d say call me Mr. Moscow Mule.”
I barked a laugh and slapped Sage’s buff chest.
“I can’t with you two,” Amelia said and curled up on the couch away from us. “Each of you is as bad as the other.” I dove forward and cuddled into her arm. Amelia laughed and pushed me away.
“You want me to scan this and shoot this over?” Sage asked. He had an office setup like no other in his apartment.
“Yes please.”
Ten minutes later, Sage was back in our front room and the signed contract had been sent to NOX. The nerves I had been fighting all day were starting to kick in. It was done. I was going to be attending NOX.
Just as I got up to grab a drink, my phone rang. I fumbled with the device, luckily avoiding dropping it for once in my life. “Hello,” I answered hurriedly. Sage and Amelia muted the TV and watched me.
“Tomorrow night. Seven p.m. Come fully shaved, no hair on the genital area, and be clean. Your hair must be tied up. You will be sent the address an hour before your arrival time. Don’t be late. You only get one chance at NOX, don’t waste it.” The call clicked off, and I looked at my friends with wide eyes.
“Tomorrow night,” I said and took a deep breath. “I go tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night I would discover what was hidden behind the high walls of mystery that surrounded the infamous club. I would commit myself to getting the story, no matter what I must endure. I, Faith Maria Parisi, would enter NOX, my eyes—and, no doubt, my legs—wide open.
Chapter Six
“You can do this, Faith,” I chanted to myself as the cab began to slow. My black three-quarter length trench coat was pulled tightly around my waist. The man on the phone last night hadn’t given me a dress code. So I’d dressed in my sexiest get-up and hoped it would suffice. I wore a fitted black dress and my best five-inch heels—it was a tad ambitious for a lady of my balance ineptness to try for such great heel heights, but I felt the night required something bold. I was entering a sex club after all. Maybe I would discover some handsome man who had a fetish for clumsiness.
My hair was swept up in a mass of waves on the top of my head, a gazillion bobby pins holding it in place. My makeup was heavy and glamorous with my new red lipstick matching my nails. Chandelier earrings hung from my ears. I feared I looked like an extra from Jersey Shore. But I was here now, and I had to pull up my big-girl pants and face the floggers.
The cab came to a stop in the center of the Upper East Side and I stared at the towering townhouse, perfectly situated beside its pretty neighbors on the idyllic tree-lined street. It was made of white stone with Romanesque columns standing like guards at the all-glass entrance. The glass was opaque and I couldn’t see inside. It was all very Roman Pantheon in its awe-inspiring aesthetic. And its facade suited the name of the club. The goddess and daughter of Chaos would be proud of this Italian architecture. As beautiful as it was, it looked like just another ungodly expensive home in New York. This infamous club was hiding in plain sight. From the street one would never know the carnal delights it offered inside.
“You getting out?” the cab driver snapped, interrupting my inner musings.
“Calm your tits, Mike,” I said, seeing his name on his cab license, hanging from his mirror. “I’m out.”
I stepped out onto the sidewalk, my gaze traveling up to the very top of the building. It was at least five stories tall. How many rooms could a building like this boast? I could only imagine the amount of rope and latex that it must take to satisfy the clientele behind the thick walls.
“You got this, Faith,” I said again and began climbing the steps, carefully trying to stay upright on my skyscraper heels. I rang the bell and waited for the games to begin.
A butler, of all people, answered the door. He must have been at least in his late seventies, his gray hair and the heavy wrinkles on his face giving his maturity away. And he dressed as any butler would, in black pants and a matching jacket, with a white shirt and black bow tie around his neck.
“Do you have your card, Madam?” he asked, as though he’d been expecting me, his softly spoken English accent sailing to my ears like a gentle breeze. His accent soothed, where Harry Sinclair’s voice felt as annoying as a cheese grater over my ass.
I reached into my pocket and handed him the card. He moved to an iPad-looking contraption on the wall in the foyer and typed something in. “ID?” he asked next. I handed over my driver’s license. He scanned it on the same device.
He smiled at me when the machine beeped and flashed a green light. Handing me back my ID, he bowed and said, “Welcome to NOX, Miss Parisi.” He gestured for me to enter the large white marbled foyer. The front door shut and locked behind us. “All new sirens are required to meet in the basement.”
“Sirens?” I questioned.
He gave a silent nod. “This way, Miss Parisi,” Alfred said. I didn’t know his name, but this was all very Batman, so the name suited him well. Well, if under his bat suit Batman was wrapped head to toe in a gimp suit and liked to lick people’s feet after wrestling them in Jell-O.
Alfred led the way, walking a fraction ahead of me. He’d only made it a few feet when I choked on my own saliva. “Is all well, Miss?” Alfred asked, turning to face me.
“Very,” I rasped through my raw throat, trying to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head. “Please, continue.” I smiled in encouragement. Alfred resumed the lead, and the source of my choking fit swiftly came into view. Alfred’s suit looked like the typical attire of a well-trained British butler to the queen herself but, on closer inspection, the entire ass of the pants was missing, showcasing his saggy behind for all the world to see. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his slightly flat cheeks as he led me to a set of stairs and we began our descent.
I averted my eyes from the elderly man’s ass and set my sights on the sweeping marble staircase that led to the upper floors. I tried to listen for any sounds of sex or, at the very least, mood music, but all that could be heard was the clacking of my heels on the marble floor. Rich red carpet covered the landings and the center of the stairs, and an extensive number of vases filled with bouquets of flowers sent a sweet fragrance around the space. Artistic masterpieces, so big they belonged in museums, adorned the walls.
I was so busy admiring the view I tripped on a stair, grabbing the handrail for balance, and I viewed the pictures up close. They were Renaissance-style paintings of men with their heads between women’s legs, women having sex with men in all kinds of Kama Sutra positions—men with men and women with women. This was no ordinary Upper East Side town house.
Darkly stained wooden doors made a maze of the hallways. The farther we descended, the more I wondered just how big this townhouse truly was and how many people it could hold. My mind boggled at how many bottles of lube one must purchase to keep such a sexual frenzy going strong through even one night.
As we reached what seemed to be the basement, two ornate doors sat on opposite sides of the landing. These were not dark wooden doors like those in the rest of the house, but appeared to be made from pure gold, with Roman figurines carved into the illustrious panels.
Alfred led me to the right and turned the knob. “In you go, Madam.” I edged cautiously through the doorway, and a female dressed in a full-body PVC latex catsuit greeted me. I found myself standing in a black box. There was no other name for it. Both the walls and floor were jet black, illuminated only by dim red lights cascading from the ceiling like dusky twilight.
A mask covered the woman’s face. It was a full-face mask, only showing her red-painted lips. And at the top of the mask, she sported the huge ears of a rabbit. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t make out her face under the lagomorphic coverage. Only her eyes. And the vivid shade of purple shining back at me proved that even eye colors were disguised by the clever use of contacts.
Anonymity, it was NOX’s key to success, after all.
“Welcome to our club. You were scouted by our resident reconnoiter to become a beloved NOX siren.” The curvaceous woman talked in a seductive, though slightly robotic, tone. “Sirens are those who have a natural sexual magnetic draw. Those who can lure and tempt our members like forbidden fruit and help make their greatest fantasies come to life.”
A siren. I had been scouted to be a siren. I didn’t know the specifics, but from the little information there was on NOX online, I wondered if a siren was a kind of sexual pet.
“Do you consent?” Bunny asked.
I closed my eyes, giving myself an internal pep talk. You can do this. You will enjoy this. You can do it.
“I consent,” I said, opening my eyes and gaining the gleaming smile of Bunny.
“Then please follow me.” Bunny moved to one of the black walls and pushed it open. A door opened to what appeared to be a changing room. If changing rooms were gothic in decor with booths made to look like medieval stone dungeons.
