by M. Christine
The Request
Helene urged Will to sit back down.
“A very esteemed club member has requested your participation in a particular kink she has. It would not require anything traditionally sexual, and you’d keep your pants on—if you so desire. There’s room for negotiation with the other party later on, if you decide.”
“Continue,” Will said. He was curious.
“Did you see the truck parked outside? The member, her name is Madison, is there, bound, lying face-up on the floor of the truck bed. It’s rigged for easy restraint—I’ll show you the setup if you want. She’s been there for a while, waiting and hoping that you’ll consent. Madison wants you to drive the truck around these deserted streets and bumpy alleyways, loudly playing the CD that’s in the stereo with her in the back, her dilemma ignored.”
“I parked next to it. I didn’t see or hear anything,” Will said, astounded yet fascinated by the proposal.
“She’s wearing a gag. We’d really appreciate your compliance tonight,” Helene said with a pro negotiator’s smile. “What do you say?”
“What if she gets injured?”
“Only if a semi plows into the back of the truck,” Helene assured. “But that risk probably helps get her off.”
Will thought for a beat, then nodded consent.
They stood up, and Helene directed him through a discreet door that led outside. They approached the truck, and Will felt some apprehension because he did not know what state this Madison would be in. Helene got to the side of the truck first and banged her palm against the steel.
“Hey, bitch! Are you ready?” She peeked into the bed with a mischievous smile.
Will carefully stepped up, ready for a surprise badger to lash out at him. But Madison was helpless, tied at the wrists and ankles, adhered to the corners of the flatbed via D-ring tie-downs.
Madison was naked with a fluff of black pussy hair matted wet at her slit. There was a pool of juice accumulated beneath her sweetheart ass cheeks, which were smashed harshly against the ridges of the corrugated floor. Madison’s splayed arms revealed puffs of armpit hair, which, surprisingly to Will, made his cock stir. The smallish tits on the willing captive were perky, nipples rigid from the evening air and pointing straight to the stars.
But the expression on her face was of ecstasy, as if her body was being serviced by a dozen sex angels, caressing every inch of her flesh to maximize pleasure. Madison turned her head toward Helene but caught Will in her sights. A grin broadened behind her moist kerchief gag, her long black hair framing her no doubt uncomfortable head.
Helene took one look at Will’s face and gave him a knowing nod, slapping the side of the truck twice more. He nodded, slow and slight, but smoldered with innate confidence as he embarked on this hot, twisted task.
“Check up on her periodically. If she blinks three times, slowly, it’s the sign to ungag her, or she needs to speak,” Helene said, walking back to the office.
Will scanned the perimeter of the bed, noticing the precise rigging of Madison’s limbs. Her face continued to gaze longingly at Will, not blinking, not even play-acting fear in the prearranged scene.
Will’s cock was hard. He yanked the cab door open and the handle’s clunk echoed in the desolate quiet of the parking lot and alleyway. The key was in the ignition. It was attached to a key ring, from which dangled a Swiss Army knife and a metal tag that read Property of Memorabilia.
He started the truck and the stereo blared, filling the cab with awesomely abrasive sounds. Will grabbed a CD case left on the seat. It read Grindcore Hearts Thrash. He set the case down, shifted the truck into reverse, and backed up with a force fueled by his raging hard-on. Once in drive, he dominated the dark, dirty, industrial streets, not breaking over the occasional speed bump, yet stopping harshly after careening down an alley near the river. He glanced back and watched Madison’s torso writhe against the rigid steel floor grooves. He gunned it for a short spurt, enjoying how her body strained vulnerably with the changes in direction. Her head pushed up against the wall of the bed when he slowed down and turned quickly.
The windows were closed when Will got in the vehicle, and he left them as they were, figuring it was intended to contain the soundtrack noise. Though he could not hear her, he did see Madison’s expression of gratification: she was getting off better than if she had a vibrator melting her twat.
The CD started over, so Will zoomed back to the Memorabilia complex. There were more cars now, and kink-outfitted members filing in. Will followed a hunch and parked the truck away from the throng of club-goers, leaving Madison isolated and in the shadows.
Will closed the door with just the right amount of slam so she could feel the vibration. From there, he left her, not even checking on her, and went into the club, boner still present. Vincent waved him in, and Will strode to the bar to get some water. He remained there, calmly drinking his water, taking his time, leaning against the counter for about ten minutes.
When he finished, he tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. He snatched up a Big Guy condom from a bowl on the bar and headed back outside. He ended up back at the truck, his footsteps making noise on some scattered gravel.
Will looked over the truck bed wall, of course finding Madison there, breathing lustily, her cold nipples rising and falling. Drool soaked the kerchief, and her languid eyes invited something more. She blinked purposely three times, and with his long, sinewy arm, Will reached in and pulled the cloth below her chin.
“Will you please take me?”
In a flash, Will hopped into the truck with his mighty dick exploding out of his fly, tearing the rubber pack with his teeth and rolling it on.
“Put the gag back in,” Madison whispered.
He did, pulling it firmly into the corners of her mouth. Madison’s vagina was slick and engorged, since it was neglected until that moment. Will slipped it in, laying his muscular weight onto her slight frame. He pumped his hips relentlessly with no gentle warm-up, cramming her hole to his heart’s content. His paws grabbed, mauled, and slapped her handfuls of butt as his prick had a good, hard time violating the tied-up trollop.
Madison’s eyes began to roll back into a deeper subspace, but he barked out an order: “Look at me, pickup slut!” he said. He did not quite believe he spoke those words, but the power made him even harder. “Watch me as I take your helpless hole.”
Madison liked it, which was not a real surprise—her eyes flashed with approval at the jolts of flesh packing her crevice.
It was a wonderful, steamy scene of tailgate coupling under the magical night sky, outdoors, yet so private. With each thrust, Madison’s head moved into the wall, a sensation she liked as she groaned with each uncomfortable squish and cock impact. The semi-muffled sounds emitted from behind her bandana became urgent and hiccupy, and Will felt her body give up on his end, vaginal walls contracting around him and pussy lips twitching noticeably about the base of his dick.
“Keep looking at me,” he reminded her again sternly, and she did.
Her eyes went from naughty to vulnerable, and her pelvic core quivered outward, bound feet thumping involuntarily as Will’s constant pounding racked her with an explosive orgasm. Feeling her legs shudder and seeing that utterly submissive expression on Madison’s face, Will came inside her boiling cunt.
A star dom was indeed born.
Chapter 9
Will Avoids Sammie
Still in role, Will callously left the girl there, freshly fucked. Buttoning up his pants, he walked back to Memorabilia. Helene, now dressed in her evening wear, met him halfway. Will smiled, pointing his thumb over a shoulder to indicate the location of Madison.
“I have a feeling it went well,” she said. Then she called back to the club entrance, “Vincent, give me a hand, please?”
Vincent came over holding a plush robe as Will walked into the club, fully composed and at one with himself. He was thirsty and wanted another water. First though, he needed to discard the b
rimming condom. There was an efficient system of cleanliness and safety in place at Memorabilia, which Will had already picked up on. There were biohazard-style receptacles, opened with a hand wave in front of a sensor. Articles laden with bodily fluid were easily deposited into these containers. The extensive restrooms, always fully stocked with soap and towels, were luxurious, and motion-activated sanitizer dispensers were found throughout the facility for quick disinfecting of sticky hands.
Memorabilia was always well-stocked with sex toys, whips, and paddles, with sterilizing cloths within reach. And for those who just wanted to socialize, there were the classy bars—a large main watering hole and smaller drink stations situated in other spots—and a dance floor. However, Will could not drink: he was too young. The mature, newly legal young man was fine with that, as he had just undergone the most interesting sex of his short life. So, he leaned on the bar, listened to the terrific DJ, and replenished his fluids with an icy bottle of water.
Big dude Vincent walked in carrying a robed Madison, bare feet and rope-burned ankles dangling damsel-like, to a booth with a reserved sign on the table. The raven-haired woman relaxed, melting into the deluxe seat upholstery, cozy in her soft, fluffy wrap. Vincent gestured to the bartender, calling out, “Her usual,” to which the bartender nodded before gathering an ice bucket and filled it with cubes. From a well-stocked refrigerator, the server retrieved a bottle of expensive-looking bubbly alcohol and inserted it into the bucket. Will watched the efficient barkeep lace his fingers around two champagne flutes and then trot the whole experience over to Madison.
Will could see her lips mouth a thank you to the guy. She batted her eyes, which then caught sight of Will. She spoke further to the bartender, who turned around and saw Will standing at the bar. He walked over.
“I know you’re not officially hired yet, but she wants you to join her at the table,” he said.
“Can’t drink; I’m not twenty-one.”
“Oh—that glass is for her friend, the actress Sammie Dorn, who is meeting her here. Madison wants to talk, if you consent.”
Will nodded. He went to Madison and sat down next to her, smiling.
She was still relaxing, sunk down, her head cradled by the curved top of the seat. Her body language was exhausted but high as a kite, not at all the kind of high Will’s brother wallowed in when collapsed on his mattress in the closet. Though still nude under the robe, Madison now exuded elegance and sophistication, and Will had to remind himself that she was indeed the kinky rope slut he just satisfied, and not the Princess of Monaco.
“That was exquisite,” she said. “My body feels amazing, better than if I’d been whipped raw.”
Will did not find the image of her lithe body bloody from a bullwhip arousing, but he listened politely.
“And your cock,” she said, though she silently mouthed the word cock exaggeratedly. “It felt like a thick steel pipe impaling me, hot out of the blacksmith fire.”
“You like dirty talk,” Will said, thinking of Kendra’s mouth and subtly keeping in his dominant role fresh off the truck.
“You bet,” she said as she flashed her eyes to engage him. “Can I call you Will?”
Will didn’t see why not, but he liked that she asked permission.
“Sure, Madison,” purposely not asking her for access to this first-name-address informality.
She seemed happy with this artful exchange. Madison’s eyes diverted into the crowd, spotting someone.
“Speaking of dirty talk.”
An absolutely perfect-looking female materialized in front of the table, wearing a knee-length button-down cotton dress and no shoes. She was an ideal: a head-cheerleader, homecoming-queen type who probably got anything she went after because she was gorgeous, volatile, and ego-inflated by surface beauty. Her hair was chin-length flaxen, bone structure like a supermodel, tall, high hips from which the frock billowed. Though her body was not shown off in a sex-club-specific way, it was very clear that this woman had a killer figure.
She did a spin, sending her skirt aloft in that woman-made breeze, revealing a slit-clinging pair of white underpants. She slid into the booth on the other side of Madison. Will could see a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.
“Will,” Madison began, “this is Sammie.”
Sammie Dorn, sought-after actress, was rumored to have a wild streak. She gave Will a crazy grin, and there was a wacko glint in her eyes. Something in her eyes told him to keep away from her. He stayed cordial, but put up an aloof safety wall. That made Sammie nearly squirm to reel in Will’s attention. Her eyes turned into frightening daggers.
Madison noticed Sammie’s focus shift and exhibited her keenness for reading someone’s mood. “Whoop, she’s set her sights! Will, Sammie’s got a fetish for certain men. She has rich guys—moguls, oligarchs—lining up, but she digs black guys. If they’re rich and black with the right equipment—well, even better.”
“You best shut up, Madi,” the actress made this pretend threat sound ominous. “I’ll tell your dad how you spend your nights and his money.”
“Go ahead,” Madison said. “Then maybe he’ll call me, and we can have dinner. Will, my dad is a loaded film exec who’d rather lavish me with money than quality time. So, I create my own quality time.”
She tapped Will’s forearm with her manicured willowy hand. When she grasped her champagne flute and downed its contents, he spotted the restraint mark on her wispy wrist. It caused a pleasant twinge in his loins. He liked Madison. He could relate to her descriptions of a neglectful home life, however different it was than his own. He definitely liked her more than Sammie Dorn, who he wished would leave.
But the actress was not going anywhere. She pulled all the coy, seductive tricks out of her sleeveless dress, like trying to play footsie with her dusty feet. She walked her fingers across the table to tickle the back of Will’s hand, which instinctively recoiled at her touch.
“Maybe I’ll see you later,” he said, specifically to Madison, while rising to extract himself from the irritating antics of the beauty-blessed minx.
Madison was fine with him leaving. He scanned the premises for Helene or Vincent to touch base. He found Vincent. As Will spoke, Vincent’s glance darted behind him, and Will felt the presence of another human super close to his back. It was Sammie, a fart’s length away from Will’s backside, and he wished he had one ready to repel her.
“Hi,” she said creepily, totally uncaring about his personal space or the fact that he was not interested in her. She clasped her hands behind her back like an innocent maiden, rocking on the balls of her feet as if trying to entice a kiss, or steal one.
“Excuse me,” he told her, bending his elbow into a sharp point to keep her at bay. Will turned to Vincent. “Is Helene in the office? I want this chick away from me.”
With that, Vincent directed him to the office while blocking Sammie from entering. She desperately tried to see where Will was off to, but Vincent’s massive frame prevented it.
Inside the business office, Helene was inspecting footage from security cameras. She motioned for Will to relax on the couch.
“You did great tonight!” she said, handing Will a thick envelope of money. “There’s quite a buzz. And word spreads, as you could see with Miss Dorn.”
“I do not want her near me,” Will was calm but adamant. “There’s enough insanity already in my life.”
“I’m with you on that one, dear,” Helene said, sighing and rolling her eyes. “No problem. She’s a paying member, but members agree to abide our rules of mutual consent. She may pine for you, but she will keep her distance. Let us know if she crosses any boundaries.”
“Right,” Will said. “It’s appreciated. I’m tired, and I’d like to go.”
“Okay, sport. Frances wants to meet with you for brunch tomorrow to discuss some long-term things. Would you please call her about it?”
“Oh.” Will had never taken part in a brunch. “Sure.”
H
e got up, shook hands with Helene—who kissed his cheek—crammed the pack of cash deep into the front of his pants, and left through the office door to the parking lot. Sammie was there, leaning against the stucco building, swilling a beer. With his unique gift of self-preservation, Will looked through her and went straight for his car. He heard a smash of glass, and he turned to see Sammie glaring at him with broken shards around her bare feet. In a flash, Vincent and Helene were there to scold her, reviewing the code of conduct they expected her to follow.
“Go ahead, Will.” Helene caught up with him to assure that everything was under control. “She’s all self-inflicted drama, thrives on it. Ignore her. Have a great night, sweetie!”
Will chuckled, saluting her a goodbye before finally taking off in his car.
Chapter 10
Brunch
Will was remarkably refreshed and energized after a full night’s sleep. He took a piss and a shower, and waited until nine to phone Frances.
“Will! Meet me at Justine’s in half an hour. I’ll text you the address.”
Dressed in Sunday-morning casual, he hopped in his car before Ginger stirred and before he ran into Paul. The restaurant was in an interesting but not yet trendy part of town. The Spanish-style façade was narrow and otherwise nondescript. Will stepped through and was surprised at the expansive, lush, and relaxing haven hidden behind the front door. Skylights and a patio in the back filtered in sparkly sunshine, with charming umbrellas and tree boughs shading tables. The idyllic sound of fountains mixed with the warm voice of the host behind the podium.
“Welcome to Justine’s,” he said. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Oh, I’m meeting someone,” Will said a little slowly. He held up an index finger to indicate forthcoming information while fishing out the business card Frances gave him. “Ah, here it is…Frances Tallchief.”
An impressed expression appeared on the host’s face. He nodded his head, almost with a bow. He grandly gestured with one arm and led Will to a secluded table behind a vine-covered wall. Here Frances was sipping coffee, relaxing in the company of a distinguished-looking white-haired gentleman. In the nook there was a trickling waterfall fountain, making it seem as though Will was about to brunch in a grotto. To Will, the atmosphere was heavenly.
