“Let's do a shot!” Jessica said excitedly.
Leslie gave her friend a withering look, but truth be told she was starting to feel a little better. She loved house music, often listening to it during her workouts at the gym. Without waiting for agreement, Jessica filled three shot glasses with vodka. The liquor thick from its low temperature, it rose to the brim of the chilled glass as Jessica poured with a practiced hand. She handed one to Leslie and one to Donald, and the three of them raised their drinks in the air.
“To having a great night,” said Jessica, her face flushing with excitement.
“Hear hear,” said Donald, his thick fingers dwarfing the shot glass in his hand.
The three clinked glasses and downed their drinks. Leslie made a face at the bitter taste of the alcohol. She sucked down the last of the drink that Jessica had brought her minutes before, the sudden hit of alcohol and Red Bull coursing through her veins.
“I'm drunk,” she said bluntly, feeling herself begin to loosen up.
The house music began to sound better and better as she moved her body to the beat. Jessica laughed as she watched her friend dance, a silly smile plastered across her face.
“Jessica tells me that you're one of the hardest working students in the class,” said Donald, leaning forward politely.
“Yeah,” Leslie replied, curling a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “They say the first year of law school is the hardest. I'm just trying to get through it.”
“She's being modest,” Jessica said, interrupting their conversation. “She's a workaholic. And I'm Asian, so you know that's saying something!”
The three of them chuckled together as Jessica mixed another round of drinks. Leslie felt herself strangely attracted to the man sitting before her, yet at the same time she was out of practice with the whole flirting thing. The workaholic comment wasn't far off – she was studious to a fault.
“I had to drag her out of her apartment today to come here,” said Jessica, confessing Leslie's sins for her. She stroked her friends arm softly, consoling her at the memory of earlier that night.
“That's too bad,” said Donald, his deep voice carrying smoothly over the house music. “Sounds like you needed a night to blow off some steam.”
“Yes!” said Jessica excitedly. “That's exactly what I was saying.”
“You know,” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “You should visit the back room, Leslie. We have a professional masseuse back there who would help work out some of that tension.”
Jessica opened her eyes wide, a big smile on her face as she nodded her head up and down in an exaggerated movement. She formed her hand into the shape of a gun, pointing it at Donald.
“Oh, I don't know,” said Leslie, furrowing her brow. “I don't have any money for that. And besides, I think we were going to leave soon. Right Jessica?”
“Oh it'll be fine,” said her friend, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. “I had one last time I was here. Its really nice.”
Leslie fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she stared daggers at her alleged friend, vowing silently that she would remember this next time Jessica tried to drag her to one of these parties.
“Its good,” said Donald, placing a hand reassuringly around Leslie's wrist. “It really helps release all the tension.”
Jessica stifled a giggle with the palm of her hand. She regained her composure quickly, but not before Leslie shot her a suspicious glance. Without waiting to be questioned, Jessica stood up, her long legs stretching for eternity in front of Leslie. Her open palm appeared before Leslie's face, the well-manicured nails each extending uniformly from her fingertips.
Reluctantly, Leslie took her friend's hand. Well, I'm already here, she thought. I might as well get into it.
“Just head through that door over there,” said Donald, indicating a red door off in the distance. “Tell them that you're a guest of the Jailor and they'll take care of you.”
He winked at Leslie as he walked away. A meaty finger pointed at Jessica loosely, “Talk to me later, let me know how it was.”
Jess kept the smile on her face until he turned around. She relaxed visibly, pulling Leslie close to her and whispering again urgently in her ear.
“Oh my god!” she said giddily. “He's is so hot!”
Leslie found herself giggling despite herself, but she chalked it up to the alcohol. The two girls gathered their drinks and headed off in the direction that Donald had indicated for them. Briefly, her mind wandered across the possibility that what lay beyond that door was more than just a simple massage.
They knocked on the door, exposing another dark corridor, several doors lining either side. A single Guardsman blocked their passage, waiting expectantly.
“Donald sent us in here. He said we could have a massage,” Jessica said confidently, standing her ground.
The man nodded. “Doors two and three,” he grunted.
The two held hands briefly, staring into each other's eyes. “Have fun, okay?” said Jessica. “Keep an open mind.” Without another word, she walked through the door with the number two on it, leaving Leslie all alone in the corridor.
“Room three,” the man reminded her, bringing her out of her alcohol induced daze. He stepped aside as she passed, his eyes passing up and down her curvaceous frame lustily as she walked by.
Leslie entered room three. A Guardsman waited on the other side, indistinguishable from the rest of the burly men that Donald kept in the club. His only defining characteristic was a sleeve of tattoos across his left arm, artistic designs swirling up and down the length of his musculature.
He stood up at the sudden intrusion, revealing a massage table unlike anything Leslie had ever seen before. Truth be told, it more closely resembled an operating table with a cushion on it than a massage table. Leslie gave a start when she spotted a nearby stand with all manner of restraints, sex toys, candles and other means of stimulation.
Jessica's words echoed in her head, “Keep an open mind.” she had said.
Leslie sighed, determined to do just that. “Do,” she began awkwardly, “do I need to take off my clothes?”
“You can keep your bra and panties on, if you want,” said the man, his deep voice echoing across the stone walls of the cramped room.
Ah, fuck it, thought Leslie, stripping out of her tiny black dress.
Her breasts hung down as she lifted the dress above her head, tossing it haphazardly on a nearby chair. It was then that she realized that she was still barefoot – her shoes still in the VIP room where she had left them.
Leslie stood there, her mind swimming from the alcohol, and took another sip of her drink. She stared at the bulge in his leather pants, but the Guardsman gave no indication that he was aroused by her voluptuous female form.
“Lie on the table,” the man said, indicating the metal cot in the center of the room.
Leslie did as she was told, placing her hands at her sides as she lay on her back. The cool metal felt cold against her back, sending a chill down her spine as she stared up at the plain ceiling. She took a moment to observe her surroundings, but other than the stone walls and stone ceiling, nothing seemed out of the ordinary about the room. A faint red light bulb illuminated the room in a dim red glow, but other than that the room was quite bare.
The burly man lifted a strap from the bottom of the table, placing it across the top of her chest, just above her breasts. She glanced down at the strap, then back up at the man, vaguely registering that this was unlike any other massage she had ever had before.
“Uh, this is a massage, right?” she asked, her breasts rising from her chest like two small hills.
The man ignored her question as he fastened a similar strap across her midsection, locking her in place. The straps resembled a thick leather belt to Leslie as she watched the man tie her down. Her pulse began to quicken as the silence filled her with anxiety, instantly regretting her poor decisions of the night.
Shit! Why
did I agree to go out tonight? Stupid Jessica, she's probably having a laugh about this in the other room. I never should have agreed to that drink. The damn alcohol went straight to my head. Look at me, tied to a bed like some kind of medieval torture victim. If my parents saw me now...
The voice in her head trailed off as she tried to think of a way to stop what was happening to her. Before she could formulate an excuse to get out of there, the man clicked shackles around her ankles, locking her legs to the sides of the table. Images of the sex show from earlier flashed in her mind, the red glow of the room reminding her of the ball gag stuffed in the woman's mouth.
Her eyes widened as she replayed the scene in her head, her palms sweating for fear she would receive similar treatment. Although her heart began to thump against her chest, part of her wanted to see how she would respond to such pressure.
The man pulled Leslie's arms out to her sides, clicking handcuffs around her wrists. Thoroughly restrained to the table as she was, she noticed that the man was able to set her position on the table by pulling various levers. Spread eagle seemed to be the position of choice for the beginning of this “massage,” something Leslie had certainly never experienced before.
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, a mix of fear and passion blending her voice into something unfamiliar.
“I'm not going to do anything,” the man said as he finished restraining her.
Locked into place as she was, she tested her restraints. Metal clanged as the cuffs cut into her wrists and ankles, her midsection locked in place from the thick leather straps.
“What do you mean? Then why are you chaining me to this table?” She asked inquisitively, the alcohol appropriately lowering her inhibitions.
“The boss wants to break you in himself,” the man sneered. “He likes virgins like you.”
“I am not a virgin!” Leslie scoffed, trying to stiffen her neck in protest.
The man turned his back to her, lighting a row of candles set on a nearby table. He lit each one with a practiced hand, as if he had done it a million times before.
“We call people who have never been to The Dungeon, 'virgins,'” the man clarified once he had finished.
Before she could answer, the door opened and Donald strode through. He had discarded his black blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. The veins along his muscular arms formed a map along his exposed skin. His mere presence captivated Leslie as she sensed a halo of raw power emanating from him.
“Thanks,” he said, loosening his tie. “I'll take it from here.”
The Guardsman nodded, took one last glance at Leslie and walked out. Donald tossed his silk tie on top of Leslie's clothes, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. Curly hairs poked through the top of his shirt, standing out against his olive-colored skin.
“What is this, Donald?” Leslie demanded, trying to sound stern. “I thought I was going to have a massage.”
He took a step towards her, placing a hand on her stomach. “I like to welcome some guests personally to The Dungeon,” he said ominously.
His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he drank her in with a hungry look. “You've never been to this place before. I'm going to make sure this is an experience that you never forget.”
Leslie stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. She felt the blood rushing to her face in anticipation as she watched Donald casually take one of the lit candles from atop the table. Her eyes widened as he poured hot wax along her stomach. It burned like hell for a second before hardening on her soft white skin. Leslie hissed in pain as the man known as The Jailor dribbled the hot liquid across her upper body.
“Do you like pain?” Donald asked, his eyes betraying a sick pleasure in his act of domination.
“I suppose,” Leslie began, unsure of how to respond.
“I know this is new to you,” said Donald. “But I've met girls like you before. Straight A students, too uptight to do anything other than study or work. You grind yourself into dust, trained from a young age to be perfect little angels.”
He punctuated his words with another stream of hot wax. It singed her skin as he poured it onto her legs. Though the pain only lasted for a second, it was intense enough to make her flinch against her bindings.
“And then one day, you just snap,” he said, flicking his eyes hungrily over her body. “First you're perfect little students, then wives or workers, and then mothers – and your whole life you try to please the people in your life by going above and beyond. But where's your release?”
He set the candle back on the table, using his free hand to cup the back of her head gently. The palm of his hand felt rough, not like the hand of a stock broker at all, thought Leslie. He held her head softly in his hand as he continued to speak.
“But I offer you a short respite from that. You see, Leslie,” he went on, “pain can be a useful thing. You can use it to guarantee release. Why do you think people put themselves through this? Because after the pain comes relief. The hot wax burns for a second, and then it doesn't. It stimulates your nervous system, causing your brain to release endorphins which make you feel good. Its almost like a drug.”
He gripped her hair tightly in his hand as he spoke, sending tingles shooting through the sensitive skin on her scalp. She hissed through her teeth as his grip became just a little bit too tight. Donald released his grip suddenly, sending a wave of relief coursing through her body. Leslie panted from the alternative sensations of pleasure and pain, her body unsure of what he would do to her next.
“I'm so horny,” she confessed to him, her eyes looking at him in askance.
Good one, Leslie! She thought, kicking herself mentally.
Donald smiled at her sudden honesty. “Soon,” he promised. “That's part of the fun. The waiting. The anticipation for the release of tension. People want to cum so badly, it makes it all the more worth it when they finally do.”
“I've been wanting it all night,” she said, shocked that she was being so candid with this man. “Ever since we watched that sex show in the beginning, I knew this is how the night would end for me. Well, not exactly like this, but I've seen some crazy stuff tonight. My panties are so wet.”
Donald ran a hand along the soft flesh of her thigh, his fingertips softly tracing long lines across her white skin. When he arrived at the crook of her thigh, he tucked a finger inside her red lace panties. His eyebrows shot up as he made eye contact with Leslie, the thick moisture of her sex belaying his surprise.
“My my,” he said. “You certainly are horny. I'm tempted to fuck you right now.”
“Yes,” she said, feeling as if her body were being pulled on a string towards him.
Her body ached to feel the touch of such of a powerful man. The atmosphere of the club had sent her senses reeling since she had stepped foot in the place. Overwhelmed by the sexual vibe in the air, she had been waiting for her turn to reach climax since she had seen that it was such an acceptable thing to do.
Without another word, Donald slipped a finger inside Leslie's slippery wet opening. He moved it around in circles, pressing against the soft walls of her vagina. She moaned, her body relaxing as she imagined her body lubricating itself in intense desire for more stimulation. But Donald pulled his finger out quickly, teasing Leslie with just a taste of things to come.
“Ah ah ah,” he said, wagging his shiny finger in her face. “Not yet.”
He produced a sharp knife from the table. Slipping the point under her panties, he cut them free, leaving her naked except for her bra. He did the same for her brassiere, sending her breasts flopping heavily to the sides. He lowered himself to her, closing his lips around the soft flesh of her nipple. With ample suction, Leslie watched as he sucked her heaving breast deeply in his mouth. The mere sight of it burned her from the inside out, intensifying her desire for climax even further.
“Please fuck me,” she begged, determined to get what she wanted as soon as possible.
He ignored
her request, pulling narrow pink vibrator from his table of sexual implements. With a flick of his finger, he turned it on. The sound of vibration filled the otherwise silent room, sending a chill down her spine as he touched it to her breast. He traced the outline of her nipple with the vibrating cylinder.
Leslie's back arched as she flexed her inner muscles, her eyes fixed on the stimulating touch of the sex toy. She felt a trickle of juice trickle from her pussy down the cheek of her bum, wetting the table beneath her. Donald made a circle around her breast with the pink plastic toy, slowly bringing it down towards her crotch at an agonizing pace. Leslie felt her stomach pull inwards as she inched her hips towards her face, her ankles jerking against the metal shackles strapped to her ankles.
Her mouth dropped open as she felt the vibrations travel from her stomach to her snatch, the first tingles of stimulation nearly sending her over the edge. Donald pulled away the toy quickly, his eyes on her every move. She looked at him submissively, her body writhing in desire on the table in front of him.
“That's not fair,” she whined, her voice suddenly seductive.
“I told you,” he said. “We do this on my time.”
He set the vibrator to the side, pulling a length of rope from the table. It was a long rope, but thin. With a practiced hand, he wrapped it around her breasts in a figure eight pattern, looping it tightly around her back and shoulders. It compacted the sensitive flesh around her breasts, cutting off the circulation and turning them several shades darker. Her tits stuck out, nearly upright as she suddenly felt nearly orgasmic stimulation from the impact of every slight movement against her exposed breasts.
“You have such nice tits,” Donald said, softly caressing her dark red breasts.
Leslie gasped as he traced the outline of her nipple, the light touch sending a shock of bliss through her body. Her mouth dropped open as she stared at his finger, her vision tunneling into the contact point between their two bodies. So sensitive was her chest, she moaned in ecstasy as he gripped her tightly in the palm of his rough hand. Her breasts felt like they were balloons filled nearly to overflowing, ready to burst at the slightest hint of too much pressure.
EROTICA BOX SET - A Night To Remember (BDSM, Bondage, Domination) Page 5
