Fionna was feeling extremely nervous as they entered the playroom, but she was pleasantly surprised when Steve untied her hands. She rubbed her wrists, staring at them, mesmerised by the marks the ropes had left on her skin.
"You can take off those nipple clamps as well if you like," he said as he went over to one of the equipment racks, "they're not doing a lot for me."
"Thank you, Sir," Fionna replied with relief, easing the metal clips off. Moments later, she screwed up her face and tried to breathe through the pain as the blood flowed back into the pinched flesh, sending urgent alarm signals shooting from the reawakened nerve endings. She covered her nipples with her hands, trying to nurse them back to health, but she found that all she could do was just endure it as she waited for the pain to pass.
"Now take off your clothes," he said evenly.
"What?! No! Please, I don't want to!" Fionna protested. Without changing his calm expression, Steve signalled to one of the waitresses to come over.
"Would you take her clothes to the cloakroom, please," he said to the blonde in her mid-twenties. "If she doesn't take them off and give them to you in the next two minutes, take her to the cloakroom and have Garth deal with her." Fionna looked between the two of them beseechingly, but each was just looking at her, waiting for her to comply. She realised she didn't really have an option - she had been given an order by a Dominant and, if she didn't obey, she would be in all sorts of trouble. Reluctantly, she started to remove her clothes.
When she had stripped, she handed her clothes, including her boots, to the waitress, who swiftly disappeared with them. Steve was standing before her and took her hand, fastening a leather cuff around her wrist. The cuff had a strap attached to it which lay across her palm and extended to just beyond her fingertips, ending with a metal ring. He secured a similar cuff to her other wrist, leaving her wondering what the straps were intended to do.
She soon found out. Steve took hold of a controller which was hanging by its wire and Fionna heard the whir of an electric motor. A wooden bar appeared before her, attached to a chain which was descending from the ceiling. It stopped at shoulder height, and Steve put the rings on the wrist cuffs into clips at either end of the bar, so that Fionna's hands were now held about three feet apart. He pressed a button on the controller and the bar began to rise again, taking Fionna's arms with it, until she was stretched out, arms above her, balancing on the balls of her feet. She felt incredibly self-conscious yet, at the same time, very turned on as he looked her up and down as if assessing her body, then nodded approvingly. When he turned away to the equipment rack again, she allowed herself a smile of pride at his reaction.
"You have a very beautiful body, Chaindoll," he said, running his fingers down her side, from her armpit to her hip. "You also have a very pretty face, but I don't need to see that at the moment." As he said this, he quickly brought something towards her, and she suddenly found herself plunged into darkness as he pulled the leather hood over her head.
Fionna's mind filled with terror as the blackness devoured her, the smooth surface of the leather pressing against her skin. As the hood assumed its correct position, she realised that she was not in complete darkness; there were two slits, one in front of each eye, which allowed in light. As she adjusted to this restriction of her vision, she found that she could see out. The slits seemed to be edged with some kind of jagged metal, but she couldn't work out what it was.
As Steve laced the hood in place, it squeezed tighter and tighter against her face, forehead, cranium, giving her the sensation of being in the world's smallest prison. She noticed that there was still a small degree of flexibility around her jaw and, on a hunch, she stuck out her tongue, finding that there was a third slit. Feeling along the edge of it with her tongue, she realised that the edging was the teeth of a zip. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she knew that meant that she could be instantly and completely isolated from the outside world.
"Please, Sir," she whined plaintively, "please don't do this! I'm scared! This scares me!"
"I'm sure it does," Steve responded coolly, "but this is about my enjoyment, not your comfort. I think that's enough from you for now." Fionna suddenly felt something being forced past her teeth, something soft which seemed to expand to fill every corner of her mouth, then the zip was pulled shut, trapping her desperate screams inside the hood. To her horror, the zips over her eyes were also closed, shutting out the last vestige of light.
Deprived of her vision, Fionna tried to use her other senses to work out what was happening. She strained to hear something which might give her a clue, but it was her sense of touch which flooded her with fresh input. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring it, delving into her secret places. It felt wonderful, and she squirmed delightedly under his touch, sometimes feather-light and teasing, tickling, sometimes firm, grabbing, grasping and groping her soft flesh. When his fingertips brushed against her pussy, she thrust her hips forward wantonly, mutely urging him to go further and assuage the burning desire within her.
She realised that, whatever the hood was doing for him, it was having a major effect on her. It seemed that, hidden behind the impenetrable, de-personalising facade, she was able to lose all her inhibitions and, without her voice, could only use her body to express herself. She knew she was behaving like a 'brazen hussy', as her mother would have put it, but not only was she not ashamed, she was being turned on by her own outrageous behaviour.
When his hands withdrew, she felt a sense of loss and tried, with inarticulate, muted vocalisations and lewd, sensual movements of her body, to encourage him to continue, but to no avail. Eventually, she became still and waited to find out what he would do next, her sense of excitement and anticipation rising as the lull in activity stretched to the point where she wondered if he had abandoned her.
Suddenly, her dark, silent world exploded in a blizzard of sensation. She felt a sudden, sharp pain as something slapped against her right buttock, making her buck away, arching her back and squealing into the gag. She had hardly had time to process the shock of this unexpected, and unwelcome, development when she was struck again, even harder, this time on the front of her left thigh. Again she screamed and twisted in her bondage, trying desperately to avoid the assault.
Steve smiled to himself as he watched her dancing before him, totally at his mercy. This was why he loved to deprive his sub of her vision, so that she would always be taken by surprise, always trying to guess where the next blow would land, and always failing. He took careful aim and delivered the leather tongue of the riding crop with a skillful flick of the wrist, flexing the fibreglass shaft so that it hit her left buttock with a loud slap. He listened to her muffled cries and watched her writhing body with rising excitement, allowing his free hand to brush against the bulge in his jeans.
Again and again he brought the crop down on her, targeting unexpected and increasingly sensitive areas of her body - the small of her back, stomach, abdomen, inner thighs, just below her armpits, the backs of her knees. Finally he focused on her breasts and nipples, until he could tell that she was completely distraught, her cries having become racking sobs, her movements just reflex reactions to the impacts. He felt a surge of sexual power building within him as he approached the climax of this phase of her torment.
He circled her, allowing her a few moments to recover and for her fear of what was to come to grow, examining her body for any damage. There was none, as he had expected, given the design of the crop to deliver a short, painful reminder without marking the skin of the horse or, in this case, the lovely young woman restrained in front of him.
Fionna looked around blindly, wondering where her tormentor was and what he intended to do to her next. Maybe the attack had finished, she thought, maybe he was ready to move on to other things, more pleasurable things for her. Maybe-
She gave a full-throated scream as she was hit squarely on her shaved pubis, sending electric jolts of pain flashing through her body. Tears ran down her face in the blackness of the hood and she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to come to terms with the agony she was experiencing. What the fuck was with this guy, she thought bitterly. Why would he do that?
Satisfied that she had entertained him sufficiently with her suffering, he put down the riding crop and used the controller to raise her into the air, lifting her feet off the floor and bringing her to his level. Watching her grab at the straps of the suspension cuffs to support her weight as she twisted slowly at the end of the chain, he pulled down his jeans and shorts, releasing his now-throbbing erection.
He took one of the club condoms and rolled it onto his penis. It was a strict club rule that unprotected penetration was forbidden without express and explicit permission from the sub, which he'd always thought was a good rule - it was for his protection as much as hers.
Now more than ready, he grabbed her thighs, lifted her and pulled her towards him. Without ceremony, he dropped her onto his shaft whilst thrusting upwards, penetrating her deeply and bringing a scream of shock from her. He bounced her up and down vigourously, watching her breasts jiggle enticingly before him as her leather-covered, featureless head lolled back and forth, side to side. He felt her legs grip him around the waist, her ankles crossing behind him.
For Fionna , it was the most amazing sex she had ever had. After the initial shock and immediate pain of his brutal entry, she had quickly become lubricated enough to render his violent thrusting a source of intense pleasure. She had always fantasised about being taken firmly by some strong, attractive stranger, but never like this. This was more, so much more, then she had ever dreamed of. It could be thought of as nonconsensual rape - how could she give consent when she was gagged? – but her whole body was giving her consent.
Steve continued relentlessly, fucking her as hard and as rough as he could, using her as his fuck toy. He liked to abuse women, it's what got him off. But as he approached his orgasm, he realised it wasn't going the way he expected, the way it had with every other girl he treated like this, as if they were nothing but worthless fuck meat. She should be suffering, distressed and humiliated by this whole experience.
But he could tell that this girl, despite the anonymous leather hood removing all expression, was enjoying this. It wasn't right! In a fit of petulant anger, he thrust into her even harder and faster but, rather than protesting, he felt her thighs grip him even more tightly, and he realised that she was riding him to her own climax.
She threw her head back, crying out in her ecstasy as the orgasm exploded at the same moment that he filled the condom. She screwed her eyes shut tight, but bursts of light streamed across her visual cortex like fireworks blossoming in the sky. The sensations seemed to go on forever and her body was so tense, every muscle so tight, that she felt like she would break. Then, in an instant, it was over, and she slumped limply, hanging from the bar like a rag doll.
Steve was in a bad mood as he released Fionna from the bar, and she slid to her knees. Angrily, he restrained her arms behind her back, using two belts, one around her wrists, the other just below her elbows, both pulled cruelly tight. He didn't bother to remove the hood, not wanting to see the smug expression he imagined was on her face. He dragged her along by the leash, back to the bar, and left her there, wandering away to see if he could find someone who might enjoy his harsh treatment a little less.
Ten minutes or so had passed before Fionna realised that she had been deserted. At first, she felt rather hurt, wondering what she had done wrong to make Steve just abandon her. But as she thought more about it, she decided that it probably wasn't her fault, it was just that he had got what he wanted and had then made her available for someone else to use. She realised now that Tina had done exactly the same thing - used her, then passed her on. For Fionna, it was like she had just had two one-night stands in just a couple of hours!
Strangely, she didn't feel anything like she usually did after a one-night stand. She had had some great sex, she'd had her first girl-on-girl experience, and she was learning about BDSM. What's not to like, she thought. I wonder what will happen next? She didn't have long to wait.
She was suddenly grabbed under each armpit and marched towards the playroom, her feet hardly touching the floor. Two pairs of hands, she thought. Two men? Two women? A fetish couple? She realised it made no difference, there was nothing she could do about it anyway.
She was pressed against something, a wooden surface she decided. She was grateful when her arms were released from the belts holding them rather painfully behind her back, but she didn't even have time to flex them before they were pulled up over her head and straps applied around her wrists, pinning them to the wood. When her legs were pulled apart and her ankles similarly restrained, she realised she must be on the cross, the St Andrews cross, she had seen in the playroom before. Her level of anxiety and fear rose sharply as she suspected that this was a whipping station.
Her suspicions were quickly confirmed, as her two attackers took position on either side of her, each having selected one of the club's floggers - multiple strands of soft leather designed to deliver as much pain as the user wanted to dole out without breaking or permanently marking the skin of the victim.
They started on her shoulder blades, and soon had her screaming into the gag and mask, struggling desperately to get free but only succeeding in wriggling and writhing seductively for her audience.
When the skin there started to redden, they redirected the flails at her waist, before moving down to her buttocks and thighs. They swung the floggers alternately, giving their submissive no respite, no chance to deal with one blow before the next arrived. The two dominants smiled at each other, enjoying the muffled cries and whimpers coming from the masked girl in front of them, and redoubled their efforts.
Fionna had never suffered pain like it. Tears streamed from her eyes as she screamed and sobbed forlornly into the unyielding leather imprisoning her head. Once more, phantom lights were blazing before her in the darkness, but for an entirely different, and much less pleasant, reason. Her skin was glowing as if it was on fire as the lashing continued.
It finally came to an end, and she was barely hanging on to her consciousness. When the straps binding her were released, she would have fallen on the floor if she hadn't been held up. That was awful, she thought, but at least it's over and I survived. But, to her horror, she was turned around and pushed back against the cross once more, her wrists and ankles rebound, and this time the front of her body was exposed for flogging!
There was no mercy, as the leather thongs beat down on her breasts, then her stomach and, finally, across her hips and thighs. It proved too much for her and, eventually, she passed out, overcome by the shock of the leather striking her tender pussy lips. Her body ceased its futile dance and her head lolled forward on her chest. Her attackers checked that she was still breathing freely and, having had their fun, returned to the bar.
Fionna recovered consciousness a few minutes later, her whole body aching, although the intensity of the pain quickly dissipated, leaving her feeling as if she had a serious and uncomfortable case of sunburn. On her personal chart of experiences for the night, that had certainly not been her favourite, that was for sure. But, astonishingly, she found herself looking on it as further education in BDSM, rather than a trauma she would do anything to avoid in the future. What is wrong with me, she thought. I'm sick! A complete pervert!
"What have we here?" a male voice close by her said, "an unoccupied submissive, just lazing around? We'd better change that!" Oh no, please, no more, Fionna thought, I need a break! She shook her head and made a few pleading noises into the gag but, unsurprisingly, it had no effect.
She was taken down from the cross but she wasn't free for long. Her arms were pulled behind her and forced into a leather armbinder, although she had no idea what it was at the time. With the palms of her hands pressed together, she felt the leather pulled up to her armpits, and the retaining straps passed over her shoulders, crossing between her breasts. They were buckled to the single glove underneath, making it impossible for her to shrug it off. Gradually, as the laces were cinched, the glove gripped her tighter, forcing her forearms together and her shoulders back.
She felt a cuff being strapped around one ankle, then her feet pushed apart until she was starting to do the splits, and a cuff applied to her other ankle. She tried to pull her feet back together so that she could stand more comfortably, but she now realised that there was some kind of bar attached between the cuffs, forcing her to keep her legs spread.
She heard the sound of the motor again and, a few moments later, felt her arms behind her being raised up into the air. Gradually, the single glove was winched up until she was forced to bend over and, by the time the motor fell silent, she was held in a horizontal position, her arms virtually pointing at the ceiling. Fionna felt incredibly vulnerable now, her legs wide apart and her ass presented for who knew what treatment. She feared another thrashing, but this time she had it wrong.
"I think it's time for you to earn your keep, slut," the man said. He pulled the zip over her mouth open and prized the gag from between her teeth.
"Now, you're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sir," Fionna murmured as she felt something brush against her lips, immediately knowing what it was, and what this latest Dom expected her to do with it. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth and allowed him to slide his erect cock all the way in, until her nose was pressing against his abdomen.
He was already hard as steel but, with skilled use of her lips and tongue, she soon had him panting with pent-up excitement. He began to groan in ecstasy as she gave him one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had. She tickled and teased, licked and sucked, until he could take no more. He took hold of her featureless, leather-covered head and thrust frantically into her mouth until, letting out a strangled cry, he climaxed, spurting like a fountain.
Fionna, cheeks bulging, turned her head to one side to spit out his copious seed. But, just as she was about to do it, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, thumb and forefinger pinching her nose closed.
"Don't you dare, slut," he growled, "you swallow that like it's the finest wine you ever tasted!" Struggling for breath, Fionna realised she had no choice and, trying to ignore the foul taste, she swallowed it all.
"You give good head, slut," the man said as he loosened the laces at the back of the hood, "what's your name?"
"Chaindoll, Sir," she replied uncertainly. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, but she couldn't pin it down.
"Hmm, nice," he said, finally removing the leather hood and he looked into her face. It was red and blotchy after its confinement, her hair flattened by the hood and plastered to her forehead and cheeks by sweat, and there were black streaks where her mascara had run and marked out the tracks of her tears. Her lips, slightly parted, glistened with the black lipstick but, at the corners of her mouth, small traces of his cum still lingered. Despite all this, or possibly because of it, he thought she looked more beautiful than the first time he had seen her.
"But I prefer… Fifi!"
Fionna blinked, temporarily blinded by the bright lights, and she struggled to focus on the figure squatting down before her. But she didn't need to see, she had already identified him.
"Oh my God! Doug?!" she exclaimed, horrified, "what the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm a member," he smiled, casually brushing the stray hairs out of her face, "my parents don't realise it, but they're paying my membership when they pay my tuition fees. So you could say, my mom and dad just paid for you to suck me off! I'm so glad you accepted my invitation."
"Invitation?" Fionna queried in confusion, "what do you mean?"
"That flyer, I left it," he smirked, his hands moving down to grope her hanging breasts, "I'm particularly proud of the insert I wrote, targeted only at you. I hoped you'd come tonight, maybe just to find out what it was all about, but I never expected you to join in so enthusiastically!"
"Join in?!" she spat, "I didn't have a choice! They threatened to send me to Garth and…"
"And what? What did you expect him to do?" Doug scoffed, "throw you in the deep, dark dungeon he doesn't have? Call the cops?! 'Oh, officer, please arrest this girl, she won't let us tie her up and have sex with her'? No, I think you always wanted to find out what it's like to be a submissive, so you went along with it. With all of it." Fionna blushed furiously, knowing deep down that he was absolutely right.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked nervously, "let me go… please?"
"Soon, but not quite yet," he said, walking around behind her and patting her rump, "there's one more thing I've always wanted to do with you." He prized apart her buttocks and squirted lubricant along her crack, working it into her anus with his finger.
"Oh, please, don't do that, Doug," Fionna whined, "I've never let anybody do that to me!"
"That's okay, Fifi," Doug replied as he rolled the condom onto his restored erection, "you're not letting me do it now. That's the joy of this place, I don't have to ask your permission." As he said this, he thrust into her, bringing a pained cry from her lips.
Fionna gritted her teeth and tried to shut out the sensations as he unceremoniously humped her, violating her in a way she had thought was sacrosanct, certainly something to which she would never willingly submit. She felt her breasts jiggling below her as he banged into her, hard and fast, only managing to remain on her feet because of the rope holding her arms and his tight grip on her hips. The air was repeatedly driven from her lungs, making her gasp and grunt, until he finally finished.
"Well, this has been amazing, Fifi," Doug said as he released the armbinder from the hoist and removed the spreader bar between her ankles, "you really are as good a fuck as I always imagined. But don't worry, I won't be telling anyone about this. What happens in the club, stays in the club." He turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to take this thing off me?" Fionna asked, turning and proffering her leather-bound arms to him, "I need to leave as well, you know."
"Nah," he replied dismissively, "get Garth to do it when you go pick up your clothes. See you Monday." And, with that, he walked away, leaving Fionna to watch in dismay. She started after him, wanting to persuade him to release her, to make sure that he really meant it, about this remaining a secret. But as she followed him, she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Hey there, girl, don't run away," she heard as she was turned around to face a man smiling darkly at her, "me and my friends want to… get to know you a little better." The man was, she thought, in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, and he was flanked by three others, all looking at her expectantly.
"Please, Sir," Fionna begged forlornly, "I'm so tired, I need to go home!"
"There's another hour before this place closes," the man said, looking at his watch, "until then, you're ours to do with as we please, slut." He pushed her roughly down to her knees, and the four of them formed a circle around her. She looked up at them pleadingly, but saw only dispassionate lust written across their faces. As they each unfastened their trousers, she unconsciously licked her lips in anticipation…
Garth looked at his watch as he stifled a yawn. Just a few more minutes, then he could go home to his welcoming bed. This place was hard work, but it made so much money and the constant parade of good-looking women in sexy outfits was so alluring, he never regretted having started it, or the long hours he put in.
He heard a loud noise, and looked over at the door into the club. Someone, or something, had banged into it from the inside, and now he could see the lever handle moving as someone tried to open it. It flicked back up and the door remained shut, so he walked over to find out what was going on.
He opened the door and a body fell out into the hall, sprawling at his feet. He recognised the cute Goth girl he had allowed in earlier, but she looked a little different now. She was naked, as he knew she would be, as one of his staff had given him her clothes for safekeeping, and her arms were encased in one of the single gloves provided by the club.
He could see the lingering marks where she had been flogged, but the most obvious sign of her evening's ordeal was the copious amounts of semen splattered on her. It was all over her face, in her hair, and across her breasts.
"Little help here?" she croaked, looking up at him hopefully. Her words snapped Garth out of his stupor, and he helped her to her feet, unbuckling and removing the armbinder. He found a towel and handed it to her while he went off to retrieve her clothes.
"You've had quite a night, I hear," he said as she got dressed, "people have been coming up to me all night and saying 'who's the new girl, the sexy Goth?' One person even congratulated me on providing you as entertainment. It got me to thinking. How would you like to come work here?"
"What?!" Fionna said, looking sharply at him, "as what?"
"I dunno what we'd call it," Garth responded thoughtfully, "hostess? Maybe the 'Club Sub'? You'd be doing just what you did tonight, except you'd be paid for it."
"You want me to whore myself out? For money?!" Fionna exclaimed in horror, "that's disgusting! I couldn't do that!" Garth looked at her, judging whether her indignation was sincere, or just a knee-jerk reaction.
"You a student?" he asked, receiving a nod in response. "Lots of girls these days pay their way through college working as call girls, strippers, or pole dancers. This wouldn't be any different, except that you'd be doing something you really enjoyed. You did enjoy yourself tonight, didn't you?" She blushed and remained quiet for a long time.
"Yes… Yes I did," Fionna replied thoughtfully, absent-mindedly rubbing the gobs of dried cum out of her hair while, in her mind, an argument raged. Unfortunately, the 'voice of reason' had taken on the shrill tones of her mother.
"How can you even be considering this, Fionna?!" the voice was saying, "those people in there, they don't care about you! They don't care about your feelings, only their own pleasure! They were using you! And using you in the most filthy, degrading way possible, for the worst kind of perverted sex! You'd be insane to submit to that again!"
If this had been a real argument, it would have ended there, with them screaming at each other and Fionna storming off to her room, leaving her mother to celebrate a victory for Tough Parenting by hitting the gin. But it wasn't real, so Fionna got to present the alternative view.
"The thing is, I agree with most of that," she was thinking, "I know they don't care about me, or my feelings, and that they are just using me. But that just turns me on like crazy. It turns out that I love being used, and filthy, degrading, perverted sex - well, that's just the best sex! The whole thing about being dominated, being tied up and forced to do whatever someone else wants me to do, I find irresistible! Even when it's someone like Doug, someone I hate in the 'real' world, well, that just makes it even more humiliating and therefore even more exhilarating!"
"Okay," she said defiantly, looking up at Garth, "I'll give it a go! I'll become the club's resident Bondage Barbie!"
"That's great!" Garth exclaimed delightedly, but with a degree of astonishment that she had been persuaded so easily. But then he realised he hadn't persuaded her at all, she had done it all by herself.
"You'd better go home and get some sleep," he growled, mock-sternly, "you start work tonight."
"Yes, Master!" Fionna smiled, before skipping outside into the light of the early dawn…
THE END