The young German business consultant worked diligently through the outstanding issues for her client accounts until the phone on her desk rang.
“Your 2 o’clock appointment has arrived, ” the receptionist informed her. She made her way to the reception area and saw the woman waiting for her, flicking through a magazine. As she approached, the visitor looked up at her, then stood and held out her hand.
“Wow, you really are a tall lady!” she said as they shook hands. The young woman frowned. There was something very familiar about that phrase, but she couldn’t quite place it. Shaking the confusion from her head, she led her prospective client into the meeting room and poured coffee for both of them. They sat, and she consulted her notes.
“How may I help you, Fräulein…” she began, but the other woman interrupted her.
“Oh, no need to be so formal,” she said, “just call me Jenny.”
“I’m sorry,” the consultant said in confusion, “that’s not the name I have here. I have-“
“That’s probably just my real name,” the strange woman interrupted breezily, “that is so tedious, wouldn’t you agree… Amelia?”
“W-what?!” the German spluttered, feeling her face redden with embarrassment. “I… That’s not… Why did you say that?!”
“I love that name - Amelia Lecroix. So wonderfully dangerous and sexy, just like you! So much better than a boring fixation on reality.”
“Oh my God!” ‘Amelia’ exclaimed on hearing the name she used only when interacting on certain, select websites. “You’re…” Her voice trailed off as she considered the implications of her sudden realisation.
“I’m Jenny Harrison, yes,” the Englishwoman confirmed. Amelia’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
“How?” she managed to ask eventually, her brain still spinning at this development.
“I really admired your honesty with me when we first corresponded,” Jenny smiled, “but you really shouldn’t have sent me that link to your details on Linked In, it led me straight here.”
“But… What are you doing here?” Amelia asked nervously. All her dealings with ‘Jenny Harrison’ had, until now, been through the anonymity of the Internet, but she had nevertheless established a strange, remote Dominant-submissive relationship with her. Yet here they were, sitting in the same room, and the younger woman wondered what impact that relationship would have now.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Jenny laughed, “I’m not going to embarrass or humiliate you in front of your work colleagues, or your friends and family.” The young woman believed this was a sincere statement and felt hugely relieved, although just the way the author of so many bondage and discipline stories had said the words ‘embarrass’ and ‘humiliate you’ made her heart race and started a warm tingling sensation down below.
“The ‘cover story’ I gave to your boss is actually true. I was approached by a group of German investors looking to start a club in these parts. They had read my work, and felt sure I could contribute some ideas. It came up in conversation that they would need expert help in setting up the business, and I immediately thought of you. So, here I am to find out whether you’d be interested in working for them.”
Amelia realised that any club which used Jenny Harrison as a creative consultant must be pretty extreme, and that thought inflamed her already burgeoning arousal.
“What is the theme for this club?” she asked nonchalantly, trying to mask her intense interest.
“It’s called Club Fantasia. It will be a BDSM club, where people with similar and complementary fetishes can meet, but with a specialty in satisfying the secret desires of women in a safe environment.
“The business model is based on paid memberships and bar profits, plus they will offer a unique service, at premium rates of course, where a woman can specify their deepest, darkest fantasies, and the club will make it happen, however extreme it might be. Is that something that might interest you?”
“I think you already know the answer to that!” Amelia replied quietly. What had started out as a tingle in her loins was now a raging fire within the statuesque consultant.
“Excellent! ” Jenny responded, clapping her hands in excitement. “The investors would like to interview you to assess your suitability to handle their business. If you make a good impression, I think they are ready to sign a consultancy contract with your company. I am meeting with them on Saturday, so would be able to help you prepare beforehand, just to ensure that it all goes perfectly. Shall we say 2 o’clock? We can meet at my hotel and then go to the club together.”
“Yes, that would be very helpful,” the younger woman nodded, “thank you, Jenny.”
“You’re welcome,” Jenny smiled, getting up, “until Saturday, then.”
* * * * *
The rest of the week became something of a trial for the over-excited young German. Concentrating on her work was difficult when all she could think about was the upcoming weekend, and her interview with the mysterious investors in a bondage-themed club, the first of its kind in this part of the country. She wondered what sort of questions they would ask, but came to the conclusion that running a sex club was pretty much the same as running any other business.
She fretted about what she should wear to make an impression, finally settling on a smart business suit, wanting to present herself as a serious professional. She gave herself plenty of time to drive the sixty kilometres from home to the city where the club was located, and found herself waiting nervously in the hotel reception for her English mentor to come down from her room.
“Oh dear, this won’t do,” Jenny frowned when she saw Amelia, “you’re not meeting a bunch of boring businessmen! These people are investing in a BDSM club, they want to see smart and sexy, not uptight and prissy! They need to feel that you understand what their business is all about.”
Amelia realised that she had made a bad mistake and, from her friend’s reaction, feared that it would be fatal to her chances of securing this very interesting and lucrative engagement. Much to her own surprise, not having appreciated just how much she wanted this assignment, she began to sob quietly but uncontrollably.
“There, there, don’t cry, sweetie,” Jenny comforted her, putting an arm around her shoulders, “we can fix this. Come on! We’re going shopping!” Bemused, the young woman followed the Englishwoman as she walked out of the hotel and into the city.
A few minutes later, she found herself standing in the womenswear section of a major department store, with Jenny looking through the racks of cocktail dresses. Eventually, she selected one and thrust it towards Amelia.
“I can’t wear this!” she exclaimed, looking with alarm at the bright red material and the style of the garment. “Even if I could, I would need the next size up.”
“It’s fine,” Jenny said sternly, “now go and put it on!” Amelia reluctantly took the hanger and headed for the changing cubicles.
She took off her jacket, skirt and blouse, then squeezed into the tiny cocktail dress and looked at herself in the mirror. I look ridiculous, she thought, I can’t go out in public like this! The halterneck style meant that most parts of her black bra were on show, and the hem of the dress barely covered the gusset of her pantyhose. Miserably, she pulled back the curtain and showed herself to Jenny.
“Well, you certainly can’t wear it with that underwear,” Jenny scowled, “go back in, take off your undergarments and put these on instead.” She handed the German a small store bag, indicating that this was a recent purchase.
When Amelia looked in the bag, she found it contained only a pair of red panties so brief they would hardly cover the essentials. She seriously considered abandoning the whole idea of the club at that point, telling herself that she should just get dressed, apologise to her friend, and go home. She would save herself all the embarrassment she knew she would suffer if she continued down this route.
But something stopped her. Was it that she didn’t want to disobey Jenny? Was it that she desperately wanted to see this club? Or was it the perverse feeling of excitement she was experiencing at the thought of that self-same embarrassment? She didn’t know but, rather than storming out, she meekly stripped, wriggled into the tiny panties, pulled on the dress, and checked herself in the mirror one last time.
The thin, almost gauze-like material was stretched across her large breasts, barely able to contain them, and clearly displaying the bumps of her erect nipples beneath. Her back was completely bare, and the expanse of her long legs, from the tops of her thighs down to her incongruously plain shoes, were naked.
“You look magnificent,” Jenny enthused when she finally emerged, “except for those. To the Shoe Department!”
Ten minutes later, Amelia tottered out of the store on red strappy sandals with 15 cm high heels, blushing bright red as she looked at the Saturday afternoon crowds bustling around the mall. Ever since, at puberty, she had shot up to her adult height of just under 1.9 metres tall, and immediately became the victim of teasing and bullying from the whole school, including teachers, she had tried to avoid attracting attention, by keeping quiet and dressing in dull, shapeless clothes. But now, here she was, parading herself in front of all these people, in the most revealing and attention-seeking outfit imaginable.
And people were certainly giving her attention. They stared openly at her with a mixture of amazement, disapproval and lust, making whispered comments to each other or, in some cases, not so whispered. She was mortified with embarrassment at what she heard.
“Wow, it’s Wonder Woman’s big sister!”
“No, it’s the girl from Monsters versus Aliens!”
“Whatever. Just look at those tits! Fucking enormous!”
She had to push her way through the mob and, more than once, stray hands brushed against her breasts, thighs and buttocks, occasionally pinching or squeezing as they did so. Amelia felt like some kind of animal in a petting zoo but, at the same time, her arousal was skyrocketing. She certainly didn’t want to be turned on by such public humiliation, but she had absolutely no control over her body’s reaction.
Eventually, they reached the exit of the shopping mall, and Jenny took pity on her companion, flagging down a taxi to take them the rest of the way to the club. The driver had difficulty taking his eyes off the rearview mirror for the entire journey, but they made it without crashing.
They pulled up in front of a non-descript building, which they entered through an unmarked door. Inside, a dimly lit corridor led to another door and, when they went through it, Amelia felt like they had walked into Aladdin’s cave. She marvelled open-mouthed at the wonders around her.
The main body of the room was taken up by round tables, each with a small lamp in the centre. One wall was entirely taken up by a bar, while at the far end of the room where a small dance floor and DJ mixing desk. So far, so normal.
The three remaining walls were decorated with racks of bondage and torture equipment - chains, ropes, straps, whips, canes, paddles, and so on. Along the wall opposite the bar, a number of devices were lined up - St Andrew’s cross, rack, stocks, crucifix, and a platform from which a wooden stake rose. The lighting was from flicker-effect electric lights which had been made to look like flaming torches fixed in iron brackets along the walls. It was a fair approximation of a mediaeval torture chamber.
“What do you think?” Jenny asked, although she could already guess at the effect this was having on the German girl, who seemed unable to bring herself to speak. “Let me show you in more detail.”
She led Amelia over to the equipment and encouraged her to touch everything, letting her tactile sense add another dimension to the experience. For her part, Amelia felt the weight of the chains, the roughness of the ropes, the thickness of the leather restraints, and imagined herself in their tight embrace. She ran her hands over the sturdy wooden torture devices, and imagined herself locked and immobile, helpless to resist…
Jenny steered her to the platform and helped her climb the two steps onto it. They looked out into the body of the room, over the tables set out below and, as she could only stand and stare, Jenny gently moved her back, until she felt the stake behind her.
“Imagine what it would be like if the room was full,” Jenny murmured in her ear from behind her, while massaging her shoulders, “imagine you were on display, being devoured by their hungry eyes…” As she spoke in honeyed tones, her hands slowly moved down Amelia’s arms, imperceptibly drawing them together behind her, until…
Click-click. Snapping out of the distracted reverie into which she had fallen while contemplating what the Englishwoman was saying, Amelia tried to pull her hands forward, only to realise that they were locked together in the steel embrace of handcuffs, trapping her against the post at her back. As she struggled to come to terms with this, she felt a wide belt being tightened around her arms, just above her elbows, pulling them closer together and forcing her back against the wooden stake.
“W-what are you doing, Jenny?” she asked in alarm, struggling in vain to get free. “You’re hurting me! Please let me g-MMMMPH!“
Her protestations were cut off by the forceful introduction of a large, soft ball into her mouth, lodging behind her teeth, held in place by a strap buckled tightly behind her head. As she tried to push the ball out with her tongue and, when that failed, tried to speak around it, her eyes were covered by a cloth tied around her head, leaving her completely blind.
“I hope this is helping you to imagine,” Amelia heard Jenny whisper into her ear, “everyone staring at you, restrained and… exposed.” She felt the halter of her dress being untied and the front falling away, leaving her breasts completely uncovered. The zip at the waist was now unfastened, and the whole garment pulled down until it fell on the floor.
She was now dressed in only the brief pair of panties, but not for long, as they quickly followed the dress to the floor. She struggled frantically against her bonds, but with no chance of success. She felt each of her ankles gripped and locked into manacles, holding her legs wide apart, completing her bondage and forced display.
“You look absolutely delectable, darling,” she heard Jenny say from in front of her, “good enough to eat!” She felt hands now roaming her nakedness, fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding across her stomach and toying with her smooth, waxed mound. She let out a muffled, inarticulate moan when the exploring fingers spread her labia wide and stroked her throbbing clitoris. Suddenly, there was a banging noise off to her left, in the direction of the door through which they had entered earlier.
“Don’t worry if you hear some noises off,” Jenny whispered as she nibbled on Amelia’s ear and continued to play with her swollen nub, “that’s just the guys getting ready for this evening. Oh, did I forget to mention that tonight is the opening night? In a couple of hours, this place really will be full of new members eager to see what entertainment is on offer. Unfortunately, I have to go and meet with the investors, but I’ll be back later to see how you’re getting on. Enjoy!”
Amelia screamed with all her might into the gag, shaking her head violently and, once more, fighting frantically to break free, achieving precisely nothing. She heard footsteps walking away, jumping down from the platform, and receding towards the door. She realised that she was alone… for now.
Eventually, her incessant struggling to free herself left her exhausted, and it was all she could do to stand on her shaking legs. Her feet, still strapped into the high heels, ached terribly. Her arms, strapped and cuffed in such an unnatural position, hurt immensely. But her worst torment was from the humiliation she was suffering, and which would rise exponentially as the nightmare of Opening Night unfolded.
She heard people – men - moving around the room, bringing who-knew-what into the club. They didn’t speak or approach her, so Amelia could only imagine that they were taking time to view her naked body as it wriggled and writhed before them.
As time passed slowly, she kept thinking bitterly of how she had been tricked into this horrible situation. She had confessed her darkest fantasies to ‘Jenny’ on the Internet, never thinking that they would ever meet. But now, here she was, in that fantasy, one of total humiliation, and there was nothing she could do to escape it. She dreaded to think just how far this would go.
It must have been hours later when she heard the doors open and what sounded like a large crowd move into the room, heading her way, chatting excitedly. Odd phrases and snippets of conversation became clear as they approached.
“Oh my, this looks interesting! She must be the entertainment they talked about on the invite.”
“I wonder who she is? Some kind of porn actress, I would guess. Must specialise in BDSM.”
“Doesn’t she look amazing?! I love the way her bondage forces her into such a stress position!”
Amelia felt like she would die of embarrassment as the crowd passed comment on every aspect of what they saw in front of them, some complementary, others less so. Gradually, they settled down, taking their seats, ready for the show they had been promised.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” a woman’s amplified voice announced and, from her accent and fluent German, Amelia immediately knew it wasn’t Jenny. “Welcome to Club Fantasia. As you know, what we hope to do here is to satisfy women’s fantasies. The young woman you see before you told us of her fantasy which, happily, involves all of you. We hope you will enjoy watching the rest of her fantasy play out.”
There was a smattering of applause, and Amelia assumed that the woman had finished her introduction. What next, she wondered, a knot of fear and excitement forming in her stomach. She was hating everything that she was suffering, yet…
The German girl blinked under the spotlights as the blindfold was suddenly ripped away. When her eyes adjusted to the bright lights, she found herself looking out over the darkened room, and could just see that, around each table with its little pool of light from the table lamp, sat at least four people, men and women, meaning that she was naked, bound and gagged under the excited gaze of a couple of hundred fetishists. But the horror of that realisation was soon forgotten when she saw the figure walking around the platform on which she was being presented.
A man dressed in blue-grey German army fatigues, down to his heavy combat boots, was striding around in front of her, gloved hands clasped behind his back. He had short hair, with salt and pepper greying, and must have been over two metres tall, as he looked down on Amelia with a mixture of contempt and amusement on his face.
He stepped towards her and, with no hesitation, reached out and grabbed her breast, squeezing and mauling it, making Amelia emit a stifled cry into the gag. As she tried to cope with this pain, his other hand clamped over her groin, and two leather-clad fingers thrust up into her, roughly exploring her inner sanctum. His thumb forced apart her swollen labia and rubbed her clitoris vigourously, ignoring her desperate cries.
Tears ran down the young woman’s face as his unfeeling assault continued. Yet, despite the pain, she felt her body respond to the intimate invasion by becoming more and more aroused. Distantly, she heard the audience shouting, clapping, even laughing, as she was inexorably forced towards a most unwelcome organism in front of them. Her screams at the point of climax were clearly audible, despite the muffling effect of the ballgag in her mouth, and the sweat on her chest mixed with the saliva drooling from her lips and the tears dripping from her cheeks. As wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her, she heard the rapturous applause of the crowd ringing around the room.
In her post-orgasmic haze, Amelia was grateful to feel the bonds holding her being released and, stiff and exhausted, she collapsed onto the platform. Even before she could think of trying to get up, the man grabbed her arms and tied her wrists tightly together in front of her. She could see that the rope extended up into the darkness above her and, moments later, she was dragged to her feet as her assailant hauled on the other end. He continued to pull until the naked girl was hanging by her wrists with her feet swinging inches from the floor, then tied to the rope to the post against which she had previously been secured.
As she swung helplessly at the end of the rope, twisting and turning, Amelia saw the man walk over to the nearest wall rack and take down an evil-looking multi-tailed whip, before striding back towards her and remounting the platform. She shook her head and cried out into the gag, trying to beg him not to use the vicious weapon on her.
All that came out of her mouth were inarticulate noises and a fresh flood of drool, though she was sure he understood her meaning. But, rather than show mercy, a cruel smile crossed his face, and he set himself to deliver the first blow. Amelia tried to prepare herself, to steel herself against the impending pain, but it proved futile. The leather strips slapped across her back with a resounding smack which could be heard bouncing off the walls, swiftly followed by her agonised screams.
He gave his helpless victim a thorough flogging, watching her dance on the rope as he whipped her across her back and buttocks. The crowd enjoyed the show, revelling in her desperate squeals and screams as the leather strands reddened and left angry stripes across her pale skin.
For Amelia, the whipping was far more traumatic than she could have ever imagined. The pain coursed through her body with every fresh strike, each worse than the one before, each seemingly targeted at a more sensitive area than the one before. It felt as though the stiff leather was cutting her each time it lashed against her delicate flesh, leaving a glowing aftermath of pain and throbbing ache all over her body.
When it was over, the bruised and battered girl collapsed onto the platform, once more released from her bondage. But, just when she hoped she would be left there to suffer the after-effects of the beating, she found herself dragged to her feet and across the room. She realised that a second man was now holding her and, between them, they led her to the wooden stocks she had examined earlier.
She tried to fight as they forced her into the mediaeval restraint, but she was too exhausted to resist as they locked her neck and wrists at one end, and her ankles at the other, leaving her once more helpless against their assault.
She saw the legs of the new man in front of her, and was grateful when he unstrapped and removed the gag from her mouth. She exercised her aching jaw, and was about to plead with him to release her, when she found her mouth stretched wide again, this time by a leather-covered steel ring with metallic feet which pressed into her face and chin, keeping the gag in place. She moaned loudly through the hole, trying to make them understand.
Instead, she watched as the man in front of her unfastened his trousers and took out his erection, which he guided through the ring into her open mouth. Her cries of outrage were stifled as he thrust forward, blocking her airway and making her choke. Amelia struggled to escape this new violation, but only chafed the skin on her wrists and neck against the sharp wooden edges of the device into which she was locked.
As she fought for breath, she was suddenly aware of the presence behind her, warm, naked flesh pressing against her buttocks and the backs of her thighs. She felt hands underneath her, groping her hanging breasts, then was thrown forward against the stocks as, with great violence, the man behind her thrust into her.
Unable to resist, Amelia could do nothing other than suffer the simultaneous violation at both ends. Dimly, she heard the shouts of encouragement from the crowd as both men rhythmically pounded into the helpless girl. For her part, she concentrated on trying to breathe when her windpipe was not being penetrated, and tried to ignore the discomfort of the violent hammering she was receiving from behind.
As had happened earlier, her orgasm was forced upon her and, although her body reacted to the sensations caused by the physical acts perpetrated, she took no pleasure from it. Even as her muscles tensed and spasmed, she was suddenly faced with the task of dealing with a mouth full of semen, threatening to choke her afresh. The man produced so much cum that it not only ran out of her open mouth and down her chin, but squirted into her face, blinding her as effectively as she had been earlier. The orgasm of the man behind her, by contrast, passed almost unnoticed, its main consequence being to leave a trail of warm cum oozing down her thigh.
Dazed and semiconscious from the abuse she had suffered, Amelia was only vaguely aware of the bars on the stocks holding her being released, and of being manhandled out of the cruel device and across the stage. The crowd, initially thinking that their fun had ended, reacted with whoops of delight as the tortured young woman was positioned with her back against the St Andrews Cross and tightly strapped in place, arms and legs spread wide.
Amelia now saw the woman who had acted as announcer earlier stride onto the stage, dressed in a gold lame dress, showing plenty of cleavage and split up either side to the hip. She walked over to the helpless figure and took Amelia’s face in her hands, pressing her lips against the other’s mouth, still gaping around the ring gag. Amelia felt her breasts being fondled and caressed, her nipples rolled and tweaked until they were firm and erect, then hands sliding down her body until they reached her crotch, still sore from the pounding it had received earlier.
Once more, she felt fingers inside her, long and slender this time, stimulating her arousal until she was bucking against the padded cross, struggling in vain to escape the tight bondage preventing her from fighting off this latest public humiliation. The woman in front of her sank to her knees, and Amelia cried out as she felt a tongue force its way between her pussy lips and massage her bulging clitoris.
The crowd expressed their delight as they watched the naked girl being brought to another climax in front of them, clapping and cheering her on. They also enjoyed it when she was brought off several more times with a large-headed vibrator, then tormented by the woman using a riding crop, repeatedly slapping her breasts and Venus mound.
They gave her a final, appreciative round of applause as she was carried, unconscious, from the stage.
* * * * *
Amelia woke up to find herself in bed, covered by a duvet. The bondage was gone, as was the sweat and semen which had coated significant areas of her body. For a moment, she wondered if she had dreamed the whole experience, but then the aching of her body told a different story. She looked around the unfamiliar room until she saw the figure sitting at the table.
“Jenny?” she croaked, recognising the woman brushing her hair, wearing only a nightdress.
“Amelia, you’re awake!” Jenny exclaimed, jumping up and moving to the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Where am I?” the young woman groaned, rubbing her head. “The club… All those people…”
“This is my hotel room,” the Englishwoman replied, “I thought you would appreciate a bit of peace and quiet after all that excitement.”
“But those men,” Amelia said as if recalling a nightmare, “that woman… They raped me!”
“Oh, you mean David, Jurgen, and Natalia?” Jenny responded nonchalantly. “They are key investors in the club, and they told me that you passed the interview with flying colours. They really, REALLY want you on their account!”
“You’re insane!” Amelia shouted, looking at the smiling face before her in astonishment that she could be so blasé. “I’m telling you, that was horrible! They abused me terribly in front of hundreds of people! I should go to the police!” The other woman put her head on one side and looked at the angry girl sceptically.
“Tell me that you didn’t enjoy every single second of it,” she countered, “and I’ll turn myself into the police right now.” The deafening silence which followed spoke volumes.
“I didn’t enjoy being beaten,” the German replied sullenly when she did finally speak, “it hurt so much…” With a smile, Jenny pulled off her nightie and wriggled under the duvet, pressing her naked body against that of her friend.
“Let me kiss it better, honey,” she murmured, “now, tell me exactly where it hurts…”