Silk. My sex club, my world.
I fuck'en love the feel of silk on a woman's tight, curvy body. Tying her hands behind her back, I picture covering her eyes with a swath of black silk while I watch her take my cock deep in her throat.Beautiful.
Hence the name Silk!
Makes my cock twitch just thinking about the smooth cool fabric I'll soon be using on Carla later. I adjust the growing hard on in my pants and keep walking toward the bar. VIP access to thisseedy world is sought after by many, but only a few can afford to get in.
I vet every member personally and each one signs an NDA, a consent form, and every month they must hand over their medical records. I run a clean club and I won't take shit from anyone; I don't care who the fuck you are. I don’t give two shit’s about your power or position.
My club remains clean, and you treat the staff with respect.Always!
I haven’t run into any trouble so far, because when you're given the freedom to fulfill your every sexual fantasy with beautiful men and women, to accommodate your every kink. Well, who would want to fuck that up?
The membership fees for my playground alone pay for the club as a whole. Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. I hadn’t expected it to be in such high demand, but once the money came rolling in, I invested more to make it a priority.
The club upstairs is the extra cash I bring in to support the growing family organization, and I get to play in Silk any time I want.
They all pay and pay well to keep their depravity a secret from their husbands and wives, company partners, and the office co-workers they chat up by the water cooler. The mask they wear so they can fit into the mainstream of everyday living.
I allow them a place to be themselves, the freedom to act out those so-called wicked urges. If you want to play on my playground, you keep your mouth shut and then you can get your dick wet. Simple as that.
No one fucks with my rules in this kingdom and so far there have been no issues.
The nightclub runs from four in the afternoon till 2 AM. Silkstays open till 4 AM. Sometimes the party lasts longer than expected when you're down there.
I chuckle at that. I've had a few of those nights myself over the last few years.
On the very top floor is my office and private quarters. It's a fair-sized apartment I use when I'm not staying in the massive house I bought a few years ago. Why the hell I bought it? I couldn’t say. I just saw it one day as I was driving by and called the realtor. Now it sits mostly empty with a few staff to keep the place clean and ready if I show up.
Mostly I sleep here because it suits me. I get to work, play, and fuck all in the same building, so why leave? I have my very own kink room off to one side of the apartment. The outer door to enter is off to the side by the stairs leading up to my apartment. The main door to my apartment is private to everyone but my brothers and me. No one enters my private quarters…ever.
My sweet little kink room has nothing else in it but a black leather wing-back chair beside a small table and a bed. I don't need much more.
Whips and chains are not my thing. Why use such cruel instruments when silk is so much softer, just as strong, and leaves very few marks when done right. I painted the walls a deep red with back trim and mouldings; typical colours for my line of work, but I like them. Red is my favourite colour.
I walk out of the hall into the club, spying Marcus behind the bar taking stock and filling out the liquor forms for tonight. I hired him as the bar manager. He's young, around 25, a good-looking guy, smart, good with people, and has the underground vibe I was looking for to run a club.
The only problem is that he’s got a short fuse. He wouldn't think twice before taking a swing at someone who was getting out of line with the serving girls or anyone causing trouble onthe floor before asking questions. I appreciate his fast reactions to situations, but sometimes a thought before the punch might come in handy. I can't count how many times either myself or Carlos had to intervene so shit didn't hit the fan with clients.
"Boss??" He looks up and stops writing. I give him a passing glance and a nod before heading for the stairs leading to my apartment.
"Hennessy on the rocks, two large cubes. And get Carla. I don't care where she is or what she's doing. Get her here now!" I bark at him. "And tell her to bring the drink up to my room when she arrives; use the side door." I take the stairs two at a time, wanting to get into my room.
No, I need my room. I require a professional, not a wannabe sub who can't follow orders or is overly eager to please the boss. I have my various tastes and ladies who fit each role, but today I need Carla.
Reaching the side door. I press the key card to the reader, it beeps, and I go inside. I flip the light on and undo my tie. As I head over to the bed, the click of my cufflink is the only sound in the room. Placing them on the bed, I remove my jacket, followed by my tie, laying them neatly on top. Rolling up my sleeves, I head over to my chair. I can feel some of the tension leaving me already, and I haven't even come yet.
My chair faces the door. As I sit, I spread my legs wide and give my cock some room. Reaching for the small table, I pull the silk strip out of the little drawer and rub it through my palms. It seems cool to the touch, but as I brush my hand over the long thin strip. It begins to warm my palm, so delicate. Like the flesh underneath a woman's breasts or her skin. My cock starts to throb against the zipper in my pants. I could pull it out and give it a good, hard stroke to relieve the pressure, but that's what Carla’s for, that and much more.
Fuck,I need that drink.
The door clicks open, and Carla enters the room. She is wearing a dark navy slip dress. Thin straps show off the white, creamy skin of her shoulders and chest. I can see her perky nipples poking at the cool material and my dick jumps in my pants. She stands there, knowing silence is required and waiting for my orders.
"Bring the drink; you know the rest." I wave a hand at her.
She walks slowly over and places the drink on the table and heads back over to the door, facing the wall, removing her dress. Slowly, the way I like it. She has her back turned to me, and as she slips her arms out of the straps holding the thin dress up, I can see the back of her long neck and the curve of her spine as the dress falls to her slim hips.
Two little dimples appear above her ass as the dress hangs off her hips. I might just lick those little indents. Mumm!
