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“Fair enough. Come on, let’s find something good to drink, and something better to watch.”
* * *
We’ve spentsome time observing the patrons, taking care of some business, watching the girls dance and two couples engage up on the stage, and I can’t suppress the unbelievable pride I feel when I see how comfortable and at ease our members are. This… this is why I worked my ass off into countless sleepless nights, doing freelance graphic design work, with another part-time job during uni, and this is why I want to fight back at Ryan. This fucking club is our future, and he doesn’t get to run me out of town.
A crowd gathered by one of the playroom windows catches my attention, as a moody song fills the air, sending a shiver down my spine. I signal Lulu toward the playrooms, making our way through the crowd, and the sight greeting us behind that window forces me to steady myself on the window frame.
Fuck…
I feel Lulu’s gaze on me, the same stunned expression most likely plastered over her face as well, but I can’t look away.
A dark green mask covers the eyes of the woman hanging from the ceiling hook, by the restraint that ties her hands together. Her legs are spread wide, heeled feet barely touching the ground as she stands over a narrow bench, maybe a couple of inches in width at the top. These are used for a specific type of pussy teasing, but they usually have a narrower piece laid on top. Only on this one sits a dildo, a very thick, violent looking, monster-type dildo, looking as if it was inspired by hentai porn, and the tip of it has disappeared inside the black-haired woman. Behind her, one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen, looking like he swims every single fucking day, with his wide shoulders and taught abs and chest, wearing a black mask with glossy thin patterns on it, paddles her ass in controlled hits.
I’m not sure if they chose to see the crowd on the other side of the window, or if it’s their reflection staring back at them. But by the look in her eyes, aimed low, probably at the reflection of the girth she squeezes her dripping wet pussy around, I think I can guess it’s the mirror.
When the paddle slaps against her skin once more, we can hear the impact through the microphone they turned on inside. His technique is impeccable—he hits hard, but pulls back at the same moment it makes contact, so not to push her over, slapping, rather than hitting. I can actually see the flesh of her perfectly shaved pussy squeezing around the thick toy. I can see the moment it just about pushes her over the edge as she struggles through that ecstasy and pain.
“Remember, do not dare come.” We just about hear his deep voice through the microphone, mixing with the music of the club.
“Yes… yes, Sir.” I can see the tremble in her flexed thighs, and I realize she’s keeping herself from impaling her pussy, not because she fears the monster-dildo, but because she’ll come if she does.
I feel a strange energy surround me, tiny prickles on my back, pouring in wave after wave over my skin, and I roll my neck, absorbing it into my body. There’s a lot of people around me, so the breath that touches the top of my shoulder as my hair falls to the side doesn’t surprise me. Yet it does entice me.
He hits her again, and again… tears fall from under her mask as she bites her lips, my pussy contracting on a long shiver as my fingers dig into the window frame. Again, the slap of the wood on skin makes her grip the rope above her head, and the muscles of her arms flex hard as she struggles to pull herself up. As her legs tremble, my pussy clenches.
The man moves to her side, his back to us as he brings the paddle down on her breasts, her mouth falling open on a silent scream just as she comes down farther onto the dildo. Female voices gasp somewhere behind me, and I whip my head around out of instinct, only it makes me lose my balance, straight onto the man that stands behind me. My shoulders are rested against his chest, and his obviously hard cock right on my ass, as I catch a glimpse of him, and his gaze falls on my profile. He wraps his hand around my upper arm to steady me, and in that moment, the electric contact burns an image in my brain—lightning searing through flesh and muscle, a deep, primal craving fed by the image of the couple behind the glass.
As he steadies me, my ass can’t feel his cock anymore, my back no longer touching his front, and I don’t dare look up to his mask-covered face. I don’t want to. I acknowledge him, and the fact that he has not released my arm yet, then turn my attention back to the playroom.
When the paddle reaches the skin of her ass again, the stranger squeezes my arm ever so slightly, and the woman drops her head to the side, her eyes rolling in the back of her head for a split second before they come back. There’s a lost look in them, filled with pleasure and pain, an ecstasy she’s lost control of, now held by her lover. He ghosts his palm over her cheek, his thumb swiping over her lips, before it drops to her throat and grips it possessively.
“Look at me.”
And she does. In an instant. The look in her eyes is still lost, but he assesses her, rubs his thumb over her pulse, then dips in and touches his lips to her cheek. She smiles, her lips slightly parted, and just like that, his hand goes to one breast, squeezing her nipple before the paddle hits her clit on a sharp note.
I can’t help it, a moan escapes my lips as my muscles tense, more aware of the stranger’s grip on me. Or maybe he just squeezed harder, I can’t tell.
Someone touches my hand and I look over to my right, Lulu signaling me to Luke, who now stands next to her—I almost forgot she was here. She points in the direction of the office, asking me if I’m okay here, and doesn’t leave until I smile and nod. Then they’re gone and I stand here alone, and a couple takes her place, embracing as they watch the image unfold before them.
But I’m not alone, am I. As that paddle makes contact with one of her breasts, I feel his breath on my shoulder, and I can’t help but roll my neck as those goosebumps snake over my skin.
My gaze follows the man as he walks behind her, his eyes on the mirror, watching her, but God… it feels as if he’s watching all of us. He reaches in front of her, sliding his fingers through the wetness she drips onto the dildo, before he pulls away, his hand disappearing between them. Her mouth falls open on a hitched breath, eyes wide as her body stills, and suddenly I realize where those fingers disappeared, and I can’t help but gasp softly.
I don’t notice the stranger’s front against my back until his hand grips my hip, steadying me once more as my body leans into him. His grip is firm, tight, but somehow, I know that if I decide to move away, he will let me go. But I’m not moving, too enthralled in the way the man before me denies the woman’s orgasm, the way she navigates just on the edge of it, pushing herself to live in that permanent state of torturous ecstasy, without the knowledge of when the denial will end. She cries, she screams, she moans… and I moan right along with her.
The man that holds me pushes a little farther against me, and it is now that I recognize the slight reluctance he held in his body until now. The purpose of his grip on my arm wasn’t just to keep me steady, but to keep me away too. Not anymore.
His fingers flex on my hip, with every twitch in my body, on the thrust of the man’s fingers in his woman’s ass. My head falls against my stranger’s shoulder, and his hand glides onto the curve of my ass. The man slaps the paddle against her flesh, finger fucking her as my stranger’s hand reaches under my dress, gripping my ass cheek with a firmness that makes me quiver.
I don’t stop him.
I don’t want to.
I don’t even want to look at him.
I’m curious, but why break this spell?
I’ve never done this before. I played back in Rosston, but it’s different here, where most people know me, doing this with someone that might not be a stranger at all. The masks hold an eerie power in a moment like this. He could be anyone.
