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Chapter One: At Via Sofferenza
Istrolled thestreets of Pisa’s seedier districts, trying to decide if I wanted to get hammered, or get laid. I couldn’t do both, since I preferred to get laid via kink clubs, and the one in Pisa had a strict no-alcohol rule. As a pilot, I had access to BDSM clubs all over the world, and you’d better believe I took advantage.
Of course, each club had their community rules, enforced by the locals. I’d flown to the Tuscany area enough times that I was trusted in the clubs, and accepted as a Dominant, but I had to play by their rules.Via Sofferenza—loosely translated toPath of Suffering—was a hedonistic, wild place, but you weren’t allowed to drink because of that wildness.
I paused on the corner, searching my morally compromised soul. Getting drunk in Tuscany was always an adventure, full of boisterous songs and emotional outbursts from the patrons around me. It was the easy, fun option for killing time. The kink clubs were more complicated, but also more pleasurable. In most cases, I could find a willing Italian submissive to toy with, both sadistically and sexually. My Scots heritage gave me an oversize height and build that was attractive to women, and my un-Italian blond hair and blue eyes drew them in.
What did I feel like? Alcohol or sex?
I wasn’t flying tomorrow, so I didn’t have to worry about sobriety. I’d be returning to New York as a charter passenger, having agreed to accompany a flight-phobic theoretical astrophysicist across the Atlantic to a New York research facility. I imagined playing air-support-coach to a nervous scientist while hungover from a night of drinking. Probably not the best idea.
Sex, then. I started toward Via Sofferenza, pulling my coat tighter against a drizzle of April rain. I’d flown to Pisa to pick up my friend Fort, but he wasn’t available to do the nightlife thing with me. No, he was holed up near Cascina with his submissive, having repaired some issues in their relationship.Issues. Relationship.Both words disturbed me. Another perk of being a pilot: women never attempted to pin you down. They assumed you’d be flying away soon, and gave you leeway to maneuver in and out of their bedrooms.
I tried to remember if I knew any submissives near Pisa, past lovers who might be open to a sadomasochistic fling. I hadn’t been here in a few months, so none sprang to mind.
When I arrived at the nondescript club entrance, I paid the exorbitant cover charge for single males, while the women behind me were waved in for free. I didn’t mind the sexist fee scale. It was how clubs like this kept the creepers and gawkers out, and ensured the ratio wasn’t twenty men to every woman.
Via Sofferenza was well run in other ways, too. It was clean, classy, and generously staffed with dungeon monitors. I walked along the outskirts of the main floor, taking in the current scenes. Unlike my BDSM club in New York—a private dungeon with only male Dominants—this dungeon had a lot of leather- and stiletto-clad Dommes. They abused their groveling subs with enthusiastic pleasure. Sadistic commands in Italian sounded a lot like sadistic commands in English, and the moans and groans of their victims sounded the same, too.
I found a place against the wall and studied the club’s clientele, searching for a scene partner. I preferred to play hard, so I needed a sub willing to take risks. Body type was secondary. I was more interested in their scening preferences. Did they like to be hurt? Did they like to take chances? Were they self-possessed enough to walk away from an aftercare session with their psyche intact?
I heard a shriek from the corner, and turned to find a group of men tormenting a blindfolded and gagged woman wearing nothing but a teensy black thong. She was bound, spread-eagled, to an open rack, so her back and front were exposed to the crowd around her. At first glance, the scene didn’t look okay. Too many men, and the sub was pulling frantically at her bonds. I moved toward her writhing body and noticed a torn sign taped around her stomach. I quickly translated the Italian.My last night here. Help me have fun.
She’d apparently chosen to be tormented by this mob of excited Dominants. Very edgy. Just the type of submissive I liked.
I joined the circle, admiring the sub’s petite, curvy frame. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, a little waist, and gorgeous, round tits. A man in front of her slapped her nipples and pussy, while a shorter man behind her wielded a paddle, giving her licks whenever the Dom in front signaled him. Each lick brought a strangled shriek from behind her black ball gag.
The sub was small but strong, a bundle of energy flailing in her bonds. I examined her body language for signs she was in distress, but I didn’t know her well enough to judge. One of the men in the circle looked over as I edged nearer. His gaze informed me that he was the one taking care of her, the one who was here to judge her limits. I let out the breath I’d been holding and nodded a greeting.
He nodded back. I’d be allowed to watch, but wasn’t sure yet if I’d be allowed to participate. I sauntered around the circle of spectators to the other side of the rack, listening to Italian mixed with English. I heard filthy sounding slang, but laughter too. They called their blonde victim “Ella,” and she was well liked here. Once I made my way around the back, I saw that her pert, round ass had already been well marked.
Damn, she was sexy, not just because she was recklessness personified. It was her short stature combined with her hot energy. Her wavy hair was a deeper blonde than mine, with thick, tangled curls that bounced when she tossed her head. I imagined twisting my fingers in those curls, and grasping her narrow waist in my hands. If she was my sub, she would have spent a lot of time bent over, offering her glorious ass to be spanked, whipped, or fucked.
“Want a turn?” asked her Dom, gesturing me forward. I moved to the sub’s front, to get a closer look at her mouth stretched around the gag. She had juicy, full lips that made me imagine a messy blowjob. I wished I could look in her eyes, but the blindfold was part of her scene. She probably needed it to let go, to understand that what was happening around her was out of her control.
I ran my hands over her lovely tits, then pinched her rock-hard nipples. She drew in a breath, audible through the vented ball gag. Drool dripped onto her chest. I wanted to take the gag off too, because I wanted to hear her sighs and screams without the muffling plastic. I wondered if she was a tourist, or a grad student heading home from a study-abroad term. Good for her, capping it off with a Via Sofferenza orgy. This was the most fun thing I’d ever seen here.
The last Dom had smacked her pussy, so I focused on her breasts, pinching and sucking them. She cried out and shoved her hips forward. “Oh, you like that?” I said against her ear. “You’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”
She turned her head, even though she couldn’t see me through her blindfold. Registering my American accent? Maybe I was the only man in this taunting, horny circle who wasn’t known to her. Maybe that scared her. The thought aroused me, and my cock grew harder, the tip of it creeping toward the top of my pants. Her thong signaled no sex, but others had touched her over her panties, so I did too, pressing my middle finger against the sopping fabric between her legs.
She moaned through the ball in her mouth. Even with the mask and gag distorting her features, I could tell she was pretty, not supermodel, plastic-surgery pretty, but naturally pretty. “Beautiful thing,” I murmured, so only she could hear. “If you were mine, I’d never gag you like this. I’d keep your mouth clear and open. I’d stick my cock in it all day.”
I stroked her through her panties as I spoke, and felt her shudder. Such a sensitive pussy, or had my words aroused her? The frenzy around her quieted as the other men watched me fondle her. Did I look as turned on as I felt? I didn’t want to be the asshole who made her come when it was so much more fun to torment her, so I drew my fingers away. She pressed her hips forward, whining behind the gag.
Horny little slut. I moved behind her, gesturing for someone else to take over the front. I needed a little time with her enticing ass. After the paddling, someone had cropped her with loud, rhythmic slaps until her cheeks were spotty and red. I stroked a hand over her heated flesh, then pulled the back of the thong up between her crack. She balanced on her toes with a groan.
It took everything I had not to groan too. If it were just her and me, no rules, no clothes, I would have buried my cock inside her that second, popped open my fly and gone to town. Instead, I cupped her cheeks and fantasized, taking a deep breath against her soft, blonde hair. I wanted to grab her neck and squeeze. I wanted to bite her ear and shove a couple fingers in her asshole to scare her, but she wasn’t mine. I was a guest here, sharing a masochistic sub in good faith.
I satisfied myself with spanking her. I held her waist and walloped her a few times with my palm. My hand was as big as her ass cheek. After each smack and shriek, I closed my fingers around whichever buttock I’d just punished, reveling in the round, feminine globes. She tensed and moaned, not just from what I was doing, but from the clamps that had been applied to her tits by her Dominant.
I could have stood there groping and spanking her all night, but I’d already taken a longer turn than everyone else, so I stepped away and gestured for the next guy. Her Dom would finish her off soon if he had any heart at all. I wasn’t the only man who’d taken her to the edge of orgasm as she squirmed in her bonds. So much sexual energy. What a magnificent submissive. Her Dom was a lucky man.
I knew I should head to some other corner of the dungeon and try to find a sub willing to relieve the pressure in my pants, but instead I stayed in the circle around Ella. Her Dom took charge shortly after I left, and the harder he played with her, the hotter she got. When he rolled on a condom with theatrical flair, the assembled group gave a cheer. I watched her, fascinated by her horniness. She practically climbed the man when he uncuffed her ankles. So hot.
I wanted to see her come, wanted to hear the noises she made, but another part of me didn’t want to watch someone else fuck her, because I’d rather have done it myself. I prowled the dungeon instead, flirting with some women, but my senses were still trained on the corner where Ella played. I wasn’t watching when she came, but I heard the pleased reaction of her voyeurs. Fun and games. Kinky adventures.
Why did I feel so wrought up?
