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“Idiots? They were my friends.”
He shook his head like he felt sorry for me. “Ellie, please. You’re old enough now to understand that friendship doesn’t matter as much as scientific progress. It can’t, not if you’re a professional. You have to keep pressing forward. We’re talking about the universe here.”
I opened my laptop and turned it on. “I can be professional and still value my friends. Not that you’d understand.” I stabbed a finger in his direction. “I’m talking to the man who turned out to be the worst friend in my life.” I put the wordfriendin air quotes. “But the rest of the guys here seem okay, so I’ll make the best of it.”
“They’re a pretty good group, aside from Tourmel. Watch out for that one.”
He can’t be worse than you.I missed my friends in Italy, and my nice office. At least I had Devin and his friends to hang out with here…and adventures at The Gallery, if I could work up the nerve. From what Devin described, it seemed especially intense. It was definitely more regimented than any BDSM club I’d attended to this point. There were actual papers to sign, and uniforms to be fitted for. I wondered what they looked like. Sexy, no doubt. Stripper couture? French maid?
When I got home from work on Friday, there was a package waiting at my apartment, a smooth, rectangular box from Devin Kincaid. I took it into the living room and sat on the couch, and cut away the seal holding it closed. I pulled back the cover to reveal deep blue tissue paper, along with a note in messy handwriting.
Dear Ella,
I’m back at work, and won’t return until Tuesday. Enclosed you’ll find some things to make you uncomfortable until I can put my hands on you again.
You’ll also find a paper detailing the rules of The Gallery. I want you to wear my “gifts” while reading over them, and if you’re sure you want to go, I’ll take you for your uniform fitting on Tuesday evening.
Have fun, you little pervert, and only come if you’re following our “rule.”
Dev
I flung aside the note, my stressful time at work forgotten, my pussy throbbing with sudden lust, but he hadn’t sent anything for my pussy. That would feel too good. There was a pair of black clover clamps—shudder—and a thick, black butt plug molded to the shape of a cock. I regarded the thing. It was made of metal, not the more forgiving silicone. It was wider at the tip than most, and it barely tapered inward where it ended at the flanged base. It was a masochist’s butt plug, made for killing, not thrilling.
Along with the butt plug, he’d provided some anal-specific lube in a bottle that read “BACK DOOR” in large neon letters. I’d need to find a hiding place for that, but I appreciated that I didn’t have to go out and buy my own.
Beneath his “gifts” was a manila envelope with the Gallery rules, but I wasn’t supposed to read them until…
I took a deep breath, looking at the thick plug, not to mention the medium-weight nipple clamps. They weren’t going to feel good.You’re only allowed to come from now on when I’m hurting you. That’s our new rule.
I wondered where he was right now. Flying, maybe, thousands of feet off the ground. I wondered if he knew that right now, this moment, he was turning me on beyond bearing. I went to the bathroom and took a shower first, thinking about Devin and the time he’d fucked my mouth under the water, and shoved my face back under the shower head, so it felt like I might drown.
When I got out of the shower, I lubed my asshole, taking my time, being thorough. The lube was slick and smooth, and warmed my skin as I penetrated myself. I stretched my ass a little with my fingers, but nothing was going to prepare me for the thick, cock-shaped plug he’d chosen. It would hurt going in no matter what I did beforehand, but I wanted it to hurt. Devin wanted it to hurt.
I put a generous sheen of lube on the hard plug and bent at the waist, reaching back to position the toy at my asshole. I pretended Devin was doing it, so I wouldn’t be too gentle and tentative. I pressed it in, pushing it back and forth to work the hard crown past my sphincter.Ow.The pain arrived, the smarting stretch. I withdrew it a little and pressed it forward again, gritting my teeth against the increasing discomfort.
At last, I relaxed enough to push it in, and the lube eased the plug deeper, filling me up. The pain of the toy’s entry had my pussy dripping and my legs trembling, and I wished Devin was here to see me taking his huge, uncomfortable probe up the ass. I arched my back and shoved it the last few inches, slowly, slowly, letting out a breath when it was finally seated with the flange between my cheeks.
I straightened and picked up the nipple clamps next. I’d taken the plug without so much as a whimper, but the clover-style clamps hurt like hell. I decided to apply both of them at the same time so I could get the initial burst of pain over with more quickly. I pinched my nipples to make them stiff, then opened the clamps over the pointed tips.
When I closed them, the double bite made me hiss. I fell to my knees, sucking in air, wishing Devin was there to yank my hair or shove his cock in my mouth. Pain was easier when you had something to distract you. All I could think about now was the grave agony being done to my nipples, as my ass clenched and spasmed around the steel toy impaling me.
Oh God, it hurts. Oh God, I’m so hot.By that point, I could have reached between my legs, stroked my clit a couple times, and orgasmed, but I didn’t want it to be over that fast. Instead, I knelt with my eyes closed, sinking down into the pain Devin wanted me to endure.
When I could bear to move again, I lifted the manila envelope and opened it. On top, there was a document from a medical office: Devin’s STI test results from earlier in the week. I knew he’d be clean, because I trusted him, so I only glanced at the list of negatives. I was more fascinated by his full name at the top,Devin Miller Kincaid, his January date of birth, and his height and weight. Six-two, one hundred and ninety-seven pounds. It seemed like so much to know about him.
I set that aside, flinching as the movement tugged at my nipples, and picked up the other papers. The first was a cover sheet with Devin’s contact information and a disclaimer that the document therein was subject to the strictest privacy. I sat back on my heels and flipped to the next page to find a list that was more abbreviated than I’d expected. My ass clenched around the plug as I read the first line:Rules of The Gallery.
Number one: All submissives must be accompanied by a sponsor who will manage their conduct and care. No unsponsored submissives will be admitted.Beside that, Devin had written,I’m going to sponsor the shit out of you.
I smiled, excited by his annotation, and moved to the next one.
Number two: Any submissive brought into The Gallery shall be considered communal property and shared in any way her sponsor desires.Again, he’d added his own note:Considering the scene you were in when I met you, this shouldn’t be a problem.
Number three: The Gallery is a no-safe-word zone. The submissive’s limits will be determined by her sponsor.All he added to that one was a rough sketch of a skull and crossbones.
Number four: All submissives must strictly adhere to The Gallery’s dress code.
He hadn’t added anything to that, but he’d already offered to take me to a fitting on Tuesday, and I could learn more then. I assumed my “uniform,” at the very least, would provide access for things like anal plugs and nipple clamps. I sighed and did another horny squirm, ready to masturbate myself to death.
