The Club.
Their invitations arrived in a pink envelope in Monday morning’s post. Neither of them had really expected their application to be successful, but now that it was and had become a reality, their excitement was tinged with some trepidation.
Paul and Abigail had visited many on-line sites, spending time in front of a web cam, sharing their sexual appetite with anyone in the world who wanted to watch. It is a fast growing network of like-minded people who enjoy performing to an audience of anonymous faces whose web cams were on at the same time. They didn’t need the extra incentive of knowing that sometimes, hundreds of people were watching them screw each other. They didn’t need the buzz, but it made for some really hot sessions and, for some reason, made Abigail all the hotter in her performance.
Neither had too much by the way of inhibitions, she, because of her past abuse where she was used so badly and emotion had been non-existent in her liaisons, Paul, because he found in Abigail, someone who was not afraid to express herself sexually in the knowledge that he cared deeply for her.
They could monitor how many viewers they had, a simple counter ran alongside the images of their bodies on the seventeen-inch screen and a tool bar at the top of the page showed instant messages from the observers. They rarely answered the messages, preferring to remain in the room to converse, unless they were too busy with each other to type.
They liked to surf the net as well, sharing the excursion into lust and porn as a partnership. They shared fantasies where another was introduced into their play, but these were just fanciful notions that added to the spice of their lovemaking.
Abigail was flat on the divan, her head propped by two pillows as Paul thrust between her parted thighs in a classic missionary position. Her knees were drawn up to give him a greater access to her body and allow their pubic bones to grind against each other. The session was already well into the latter stages, with both coming towards the reward of orgasm.
The web cam faithfully recorded the action scenes and relayed them around the world, bouncing their heaving bodies off satellites in orbit at eight frames per second. Perhaps as many as three hundred registered accounts were at least watching in part, or had their cam open on a screen somewhere. As the passion mounted towards the inevitable conclusion, so the amount of voyeuristic viewers increased; they were oblivious, too intent on each other to notice.
Her hands drifted from her breasts and clasped Paul’s waist, digging nails into the soft skin of his back. Perhaps she dug a little more than customary or her nails were a little sharper, because Paul yelped and grabbed her hands in his, while he supported himself on her lower torso. Bringing her wrists together, Paul clamped them in his large hands and pushed them over her head to hold them there, away from his back and under his control.
It was as if a switch were suddenly hit. Abigail, realising she was virtually pinned and restrained, went into overdrive, her hip and pelvis came up and crashed into Paul, she dictated the pace and urgency, driving him deep inside her body as if in desperate need of his length and seed. She thrashed her head from side to side, screaming his name over and over as she smashed through a climax and orgasm of proportions hitherto unknown between them. He held her wrists in a strong grip and tried to stay on top of her as she writhed and bucked under him in a frenzy of motion.
Abigail came in a gut wrenching spasm that had her pull up her knees to her chest. Her teeth gritted together in a rictus like grin, every muscle taut and bunched as another wave passed through her, then another, slightly less, then more, in diminishing ripples like period cramps that squeezed and let go.
Paul withdrew from her sex, but held her hands still, locked above her head in his grip. He knelt beside her and slowly rubbed himself with his free hand until he reached his own climax and sprayed her body with his secretion.
He was somewhat startled by Abigail’s sudden frenzy, but didn’t say anything, preferring to just enjoy the fervour and exhilaration of the moment. He retrieved a towel and cleaned her off. It wasn’t until later that she broached the subject, giving him the opportunity to ask what had happened to cause her to react so violently.
“I had this sudden image of being tied up when you clasped my hands together.” She told him. “It just did something to me and as you could see, all hell broke loose. It was like an electric current was passed through me.”
Subsequent excursions of mild bondage had similarly devastating effects on Abigail. They experimented with tying her hands, feet or knees using his neckties at first, then buying soft braid lanyard lines from a chandlery. The marine ropes were soft to the touch and didn’t abrade her skin or chaff. Each step took her to new places and heights of ecstasy, gradually setting the lines of submissive and domination.
They shopped for the paraphernalia of S&M, visiting the sex shops of Soho and Anne Summers. In a matter of months, Abigail was the possessor of several leather harnesses and bustier outfits. They found nipple and labia clamps, trying them out gingerly at first, but then getting into the swing of it with a passion. She loved the sensation of being restrained with cuffs and a choker collar that had loops for chains or rope to pass through. Some of the toys they acquired bordered on pain; she liked a leather look whip, but shied away from a riding crop. They established the boundaries of her endurance and enjoyment thresholds by trial and error, experimenting and then evaluating the effects caused by the vast array of toys.
The ultimate for Abigail was reached with a newly bought set of labia clamps with soft rubber inserts. The clamps were attached to a chain that they passed through one of the loops on her choker. Two further clamps, also attached to a chain, pinched her nipples in what looked to be a cruel grip, but was in fact, quite comfortable. The chain to these was also passed through a loop on her choker. The effect of any movement on her part pulled her lips apart to expose her delicate clit and simultaneously tightened the chain attached to her nipples, pulling her breasts up and tightening the grip of the clamp. Paul added a blindfold to the ensemble and then tormented her sensitive nub with the tip of a dolphin vibrator, causing her to squirm; adding torment to her nipples and sex by pulling on the chains. It was a delicious torment that had her screaming a climatic spasm. She soaked the bed with a torrent of cum that splashed all over Paul’s face and shoulders. Had the sound been up on the computer, they may have heard a collective sigh from the watchers of their cam.
Abigail and Paul’s surfing habits changed to reflect their newfound interest. Together they discovered bdsm sites, viewing the images and then applying some of them to their own play. A natural progression was for them to join and chat with other people who shared their sexual predilections.
Over a period of time, they had developed a network of cyber-friends from around the globe, sharing fantasies and scenarios that were mutually rewarding. They conversed while appearing on web-cam and acting out various configurations at the behest of viewers whose suggestions sometimes bordered on the outright bizarre. Abigail’s sex was simulatedly abused, being whipped and tortured by Paul who was taking instruction from the anonymous voyeurs on the other side of the cam. Not knowing where they were going to be led or in which direction the requests would take them served as a teaching method for them both. Paul found himself doing things to Abigail that would never have occurred to him, taking her to limits that he might have been fearful of otherwise, for Abigail, it was a delirium of sensual and torturous delight of discovery. She found in her body, a capacity for pleasure that by far, exceeded her wildest dreams and all in front of an anonymous audience.
It was having an audience that realised their liking for exhibitionism. They discovered that they both enjoyed the fact that they were there to be watched; it added to the overall excitement and enhanced both of their climaxes, knowing that their essences were shared with so many people.
A tentative invitation came from one of the sites they regularly visited. Would they like to attend a private party in Milton Keynes; of members who held a common interest in Bondage and sado-masochistic tendencies? The club was established some ten years ago and had irregular private functions, usually at someone’s house. It wasn’t a huge leap for them both; they accepted the invitation and waited for the printed version.
The party was arranged for the following weekend, it would give them the whole week to prepare, pack and make sure all of their toys were charged and cleaned. Neither really knew what to expect when they arrived. Obviously, they would be an attraction, having been the subject of many of the club member’s favourite entertainment for some while now on the Internet, but they had no experience to draw from of exactly what happened at these gatherings or what they would be required to do. Both Paul and Abigail were looking forward to participating, but were somewhat unsure at the same time.
Saturday came at last. The invitation may have only arrived five days before, but the time in between had dragged, feeling like five years.
The house, when they eventually found it, was set in its own grounds of half an acre or so, surrounded by a stone wall and wrought iron gates that interrupted the gravel drive.
A footman in full livery took the keys of Paul’s M3 and asked them to wait on the marble steps while he parked the car. They turned in unison to take in the massive portico at the top of the steps and then, both jumped when the footman cleared his throat behind them.
The huge oak doors at the entrance, led into an equally impressive hall lit by a crystal drop chandelier hanging from the ceiling several floors up. Twin stone stairs rose in front of them in sweeping arcs that led to a first floor landing which was almost as big as Paul’s converted warehouse apartment.
The interior of the building was grandiose, each level and room decorated and panelled in what appeared to be a Regency style, but the main hall where the rest of the guest were already seated around a long dinning table was by far and away, sumptuous. The carpet threatened to swallow feet whole in its pile. The walls had panels of raised plasterwork female figures, painted white and blue to resemble Wedgwood. The ceiling was slightly vaulted with flutes coming together at six lighting points where chandeliers hung from ornate plaster roses.
The Footman, who had shown them up the curved staircase, closed the tall doors behind them and announced to the room; “Paul and Abigail are among us.” He reopened the doors and left, his tails almost being caught between the door edges.
Paul nervously stood with his weight on one hip, something he had done since his childhood when he was in trouble, and regarded the sixteen pairs of eyes that, as one, had swung around from looking at the only figure standing at the opposite end of the table.
“Ah; welcome our guests, my friends.” He waved his hands in an upward motion, indicating that everyone around the table should stand. Although no one was looking at their host, they stood in silence as one unified body and then sat at his command of an opposite motion of his hands.
“Pray, be seated.” He indicated the remaining two chairs closest to Paul and Abigail. The mystery of how the other guest knew when to stand and sit was solved. A large mirror was hung, angled down, over the double doors into the hall.
“You are punctual, I like that.” Their guest fixed them with a stare then, as if in dismissal, his attention took in the whole table. “To conclude our business before dinner is served, the thirtieth of November is to be our grand ball, we shall have space for all of our members and twelve guests only, so please make sure you announce them early. Unless there is any other business, I propose we dine.” He paused to see if any one had anything to say, then satisfied by the silence that was returned to his suggestion, picked up a brass bell beside his place setting and rang it.
After countless courses of food, the meal at last finished, the ladies were asked to retire to their own room. As one, the eight ladies around the table rose and lightly grasped Abigail’s arm to lead her into an adjacent room.
The men left the table to the servant’s ministrations and headed in the opposite direction to the women, passing through an ornately carved door into another sumptuously decorated drawing room. Lounges were arrayed in a rough semi-circle around what appeared at first glance to be a giant hooker that steadily bubbled over a small flame. The men arranged themselves in no particular order and drew from the pipes. Paul found the smell unattractive and declined gracefully when he was passed one of the smoking tubes.
“So, for tonight’s entertainment we have Paul’s young lady Abigail. The usual rules apply, but one word of warning, it is her first time, so, please my friends, be especially understanding of her nature.” The host had at some point donned a smoking jacket such as would have been fashionable in the nineteen twenties perhaps. Having said his piece, he sat and drew heavily on the nearest brass ferrule.
Paul felt somewhat bemused by the turn of events. They had gone to the club expecting to be engaged in sex games involving some bdsm, but hadn’t considered this old fashion style of reserve. Neither of them really had much in the way of expectations based on facts, but this seemed at odds, totally.
A few minutes later, the doors to the drawing room opened and, with a flourish, the ladies entered. They had changed clothing to long dresses of varying dour colours that would have reached the floor, but had been pulled up in panels and attached to a belt. Splits between the panels gave a tantalising glimpse of the bare legs and thighs under the heavy brocade like fabric. The necklines plunged to below the breast line, in each case; the women’s breasts were exposed, pushed up and separated by bones or under wire support.
All of the women were similarly dressed except Abigail. She was totally naked with her hands and arms secured behind her with a criss-cross lattice going up to the elbow, effectively forcing her small, high breasts forward.
Her mouth hung open as if in a silent scream, but Paul could sense her heightened excitement by the slightly up-curve at the corners of her sensuous mouth. He saw the reddened welts across her buttocks and lower back and guessed that she had been the recipient of some correctional treatment. As far as he was concerned, she had never looked lovelier, immediately, he wanted her; more, he felt a need of her that was almost painful.
“Ah! Ladies, excellent, bring the child to the front.” Their host directed the positioning of Abigail so that she stood in the centre of the circle of seated men.
Abigail’s head sunk to her chest as if in abject shame, but Paul’s intimate knowledge of her body told him by the hardness of her nipples, that she was as aroused as he was and was performing for the delight of her viewers.
The host stood and addressed Paul.
“Paul, would you please be up-standing to introduce us to this delectable woman. Please take her to each of the guests in turn for their inspection.” He sat in the chair Paul had got up from.
Gently taking her bound arm, Paul led Abigail to stand in front of the first guest to the right of their host’s position. He had her stand with her feet slightly parted and lifted her chin so that she could not look directly at her admirer. The Guest’s hand snaked out and cupped her breast, weighing it as he might a ball. Seemingly, he was satisfied with the result, his fingers pried at her labia, brushing the side of his hand over her sex; then he lifted it to his nose to savour her mustiness. She shuddered at his touch, but stood firm and waited for instruction. He nodded his release; Paul led her to the next who also inspected her, probing at her lips and tasting her wetness.
In turn, each of the men examined Abigail’s body; one had her turn around so that he could closely examine her anus, pushing the tip of a finger into her forbidden entry until he signalled his satisfaction. At last, Paul had Abigail stand in front of their host. He cast an appraising eye over her form, taking time to study her in total, from toes to the crown of her hair, his fingers steepled together in concentration. Soundlessly his gaze traversed her body, seemingly taking every facet and flaw without any outward show of emotion. Abigail was starting to fidget, wondering what he though of her. His question, when it came, surprised her.
“You are clean now?” It was asked in a soft voice.
She nodded, knowing that the needle tracks had given her away. They served as, and would always be a reminder of her tragic past.
“How long?” He demanded to know
“Over a year.” She replied nervously.
“Good.” In that simple one word, he had signalled her acceptability. “Kneel.”
Awkwardly, Abigail knelt at his feet and waited for his command.
“You do not wear the mark of an owner I see. As such, you are the property of all in this room, to be used by those in this room as they see fit. You will comply with their instructions and be glad of the attention. You will not be harmed in anyway and, should you wish it, can leave at any time, but only as you are now, naked as you were born. Do you understand?”
“Yes…Master.”
He pulled his smoking jacket apart and undid his zipper to expose a hooded cock. His hand rasped the top of her head and tilted it back a little. She parted her reddened lips to accept his length. Slowly and insistently, he tilted her head back to its normal position, impaling her on his cock as it slide into her throat. Then he began an excruciating slow mouth fuck that went from the tips of her lips to the base of her tongue. The pace was agonisingly slow, relentless and insistent, until she felt him twitch. Soundlessly, her pushed her head down on his shaft and came in her throat. It felt impersonal, as had the tricks in her old life and in some ways, was as if she had been used only to be discarded like so much trash, just as her customers had abused her body in those days.
Her next partner was more interested in satisfying himself in her sex. With little ado, he was inside her body, thrusting and grunting like a pig in rut while she impassively lay on the leather chesterfield settee. He lasted for a short while only, before coming inside her and passing her on to his neighbour.
One by one, the men fucked her, had her suck them or just masturbated over her skin. By the end of a full circle, Abigail was dripping with semen from her mouth, sex and body. She was returned back to their host somewhat the worse of wear, but completely unsatisfied herself.
At a signal of his hand, the circle broke up and people stepped away, hooking up with the ladies who had remained in the background, silently watching Abigail’s progress around the room.
She was laid flat on a settee, her bounds released and legs spread wide. Before Abigail had a chance to organise her thoughts, Juliet, one of the ladies who had prepared her, had attached her mouth to Abigail’s sex, drawing her clit between her teeth and sucking blood into the hardening nub. A cock, she didn’t know who’s, was pushed into her mouth and unknown hands kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples. She did her best to swallow the cock, but was hampered by the lack of available space; also, the sucking of her clit was lessening her volition to be determined at anything else other than the onrushing climax of her own.
Before her climax had fully subsided, she was flipped over by strong hands, her knees placed either side of some one’s head lying beneath her and another cock forced into her mouth from someone standing at the end of the settee. Another cock was edging at her anus, trying to find entry; Abigail could do nothing about it, either to prevent entry or help. She swallowed come and flooded the face below her with her own secretions.
The cock was at last successful, the bell shaped head passing her sphincter and entering her passage. She cared less about the entry, being as she was, swept along on a tide of euphoric highs as each of her lovers entered her or licked at her most sensitive parts. Gradually, she became aware of the thrusting her anal passage was getting. It was almost savage in pace and relentless in the depths it plunged. Paul had fucked her in this position before, but always with a care that bordered on over caution. She was being reamed hard and by an experienced cock. She felt her body open up for her lover, felt her muscles relax in acceptance of his ownership, as she relaxed, so he found new depths in which to delve until she could feel his balls banging against her coccyx. He exploded inside of her, having brought her to a shattering climax. His cock slid out of her, bringing with it, most of his seed to pool on the leather between her knees.
Over the course of the evening, Abigail was used by anyone who wasn’t currently engaged, some times, even those already coupled, pulled her into their clutches and invaded her body with fingers, tongues, cocks or whatever was available. She was treated as a whore might be, by one or many at a time. Abigail loved the abandonment of what she had become. Her body, somehow took the invasion and violations and responded many times over.
She was aware of Paul at the periphery of her vision and consciousness, but would not have been able to say if he had touched her since taking her arm and standing her in front of the host.
At last, the night ended. Paul took her home but either, didn’t have the energy left, or was being considerate of the delicacy she was inevitably suffering from, to do very much more than hold her tenderly as they slept.