Sylvie in a Paris Sex Club (light BDSM erotica)
From the novel First Position by Melanie Hamrick, Chapter 14.
(The novel follows dancer Sylvie Carter, who finds her career in shambles after five years with the American National Ballet. When a troubling relationship erupts into scandal, she loses everything, becoming a version of herself she doesn't recognize. She vows to never make the same mistake again, but when she runs into a handsome stranger off stage during a rehearsal, she can't help but be drawn to him.
On tour in Europe, Sylvie decides to party in a Paris sex club with Alicia and David, two other dancers. As events play out Sylvie's nner life is revealed. She thinks about Sebastian and Jocelyn, her former lovers in a threesome relationship until they broke up catastrophically and Sebastian was fired from the company. More recently she has been upset by an argument with her boss Diana, who discovered Sylvie had fucked another male lead, Alessandro.)
Chapter 14 Paris. Now. Sylvie.
If you know where to look, in any city, you can find a place to lose yourself in any last place you can find someone who will give you d**gs. If you look hard enough, and know who to ask, you can even find yourself a wonderful intoxicating, only slightly terrifying, sex club.
I need to lose myself. I need to feel everything and nothing. I call Alicia, rolling a pill between my fingers and my jacket pocket. Molly - scored from a guy who looked like he was trying to channel Sid Vicious.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“I found a sex club. Want to go?”
“Oh my God, I was literally just talking about doing that again to David the other day! It ended with his nurse guy by the way.”
“That's too bad.”
I'm distracted, looking at shopfronts, trying to find a place to buy a dress rather than go back to the hotel. I find a place pretty easily and walk in. And I'm literally in the middle of composing a text to Bill because I just can't - I can't be with someone named Bill. I cover the microphone, pointing the salesgirl to the dress on the mannequin.
“Taille trente deux, s’il vous plait.”
She nods and walks off to get it.
“I think that's for the best. Bill sounds like a drag. Anyway, so it sounds like everyone is down to go to the club.
“You're cool if huh oh David?”
I think about how he fully abandoned me the other day because things got messy.
“Whatever, cool OK send the location.”
Half an hour later I'm in a slinky slip dress with a new La Perla bra and thong and have used all the samples at Mac to put my face back together. The Molly’s in my bra. I think of Alessandro and how much I wish I could just be ensconced in him again. I don't want to admit it but Diana is right. I can't get everything from some man. What if he? What if it happens again?
My mind is in montage mode - images of my night with him. But they're starting to mingle with memories from the past - Sebastian telling me he liked the nude leotards on me; that I looked good in white too. The way I'd started to wear those colors. He used to tell me what he liked all the time, and I never took it as a compliment alone - I took it as a clue how to win his heart. The dress I picked just now is one I know he'd like. It's like my own taste has sincerely changed so deeply that I re-learned what I liked - all for him - and it still has hold of me.
The club is very close to the Palais Garnier, a nondescript building, no sign on the door, down a nondescript street. The door to the club doesn't even have an address on it - you just have to use context clues. Once you arrive, there's a doorbell and a camera above they look at you through the camera before they buzz you in then once you're in there's another chamber where you wait for them to buzz you through that.
Alicia looks pretty hot in a leather dress I could never pull off and would never try to, and David has pulled out all the stops in his best tailored suit. He smells like hot man musk. He doesn't mention our tension and neither do I. We’re given a card for the bar tab because no wallets or bags are allowed in. When we close out, we're told to collect the card again.
From the entrance, we turn a corner and go down an elegant spiral staircase lit with candles, no light bulbs. There are bowls of different kinds of mints - which the first time I saw them seemed strange but now I get it.
“Trick or treat?” says David, walking down the steps and popping one in his mouth.
Downstairs is a large space that feels cozy and intimate and grand all at once. Despite the building surely being an industrial structure, the ceiling and walls are d****d in heavy velvet and other fabrics that make the whole thing feel like some sort of dark twisted night circus. Everyone is sexy, gorgeous and looks like they have secrets that run deeper than a place like this. Every woman is in heels but most are in sky high ones many with the telltale red bottoms like I am - it just seems right to wear Louboutin to a den of depravity. Everywhere you look in the main room there is confidence.
This is why I wanted to come here, right here! My eyes are alive with the sight of it all. I can feel the fire behind my alert stare burning so brightly that I almost wonder if it's lighting up the room!
We sidle up to the bar where a bartender sets fire to the oils of an orange peel. He then uses a pair of metal tongs to pull a brandied cherry out of a jar, its ox blood juices dripping. He puts it into a cocktail and hands it to a man who takes it and turns away with his tall svelte female partner. I can't place her, but I'm pretty sure she's a Victoria's Secret model.
We all order a Death in the Afternoon. After we clink our glasses, I surreptitiously slip the pill onto my tongue and swallow it back with my drink. I don't know why I'm hiding it - it's not as if either of them would judge me - I think I'm just ashamed to have backslid and something about hiding it from them feels like hiding it from myself. We give the bartender our drink cards.
The thing about a sex club is that no matter what you want out of it, you can find it. You don't have to touch anyone or be touched - in fact, unless you ask to engage in some way, you can also be completely ignored. It's like being a ghost if that's what you want - and then of course if you want to feel utterly primally human you can do that too.
No one has sex in the main bar area here is basically the foreplay of the place it smells like matches from the bar yeast from the champagne bottles and good French perfume. The tables are glass and the chairs are soft but not meant to be sat in for long. All around us couples or threesomes or more of all combinations of sex and age leave to find one of the rooms that are designed with sex in mind.
“Do you guys want to do a shot too?” I ask, my eyes landing on someone who for a moment I think is Alessandro, but I realize is not.
“Uh – “hesitates Alicia.
“Fuck it!” says David.
“Three absinthes,” I say to the bartender, “Blanc, please.”
“I don't think absinth is exactly a shot thing,” says Alicia.
“Come on,” I say.
He louches the absinthe and we watch as it clouds. When he hands them to us, I pound mine only to turn and see David and Alicia staring at me.
“What? I said shots!”
Alicia cringes and David shrugs and pounds his too. She takes half and shakes her head,
“I'm sorry, I just can't do more than that right now - we have a show tomorrow and I don't want to feel like shit.”
I roll my eyes.
We begin to float around. There are small rooms off the beaten track. A couple leaves the doorway as we approach, and we take their spot. Inside the small room - which can't be more than 8 by 8 feet. There are a few divans. On one, there is a man lying on his back. He has a strong capable looking body and tattoos. Again, I am reminded of Alessandro.
A woman with skin the color of caramel and hair an unusual shade of red is straddling his face, grinding on his mouth, and letting out a gasp or moan every so often. At the man's lap there is another girl, this one with short platinum blonde hair and icy looking skin. She is sucking his cock and playing with her clit.
“That’s a lot of multitasking” says David.
“Determination!” says Alicia with a shake of he head.
Neither of them knows about the past with me Jocelyn and Sebastian. All they know is the horror of me getting arbitrarily eviscerated by the press after - and then my peers. I feel like their heads would spin around like the exorcist girl if I told them - not because it's naughty or unusual even- sex is everywhere in ballet - but because it's me and Jocelyn. Everyone knows we used to be best friends, but no one knows how deeply close we were - no one but Sebastian.
There are other people in the room and sexual tangles including one couple, two men, engaging in extremely tender anal sex which I didn't really even know was possible. In the next room there's a mostly female orgy going on and we lose David to a man who approaches him and invites him to the lounge for another glass of champagne.
“I could never do it,” says Alicia gesturing the female orgy, “I get performance anxiety.”
“You perform in front of people all the time, legs spread even!”
“I know but it's not the same.”
I look at her and think about how weird it would be for us to hook up - like kissing my sister. Being with Jocelyn wasn't weird and in fact she feels much more like my sister than Alicia - the way we fight and the way we fucked.
“I'm going to go find someone to make out with,” says Alicia. She doesn't check to see if it's cool with me even though it is. She goes off and disappears.
I go to the bar and get another drink. I hesitate and then order one more absinthe, then pound it. Absinthe is strong. The louche dilutes it a little but it doesn't change the fact that it's anywhere from 90 to 170 proof. I know - I looked it up once. I don't know about the bottle I'm drinking, so I asked to see it. The bottle has a big eye on the label and is called La Fée - the fairy.
I think of Moulin Rouge which I watched for the first time in my own naked post-sex tangle with Jocelyn and Sebastian. We were here, in Paris, and after watching, we got drunk on absinthe and wandered the streets, singing the songs and dancing, laughing, kissing, sharing a cigarette. We walked to the real Moulin Rouge where a show was about to begin. Without thinking about it, Sebastian handed over his card and asked for three VIP tickets to the 11:00 PM show. We had champagne and ate macarons and watched as for once, we were danced for.
The show was a spectacle of feathers and glitter and diamonds, and it was so weird to see the movie and then be there that night. Jocelyn said quite seriously that there was a part of her that wished she was on that stage instead of on ours. I sort of missed those days.
The d**gs are definitely hitting. It gets hazy not long after that. My mind is a flash of pitch-black scenes cut between moments of happiness and those of abject misery. Diana's face, her roaring voice, the idea that I might be told to leave the company. Alessandro 's face, close to mine; the thrill of his touch, his warm breath on my skin. Jocelyn's angry, beautiful face as I left her alone with Sebastian. Sebastian!
Things I don't dare to think cross my mind - like how I still remember what it feels like to want Sebastian and Jocelyn. The relief, combined with terror of losing ballet streaks through me. My body, which I'm twisting and stretching and moving through this crowd of strangers, aches for something I know I can't have.
I wander through the club in a haze. I'm not even sure what's reality at this point I feel as if I'm drifting through my own imagination. It looks like there is a leather mattress in the middle of The Cave. The Cave is even more intimate than the rest of the place even though it's bigger. The lights are an undulated red pink and there are straps and handcuffs on the walls. A girl is hanging from one of the walls holding a leather whip and wiggling it, inviting us - someone - to engage with her.
A tall strapping guy walks up to her and takes the whip. Where a moment before she looked so alpha, she is now beta to him. She turns and he begins to whip her – once, twice, and then three times. The woman moans in ecstasy as he then puts his fingers inside of her.
I am hungry for more. I want to be whipped or be the one whipping, I'm not sure which. Another man comes up and touches him from behind. He continues to engage with the hanging girl. I find myself moving forward to the front of the watching crowd to get a better view. I'm drifting in such a way that I don't even feel like I'm in reality. Maybe I'm not, maybe it's all fantasy. From behind me, a man starts to kiss my neck sensually. I held my head back in to him and to the subtly tingling pleasure of it. I move my hand down to his hard cock, pressed behind me. Then I hear my name called softly and turn to see Alicia, I think she's laughing.
“We're going to go. Are you good?”
I feel myself nodding, though I feel like I'm in a different scene altogether. She laughs and whispers.
“OK - bye babe.”
The man has moved on and I turn back to the woman still hanging from the wall. I'm drawn to her confidence and before I know it, I'm in front of her.
“Mmm, jolie!” she says.
She has harsh black liner and piercing grey eyes, plump lips, and a nose ring. She looks like she could tear my head off. No wonder she likes to be whipped! I start to take the whip from the man when he hands it to me as he falls into lust with the man behind him.
The hanging girl says. “Ah, ah, ah! Naughty dress!”
She is like a playful Faye herself - completely nude but for nipple piercings and a clitoral piercing. I can't help but look at all of her.
I take off my dress. One of the men takes it and I thank him. My bare skin gets a chill even though it's warm here. She lets me take the whip. Expertly, she winds her hands around the leather bondage on her wrists like an acrobat and turns herself around, stretching her legs out and presenting her ass for me. A thrill runs through me. I whip her on the ass, and she lets out a cry of ecstasy. I do it again and again and her smooth ass turns pink. I can see it even in the dim light of The Cave. I don't quite have the conviction I should have, hitting her. I feel funny doing it - not confident enough.
She turns around again and spreads her legs, nodding at the whip. I raise an eyebrow, asking if I'm understanding it right. The two men move to me and began to worship me from my ankles up to my thighs but going no further. I shut my eyes and feel it for a moment.
“You want?”
One of the men gestures to another set of shackles. I'm hazy yet my mind and body are feeling everything with heightened intensity. I know exactly what I want.
“Yes “, I say.
He helps hoist me up. My legs are spread. I am hanging completely at the whim of a stranger. He circles me and says,
“Do you have a safe word?”
I think quickly and I land on Juliet.
“Juliet.” he nods,
He grabs my ass, rubs it gently and then I know it's coming - the smart of the whip. My breathing catches when he reels it back again. He flips it around to the other side where there is a gentler leather end, he smacks my pussy with it, and I call out.
“Again?” he asks.
I nod.
The pleasure and pain together feel like what I need. Somehow, it's unfamiliar and strange and those facts turn me on even more. I am soon dripping. The other man has begun pleasuring the woman next to me and she looks to me and smiles, then reaches her hand out for me to take. I do.
“Je vais jouir! Je vais jouir! Je vais jouir!” she screams out.
She doesn't just come- she squirts all over the man touching her. She lays there moaning lightly.
The man looks at me and asks if I want the same. I say yes. He unshackles me and lays me back on the leather mattress his head moves down my body from my tits to my stomach to between my legs, stopping there to tease my clit with his tongue. My hips arch in pleasure. In front of me, the woman plays with my tit, licks my lips and tells me to feel it. I get the feeling she's a regular here.
Within moments I am calling out,
“Yes, yes, more!” until finally I come.
It's a release like I've never felt.
When I am finished, I unwind myself, legs shaking, and grab my dress off the floor. The woman winks at me and turns away.
I drift through a blur of bodies, feeling as if I'm floating on a cloud of human desire.
I feel my own body as if it were a stranger’s.
END
(The novel follows dancer Sylvie Carter, who finds her career in shambles after five years with the American National Ballet. When a troubling relationship erupts into scandal, she loses everything, becoming a version of herself she doesn't recognize. She vows to never make the same mistake again, but when she runs into a handsome stranger off stage during a rehearsal, she can't help but be drawn to him.
On tour in Europe, Sylvie decides to party in a Paris sex club with Alicia and David, two other dancers. As events play out Sylvie's nner life is revealed. She thinks about Sebastian and Jocelyn, her former lovers in a threesome relationship until they broke up catastrophically and Sebastian was fired from the company. More recently she has been upset by an argument with her boss Diana, who discovered Sylvie had fucked another male lead, Alessandro.)
Chapter 14 Paris. Now. Sylvie.
If you know where to look, in any city, you can find a place to lose yourself in any last place you can find someone who will give you d**gs. If you look hard enough, and know who to ask, you can even find yourself a wonderful intoxicating, only slightly terrifying, sex club.
I need to lose myself. I need to feel everything and nothing. I call Alicia, rolling a pill between my fingers and my jacket pocket. Molly - scored from a guy who looked like he was trying to channel Sid Vicious.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“I found a sex club. Want to go?”
“Oh my God, I was literally just talking about doing that again to David the other day! It ended with his nurse guy by the way.”
“That's too bad.”
I'm distracted, looking at shopfronts, trying to find a place to buy a dress rather than go back to the hotel. I find a place pretty easily and walk in. And I'm literally in the middle of composing a text to Bill because I just can't - I can't be with someone named Bill. I cover the microphone, pointing the salesgirl to the dress on the mannequin.
“Taille trente deux, s’il vous plait.”
She nods and walks off to get it.
“I think that's for the best. Bill sounds like a drag. Anyway, so it sounds like everyone is down to go to the club.
“You're cool if huh oh David?”
I think about how he fully abandoned me the other day because things got messy.
“Whatever, cool OK send the location.”
Half an hour later I'm in a slinky slip dress with a new La Perla bra and thong and have used all the samples at Mac to put my face back together. The Molly’s in my bra. I think of Alessandro and how much I wish I could just be ensconced in him again. I don't want to admit it but Diana is right. I can't get everything from some man. What if he? What if it happens again?
My mind is in montage mode - images of my night with him. But they're starting to mingle with memories from the past - Sebastian telling me he liked the nude leotards on me; that I looked good in white too. The way I'd started to wear those colors. He used to tell me what he liked all the time, and I never took it as a compliment alone - I took it as a clue how to win his heart. The dress I picked just now is one I know he'd like. It's like my own taste has sincerely changed so deeply that I re-learned what I liked - all for him - and it still has hold of me.
The club is very close to the Palais Garnier, a nondescript building, no sign on the door, down a nondescript street. The door to the club doesn't even have an address on it - you just have to use context clues. Once you arrive, there's a doorbell and a camera above they look at you through the camera before they buzz you in then once you're in there's another chamber where you wait for them to buzz you through that.
Alicia looks pretty hot in a leather dress I could never pull off and would never try to, and David has pulled out all the stops in his best tailored suit. He smells like hot man musk. He doesn't mention our tension and neither do I. We’re given a card for the bar tab because no wallets or bags are allowed in. When we close out, we're told to collect the card again.
From the entrance, we turn a corner and go down an elegant spiral staircase lit with candles, no light bulbs. There are bowls of different kinds of mints - which the first time I saw them seemed strange but now I get it.
“Trick or treat?” says David, walking down the steps and popping one in his mouth.
Downstairs is a large space that feels cozy and intimate and grand all at once. Despite the building surely being an industrial structure, the ceiling and walls are d****d in heavy velvet and other fabrics that make the whole thing feel like some sort of dark twisted night circus. Everyone is sexy, gorgeous and looks like they have secrets that run deeper than a place like this. Every woman is in heels but most are in sky high ones many with the telltale red bottoms like I am - it just seems right to wear Louboutin to a den of depravity. Everywhere you look in the main room there is confidence.
This is why I wanted to come here, right here! My eyes are alive with the sight of it all. I can feel the fire behind my alert stare burning so brightly that I almost wonder if it's lighting up the room!
We sidle up to the bar where a bartender sets fire to the oils of an orange peel. He then uses a pair of metal tongs to pull a brandied cherry out of a jar, its ox blood juices dripping. He puts it into a cocktail and hands it to a man who takes it and turns away with his tall svelte female partner. I can't place her, but I'm pretty sure she's a Victoria's Secret model.
We all order a Death in the Afternoon. After we clink our glasses, I surreptitiously slip the pill onto my tongue and swallow it back with my drink. I don't know why I'm hiding it - it's not as if either of them would judge me - I think I'm just ashamed to have backslid and something about hiding it from them feels like hiding it from myself. We give the bartender our drink cards.
The thing about a sex club is that no matter what you want out of it, you can find it. You don't have to touch anyone or be touched - in fact, unless you ask to engage in some way, you can also be completely ignored. It's like being a ghost if that's what you want - and then of course if you want to feel utterly primally human you can do that too.
No one has sex in the main bar area here is basically the foreplay of the place it smells like matches from the bar yeast from the champagne bottles and good French perfume. The tables are glass and the chairs are soft but not meant to be sat in for long. All around us couples or threesomes or more of all combinations of sex and age leave to find one of the rooms that are designed with sex in mind.
“Do you guys want to do a shot too?” I ask, my eyes landing on someone who for a moment I think is Alessandro, but I realize is not.
“Uh – “hesitates Alicia.
“Fuck it!” says David.
“Three absinthes,” I say to the bartender, “Blanc, please.”
“I don't think absinth is exactly a shot thing,” says Alicia.
“Come on,” I say.
He louches the absinthe and we watch as it clouds. When he hands them to us, I pound mine only to turn and see David and Alicia staring at me.
“What? I said shots!”
Alicia cringes and David shrugs and pounds his too. She takes half and shakes her head,
“I'm sorry, I just can't do more than that right now - we have a show tomorrow and I don't want to feel like shit.”
I roll my eyes.
We begin to float around. There are small rooms off the beaten track. A couple leaves the doorway as we approach, and we take their spot. Inside the small room - which can't be more than 8 by 8 feet. There are a few divans. On one, there is a man lying on his back. He has a strong capable looking body and tattoos. Again, I am reminded of Alessandro.
A woman with skin the color of caramel and hair an unusual shade of red is straddling his face, grinding on his mouth, and letting out a gasp or moan every so often. At the man's lap there is another girl, this one with short platinum blonde hair and icy looking skin. She is sucking his cock and playing with her clit.
“That’s a lot of multitasking” says David.
“Determination!” says Alicia with a shake of he head.
Neither of them knows about the past with me Jocelyn and Sebastian. All they know is the horror of me getting arbitrarily eviscerated by the press after - and then my peers. I feel like their heads would spin around like the exorcist girl if I told them - not because it's naughty or unusual even- sex is everywhere in ballet - but because it's me and Jocelyn. Everyone knows we used to be best friends, but no one knows how deeply close we were - no one but Sebastian.
There are other people in the room and sexual tangles including one couple, two men, engaging in extremely tender anal sex which I didn't really even know was possible. In the next room there's a mostly female orgy going on and we lose David to a man who approaches him and invites him to the lounge for another glass of champagne.
“I could never do it,” says Alicia gesturing the female orgy, “I get performance anxiety.”
“You perform in front of people all the time, legs spread even!”
“I know but it's not the same.”
I look at her and think about how weird it would be for us to hook up - like kissing my sister. Being with Jocelyn wasn't weird and in fact she feels much more like my sister than Alicia - the way we fight and the way we fucked.
“I'm going to go find someone to make out with,” says Alicia. She doesn't check to see if it's cool with me even though it is. She goes off and disappears.
I go to the bar and get another drink. I hesitate and then order one more absinthe, then pound it. Absinthe is strong. The louche dilutes it a little but it doesn't change the fact that it's anywhere from 90 to 170 proof. I know - I looked it up once. I don't know about the bottle I'm drinking, so I asked to see it. The bottle has a big eye on the label and is called La Fée - the fairy.
I think of Moulin Rouge which I watched for the first time in my own naked post-sex tangle with Jocelyn and Sebastian. We were here, in Paris, and after watching, we got drunk on absinthe and wandered the streets, singing the songs and dancing, laughing, kissing, sharing a cigarette. We walked to the real Moulin Rouge where a show was about to begin. Without thinking about it, Sebastian handed over his card and asked for three VIP tickets to the 11:00 PM show. We had champagne and ate macarons and watched as for once, we were danced for.
The show was a spectacle of feathers and glitter and diamonds, and it was so weird to see the movie and then be there that night. Jocelyn said quite seriously that there was a part of her that wished she was on that stage instead of on ours. I sort of missed those days.
The d**gs are definitely hitting. It gets hazy not long after that. My mind is a flash of pitch-black scenes cut between moments of happiness and those of abject misery. Diana's face, her roaring voice, the idea that I might be told to leave the company. Alessandro 's face, close to mine; the thrill of his touch, his warm breath on my skin. Jocelyn's angry, beautiful face as I left her alone with Sebastian. Sebastian!
Things I don't dare to think cross my mind - like how I still remember what it feels like to want Sebastian and Jocelyn. The relief, combined with terror of losing ballet streaks through me. My body, which I'm twisting and stretching and moving through this crowd of strangers, aches for something I know I can't have.
I wander through the club in a haze. I'm not even sure what's reality at this point I feel as if I'm drifting through my own imagination. It looks like there is a leather mattress in the middle of The Cave. The Cave is even more intimate than the rest of the place even though it's bigger. The lights are an undulated red pink and there are straps and handcuffs on the walls. A girl is hanging from one of the walls holding a leather whip and wiggling it, inviting us - someone - to engage with her.
A tall strapping guy walks up to her and takes the whip. Where a moment before she looked so alpha, she is now beta to him. She turns and he begins to whip her – once, twice, and then three times. The woman moans in ecstasy as he then puts his fingers inside of her.
I am hungry for more. I want to be whipped or be the one whipping, I'm not sure which. Another man comes up and touches him from behind. He continues to engage with the hanging girl. I find myself moving forward to the front of the watching crowd to get a better view. I'm drifting in such a way that I don't even feel like I'm in reality. Maybe I'm not, maybe it's all fantasy. From behind me, a man starts to kiss my neck sensually. I held my head back in to him and to the subtly tingling pleasure of it. I move my hand down to his hard cock, pressed behind me. Then I hear my name called softly and turn to see Alicia, I think she's laughing.
“We're going to go. Are you good?”
I feel myself nodding, though I feel like I'm in a different scene altogether. She laughs and whispers.
“OK - bye babe.”
The man has moved on and I turn back to the woman still hanging from the wall. I'm drawn to her confidence and before I know it, I'm in front of her.
“Mmm, jolie!” she says.
She has harsh black liner and piercing grey eyes, plump lips, and a nose ring. She looks like she could tear my head off. No wonder she likes to be whipped! I start to take the whip from the man when he hands it to me as he falls into lust with the man behind him.
The hanging girl says. “Ah, ah, ah! Naughty dress!”
She is like a playful Faye herself - completely nude but for nipple piercings and a clitoral piercing. I can't help but look at all of her.
I take off my dress. One of the men takes it and I thank him. My bare skin gets a chill even though it's warm here. She lets me take the whip. Expertly, she winds her hands around the leather bondage on her wrists like an acrobat and turns herself around, stretching her legs out and presenting her ass for me. A thrill runs through me. I whip her on the ass, and she lets out a cry of ecstasy. I do it again and again and her smooth ass turns pink. I can see it even in the dim light of The Cave. I don't quite have the conviction I should have, hitting her. I feel funny doing it - not confident enough.
She turns around again and spreads her legs, nodding at the whip. I raise an eyebrow, asking if I'm understanding it right. The two men move to me and began to worship me from my ankles up to my thighs but going no further. I shut my eyes and feel it for a moment.
“You want?”
One of the men gestures to another set of shackles. I'm hazy yet my mind and body are feeling everything with heightened intensity. I know exactly what I want.
“Yes “, I say.
He helps hoist me up. My legs are spread. I am hanging completely at the whim of a stranger. He circles me and says,
“Do you have a safe word?”
I think quickly and I land on Juliet.
“Juliet.” he nods,
He grabs my ass, rubs it gently and then I know it's coming - the smart of the whip. My breathing catches when he reels it back again. He flips it around to the other side where there is a gentler leather end, he smacks my pussy with it, and I call out.
“Again?” he asks.
I nod.
The pleasure and pain together feel like what I need. Somehow, it's unfamiliar and strange and those facts turn me on even more. I am soon dripping. The other man has begun pleasuring the woman next to me and she looks to me and smiles, then reaches her hand out for me to take. I do.
“Je vais jouir! Je vais jouir! Je vais jouir!” she screams out.
She doesn't just come- she squirts all over the man touching her. She lays there moaning lightly.
The man looks at me and asks if I want the same. I say yes. He unshackles me and lays me back on the leather mattress his head moves down my body from my tits to my stomach to between my legs, stopping there to tease my clit with his tongue. My hips arch in pleasure. In front of me, the woman plays with my tit, licks my lips and tells me to feel it. I get the feeling she's a regular here.
Within moments I am calling out,
“Yes, yes, more!” until finally I come.
It's a release like I've never felt.
When I am finished, I unwind myself, legs shaking, and grab my dress off the floor. The woman winks at me and turns away.
I drift through a blur of bodies, feeling as if I'm floating on a cloud of human desire.
I feel my own body as if it were a stranger’s.
END
1 年 前
