The Club

The Club

By Elizabeth Fulton

It's all about anticipation. She knows some people think it's all about the sex, but it's not. It's simply the delicious, electric anticipation of not knowing what he wants, of trying to read his mind, of responding without words to his touch, his tone, his mood. All she wants is to please him and win his approval.

The value of a moan or a sigh, the delight in a smile, is enough to keep her going for hours. The unspeakable bonus of hearing him say he loves her stops her heart.

And now that he wants to go to the Club, the anticipation is keeping her breathless. She started the whole thing by mentioning it.

"There's a club," she had said. "It's for bondage people. You can watch, you can be private. It's not far."

He looked at her.

A reaction didn't take long.

"I'd like to tie you up," he said one day. "And hit you. With other people watching."

She felt her mouth go dry.

"I'd like to walk in with you wearing a collar and a leash." She shivered. "You would kneel at my feet. How does that make you feel?"

She went blank. Make her feel? Loved and used. In ecstasy and agony. Yearning. Afraid. Burning with desire. As always, wanting to please him, willing to open to anything he proposed.

"Will other people hit me?"

His reaction was swift and sure. "No one else will ever touch you."

She relaxed in his ownership.

"It will be exciting." She watched him. That wasn't the answer he wanted. Would he accept it?

He was silent and let it drop. She knew it wasn't enough, but would do for now. When would they go? She was desperate to know, but smart enough not to push.

A week or so went by, and the Club was never far from her thoughts. She couldn't let herself imagine details; it was too distracting from life.

Finally, out of the blue, he said, "We're going Saturday night."

She couldn't pretend not to know what he was talking about.

"OK," she said. "Is there anything in particular I should wear?"

He looked at her. "Your choice."

She took a deep breath. If he had told her, she wouldn't have had to think about it. By making it her decision, he was forcing her to consider his desires alongside hers, and to make sure his came out on top. Risking his displeasure was never an option. Making a decision she couldn't explain was another forbidden item.

The calendar moved quickly, and Saturday night came. She showered long, carefully shaving her pussy clean. She rubbed scented lotion over her entire body, smoothing it into her skin and imagining his hands. She brushed her hair, letting it flow loose down her back.

She dressed in a pair of black stretch pants and a V-neck sweater, loose but sticking to her curves. She didn't want any of her clothing to leave a mark on her skin, yet she wanted every other person at the Club to look at him with envy.

He picked her up at 9. She slid into the car, expecting some comment, but he made none. She looked around for a collar, a leash, but saw nothing. He didn't offer either one, and simply lit a cigarette and pulled away from the curb.

"How are you tonight?" he asked, as though they were simply together. "Do you want a cigarette?"

"No," she said, her thoughts racing. She sat back and tried to relax as the car made its way nearer their destination. Remember, she said to herself, it's the anticipation. This is part of it. Let go. Don't think.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Nervous."

He smiled. "You know I'll never let anything happen to you that you don't want."

"I know," she said, wondering at the part of her that wanted to be hit, that wanted other people to watch, that wanted everyone to know that she belonged to him, proudly.

They rode in silence.

All too soon, it seemed, they were there. He found a place to park, and she reached for the door of the car. He said nothing, but put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, questioning.

He reached both hands behind her, into her hair, and grabbed it tight. Pulling her close to him, he kissed her deeply. When he let her go, she sat back. When she opened her eyes, he was holding a black leather collar, sparkling with silver studs. She leaned toward him, and he gently placed it around her neck, moving her hair, making sure it wasn't too tight or too loose. She sighed as he closed the buckle.

From nowhere, it seemed, he was holding a leash. About four feet long, with a silver chain and a black leather handle. He clipped it to the ring in the collar. She waited. Staring into her eyes, he gave the leash a tug. She lurched.

"I hope you can be more graceful than that," he said sharply. Tears sprang into her eyes and she bowed her head.

"Don't move." He lit a cigarette and got out of the car. She waited for him to walk around and open the door for her. She must concentrate more and not embarrass him.

Placing her arm through his, they walked a block in the summer heat to the warehouse-looking building. The door was black; no bouncer stood outside. She felt everyone knew what was inside and no one would ever try to go in more than once if they hadn't meant to.

They entered a long hallway, linoleum floor. The lights were dim, and the room was smoky. It smelled stale, used. He walked forward boldly, not touching the leash, just letting it hang between her breasts.

At the end of the hall was a window, covered in a metal mesh. A woman, heavy and tough, dressed in black leather, looked them over. He started right back, relaxed, confident. Without any fuss, he paid for them and, giving her a little nudge, walked behind her around the corner of the hallway into the main bar area.

Her eyes opened wide. Almost 100 people stood at the bar or sat around small tables scattered around the floor. They were just people. She realized that she had expected them all to be dressed in leather, or be all naked, or all somehow different. Some of them turned to look at her but looked away, their curiosity satisfied.

He found an empty table and motioned her to it. She sat and waited while he walked to the bar to get them something to drink. He started talking to the bartender.

She looked around again. Along one side of the room was a large wooden X, chains hanging from the corners. A bench, sort of a chair, was next to it, padded so that a body could be bent over it and stretched tight. From another room she could hear the sounds of a paddle? Whip? Someone moaning sharply. Oh God, what had she agreed to? She took a deep breath. He was still talking to the bartender, and she knew that whatever he had planned for tonight, he was making sure it would happen exactly as he wanted.

There it was again . . . the anticipation. She wished there were a way of holding onto the intensity forever, of freezing time and never feeling empty again. She sighed and told herself to mentally stay put.

How did this work, she wondered. Did someone just get up and get tied to a table and everyone went on with their conversations? What was going on in the back rooms?

Turning her head, she noticed him walking back to her carrying two glasses. He sat in the other chair and sipped his soda. He said nothing for a long while.

Then he rose, turned to her and grabbed the leash. "Let's go," he said. She looked up questioning. He turned away, pulling her toward the back of the club. She got up and followed him out of the room, down another corridor. A high window was cut into one of the walls, and he walked to it and stopped. She stood next to him to look. He tightened his grip on the leash and yanked her toward him.

"Remember who's in charge," he said. "You question nothing. You do what I tell you. You speak to no one."

She nodded, and didn't speak.

"Good girl," he said, kissing her softly. "Now look."

She stared into the window. A woman was chained to another cross, her back to them. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed in black leather, her mouth filled with a gag. Her legs and ass were crisscrossed with marks from a whip. She was panting.

Standing behind her was another woman, pacing back and forth, stopping every once in a while to lean close and say something to the bound woman, who squirmed or arched herself backward after every comment.

He pulled her closer with the leash.

"Is that what you want?" he asked.

She bent her head down and nodded.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"Yes."

He snapped the leash down and brought her to her knees.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please," she moaned.

"Stay here," he said. "Don't move."

She settled back down on her heels and waited. Underneath the tension she could feel herself getting excited, wet, opening for him. She swallowed, feeling the pressure of the collar.

Hearing his footsteps, she again bent her head down. She saw his hand grab the leash and he pulled her to her feet and walked back to the main room. She followed behind him.

Was it her imagination, or did the room seem fuller? Were people looking at them now? She turned her focus on him and felt herself free from fear. She closed her eyes.

He walked with her over to the large wooden X. She felt him tug down on the leash and push her to her knees again. The leash dropped and she waited. He reached down and grabbed the hem of her sweater, lifting it over her head and feeding the leash through the neck. He took her wrists, one at a time, and she felt leather cuffs being buckled. Another tug on the leash and she was standing.

"Turn around," he said, and she put her back to him.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pushed them off her, removing her shoes at the same time. With his foot, he kicked her legs apart. She became aware that the room was quieter. Or was it just the noise in her head drowning out all other sound?

She felt the leash again pulling her forward, and felt the coarse wood of the cross on her belly. She stopped, and felt her left arm being attached to a chain over her head. Her other arm followed, and then he placed cuffs on her ankles and chained her legs to the bottom of the cross.

The chain of the collar was pulled straight and attached to a hook in the center of the cross so her head was kept straight, her neck arched. She sighed.

"Are you ready?" he whispered. She felt his warmth, but he didn't touch her. She struggled a little, trying to reach him.

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, please."

He stepped away. She still had her eyes closed, and the rest of the room faded from her. She braced herself, not knowing what was coming. Moments passed, and she felt his hand run down her back, stopped to cup her ass and squeeze. His fingers teased between her legs. She stretched toward him, feeling her wetness spill over onto her thighs.

Suddenly, she felt the sharp sting of a slap on her ass. She caught her breath and her hands grabbed the cross. Another slap, followed by another. She could feel the fire where he was hitting her. He had never done this before, slapping her without running his hands between her legs, pushing his fingers inside her, balancing the pain with pleasure.

He kept slapping, alternating hands, sometimes hitting flat on her ass, sometimes moving down the inside of her thighs, sometimes hitting right between her legs. She was burning up, squirming with pain and desire. There was a roaring in her head and she felt an orgasm coming. Then he stopped. She moaned.

"Did you like that?" he said, right in her ear, not waiting for her answer but moving away. Her insides were liquid, her pussy soaked, her clit pulsing with need. She tried pressing her belly forward and backward but there was nothing but air in either direction. She moaned again, this time in frustration.

"Are you ready for more?" he asked. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him standing at her side. He was holding a multi-tipped black leather whip with a dildo for a handle. It was covered with a rubber, glistening with lubricant.

"Oh, yes," she said. "Please, please."

He smiled and moved where she could no longer see him. She felt him come closer and run the dildo up between her legs, almost rubbing her clit. She stiffened and pushed back, but he was faster.

"Not yet," he said, and the whip whistled through the air and landed at the curve of her ass. She gasped and hissed with the unexpected pain. This time, though, he rubbed her again with the dildo, letting it rest on her clit for a moment before stepping back and letting the whip work. Again and again he alternated between the whip and the dildo, until she was writhing back and forth, moaning words that made no sense, feeling her body about to explode.

With a final crack of the whip, he walked closer to her and rammed the dildo into her pussy, sliding it in and out quickly. She came immediately, shuddering, rubbing herself backward into him, digging her fingers into the wood. Her entire body pulsed with the shock, and she could feel her wetness dripping for everyone to see.

He pulled out the dildo and leaned closer to her, stroking her hair and released the leash from its hook.

"That was for you," he said, unclipping her wrist and bending down to do the same to her ankles. He walked to her other side and let her other wrist go.

"Turn around," he said, grabbing the leash. She did, bending her head to the floor.

"Don't move," he told her, and reached into a corner, picking something up and fiddling with the cross. He finished, and stood in front of her.

"This one is for me," he said, bending and kissing her lightly on the lips and forehead. He walked forward, and she had no choice but to move backward. She felt something hard and padded hit her lower back, and she stumbled.

He grabbed her wrist, bending it to reattach it to the top of the cross. He attached her other wrist, and she finally understood what the padding was. He had placed a wooden piece on the cross that kept her pelvis pushed out. He bent and attached her ankles to their corners, and stood back to look at her.

She was arched toward the main room, unable to move her ass backward into a straight line. He walked back and forth in front of her for a few moments, then smiled to himself and reached for something on the floor. When he stood he was holding two pieces of soft rope.

She watched him with curiosity as he made a loop with one piece, and ran it over her upper thigh. Pulling it tighter, he sent the rope over the edge of the cross, and fastened it. He then did the same the other side. She gasped as his intentions became clear to her. Not only was her belly pushed forward, but her thighs were now spread wide open, and her pussy was visible to everyone. It glistened in the dim light.

Closing her eyes, she bent her head back. He snapped the leash forward.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Do not close your eyes. See the man there with the blue sweater?" He asked. She lifted her eyes to the left back corner of the room and nodded.

"See the woman in the green dress?" he asked, and she looked in the back of the other side of the room.

"I want you to tell me on the ride home everything that they did while they were watching you. Do not take your eyes off of them. Understand?"

She sighed and tried to keep still, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She looked at the man, and saw him staring back at her. The woman was taking a sip of a drink.

She nodded her head, and earned another gentle kiss.

He stepped back, and again bent to the floor to pick something up. Quickly glancing down, she saw a long leather piece, about as thick as a pencil, with a small, thick square of leather at the end. He moved it, and it was very flexible.

She waited, watching the woman in the green dress stare at her. And then he snapped the rod, and the small square of leather hit the inside of her thigh. Red exploded into her vision as she let out a yelp. He smiled at her, and snapped the rod again, this time on the other thigh.

For the next half hour? Hour? She lost track of the time as he bounced the leather pad off her thighs, her pussy, her breasts and her belly, turning them bright pink with distress. She squirmed and moaned and watched the man and the woman never take their eyes off of her. She saw the man drop his hand into his lap and smile at her. Every time her eyes closed, even if just for a moment, a particularly harsh slap would reopen them immediately.

Glancing down again, she could see how excited he was, how hard. She wanted him to take her down, turn her over, and ram his cock into her right now. Her pain started moving again into desire. She moaned, and he sensed her change of mood,

Stopping the hitting, he walked in front of her and ran his fingers through her sopping pussy.

"You're so hot," he said, close to her ear. "You feel so good."

He stroked her clit, moving his finger rapidly and rubbing. She held her breath and leaned her head back, lost in the sensation. Suddenly he stopped and she realized she had taken her eyes off her assigned people. As soon as she lifted her head, he started again.

"You want my fingers in you, don't you" he asked, without expecting an answer. She writhed and tried to push toward his hand, but couldn't really move. Slowly, he teased his fingers further back into her pussy. Maddeningly, slippery, he finally reached his goal and slipped his fingers inside of her, curling them and moving them deeper.

She came immediately, and felt the shock of it through her entire body as it shook with need.

"You can do that again," he said, watching her. He kept stroking slowly, keeping his fingers buried deep inside her.

"You love that everyone is watching you," he said softly, leaning into her body. "You are so hot, so wet, so beautiful. Go ahead and cum for me." He picked up the pace of his fingers, and used his other hand to reach out and squeeze a nipple hard, twisting and pulling it and making her gasp.

She wanted so much to make it last, to stay forever in this building pressure of pleasure, to scream aloud with boiling desire. She wanted him to untie her and throw her on the floor and fuck her right there, hard, and hold him and suck him into her mouth and make him feel her uncontrollable want. She wanted to watch his eyes glaze with need, for him to call her name, to feel him shudder and want her, only her.

And then she couldn't stop the rushing feeling, bursting from her center and pulsing out to every part of her body. She let out a loud moan, tossing her head from side to side, trying to keep watch on her people and explode at the same time. Even her toes curled in pleasure. Her fingers stretched out and then clenched into fists, and she let herself fall into the orgasm, knowing he would catch her and bring her back.

She hung, limp, as reality poured back into her. She became aware of sounds, of light, of the salty, sharp smell of her body, of his closeness as he brushed the hair off her face. He released her thighs and ankles, and wrapped an arm around her waist as he let loose her wrists, and she stumbled against him, exhausted.

He walked her out of the room, and into a private back room. He sat on a sofa and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her back. She sighed deeply and put her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. As she moved, she realized they were alone, and he was still hard, needing her.

She slid off his lap and sat at his feet, looking up at him. He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. She loved him like this, open and waiting for her to please him. She ran her hands up his legs and to his waist, swiftly opening his pants. He lifted himself up and she pulled his pants off, tossing them on the couch.

He was still hard, a teasing drop of liquid shimmering at the very tip of his cock. She leaned over and licked it off, savoring the taste and making him sigh. She bent her head down, careful to keep her hair back so he could watch. With a quick movement, she took his cock into her mouth, where she bathed it in heat. He sighed and called her name.

"That's right," he said. "That's good."

His words lit a new fire inside her and she bent over him with burning lust. She swirled her tongue up and down his cock, sucking and licking and feeling him sweat with need. She felt powerful and the most intense helplessness at the same time, looking up at him and seeing him bite his lower lip.

He reached down and grabbed the leash and yanked her up onto the sofa, pushing her onto her back and spreading her legs wide. He moved his body between them and sank his cock into her pussy in one quick movement, gasping with pleasure. He leaned her legs on his shoulders, bending over to watch himself move in and out of her. She let her eyes close, let all the feelings of the evening pour over her, felt another orgasm get ready to roll through her body. He knew she was ready, and slammed into her, keeping control of himself.

Letting out a short scream, she curled up and grabbed him around the waist, once again shuddering and feeling her pussy contract around his cock, rippling and squeezing. He pulled out and shoved her back onto the floor at his feet.

"Suck my cock," he said, and she tasted her own salty wetness on him as she obeyed his demand. "Suck it hard,"

She lost track of time again as she licked and sucked, running her hands between his legs, squeezing him, feeling him grab her hair in his hands and push himself into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. She felt him stiffen, and his cock shot into her mouth. She swallowed every drop, loving the short moment he released control to her.

Sitting back on her heels, she watched his breathing slow and his eyes open again and look at her. The anticipation of the evening was over, and she was ready to sleep in his arms.

He stood and dressed. "Wait here," he said, and left the room. When he returned he had her clothes, and she dressed. Without touching the leash, or her, he walked out again, and she followed him. He collected the rest of their belongings at the front cage, and they walked out into the dawn of a breaking day.