The Briars Club

Note: The actions described here are dangerous, untested and sick this is not a how to, it is a work of fiction, a fantasy do not try and recreate anything described in this story.

The Briars Club

By J.D. McMaster

Part 1, Amy

Chapter 1

Amy looked up from the quarterly financual reports for Anderson & Associates. With a pleased smile, it was shaping up to be a great year. She noticed the time and her smile quickly faded. "Damn, I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry," she thought as she gathered the reports and called out to her assistant. "May, I've got to leave now, or I’m going to be late. Be a dear, file the quarterlies, and straiten my desk before you leave, but first, call Carver, have him bring the car around.

In a moment May Wilson, Amy’s personal assistant came into Amy’s office and announced that Carver (the chauffer) would have the car at the executive elevator doors in five minutes.

“Have a great vacation, see you in two weeks?” Amy said cheerfully, as she got to her feet and pulled out her brief case/bag.

“Yes, Miss, and thank you for letting me have this time, it was very important to me.” May said. “One of the more experienced temps from Wiggins will be here on Monday and everything is ready for her.”

“Good! And bye for now May. See you in two weeks.” Amy had packed a few papers & her lap top in a bag and was heading for the elevator door.

May looked up from straightening her boss’s desk and said with a broad smile, "You have a nice weekend, Miss Anderson.”

As elevator doors slipped shut, Amy waved. The elevator started the trip down the sixty eight floors to ‘parking level 1exe.’ Amy nervously glanced at her wriest watch, “Damn it, there is no way I’m not going to be late,” she thought. She stood the in elevator car nervously tapping the elegant toe of her left foot, musing on the fact that the elevator which usually went so fast, now seemed to be going at a snails pace. Finally the doors “whooshed’ open and Carver was there, standing by the open rear door of the limousine.

“The Briers Club, back entrance, and Carver, please hurry. I’m going to be late, and I don’t want it to be any worse than it has to be.” She flashed him a smile as she said this and he nodded and said in return, “Of course miss.” He shut the door and sprinted around to the drivers’ side, slide in and drove the car out of the parking garage and on to the busy streets of the city.

The trip would take fifteen to twenty minutes, and little would change it for the better. Carver was an excellent driver, none better. He was at that moment, no doubt, looking for the best possible route out of town and to the club. Amy pulled two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, took out her laptop, switched it on and settled back in the seat. “Might as well work out the schedule for the next few weeks,” She thought as she opened the first water bottle and drank deeply, from experience she knew that she needed to get well hydrated. She settled the laptop on her knees, opened a file and started to work, absently taking sips of water.

“Miss?” Carver interrupted her train of thought, she looked up. The privacy panel was down, their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

“Yes.” Amy invited.

“I’m Sorry, Miss Anderson, but it’s going to take us at least thirty more minutes. The traffic is that bad tonight.”

She nibbled her lip for a moment, then said, “Oh well, it can’t be helped. Just do the best you can, Carver. Thank you.”

As the privacy panel slide back up, Amy did some quick calculations. She would be fifteen, maybe even thirty minutes late, or more. She killed the water bottle, threw it away and opened the second, drank and went back to her work.

The crunch of the gravel drive brought Amy up from her work; she recognized the drive up to The Briers Club. The Briers Club was a stately building situated on a low hill just out of the city. The main building had a gravel roadway leading up to the front portico with the main entrance underneath. Continuing around the building to the rear was a large parking lot and the private, members only, entrance. The parking lot had gated underground parking for those guests staying for extended times and lower levels for employees. Gravel roads and paths lead to various venues around the club complex.

To the west along the highway ran the golf course, beyond that just over a hill the gun club. To the east along the road was a driving range, tennis courts, swimming pools and behind that a 100 acre equestrian park. The Briers Club had all the amenities, all first class, an expensive and exclusive country club taking up hundreds of acres between the highway and a large river. Of course there was a boat dock and yacht club on the river, even a man made connected lake and a half mile long sculling canal shield from the river by a levee and large trees. Every thing was secluded, screened off, private and patrolled by a private security force.

Membership in The Briers Club was by invitation only, three Senior Members had to sponsor you, and the buy-in was seventy-five thousand dollars, non-refundable. After the vetting process your membership was voted on and then you were ‘IN’. Membership was in three layers, Partners, Senior Members and Associate Members. Partners and Senior Members had full rights of the club and its property, meaning they had pretty much the run of the place, also unfettered access to other Clubs in other locations. Associate Member could not invite guests with out approval, were not ‘invited’ to some functions, and had rights to use only general use property and they were watched, rather closely.

Guests were only allowed at specific times and in specific places, although exceptions were grant, occasionally.

Amy sighed heavily glanced at her watch and shook her head. She shut down her computer returned it to its case, finishing just as Carver opened the limo door. As Amy slide out, she said to Carver, “I expect to leave Sunday morning around 10, be ready for my call, Please.”

“Yes, Miss, and have a wonderful time.”

“Thank you, Carver. You enjoy your weekend too.” Amy said distractedly as she hurried up the steps towards the door.

The Chauffer watched the receding back off his employer. “Damn fine woman, always polite and nice,” said to himself. “To bad she got mixed up in all this, but, oh well, her loss, my gain, maybe!” He had started working for her about eighteen months ago, just after she first joined the ‘The Masters Association’, the Briers Club being the local chapter, so to speak. Carver had got the job as Amy Anderson’s driver through the good offices of one of the Senior Members at the club. Amy of course knew nothing about this, yet.  The car went into the underground parking, and James Carver started his part time job.

Amy Jane Anderson, 29, single, only daughter of the late William and Anna Anderson, CEO and Chairperson of the Board of Anderson & Associates. Wealthy, successful, & beautiful, an in-charge, type A young woman on the raise. Amy hurried up the steps of the Briars club. As she reached the top of the steps the doorman opened the door for her and she hurried on into the club, the interior doors slide a-side and she moved toward the man behind the desk in the foyer. At the desk she placed her right hand a black screen and removed it only when the flashed green. She stepped back, feet together, legs and back straight, shoulders back, arms at her side and head bowed. “Slave zero six one five nine,” she said to the man in a whisper that only he could hear.

“Go.” Said the man behind the desk.

Amy turned with military precision to her right, walked to the door in that wall. As soon as she reached it the light to the left of the door went from red to green, and a faint click could be heard. Amy hesitated a second, swallowed then hauled the door open and walked through, stopping in the center of the room.

The door clicked shut again and Amy was in the terrifyingly familiar room. Preparation  room A it was called, the room was lined in mirrors; every wall, and bright lights shined down from the four corners and along the sides of the ceiling, to her right stood a cart with a wire basket. Amy knew what she had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier, neither did the fact that she had done it many, many times before. ‘Oh God,” she mumbled to herself, realising that she had been standing there doing nothing.

First placed her bag on the bottom of the basket, came back to attention, waited. Then she removed her wriest watch, her ring & tennis bracelet, then her earrings and finally a necklace and the locket that was never removed except in this room, or possibly one like it. This locket was worn to remind Amy who, and what she was. She dropped these items into a box and returned the box to its position in the basket, waited a second. Then her left leg bent at the knee bring her shoe within reach of her left hand, she slipped off her shoe and repeated this action on the right. Amy moved with practiced precision, and she had to be precise. Any wrong move, doing any thing in the wrong way meant punishment, swift and sure. She placed the shoes on the horns at one end of the basket, and returned to the position of attention she had taken in front of the man at the desk in the foyer, it was ‘waiting position one. After standing like this for one second, at least, she could remove the next article of clothing. She slipped off her jacket, she wore a navy blue business suit with a White silk blouse and a red scarf, all business but feminine. The suite and blouse also met her clothing restrictions.

A disembodied voice intoned, “Strip to the waist first, then the rest.” It seemed more humiliating because the voice always sounded bored.

Amy pulled the knot in the scarf, absently folded it and placed it in the basket. Stood at attention, waited one second, then she un-buttoned the buttons of her blouse, pulling it out from the waist band of her skirt. Amy slipped the blouse off her shoulders and arms, folded it neatly and placed it in the basket. Once again she repeated the drill, stood at attention, waited one second, and then continued. This is taking forever she thought; maybe I’m waiting too long.

Amy’s hands went to the hallow between her breasts, opening the clasp of her bra, she dropped her arms and shrugged the garment off, folded it and put it with the rest of her clothes.

As Amy came to attention, back straight, shoulders back, breast thrust out she watched her own humiliation. There had to be people watching, she knew that, but was she being recorded? Amy saw her reflection. Chest nut brown hair, reflecting a hint of auburn, falling in waves over her shoulders and half-way down her back, bright green eyes staring out from under arched brows, a straight nose and full, generous lips over a strong chin, she may not be gorgeous, but certainly striking. Amy thought her breasts were her best feature; it seemed that many Members agreed. They stood high and firm, tipped with rose-brown areolas and teats about the size of a thick 1st graders pencil and one/third of an inch long. Each sported a surgical steel ring, plated gold. Amy would never forget the moment of her piercing.

Amy gathered her wayward thoughts and resumed stripping herself. Her hand brought the hem of her knee length skirt up at the sides until she could hook her thumbs in the waist band of her panties. She hauled the scrap of lace and silk over the swell of her buttocks, down her thighs, past her knees and bending at the waist stepped out, first the left foot then the right. Folded, her panties were dropped in the bin. Back to attention, wait, then she continued.

Amy worked the buttons at the waist band of her skirt, unzipped it and stepped out, left foot first then the right. Skirt folded and in the wire basket, she returned to attention, and counted in her mind one – one thousand and continued

Amy’s hand went to the suspenders of her garter belt and unhooked the back then the front of the suspender from her hose, this was repeated on the right leg then her fingers worked the fastener at the waist, and her garter fell free. She automatically folded the item and placed it in the basket too. Amy stood at attention, waited one second. Then she started on the last of her clothing.

Bending at the waist she rolled the nylon stocking down the length of her leg and pulled it off her left foot. Pulling it out straight she folded it in half and repeated the procedure on the right, folding the two stockings together, she placed them in the bin. No sooner was this done than a door to her left opened after what she hoped was a second she walked, naked, in to the next room

Chapter 2

If the first room was mildly annoying and a little humiliating, this room would be considered a chamber of horrors, a bright, clean chamber of horrors, but a place of fear none-the-less. The floor was tiled in white with a basin about ten inches wide, and a foot and a half long on each side extending out three feet or so an inch wide line of red tiles marked the mid-point of the basin. The walls, like the previous room were mirrored, bright lights blazed down from the ceiling. A number of tubes and tools hung just out of reach dangles down from the black void that was the ceiling. This was preparation room B.

Amy walked into this room with a grim sort of determination, and quite a bite of fear, she had, after all, been down this road before. She straddled the basin heels on the red line just so, covering the line but not extending behind that line. At least Amy hoped that was so. Feet spread twice the width of her shoulders, about four feet apart. Her fingers laced behind the neck, elbows and shoulders well back, eyes locked straight ahead. She had learned this position, called ‘presentation position #1’ months ago,

The mirror in front of Amy reflected back the image of a beautiful young woman; naked swan necked slender, but not anorexic. Firm muscles rippled beneath flawless skin. Her belly was flat and showed just the hint her of a six-pack pack abdominals. Long, strong legs, firm thighs and well muscled calves gave way to trim ankles and long thin delicate, high arched feet. She had pale pink toenails, to match her finger nails.

All this beauty came at a price. Up at four a.m. three days a week she was at the gym with a personnel trainer who worked her mercilessly for an hour and a half each session, and forty minutes on the tread mill and twenty on the rowing machine, in her home, the other four days. A hour or two every week at a salon for beauty treatments, exfoliations, mud baths, facials, waxing, manicure, pedicure; whatever they told her to do she did it. Lastly there was the food Nazi, her nutritionist who told her what and how much to eat, and what not to eat and drink. It all kept her in great shape and the pink of health. It might have been fine with Amy, but none of this was HER choice. It all happened so ‘They,’ the Members, would be happy with her looks. It mattered to them not one whit what Amy thought about it, or, come to that, if she thought about it.

A man came into the room and in front of Amy. He wore black cargo style pants, black shoes, and a black wife-beater t-shirt, and a mask that covered the top of his head from the nose and jaw up. Clear blue eyes bored into her green eyes, she blinked. He laughed.

“Number?”

“Slave zero six one five nine, Sir.”

A tool, with a hose or electric cord dropped down, attached was a device that looked that a head brace that orthodontists give to their patients to straiten their teeth while they sleep. He put the thing on the back of Amy’s head and brought the works down not to her teeth, but to her nose. Fixtures fitted into her nostrils. ‘Sir’ snapped the levers on the side and this action pull Amys' nostrils out, up and back exposing her upper septum, a grommet glinted there.

“Head back, slut,” he growled.

Amy lifted her chin and the guard caught her lower lip and pealed it down. There tattooed in bright blue ink on the inside of Amy’s lip was the number “06-159’, the guard checked the number against the number engraved on the ring in the tool, it was the same. He also checked the delicate, raised pink scar on the inside of her left thigh, two or three inches down from the joining of her leg and torso, it was a rose bud and stem, the number ‘06-159’ running along the stem. He pulled the trigger and the jaws of the tool opened with a click. He put the peg on the ring through the grommet in Amy’s nose and pulling the trigger again the tool and the ring closed with a snap, locking the ring in place.

The head gear was removed, the tool was retracted back into the ceiling, the guard stepped away leaving Amy blinking back tears and swallowing against a lump in her throat. This part of the process always brought Amy close to tears. Here she, Amy Anderson, stood, nothing but a sex slave, no more than a toy of the powerful. A naked slave with rings through piercing in her body, her mother and father would have been disgusted to see her this way.

“Tongue out, mouth wide!”

Amy obeyed, almost glad for the distraction this provided. The guard removed the small, almost un-noticeable studs from her tongue and replaced them. A ring as big around as a quarter replaced the stud at the tip of her tongue, this had been used in a number of different restraints, mostly to attach a leash, at the center of her tongue a large dumbbell stud, with two balls attached to it by tiny chains, replaced the small stud meant only to keep the hole in her tongue open. With these new appliances her blow-jobs would be great. These were just one example of the many different types that were she had used. The ‘tip ring’ worried Amy; it was a harbinger of pain to come.

”Shut your cock-sucking mouth, whore. Hips forward, flex your knees.”

The man sat on a small stool that some one to her right handed him. Amy followed his instruction which had the effect of bring her vulva into prominence. The stool the guard was sitting on had wheels and a mirror attachment, the mirror was pushed between her legs. It gave him a complete, unobstructed view of her genitalia. His first action was to pull, twist and slide the nipple rings through the holes.

Apparently satisfied he moved on to her navel, removing the studs there, one above, the other below the navel. These were replaced by a navel jewel with an emerald green stone. It attached though both piercing and a ring dangled below, this too could be used as a point of attachment. “Not a good sign,” mused Amy, “I must be in real trouble.”

Amy was wearing the standard chastity device, four small rings had been attached to the labia minora on each side, and a dumbbell stud was placed in the piercing under the shaft of the clitoris in such a way as to push the hood back exposing the sensitive tip. A ring pierced in the perineum at posterior of the vulva had a threaded ball, a bar threaded through the rings on the inner lips and screwed in to the ball on the perineum ring held them tightly together, the top end of the bar locked onto the dumbbell stud in the clit and locking the vagina and clitoris away from Amy and anyone else not authorized entry. When wearing this Amy was unable to masturbate, have intercourse, or even douche, she found this device humiliating and degrading in the extreme.

The guard unlocked the bar from Amys clit. Unscrewed the bar and pulled it through the rings. “Ok, bitch. You’re open for business,” he said conversionally. Without waiting for a response he continued, “Inspection #2.”

Amy bent at the waist as far as she could, which was very nearly double. She could feel cool air blowing on her anus and vulva. She widened her stance and felt her labia parting.

The guard pushed the stool back to the unseen assistant, stepped behind Amy patting her absently on the ass-cheek.

Amy could see the man again, although her view was up-side-down, she felt him first pat her bottom, and then run his fingers lightly up one side of her crotch and down the other. He caressed her clit, the rammed his middle finger in her vagina, swirled it around, then removed it. His index finger invaded her anus, thrust in and out; it too swirled around, and wiggled as if digging for something, then it was removed with a pop.

‘Up,” he ordered and Amy rose, “God, fish-cunt, you stink!”

Amy blushed. “What the hell do you expect,” she thought, “I haven’t been able to douche, since I was here a week and a half ago.”

“And you got shit on my finger, do you need a lesson on how to clean yourself out?” He asked rhetorically, holding up his index finger showing her a tiny speck of brown matter on the fingernail. “Clean them off now!”

His fingers were thrust in front of her face; she licked, sucked and laved each finger until he removed them from her mouth. Two young women came silently into the room. They were naked except for inch wide steel cuffs around their wriest and ankles, and a matching collar around their necks.

“Scrub her with a number two brush and use the lye-soap. Give her a Vinegar douche, use the largest nozzle, and three very large enemas; clear hot, soapy hot and clear cold, the plug nozzle, she’s to hold it five minutes each. After that is finished cut off the extra rings, groom her and dress her in basic cuffs, collar and black shoes, and get her to operations for assignment.” Having said this he turned and disappeared through the door.

One of the two naked slaves whispered, “We’ll be as gentle as possible. Relax as much as you can.” She pushed a very large bulb nozzle into Amy’s bottom; once the bulb was in a ring just out side Amy’s anal sphincter tightened trapping her flesh and sealing the enema about to come, in her. Almost immediately the very warm sensation of the first enema flooded her being in a moment Amy was sweating and felling the cramps roll through her stomach.

“Hold it slut!” the blond slave girl said loudly for those listening in. At the same time the other girl whispered, encouragingly, “Hold on dear. Half way there. You can do it.”

Amy’s legs were shaking from the strain, her stomach rolled and cramped. The nozzle deflated and was pulled roughly out.

“Now! Shit it all out slut.” The red head demanded crudely, she had offered the soft words of encouragement moments ago.

Amy dropped to a squat over the drain basin and pushed, not that the enema needed to be pushed out but Amy had learned all the little tricks that slave girls, and no one else, had to know. She empted out quickly and completely, and then resumed her position and the enema was repeated with hot soapy water.

After the last clear rinse, a freezing cold one, had been administered Amy Stood up Straight leaned back and locked her knees. The douche nozzle was inserted and the inside wash was completed on her “front hole.”

As Amy stood the two slaves sprayed her down with an astringent soap and then scrubbed her down with stiff bristle-brushes. The soap and the stiff brushes left her skin stinging and tingling. The prosess was a very good exfoliation. She was then shampooed and braided into a French-braid, perfumed, powdered, her finger and toenail polish was changed to clear. Next the slaves cut off all of Amy’s body piercing except the bar holding back her clit-hood, a ring attachment was snapped on there. She was dressed in a black patent-leather collar and wriest-cuffs, six inch stiletto heeled, strapped sandals, and nothing else.

Thirty-five minutes after she had first arrived, Amy was walking down a hallway toward operations to get her work assignments and receive the immediate punishments that she had “earned” so far, please god she would not get to many more this weekend. She was actually being lead down the hall way on a leash attached to her nose ring the chain running through the clitoris ring. Her wrists were locked behind her back and Amy was concentrating on her walk, each foot being placed in a line as he walked, this made her butt wiggle invitingly as she walked the slave slut walk. This hallway was like so many other hallways in this place, a servant’s hallway white wall, acoustic tile ceilings, off white tile floors. It was lighted with running florescent lights and evenly spaced smoked black bulbs, with cameras inside she guessed. It was an anonymous, nondescript used for the servants and slaves to go here and there around the complex with out disturbing the style, mood, and atmosphere of sophistication at ‘The Briars Club’.

Just as Amy and her attendant arrived at Operations an electronic beep-beep hustled them to the wall and a golf cart like vehicle drove by with lights flashing, a figure on a stretcher covered in a blanket was being attended to bye medical personal. Something had gone badly for some one, and a slave had been hurt. The attendant and Amy exchanged glances that spook universal slave girl an exchanged that spoke a silent “good luck, and don’t piss a master off.”

They went through the door into the Operations Center and the attendant removed the leash and left Amy standing in front of a stern looking woman with a clip board, she fixed Amy with a malevolent stare over the top of her reading glasses.

After a second she spoke to Amy, “Well, speak up! Or are you Dumb as well as late?”

Suggestions and HELPFUL criticism welcome. E-mail me at jdmcmaster101@live.com

Any ideas are also welcome, this is a work in progress.