Otherwise Engaged

This story deals with themes of reluctance and coercion in a female dominant setting.

If you think that you might be offended please try a different story.

Otherwise Engaged

Chapter One

Once inside the club we decided to stick to beer only because it was the cheapest option. I was not used to drinking in litres and I was losing track of how much I had actually consumed.

I checked myself in the mirror of the men's room and decided that I was mildly drunk.

The club was in a basement on Reestraat, on the fringes of the red light district, and would not have been an obvious choice, but a couple of guys from work had been in Amsterdam on a stag night a few months earlier and they had recommended it.

The subdued lighting disguised the shabbiness of the fixtures and fittings but our eyes were glued to the small stage area set at the centre of the circular bar. Two girls were pole dancing to a track by The XX.

I loved the music, and this was the last setting in which I would have expected to hear it, but the girls were completely tuned in to the languid rhythm and they held far more allure than anything I had seen in London clubs.

Neither of them was particularly stunning but they were both naturally well-endowed and knew how to make the best of what they had. Every now and again they would reach out to one another suggestively egged on by the small audience and, not least, my four companions.

All around the bar there were small balls each made up of a single bunched stocking. We were encouraged to roll up Euro notes, insert them into the balls, and toss them beyond the bar staff into baskets strategically placed on the stage.

Some recess in my mind registered that this was a clever idea as clients vied with one another to 'score' in the baskets but the club heavies were watching carefully to make sure that only bank notes were thrown.

Another beer arrived and I was wishing that I had had more to eat but now other girls were trying to draw us away from the bar stalls into the lounge area where lap dances were on offer.

My friends pooled some funds and I was entertained by a stunning Eurasian girl wearing no more than a G-string. It was a real strain to keep to the 'no touching' rule and, as she swayed in front of me, her curtain of lustrous black hair reached almost to the perfect peach of her backside.

I was erect from the outset and as she started to rub herself against me there was an imminent danger of severe embarrassment.

It was at that moment that something in the atmosphere changed. The girl continued to writhe to the heavy beat of the music but all conversation had been stilled. A few seconds later the reason became obvious.

The woman who had entered the club drew everyone's eyes and not without good reason. She stood tall in a pair of vertiginous heels but a first look was enough to confirm that she was perfectly proportioned.

Her pale evening dress clung where it touched and had me guessing whether or not she was wearing a bra. When I checked out her face her eyes caught mine and her smile suggested that she could read my thoughts.

She had her dark hair drawn back tightly into a ponytail and if she was wearing make-up it was minimal and expertly applied. At first sight I thought that her eyes were brown but now I saw that they were deepest blue. Her full lips parted in a smile to reveal perfect teeth suggesting high maintenance and I wondered what on earth she was doing in a place like this.

She ordered a drink in passing and took a seat on the sofa almost opposite me. As she sat she crossed her legs allowing her skirt to ride up high and I could see that she was wearing stockings.

The girl faltered in her routine for a second or two and she was clearly as intrigued as I was. Conscious of my wavering attention she turned to face me once more, offering up her modest breasts, and I noted that her nipples were now standing rigidly to attention.

It was a sight that would otherwise have held me spellbound but I could not help but glance beyond her to where the mystery woman sat with a look of mild amusement on her face. She sat with her chilled glass touched against her chest and, when she came to sip her drink, the sheer fabric of her dress was dampened.

If she was throwing out a challenge to the dancer there was clearly only one winner. The simple distension of her dark nipple as it reacted to the cold was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. It just carried on swelling as if it would break free of the flimsy encumbrance of her dress.

Not to be outdone the girl slid her fingers down inside her thong and it was no mere pretence. Within seconds I could smell her arousal and I wondered just how far she was permitted to go.

She turned away from me again and I could see the wetness of her fingers as they flexed against the resistance of her g string.

It took a moment to realize that, even though her tush was almost in my face, she was no longer performing for my benefit alone.

The woman relaxed more deeply into the sofa and, as she did so, she allowed her skirt to ride up even higher and her finger idly teased at the welt of her stocking. She was looking directly at the girl and she cocked her head almost imperceptibly in a gesture that might have been taken for an invitation.

I thought that I was about to be abandoned but she had already been paid and she kept up her end of the bargain. Her slow, sinuous, movements were still dictated by the rhythm of the music but her fingers were dancing to a much faster tempo.

She eased backwards, straddling my legs, and whether by design or otherwise, she fleetingly touched my fierce erection.

The urge to press against her was almost overwhelming but one of the security staff was now hovering more closely. I could see that he too was fascinated and he looked unsure about intervening. He turned away and spoke into his radio mike.

I could see tiny pin pricks of perspiration forming in the small of her back and her breath was coming more quickly. Somewhere, lost in the background, my friends, and others, were urging her on but she needed no encouragement.

Another stolen glimpse revealed the stranger with her mouth slightly opened and her top lip moistened by the tip of her tongue. Her expression, combined with her sense of total control, added up to one of the most erotic sights I had ever seen.

The girl looked to be losing her composure. She leant back against me, as much to retain her balance as to increase my arousal, and as she unrestrainedly worked her fingers inside her sex the back of her hand rubbed my tortured manhood.

I cast a frantic look at the security guy but he was earnestly engaged in an agitated conversation. As he looked towards me I could see the disbelief on his face. The girl stifled a scream as she surrendered to the inevitable whilst I tried, and failed, to stop the seemingly endless eruption that now ruined my pants.

To her credit the girl recovered quickly. There was no question of waiting for a tip as she ignored the cheering and rushed back towards the dressing room. I was left staring at the woman who cast a mocking glance down at my crotch and then discretely simulated a round of applause before she drained her drink and got up to leave.

Still shell-shocked I roused myself and dashed to the rest rooms. Taking stock, my trousers were beyond redemption and I quickly came to a decision. Our hotel was only five minutes away in a taxi and I could be there and back before my friends became overly concerned.

My decision made I headed for the rear exit of the club where the doorman nodded me through without a word. I found myself in a back street where three girls, plying for trade, made towards me.

Politely rebuffing them I made my way down the street to the main road where I was relieved to see a taxi waiting at the kerbside. I was just giving thanks when an elderly woman, coming from the opposite direction, reached the cab first.

Perhaps unfairly I cursed her but her exchange with the driver was both brief and heated. She walked away indignantly and I assumed that he was not for hire yet his yellow sign was illuminated.

With nothing to lose I strode up and gave the name of our hotel. He looked at me carefully and I assumed that he was checking to see if I was drunk. Thankfully, he did not take in the obvious source of embarrassment and he accepted the fare.

He turned the cab back into the street from which I had emerged and picked his way along a tortuous route including a darkened alley lined with commercial garbage bins. I suspected that I was being taken for a ride, in more ways than one, and I tapped him on the shoulder.

He smiled and explained in reasonable English that the main road was closed due to a traffic accident and that he was delivering me to the rear of the hotel. I did not recognize any landmarks in the darkness but, a moment or two later, the cab came to a halt in a narrow street comprising a number of service entrances.

As I paid the fare he vaguely indicated an ill-lit doorway just ahead before reversing and disappearing into the night.

I felt slightly uneasy and I tensed when the headlights of a stationary van suddenly blazed on. Two figures appeared from the darkness and my immediate instinct was to turn and run but as they moved towards me I saw that they were both female.

My next thought was that I was going to be propositioned again and, were it not for my need to get changed, I might have been tempted. The girls were both tall and clad from head to foot in a form fitting dark material that put me in mind of cinematic superheroes.

They moved lithely, with practised ease, and I wondered if, perhaps they were dancers. I thought that they might walk past me but I was clearly in their sights. As they moved closer one of them produced a pair of handcuffs.

There was no way that they were policewomen, even special units did not dress like that, so what was their purpose? As I tried to make sense of it the woman with the handcuffs spoke in accented English.

"We can make this easy or we can make it painful. It's up to you."

Something about her suggested that it was not an empty threat but then the penny dropped. This was clearly a set up.

I knew my friends were planning something; I just had not figured on anything quite so elaborate. They had obviously asked the cab driver to park up so that he would see me whichever way I left the club and he had clearly been at pains to make a positive identification.

After all their efforts I did not want to be a spoilsport and so, albeit reluctantly, I smiled and offered my hands.

The woman seemed surprised, and cast a glance at her companion, but she quickly secured my wrists and led me towards the van.

I was ushered into the rear where there were two bench seats. I took one and the women sat opposite after closing the doors.

The van set off and I tried, good-heartedly, to engage them in conversation but they remained stonily silent. I had to give them marks for staying in character and so I simply sat there mentally undressing them and wondering where it all might lead.

The journey took about a quarter of an hour, a lot longer than I anticipated, and judging by the diminished traffic noise we were now outside the city centre. I heard the sound of gravel under the tires and then the van came to a halt.

The women opened the doors and I jumped out after them. We seemed to be at the back of a large town house detached from its neighbours by some distance. They led the way to a set of railings set around the head of a stone staircase. I followed them down to what was, presumably, the basement, but I was surprised to be confronted by an expensive steel door more in keeping with a commercial premises.

Inside proved stranger still. I was expecting something utilitarian, perhaps a garage space, but I was led along a corridor with doors either side suggesting that the area extended beyond the boundaries of the building.

The women opened a door and invited me to lead the way. I was no sooner inside, and trying to make sense of it, when they closed the door behind me.

Before I could react I heard a key in the lock and then I saw that there was no door handle on the inside.

The room was, in fact, a cell. At first glance it looked like a budget hotel room with a single bed and a simple table and chair. It did not have a window but an illuminated panel built into the wall gave the illusion of daylight.

One corner of the room was screened by a steel sheet behind which there was a toilet, basin and shower unit.

My first thought was that this set-up must have cost my friends a small fortune. I could imagine the anguish of a genuine bridegroom, out of contact and needing to get to church the following day perhaps, but that did not apply to me.

Fortunately, I had recharged my phone before setting out for the evening but it only took a few seconds to establish that I had no signal.

I guessed that the form was to keep me locked up for a couple of hours and then, perhaps, a bit of fun with the girls but I assumed that if I kicked up a fuss they would let me go sooner.

In the event the girls returned less than ten minutes later. They came into the cell together, removed the handcuffs, and then stood away from me.

"Get undressed."

I looked at them and smiled.

"I'm game if you are..."

They looked puzzled but I had no qualms. I keep in shape and my summer tan was still to fade completely. I also knew that I was fortunately well endowed and, as I slowly took off my clothes, I could feel a renewed stirring.

The girls looked arousing in their tight fitting kit and the prospect of going a round with one, or perhaps both of them, was fuelling my libido. They led me out of the room and I hoped that we were finally headed somewhere more appropriate for what I firmly had in mind.

I was to be disappointed as we entered a much larger room which was no less stark than the cell we had just left. The girls seemed wary of me, but if they expected me to play the role of reluctant prisoner they were going to be disappointed.

I noticed the two CCTV cameras set in the corners of the room and I assumed that my friends were ensconced somewhere having a laugh at my expense. I smiled and waved towards one of the cameras resignedly and then the girls lowered a trapeze bar from the ceiling.

They secured my wrists to the ends of the bar with velcro fastened straps and then my arms were drawn upwards. I felt absurd but, even if my friends published photographs, as they undoubtedly would, the presence of the two girls was likely to incite envy rather than ridicule.

I was about to ask what came next when I was totally taken aback. Standing in the doorway, with the same enigmatic smile on her face, was the woman from the club.

Once the initial shock had passed I felt I had to give my friends credit. The set-up was more elaborate than I could have imagined but then I had to remember, with only the tiniest hint of guilt, that it was not our money that was funding it.

She walked slowly into the room her heels sounding sharply against the tiled floor.

"Hello again. Welcome to my domain."

Her English was perfect with only a hint of an accent but that only added to her mystique. I felt a powerful yearning for her but, in some strange way, her presence made me feel vulnerable.

She ran her fingers over my torso as if I were some kind of specimen and then spoke again.

"I would normally wait but I have been asked to conduct the preliminary session right away."

It seemed an odd thing to say but even as I pondered it one of her two assistants, as I now thought of them, slid open a full height wall cupboard to reveal a fetishist's fantasy of s&m paraphernalia.

I groaned in dismay now knowing that my friends intended to compound my humiliation. I had seen a couple of films in which bored porn actresses wielded toy whips whilst spouting nonsensical abuse and it did absolutely nothing for me.

Confirming my fears both assistants armed themselves with an implement that looked like a bootlace on a stick and then took up station behind me. There was a brief silence during which the lights above me noticeably brightened and there was a faint whirr as the two camera lens visibly extended.

Seemingly satisfied, the woman gave the slightest of nods and then the gates of hell were opened.

The sound was innocuous, like the chirrup of some exotic bird, but when the whip wrapped itself across my back it felt as if a hot wire had been set to my skin and there was a sharp sting as the tip flicked at my ribs.

I gave an involuntary yelp and tried to move from the direction of the attack but I only succeeded in opening myself to a second strike from the other side. Within seconds I had been struck a dozen times and I shouted loudly.

"Enough!"

I am no wimp but these girls knew their stuff. Each stroke was more painful than the last and I could feel a ladder of welts forming on my back.

The girls paused for a moment but the respite was momentary. The woman stared directly into my eyes and quietly spoke a single word.

"Harder..."

The strokes resumed, falling two by two, but this time the sound of the whips was more purposeful and the target was my buttocks and the backs of my legs. I tried to step away from them but they seemed to predict my evasions and each strike unfailingly found its target.

My friends might have thought that this was fun but, as far as I was concerned, it had gone too far and I bellowed with fury.

"Stop this right now!"

There was another hiatus but this time the woman looked up towards one of the cameras.

"Would you like us to stop?"

In response a single red light atop the unit flashed briefly. I took this a positive sign as the two assistants returned to the wall cupboard and carefully put away their whips. Had I known that this was to be the extent of my ordeal I might have borne it better; I hated losing face in front of this woman not least because I still cherished hopes of getting her between the sheets.

I stood waiting to be released trying to ignore the burning sensation that spread from my shoulders to the back of my knees but then a raw scream was torn from my throat.

I was driven forward by a powerful stroke that felt as if it had cleaved my backside in two. I turned in time to see the second blow coming but too late to do anything about it.

The assistants had armed themselves with leather straps at least eighteen inches long attached to stout wooden handles. These new torture devices looked decidedly heavy but the two girls hefted them with practised ease.

I continued to scream as they laid into me reigniting the blazing pain in my back and legs but each stroke fell with the weight of a well-timed punch.

I turned towards them spittle flying as I hurled expletives but even through the pain I was aware of their impassive expressions as they remained completely unmoved by my plight or my threats.

When they finally stopped I could see perspiration beading their brows, paying testament to their exertions, but I felt as if I had been pounded by a professional heavyweight.

One of them reached up to release my wrist, and I readied myself to vent my anger, but the woman forestalled her.

"Leave him. He can have a couple of hours to think about it."

I could not believe what I was hearing and I yelled at them as they left the room without another word. The lights went down and the door closed solidly behind them.

I looked up at the cameras but they looked dormant and I began to fear that my friends had headed off to another bar and left me to it. I told myself that they would be back shortly but time drifted by and the growing cramps in my arms and legs began to vie for my attention along with my scorched skin.