Perfect Mother, Perfect Slut

In the meantime, the scathing tirade continued unabated. "What kind of whorish excuse for a mother are you, anyway?" But at the dissing of her motherhood, Debbie stiffened and went cold. While the moment passed, Edward made a mental note of the sensitivity and reaction, for future reference.

Following the next break, after he'd swung the stool back into centre-stage, he fastened her to it once again. Then they got into the third and final phase of the evening – now, well into the wee hours – the final round of thrashing. Once secured, her breasts hanging down, glowing pink, Edward fitted padded clips to her puffy, red nipples. Chained together they pinched her throbbing buds with a firm squeeze, stimulating but not biting. The swinging chain amplifying the sensation. While he lashed her, he talked casually, without the earlier vehemence or vitriol, about subjecting her to the whims of colleagues and friends. After a bit he removed the clamps from her tits, and, moving to her derriere, clipped them onto her labia, before resuming his barrage against her backside and thighs.

He continued, sometimes silent, and sometimes giving a running commentary. He even talked of presenting her to club members as the subject of group sex, stating nonchalantly that she definitely had potential. The possibilities – probabilities? – of orgies and gangbangs, especially the notion of submissive gangbangs, really excited her and appealed to her. The passing reference, once again, to the club, rekindled, in some back corner of her awareness, her intrigue – at least for as much as she could think about it over the barrage of stimulation and sensation she was currently enduring.

Debbie couldn't even begin to explain herself to herself. She only knew – having really just realized or accepted it – that, very simply, she really got off on abuse. Whether carnal or abstract, tactile or emotional, physical or verbal, real or anticipated, the abuse unfailingly produced stupendous orgasms, and illuminated, ever-more, her previously unexposed kinks. Debbie gave her head a figurative shake. She hadn't realized – in her previous life – how very complicated she was.

She had allowed Edward to fuck her repeatedly with a seemingly endless variety of dildoes, vibrators, and rubber cocks, ever-intensifying the sensations with an equally varied array of paddles and straps and switches and whips. He used clamps and electric prods to keep her buzzing during the in-between times. Until now, at long last, she was totally enervated. If she'd had even the slightest bit of energy left, her head would have been spinning.

Finally released from her cuffs, her gag removed, she stayed draped over the stool, stunned, nearly catatonic, for what felt like an age, as her awareness and will trickled back into her being. But, eventually, she'd recovered enough to raise herself from the stool, and look over at Edward, sitting back in a chair, smiling smugly. She rubbed a hand across her lips, and returned his smile, sheepishly.

The first thing out of his mouth was a surprise to Debbie. He apologized about the gag, chuckling embarrassedly about how it sort of negated the safe-word. Debbie replied with a slight shrug, really, only giving him a sliver of her attention. Instead, while her equilibrium returned slowly, she bathed in a gentle denouement, and contemplated the echoes of the pain, now more of a glowing warmth, that flickered over her bare skin, shimmering like the Northern Lights.

It had gradually become clear to her, over the course of the evening's ordeal, that this had been some sort of test, some sort of screening procedure, and she wondered idly if she'd passed.

It was very late when she finally roused herself – well after seven in the morning. Exiting Edwards apartment, she saw that her car had been ticketed – but, fortunately, not yet towed. Luckily, she didn't work that day, and she wouldn't see the kids, who'd been with their dad, until after school.

Driving home, she reflected. "What have I gotten myself into? And why does it feel so very bad, yet, so very good?" The experience had been so completely novel, so far beyond anything she could have ever imagined herself experiencing, it left her feeling paradoxically enlightened and disturbed, producing, within her, a blinding rapture and a crushing confusion, at the same time.

After letting herself into the house, she caught herself in the mirror. "Hmmph!" she snorted. "Don't I just look 'ridden hard and put away wet'?" She rushed into the shower, before anyone could see her, then collapsed onto her bed. She couldn't understand. She didn't even try. She just wanted to keep her home life entirely separate from her... what? Her sins? Her erotic avocation? And, for the most part, so far, she had been able to do that – to completely shut out her adventures – those situations – while at home and at work. At school, her students garnered all of her attention and focus, and at home, especially when her children were there, she was one-hundred-percent mother, concentrating her entire focus on her family and their well-being. During those times, she barely even thought about her extra-curricular activities; hence, in her regular reality, she betrayed nothing of the tremendous conflict she was going through.

But, sometimes, when she was enroute somewhere, or rattling around, alone in the empty house, detailed recollections of her adventures would come to the fore.

However, on that particular morning, she had, successfully, once again, squeezed herself back into her Ms Mom persona. Was the fit becoming tighter, and harder to assume? She wasn't sure.

She didn't hear from Edward until the next week, when he called to invite her to, what he referred to as an initial assessment – an interview, of sorts, to see if she, Debbie, was suitable as a candidate for membership in the club he had mentioned. He assumed, it went without saying, that she was still interested.

Debbie was as nervous as a school girl going to prom, when she arrived at Edward's door. Edward welcomed her with a flourish, ushering her into the parlour, but not offering her a seat. There, he introduced her to Serena and Daniel, "Fellow Club members, and a sort of ad hoc admissions committee." They were elegant and sophisticated, and, as neither stood when they took her offered hand, a little intimidating. They stared at her appraisingly for a moment – she could almost feel their glares piercing her body – until Daniel gave Edward a slight nod.

"Assume the position," Edward commanded.

Still dressed in her loose, summery outfit, Debbie moved, demurely, to the middle of the carpet, spread her legs, threw back her shoulders, and, keeping her eyes straight ahead, laced her fingers behind her head.

"Let me begin," said Serena, casually rising off the couch. "The private members' club to which Edward has alluded, is called 'Club Maximus'. We, the members, own a secluded property, with a large, lodge-type building on it out in the valley. There members can enjoy a BDSM lifestyle freely and without judgement. We have small parties, large orgies, and everything in between. The only rules are that all submission is voluntary, and no one gets injured." As Serena paused, Daniel took up the description, lifting himself from the couch as he began.

"Guests are permitted by invitation only, and new memberships all arise from the rolls of repeat guests."

Daniel went on to explain that they were only there, "...for your edification – and assessment. There will be no sex this time." Debbie was a little disappointed, but curious to hear the details of what she might be getting into. While they spoke, despite the pronouncement about "no sex", the strangers continued to circle Debbie, now touching and groping, prodding and stroking. At one point, Serena stopped and reached under her skirt. Having found no panties, not that she'd expected to, she ran her finger up Debbie's moistening furrow a few times, pausing at each up-stroke to swirl about her clitoris. Debbie's breath caught in her throat as a needle of sensation shot up her spine, feeding a growing urgency that burbled in her core.

As Serena dropped her hand and moved on again, Daniel cruised around and snaked his hand up under Debbie's top, squeezing and pinching her tits – first one, then the other. As he played with them, they stood up proud like little pencil erasers. Debbie felt an electricity sparking and arcing between her nipples and flowing over her boobs like a charged field, leaking energy away through her body to gather within her tingling pussy. When Daniel dropped her blouse front, covering her buds again, the feel of the cloth compounded their stimulation, as they poked out in an inviting 'high-beam'.

And having finished all they seemed prepared to say about Club Maximus, they began asking questions and making comments. All the while, Edward sat on the divan, looking rather pleased with himself. In a lull, rising from his seated position to look Debbie in the eye, Edward announced, "For my part, I will hurt you and humiliate you, but, upon my word, I will not injure you."

Debbie stood there, still, save for the tremors of an impending climax. The casual manipulations of her appraisers had left her vibrating – so near to coming, yet so far. All seated once again, drinks in hand, the other three discussed submission – bondage versus non-bondage, corporeal punishment versus trash-talk – as if Debbie wasn't even present, although she understood the discussion was for her sake. They expounded on preferring the term 'sub' to 'slave', as their submissive members had all chosen that role without coercion, force, or undue influence. "Slave," Daniel went on, as if to clarify for his companions, "implies oppression and subjugation, and must be used advisedly. Certainly, the occasional use of the term sex-slave, within our circle, is understood to mean a voluntary submissive, only."

"Absolutely," Serena continued, sipping her drink. "True submission is submission of the mind. There is no real need for ropes and chains. They are just accoutrements."

In the reflective pause that followed, Debbie – feeling suddenly more confident – thought to herself, "Bring it on! I can take whatever you can dish out!" Corporeal discipline was, she realized, not only welcomed, it had become a desired component to her sexuality.

Although there had been no actual sex this session, the rest of the meeting had seriously piqued her curiosity. As the visitors stood to leave, Serena turned to Debbie, still standing 'in-position' in the middle of the room, and asked quietly, "Well, my dear, are you interested in pursuing this?"

Her nerves jangling with unfulfilled arousal, her chest out and fingers still laced, Debbie nodded, and squeaked out a simple, "Yes."

"Okay gentlemen," Serena said, turning back to the others, "it seems, as the club delegation, we agree. We'll propose a guest pass be processed for her." As Edward saw them out, Daniel turned to Debbie, still standing erect, and vibrating, and said, "You'll need, at least, a clear long-weekend for this, I should think."

Once they were alone again, Edward told her she could "stand down," and accompanied her to the door. "A lot to think about, eh?" he murmured, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and showing her out.

Her mind whirled, as she walked, through the evening, to her car. So completely engrossed in the descriptions of Club Maximus, and the idea of submissive slavery, she plopped into the drivers' seat and sat motionless, with her keys poised. An insistent tingling between her legs broke her reverie. She inserted her key, but rather than starting her engine, she dropped her right hand to her crotch, and pulled it up under her skirt, to brush her dripping snatch. Her left hand wiggled up, across her chest, beneath her top, to bother and tweak a puffy nipple. She didn't need much time before – sitting there, parked at the curb, under a streetlamp, with the odd person walking by, her dancing digits, whipping up her excitement – she brought herself off. Crashing into orgasmic ecstasy and relief, her body convulsing frighteningly, Debbie fought to keep her wailing release from attracting too much attention. Finally, forcing herself back to reality, she started the car quickly and headed home.

Over the next several days, Debbie's Ms Mom persona was subjected to a lot of fantasizing and masturbation. She needed to make a deliberate effort to fend off her preoccupation while attending to family and work life. Still, she managed.

Then Edward called. Their proposal had been accepted. "One day, in the not-too-distant-future, when it's convenient to your other life," he suggested, understanding Debbie's dilemma, "I can take you out as a guest, on a sort of probationary associate membership basis." Debbie's response was a single intake of breath. He continued, "As Daniel said, you should probably allow, at the very least, a clear weekend."

Debbie couldn't commit at such short notice, so they left it without setting a date. "I'll call you as soon as I can figure it out," she promised. For the next week her preoccupation was even more difficult to ignore. She spent a lot of her free time imagining what Club Maximus would really be like; wondering, as she thought of it, what it was like in the big leagues. Eager to learn – to experience, she let her imagination run wild. The visions of Edward introducing her to his fellow members, presenting her for their approval, were enthralling.

Serendipitously, within days, her ex, Doug, called her to basically announce his imminent plans to take the kids to Hawaii for Spring Break. They would be leaving the Wednesday before Easter weekend – the first weekend of the break – and be gone three weeks – Wednesday to Wednesday. Debbie had to be very careful to hide her delight. She called Edward to let him know about the turn of events. He was, of course, pleasantly surprised. So they agreed that he'd take her to Club Maximus, as a guest in ten days, for the four-day Easter long-weekend. It seemed, somehow, rather fitting to Debbie, that it was Easter.

Debbie spent the week as Ms Mom, packing and fussing and advising the kids, and pushing aside anticipated images of her own upcoming journey. More than once she caught herself smiling as the words of an old eighties song play across her mind: "Your daddy don't know, What your mama's gonna do tonight." And, as soon as the kids had left, she began the eager preparation for her own 'vacation'. She smiled and whistled, as her pussy clenched and began to drool. "It'll be perfect!" she sighed. "Just perfect!"

"Dress slutty," Edward had said. "And just bring something casual to wear home after your stay."

"Yeah," she thought, as she packed a small bag. "The perfect opportunity to experience the whole alternative lifestyle full-on!" Looking forward to, as she described it to herself, a controlled descent into depravity, she closed her bag, and looked at her watch. She still had two days.

"I just can't wait," she complained loudly to her bedroom walls, trembling like a child contemplating Christmas.