The Club

She hasn't been out to a club, hasn't played in public in any way, for a very long time. She fidgets in the car seat as they pull into the car park, pulling down the clingy faux leather dress to try to get it vaguely somewhere near her knees. It catches on the pull-up stockings a little and won't budge. She can feel it sliding over the flesh of her breasts where a light sheen of sweat has lubricated her. She's dressed to order, as she remembers having done so many times in the past, but isn't sure how she feels about following dress-code instructions again. There is something tired and worn about the whole kink scene. Even if adjusting her cleavage - just so - had made her smile and feel good about herself.

She feels like she's watching a once very much repeat-watch movie, but it just doesn't quite have the same appeal anymore. She smiles as she recalls the saying of a very experienced ex of hers, "Another fucking random." Watch, rewind, repeat. But the familiarity and knowledge of the necessary steps and hoops, the different scenes unfolding as they need to, fills her with no sense of anticipation or excitement. She feels tired, frankly, and wishes all of a sudden to be curled up at home in bed with her book.

The man next to her, in sharp contrast, can barely contain himself. This is all new to him, the kink, the dominance and submission, the prospect of attending an event and see others practice their kink, see others have sex even, is so out of his comfort zone and usual range of experiences that the excitement emanating from him is palpable. Fizzy and overflowing. Jade feels a curious mix of pleasure that she's doing this for him, to introduce him to this, and fatigue at the mismatch of his enthusiasm and her disinterest. This makes her feel guilty. She recalls lines from a recent film: "Please don't feel you need to do this out of obligation." "It's the only reason I ever do anything," responds the female character. Jade had burst into spontaneous laughter at the veracity of that female comment. She did a lot of things out of obligation nowadays. Tim turns to her and says, "Shall we?"

"Sure," she smiles at him. It wasn't really that hard to remember her first outings on the public scene. And she did like this bloke. The submissive in her did want to please him, make him happy. He was giving her something of what she wanted and needed. The companionship and his delight in her open sexuality made for good sex, which was improving too. Jade made a real effort to adjust her mental state, try to pretend this was all shiny and exciting and new. And scary and exhibitionist, the things in the early days which had made her wet in anticipation days before the actual event itself.

As they entered the building, the low thrum and pulsing boom of the music in the main space filtered through the entrance hall and up through her heels. To her surprise she felt a surge of adrenaline and interest. This felt welcoming and familiar. Tim was presenting their IDs and payment. He'd insisted that he would execute every aspect of the evening. His hand on the small of her back ushered her into the main space. He'd been given a key to a locker and wanted to deposit their things, then wander and take it all in.

It was strange to see him back in that kid-in-candy-store space he'd started in when they met six months ago. He'd largely grown into his own brand of dominant to her submissive, but this seemed to be taking her back to those early days of earnest attempts, where he wanted to forge ahead and explore, doing anything and everything to get it right and give her what he knew she wanted. She had had to tell him to slow down, that there was no need to rush, and that it simply didn't work to call her a slut from the get-go and tell her how much he wanted to dominate her. Her gut instinct about his intelligence and admissions of Ds fantasies, of doing nasty stuff to nice girls, had tipped her from a "no, don't think so, thanks" to a tentative, "Okay, we'll give it a go, but no promises".

Now, she found she mostly didn't need to guide him, or have those debrief sessions he had insisted on after every meet. He had always wanted to know what he was getting right, but was always more interested in what he was doing wrong. On one occasion, he'd lost his temper with her, "For fuck's sake, Jade, you aren't allowed to be coy about this and expect me to know what to do and say. I want to learn, but the corollary of that is that you have to want to teach me. For both our benefits. You know damn well I pick things up fast, that I'm doing this so we both get to fuck and be fucked as we want to. If I'm using the wrong words, at the wrong time, in the wrong way - fuck knows I know what to do physically to rock your world now - but you have to help me get the tone right, babe. I haven't had the permission to do this before. You're going to stop it being the best it can be if you don't give a little more here."

"Fine, sorry," she'd mumbled, and been stunned when he slapped her face. Not overly hard, but enough to make her head jerk to the side, to make her inhale sharply, make her glare at him. The funny thing was, he'd glared right back. Firm and implacable. Not trying to play a role now, just being him, in a dynamic with her, reciprocal and reflecting each other. Something had shifted that day. She'd felt it, and he'd played it out perfectly.

As she had stood naked in front of him, seething at the shock, he'd taken her hair in his left hand, never losing eye contact, and said, "Not fine, and I don't need an apology. Knees, now." He'd applied increasing pressure on her hair, pulling her down, and she'd sunk to her knees to be confronted by his full erection. He hadn't said a word further. Just waited. But when she'd leaned forward a little to attempt to take him in her mouth, he'd pulled back against her head. "Ask. Nicely." And for the first time ever in their interaction, she'd felt her cunt pulse and ooze liquid, from his words only, not what he was physically doing to her with his cock or hands. What followed was him at his most measured and calm. He just did what he wanted and guided her as he wanted her. He hadn't let her cum as he normally did, hadn't played with her clit, or given her oral, had even limited her cock-sucking. He'd just fucked her, fingered her, toyed with her, and only when he was buried to the hilt in her cunt, kneeling behind her on the floor, listening to her mewl "please" repeatedly, her hair tangled and mussed, her face pink and sweaty, his hands gripping her hips, scratching her back, pulling her hair, only then did he lean forward and ask her what she wanted.

"I want to cum, please, now, I want to cum," she'd managed, out of breath, tired and so on the edge, but he hadn't pushed her hard enough that she couldn't help herself. Every time she got close, he'd back off. It wouldn't have worked if they hadn't been fucking every other day. She'd not have been able to help herself if he hadn't been inside her for some time. She knew that, and she had just the presence of mind to wonder if he knew that too. He knew her body well now. "Please, what?" he asked her. She'd felt her cunt contract tightly around his cock at that.

"Please can I cum, Sir?" she managed.

"For whom?" he returned. Jade's cunt had constricted further, a mewl escaping her mouth as her cunt oozed liquid around him once again. He ground his cock into her and she could feel him pressing tightly against her cervix. He began to fuck her again. Deliberate deep strokes, increasing his tempo. "I asked you a question."

"Please can I cum, Sir, for you," Jade breathed out, grunting as he thrust painfully against her cervix. She could feel her cunt juice dripping down from her vulva to her mons. Could hear her cunt squelching around him. He increased his tempo further, and Jade knew there was no stopping her orgasm now. And the funny thing now was that a part of her brain registered that he knew that too, that he'd played this just how he wanted.

"You may cum, now, for me. Not your orgasm, my orgasm," He had said to her, and had thrust deeply repeatedly as he'd reached beneath her to squeeze her breasts hard; he'd bitten into her shoulder too. And her sharp squeal at the pain had morphed into a scream as she orgasmed hard onto him, her face sinking into the rug as the weight of his body pressed onto her. As her orgasm had begun to fade, he'd collapsed on top of her, grinding her body on the rough of the rug as he'd fucked her to his own orgasm. She'd relished his lack of mindfulness at her position, with his full weight pressing on her, pounding her hip bones onto the wooden floorboards beneath the thin rug.

"Oh my god," was all she'd managed to say as they both lay panting and sweating. And then, genuine and with no sense of going through motions, she'd murmured a quiet, "thank you," to him, reflexively lifting her hips to acknowledge his cock now gently wilting inside her. He'd said nothing, just kissed her shoulder, his heartbeat still pounding through his chest into her back. Yes, that had been a turning point.

And here they were, a month or so later, at a fetish event. Neither of them would know anybody, and she was used to be being guided, protected, under someone's much more experienced wing when she attended these things. She was beginning to feel that familiar rush now, realising that this was out of her comfort zone too. She didn't necessarily have a partner to fall back on here. And she remembered very well how irritating and difficult these outings could be. People observing you, potentially butting in, seeing others play out their scenes, scenes you didn't necessarily like, or want to feel a part of. But that's what you did when you entered the doors, you consented to all of that. Don't enter if you don't want your senses assaulted. Everyone did kink differently. And sometimes, others' scenes really did rankle. Or yours didn't go to plan. It was very different to private play. Jade wondered if her exhibitionist streak was still there. She wondered if she'd be able to enjoy this at all, given she felt a certain duty to watch out for Tim and talk him through things.

He bought them both drinks. She never used to drink alcohol at these things, but she'd gone for a vodka and coke tonight. She thought the alcohol might numb her a bit, soften the edges and prevent the potential slide into detachment which might occur, and would ruin this for him. Tim ordered a straight coke. She knew he'd not drink anything tonight. He refrained from alcohol whenever they did anything impact play. She smiled thinking about his stowed bag. The floggers they had ordered together, the cane, the crop, the tawse. He'd practised a lot on pillows and an ancient mannequin they'd found in a second hand shop before he'd wanted to strike her. She was grateful for that, but also secretly mildly irritated by his caution and reserve. Sometimes, as someone had said to her, you either pissed or got off the pot. She'd been patient though, knowing that he wanted to learn properly, get it right. For her. And she hadn't been very good at explaining that she didn't want him to be so considerate of her. Well, she did, but sometimes she just wanted him to do, to take, to not be so mindful of her pleasure. How could she expect him to know that she truly didn't care if the blows weren't perfect, if he wrapped the flogger and stung her belly or her tit. It would all come in time. They would learn together. And if he could just let go a little, they'd learn a little faster where each of them could go, and where they couldn't.

They wandered the main play space and peeked in some of the side rooms. Needle play, a lot of dildo play and spanking bench activity. A woman in a sling, legs spread wide and another woman between her thighs, her fist buried to the hilt in the supine woman's cunt. There was a man stood at the head of the sling, his fingers tweaking the woman's nipples. As they watched, he freed his cock from his black trousers and slapped the woman's face with it, then fed it into her mouth. She lifted her head as much as she was able, to guzzle him into herself. He stroked her hair, then held her head firmly, fucked her mouth. Jade's stomach and cunt spasmed. She felt a little stab of envy watching the crouching woman's tongue lapping at cunt and clit as she swivelled and thrust her wrist inside the woman. Jade could see a string of cunt juice stretching from the woman to the floor. She blinked as the restrained woman arched her back and mewled loudly, clearly orgasming, saliva stringing from her mouth to the engorged penis she'd released. Jade felt her own cunt spasm again in voyeuristic pleasure. She became aware that Tim wasn't watching the scene anymore. He was watching her.

"Finish your drink, Jade. I want to play." Jade felt surprise and a little wave of pleasure at this. He selected a St Andrew's Cross and asked her to wait there while he went and got his bag. Jade watched a woman caning a man's arse and thighs, his cock encased in a clear plastic case. She could see the little golden padlock at the top of it, and smiled.

She was wearing a thong tonight, though she hated the things. Tim liked them, liked the fact he could squeeze her arse cheeks and pull tight on the material to grind it into her cunt, could move it to the side and apply pressure to her as he slid his cock into her. She could feel her cunt lips swollen against the black skimpy fabric, could feel it sliding against her a little, more than damp as she leaked. She felt good. This felt good. This wasn't a disaster after all. It might not turn into one of her hottest club experiences, she thought, but it wasn't unsalvageable.

Tim returned with the bag, and she noticed him slipping his mobile back into his jeans pocket as he approached. He told her to strip to her thong, shoes off. There was memory enough in Jade that his command didn't faze her, didn't make her feel bashful or shy. She unzipped the dress, removed her bra. He put the soft wide leather cuffs on her, buckling them into place on her wrists and ankles. He didn't seem hesitant or reserved, didn't look in any way out of his depth. He then did something she wasn't expecting. He held up a blindfold, one of those foam padded ones which leave you in complete darkness, with no contact on your eyes. He looked the question at her as he almost offered it to her.

She looked at him, hesitating now at his confidence, and the awareness of him slipping comfortably into this space of public domination and submission. Part of her wanted to laugh in delight, but another part felt serious, that this might be another turning point and she didn't want to derail it by breaking the mood. She nodded slightly, and held the blindfold in place as he stepped behind her to adjust it. Jade felt herself slide a little into submissive space. Again not something she'd been expecting to happen this evening. Not being able to see now, she let Tim guide her to the cross, felt the snap of the clips as he attached her wrists, then her ankles to the widespread arms of the beams. She felt the press of the cool varnished wood against her chest and belly if she leaned forward.

Tim stroked her body, his hands gliding smoothly over her arms, thighs, back and stomach. He brushed against her arse with his lower body; she could feel the hard heat of his cock pressing against her, just for a moment, as he moved around her. That made her smile. Her senses felt the long ago familiar sharpening now that she'd lost vision. She could hear others' play sounds around the room. A cane thudding, a vibrator buzzing loud and soft as it thrust in and out of an orifice, sharp intakes of breath, laughter from the bar space, male and female tops talking to their submissive partners. She sighed happily and waited. And then she felt the familiar horse hair flogger stroking her, trailing over her skin, swishing against her back and arse. No pain from this toy, never, only ever a sharp scratching really if the ends caught her at the apex of a stroke. It was good for warm-ups.

Tim changed up, the suede floggers now she thought. Very thuddy, very heavy. Almost like being thumped, and a loud thwack when he got her with a sound blow. He built up quite slowly, stopping periodically to stroke her rapidly heating flesh. His hands felt cool against the heat of the flogged flesh. Jade surprised herself by wanting more, much more, and by asking him for it. "Of course you may have more, babe, I've barely started." He slapped her arse as he retreated to the toy bag. Braided leather now, thin strands, much sharper and more sting than thud. Tim had learned he needed to go easier with this toy; she didn't process sting as well as she did thud, didn't enjoy it as much, and he hadn't yet learned how far he could go within his comfort zone as a sadist to hurt her in the right way to ensure it was what she wanted, that she wasn't suffering more than he intended. He pushed as far as he thought he could, as he always did, and then reverted to the thuddier toys.

As he thudded the toys against her body, holding both of them in the one hand now she thought, she found herself fucking back towards the blows, reaching for a harder impact. She wasn't in subspace or anything close to it, but she was enjoying the sensation overload, the rhythm and pattern. Not dissimilar to him fucking her. A pattern and a dance almost. The blows stopped and she heard the wooden handles clack against each other as he set them down. She sighed and readjusted herself. Then felt him nuzzle her ear as his hands stroked her warmed and sensitised arse. "I have a surprise for you. Would you like it?"

Jade straightened a little and gave a low laugh, "A surprise? What kind of surprise? Thank you by the way, that was nice." And she turned her head to kiss him. He met her lips and kissed her lingeringly back, his hand moving to the back of her head. Then he caught her lower lip in his, and mumblingly said, "Well, if I told you that, it wouldn't be much of a surprise now, would it?" She snorted at him.

"Stay here, babe, don't move," he murmured.

"Ha fucking ha," she returned, rattling her arms in the latched leather cuffs. She swore she could hear him grinning.

She kept still, listening. She could hear him. Talking to someone. Another male voice. She could make out no words, but it was a back and forth for sure. Not a quick passing comment between two blokes in a fetish club. Jade felt a tiny erotic surge. One of her fetishes was objectification. To be disregarded, used, treated not as a whole person, but as a person attached to holes. She imagined them talking about her, and felt increasing arousal as she did so.

Tim returned. "I'm going to release the clips. We're going to the hanging beam across the room. I don't want you to take the blindfold off, and I'll bring our things. Just let me guide you." She knew the beam he meant, a heavy horizontal wooden beam suspended from the ceiling and used for rope suspensions or attaching widespread arms on tethers, for flogging or whipping or fire play, whatever one could do to a helpless and restrained form. She didn't complain, just massaged her wrists when they were released from the pull of the clips. They didn't often use cuffs for home play, and she had never shared with Tim the security blanket feeling they gave her. She leaned into that security, now that she was near enough naked and blind, standing in a room, waiting to be guided. She had no idea what others were doing round her, how many eyes were on her. Tim guided her gently across the space and after checking that she was okay, re-attached her cuffs to the beam above her head. She was now stood on the hard, cold floor of the club, polished or painted concrete, her arms widely spread and clipped to chains above her head. And there was nothing around her, close to her. She couldn't sense movement or heat. Didn't know where Tim was. No hint or presence sensed around her. She could hear the background noises as before, but nothing to give away where he had gone.