The Key Club

Trying to work out what exactly it is that is the fountainhead of one's leaning towards particular sexual desires is always hard. Maybe, for me, it was that time in early puberty when my elder sisters, in one of their endless attempts to put a brighter sibling in his place, tied me up so I was unable to free myself. Honestly, it's either that or, later, the visits to a London prostitute of a shy young student who, family necessity having forced attendance at single sex boarding schools from the age of seven, had no experience of girls.

Certainly I do recall that this particular lady not only seemed to take a shine to me, but also was instrumental in broadening my experience beyond the vanilla and opening my eyes to activities which, I confess, I at once found hugely exciting. Certain it is that she found fertile ground on which to sow the seeds of 'perversion' and from then on I was always looking for opportunities to explore further...opportunities especially involving bondage and submission.

But there were definite limits. Very soon I found that my leanings were not those of the conventional story-book sexual slave. The most obvious difference here is that I have never been the sort of masochist who responds to the whip or the cane. Frankly, if this is part of a potential dom's style then I'll run a mile.

I suspect that we are all selfish in our needs and I really don't like any sort of pain for pain's sake; it's a complete turn off, in fact. There are certain pains when accompanied directly by sexual stimulation which I do, however, find excruciatingly amazing. Genital bondage, teasing and, yes, torture, as long as it inflicts no lasting damage, can be mind-blowing.

Enough of an introduction! I must tell you of the events that finally brought me to the end of my personal sexual rainbow.

Successful in my career, I had just moved to a job in a new city, had found a flat, and had some time before I took up my new employment so decided to use it constructively in exploring my new surroundings. One day I found an alleyway at the end of which was a set of steps which led down to the path alongside a canal.

Here was a whole new, quieter underworld of life in the middle of a city's bustle, where wildflowers and wildlife thrived in surprising abundance. It was a balm to the soul simply to stroll along the towpath away from all the cares of the world and I somehow knew that it would be an important release to me though I had no idea that this would take the form it did. As I pursued the path I passed under a bridge that carried one of the main roads over the canal and, just on the other side was a small public toilet block, built of red brick, nestling in the shade of a large plane tree.

Now I admit that I had previously experienced some 'interesting' encounters in a few other such places whose cubicle walls had, at that time, often suffered suitable vandalism to allow for some inter-cubicle sexual activities. I had discovered that I actually got really turned on by other men's cocks - but not all in fact. Some I found to have the opposite effect - a real turn off. I had no interest in small cocks, or ones with tight, non-retractable foreskins, or any that were really rank. But a well-shaped cock of a good size was somehow irresistible, and I was ever the optimist. So it didn't take me a second to decide to explore this particular one, though I needed a pee anyway.

I found the gents completely empty and it didn't look as if it was really very much patronized as it wasn't at all grubby or smelly. However, when I opened the door to one of the two cubicles next to the urinals I found it had to be, in fact, quite busy in its own way as not only were the walls well covered in salacious graffiti but also there was a considerable hole in the partition between the two cubicles, and the hole had even been worn quite smooth. Needless to say it was in the usual place - at crotch height and slightly forward of the toilet seat. I couldn't resist entering and locking the door.

Dropping my trousers and pants I sat on the toilet and peed while taking in some of the crude writing on the walls around me. And most of it was indeed crude - in every way - with no sign of any literary skill; but then it was hardly the British Library was it! Anyway, I had hardly registered the fact that I was instinctively having a quiet fondle at a rising erection when I heard footsteps approaching outside and then on the tiled floor inside.

As the nextdoor cubicle was opened and the man entered I instinctively sat straighter and pushed my cock down between my thighs to appear innocent if he should happen to be a policeman - which, from his quite heavy tread, seemed a possibility to my wary mind - and should decide to glance through the hole. Meanwhile I leaned forward slightly to see if I could get any sort of a clue about my new neighbour. And what I glimpsed was at once interesting - a pair of black leather trousers.

My curiosity was at once piqued as my anxiety dissipated - cops just don't wear such things...at least not in public! As he settled I leant further gradually...and saw movement, slow and regular...and what was moving was a black hand with long, strong fingers. My own hand began to adopt the same slow rhythm and, as I caught my first glimpse of what those fingers were massaging, my erection seemed to leap to full tautness. My first thought was that those stories about black guys and the size of their pricks weren't apocryphal after all.

Next door was a magnificent monster of a prick, shiny, smooth brown with a pronounced mushroom head tilted up and a heavily veined shaft. It looked huge...and superb. I felt almost giddy with a wanton desire to get to know that thing in the most intimate way. A moment later I had my chance. He stood suddenly and I reared back in ridiculous embarrassment. But then that beautiful weapon was promptly thrust through the hole into my cubicle. It reared in an upward curve which simply demanded my attention and in the only way possible.

I didn't even hesitate or attempt to handle it. In a single moment I was on my knees and my tongue was out to lick at the glistening orifice at its tip while my eyes took in the tremendous close-up which demonstrated the sheer thickness of fleshy command. Then my lips were sliding over it, wider and wider till I took that wonderfully sculptured glans completely into my mouth, savouring the feel and taste of being so completely 'occupied'.

It was heaven to suck and I did my best to take as much more of him in but there was no way I could do it the justice it deserved. I hadn't the technique to relax my throat and take him right in however much I wanted to even though I had my doubts as to whether anyone could manage a cock of these proportions. And this thought also made me shudder as I had a fleeting inward glimpse of what it might be like to be fucked by this great truncheon of a cock.

At that time I had only once experienced any anal penetration and that was at the hands of the aforementioned lady of Maida Vale in London who had pushed a small butt plug into my arse and then sat on my face while I serviced her with my tongue. In itself this had been a great experience which left me with a persistent yearning for more of the same, but I was well aware that it was very different from being fucked by a real cock. And the thought of an invasion by this monster was at once terrifying and exciting - the stuff of those extreme erotic dreams that one knows are safer left as dreams as, deep down, you know you couldn't actually cope with the reality.

Then he pulled back. I got off my knees. Emboldened, I brought my own cock to the hole. Until I had come across this neighbouring weapon I had thought I had a big cock. And actually it is bigger than most, but just not as big as this present black beauty. However, I wanted to show him what I had, so I took my chance and slid it through the hole.

Those long, strong fingers encircled my rearing flesh and gripped it firmly, then slid beneath and through, and teased my balls through the hole as well. I groaned as his other hand took hold of my balls and pulled them taut, stretching and squeezing in a way that elicited a helpless groan of lust from me and made my cock twitch and jerk spasmodically. He pinched my hard flesh between his thumb and fingers making a ring beneath my glans that tightened fiercely and had me up on my toes and gasping as I 'suffered' what was almost an instantaneous dry orgasm.

Then he suddenly let go completely and I knew I should pull back, so I did. I sat down on the toilet seat, my breathing heavy. But he had clearly been busy even before receiving my cock, for hardly any time passed before a note came through the hole followed by a ballpoint indicating an expected reply. I read the note.

'Very nice. Likes? Dislikes? Be brief and honest.'

I was excited simply at the thought that he clearly considered taking this further, so I collected my thoughts properly before replying as succinctly as I could. I wrote, 'Submissive, into bondage especially and enforced oral. Some masochistic tendency but not into corporal punishment at all. Some experience but keen to learn more.' I pushed the note back through and waited, hopefully, my fingers mentally crossed but actually caressing my erection as I just couldn't help it. The note came back.

'Excellent. Does this desire to serve apply to a mistress as well as a master?'

My mind leapt. Did this mean what I thought it could mean? Or, pessimistically, could it be that he was only interested if I was a committed gay person? I was almost shaking as I wrote, 'More than happy to serve either or both. Admit most experience so far has been beneath mistress. Hope that's all right.' And I posted it back. Another pause and it came back with a reply.

'Better and better. If you are serious then I just want to see one more thing. Turn, bend and back your arse against the hole. Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck you...yet!'

It was a strange request, I knew, but I was too excited at the possible prospects to hesitate now. I allowed my pants to drop to my ankles and, bending double, I backed up till I was able to present my arsehole at the hole, with my buttocks pressed against the partition. Again I felt those fingers slide through beneath and draw my balls back through. I grunted as they were dragged upwards, fully stretched. Then suddenly I felt something really cold and solid touch my flesh and a real squeeze. A moment later I was being pushed gently but firmly back away from the hole.

When I moved I felt a sort of awkwardness as my balls were pushed through, and it didn't seem to be his fingers but something metallic that was doing the pushing. As I straightened I actually let go a cry of surprise and shock as my balls suddenly swung heavily back down between my thighs and were tugged downwards by something cold and heavy.

I looked down and was shocked to see that a shiny chrome steel cylinder was now locked around my scrotum above my balls forcing them fully stretched down from my cock itself so they were like two big purplish pink eggs swelling from beneath.'

As I turned I saw another note was being held at the hole. In shock, and trembling, I took it. 'As you see I trust your honesty. So, in 30 minutes, ring the bell at No. 69, ****** Rd. which is only a few minutes' walk above and to the right, and say you are looking for a key. We will see how well you can serve.'

Even as I read the note I heard the next cubicle's door open and the sound of his departing footsteps.

I have to admit that my first response was shock, and some sheer fright, and instinctively I panicked at what I had allowed myself to get into and what I was going to do as a result. I sat down on the seat again to collect my thoughts and, as I gradually calmed down I first took a closer look at the thing round my balls. There was indeed a tiny keyhole at the base. It was of stainless steel and beautifully made - clearly for the purpose.

That, in fact, served to help me think more positively of the situation for I reckoned nobody would want to lose what had to be an expensive item so it was clear he really did expect to see me again. Also, given that this was no cheap bit of tat, by association it was probable that neither was he. And then I recalled his 'Better and better' comment and the thought of both having a further opportunity to get to know that amazing cock of his and also to serve a mistress, even, if I was truly in luck, a black mistress...well that was quite a thought. And what was the alternative? A visit to a fire station and the appalling embarrassment of trying to explain how I'd managed to get myself in this situation so they could somehow cut me out - it just didn't bear thinking about.

I knew I actually had only one possible course of action - and there was no point weeping and wailing over my possible idiocy.

So I took a deep breath and pulled myself together, realizing that I had to find this address before the half-hour was up and not having a clue where I actually was in relation to the streets above. I pulled up my pants and trousers and buckled my belt, discovering that the ball-stretcher could be contained inside my pants though there was a noticeable bulge and I had to be a bit careful how I walked. I exited the toilet and discovered, with some relief, that there was actually a set of steps I hadn't previously noticed that led up behind the toilet to the end of the bridge's parapet.

Once up at street level I looked for names and, as suggested followed the road to the right. The third turning to the left , after about 200 yards, proved to be the road I wanted so I headed down this looking for the numbers. It was a street of small shops and the odd café interspersed with some ordinary housing; the odd numbers were on the right. Halfway down there was a shop numbered 67 which seem to sell various crystals and items connected with divination and the popular occult.

Squeezed between it and a house numbered 71 was a black-painted doorway with two box bushes in pots either side of it. A brass number declaimed it to be 69. I was a few minutes early so I spent these looking in the window of the shop without actually taking in anything at all as I was just too nervous. Finally I moved to the doorway and put my finger on the bell-push of the intercom to the right of the door and gave it a push.

The intercom crackled: 'Yes?'

I put my mouth near the thing and said, 'I've come for a key.'

'Come in!'

There was a buzzing noise as the door was unlocked and I pushed on it and entered. It closed behind me leaving me standing on a coir mat with a carpeted hallway extending ahead towards what looked rather like a small reception cubicle with a counter behind which was the figure of a girl looking expectantly in my direction.

I went forward. She was a very attractive dark-haired girl, I noticed at once, and wearing what looked very much like a shiny red latex blouse. She smiled as I approached. 'You look a little nervous,' she said. 'Don't worry, I was told you would be coming and you'll find out soon enough that you're in good company. It's my job to explain how things work from now on, okay?'

'Erm...yes. Fine..er..thanks,' was all I could manage but I did feel a good deal better as she seemed completely at ease and her attitude had an immediately reassuring effect on me.

She went on, 'Now the first thing to understand is that this club, the Key Club, exists as a venue where people can come to satisfy pleasurable desires in privacy and we hope this applies to all who come, including yourself. I should however point out that it was founded and is funded by those who lean toward a more dominant role in relationships and those who, like yourself, enter as submissives, do not exercise the same rights as the full members...but then your visits will not cost you a penny, so that's only fair, isn't it. All right so far?

'Yes, I think so.'

'Good. Now I gather you have been equipped with a device which needs a key to remove it.'

I nodded.

'Well there are quite a number of similar devices available or in use and also, throughout the club itself here, there are a great many more of many different forms and pleasurable purposes. Each is accessed with a key and each key has a unique number. You follow?'

'Yes.'

'So all you have to do is choose a three figure number each time you come or when the opportunity is given you at various times as you are here. If you choose the number which unlocks your personal device then it will be removed and you will be free to leave and not return unless you so desire. The list of numbers and their applications are held here on the computer which will also retain a record of any numbers you choose. When you choose a number you also thereby select a device. It may be the device which secures you, or it may be some other device and, if so, that is the number of the device or procedure which you will then experience.

'I have been informed that there are certain experiences which you find unpleasant. If you choose a number that selects something along those lines then the number will be rejected and you will have to choose again. So, you see, as I told you, the club has no intention of inflicting unpleasantness. At the same time, we do hope to extend the experience of all those invited, like yourself, to join us.

'I should also point out that we believe in cleanliness and also in health and safety, and, for that reason we ask you to submit a small blood sample to be tested for any transmittable diseases - all our members and guests are regularly tested as a matter of course - and the very first thing you will do on arrival will be to undergo a thorough cleansing. We can thus guarantee that anyone with whom you come into intimate contact will be entirely healthy. For this first day, until we have a positive result of your blood test, your contact will be limited for the safety of our members here. Is that all understood and okay with you?'

'Er...yes...that's fine. I admit I'm...well...I'm rather impressed actually to be honest. It's not what I expected'

'Better, I hope'

'Oh yes. Much better.'

'Good, then all that remains now is for you to choose your first number and then I'll pass you on to the staff who will see to the next stage, after which you will, all being well, either be free to go or go on to the procedure you have selected. Okay?'

'Yes. And actually I admit I rather hope I don't choose my key number right away.'

She laughed, 'Well, even if you do you'll always be free to choose again if that occurs. We will only expect someone to leave if their service is not satisfactory.'

''Ah! Well, I guess that's only fair. So how do I go about choosing this number?'

'Simple!' She turned the keyboard towards me. 'There you go! Just type in three digits of your choice.'

I hesitated a moment, aware that this was a real watershed. Then I typed 246 which happened to be my school number years before.

'Press Enter,' she said. And I did so. She looked at the screen. 'Well, you get your wish. That's not your key number. So now, if you'd please go through that door over there,' and she pointed over my right shoulder, 'the staff will look after you from now on. Be good! I hope you enjoy your visit.'

'Don't I get to know what I'm in for, then?'

'Oh no! That would spoil the fun, wouldn't it!'

So with that there was nothing left for me to do but follow her instructions. I turned, crossed the hallway, and opening the door there, I went on through. The door gave on to what was little more than a short but broad passage with another door opposite. On my left was a bench seat jutting from the wall and on it was a wooden box with rope carrying handles either end, the number 23 stenciled on the lid and a key in its lock which was in the centre of a rather neat brass depicting ...a key. Rather impressive, I thought, and again this attention to detail gave me confidence in the whole situation.