The Renovation of Maria

About half of the alcoves contain nothing but a large, comfortable couch. The other half all have some kind of apparatus—massage tables, stocks, whipping benches, overhead manacles, sex slings, etc. I'm an engineering kind of guy and love inventing sexually stimulating contraptions. My latest is a padded horse mounted on a dolly that can be pushed out of the alcove and around the room. The victim (male or female, but usually female) is bound to the horse, bent over on their stomach with their ass in the air. The Dom can wheel the unfortunate from alcove to alcove, or up the bar, unveiling the target for others to feel and spank.

Another special touch that I am proud of is the availability of numerous silk scarves and drapes. Victims seems to lose their clothes quickly, and it's much sexier to see them partially covered, temporarily of course.

Everything is in order. I open the bar, put out the ice buckets, and adjust the lighting. A flick of a switch and suggestive Asian music purrs in the background. We are ready for the first guests of the evening.

Maria

My friends are already seated in a booth when I join them.

"Maria you look amazing," Monica says. "Since working at that construction company you look so much more beautiful and self-confident."

"Oh my god, I love the job. The work itself is easy I could do it with my eyes closed. In a week I picked up all the construction lingo. And Mr. Morgan is a dream. He is completely bald, and you know how I love bald men.

Lucy laughs. "Maria you and bald heads. Give me a curly head of hair anytime."

"I don't know," snickers Monica. "All that sensitive skin can be a great playing field. Once there was this guy..."

Lucy throws up her hands in mock displeasure. "Oh spare us, Monica. Half of your stories are cooked up in your imagination, and the other half are dullsville. I want to hear more about Sir Morgan."

My ears perk up. "Why do you call him SIR Morgan?"

"Oh my dear, there are rumors. Haven't you heard? They say he has a very intimidating personality."

"Well, he hasn't been that way with me."

"That's probably because he respects your abilities and doesn't want to lose you. His company is growing by leaps and bounds, and he needs good people. But time will tell. Sooner or later he will test you."

I take in what Lucy says. She had had some experiences with dominating men. Secretly I have envied her. "I'll try to be prepared," I laugh.

"Tell us more about what he is like," Monica prompts. "Does he have tattoos?"

"Well, obviously I haven't seen his whole body, but there are beautiful, subtle pictures on his forearms. They look like they have been there for a long time."

Lucy sighs. "Sounds heavenly. Is he showing any interest in you?"

"Well... he has looked me over a few times... when he thought I wouldn't notice."

"We always notice," says Monica. "You should give him a look back. You know... just to show him you're not a prude."

"I don't want to do anything to jeopardize this job. We have been so busy. Just this afternoon I took a call from an architect who wants to include us in his bid for new office building. He had to have documents from us today... OH MY GOD..."

"What?"

"I forgot to fax the documents! I them all ready, but left them on the table by the machine. Normally the secretary would do it, but she left early. Oh shit, I am in big trouble!"

"Why don't you just go back and do it? Do you have a key?"

"Yes, I have a key. I usually open the place in the morning. But I'm not supposed to ever go back after five o'clock on Fridays."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. But Mr. Morgan was very emphatic."

Lucy grabbed my wrist. "You have to do it. You don't want to be responsible for Morgan Construction being left out of this job. He probably just didn't want to have to pay you overtime."

"You're right. I have to take the bull by the horns and fix this. You guys go ahead with your evening. It will take me a couple of hours to go there and back."

A big grin appeared on Lucy's face. "Interesting choice of words: 'taking the bull by the horns'. Could be just what Mr. Morgan needs."

"You're terrible," I say as I head for the door.

John

The first member to arrive is a single gal named Gretchen. She is a regular on Friday nights. In her thirties, a bit on the heavy side, slight German accent. I personally broke her in six months ago. Now she has a couple of male friends whom she can count on being here early, part of the group who can spend only an hour indulging their passions before going home to mama, or whomever.

Like many members, she comes wearing a sexy costume under a raincoat. On a busy night there are so many raincoats hanging on the wall in the reception area that you would think we were a hurricane shelter. She shrugs off the covering and approaches me.

"Good evening, Gretchen," I say as I look her up and down. "You look very fetching tonight. Those big tits of yours seem about to explode out of that bustier."

"I'm glad you approve, Sir John. A girl has to put her best foot forward."

Betty snickers. "Some feet."

I can see it coming. Betty and Gretchen are as competitive as two hungry alley cats. Each thinks they have the best set and want confirmation from me, since I have worked them both over rather thoroughly.

"Now girls, be nice, or I'll have to discipline you both."

"Promises, promises," says Gretchen. "You haven't paid any attention to me since that first month. Is anyone else here yet?"

"You are the first dear," Betty responds. "But I hear some cars pulling up. You will soon be taken to the dungeon."

"Oh goodie. Why don't you come with me? Then some lucky guy could have us both and vote on which are the biggest, shapeliest, firmest, perkiest, and most fun."

Betty smiles. "I like you Gretchen. You are one brazen bitch. We should do a scene together sometime, but I have to stay in reception until Lady Diva arrives."

Lady Diva is my paid greeter and gate keeper. She always dresses like a French maid who can't afford underwear, and looks terrific. If any members or special guests have reservations about what they were about to experience, her appearance and its promises sweep them over the hurdle.

I take Gretchen by the hand. "Come on slut-slave. You are going to be tied to the auction post, the first thing on the menu for the early birds."

"Yum!"

Maria

It's almost eight o'clock when I pull up in front of the office. I see car lights in the lower parking area at the rear of the building, near the entrance to Acme Imports. Now what could they be doing this late on a Friday?

I go into the office, and sure enough, there are the documents on the table beside the FAX. How stupid of me. Quickly I turn on the machine, punch in the number, and feed the papers through the slot. In two minutes the job is done.

What is that noise from below? It sounds like laughter and people talking. There is also a low throbbing, like a rhythmic base drum. Obviously Acme is having a party. I'm curious. As the office manager of Morgan Construction, owner of the building, I should meet the people who rent space from us. I decide to go down there.

The easiest way is to drive around the building, so I take my car and swing into the lower lot. Wow, there are lots of people here, must be twenty cars. I park and walk up to the door. It's unlocked, and I go in.

Surprise! In front of me is a lovely creature in a very short skirt and black leather patent heels. Her boobs are puffed up and overflowing a scooped neck top. Coal black hair is piled on the top of her head, and long gold ear rings shimmer in the halogen track lighting.

"Well hello there," she says pleasantly. "Who are you? I don't believe I've seen you before."

"I... I'm the office manager for Morgan Construction. I work upstairs. I thought I should meet the people who rent this space from us."

She looks quizzical. "You weren't working tonight, were you?"

"No, no. I forgot something and had to come back."

"Naughty girl, John assures us that his employees will not interfere with our... shall we say, business."

Now I am suspicious. Her costume and her calling me 'naughty' are highly suggestive, and I feel my pulse racing. I adopt my office manager tone. "And just what is your business? I'm sure my boss will want to know what goes on down here."

She laughed. "I can see you are going to have to be brought into our little circle. My name is Lady Diva. What is yours?"

"Maria."

"A pretty name for a pretty lady. Well, Maria, John is here tonight, and he will have to explain it all to you. But he's busy right now, so I'll have someone give you a tour."

She opens the inner door and calls out. "Slave-do, come here!"

What kind of name is 'Slave-do'? What is going on here?

Slave-do appears instantly. She is a curvy, slightly overweight middle aged woman in a loose cotton shift. A rope belt cinches her waist, and high heeled sandals are bound to her ankles. Long honey-colored hair frames her pretty face. She looks like an expensive slave from ancient Greece or Rome.

"Yes mistress. How may I serve you?"

"Lots of ways," titters Lady Diva. "But for now I want you to give Maria here a tour. Don't tell her anything about the Club, just let her look. I will tell Master John that she's here, and I'm sure he will find you."

"Yes mistress. Is she to be allowed to participate in any activities?"

"Gracious no. That will be up to Master John. And don't let anyone touch her."

"I understand. "Please come with me, Maria ..."

Need-less-to-say, I am flabbergasted. Clearly this is no ordinary company having an ordinary office party. And what is John doing here? And why is he being called Master John? In the back of my mind I think I know the answer. I've read plenty of stories about BDSM clubs. But I don't let myself go there. It would be too weird, and much too exciting. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

John

It took me a while to get Gretchen like I wanted her. Betty helped me.

The auction post is on a raised platform in a corner of the room near the entrance. We auction off a delicious piece every Saturday at midnight, with the proceeds going to charity. At other times a sub can be left tied to the post to be used by felt up and tormented by men and women alike.

In Gretchen's case we wanted to bind her to the post in a way that would emphasize and make vulnerable her big tits. Betty, bless her kinky heart, came up with idea of using duct tape to secure her long hair to the post above her head, so that she was forced to stand up perfectly straight no matter what. With her hands tied behind the post she had almost no freedom of movement. To make sure we got our point across (or should I say her 'points' across), we ran a leather strap around her body and the post just under her breasts, and left a little "tit-whip" hanging on the rope.

Gretchen protests in a half-hearted way, and I pinch a nipple as I step off the platform. "Come on Betty, I want to show you something."

"Can I whip her just a little?"

"No. She needs to be fresh for her male friends."

"Awww..."

I twist Betty's arm behind her and march her to my special alcove on the other side of the room. This is the place where I try out my new devices, I have some recently created custom wooden stocks.

"Take off your top and bra. Leave your skirt on."

Her eyes grow big, but she does as she's told and does not protest as I maneuver her into position and close the gates. The L-shaped mechanism locks her neck and hands in holes in the horizontal board at the top, while her bare tits are poked through the cutouts in the board in the front. The whole contraption is suspended from the ceiling by chains that I can adjust to the height of the victim. Betty's feet are on the floor, but her legs are spread, held open by a wooden bar attached to her ankles. Her tight skirt is forced up her legs almost to her panties.

The magnificent 38Cs stick out proud and firm. I am pleased with the effect. She is totally helpless and vulnerable.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asks. "You've never put me in this thing before."

She knows I have been displeased with her attitude lately, and she is fearful. But she is also excited. I can see it in her eyes.

"You've been a bad girl Betty, sulking around the office because I have been spending so much time with Maria. At the same time you've been wagging these saucy tits in my face, trying to distract me. A good tit whipping is in order, don't you agree?"

"No... please... not too hard. I'm sorry I haven't been more welcoming of Maria. It's just that..."

"Just what, my little office slut?"

I run my hands over her taut tits. The holes that grip her are lined with plastic sleeves adjusted to compress the protruding flesh and bring all the nerves to the surface. Betty's nipples are erect, half an inch long, hard as stone. Her hips are twisting slowly from side to side. She is so ready for this.

And so am I. I need to get my mind off of thoughts of bringing Maria down here.

"I asked you a question bitch. You are my office slut, aren't you Betty?"

"Yes sir. You know I am. It's just that you used to play with me almost every day. Now you are so busy with that... that... that efficiency machine."

I have to laugh at that. "She is efficient, that's true. But she doesn't meet all my needs. Like having access to big firm tits like this..."

Using just the tips of my fingers I begin slapping her boobs, making them jiggle and bounce and eliciting gasps. She tries to stamp her feet, and the bar thumbs against the floor. My Betty is very responsive to having her breasts stimulated. Soon I will cut away her panties and find a sopping wet pussy.

Maria

OH MY GOD. I don't believe this! An honest to god, full-fledged, super-raunchy BDSM club in the basement of the building where I work! I see gorgeous men of all ages, most of them in tight leather pants and T shirts. The women are of all ages too, sexily dressed to show off their best features, be it legs, tits, ass, or all three. Many have their hands tied behind them, and some are wearing collars with light chains attached. Some of the men are similarly restrained and collared.

"This is the main room," says Slave-do. "Members socialize and hook up here. You can get various kinds of drinks and snacks at the bar, but no alcohol. This doesn't stop some people from bringing their own, but drunkenness is highly frowned upon. One infraction and you're out."

"Probably a good rule in a place like this," I say quietly. I am still taking it all in.

Slave-do continues her spiel. "That platform and post over there are for the slave auctions. I have been on there many times; hence my nickname, 'Slave-do'. When someone pays good money for me, I have to DO whatever they say."

"Do you like it?" I ask.

She smiles. "What do you think?"

"Are you ever hurt?"

"It's a different kind of pain," says Slave-do, as she sizes me up. "Much more pleasure than hurt. Have never experienced it?"

"No."

"Then you've never been fully alive as a woman."

A knot clenches in my abdomen. "But surely it can get out of hand."

"We all share the same safe-word, so there's no excuse for that."

I think I'd better know that word. "What is it?"

"Not for me to tell you. If you are accepted for membership you'll be told. But for guests like yourself we have a special, different word every night. Tonight's guest work is 'red-light'. If you say that, you will be immediately escorted out of here to your car."

"Good to know."

She points toward the back of the room. "See the alcoves all along the perimeter? They are numbered, and members can use anyone they want, except for number 20. That one is reserved for Master John."

"Why is he so special?"

She looks at me like I am from some other planet. "He owns the Club; I thought you knew."

My knees go weak. I thought he just rented the place and maybe was an occasional visitor. But it's his club! All this time I've been working with him not knowing! Sure I was aware of his dominating personality, but this? I remember all my imaginings of him taking me, using me, spanking me, whipping me. If he finds out I am here..."

"We can walk along outside of the alcoves and observe the activities. It's still early, but I see that a few play dates are in process."

Play dates? Oh brother.

We pass a few empty booths, and then WHAM. A naked woman about my age is tied in a sex sling. Her arms are bound to her wide open thighs. A man is standing between her legs, fucking her in long, steady strokes. He has her hair wrapped in his fingers and her head bent back. His rhythm is such that she swings in sync with his thrusts, meeting him on the intake and taking him deep. She is moaning and groaning to beat the band. Another man is waiting, his hand working his crotch.

"My goodness," I manage. "Is that consensual?"

Slave-do laughs. "You see the expression on her face? She's loving it."

I wonder if I would too. The feeling of weightlessness in the sling would be something, not to mention the total control and access the man would have to your body. I shudder.

We move on to stand outside an alcove where a woman is getting a massage by a man who looks like Mr. Clean on the old cleanser bottle. She is on her stomach on the table, naked with a pillow under her hips, and his big hands are kneading her oil-covered ass. Little whimpering noises come from her throat. He smiles at us as he works one hand between her thighs and onto her pussy.

"YES," she gasps. "There... there..."

"Oh my," I mumble. My overloaded circuits are strumming. I could almost feel his fingers on my pussy.

"Yes," says Slave-do. "Bruce is famous for his massages. They can go on for an hour, and you cum every few minutes."

"This is all too much, too fast," I tell my tour guide. "I would like to go sit at the bar and wait to see John."

"You won't have to wait long. Here he comes."

I follow her gaze, and there is John walking toward me. Betty is one step in front of him, her hands in front of her in wrist cuffs. His hand is on her ass.

John

I don't believe it! Maria is really here! There's no turning back now. She either is the submissive I want her to be, or she will be running away like a frightened deer, and I will have lost a great assistant. Well here goes nothing. She is about to experience the real me.

She stops and stares at me. "John..."

I ease Betty off to the side and close the gap. One arm goes around her hips and pulls her into me. With my other hand I seize her hair and hold her face for my kiss. Her lips are moist, hot, and responsive. She does not resist as my tongue thrusts into her mouth. It goes on and on...

When I finally let up she is breathing deeply. Slave-do has taken Betty away. I owe her for that. "I wondered how long before you discovered my hobby," I whisper. "You seem to be accepting."

She remains pliant in my arms. "It is a bit of a shock. I know I'm not supposed to be here, but I forgot something in the office, and all the cars..."

"It was bound to happen at some point. Are you scandalized? I don't want to lose the best administrative assistant I've ever had."

Her smile reassures me. "The way I responded to your kiss must tell you something."

"Yes, I've sensed we might be kindred spirits. I've wanted to bring you here, to test you."

"Here I am."

"You realize that if you stay you will be forced to submit to me."

"Yes sir."

That does it. Her responses and the final 'yes sir' confirms my speculations and my hopes. I am thrilled and excited. I resolve to go slowly, taking her step by step into my world, showing her the pleasures and exploring her limits.