The Club



by John Savage

Some women are dissatisfied with their sex life.  They know there just has to be more excitement in the most intense emotional act a human can do.  Colleen was one of those – until she was invited to a special party.  Known only as ‘The Club’, it was a gathering of kinky people who introduced her to acts and experiences beyond anything she ever imagined possible.  And she proved to be a natural born submissive, reveling in and loving the tight rope bondage, the spankings, even being forced to enjoy lesbian acts she had never heard of.  But there was a serpent lurking amid the partygoers, someone who had plans for the cute blonde novice, sadistic and evil plans.

Published: Nov 2015         No. words: 52,400EX1t

As the young woman entered the large lounge, it was not hard to see from the manner in which her eyes darted around that she was afraid.  Yet the comfortable, expensive, large room would not seem to hold anything that would frighten her.  There were thick drapes framing the tall windows looking out over the city lights ablaze below, plush sofa and chairs inviting one to partake of their offered comfort, and a carpet of deepest blue that her bare feet sank into.  Tasteful paintings adorned two walls, mostly of pastoral county scenes by credible artists.  Cut crystal vases held fresh flowers, and a massive oak fireplace dominated the end wall, casting a cheerful, dancing golden glow over the room.

She saw no one where she had expected to find her teacher.

“Approach the fire,” came a voice from that direction.  The girl hesitantly made her way around a large sofa to stand beside the fireplace and face the person who had spoken to her.  To her surprise, it was not a man but a woman who lounged comfortably on the overly-thick padded leather; a woman perhaps a dozen years older than her own twenty and one.  For a few long moments the two appraised each other.  The younger had not expected a woman, and she was baffled by that but also relieved.  Certainly she had less to fear from a woman than she would have had from a strange man.

The woman sitting before her was of European ancestry, perhaps French, with dark eyes, long black hair, and delicate features that spoke of education and perhaps even nobility.  Of average height and slender build, she might have been a fashion model, or at least a women used to wearing very expensive eveningwear such as she was at that moment.  As she leaned forward to place the cocktail glass on the low table, she smiled just a little, as if pleased by what she saw.

What she beheld was a typical, youthful American woman of the middle class, good quality clothing but nothing exceptional, and medium cut blonde hair with just a hint of reddish overtones that was styled but not nearly as flattering as it could have been had it been done by an expert.  As with many Americans, it was hard to tell just where her ancestors might have sprang from.  Probably a mixture of races.  But whatever genes had gone into her creation, they had built a pretty woman, far from a classical beauty, but the friendly, girl-next-door, healthy and fresh look that only the USA seems to breed.  The figured hinted at by the curves under that pale blue dress was firm but with fair sized breasts and nice legs, although not overly sexual or muscular in an iron-pumping way.  With an experienced eye, the woman undressed her younger guest and was pleased by the prospect of what she would find when the clothing was removed.

“My name is Monique,” she said with hardly a trace of accent.  “You are Colleen.”

Colleen only nodded.  She had not been sure what to expect and was still a bit put off by the appearance of a woman instead of a man.

“I was told to come here,” she said in almost a whisper.  “For a…”  She faltered.

“For a lesson,” finished Monique for her.  “Yes, I know.”

“Are you to give me that lesson?” came the question hesitantly.

“Of course.”


For a few long moments neither spoke.  The fire made popping sounds in the background as it ate through its meal of wood.  Finally, it was the teacher who spoke.

“Take off your clothes.”

Colleen’s hand immediately went for the buttons on the front of her dress but halted at the first one.  It would seem that she did not want to remove her clothing before this strange woman.

“Your lesson can be pleasant or painful.  You choose,” she was told.  “Failure to obey can mean pain.”

She began unbuttoning the dress, slowly uncovering a smooth, tanned skin, narrow waist and a fair sized set of breasts, filling and hiding within a white bra.  She wiggled the dress down over her hips and stepped out of it.  Standing there in white panties and bra, she held up the dress and lifted one eyebrow in question.

“Just toss it in the corner.  You won’t be putting it back on for a while.”

The dress landed not far away.

“Now that bra.  Get rid of it.  And, sweetie, anytime in the future when you come here, don’t wear one.  Just gets in the way.  Besides,” she added in almost a purr as she watched the firm pair being freed of their cloth prison, “you don’t need one.”

Colleen tossed the bra over onto the dress and fought the urge to cover her bare breasts with her hands.  Although not a virgin, her sexual adventures had mostly consisted of struggling with hormone-driven males who pursued their single-minded purpose with a crude vigor.  A few she had let win the battle, mostly only to be disappointed at the results.  A lack of really satisfying sexual experiences was the main reason she had agreed to visit this unusual place.

Still afraid, but feeling the beginnings of a heat between her legs, Colleen forced her hands to be still and rest at her sides.  Had her attention not been so intensely fixed upon this woman’s dark eyes, she would have noticed that her own breathing was just a little heavier and a flush was tinting her face.  Always a shy one, she found that standing nearly naked and under the intense gaze of this woman was… well, she had to admit to herself that the word she was looking for was “exciting”.  A tiny shiver raced along her spine as she anticipated the next command.

But it did not come.  Colleen had been certain that this woman would order her to remove her panties, the last covering and defense of her modesty.  But, instead, she heard the woman say, “Come closer.  Closer.”  When she was within arm’s distance, the woman calling herself Monique rose from the sofa to stand almost toe to toe with her guest.  “You have a very nice body,” she said softly.  “Very nice.”

Colleen was about to say ‘thank you’, but held back.  There was a surprising dryness in her mouth and a reluctance for words to come to her lips.  This kind of confrontation was a new experience to her.

“Turn around.”

Colleen frowned.  She had expected this woman to reach out and touch her, expected to feel the woman’s hands upon her breasts with the fingers teasing her taut nipples.  Why should she want Colleen to turn around?

The answer to that question surprised Colleen so much that she almost jumped away.  She would have, but for the fact that Monique had taken both her hands in hers and pulled them behind the girl.  She was holding the wrists together with one hand when Colleen started to take a step forward.

“Stay still,” came a sharp whisper.

What happened next was even more frightening, and Colleen did try to step away.  She felt something strange touching her wrists and almost immediately realized that rope was being wrapped around them.  She was being tied up!

The surprisingly strong grip of Monique’s hands held her in place as the ropes wrapped around the wrists.

“Why are you tying me?” Colleen asked.  “I don’t like this.”  It was true statement, for she was truly feeling a healthy touch of fear.

The only reply was a continuation of the binding of her wrists, which was done quickly and expertly.  Monique had certainly done this before.  Rapidly she was tying the knots then releasing her hold on the wrists.

Colleen took that step forward to get away from Monique, but the task had been completed.  She tugged at her hands and found her wrists were welded together in a crossed position.  The ropes were tight but not painfully so.  Turning to Monique, she repeated, “Why did you tie me?”

“Because I want to,” came the simple reply.

“I don’t like this.  Please untie me.”

“No.  If you don’t like it, then untie yourself.”

Colleen frowned and began pulling harder in an attempt to get her hands out of the rope.  It did not take her long to find that would simply not happen. The ropes were too skillfully placed and tightened down enough to defeat her.  She began twisting her hands around, trying to reach the knots with her fingers.  She managed to touch the some of the ropes but found that there was nothing she could do beyond feeling them with the ends of her fingers.  Apparently the knots were cunningly placed where she could not reach them.

Colleen ceased her attempt to fight the ropes.  That minor effort – or something else – was making her breathing heavier.  She felt afraid yet not panicky scared.  Having never been tied before, she was finding it a strange experience, a mixture of excitement and fear.  This kind of helplessness was new to her.

“Please,” she pleaded.  “Take these ropes off.”  It came out more of a weak whine than an order.

“I will take them off when I feel like doing so,” came the reply.  Monique, smiling a wicked little smile, sat back down, crossed her legs and gazed upon her captive with amused eyes.

As she stood there, trying to come to grips with this unexpected development, Colleen became aware of what her hands being bound behind her back meant.  This woman – this strange woman she had never seen before – could do whatever she wanted to her!  She could touch Colleen’s breasts, even pull her panties off, and there was very little Colleen could do beyond begging not to be molested.

Looking into Monique’s eyes for some sign that this was all just a joke, she saw instead lust – pure, wanton lust.  This woman was devouring Colleen with her eyes, just as she had seen men do!  A shiver ran down her spine.

“Look,” she began hesitantly, “I’ve never been with a woman.  I mean, I was touched a couple times by girlfriends, but never anything, you know, real sex.  I’m not lesbian.  Mother told me that was not proper for two woman, or two men, to do that.”

“Your mother was wrong.  There is nothing wrong with love, no matter who it is between.”

Colleen was startled by the reply.  She took a step backwards.  “Please, don’t force me to do anything… like that.”

Monique smiled as she shook her head.  “How much you’ll miss in life feeling that way.  I pity you.”

Again, that was not what Colleen expected to hear.

“Look, maybe this was all a mistake.  Not what I expected at all.”

“What did you expect?”

“Well…  I…”

“You were told that you would be treated to a new sexual experience, right?  You had been told that Brian could help you find the sexual satisfaction that you were lacking, right?”

“Well…  But not this…”

“You agreed to try a new experience.  You said that you were willing to try something new in an effort to make sex better.  Is this not true?”

“Yes, but… Well, I expected that it would be a man who would… do it for me.  I mean, sex is between a man and a woman.”

“So you came here tonight expecting to have sex with a man.  Sounds rather slutty to me.”

“I am not a slut!”

“All woman are, deep down.  We want to be taken and our bodies used.  Hopefully, we’ll also enjoy it, but, nevertheless, be it gentle or rough, we want sex.  You can’t deny that.”

Colleen wanted to, but the words would not come.  That attitude was counter to all that she had been taught by a strict mother.  It was counter to what she believed in.  Yet… she knew, perhaps deep in her heart, that there was a truth in what this woman said.  She had hoped to find something more than life had thus far presented her in the way of sex.  That she could not deny.  She was tired of quickies, guys who never called again, and how selfish men could be.  But, most of all, she had wanted someone to satisfy the aching need inside her that was only partly sated by the sex she had known.  She had trouble describing that need in words, but it was there and very strong.  Sometimes, late at night, when sleep eluded her, fantasies of strong, yet gentle, men flashed through her mind.  As she touched herself, images of these men pushing her down on the bed and forcing her legs wide apart that they might impale her on magnificent rods of rigid flesh danced in her head.  In those dreams, she soared to heights of ecstasy she could only imagine.

But it was a hollow ecstasy, only one in her imagination.

“Come here,” Monique told her with a firm voice.

“I… I’m just not that kind.”

“That’s what you think.  Come here.  I have a few things to teach you.”

Colleen took a step forward.  She was aware of the warmth from the fireplace against the bare skin of her back, the softness of the carpet beneath her feet, and even the gentle caress of air against her bare breasts.  But mostly she was aware of Monique’s dark eyes that called to her.  She took a second step and was almost back within touching range again.

“Kneel down.”

It was a bit awkward with her hands held behind her, but she knelt and her knees sank into that carpet.  Her face was at the same level as Monique’s as the older woman leaned forward.  Gently she took Colleen’s head in her hands and bid her move closer.  Shuffling on her knees, Colleen obeyed until she was between Monique’s parted legs and almost touching the edge of the sofa.  Monique’s tight black dress had to be pulled up to allow her legs to spread.  That displayed a lot of flesh and inner thighs to Colleen’s eyes.  She found her gaze pulled to the dark place still only slightly hidden by the black material.  She could see enough yet to confirm it, but she knew that there would be no panties covering that most secret place.

Inside her, Colleen felt a turmoil of conflicting emotions, but all of them strong.  There was still the lingering fear, born from the feeling of helplessness that came from having the use of her hands denied her and being drawn into a situation she was unsure of.  Yet, overriding that was an attraction she did not understand yet felt forced to admit the existence of.  She wanted this woman to do something to her.  She was not sure what, but something somehow connected to the overpowering need within.

Monique leaned forward, pushed Colleen’s long hair aside, and kissed her.  It was a gentle kiss, and one that Colleen could not avoid because of the hands that held her head.  Yet, she did not try to pull back.  Instead, she felt herself returning the kiss, pressing her lips against Monique’s, and feeling a rush of emotions race through her.  With her eyes closed, the whole world reduced itself to the feel of those soft lips against hers and the awareness of her helplessness.

The kiss ended just as Colleen was about to shove her tongue into Monique’s mouth as an expression of the passion that lip contact was generating within her.  The withdrawal of those lips left her panting and aching with a strange desire she did not understand.

For a long time the two women simply looked at each other, sharing a longing yet in no rush to satisfy it.  Monique knew from past experience that it was better not to rush into such things.  Colleen did not know if she wanted to rush in or protest, and she was confused.  But she did know that the kiss had ignited a flame within.  If only her hands had not been tied, she might have reached out to embrace this woman who made her feel so strange.

“The lesson will continue,” Monique said, still smiling with an amused attitude Colleen found both interesting and a bit frightening.  That strange feeling of helplessness was her constant companion and it both scared her and excited her.

“Sit down.”

Colleen struggled to back away then obey.  When she was sitting on the carpet, her legs stretched out before her, Monique produced another length of rope from someplace.  Perhaps it had been hidden in the crease of the sofa, but whatever its source, it was now in Monique’s hands and Colleen could not take her eyes off it.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asked.


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