First Night At A BDSM Club (1)

[A lady explores the world of control in a BDSM club and she surrenders recklessly.]

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Plaything...

Just the thought of the word sends a rush of heat between my thighs, making me wet. It’s been months since I’ve allowed myself to be used like a plaything by strangers while being consumed by their hunger for me.

Lately, the urge to submit has been building inside me, relentless and gnawing at my core.

My husband and I have a very open marriage, but I've promised him I will not play with others without him being present. He is concerned for my safety, and I love him for it, but at the moment, he is away on a business trip. So, it's hard for me to ignore my arousal. 

So when I find out that I can satisfy my growing need in a safe, controlled environment, it sparks a forbidden thrill through me. I quickly make arrangements and do my best not to feel any guilt for going back on our agreement.

Two nights later, I stand outside the door to the BDSM club. There is no sign, only a discreet street number to the side, but when I punch in the code on the nearby keypad the door silently opens. I walk through, the door swinging shut behind me, and proceed down a darkened hall.

When I arrive at the reception desk, the club madam greets me with a smile and a warm welcome. She is the person in charge, ensuring that the rules are followed and that nothing happens without consent. She pulls out a sheet and we go over what I will not consent to: choking, any type of gag, heavy or excessive whipping. I don't really want to be blindfolded, but I decide not to specifically prohibit it.

We agree on a safe word, then I sign the paper and she points me to a locker where I stow my bag and phone. When I turn, she holds out a black studded collar and fastens it around my neck. It is a way to quickly identify all of the subs in the club.

"Have a good time," she says without apparent irony as she motions me into the club.

I give her a bemused smile, then start to walk down a mirrored hallway. I stop briefly to gaze at my reflection. I am wearing a short white dress that stops at mid thigh, plunges between my breasts, and is open at the back almost down to my ass. The spaghetti straps tied behind my neck make it easy to remove. My stilettos are also white.

My auburn hair cascades down past my shoulders in waves, and I shake it loose as I stare into my grey-green eyes. I like what I see. The last thing I look at is the collar around my neck, and I feel a slight tingling between my legs.

At the end of the hall I walk past a man in jeans and a tight tee shirt that shows off the bulging muscles in his arms. He is the enforcer, working with the madam to ensure things don't get out of control. I give him a smile as I enter the room, and he nods as his eyes flick over my body. He will be my protector for the next few hours.

I step into the room and take it all in. The space is large, the ceiling high, the ambience all red velvet, multiple mirrors, and lots of gold trim. A large St. Andrews Cross is prominent on the back wall, next to a wooden frame.

There is a poster bed, a padded leather table, and a narrow padded bench in the center of the room, all of them equipped with restraints. Chains and ropes are suspended from the ceiling throughout, and tables with all manner of BDSM equipment are scattered at the perimeter. Smaller rooms with curtains open off the sides of the room, and I catch a glimpse of a corseted woman being spanked by a leather-clad man in one of them. But what most catches my attention is the naked man chained to the sidewall on the left, directly opposite a naked woman similarly chained to the opposite wall. The enforcer follows my gaze and moves to my side.

"They're toys, meant to be fondled and teased by anyone," he explains. "Playthings."

There's that word again. I meet his gaze and smile, already feeling the moisture between my legs. I nod, then walk over to the spread-eagled man and stand in front of him. He is wearing only the black collar, his cock thick but not erect. He looks at me silently with a mixture of defiance and resignation. I stare at him, making him wait.

Then I move close and give him a kiss, my mouth open, my tongue searching for his. He kisses me back eagerly, and I reach down and fondle his cock. It grows hard in my hand almost instantly, and I keep stroking and kissing until he is fully erect. Then I step away, smiling broadly, and he closes his eyes and groans softly.

I turn and move across the room to the woman chained to the opposite wall. She is similarly spread-eagled, wearing only the black collar. She is petite, with fine features and straight black hair that falls to her small breasts. Her nipples are clamped, connected by a thin chain.

A dildo protrudes lewdly from her pussy. Her big dark eyes look at me with scarcely concealed desperation.

"Fuck me," she whispers.

Instead, I tug hard on the chain connecting the clamps, and she whimpers softly. I keep pulling, stretching her nipples as far as they will go. She moans and pulls against her restraints. Then I finger her slippery clit, and her breathing changes and her mouth opens. I continue to play with her for a few minutes, alternating between the chain and her clit.

I stare hard at her, but her eyes are closed, her body whiplashed between pain and pleasure. When I finally stop, she opens her eyes and silently begs. Meeting her gaze, I reach down and push the dildo all the way into her until she groans loudly, then I walk away.

I look around the room and notice more patrons. Two women in boots and bustiers are tying a man to overhead restraints and preparing to flog him. A beautiful dark-skinned couple has just walked in, both in leather, she wearing the collar. They assess the equipment, then move toward the bed.

The sounds of passionate sex emanate from behind the curtain of one of the private rooms. Two men lounge near the entrance, their backs to me, talking to the bouncer positioned there.

I have arranged to be dominated by three men at once, something I've never experienced before. I don't see them yet, so I start to move toward one of the sofas along the side of the room.

Then the two men at the entrance turn and stare, and I suddenly realize they are here for me. They walk towards me, their eyes taking in my heels and collar and skimpy dress.

A cold shiver runs through me as I lick my lower lips.