“There it is!” he had proclaimed.
And there it had been.
Two floors up, in what Kris would have taken to be a warehouse of some sort, a small, green and red neon sign flashed on and off periodically. The pallid light it cast barely reached the base of the window, never mind the streets below.
The sign flashed, “The Inferno.”
Talk about discreet.
Seems Lee had been right.
This place was exclusive, after all.
There was only one security guard on the door, but when you looked like this guy, one was enough.
The fucker stood at least six and a half feet tall, was dressed all in black with a beard that reached to his man-tits and a head as smooth as chrome.
He also had the demeanor of a man who’d like to twist your head off like a bottle-top, tip your body high and drink your sweet juices from your neck stump.
Kris considered turning around, just seeing the guy, but Lee was already up in the big fucker’s face, fearless. He was grinning like a hyena as he reached up with the tickets and waved them in the gorilla’s face.
“We’re guests!” Lee proclaimed. “Special invite.”
The mountain man merely glared at Lee and grunted. With a slight nod of his head, he grabbed the two tickets from Lee’s outstretched hand and nodded over his shoulder.
‘Go on up.’ The nod said.
Kris tried to smile at the big fucker as they passed him, but managed only a grimace. He felt like a child in the presence of a parent.
Without another word, they passed the guard and with Lee in the lead, they made for the large windowless metal door. Lee turned the handle and swung the door wide, revealing nothing more than a steep stairwell that climbed up into an unlit area above. The darkness up there was a little off-putting, but Lee charged ahead, excitable as always.
Kris wondered just how much speed his wayward buddy had snorted this evening, and found he didn’t really want to know.
Before he knew his feet were moving, he was following his friend up the dark stairs, one step at a time. The only light afforded them came from the streets outside, and from one small flickering bulb that hung from the ceiling just above the spot where he stood.
Above them, there was only darkness. No music. No light. No signs of life.
He was getting a bad feeling about this place.
The feeling was compounded when, behind and below them, the metal door slammed shut.
Kris could see, from his position halfway up the staircase, that there was no handle on this side of the door.
No way out.
Calm the fuck down, he thought. Keep your shit together. It’s just a club. Maintain your cool.
Easier said than done.
Again, he thought about turning around, but Lee was already hopping up the stairs, merging with the shadows up there more and more with each step.
Despite his better judgment, as always, Kris followed.
The climb was short, and within moments they were both stood by yet another metal door. This one had no handle on their side, at least none that they could see in the almost complete shadow.
Together, they felt for the handle, like two gormless fucks trying to read Braille.
Nothing.
Well, shit.
“Fuck, Lee….maybe we’d better…”
Kris never got to finish his sentence, as Lee hammered the door with his fist.
The door opened almost immediately.
And Kris got the fright of his life.
The barrage of light and sound nearly knocked Kris off his feet. Where there was darkness only moments before, now there was a huge swell of bass drums; beats both tribal and hypnotic. Red and green lights swirled amidst the smoke that poured from the doorway, and he immediately caught the strong whiff of marijuana.
Apparently this place really was off the books.
Lee turned to him, grinning that daft looking grin. He said something, but Kris had no idea what he was saying. The wall of sound drowned out everything else, and the lights dazzled him. Like a second wind, his buzz returned full-force.
A woman stood in the doorway.
That was an understatement.
This was no mere woman.
The vision that stood before him was the most perfect woman he’d ever set his eyes on. Life in lower L.A didn’t really boast the highest caliber of femininity, but even Hollywood would crumble before this goddess.
The girl’s skin was white as snow, her eyes were a transcendent green that seemed to glow with ethereal light. They were accentuated further by flowing red hair that shimmered in the stroboscopic lights as if on fire. It hung down over her naked breasts like running lava, curving around the hard jut of her erect nipples and continuing on down to her navel. In her belly button, she wore a black stud in the shape of a pentagram, and below that, only a small pair of cut-off denims that barely covered her crotch. Her long, smooth legs reached forever downwards to a pair of jet black high-heels that looked straight out of a teenage boy’s dominatrix fantasy.
Kris’ mind churned with dreams of bondage. His heart seemed to falter in his chest as he took her in.
She was every man’s dream made flesh. The kind of woman that bluesmen sold their souls over. The kind of woman that generals fought wars for.
If Kris had believed in love, he may well have dropped to his knees and proposed to this luminous sexual being right there and then.
Instead, he merely gawped.
Realizing how he must look, he turned to his friend.
Lee was doing the same.
In fact, the poor fucker looked like he was drooling.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Look at us.
Lucky little losers in the city of lights.
He turned from Lee, embarrassed not only by his companion, but by his own lack of cool.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, the stunning creature stepped forward with a grace that seemed otherworldly, raised her hand to his face and extended her index finger. Black nail polish sucked in the light as his eyes followed her long, lithe finger till it touched his lips.
‘Shhhhh.’
Words failed him entirely.
Smiling, the goddess twisted her body to the side, took her finger from his lips and beckoned them both into ‘The Inferno’.
For once, Kris was in the door before Lee.
They were sat at the foot of the stage, speechless.
Neither friend had said a word since they’d been accosted into this dreamlike realm of sexual wonder and carnal majesty. Even Lee was rendered silent, and sat supping on his ice cold beer as his eyes drank in the wonders that graced the stage before them.
Kris took a long drink himself, trying his best to calm his nerves. These women were like none he’d ever seen. The girl on the door had been a knockout. More than a knockout. She had been, up until that moment, the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and the girls on stage…
They came in all creeds and colors, and one at a time. Black, white, oriental, innocent looking as babes, pure as the falling snow. Goths. Burlesque dancers.
They came in all sizes, too.
One girl – a petite princess with short blonde hair, writhed at the front of the circular stage with her legs spread wide. Kris could see everything, from her shaven mound to the soft folds of her pussy. She teased her clit as he gawped, slack-jawed; her eyes never leaving his till her dance was done.
His penis strained against his denims, almost painful.
After the petite blonde came a girl of Mexican descent. Whereas the blonde’s breasts were small and firm, the Mexican girl’s chest was enormous. Two pendulous fleshy mounds quivered under the florescent lights as she twirled on her heels. Raven black hair hung shoulder length as she caressed her own form like a lover, running her hands over her swollen breasts, pinching her dark nipples to erection.
When she turned her back to the audience and bent forward
, Kris almost creamed in his jeans.
Her ass was perfect, smooth and brown as soft chocolate. Her sphincter pulsed like a tiny eye. Below it, the lips of her pussy glistened. She seemed every bit as excited as the men in the crowd.
When her dance was over, and the cheering began, Kris finally took a moment to take in his fellow audience. Up until then, it had been the last thing on his mind, but on hearing the cheers, he realized that the place seemed strangely muted.
The stage went dark once more, as it had done after each dance. Only the red and green lights that spun and cascaded throughout the smoke-filled room afforded visibility.
Strange.
There were hardly any men here. They made a lot of noise, and were every bit as turned on and eager as he and Lee were, but why so few?
Lee had said this place was exclusive, and everything so far had pointed to that – the doorman, the subtle locale, the sheer beauty of the women who worked here – but still, something felt off.
There were perhaps ten men seated around the dance stage at most.
And as he eyed the room, taking in the bar and the seating areas, he realized something else strange.
There were no male members of staff, either.
Besides the gorilla on the door downstairs, The Inferno was ran entirely by women.
Pretty fucking weird.
Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for establishments to be ran exclusively by one sex, but a strip club…?
That seemed a little near-sighted.
Surely there’d be need for a strong male presence from time to time. The caliber of the dancers practically ensured it. Men were men, and men lost their shit around beautiful women. Combine that fact with alcohol, the ever-pervasive odor of weed, and the fact that these women were barely quantifiable as anything other than purest sexual fantasy writ large, and you had a recipe for disaster.
So why no men?
Why no male bar-staff?
Why no security in the venue?
The barbarian downstairs wouldn’t be much good if the ladies got in trouble. You couldn’t hear shit from down there. And even with his size, one man was only one man.
He wasn’t the fucking Terminator.
The music was softening, lowering in volume as the Mexican beauty glided from the stage with a wave over her shoulder. As she stepped behind the black and gold curtain from where the dancers had entered, he turned back to Lee.
His friend was giggling like a fool. In front of him, the fifth glass of beer sat empty on the table.
Looking down at his drink, he realized he’d finished his own.
Now able to talk over the music, he tapped Lee on the shoulder. “It’s your round, bro. Get ‘em in.”
“Way ahead of ya!” Lee was up from his chair and making for the dimly lit bar before he’d finished his sentence. Kris noticed the sizable bulge in Lee’s slacks as he awkwardly stood.
The concerns he had felt regarding the all-female staff faded away as he watched his friend navigate his way around the cavalcade of beauties that served the few men lucky enough to have been invited to this little slice of paradise.
Instead, he thought about the dancers and what Lee had said about them.
‘You get to touch them.’
Was that true?
Surely women of this stature would never allow just any man to fondle them. The guys in here looked like ordinary Joe-nobodies. This wasn’t a venue filled with the elite. There were no suited, perfectly tailored men sat in here. No high-flyers that Kris could see.
These were ordinary guys.
He wondered who had given Lee the invites.
And briefly, he wondered why.
And then the stage-lights came back on, and Kris immediately ceased to give a shit.
It was the girl who’d seen them into the club. The ghost-white, flame-haired beauty who’d ushered he and Lee into this den of unbelievable eroticism. She sauntered onto the stage, bathed in a soft green light that kissed her porcelain skin as she cut through it and moved forward.
She passed right by the dancing pole, running her slender fingers along its steel length seductively as she passed it by.
And then she was stood directly in front of Kris.
He gulped, shifting in his seat as his erection throbbed and pushed, seeking freedom from its denim confines.
Holy son of a fuck.
She was looking right at him.
And smiling.
Kris felt caught like a rabid-horny rabbit in the headlights of her baby greens. He saw mirth there, a subtle mischievous humor that only heightened her sensuality. Knowing that she’d caught his full attention, she looked down upon herself, ever so slowly, drawing his gaze to exactly where she wanted it, with a confidence and effortlessness that screamed sexuality.
All the way down to her pubic thatch.
The tiny denim shorts were gone now, and Kris was vaguely amazed that he hadn’t noticed until now. Such was her beauty that when she’d taken to the stage, his mesmerized gaze had never travelled further south than her exquisite tits.
He now felt like he’d missed a trick.
Her pussy was every bit the match of her torso, and the carpet matched the curtains.
She’d shaven her pubic thatch so that it resembled small, flickering flames. They seemed to reach up, alive and breathing, from that oh-so-secret place, and kiss the lower area of her navel.
Below the intricately manicured pubic hair, the lips of her pussy were swollen, glistening. Her juices trickled down the insides of her milky smooth thighs.
She was stood right over him now. From his seated position, his eyes were all but level with her wet centre. Within touching distance.
Kris longed to reach out and feel her, slide his fingers over her slick entrance and feel the juices of her sex on his fingertips. He felt dizzy. His head spun.
The goddess open her legs wide, and squatted right before him. As her legs parted, the lips of her pussy opened ever so slightly. Just enough to push a man right over the edge before he ever got a taste of the delights within.
His mind was swimming now, his libido on fire.
Though for some reason, Kris felt a little sick.
His stomach was turning over on itself. Just a little. Not enough to cast aside his burning desire for the wanton, luscious woman squatting by his face, but enough to make him question smoking so much damn weed.
He could smell her now. His cock strained in his pants, dangerously close to explosion, as she reached out with one long, slender arm and placed a finger ever so slowly under his chin. Gently, she urged his eyes from her pussy and back to her hypnotic emerald eyes.
She was smiling wider, now. No longer subtle, nor mischievous.
There was something else there.
A hint of malice, perhaps.
No, he was being paranoid.
All that fucking weed.
Kris’ stomach turned again, more insistent this time. The swell of nausea so pronounced, he felt he might keel over.
His sight was fading too.
The goddess with the fire in her hair was blurring in and out of sight. High definition, then VHS, then back to high definition, then VHS again. A throbbing in his head seemed to pulse in time with the fluctuations in his vision.
Something was wrong. Something was very fucking wrong. This was no whiteout. This was not the weed.
Kris’ tried to talk, but only managed to blurt out some indecipherable gibberish in a slow, idiot slur.
Above him, the naked angel came softly back into focus.
Her smile was wide now.
To his left, he heard a table fall over, the smashing of glasses, and the grunt of a fellow customer as he hit the floor hard.
She winked at him.
“Go to sleep, little boy…” she purred.
Kris did just as he was asked.
He didn’t have any choice in the matter.
Coming around felt close to dying.
His stomach roiled, bile pu
shed up from his gut, burning his throat. Kris swallowed hard.
What happened?
His head was rested on his chest, drool puddled on his lips and spilled down his chest, he felt as though he’d ingested a healthy dose of horse tranquilizers. Straining, he attempted to lift his head. No dice.
His sight swam in and out of focus, not that it mattered. His field of vision consisted of his slight beer gut, his legs and his feet.
And he was naked.
Looking down, he noticed his toes curling up and relaxing, curling up and relaxing, though he could feel nothing. His cock, too, seemed to have developed a mind of its own, though that was hardly a new concept.
It was semi-erect, and looked red and sore.
Had someone been messing with him down there?
The head looked swollen. Pre-cum shone on the tip.
Again, he tried to raise his head, get a better look at just what the holy hell was going on here.
It was useless. He felt weighed down, drugged to within an inch of his life.
It all came crashing back to him.
The red-haired goddess.
The crashing of glass, breaking of tables.
And as he drifted into unconsciousness, the mingling sounds of feminine laughter as men all around the bar hit the floor in near unison.
“Burrgh…?” Talking was hard. Near impossible. The words rolled off his tongue like sludge.
From somewhere to his left, he heard a woman’s voice. “Shut him up,” it said.
He sensed, rather than felt, his head being lifted by the hair. There was pain as hands roughly yanked at his long locks, pulling some out at the roots. Then something was being tied around the back of his head. A leather strap of some sort.
Kris attempted to protest, managing only a nonsensical gurgle before his mouth was forcibly opened by prying fingers, and something cold, hard and round was pushed into his gullet. His tongue caressed the alien object, searching for purchase, a way to expel the thing as he began to gag, retching hard. It was smooth, round.
It was, Kris realized, a ball-gag. Some sort of fucked up bondage gear.
It was tied, too tight, at the back of his head, and he felt the first kiss of a blinding headache as the grip on his hair was loosed and his head lolled forward once more.
Consumed- The Complete Works Page 14