On the stage the man was nodding his head, begging his masked mistress to offer relief. She turned on her black heels and bent forward, allowing the audience to see her ass as she pulled the thong from its crease between her legs. Sliding the scanty underwear slowly down her thighs, she finally stepped out of them and discarded them on the floor. Turning her ass towards the protruding dick, she rubbed her ass temptingly across it. His cock practically flew at her; it seemed to have a mind of its own, complete with eyes that followed her every move. Jonathon sat in his chair now engrossed in the action. Her hands went to her ass cheeks, spreading them for the man and his audience. Bending deep before him, she guided him into her ass. The woman leaned into his prick slowly, enticingly. Jonathon’s own cock crept from its hiding place and ventured out. Shit! Now I’m getting a hard on watching this! He thought. Jonathon noticed something strange though. As she bent forward there was a mark above the crack of her ass. It was too well formed to be a birthmark. It was the size of a business card and the shape of the state of South Carolina, written in blue like a… no, it couldn’t be? A tattoo! Only sailors and GI’s get tattoos!
As the rambunctious dominatrix on the stage took her victim into her ass, the crowd in the audience cheered. Jonathon’s mind reeled with fresh determination and change of heart; he was going to break every damned rule this club could think of!
The woman bounced her ass on the cock behind her, taking it within her depths as if she was in the privacy of her own boudoir. The man’s head was rolling with pleasure, moaning and groaning like a beast warning of an upcoming attack. Her hand went to her clit as he moaned against her back. She rubbed it with a roughness Jonathon thought was only suitable for men. And then they released together, spasms shaking both of them to their knees. Ripples shot up the woman’s spine. From Jonathon’s distance, it appeared like a thousand tiny reptiles racing beneath her skin as she shivered.
The lights slowly came back on in the theatre. The audience applauded as the stage went dark, but he stared at the empty black glass like he’d lost his best friend. He wanted to see her again, be under her spell, under her torture! Hands patted his back in support as he rose from the seat he’d been plastered to the past twenty minutes. They patted him as though he had accomplished a great feat by simply remaining seated throughout the entire show. Jonathon had zero clue what these men thought was the lesson here, but he did know his cock was uncomfortably hard as he stood.
Following the crowd of men to the other room, Jonathon caught a quizzical glance from Dempsey. His father waited in the doorway. “Son, come on let’s get a drink and talk.”
Jonathon allowed himself to be drug to the bar. He noticed Peter’s father also had him by the coattails and was preparing him for conversation. Only Dempsey stood looking confused and alone. Senior grabbed him by the shoulder, and dragged him to the bar like a forgotten waif.
Drinks in hand, Senior turned to them, “Men, what did we learn here?”
Jonathon chuckled, “That you old farts have a wicked sense of humor.”
Dempsey laughed with Jonathon, but Senior turned serious. “Look, do you notice anything about the men in this room that’s peculiar?”
Jonathon thought, yeah they’re all frigging freaks! Fearing backlash from his father, he instead focused on the crowd, “Yes, they are all incredibly successful men.” But he was having a hard time restraining laughter.
“Right. These men have succeeded when men of equal brains, equal finances, and equal education have failed. Any idea on why these chosen few have surpassed the odds?”
Dempsey muttered, “Because they ass fuck in front of fifty old men?”
If Senior could have taken the right, he would have slapped Dempsey across the room. And for a moment Jonathon was sure it was coming and he braced for the blow. Poor Dempsey; Jonathon was creating his eulogy in his mind. Senior instead turned to Alan Reynolds, who stepped up to them from the crowd, “Alan, take this jackass and explain the facts of life. Since Horace is gone, you’ll need to step in as man of the family. I don’t have much patience left in me I’m afraid.”
Alan grabbed his brother in law by the arm and yanked him away from Senior in a protective fashion. “Happy to do it.”
Dempsey revolted against his touch, “Like hell you will. Ya’ll are all perverted pricks. Let me go!” Clearly Dempsey wasn’t fond of brother in law.
The loudness of his voice caused a silent pause in the room and heads turned to watch Dempsey’s demise. Then she swept into the room, blond hair flowing. She marched to Dempsey’s side with an air of control unmatched. Jonathon’s jaw hung halfway to the floor in her presence.
To the elder crowd she was the daughter of Christina and Horace Devereux. Still, they devoured her lustily as she walked straight towards Jonathon. They admired her slightest move as though it were artwork. Her clothing reflected her status; navy skirt, white silk blouse, navy jacket, pearls from the deepest oysters in the orient, and mile high navy heels that added 5 inches to her height. A single drop of water from a glass could have shattered the spell of silence she cast upon the room with her entrance. Her hand went to Dempsey’s sleeve, and with her lips near his ear she whispered, “Come dear, let’s talk. I need to explain some history.”
Confused by his love for his sister and the respect she clearly held here in this room, Dempsey allowed her to pull him aside. But before she moved again she spoke loudly, “I will take my father’s place as Dempsey’s mentor. Does anyone take issue with that?”
Heads around the room shook, “No, no, Nope, not a one,” sounded from the men scattered about. All Jonathon knew was that he wasn’t going to take issue with a damned thing she said. He suspected the others felt the same. He had no idea what she was doing here tonight, certainly it wasn’t her on the stage? A woman like Elise Devereux didn’t do appalling things. It still wasn’t a concrete answer that explained her presence in this men’s club.
Senior turned back to his son, “Well, that could have ended rather nastily, now couldn’t it?”
“What’s she doing here, Dad?”
“Elise is our Grand Dame. She keeps us all in check around here.” Senior grinned.
Suddenly a sickly feeling presented itself to Jonathon’s chest. “I think you better tell me the whole thing, Dad. You know I’m dating her sister?”
Senior patted him on the back with the strength of a grizzly, “Yeah! That’s right! Your Mom and I sure are hoping for the best. Imagine that. My son with Horace and Christina’s little girl! We’re real excited about it, Jonny.”
Jonathon was still at a loss for words, so he just stared blankly at his father. He’d known this man for years, with no sign of perversion written on any wall in their tasteful home; no mysterious chains hanging around, and no dildos in the dining room silver drawer. Oh hell, did Mom know about this? Jonathon wondered.
“So where was I? Oh yes, what we all have in common,” he continued. “Son, we have one distinct advantage over men of similar status in life. We have learned that we must crawl before we walk, that we must follow before we lead. Humility is the finest gift you can offer this world. When men of power lose themselves in their own self absorption, countless others suffer. They become accustomed to the rush of power, the feeling of being able to control their entire lives, and the lives of those beneath and beside them.”
Senior continued, “Many years ago now, one savior saw this within our powerful ranks and she chose not to allow us to sink into the depths of the Harbor along with the countless other failed men of Charleston. Christina Devereux watched Horace demean his employee’s, humiliate them in front of their peers, and ruin their entire lives on a whim. Instead of throwing in the towel, she took control. She donned a white corset, white garters and stockings, and a white lace bra of which I’d never seen the likes of before, and firmly placed her tittering spiked heels straight up Horace’s ass. I recall Horace not showing up at the office for over a week. When I went to their home to find him, Hawth
orne would not permit me entry. I snuck through the hedges to the back of the house and peered into the sunroom, and there I saw the most amazing sight. Horace was tied to a chair naked, his hands and ankles bound with Christina lording over him. I slipped away in embarrassment for my dear friend.”
Senior wiped sweat from his forehead. “Two days later, Horace showed back up at the office. He was groomed to the nines, which was not always customary for Horace, and he had a completely different view of the world. He took it upon himself to repair the injustices that he had made. He personally oversaw raises, and he took it as his own personal journey to make sure that our employees thrived. A man’s business is only as good as the men who work for him. Within a month, our business boomed. Absence rates were down to near zero. Wives showed up during lunchtime to deliver homemade lunches and they would bring Horace treats to show their appreciation. Families made friendships with each other at picnics and Galas hosted by our lovely Christina. Overall the biggest change was that Horace pranced around like he was a young man again. He smiled, shared lunches with deck builders and riveters. He was thoroughly enjoying life. So drastically different were his mannerisms that he was the talk of the town. To be honest, at first I didn’t see it. My job had always centered on obtaining the supplies we needed to build ships. I was usually bound within my office amongst stacks of paperwork. It was only after I saw the quarterly reports that I fell to my knees and begged Horace to teach me what he had learned.”
Senior took a long swig from his glass.
“Horace made me no promises. He took the invitation home to Christina, and she showed up in my office later that week. After being her captive for four days, I realized my shortcomings. I too, changed. I became a better husband, a better father, a much better businessman, and a happier person. Within a few months, Horace was getting pleas from businessmen throughout the area to allow his wife to teach them. But Christina was shrewd, and she chose her submissives carefully. The men you see in this room were trained by her, Cynthia, or Elise.”
“Let me get this straight. There’ve been three Grand Dames?”
“Yep, Christina started the Sand Dunes Club. After her death, Cynthia Pringle took over, and then Elise took the position. I don’t know where Charleston would be today if it wasn’t for these fine women.”
Jonathon tapped the side of his glass with his fingertips considering, “So the men aren’t in charge here at all then?”
Senior laughed, “We’d fuck it all up. The Grand Dame is in charge, and Hawthorne is her second. That’s why we’re so glad to have Robbie with us now. His daddy raised him from a pup for this position.”
Jonathon scanned the room for Hawthorne. He stood by the bar enjoying a laugh with the Governor as if they’d been best friends for a lifetime. “So Christina basically beat you all into submission then?”
Now Senior wasn’t humored. In fact, he looked more serious than Jonathon had seen him in years. “This has been a long trek for us all, Son. I’d appreciate it if you tried to take it more seriously. Without these women we’d be nothing. You wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for Christina.”
His father’s face turned glum, “Elander Dunbar, Cynthia’s first husband, was the final captive of her mission. At the time he wasn’t showing any signs of small pox. He died a week later and Christina followed him shortly thereafter. We all mourn her still, but none more than Horace. They said his heart finally gave way to grief you know.”
Jonathon didn’t recall Horace Devereux being such a sentimental man. As a matter of fact, during the summers when his own parents sent him to the island to stay with the Devereux kids and Evangeline, he didn’t get the impression that Horace was particularly liked by his family. But it was the pick of Cynthia Dunbar Pringle as their second Grand Dame that shocked him the most. The woman gave him the creeps. “So Dad, if Christina started the Club, then who picked Cynthia as her replacement?”
His father took another long swig from his crystal glass, “Christina put in a clause, and she said it was for the safety of our ranks. If a Grand Dame or any other member does something that causes injury or damage to another member, then they are instantly replaced by their victim. Cynthia didn’t give Elander permission to meet with Christina for ‘training.’ He did it behind her back. Therefore, Christina’s own rule bit her in the ass. In all fairness, Cynthia wasn’t a bad Grand Dame. In fact, she was once a fine looking woman.”
Jonathon’s interest was piqued, “So if I join, then Elise is going to tie me to a pole on stage and torture me?”
Senior shook his head, “You’re going to learn humility, human grace, and love. We must all learn to respect others, and grasp that every being is tied to another. Our daily actions affect not only ourselves, but those around us. And no, you haven’t done anything wrong; you won’t be reprimanded in public like that. It’ll be private, as it was in the beginning.”
“So that’s it then? Couldn’t I just take you on your word and not have to be tied up and beaten?” Jonathon humored downing his bourbon with a flourish.
“You can stop being the comedian, Jonathon. This is serious. Take a look around. Do you see a man here who isn’t successful?” Senior insisted.
So Jonathon straightened and shook his head, “No Dad, I don’t. But let’s assume that Elise keeps all these men’s attitudes in check. Don’t their wives have anything to say about that?”
“Wives?” Senior said, as though they’d never considered the wives. “Oh they know about Elise. They call her when we get out of line. Your own Momma is practically her best friend.”
“So Elise is going to ‘train’ me, and teach me all these magical lessons about humility?” Jonathon gulped with the fresh knowledge that his mother not only knew about this, but approved of it.
Senior finished his bourbon and slid it across the bar towards the bartender, “Yes she is.”
Jonathon couldn’t help it. Anguish turned to hilarity as the images scalded his brain, and laughter broke from deep in his gut. He had to hold onto his father’s shoulder for balance he was laughing so hard. For a minute he thought he would pee in his pants right here in the Yacht Club in front of everyone. Tears streamed down his face, “So where do I sign up?” Jonathon rolled with laughter, he couldn’t control it. So he was going to sleep with both of the Devereux sisters.
Senior looked at his son with a rising anger, the boy had absolutely no sense of seriousness within him. Well, he thought, Elise will cure that. He smiled at his son’s boyish face. His laughter was contagious, and soon both men were laughing together, about two totally different things.
We’re all constantly negotiating our religion
~Tara Townsend
My Path to the Pole
Big Black Blow Up Man
That Saturday I left a message for Patty. I need someone to go bikini and toy shopping with me. It takes a special friend to accompany you on that kind of shopping trip, after all. An hour later my phone rings, “Oh girl, you have to come over and meet these crazy women!” I can hear raucous laughter in the background.
“What’s going on over there?”
“Just a bunch of us from the club hanging out by the pool. Come on!”
As I pull into her driveway I can’t help but notice that every single car in her yard is new. My van chokes a little, and seems to get smaller as I pull it between a black Mercedes SLS and a BMW M5. I bolster as soon as I am free of it. Like wearing an old coat over your new prom dress, you just want it off as soon as possible. Patty introduces me to Bonnie Dangerfield, Tonya Conners, and Terry Chalmers. All of whom hug me tightly as if I am a long lost sister. Terry smiles brightly, “Want to take a swim with me?”
The other women groan and I scan their faces to discover the hidden joke. No one is forthcoming. I shake my head nonetheless, “No thanks, I didn’t bring my suit.” And again the group moans.
But Terry sticks out her bottom lip and shrugs, “You don’t know what you’re missing!” And she
plods off in her pink bikini towards the pool. Her deep Lebanese figure is silhouetted by the doorway as she casts one last pout in my direction.
I turn to Patty and Bonnie and ask, “So what’s all the groaning for?”
Bonnie chuckles, “Terry’s examining her lesbian tendencies this month. You’re fresh meat to her right now!”
Patty laughs, “Lebanese Lesbian. Try to say that five times!”
They all laugh while I consider the close call. I’m completely oblivious to the gay lifestyle. I’ve just never been able to tell if someone is gay or not. I’ve always thought they were just people with fantastic personalities. I feel like she’d have to explain how to do it to me. Can we say awkward here? But if I’ve learned one thing over the past few weeks it’s never say never! But the conversation moves on.
“So what do you think we ought to get Kelly for her birthday?” Patty chirps and hands me a Mimosa. “I’m getting her a big black blow up doll.”
I gulp my drink. “Seriously? Who’s Kelly?”
Patty leans against her kitchen counter, “Another one of us, and she’s always asking me for one of my ‘chocolately kisses,’ kind of annoying really. So I’m getting her something ‘chocolately’ to kiss.”
Bonnie recovers from choking on her drink, “What? Oh that’s fucking hilarious!” She nods frantically. “Let’s dress him up like a cowboy or something!”
“Hey, come up with your own gift idea,” Patty teases.
“Oh come on. We could make a whole theme party around this,” Bonnie protests, tossing a dirty blond mane around her shoulder that makes her the envy of Patty’s well tended horses.
“Theme party around what?” Terry strolls into Patty’s kitchen, in her bathrobe, fresh from the pool.
“So we’re planning Kelly’s birthday party. Any ideas?” Bonnie turns towards Terry. “And no trash cans or saran wrap!” she adds as an afterthought.
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