I pulled his boxer shorts down to join the pants, and Roman’s little soldier stood at stiff attention. I let it brush against my cheek as I slid down and grabbed his right ankle and freed it from his pants. Before I put his foot back down, however, I snapped a shackle securely around it. I quickly repeated the process with his left ankle.
“Hey!” yelped a startled Roman.
“You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you!” I said, giving my voice a stern edge.
“Oh,” Roman grinned, “So it’s like that, is it?”
I put one hand on each side of Romans shirt collar and pulled hard. Buttons flew off as the shirt ripped open. Roman suddenly tensed under my touch.
“Hey! Do you have any idea how much that shirt cost me you stupid bitch?”
“Shhh,” I replied, shoving my finger over his lips. “This will be worth it.”
I pulled his arms out of the ruined shirt one arm at a time, and just like his feet, I locked each arm in a shackle. Now I finally had him where I wanted him. I stood up, walked back to the door, and flipped on a light switch. Electric lantern lights cast an eerie glow across the room affectionately known as “The Dungeon”. I could see growing apprehension in Roman as he saw the room’s various leather whips and spiked paddles.
“Hey, babe, let’s not get too fancy. How about you just give me a blowjob?”
I smiled and pulled off my mask. Roman’s eyes went wide in shock, but he did his best to recover.
“Oh. . . Oh! Bri!” he stammered, “I’m so glad we bumped into each other. I’ve got a lot of things I need to tell you. I’ve missed you!”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Roman used to be able to charm me like a snake, but now his bullshit just seemed silly. Roman didn’t seem to know how to react to my laughter, and after a few awkward moments he started laughing too. That would not do—he was not in on the joke.
My heart pounded as a I walked over to him; silence replacing laughter. The crank on the side of the rack-like device he was shackled to creaked and rattled as I turned it. Roman was forced to his feet and soon he was stretched taut as if he’d frozen during a jumping jack. His expression began to melt from anxious anticipation to nervous dread.
“Forget about the blowjob. We should talk.” said Roman, forcing a fake smile, “Let’s undo these shackles. I’m not really into this kind of kinky shit.”
I gave Roman my best lottery-winner smile as I grabbed a ball-gag from a silver tray of leather toys and forced it over his mouth. Then I reached down and took a firm grasp on his dick. Roman’s dick was was always on the small side, but if it had one good quality it was how quickly he got hard and how long he stayed that way.
I started jerking it violently. It was a handjob in the same way that a bullet to the side of the head is an ear piercing. Back and forth, up and down, side to side—I tugged his manhood like a Grand Prix driver changing gears.
“You wanted a blowjob, right?” I said with a smile like a mischievous badger.
Down I went, taking Roman’s hummingbird dick into my mouth in its entirety, but not without a generous helping of teeth. I bobbed my head letting his one-eyed worm burrow back and forth into my molars. I made sure to mix just enough pleasure in with the pain to keep Roman’s traitorous tumescence from going soft. Finally, after what must have been a quarter of an hour, Roman groaned and filled my mouth with hot man sauce.
I stood up, undid Romans gag, and gave him a deep, passionate kiss—it put him off guard for just long enough for me to spit his own junior juice back into his mouth. Surprised, he gagged as I pulled my mouth away from his and snapped his ball gag back into place. Suddenly unable to spit, he must have accidently inhaled some of it because he began coughing violently. I let him recover just long enough to believe his ordeal might be over, then I smiled and walked back to the tray of leather toys.
I grabbed a large black dildo complete with painful looking spikes studded all around its sides.
“Well, Roman,” I said through a smile, “Let’s get started. We’ve only got all night.”
I paddled, whipped and punished my way to daybreak. After an hour, I even got the idea to call in some old friends. I went back to the party for long enough to find some helpful “volunteers” to help me “punish my disobedient slave”. And since everyone was wearing masks, they were only too happy to let me take pictures of every depraved sex act we forced on Roman.
When the night was over, I undid Roman’s gag and started to show him my extensive collection of photographs on my new iPhone.
“This one, I think, is particularly nice.” I said, commenting on one where a fat old man smacked Roman’s ass with a spiked paddle.
For the first time since I’ve known him, Roman didn’t have anything to say. He was a beaten shell of a man. Maybe I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. Roman deserved it all—besides, there was something poetic about the situation. The Romans had tortured Christ, and now I, a woman of deep Christian conviction, had given a little payback to this particular Roman.
“I think your new wife might really appreciate this one.” I said holding my phone up to show another, “I wonder whose dog that was . . .” Roman reinflated just enough to look at me in horror. I took off his ball gag. “What do you think? Maybe I’ll just send them all to her.”
“You’re crazy! That’s all evidence!”
“Evidence of what? How big of a manslut you are? You came to a sex club to have sex, obviously. Nobody is going to believe you didn’t want it.”
“Hey, and you know what?” I continued, “This state is a community property state. So when you get divorced you’re going to lose half of everything—including half of your 80% stake in FullyDateable.com.”
“No!” cried Roman, “she will understand. She knows that I can’t be tied down—that sometimes she has to share.”
“Share with this guy?” I said holding up my phone so Roman could see yet another photo of him with a 300 pound black man. Despite the mask, he was obviously an NFL player I had seen around the club before. “No, I don’t think so, Roman. I think you’re about to lose 40% of FullyDateable. Serves you right too, for screwing me out of my 20%.”
“Wait! The IPO paperwork isn’t finalized.” Roman practically gibbered, “I can get your stock options put back in! I can get your 20% back!” It was obvious that I’d won. Roman’s eyes were wild with panic.
“It’s 30%, now”, I said smiling beatifically.
“But, but!” Roman spluttered, “That only leaves me with 50%!”
“Which is more than 40%, last time I checked . . .”
Roman looked down, defeated. “Fine,” he said, “Thirty percent. But you have to delete the pictures after.”
“Deal,” I replied. My hands quested in his pants pocket and held out his phone, turned it on, and began looking for his lawyer’s contact number.
“What are you doing?!” a visibly nervous Roman asked.
“What do you think? Calling your lawyer. You’re going to tell him to change the paperwork immediately.”
“And then you’ll delete the pictures?”
“I’m not stupid, Roman. I’m not some naive little girl fresh out of college that you can manipulate anymore. I’ll delete the pictures after the IPO is finished and I have my money. Not a moment sooner.”
And so, like a kicked puppy, Roman rolled over. I held the phone while Roman, still shackled, gave him new instructions. Then I started for the door.
“Hey! Wait, Bri, where you are going? Unshackle me!”
“Sorry, I don’t have the key! But the Diamond Club is closing for the day, so I’m sure someone will unlock you eventually.”
I walked out and never saw Roman again. That was six months ago. The IPO went through and I got paid, then I deleted the photos as promised—right after emailing them all to her.
So what do you do when you’re one of the richest women on the planet? Well, I bought a few bakeries to start. My cupcakes are selling like hotca
kes. But lately baking has seemed a bit more boring to me. I’m thinking about maybe expanding into other markets—perhaps some angel investing.
Also, I recently heard that a certain exclusive nightclub might be for sale to the right owner. And I’m starting to think that since I’m in there every night, I might as well own the place. For someone looking for excitement, I highly recommend it. Anything can happen . . . at the Diamond Club.
Table of Contents
The Diamond Club: A Novel
About the Author
Hello World
And so it begins...
The Diamond Club
Riding a Mustang
Cupcake Tryst
Sleepless in San Francisco
Wings Spread
Driven All the Way Home
No Lights, No Camera, All Action
Sizzling Griddles
Three-Legged Larry
An Unexpected Tryst
Summer Fun
On the Trail
Delay of Game
My Night In
Circus Tent
The Good Samaritans
Strawberry Fields
In Need of a Screwdriver
Righty-Tighty, Lefty-Loosey
Screws Included
The Basement
Vodka Cranberry with a Twist of Passion
Soviet Sex Toy
Try Before You Bi
A Golden Opportunity
A Masterpiece
Bratwurst for Wear
Bang!
Breaking the Mold
Do the Research
No Objections
Oh Doctor!
Nerdiest and Dirtiest
Symphony of Sex and Silence
The Business Card
The Honeymoon
Downward Dog
Wub Wub
Honey for the Queen Bee
Out With a Bang
The Nautilus Dives Deep
A Friendly Shack
Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels
Solo Play and Salad Tossing
Not in the Fast Lane
Lust in Space
Diamonds Last Forever
The Diamond Club: A Novel Page 19