by Jim Lyon
The Kinky Chanteuse:
BDSM Ménage Erotica FFM
By Jim Lyon
Wordwooze Publishing
© Copyright 2017, By Jim Lyon
Getting the gig at La Chatte Noir was just one in a series of serendipitous events that have defined my adult life. I attended the prestigious Berklee College of Music on full scholarship not because I had a great passion for a career in music, but because I happened to be a talented musician whose parents couldn’t afford the tuition at USC, where I thought I wanted to matriculate studying business. During my senior year at Berklee I was recruited to join a touring jazz ensemble upon graduation, an opportunity that allowed me to travel around the world while earning pretty decent money.
I was on the road for nearly five years with No Holds Barred until the venture ran its course and then stumbled onto another path of least resistance as a chanteuse at the top lesbian nightclub in Los Angeles. The club’s owners assumed that I had Sapphic leanings, but in fact I had no frame of reference for that sort of thing. Indeed, I was fairly inexperienced sexually period, primarily because my six-foot, farm girl physique and androgynous looks were not exactly a magnet for men. Much to my surprise, those same physical traits turned out to be quite popular with the club’s clientele and I became a big star in a small universe.
****
When I first became aware of the dream I was floating... naked... in a hot tub... and there was a wonderful sensation emanating from my loins. Light touches from invisible fingertips fluttered across my breasts causing a barely perceptible shudder. A throbbing between my thighs slowly emerged, gradually increasing until I heard myself begin to moan softly. Soon I squirmed as an intense orgasm coursed through my entire body and woke me. Afterward I lay in the dark enjoying the afterglow, eventually noticing that a velvety tongue was gently lapping my pussy.
There are certainly worse ways to be awakened I thought, idly curious about who was orally pleasuring me and the circumstances that led up to that. As the insistent licking threatened to trigger a second climax, my head cleared enough for me to recall Marie, a waif-like femme, flirting with me at the piano during the last set. I opened one eye and confirmed my suspicion with a peek at the diminutive olive-skinned woman whose mouth was generating disturbingly delicious waves of pleasure in my southern hemisphere.
In a languid, sleep-drunk manner I ran my fingers through Marie’s short curly locks, simultaneously lifting my hips slightly and pushing myself against her mouth. In response Marie augmented the sensuous licking first by delicately kissing my labium and then by tenderly sucking on my engorged clit, sending sporadic bursts of electricity up and down my spine. It wasn’t long before a second glorious orgasm erupted and brought our lovemaking to a pause, with Marie mewling quietly into my quivering pussy as I drifted off to sleep again.
****
Late morning sun streamed into the kitchen and provided a stark contrast to my subdued half-awake mental state.
“It’s a pity you’re not a domme,” Marie remarked as she sipped her coffee, “because I’d be your sub in a heartbeat if you were.”
I smiled wryly.
“Thanks... I think, but I don’t know the first thing about being a domme. I’m not even sure I’d like it. As it is I’m still pretty new to girl-on-girl sex.”
“Well, take it from me you’re a natural born mistress. If I can find someone to teach you, will you consider giving it a try?”
“Damn, you’re a pushy little thing, aren’t you?”
“And your point is what?” Marie replied with a wink.
“So… yes or no? Will you consider it?”
“Maybe.”
“That wasn’t one of the options.”
Following an exasperated sigh, I snapped at her, “Okay, I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you, Mistress Veronica.”
The prospective domme in me straightened and thrust her shoulders back.
“That does have a nice ring to it, n’est-ce pas?”
“Mais oui, mademoiselle.”
****
While killing time at my favorite table during intermission, my daydreams were interrupted when Millie delivered a drink sent over at the behest of an athletic black woman sitting a few tables away.
“Thank you, Millie. A double tap water neat I presume.”
With a sly grin as she left, Millie replied, “Yep. She said to give you another of whatever you’re drinking.”
While she hustled off to greet a cluster of women that entered the club, I raised my glass and toasted my benefactor, who smiled and toasted me in return. I was speculating on how long it would take before my new admirer came over to hit on me when she got up and headed my way. In the short time it took for her to arrive I noticed a quiet confidence in the way she carried herself and a subtle stylish flair to her attire.
Sliding into the chair opposite me, the woman extended her hand and announced, “Hi, I’m Sylvia. Tonight was the first time I’ve seen you perform, but I’m already a big fan. You really are quite good.”
I accepted her handshake, smiling at her boldness and flattery.
“I have other talents besides singing and playing the piano, you know,” I replied coyly.
“Such as?”
“I am quite the accomplished mentalist. Let me demonstrate,” I continued playfully, closing my eyes and placing the tips of my fingers on my temples.
“I see whips and restraints, and intense sexual scenarios. You are the person in charge... a... mistress. How am I doing so far?”
“Not bad,” Sylvia responded, her eyes wide and her head shaking in amusement.
I resumed my demonstration.
“There is a connection between you and me. It’s a person... a woman... small in stature... her name begins with an M. Wait, it’s coming to me... yes, Marie, that’s it. Oh, there’s more. She asked you to feel me out about becoming a domme.”
Sylvia laughed heartily at the final reveal.
“Busted! How did you figure all that out?”
“Well, first of all, you come off how I imagine a domme would—super-confident, calm, fit. And it’s highly unlikely that a domme would pick a big woman like me out of the herd as a potential submissive. So, I put all that together with knowing Marie’s one-track mind and persistence, and it seemed like a logical conclusion.”
****
While leading me to the playrooms, Sylvia was resplendent in her leathers, exuding poise and raw sexuality. Even in the midst of Stocks & Bondage, which teemed with stunning dominants in fetish attire, she stood out like the Northern Star. In the first phase of my introduction to BDSM, I was shadowing her, not cutting nearly the dynamic figure she was, but looking fairly intimidating in my goddess boots and form-fitting catsuit nonetheless. The appreciative glances I received from some of the subs and dominants we passed were having an aphrodisial effect on me.
Sylvia and I came upon a scene in progress that featured a middle-age domme and a much younger female sub. The couple was not particularly photogenic; the domme was about fifty pounds overweight and borderline homely, her sub was scrawny with a sallow complexion. But judging by the intimately affectionate manner in which they interacted, it appeared that each was oblivious to the other’s physical imperfections.
“Just observe and learn,” Sylvia whispered. “We’ll talk about the session later.”
The sub was suspended face up with her limbs spread apart, supported by chains hanging from the ceiling that were attached to the cuffs on her ankles and wrists. The domme was busy affixing clamps to her labium, each of which was connected by a short thin chain to a one-pound weight that swung back and forth
at the slightest movement. After the last clamp was in place the domme removed a small flogger from her tote and began lightly stroking the sub’s breasts with its tendrils. Soon the impact of the strokes gradually increased and their target drifted lower until finally the narrow strips of leather were kissing the sub’s pussy, eliciting aroused whimpers as the sensations from the blows and bouncing weights radiated through her loins.
This was the first D/s scene that I had ever witnessed—and it was electrifying! My clit throbbed relentlessly while my pussy twitched in unison. I was overwhelmed with a jumble of erotic reactions, mental and physical, struggling to ascertain why I found the scenario so arousing. That would get sorted out later I decided, for the nonce I was content to enjoy this amazingly intense voyeuristic experience.
The erotic flogging stretched out at an excruciatingly languid pace, neither of the participants in a hurry to arrive at its natural conclusion. When the young sub was nearly delirious from the wicked pleasure-pain that her lover orchestrated, the domme dropped to one knee and began working her hand inside the sopping wet, dilated orifice eagerly awaiting it. Before long she was elbow deep and fisting that hungry pussy with gusto, causing her partner to howl and moan ecstatically with each thrust. I was transfixed as I watched the older woman start sucking her lover’s clit even as she continued fist-fucking her pussy. A delightful thrill trickled up my spine when a prolonged soulful wail announced the shuddering whole-body orgasm that ultimately left the sub limp, dazed and sated.
****
Sylvia clasped my hand and led me to an unoccupied room nearby.
“So, how did the real thing measure up to all your naughty fantasies?” she wanted to know.
Her question roused me from my reverie where I was indeed comparing the reality of D/s play with my romanticized fantasies.
“Much better,” I managed to squeak in reply. “I have never seen, or participated in, a sexual coupling of that intensity before.”
“And now for the million-dollar question, which role did you relate to the most, the domme’s… or the submissive’s?”
I considered her inquiry as the seconds slowly ticked off. Trying my best to answer honestly, I thought back to my admittedly few sexual liaisons and analyzed my role in their dynamic. I was always the passive partner; never did I initiate or lead the relationship in any way. And remembering watching that recent scene and my arousal as the flogger slapped against the sub’s pussy, the answer became clear.
“The submissive’s,” I finally whispered.
“Marie will be disappointed,” Silvia replied, chuckling quietly, “but I can think of a lot of tops who won’t be. Do you want to explore your submissive side? If so, I can help you and later provide introductions to potential playmates.”
“I think I would,” I responded without hesitation.
Silvia smiled and said, “There’s just one more thing I need to know then. Do you want to submit to women, men, or both?”
“I’d like to keep my options open, so both” I answered, stepping onto one more path of least resistance by doing so.
****
I joined Stocks & Bondage to facilitate learning basic BDSM protocols, discovering which fetishes appealed to me, and developing a tolerance for pain. Of course, my first session there was with Sylvia because I trusted her implicitly. We arrived for my debut in regular street clothes, and while she changed into her leathers, I stripped off all my clothes in order to be compliant with the club’s dress code for submissives.
I was buzzing with humiliation and arousal as Sylvia led me through the club by a leash en route to my appointment with destiny. By the time we arrived at the well-appointed dungeon my pussy was quite moist. Glancing around the room at the ominous looking equipment and implements of torment, my arousal ramped up considerably. And when Sylvia started securing me to a pillory in the middle of the room, I felt my stomach flutter and a palpable wave of surrender wash through my entire being.
It was a surreal experience staring at the naked and bound image reflected in the mirrored wall directly in front of me while Sylvia placed my head, hands and feet in the appropriate openings of the pillory’s yokes and locked them in place. I can honestly say that I had never been as excited as I was at that moment, teetering on the brink of embracing my submissive sexuality.
The bite of an alligator clip that Sylvia attached to my nipple startled me, as did the ones that followed on my other nipple and my clit. After the initial shock, the pain leveled off to a low-level ache. When she added a small weight to each clip, the sensation was much more insistent, even when I stood completely still. Oddly, that steady discomfort made me restless, eager to begin the session in earnest.
Sylvia pressed a rubber ball in my right hand and folded my fingers around it before telling me, “If the pain or the emotions get to be too much for you to handle, just drop the ball and I’ll stop.”
Even as I nodded to convey that I understood, a stubborn voice in my head was saying there is no way in hell that I will ever drop that ball. Of course, that was just before Sylvia forced a ball gag in my mouth and strapped it in place at the back of my head, and then plunged me into total darkness by covering my eyes with a blindfold. Waiting there unable to see heightened my other senses; the pungent fragrance of arousal tickled my nostrils while I strained to decipher the sounds Sylvia was making in preparation for my imminent initiation.
Without warning Sylvia began slathering lubricant on my anus and then slowly eased a buttplug into my rectum. I twitched in surprise when the plug suddenly started vibrating, sending delicious tremors throughout my rear passage. I barely had a chance to enjoy the naughty pleasures that device was providing when a sharp stroke, from what I later learned was the tendrils of a flogger, smacked against my ass, generating an unfamiliar blend of sensations that was vaguely disturbing yet exquisitely sensual!
Slowly and deliberately Silvia worked me into a frenzied state of arousal as she circled around me and skillfully flogged my body while the plug vibrated relentlessly in my bowels. My nipples and clit increasingly throbbed as the clips and their weights jostled with each impact from the flogger. I nearly swooned when she started to concentrate the blows from the flogger on my pussy, and eventually felt myself drifting into a deep submission as I welcomed the pleasure-pain her efforts created.
Sylvia continued to expertly guide my first foray into the dark pleasures until I finally arrived at my destination—the most intense and spectacular orgasm of my life! I quivered in the aftermath for what seemed a long time while Silvia soothed and comforted me. Even in my emotionally spent state of mind I knew to my core that there was no turning back, I was a submissive for life. The only question was how deep I would immerse myself in my newly discovered sexuality.
****
Due to my performance schedule at La Chatte Noir, my visits to S&B were limited to afternoons and two weekday evenings, times when the club usually wasn’t very busy. Several months after embarking on my new lifestyle, Annie, my semi-regular play partner, showed up with a friend, a woman about my own height who was dressed more like a biker chick than a domme. I wouldn’t say Julie looked like rough trade, but she definitely had a bad girl thing going on that I found to be super sexy.
After Annie introduced us and confirmed that I was okay with her joining our session, Julie pulled me close and kissed me so intensely that my knees nearly buckled. Her sensual French kisses lit up my pussy and I immediately knew that this was lust at first sight… and possibly much more. By the time we broke for air I was trembling with excitement.
Julie looked deeply into my eyes for several seconds before quietly issuing her command, “Kneel.”
I did as I was told, and watched with rapt attention as she unzipped her jeans and eased them down, revealing that she was going commando underneath. With both hands, Julie pulled my face into her crotch and without being told to I began servicing her pussy with my tongue. She sighed with pleasure as I sucked her clit into my mouth and
licked it gently. As her arousal increased Julie ground her delta into my face, smearing her juices on my nose and cheeks. The tangy natural perfume wafting off Julie’s pussy ignited my own fire and inspired me to bring her pleasure to fruition with as much speed and intensity as possible. Very soon my efforts were rewarded when she let out a startling whoop as her ejaculate squirted into my eager mouth.
I remained on my knees as Julie pulled up her jeans and refastened them. Once she had straightened her clothes and regained her composure, she said to me, “That was wonderful. You’re very good at oral servitude. Now I’d like to see how well you take a whipping. Are you up for that?”
Without reservation I nodded and replied, “Yes Mistress, I am.”
Julie and Annie helped me to my feet and quickly attached my wrists to leather cuffs hanging from the ceiling, and then secured my ankles to a spreader bar connected to the floor directly below. I was spread in the shape of an X, completely vulnerable over every inch of my body save the soles of my feet. Although I was still a newbie, I had already experienced severe whippings and learned to relish them. Instinctively I knew that the corporal punishment I agreed to would test my limits.
“We’re going to double team you,” Annie announced as she stood in front of me holding a riding crop in her hand. “Use your regular safe word if you need to.”
With that she stepped back in order to be in position to whip me properly. When she moved I glimpsed Julie holding a bullwhip in her right hand. As usual, despite knowing how painful the forthcoming scene was likely going to be, that stubborn part of my psyche resolved that I would endure it no matter what—I would not be using my safe word.
Annie began smacking my clit lightly with the leather flap on the end of her crop. The darkly erotic sensations from those repetitive slaps were making me wet and randy, distracting me from thinking about the inevitable harsh lashes from Julie’s bullwhip. I was completely focused on my pulsating nub when the first vicious sting on my ass changed the whole complexion of the scene.