by Livia Grant
The Doms adjusted the table’s length so Stacy’s ass was just hanging off the supporting wood.
Tiffany trembled as Derek grabbed one ankle of the wayward submissive while William grabbed the other. The men yanked Stacy’s legs back over her body, placing her ankles in padded openings two feet apart in the top of the wood panel. A final wood panel pulled down from above, locking her legs in place just above her head, in a style similar to a stockade.
The final preparation positioned her wrists below the bench, attached to the base of the devious furniture. Stacy was splayed wide, locked into the vulnerable diaper position, ready to receive any and all punishments they wished to inflict.
The audience could no longer see Stacy’s face, but they had a full-on view of her exposed ass and pussy. Tiffany watched Derek as he moved back to the implement closet. When he emerged with a heavy wooden paddle, the kind used in a fraternity or sorority, she shrunk back tighter against Lukus. She was nearly panting, and Lukus worried she was having a panic attack.
“Baby, are you okay? What number are you?”
Silence. Was she holding her breath, watching the scene intently? She may have been watching the stage, but Lukus concentrated on Tiffany. When the sound of Derek’s first direct hit to Stacy’s firm ass filled the entire club, Tiffany flinched as if he’d struck her. Lukus might have thought she was upset, but his drenched fingers, still buried in her pussy, told a different story.
“Answer me. Right now,” he ordered her.
“I’m, well… I don’t know. I’m so confused.”
“Talk to me. What’s confusing?”
The pleasure caused by her wiggling ass on his lap had him nearly shooting his wad in his jeans. Tiffany was bewitched by the sight and sounds of the severe punishment continuing on stage. Derek was up to his fifth hard swat and showed no sign of slowing down.
“I need a number, or we’re leaving,” Lukus told her.
She threw her head back against his shoulder, as if she could somehow hold him in place. “No. Please. I don’t want to leave.”
“Number.”
“I hate it, but I’m still… twelve.”
“Is it the bondage or the paddle that’s turning you on?”
“Both. It’s the whole package. I’m sure I’d hate it if I was in her position, but from here, the scene is really getting to me, Lukus. What kind of a sick jerk does that make me?” She was starting to cry. Lukus suspected she was distressed by her internal battle of good and evil. He reluctantly released her warm cunt to hug her closer, whispering assertively and calmly, directly into her ear.
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not going to feel guilty. There is nothing wrong with you, and even if there is, it’s wrong with every fucking person in the club tonight. Look around you. Everyone is getting off on this. It’s why they come. It’s why I have this club. Some of us are wired this way, baby. It’s okay if you like some things and not others. That’s what I’m trying to figure out, but what I won’t allow, and nor should you, is you feeling guilty for liking what gets you off.”
Stacy’s blood-curdling screams of pain from the stage almost drowned out his voice. As Stacy’s Dom joined the punishment with his own implement—a heavy, long-handled bath brush—Stacy’s screams morphed into moans of submission. Lukus recognized the sounds of her entering sub-space, where the pain triggered her submissive mindset.
Just as he’d have done himself, Derek stopped immediately. Tonight’s show was as real as it got here at The Pit. As a result, Derek ensured that the sub being punished didn’t go to her happy place, as Brianna liked to call it
Reaching into a small black bag of tricks they often took on stage, Lukus watched Derek use a plastic glove to extract a large phallus carved out of ginger root. Stacy couldn’t see what was coming, but she figured it out fast enough when Derek shoved the fake dick in her ass with one hard push. She grunted at the sudden invasion, but within a few seconds, her renewed screams proved the root had its desired effect. She flailed as best she could, considering her hands, legs, and head were completely immobilized.
“What did he put inside her that has her screaming so much?” Tiff whispered.
“Have you ever heard of figging?”
“Oh my God. He just shoved something hot up her ass that’s burning her from the inside?”
“Good girl. In this case, it’s a ginger root carved like a cock. It hurts enough on its own, but I have a feeling Derek soaked it in a spicy mix we use to enhance the effect,” Lukus replied.
“Enhance, my ass. You mean torture.”
“It only hurts for a few minutes and then will die down some—unless she keeps clenching her ass. If she clenches, it will definitely hurt worse and for longer.”
Stacy’s continued cries of how sorry she was had Lukus suspecting she was clenching. Derek resumed his passionate paddling, only now he was spreading around his swings to include her tender sit-spots and thighs. The deep red of her ass had the beginning markings of bruising from the heavy implements being used.
The men on stage took a short break to move the device one-quarter of a turn, giving the audience a side view of Stacy’s vulnerable position. As Derek returned to take up his spot with the heavy bath brush, William released the hinged lock that was holding up the platform under Stacy’s head. The result was her head dropping towards the floor. Her Master had his rock-hard cock jutting out of his pants, advancing towards her mouth. The next time she opened it to cry out, William shoved his cock to the back of his wife’s throat, muffling her cries as her paddling continued.
They hadn’t discussed the details of the punishment with Lukus, but his own rock-hard cock appreciated the show his number two was putting on. He couldn’t help but admire the artistry of the scene in progress. The slave girl getting properly punished while servicing her Master’s hard cock deep down in her throat was an aphrodisiac like few others for the Dom. If her grinding hips and wet cunt were any indication, Tiffany agreed.
Derek had obviously been paying attention all these years because he stopped the paddling almost exactly when Lukus would have, had he been on stage. Her ass had severe bruising and would take days to heal. Considering William would be extending her punishment to tomorrow night, she’d had enough for now.
William removed his cock from Stacy’s mouth with a wet pop. He then began to lecture his wife. “Your first night of punishment is almost over, pet. When we are done here tonight, you will leave here wearing only your chastity belt. It will be the only thing you’re allowed to wear until your punishment is completed tomorrow night. We’ll be back tomorrow night, when you will be caned until I believe you’ve learned your lesson. Now, we’ll finish up tonight. I will remind you, you are not allowed to come, Stacy Lynn. Do you hear me?”
Her answer was a pitiful, “Yes, Sir.”
The men on stage traded places as William slid on a condom and took his place near his wife’s bruised ass, while Derek exposed his own hard cock and positioned himself near Stacy’s head. William removed the ginger root from her ass, preparing to fill the burning hole with something larger. As if they’d rehearsed it, the two men impaled their erections at the same time, each filling one end of the abused submissive. Her gurgled cry as her ass was taken hard was muffled by Derek’s thick cock.
The sounds of Stacy gagging while Derek deep-throat fucked her were the last straw. Lukus had been hanging on by a thread, but he needed to be inside Tiff, now. He yanked the ropes on either side and Tiffany’s legs were suddenly free from her restraints. Lukus sprung out of their chair, whisking Tiffany up in his arms bride style. He’d thought he was ready to fuck her in front of the other club members, but when push came to shove, he knew he was not ready to share her with them on that level yet.
Dashing around the long bar and into the dimly lit corridor, he beelined to the back of the house. It would have to do.
He set Tiff on her wobbly legs long enough to unzip and free his cock from its too-tight confines. “Hold o
n to my shoulders.” He hated hearing his own desperation.
He didn’t remember ever being this close to the edge in the club and both loved and hated that this woman in his arms had the ability to push him to a place where he lost control. The urgent need to be inside her was exhilarating and scary as hell.
He didn’t need to instruct her. Their fevered eyes were locked; she was desperate for him, too. Tiff lifted her legs to clamp around his waist, her chest heaving with pent-up excitement. Lukus paused, willing the moment to last as long as he could before thrusting his body forward, sliding his iron-like cock through her slick folds and bottoming out in one violent stroke. His whole body slammed into her, knocking them hard against the wall. He pinned her there, pulling out and jabbing forward, again and again.
Tiff crying out his name was his final undoing. He latched his open mouth onto her tender neck, sucking hard enough to mark her with a possessive bruise, while his body pistonned her warm center so hard and fast, her head banged against the wall in time to their dirty rhythm. If he were a gentleman, he’d move them somewhere more comfortable and private.
No one’s ever confused me with being a gentleman before so I’m not gonna start now.
He pulled away from her neck just in time to witness her orgasm. He’d been close before. Watching her surrender to ecstasy nearly tipped him over his own cliff.
“Tiff, open your eyes. Look at me.”
Her ocean-blue eyes fluttered open but were having trouble focusing. “That’s it. I need to look into your eyes as I shoot my cum into a woman’s body for the first time in my life. That’s what you do to me, Tiff. Feel me. All of me.” The joyous look on her face was the last thing he registered as he followed her into the orgasmic haze driven by the hot passion they’d created together.
They clung to each other during the slow return to reality. Lukus was still catching his breath when he heard someone asking if she could clean him now that he was done fucking. “I’ll suck you clean just like you like, Master Lukus.”
He saw the pain in Tiffany’s eyes before he registered there was a house slave kneeling next to them, inches away, expecting to suck his spent cock clean. In fairness, it was what he’d have expected of her one week before, but not now. Not anymore. He needed to set some clear boundaries right away.
“Leave, Trixie. I don’t need your services. Tiffany is the only one who’ll be servicing me,” he said.
He could see the relief in Tiff’s eyes, followed by her silent mouthing, “Thank you.” Unfortunately, Trixie was persistent. “But, Master. Please let me help you. I don’t mind.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. I need to deal with this,” Lukus told Tiffany and pulled himself from her slowly, luxuriating in the feeling of being bareback for the first time ever. As she lowered her feet to the floor, he glanced down and was filled with a savage satisfaction at seeing his white cum dripping down Tiff’s inner thigh. He was pretty sure he was the source of the low growl filling the space.
Trixie reaching out to grab his deflating cock brought him back to reality. He stepped back just in time to avoid her touch, moving quickly to tuck his sticky cock back in his pants. When he looked down at his house slave, he understood that perhaps Tiffany was onto something when she’d worried about his former subs wanting to push her down a flight of stairs.
Trixie didn’t try to hide her look of jealous hatred when she realized Lukus just had unprotected sex, a huge no-no at the club. “You broke the rules for her?” Her accusatory tone made Tiff sound like evil incarnate.
“Stand. Now.” Lukus grabbed Trixie’s upper arm and swung her to face Tiffany, stepping up to tower over the slight waif of a sub who was covered in colorful tattoos. He willed himself to contain his anger. “Trixie, this is Tiffany O’Sullivan. She is my girlfriend, and she is important to me. That means she is now important to you and every other person who wants to keep working here. You will treat her with your absolute respect and follow her instructions as if they are my own. Say ‘hello.’”
He felt Trixie shivering, but he couldn’t see her eyes to tell if it was from fear or anger. It didn’t really matter. They would both work. He shook her slightly until he finally heard a quiet, “Hello, Tiffany.”
Tiff was trying not to smile. “Hello, Trixie. Nice to meet you.”
“Whatever.”
Lukus assumed she was sticking to anger. He swung Trixie around to face him. “That didn’t sound too friendly. Want to try that again?”
Trixie’s bravery was crumbling. “Permission to speak, sir.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. “Permission granted, as long as it’s respectful.”
Trixie took a second to choose her words carefully. “I just can’t believe you of all people would break our most important rule, Sir. You’re the one who always talks about the importance of us all being safe and getting tested monthly. You said it wasn’t safe to have unprotected sex, especially with partners from outside the club.”
Lukus considered his response carefully. He may have been answering Trixie’s question, but he stared into Tiffany’s eyes as he spoke. “I’m very grateful for the rules. It’s because I’ve never had unprotected sex, and because I get tested monthly, that I now feel safe to have unprotected sex with Tiffany. The rules haven’t changed. Not even for me.”
“But Sir, how are you going to—”
“I’m not. That’s all, Trixie.”
“But…”
“Leave us. Now.”
“Yes, Sir.”
With a final look of jealousy and awe directed at Tiffany, Trixie left them alone.
They quietly took each other in for close to a minute before Tiffany asked the question he’d hoped she’d let go.
“What was that all about? What are you not going to be able to do now?”
“Let’s go upstairs.” He reached to grab her hand, but she held her ground, crossing her arms across her chest. The woman clearly had a death wish. “Now,” he added.
“No. I deserve an answer. You need to practice what you preach. You’re always telling me we have to tell the truth, no matter how embarrassing or how it might hurt the other. I want to know what the hell she was talking about.”
Lukus wasn’t sure why he was having trouble saying the words.
Just spit it out, sport. Don’t make a bigger deal out of it than it is.
“I just decided to take a minimum three-month sabbatical from playing at the club, is all,” he told her.
“How in the world could she possibly know that?”
“Because three months is how long any employee must wait to play again if they ever have unprotected sex. I made the rule as a precaution for the members so they’d know the employees here are all safe. I pay a nurse to come in and test every employee once a month. Members bring in health certificates every six months to remain in good standing.”
“Still… I don’t—”
“I’ll have to pass three months of tests before I’m cleared to have sex again here at the club.”
Tiff’s mouth opened but nothing came out until, “But, how will you, I mean… you won’t make it three days, let alone three months.”
She’s adorable.
He tried to stifle his chuckle. “Tiff. You aren’t getting it. I just publicly declared you as my only partner for the next three months.”
“Oh. Well. I guess that might work.”
Lukus grabbed her by her waist, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist again. He got them moving towards the elevator. He needed to get her upstairs. All of this talk about sex had him yearning to have her naked in his bed.
“I hope you’re up for the challenge, baby. I’m gonna keep you very busy,” he growled.
Chapter Eight
Brianna
“I’m dying. I don’t know how the hell you talked me into this today. I should be home in bed recuperating, not here working my ass off.” The sweat poured off Tiffany, drenching every inch of
her clothing.
“Shhh. Will you stop complaining already? We’re gonna get kicked out.” Brianna was just as soaked, the black mascara she never should have put on running down her face.
“That would be awesome. Let’s go.” Tiffany was trying her best to cut their stay short.
Brianna kept trying to shush her best friend as she held her shaky, balancing stick pose. “You know we can’t leave once class starts. Stop being a baby and suck it up. We’re over halfway through.”
“Ladies, for the second time. There’s no talking in class. Do I need to separate you?” The muscular man in the front of the room broke his pose, stopping to give the evil eye to his two unruly students.
Brianna tried to reassure him she was taking the hot yoga class seriously. “No, sir. I mean, that won’t be necessary, Tony.”
“I hope not. You two are regressing. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was back teaching high school PE class.” At least he had a smile on his face.
Brianna apologized. “Sorry. We just had really great weekends and are anxious to catch up. We’ll wait until after class. I promise.”
Tiffany whispered back too loudly. “Speak for yourself. I want to get bounced out of here. I need a shower, and coffee, and a nap. In that order.”
Brianna whispered her retort. “Seriously. I’m gonna take my mat and move to the other side of the room if you can’t shut up. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Oh, come on. You should see your running mascara. Trust me. Nothing I can do should embarrass you more than how you look right now, Ms. Raccoon.”
Brianna finally broke pose, giving up. “Well, what do you expect? It’s freaking 105 degrees in here. I’m sorry if my mascara doesn’t live up to your high standards.”
Tony had turned and was looking like he’d finally had enough, while several nearby students shushed them. Before he could speak, Brianna held out her hand. “Don’t say it. We’re going. Tiffany’s being a big baby and I need to take her home for her nap. We’ll see you next time, Tony, and I promise, we’ll behave.”