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Chapter 20 My Number Gets Called
At the top of the basement stairs, I was met by one of the female security staff. For an Overseer, she was damn good looking.
“Spread your legs apart hip distance, Twenty-two. Stand still and don’t move,” she curtly ordered as she knelt down in front of me holding a complicated appearing leather harness.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said compliantly. She was definitely pretty and young, college age possibly. That set me to wondering if Slaves and Security every got together for fun and games after the Masters had retired for the evening.
A tough looking older male staffer stood nearby watching us. He looked ready to rush in and back her up if I caused any trouble. I didn’t plan to do anything but cooperate.
She circled my waist with a two-inch wide belt that buckled in front. There was a triangular piece covering my crotch with a hole in the center she threaded my penis through. Her hands were soft and warm and my penis approved of her touch. Two narrow straps were attached at the bottom point of the triangle.
Once my manhood was proudly sticking straight out its portal, she issued another command, “Turn around and bend over. Spread your cheeks.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said finding something erotic about exposing my anus to an attractive female who I’d never met before. I pulled hard on my buttocks so she had an unobstructed view.
“Use a medium, Charmaine,” said the male guard.
“Planning to, Ray,” said the female. When I looked through my legs, I saw she’d removed a butt plug from a small plastic box and was applying a clear jell.
“Eyes straight ahead,” she barked when she noticed I was watching.
I gave a little start when she shoved something cold and slick up my ass. It was a ram it home motion not a leisurely work it comfortably inside move. The plug wasn’t overly thick but it was long and thin. The tip was somewhere in my large intestine.
Later I learned it was a hollowed out butt plug that could be opened at the top. Playful Masters could insert a vibrator or fill your butt with ice water. There was also something more interesting they could do and I would soon find out what it was.
She passed the narrow straps through my legs up my butt crack through a ring on the plug before attaching them to the back of the waist belt. There was no way I couldn’t expel the plug no matter how hard the muscles lining my rectum pushed.
“Stand up straight and turn around,” she ordered when she was done.
She ran her hand over the spiny rubber nodules mounted on the triangle right above my cock. Their only possible purpose could be stimulating somebody’s clit. I hoped the somebody would be the femme at my knees. My penis and I were in complete agreement on that point.
I fantasized her underneath me squirming and begging me to stop pressing the spines into her tender flesh. Her pitiful pleas for mercy would be sandwiched between earnest requests for me to fuck her harder and make her bleed. My fantasies are neither logical nor consistent but whose are.
I was maximum erect and the way she kept touching me made me want to throw her to the ground, rip her clothes off, and fuck the shit our of her. Of course, any attempt on my part would immediately bring Ray and his stun gun to her rescue.
Up to that point, the harness was only mildly confining. She attached another set of leather straps to the point of the triangle then looped them around my testicles separating them and forcing each to the far reaches of my scrotum. At that point, she tightened everything and I thought my nuts were going to explode out of my sack. I fought a wave of dizziness and nausea shifting from foot to foot.
“Too tight,” she asked in a concerned voice?
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied.
She unbuckled the ball straps then gave a sharp tug tightening them more. My cock and balls were stunned. Both testicles were being crushed.
“How’s that,” she asked cheerfully?
“Fine,” I managed to croak. I’m a fast learner.
She attached a short leash to a ring at the bottom of the harness where it wrapped around my scrotum then took off walking at a rapid pace. She was leading me by the nuts. I was too busy trying to deal with the pressure coming from my privates to follow quickly. The end result was that after a few steps she practically ripped my balls off.
“Keep up,” she said looking my way and smiling. She may be pretty, young, and innocent looking as a new born babe I told myself but that doesn’t mean she’s not a world class sadist.
I suppressed the urge to ask her if she was a member or employee of the club. She was a beautiful young woman with a terrific body under her tight fitting black slacks and turtleneck. Rather ominously I noted the presence of a Taser on one hip and a short nasty looking whip on the other.
After the initial painful jerk I worked hard to keep up. It wasn’t easy. I was forced to walk with my legs straddled. The leash wasn’t long and when we went past one of the downstairs rooms I was so distracted by the sound of a man screaming in pain, I stumbled into my guardian’s backside almost knocking her to the floor. Whatever was happening to the poor bastard, it must hurt.
“Sorry, Mistress,” I said reaching to steady her and keep her from falling. That turned out to be a mistake.
“You touched me, Slave. That’s forbidden,” yelled Charmaine yanking hard on my leash as she kicked my feet out from under me. I sprawled on the floor clutching my aching privates.
“Assume the position,” she said reaching for the whip on her belt. Ray AKA Mr. Mean was watching us intently, ready to spring into action.
I obeyed at once. “Yes, Mistress,” I said as scared shitless I knelt down, placed my forehead on the floor and reached back to grab my ankles. Somehow I managed to stay in that position for the three blows she landed. The first turned my mid back into a fiery inferno. The next did the same for my lower back and the third created a whelp across my butt that was visible for days afterward. There were tears in my eyes when she ordered me to stand.
I followed her carefully to the second floor. My escort knocked at one of the doors. We only had to wait a few minutes before Nancy Whitman opened the door and stood aside for us to enter a large bedroom.
“Kneel, Slave,” said my guard as she handed my leash to Nancy who was fetchingly dressed in a white corset that squeezed her waist to what seemed an impossibly narrow state while at the same time causing her breasts to gather gloriously at the top and spill out. White pumps, hose and lace panty completed her attire making a striking contrast with her ebony complexion. Suspenders attached to the bottom of the corset held the hose in place. I decided I was a very lucky slave as I made a mental note to suggest Corrine consider purchasing a corset.
“Did he give you any trouble, Charmaine,” asked Nancy noting the whelps on my backside?
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” said Charmaine as she drew Nancy into her arms. “You look beautiful. Doesn’t she Greg?”
A muffled sound I assumed was yes came from the man strapped to a chair beside the bed. I’d been so enthralled by Nancy’s appearance I hadn’t noticed the black man who I assumed was her husband Greg. He was strapped into an odd looking contraption that looked to be a cross between a chair and a doctor’s examination table.
It turned out to be another furnishing specifically created for the club. It was also manufactured by Lenny’s company and available on the Internet for two hundred ninety nine dollars plus shipping. Called the Love Seat and composed primarily of molded plastic, its enjoyed many advantages over an ordinary chair when it came to BDS&M play.
The occupant’s privates including anus were readily available as were the male or female breasts. I could see Greg’s cock and balls hanging free, ready for whatever his wife had planned. Nylon straps with Velcro fasteners held Greg firmly in place.
Movable struts permitted the placement of limbs in exposed or painful positions or both. One could, for instance, raise the subject’s arms straight up exposing the armpit, one of the areas on the human body most sensitive to pain. Or one could simply place the occupant in incredibly uncomfortable positions and leave for a leisurely lunch.
The seat positions were as adjustable as those of a late model Mercedes. Plus the chair was stain resistant and washable. Before the afternoon was over, I became intimately familiar with the Love’s Seat’s many features.
At the moment, Greg’s arms and legs were secured to the chair in what would call a normal sitting position. However, his face was formed into a grimace by a stainless steel device holding his mouth open. I later learned this nifty piece of medical equipment was called a Whitehead Mouth Spreader Gag. Developed by dentists for patients under anesthesia, the BDS&M crowd adopted it as both a gag and a way to maintain an open mouth in case anything needed to be poured inside or something awful done to the tongue.
“How long before you and Dwayne finish your internship,” asked Nancy maintaining their embrace?
“Only two months,” said Charmaine brushing her lips across Nancy’s.
It seems everybody has an intern program these days. One of the deans of a local business college had recently visited Meade Media to pitch his school’s internship program. I’d agree to participate on a trial basis.
“Not that long,” said Nancy kissing Charmaine again.
I watched as Nancy and Charmaine did some serious snogging. My cock wanted to join them but my butt vetoed the idea.
“I better get back before I’m missed,” said Charmaine breaking the embrace.
“Drop by later if you get a chance. I heard from Nadine that Slave Tom is an excellent rug muncher,” said Nancy.
“Most white boys are. I’ll try but Ray watches all the female interns just waiting for us to screw up. Last month, he caught Tricia and me smoking a joint behind the building. We had to agree to meet him and five of his army buddies at the Longwood to keep him from informing on us,” said Charmaine before heading toward the door. “Bye Greg,” yelled Charmaine before leaving.
Greg made a muffled sound I assumed was, “Goodbye Charmaine, have a nice day.”
“What do you know about electrical torture, Tom,” asked Nancy as soon as the door closed?
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