Occupational Hazzards
CHAPTER SIX
Jim and I entered a lounge already populated by two
dozen people; most dressed in a style indicative of
their sexual preference. Several were clad totally in
bright, neon-colored leather with jewelry attached
through a lot of exposed body parts. Two people were
completely naked, the woman stroking her man's leg
while they chatted with another couple dressed in
opera attire. One plump, fairly young man was on all
fours being used as a bench by a naked, obese older
man who was sipping white wine. A pair of very
attractive women sat on a small couch hungrily kissing
each other. A tuxedo-clad male bartender was mixing a
batch of frozen fruit drinks at the polished teak bar
at the far side of the room. Suspended directly over
him was Dana Simpson, my interviewer! Dana was held
aloft by a wide leather belt around her waist just
above her minuscule red satin panties--her only
clothing. Thick chains ran from the sides of the belt
at a 45 degree angle to the ceiling. Her wrists were
attached to her neck by a jeweled collar that
encircled her throat. Her freckled hands were
elegantly splayed over her ears framing her face. The
waist belt connections must have been a ball-bearing
contraption as she spun leisurely around, top to
bottom, depending how she moved her legs. She made a
graceful, animated room decoration with her luxurious
hair fanning through the air as she rotated. I didn't
yet see the man or woman whose session I recently
witnessed.
Jim had wiped himself down but remained in his costume
complete with hood. He explained that the members
liked the staff to stay in character. I was still
dressed in my best business suit.
Jim and I approached the bar and he ordered bourbon
and water for us both. We sipped the drinks while
watching Dana revolve above us.
"What do you think of our Organization Travis," she
asked as her head rotated within a foot of mine.
"I'm afraid I'm still speechless, Ms. Simpson," I
answered. "Even more so now," I added not knowing
where to look while addressing her.
"Oh please, call me Dana," she insisted as her voice
trailed off during her body's upstroke.
"Of course," I replied to the soles of her feet.
Jim nudged me and directed my attention to the door.
His clients from the recent session had arrived. They
had both changed into bright white linen garments that
gave them the appearance of being Arab chieftains.
They flowed across the room toward the bar hand in
hand. The woman embraced Jim stroking his re-oiled
chest while whispering in his ear. Subsequently, the
man clasped him by the shoulders and praised his
earlier performance.
Jim introduced me to the couple as a promising
candidate for the Lead Disciplinarian position. The
woman shook my hand and said,
"My pleasure Travis, once you're officially aboard,
you'll learn our names as well. Jim here is going to
be a tough act for you to follow. He's my husband's,
and my, first choice for our encounters...he gives us
pleasure like nobody else."
"I certainly second that," added the husband. "It's
got to be physically and emotionally draining to apply
enough pressure to my wife to bring her to orgasm; but
Jim's always up to the challenge."
"I was worried this time," Jim interjected. "Your
nipples are becoming like tanned leather. Next time,
I'm thinking about skipping them completely and
working on your lower abdomen. I think you'll enjoy
the attention focused on a new, single region...it'll
concentrate the agony, and, naturally, your pleasure."
He closed with a slight bow at the waist.
"We'll certainly look forward to it," the woman
replied. "However, I do hope you can come up with a
technique that will stimulate my nipples
further--nipple torture stimulates me to my core."
"Well," Jim added while clasping my shoulder, "Perhaps
Travis will bring some new methods to our mutual
madness."
"I'm sure you will Travis," the woman breathed. Taking
my right hand, she placed it on her chest between her
breasts and asked, "and just what would you do with my
nipples, Travis?"
I simply stared into the woman's dark, moist eyes.
Where my reply came from I haven't a clue.
"I believe in modern technology, ma'am; electricity
would stimulate the nerves ignored by heat and
needles; especially with the electrodes' teeth
imbedded deep in the tissue."
I felt her chest quiver and noted her lips part at the
prospect of reaching another plateau of the pain she
loved so much.
"I believe we have a new staff member," Dana said as
her head arced towards us.
