The Silver Locke

By: Michael Alexander

Chapter 1: The Interview

       Thousands of red and gold leaves swirled in tiny whirlpools as the silver sedan sped down the smooth and even blacktop towards the building on the far hillside.  Trees crowded close to both sides of the road, culminating in a dark tunnel that was slowly beginning to let in the murk of a darkening sky.

       There was a crunching sound as the Lumina slowed and turned on to the private driveway.  A large cast iron gate, attached to a motor, barred the way, forcing the sedan to stop.  Slowly, the darkly tinted window came down revealing a girl’s face.  Bright blue eyes, a spattering of freckles and the deep russet of auburn hair stared at the small intercom box and video camera that stood on a pedestal next to the driveway.  She reached out and pressed the tiny white button. 

       There was a momentary wait and then a man’s voice.  “Can I help you?”

       She licked her lips.  “Um…yes.  I’m here about a job?  I saw your ad on the internet.”

       “Are you applying for a wait staff position, or entertainment?”  The man asked, his voice seemingly polite and friendly.

       She paused just a moment before answering.  “Entertainment.” She replied.

       “Excellent, because the kitchen manager hasn’t arrived yet.  Please drive through the gate and come right up to the main door.  I will be waiting for you.”  The man said.

       There was an electric hum and the well cared for gate slowly opened.  The soft hiss of her window rising followed and she began to move the car onto the property.  The driveway curved around to the left behind a grove of trees and she passed a large well-painted wooden sign with metallic letters reading “The Locke”.

       Halfway up the hill she saw a large building, dark and foreboding, but modern in architectural style.  Sweeping square columns formed an unloading area at the front door, covered with a porch like extension.  It was easy to imagine limousines pulling up to the door, disgorging their occupants. She pulled her car close to one of the columns, leaving more than enough room for other vehicles to get by.  Carefully she grabbed her purse and stepped from her car.

       Her auburn hair was loose and it cascaded down to her shoulders.  She was wearing a black dress, sleeveless and low cut, exposing a deep cleft between her breasts.  It came down low, modestly when compared to the neckline, to almost her knees and she matched it with a pair of high heel shoes of the same color.

       For just a moment she bit her lip, rethinking her entire purpose, when suddenly the front door opened.  A thin man of about thirty-five years exited, his face beaming a welcoming smile.  He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and a dark blazer and his black loafers were shined to perfection.

       “Hello!  I’m William Price, the entertainment coordinator.  Welcome to the Locke.”  He held out his right hand.

       The girl smiled softly and reached out, taking Mr. Price’s hand in hers.  “Breanne Erikson.”  She said softly.

       “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Erikson.  Why don’t you come on in?”  He released her hand after a gentle squeeze and motioned her too the door.

       “We aren’t open till five tonight, so we have a minimum staff here right now.  In fact I think only our maintenance and cleaning staff is here, so I hope you will forgive me if we are interrupted by a vacuum cleaner on occasion.”

       Breanne nodded.  “That’s fine, Mr. Price.”

       He laughed as he opened the heavy wooden door, a fine silvery peal.  “Oh please, call me William.”

       Together they walked down a finely decorated hall.  Its wooden panels seemed to glow under the light of the chandelier and Breanne saw several works of art hanging on the walls.  Mr. Price strode forward and pulled at a set of interior doors.  Together they walked through the interior entrance and Breanne found herself standing at the back of a large room, filled with cloth covered tables and soft chairs.  It was very dark except for some bright lighting at the far end that seemed to be focused on a raised platform.  In the very center of the dais stood a large wooden colored block.  It was a dark mahogany, polished and glistening under the light.

       Breanne followed Mr. Price down toward the stage.  He motioned her to a table that had a small stack of papers sitting in front of one chair.  Mr. Price pulled out the chair and gave her a gentlemanly smile.

       “Comfortable, Ms. Erikson?”  He asked as he sat.

       Breanne nodded.

       “Excellent.  Well first, I have to say that you are incredibly beautiful.  You seem perfect for our entertainment staff.  Where exactly did you see our advertisement?”

       Breanne swallowed.  “Well, I saw it on the internet.”  She said, her fingers closing together in front of her.

       “I see.  In one of the forums?”  Breanne nodded.  “Excellent.  It’s nice to know those work.”

       Breanne smiled at the jest.  Mr. Price looked down at his papers.

       “Ms. Erikson, I know that you saw our advertisement, but I have to inquire if you are fully aware of the kind of private club the ‘Locke’ is.”  Price said, a look of concern on his rugged face.

       Breanne swallowed and nodded.  “Yes I understand.”

       Price smiled.  “Excellent.  We are fully licensed with the appropriate exemptions, though I admit that being on an Indian Reservation has certain merits.  We have a few requirements that I wanted to relay to you before we get started with the interview.  First of all, our entertainment staff is required to submit to blood tests once a week.  We test for drugs and sexually transmitted diseases.  Second, you must sign a non-disclosure agreement prior to working.  We frequently have guests who are either well known, or government officials and we try very hard to prevent blackmail.  Third, you may not seek outside employment unless it is with a certified guest of the ‘Lock’.  Do any of those requirements disturb you?”

       Breanne shook her head.  She had been expecting rules like that.  “No sir.  In fact, I have a copy of my latest blood test.  The advertisement said that having a recent one would expedite the hiring process, but I’m not sure what I understand about the outside employment.”

       Price nodded.  “Well simply put, on occasion, one of our guests requests one of the entertainers to provide private services for him outside the club.  Entertainers are certainly allowed and encouraged to do this, but you are only allowed to provide this service with our guest members.”

       “Okay, I understand.”

       “Excellent.  Let me describe the basic activities that happen with our entertainment staff.  First of all, as you can see we have a main stage and one small platform near the rear of the main floor.”  Price motioned to the raised platform and then the rear stage, which was dark and barely visible.  “We have approximately thirty entertainers on a shift. Monday through Friday we have two shifts, five to midnight and eight to two.  Saturday and Sunday we open at eleven and close at three and have three shifts.  The second starts at four.  The third starts at eight.  Basically put, during the dinner and lunch buffets, we are a typical dance club.  All the entertainers are placed on a list and dance two songs on the main stage, then two songs on the back stage.  The girls are then entitled to engage the guests.”

       Breanne’s eyes were wide and she was listening intently.  Price looked at her with a little concern.  “Are you okay?  You seem a little shell shocked.”

       Breanne bit her lip and gave a tiny laugh.  “Oh no, well…yes a little.  I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be so orderly.  You know, run like a business.”

       “But it is a business.  A very profitable one for you and the club.”

       The red haired girl nodded.  “I’m sorry.  The last club I worked at was a little chaotic.”

       Price shook his head and reached out, patting Breanne’s hand.  “Not a problem.  Now, where was I?”

       “Engaging the crowd.”  Breanne said.

       “Oh!  Right.  Anyway, after the first hour we begin our auctions.  The choices are by list or a guest can ask for a particular girl to be placed on the block.  The entertainer is then auctioned off to the highest bidder and she and her purchaser then spend an hour in one of the eleven auction rooms at the back of the building.  We also have twenty private stalls upstairs and at the back of this room for private dances.”

       “I see.”  Breanne said, looking to the back of the room.

       “The stalls, not to mention the auction, is where you earn the majority of your income.  First of all, every private dance is twenty dollars and those are how you want to encourage the guests to make a bid for you.  The private dances can get steamy, up to actual sex.  We frown on that because it devalues the auctions.  Everything you earn from the dances is yours as take home pay.”

       Price leaned back in his chair.  “The auctions are high dollar.  I’ve seen some go as high as twenty thousand.  The club gets half, and the other half goes to the girl being auctioned.”

       “T-t-twenty thousand?”  asked Breanne in shock.

       Price laughed.  “Those were some rare cases.  Usually auction prices range between a one and five thousand dollars.  So you can see that you can really earn a lot.”

       Breanne leaned back in her chair, still floored, but with a spreading smile on her face.

       “So are you still interested in interviewing?”  William Price asked.

       Breanne grinned and nodded.  “What’s first?”

       Price stood up.  “First we see if you can dance.   There are some props through that doorway if you want any of them.  I’ll go up and get some music playing and then come back down here and see if you’re any good.”

       Breanne looked at the doorway and then turned back to Price.  “First dance down to under things, second nude?”  Price nodded and gave her a thumbs up sign as he moved to the DJ’s booth.

       She moved across the hall to the small stage door and stepped in.  To her left was a table that held a few scarves, a few whips, a policeman’s hat, and numerous other items.  Breanne took a moment and then smiled, grabbing up a small container whose contents rattled as she mounted the steps out onto the brilliantly lit stage.  The sea of tables was dark and the spot light was bright.  She walked to the edge of the stage and put the bucket down and then returned to the middle, putting one leg up on the large wooden block in the center of the stage.

       The heavy beat of the music filled the room and Breanne immediately began to sway.  Unable to see Mr. Price, she sauntered her way from the block to the front of the stage, letting her hips swing with every step.  She had chosen her dress carefully, expecting to have to dance, and as she swirled in the bright spotlight and colored flashers, her fingers found the small zipper, pulling it downward.

       In moments, the dress slipped off her body and fell to the floor.  Her breasts, the size of ripe grapefruit hung supported in black lace, and a tight tiny “g” string thong panty covered the dainty cleft of her sex.  Once more she stepped forward to the edge of the stage, pleased to see Mr. Price staring at her.

       She dropped to her knees, undulating in front of him, pushing her fingers against her breasts.  She slipped down, sitting on the stage, spreading her legs wide apart, then arching her back, her lithe body twisting like an acrobat.  She continued as Price moved forward and sat down at the closest table, watching her intently.

       Finally the song slowed and stopped and she winked at Price.  As the first beats of the next song started, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra.  Dropping it seductively, she once more paraded herself up to Price’s table, shaking her breasts inches from his face.  The large pink nipples were hard and Breanne found herself getting turned on.  Her face flushed as she knelt at the front of the stage, twisting and sliding in one movement, pulling the g-string off and down her long legs.  She spread her legs, opening the pink petals of her sex and plunging her middle finger into herself.

       She twisted back again, standing up, and went to the small metal bucket.  Picking it up, she brought it straight to the table Price was sitting at.  She knelt down, spreading her legs wide apart, her clit swollen and pink, her chest heaving in excitement.  She reached into the bucket and pulled out a handful of clothespins, sprinkling them down on Price’s table like rain.

       She smiled and nodded, mouthing the words.  “Anywhere.”  Her hips rocked back and forth to the music as William Price picked up a clothespin and held it to her left nipple.  Breanne laced her fingers behind her head, tensing herself for the bite of the peg.  Price let go, letting the wooden tooth bite down hard on her nipple.

       In a flash she was up, twisting around the stage, the wooden clothespin dangling from her breast.  She swayed and then once more approached Price who quickly picked up another clothespin.  Breanne dropped down and spread herself again, yet pushed her bosom forward until Price reached up and clothes-pined the other breast.  Breanne moaned and then sat back on her bottom, spreading her legs wide at the edge of the stage, nodding to Price to put just one more on.  The pink lips of her sex were wet and her clit extended.  William Price was no longer examining her for fitness, only reacting as a desperate man.  He let the third clothespin close on her clit, a wooden mouth intent on her intense sensations.

       Breanne rolled and once more got to her feet.  She swirled, lifting her legs, bending, and rolling, the three clothespins still fast upon her.  They bounced as she danced across the stage, Price’s eyes glued to her body.  Bre flashed him a darling smile as the song ended.

       “That was incredible!  Do you have a lot of experience dancing?”  Price asked as Breanne stooped to pick up her clothing, the clothespins still dangling from her naked body.

       Breanne laughed.  “A little.  But it just wasn’t enough considering my tastes and interests.”  Breanne felt much more comfortable with Mr. Price after seeing his face during the dance.

       “Well grab your stuff and come back down to the table and we’ll talk and move onto the next part of the interview.”

       Bre moved off the stage and went down into the back hall where she had found the bucket of clothespin.  Carefully reaching between her legs, she removed the one that Price had clamped to her clit.  She gave a slight moan as it came free and she paused long enough to slip her g-string panties back over her hips.  Her dress slung over one arm, and both breasts still exposed and clamped, she exited out into the main hall and made her way to the table.

       Price’s eyebrows lifted when she sat down in the chair next to him.  “Now that’s certainly a distraction, Ms. Erikson.” 

       Breanne grinned and took a deep breath, letting her bosom rise and fall.

       Clearing his throat, Price looked away for a moment and then examined the papers in front of him.  “Okay, first I need to ask about your sexual orientation.”

       “I’m bi-sexual.”  Answered Breanne quickly.

       “Any preference?”  Price said while making a notation on his paper.

       “Not really, but I admit that men come with the necessary equipment.  Girls have to be more creative.”

       Price chuckled.  “Isn’t that the truth.  Okay, next question.  Can you give me a brief overview of your BDSM experience?”

       Breanne took a deep breath, once more making the clothespin on her nipple jiggle.  “Well I’ve had experience with humiliation, spanking, whipping, caning, waxing, ice play, food play, bondage, foot worship, objects, anal penetration, clamps obviously.”  She lifted her hands to her breasts and once more jiggled her clothespins, much to Price’s delight.  “Let’s see…I’ve done electrical play, Japanese rope bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial…um…that’s all I can think of off the top of my head.”

       Price was busy writing.  “That’s certainly a lot.  You seem quite experienced.  Now, were you a sub or a slave in any of your previous relationships?” 

       “I’ve been both.  A sub is just submissive but still has control to call things off.  A slave doesn’t have that right.”

       “You seem knowledgeable and experienced, Ms. Erikson.  I see from your blood test results that you had it taken two days ago and you’re clean.  Your dancing is superb and you seem effable and friendly.”  Price gave her a deep smile.  “If I could I’d like for us to execute a little role play as the final test for hiring.  I’ll be a guest of the ‘Lock’.  Make your approach, solicit me for a private dance, and then we will move to one of the back rooms where you will give one private dance.  Any questions or issues with that?”

       Breanne shook her head.  “Not in the least, though I would like a moment to get redressed.”

       Price chuckled.  “Certainly, though I must tell you that you look absolutely fetching in nothing but a g-string and clothespins.”

       Breanne stood up and moved toward one of the dark corners of the hall.  She thought she heard a vacuum cleaner on the top level above her, but she concentrated on preparing herself.  She removed the two clothespins first, hissing through her teeth as her nipples throbbed.  With quick motions, she rehooked her bra, wrapping it around and over her breasts.  Her dress was just as easy to get on, zipping quickly up the side, the spaghetti straps going over her shoulders.  She looked back toward Price, who was reading over the papers on the table.

       Her hips swaying, she walked back across the room toward her interviewer.  Her long nubile fingers touched him on the shoulder and she gave him her best smile.

       “Hi!  I’m Bre, can I keep you company?”  She asked, leaning over just a bit to let him have a look deep down her cleavage.

       “Oh.  I mean, yes.  Certainly.”  Price scooted himself away from the table and Breanne sat down in his lap, squirming just a little.  Price wrapped his left arm around her waist and placed his right hand on her bare thigh.

       Breanne cooed.  “Mmmmm…now this is comfortable.  Except for something hard that’s poking me on my bottom.”  She gave him a petulant look, her eyes naughty and sparkling.

       “Uh…Sorry about that.  But you are beautiful.”  Price responded.  Breanne smiled again, realizing that the man was having a hard time delineating between interview and wonderful experience.

       She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.  “Oh no…I like sitting on hard things.”  She licked his ear lobe a little.  “Want to play a little game?”  She asked, her voice sultry.

       “A game?”  Price asked, a little confused.  He had expected to be asked if he wanted a dance.

       “Yes a little game.  I like games.  The game I want to play is called Tell Me.  I ask you to tell me something, and if you do, then I get to touch you anywhere I want.  Then you get to ask me to tell you something and so on.”

       Price gave a little chuckle.  “Sounds fun.”

       Breanne grinned.  “Okay, tell me what part of my dance did you like the best?”

       “Oh, that’s easy!  The clothespins!”  Price answered.

       “I thought so.”  Breanne replied.  “Now I get to touch.”  She reached down to Price’s belt and pulled his polo shirt out of his pants.  Her hand reached under the cloth and she moved her hand up until her fingers grazed his chest, rubbing lightly one of his nipples.  Price gave a little moan and then gritted his teeth.

       “Okay…you need to tell me about the most interesting thing you’ve ever been fucked with.”

       Breanne gave a little giggle.  “A bottle of AquaBlue water, that had been frozen solid.”

       Price gave a little start.  “You’re kidding!  A frozen water bottle?” 

Breanne nodded.  “Yep, had that up inside me at the same time I was putting out two votive candles with my breasts.”

       “Oh my God, Breanne!  I can’t believe it!  Did you enjoy it?”  Price asked, totally shocked.

       Breanne smiled and nodded.  “You know, you get to touch me somewhere now.” 

       “Anywhere?”  Price asked.

       “Anywhere.”  She answered, spreading her legs slightly.

       Price’s right hand slid up her thigh, under the dress until his fingertips grazed the soft tiny triangle of gauze that covered her slit.  With a few gentle passes, he rubbed her clit through the cloth.

       “Oh no…Mr. Price.  You’re supposed to touch ME, not my clothing.”  Breanne whispered in his ear, once more tonguing him slightly.

       She felt his fingers push the g-string aside and run through the lips of her sex, tiny slivers of touch that made her shiver.

       “Mmmmm…that’s nice.  Now, tell me how long your cock is.” 

       Price was still focused on the wetness surrounding his fingers.  “Um…I’m not sure.”  He stuttered.

       Breanne lifted up a bit and slid farther down his lap, careful not to dislodge his hand.  She reached down and stroked the large bulge in Price’s lap.  “Hmmm…seems pretty long.”  She looked at him in the eyes.  “Care for a private dance, Mr. Price?”  She purred.

       Price nodded.  He pulled his hand away from her sex, noticing it was glistening.  Breanne noticed too and grabbed his hand, bringing his finger to her mouth and sucking on it lustily.

       Knowing she was unaware of the location of the private rooms, Price led the way to the back of the hall, where a small carpeted corridor held about twenty private stalls, each curtained off.  He walked to the first and pushed the curtain aside.  A heavy plush settee stood near one wall and he quickly approached it and seated himself.   

       Breanne took only a moment to survey the room.  It was only a few feet wide, carpeted to absorb sounds, with a single dimly lit overhead light that provided just enough illumination to see her body.  She flashed Price a smile, her eyes sparkling, and she began to undulate before him, twisting and swaying as her hands roamed her curves.

       But in moments she was slipping her black dress off, letting the material caress her legs on its fall to the floor.  She stepped out of the fallen material and moved up to Price, pressing her lace-covered breasts into his face, his nose in the deep cleavage between each soft mound.  His eyes were closed as he inhaled her fragrance and she took the opportunity to unclasp her bra, freeing her breasts.  Price sensed the change and opened his eyes only to find his face firmly implanted deep between Breanne’s luscious breasts.

       She smelled like a combination of fruit and flowers, and Price knew that her previous dancing career had come in handy.  He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her spine as she began to rub her breasts back and forth across his face, the hardened nipple somehow finding its way through Price’s lips on each pass.  Price couldn’t take it much longer, grabbing hold of her and sucking hard on her soft melon, her nipple taking the stabbing thrusts and slashes of his tongue.

       Breanne closed her eyes, trying to concentrate over the delicious sensations Price was causing.  Her fingers, which had been laced through Price’s hair, traveled down to her g-string panties and began pushing them down.  Price finally came up for a breath of air and she stepped back, letting him ogle as she once more bared her carefully shaved slit, glistening pink with arousal.

       She turned around and bent over, spreading her legs wide apart.  Price looked at her, marveling at the pink button of her anus and the gapping petals of her sex.  He started to reach out, wanting to touch, but she skillfully moved away, turning once more in a pirouette before suddenly seating herself down on his lap, grinding her bottom into the hard bulge she found there.

       “Mmmmm…I seem to be getting good reviews…”  she said, turning her head and twisting her body as he reached up to cup her breasts, his mouth planted on her shoulder.  “Would you care for another dance?”  Then Bre leaned close.  “We could turn up the heat…” she whispered.

       Price glanced down at his watch.  Startled, he noticed that Breanne had timed her first dance perfectly, even without music, ending it right at three and a half minutes.  He laughed softly and nodded.  “Absolutely.”

       Breanne pushed him backward against the side of settee, running her fingers over his chest and down to his crotch, caressing his cock through the cloth of his pants.  “Let’s negotiate Mr. Price.  I’m not cheap and we don’t usually turn the heat all the way up here in the private rooms.  You have to buy me at auction for that…but I’ll make you a special offer because I think you’re sexy. Want to hear it?”  She said, leaning over him, her breasts dangling before his eyes.  Price could only nod, his mouth once more straining to suckle the globes of beauty being dangled before him like a carrot.

       “Good boy.  I’ll turn the heat all the way up and you hire me.”  She whispered.  Price’s eyes got big but before he could say anything her nimble fingers were unbuckling his pants, his button coming loose, and then he heard the tell tale sound of his zipper coming down.

       He lifted up his hips as she pulled his pants down nearly to his ankles.  She turned away only for a moment, reaching for her purse, one hand dipping into the black satchel while the other hand stroked Price’s hard cock through the red boxer shorts he wore.  Suddenly his shaft was freed, rising up like a mighty sequoia, and she began to stroke him softly yet steadily.  With practiced ease, Breanne slipped the condom over his shaft, make the application seem like a particularly fine stroke.  Before Price could even notice, she had bent down and taken him in her mouth.

       More of a massage than a blow job, Breanne Erikson bobbed her head up and down on Price’s rod as the man moaned loudly.  His fingers had reached out to her, one hand sliding up and down her naked body, caressing her hips and thighs and then her breast, his other entwined in her hair, rubbing her head as she sucked on his manhood.  She stood up and looked at him again, planting a quick kiss on his lips before she straddled him, her wet and ready sex on his chest.

       “Ready to turn the heat up again, Mr. Price?”  She asked, her eyes flashing with excitement.   She reached behind her and gave his cock a quick squeeze.  Price gasped and nodded. “Oh god, yes.”  He replied.

       Breanne scooted downward until she felt his shaft underneath her, pressing against the soft petals of her sex.  It took only two slick slides of her body, the thick rod sliding up through the wet lips of her sex, before she was able to impale herself fully on Price.  He let out a stunning groan as she took him deeply, feeling his cock totally encased in her wet warmth.

       Breanne concentrated on pumping her hips as Price’s hands roamed her body, then tweaking her nipples.  She let out a tiny cry of excitement as his fingers pinched her and her rocking increased.  Price was no fool, and he recognized her reactions, his fingers twisting her nipples round causing her to buck like a wild horse.  With his left hand he reached around to her ass and swatted it sharply, a loud crack filling the room that was as quickly followed by Breanne’s cry of wanton lust.

       Price could tell she was close to orgasm, but the intensity in his own lust filled sex was too much and he arched his back, his muscles tightening as she rode him.  He felt the sudden burst and he gritted his teeth, shuddering, as his cock began to spurt the white cream of his pleasure.  He brought her down to him, holding her tightly as he came.

       Breanne’s pleasure ended quickly and she looked down on Price, seeing the look of satisfaction in his face.  Slowly, she lifted herself off Price and gave him a quick kiss.  With practiced ease, she pulled off the condom and dumped it in the small trash receptacle in the corner.

       Price sat up on the settee, his now flaccid cock slightly trembling, wanting to return to life as he gazed at her naked body.  Breanne gave him a smile as she picked up her bra and panties, quickly covering herself.  Her dress went on almost as quick as Price pulled up his boxers and pants.

       “Well, Ms. Erikson.   You certainly have demonstrated a capability tonight that far surpasses my expectations.”  Price said, still adjusting his clothing.

       “Thank you Mr. Price.”  Breanne said, once more beaming her smile at him.

       Price shook his head. “Please, call me William.”

       “All right, William.”

       Price took just a moment to collect himself, then took her arm, gently guiding her out of the back room and into the main hall near the stage. 

       “Please have a seat, Breanne.”  Price said, pulling a chair out for her.

       Breanne dropped down into the plush covered easy chair and looked at William Price as he sat, once more looking at the papers in front of him.  For a moment, she felt a sudden trepidation that she had gone to far in the back room, but then the look of satisfaction on his face made her realize that she had gotten the job.

       “Breanne, I think you will make a wonderful addition to the ‘Lock’, so I’d like to offer you conditional employment.”  Price smiled.

       “Conditional?”  Breanne asked, suddenly not so sure of herself.

       Price waved his hand in the air.  “As I told you at the beginning of your interview, ever forty or so minutes we auction off an entertainer for an hour.  This is a BDSM club, and despite your wonderful show with the clothespins, we never know just how a girl will handle a true BDSM experience.”

       “But I told you that…” began Bre only to be interrupted by Price.

       “Wait.  Let me explain.  On your first night, you will be allowed to dance on the main and back stage, and solicit private dances.  Once a few auctions have been completed, we will conduct an on-stage thirty to forty minute torture session for the main audience.  We will provide you with a safe word so that if at any moment you want it to stop, we can pull you out without embarrassment.”

       Breanne nodded.  “But if I do, then I’m not hired.” 

       “Right.  Of course, you would get to keep any money you had already earned that evening, but we would not want to put you or any of our guests in a situation where you were unwilling.  There are no safe words after you are bought at auction.”

       Breanne’s eyes opened wide. “None?”

       Price shook his head.  “None.  Prior to the auction we announce the limits the girl has set on her use.  We monitor the session to make sure that those limits are not violated, but anything within those limits can be done to the entertainer.  So you see how important it is to know how she handles a true bondage situation?”

       She thought about it for a moment.  “Actually, that seems very logical.  Any girl can come in here and do what I just did.  It takes something a little stronger to handle bondage and discipline.”

       Price laughed softly.  “Not to mention sadism and masochism.”

       Breanne smiled ruefully.  “True.”

       “In any event, I want to hire you.  From what you’ve told me, you should be able to handle anything.”

       “After the public torture session, would I be available to go up for auction?”  Asked Breanne.

       “Of course!  Every entertainer is required to go up for auction at least once during the event.  If you desire to go on the block more times during an evening, that is entirely up to you.  Some of our entertainers only go on the block once, to ensure they are always in high demand.  Some go from finishing their first auction session right back to the block.  Some girls feel that they make more money on private dances.  As long as you submit to your one auction an evening, everything works out.”

       “I see.”  Said Breanne.

       “Anyway, you’re hired if you still want the position.”  Price said, leaning back in his chair.

       Bre looked up at the stage for a moment, considering.  It was only four seconds before she turned back to Price.  “When do I start?”

       Price shrugged.  “Whenever you want.  Thursday evening is relatively slow.  We usually get only forty or so guests, and we do provide a variety of services here.  In fact, let me show you around and then you can decide when you want to start.”  He stood up.

       Breanne stood and followed as Price went to the stage door he had showed her earlier. 

       “Of course you know the stage stairs are back here, but if you keep going back through this doorway you come to the dressing rooms.”  Price said, opening another door.

       Together they walked into a well-lit dressing room.  Racks of clothing stood in the center of the room and mirrored vanities with makeup, wigs, and hair care items stood along the walls.  The room was huge.

       “This is where the entertainers get dressed.  We provide makeup, wigs, and costumes, since the occasional one gets torn or damaged.  The dress sizes are easy to see and you can pick out either a permanent look or switch as the mood takes you.”

       Breanne went to the clothes rack and saw a multitude of sexy fashion statements, from baby dolls to revealing evening dresses.  She almost laughed when she saw the little schoolgirl outfits. 

       “Yes, I’m sorry to say those are popular when they’re on a few of the entertainers.  You’re petite enough to wear those.”

       Bre laughed, lifting the little white blouse up under her chin and posing, fluttering her eyelashes.

       Price waved his hands in mock surrender.  “Oh stop stop!  I can’t handle getting hard again for you!”

       Breanne grinned and put the shirt back.  “Oh why not?  Getting hard is good for guys!”

       William Price chuckled.  “Then please save it for the clients.  I freely admit that I enjoy the perks of my position, but I’ve got to show you the club, and I still have to prep the show schedule for tonight.”

       Bre looked at him.  “Well you can put my name on it.”

       “Really?” 

       “Yep.  Nothing better than being stripped and tortured in front of forty guests.”  Breanne said flippantly as she followed Price out a second door.

       “These are the administrative offices back here.  Down that way is David Trottman’s office.  He’s the General Manager.   This is the Food Manager’s office, Bob Richardson.  And this is my office.”

       Breanne peeked into a lush office that was easily twenty by thirty feet, with dark mahogany panels on the walls.  The furniture would not have been out of place in a CEO’s office, and a lush, full sized couch and two easy chairs filled one corner of the room.  Breanne couldn’t help herself from wondering how many entertainers had laid and been laid on that couch.  A large window was centered in the wall behind the desk, a desk matching credenza under it.

       “Wow.”  Breanne said as she looked at the room.

       Price gave a grin.  “Well, there are good perks to some occupations.”

       Breanne raised an eyebrow, “Like getting to interview the entertainers?”

       “Absolutely.  Come on.  I’ll show you some of the other things we offer at the club.”

       Even the administrative hallways of the club were elegant with lots of indirect lighting, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the heavy carpeting.  Price turned a corner, pushing open another heavy door, and suddenly Breanne found herself back in the foyer entryway.

       “This of course is where our guests enter.  Through the main doors to our left is the main dining area and stages, where we had our interview.  This door in front of us leads to some of our other attractions, and is available to our guests.  And of course the door on your right is the entrance.”  Price held out his hand, motioning her forward as he held open the smaller side door leading from the foyer.

       Breanne found herself in another rich hallway, which was at least a foot wider than the administrative hall on the other side of the building.  Obviously meant for guests, this hall had illuminated artwork and mirrors every few feet, which gave Breanne the impression of an art museum.  They stopped at a heavy wooden door, bearing a golden lettered sign that said “Arena”.

       Price nodded.  “One of the other attractions.”  He said as he opened the door.

       Breanne stepped into the arena room and gave a startled exclamation.  The room was circular with the very center of the room a large padded wrestling ring.  It was circular and deep set, with large rubber sides that rose a full foot into the air. A brace of floodlights encircled the ceiling and three levels of dining tables circled the ring like wagons.  Each table was set just as the main dining tables were; white tablecloth, red napkins, rolled utensils, and a small candle.

       Breanne looked at Price inquisitively.  “You have wrestling matches in here?”

       Price nodded.  “Occasionally.  We like to schedule them at least once a month during football season and twice a month the rest of the year.”

       “Is it like television wrestling?”  Breanne asked, walking up to the heavy padded ring.

       “Oh no.  First of all, the wrestlers are specially trained entertainers, who of course wrestle sans clothing.  Second, the ring is filled with baby oil usually, which provides an interesting complication for the wrestlers.  And lastly you don’t win by pinning the other wrestler down.” 

       “What do you mean?”  Asked Breanne.

       Price stepped over to a small locker next to the ring that Breanne hadn’t noticed.  He opened it up and pulled out a black silk bag that bulged oddly.  Opening the bag, he pulled out an odd shaped glove with a huge ridged phallus on the end.

       “Each wrestler wears one of these and the object is to insert it into the other wrestler.”  Price said, a look of polite distaste on his face.

       “Oh my God!”  Breanne exclaimed, her eyes wide in astonishment.

       Price shrugged.  “Some of our guests like to see women who fight.  We carefully select our wrestlers from the entertainers who volunteer.”  Price put the phallic glove back in the bag.  “We’ve never had anyone hurt and the gambling on the winners earns some extra revenue.  Besides, there is something sexy about a girl covered in baby oil.”

       Breanne bit her lip and nodded, unsure what to say.

       Price laughed and headed toward the door, motioning her along.  “I’ve never been a big fan of the wrestling matches.  Come on, lots more to show you.”

       “So, we have the Arena here, and the next door down the hall is our massage center.  We keep six masseuses on hand, four a night.  Massage costs two hundred flat out plus an optional tip.”

       Breanne looked at Price with disbelief across her face.  “Two hundred dollars for a massage?”

       Price raised a finger.  “Ah ah…an oriental sex massage.  The masseuse uses her entire body and the price includes sex for the client.”

       Breanne looked confused.  “I don’t get it, Mr. Price.  Why provide cheap sex back here when you’re trying to get the guest’s money during the auctions?”

“You need to understand, Ms. Erikson that our guests have more money than they know what to do with.  The money is remuneration for services rendered.  We provide a safe, quiet atmosphere in which to indulge their desires.  The masseuses earn a great deal of money since they give quality massages, but they’re not willing to be bought and sold on the block.  That’s their choice.  Frankly, it’s too vanilla for most of our guests.”  He sighed.

“Our clients have special desires and special requests come with that.  When a guest asks for something special, we make an effort to meet those requirements.”  He gave her a wan smile as if remembering.

“Once we had a guest who was turned on by being able to eat his dinner off the body of a girl.  We explained that dinner would take an hour to serve and eat, and that it would run approximately two thousand dollars.  We found one of our entertainers who didn’t mind being strapped down on a large platter in an uncomfortable position, filled to the brim with various food stuffs, fruits, and such, and then used as a plate for forty minutes.  We’d bring her back to the kitchen, rinse her off, and she would be out on the dance floor in ten minutes, fifteen hundred richer.”  Price sighed and shook his head.  “I’m not a fan of some of the things our clients want, but as long as there is nothing illegal about it, no one gets hurt, and there is someone willing to satisfy their desire, then we provide it.”

Breanne nodded.  “Have you ever told a client no?”  She asked.

Price nodded.  “A couple of times we’ve been forced too.  Mostly it has been weirdoes who wanted something illegal on a federal level or things that even management found too disgusting to contemplate.  You’d be surprised at the depths of human depravity.”  He snorted.

Breanne bit her lip once and then looked away.  “Well, it’s been a fascinating afternoon, but if I’m going to start at five tonight, I need to go get cleaned up.”

Price looked up startled.  “Oh!  God, I’m sorry.  How inconsiderate of me.  There are showers off to the side of the dressing room.  Oh, and there is a rule, no sexual activity in the administrative wing, especially between entertainers.”  He turned and began leading Breanne back to the foyer.

Breanne followed, chuckling.  “Have a problem with girl on girl love?”  She asked, swinging the strap of her purse over one bare shoulder.

Price shrugged as they stepped back into the foyer.  “It’s a good house policy.  Girl on girl is nice under the spotlight, but backstage it just makes for a mess, emotional and physical.  Remember this is business, and you’ll be fine.”  Price rose from his chair glancing at his watch.  “I have approximately an hour and a half to get schedules written and posted, so if you will excuse me, Ms. Erikson, I will allow you to go freshen up.”

Breanne watched as William Price walked away, his sure and confidant steps taking him back out the main entry doors.  For a moment Breanne just stood there, noticing the new hustle and bustle as the sounds of the cooking staff from the kitchen seeped into the room.  Breanne turned and looked at the stage, imagining herself upon it, the room filled with men.  It was time to get cleaned up.

Chapter 2 The Cart

       “Wow.  Billy said he hired a new girl, but he never said she was a looker!” 

       Breanne turned at the sudden voice and peered through the steam.  Hot water cascaded over her body, rinsing the suds from her breasts and legs in little rivulets.  Another woman had entered the shower, moving over to one of the five free nozzles.  Her dark brown skin was like chocolate and her hair was tight and curly, spiraling down like tight springs.

       “Uh hi.  I’m Breanne.”  Bre said as the woman turned on the water, letting a cascade of droplets spatter her bare breasts.

       “That’s pretty.  I’m Sáde.” The woman said, pronouncing the name like “shaw-day.”  She dropped a small bucket of bath items on the tile and turned to give Breanne a smile.

       “So what’cha in to?”  Sade asked, lifting out a bottle of very expensive body wash and pouring out a tiny amount into her dark hand.

       Breanne looked at her in confusion.  “What I’m in to?”  she repeated.

       “Yeah, girls?  Guys?  Both?” Sade gave her an expectant glance.

       “Oh.  I’m bi.”  Breanne said, turning once more toward her showerhead.  The small sample bottles of shampoo and body wash she had plucked from a basket at the shower door tumbling around her feet. 

       “Oh honey.  You’re not using that crap that Billy leaves around are you?”  Sade’s thick musky voice said and Breanne turned to find Sade standing inches away, her skin glowing.

       Breanne’s eyes widened and she blushed scarlet as Sade’s white teeth flashed.  But then the smile faltered.  “What’s the matter?  You don’t do black girls?”  Sade asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

       “Oh no!  Not at all!  I’m sorry if it seemed like that, it’s just…your skin is beautiful and I’m only using the stuff I found in the dressing room to freshen up and…”  Breanne stammered.  Sade’s face immediately softened and the stunning woman wrapped both arms around Breanne.

       “Whoa, honey.  It’s okay. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”  Sade stepped back over to her shower bucket and extracted her body wash.  “Here, sweetheart.  Let me give you a hand.”  In just seconds Sade had poured a liberal amount of the sweet smelling liquid on her fingers and began rubbing it onto Breanne’s back.

       For a moment, Breanne tensed.  She was certainly no stranger to female/female experiences, but the image of William Price cautioning her against casual sex in the administrative areas came urgently to mind.  She turned and looked at Sade over her shoulder and could sense the sexual energy in the tall black girl.

       “Relax, honey.  I don’t bite.  Well, at least not much.”  She said.  Breanne let out a tiny giggle and then relaxed as Sade rubbed her back.  Breanne raised her arms and leaned against the wall, letting the falling water combine with Sade’s massage, rinse the stress away.  Breanne closed her eyes, sighing softly.

       And then Sade’s fingers moved around to cup Breanne’s breasts, the long delicate fingers encircling the nipples with tight arcs.  Breanne felt herself tingling, a sudden desire flooding through her body, and she let out a tiny cry as Sade pressed herself up against the creamy skinned red head.

       “Mmmm, you are delectable, Bre.  I may just want to have a dance with you onstage tonight…if you survive your initiation.”  Sade said, giving each of Breanne’s nipples a hard squeeze and then letting go.  Sade stepped backward to her own showerhead and began washing herself as Breanne leaned against the wall, eyes closed, dealing with the arousal Sade had caused.

        “Sade Elliot, have you already harassed the new girl?”  Demanded a new voice.  Breanne opened her eyes to see a totally nude blonde girl standing at the door of the showers, tiny fists planted on her hips.  Her large eyes were bright blue and her hair was cut short, framing her face in a delightful curtain of silky cream.  Her skin was just as fine as Breanne’s, but lacked the peppering of freckles.

       Breanne watched as Sade gave an exaggerated sigh.  “Now listen, Melanie.  I’ve barely introduced myself to little miss Breanne here. I loaned her some of my body wash.”  Sade gave Breanne a little smile and a wink.

       Melanie stormed into the bathroom like a tidal wave, tiny, domineering, and a little intimidating.  The blond stepped right up to Breanne.

       “Now Breanne, I know this is your first day and all, but Sade is a bit voracious, so watch out.”  She took a deep breath and Breanne got the impression that Melanie spent a lot of time talking.

       “William asked me to kind of take care of you while everything starts, so you will be with me until after your test.  That works out well because I have to run the cart tonight and we won’t be dancing until a little later, and maybe have a couple scores before your test.  Anyway, I’m really glad to meet you, I’m Melanie Cook.”  The little blonde finally stopped to take a breath.

       Breanne gave a tiny laugh.  “Breanne Erikson.”

       “Great.  Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let me take a quick shower and then we can get you into your costume.  It’s already laid out.”  Melanie stepped up to the showerhead next to Breanne and quickly spun the faucets, turning on a gushing stream of hot water.  Breanne glanced back at Sade who was now studiously ignoring her.

       “Um…I thought I got to pick out my own outfit.”  Breanne asked.

       Melanie flashed a smile at the redheaded girl.  “Sorry.  New girls wear a special ‘little schoolgirl’ outfit until after their test.  Almost all our guests know a newbie that way, and it will avoid awkward situations until after your test.  You can’t be requested.”

       “Requested?”  Breanne asked in confusion as she rinsed her hair.

       Melanie quickly lathered up.  “Yeah, William will adjust the auction schedule if there are two or more auction requests.  As a new girl, you will be a hot commodity on the market for awhile.”  She paused momentarily.  “At least until everyone samples you or word gets around about your dislikes and likes.  Anyway, from what Will said, my guess is that you’ll be tested at around six or so.”

       Breanne turned off her spigot and reached for one of the towels, wrapping it around her body.  She couldn’t help noticing Sade watching her with a hungry look, and Breanne flashed the stunning dark skinned beauty a smile.

       Melanie saw that Breanne was finished and quickly rinsed off, grabbing a towel and following Bre out of the shower.  Back in the dressing room a multitude of girls were in various stages of undress, makeup, and costuming and Melanie led Breanne to one of the vanity seats.  A set of clothes hangers with a bright white blouse, a blue plaid skirt, and a matching set of panties and bra, hung from a small hook to the side of the mirror.

       “Your attire for the evening, Ms. Erikson.”  Melanie said, a hint of sadistic humor in her voice.

       Breanne spent only a minute or so pulling on the panties and bra, finding them a snug but perfect fit.  The white blouse was sheer and partially see-through, but Breanne buttoned it up to her chin.  The blue plaid skirt was short, coming down to the top of the thigh, highlighting the thigh high white stockings she was wearing along with the black low heel pumps.

       “I look stupid.”  Announced Breanne as she looked into the mirror.

       Suddenly Sade was there, her large hands gripping Breanne by the shoulders.  “Honey, everyone of us wore that outfit and made our visit to the principal’s office.  You look fine.  Besides, the moment you’re done, you get to come right back here and pick out the nicest dress you can find.”

       “Really?  Breanne asked, still staring at herself in the mirror.

       “Really.”  Sade said softly, surprisingly gentle.  Her large curves were cupped in a stunning deep purple dress with a long slit in the side.  The matching undergarments seemed to peek out at every opportunity and Breanne felt a momentary surge of jealousy.

       Breanne resigned herself  “All right, if it’s a tradition, I suppose I can deal with anything.”

       Melanie laughed.  “Besides Bre, a lot of the guests prefer the little girl look if you can make it work.”

       Sade nodded, “Sick bastards.”  Both Melanie and Breanne laughed.

       

       Melanie spent the next half hour introducing Breanne to a large number of faces, which quickly blurred.  Except for a few whose behavior or outfits were so outrageous, the twenty or so girls working that evening were lost in a haze of short-term memory.  Melanie was not only well-liked and connected, she gave Breanne brief backgrounds on each girl, their likes and dislikes, who was straight, and who was bi-sexual, after each meeting.  Breanne felt as if she were in a whirlwind, and if not for Melanie’s understanding laughter and remark about getting used to it, Breanne might have given up right then.

       William Price had appeared several times, moving quickly through the ranks of half dressed females, making comments, providing encouragement, and making sure the girls had cheched the schedule of dances and auctions.  Melanie had taken Breanne up to the monitor and pointed out where her test was placed, as well as the order of dances and auctions.

       Melanie grabbed Breanne’s arm as the hall lights dimmed, the little flicker of candlelights attracting the attention of the eye.  Bright colored spotlights blinked on, illuminating both the main stage as well as the back stage in brilliant rainbows.  Suddenly the room was full of music.  Breanne watched as a number of attractive women in revealing outfits made their way from the kitchen to take stations near the bar, ready for the first wave of hungry and needy guests.

       “The moment we have a guest, the dance list starts up.  Neither of us are on the dance schedule early, so we’ll have time to run the cart.”

       Breanne looked inquisitive.  “What’s this cart you keep talking about?”  Breanne asked.

       Melanie laughed.  “Let’s just say that you don’t want to be late for your shift.  Come on.  Let’s see who William’s got in his office.”  Melanie took Breanne’s hand and they quickly went down the administrative hall to William’s office.  A loud pleading voice could be heard from several meters away.

       “Please?  Oh come on William, I swear there was a traffic accident!”  came a high-pitched voice, pleading desperately.  “I swear it will never happen again!”

       Melanie paused with a surprised look on her face.  “Wow!” She whispered to Breanne.  “It’s Ashley!  Normally Jessica is the late girl. I think she gets her kicks off of being on the cart.” 

       Together, Breanne and Melanie entered William’s office.  Ashley was still dressed in street clothes, red halter top over a white tee shirt, gym shorts, and flip-flops.  Her hair was nicely done, and Breanne could tell that with Ashley’s blond hair and a nice dress, she would be a stunningly beautiful girl.

       William looked up as the two girls entered.  “Ah.  Hi Melanie, and hello Ms. Erikson.  I hope you’ve been well taken care of?”

       Breanne nodded with a submissive smile.  “Yes, sir.”  Melanie rolled her eyes once and then looked at Ashley expectantly. 

       “Time for the cart?”  Melanie asked sweetly.

       Ashley let out an exasperated sigh, tossing her head with an irritated look.

       William held out his hands and gave a smug grin.  “You know the rules, Ashley.”

       “Fine. Whatever.  Let’s go.”  She said with resignation to Melanie.

       Breanne watched as Ashley stormed out of the office, turning down the corridor toward the main doors, followed by Melanie.  She quickly followed the other two girls.  Ashley paused before reaching the entrance foyer, opening a door and storming through it.  Melanie hurried up to the door and motioned Breanne to follow.

       When she reached the room, Breanne immediately noticed a second door on the other side.  Trying to get her bearings, Breanne figured that it led back into the main hall, somewhere near the back stage.  She glanced around the room, ignoring Ashley’s rapid and angry removal of her street clothes.  Melanie was in the corner of the room, pulling out a large four-wheeled cart.

       Breanne moved over to Melanie and examined the cart.  Like the front of a steam engine, one side of the cart was sloped at an extreme sixty degree angle.  Two handles, like those on a wheel chair, stuck out from the back, making the silly thing look like a one half of a house roof.  Two strange padded boards were connected at the bottom on each side of the cart and Breanne could see an embedded strap of leather at the ends of both boards. 

       Ashley had opened a cupboard and pulled out two sets of leather padded cuffs and was quietly buckling them on each wrist and ankle, her flagrant nudity obvious.  Breanne could see that she also shaved, except for a tiny line of pubic hair, light and soft, that trailed down to her slit.  Finished, Ashley moved over to the cart and moved in front of it, turning her back to the cart.  Breanne watched intrigued as Ashley backed herself onto the slope, lifting one leg at a time,  and then knelt on the padded supports.  Ashley leaned backward against the slope as Melanie strapped each ankle on to the boards.

       “I’m really confused here.”  Breanne said, still not understanding.

       Ashley looked up at her.  “What?  Oh.  Who are you?  Are you new?” 

       Breanne nodded.  “Yeah.  Breanne Erikson.”  She held out her hand.

       Ashley took it, careful not to lose her balance.  “Ashley Villereal.  Sorry I haven’t been more friendly, but I’m not happy to be in this thing.  I’m rarely late.”  Melanie reached over and took hold of both Ashley’s arms and pulled them backward, strapping them to the sides of the cart.  The bound girl’s body was now splayed and pulled taut, her breasts hanging at the perfect height and her legs obscenely spread to each side of the cart.

       “So what is this thing?”  Asked Bre.

       Ashley sighed, finally resigned to her predicament.  “Well, it’s the ‘Lock’s’ policy that we have to be here at least forty minutes before our shift starts.  So if you are on the late shift or the weekday shift, its four twenty for the five o’clock shift.  If you’re late, but get here before opening, you just get your name bumped to the bottom of the auction list, and since auctions are where the real money is, there is good incentive to be here on time.”  Ashley frowned.  “If you arrive after the doors open, not only do you get bumped, then you also get to ride the clothespin cart.”

       “Clothespin Cart?”  Breanne repeated.  Melanie reached into a panel at the back of the cart and lifted out a metal bucket, rattling it.

       “Clothespins!  Ten bucks a pop.”  Melanie announced.

       “Oh my God!”  Breanne said, her eyes widening as she realized what was going on.

       Ashley nodded.  “Yep, the guests can buy a clothespin, or any number of clothespins for ten dollars each.  They then get to apply them.  The bad part though is that they can apply them anywhere they want.  My tongue, my nipples, my clit, anywhere.  And worse still is that if there is already a clip on a part they would have wanted to put one on, they can remove it and then put their own clip plus the one they removed on me.”

       Breanne had to think for a moment.  “So if I buy two clothespins and put them on your breasts, and the next person buys three, he can take my two off and have five to put on you?”

       Ashley nodded.

       “Ouch.”

       Melanie rolled her eyes.  “She does get to have the money though.  All of it.”

       Ashley gave Melanie a dirty look.  “”Yeah like that pays for the wonderful time.”

       “How much does it earn?”  Breanne asked, still curious, and slightly less shocked.

       Ashley answered.  “Maybe if I’m lucky two hundred.”

       “Give me a break, Ash.  You’re on it for thirty minutes.  Cry me a fricken river.”  Melanie said.  She pushed the cart forward to the entry door of the hall.  “Time to go see who’s here.”

       Breanne quickly moved forward and opened the door, much to Melanie’s appreciation.  Together, the three girls, two on their feet and one splayed as punishment, entered the dining hall.  Already a third of the tables were filled with guests, several with multiple men, who were ordering with gusto.  Two dancers had started gyrating on the dance floors.

       Melanie nudged Breanne “Two songs on the main stage and then off to the small one for two more.  Most of the guys that are interested in you will come up to you on the small one for a little invite.  Remember them so you can see if they want a private dance, or to bid on you during the auction.”

       Breanne smiled.  “Melanie, I’ve danced before.”

       Melanie eyes widened.  “Oh.  Gosh, I’m sorry. I got the impression you’ve never done this before.”

       Breanne shook her head.  Melanie gave her an apologetic smile and then grinned, pushing the bound and waiting Ashley forward to the first table.

       Two men were chatting as they sipped their drinks when the girls approached.  Melanie was the first to speak, holding up her bucket of pegs.

       “Clothespins, gentlemen?  Just ten dollars a pin.”  She announced.

       The two men turned to look at Ashley, who lay against the cart still tightly bound, her breasts moving in rhythm to her breathing.

       “Sure, I’ll take two.”  Announced one of the guys, fishing in his pocket for a twenty.  Melanie gave him a winsome smile. 

       “Just two, sir?  There are more spots than that for them to go.”  She rattled the bucket again for effect.

       He laughed.  “Okay, good point.  Four please.”  He handed over two twenty-dollar bills, exchanging them for four clothespins.  He looked over Ashley’s body and then winked.  “And where would you like these too go, sweetheart?”  He asked.

       For a moment Breanne expected Ashley’s demeanor to echo the one she had in the cart room but was surprised at her demure and submissive tone.

       “Where ever you would like to put them, Sir.  I’m being punished for being late.”  Ashley said softly.

       “Ahhh.  A punishment.  Then I suppose these need to go where they will do the most good.”  He lifted the first clothespin and let it close tightly on Ashley’s left nipple, crushing the delicate nub.  Ashley gasped, tensing as the sensation of the bite raced through her.  She pulled taut against her bindings, but only managed to make herself look even sexier.  The man quickly placed another clothespin to her right breast, giving her a matching set.

       “And I think your little clit could use one.  I can see you’re wet already.”  The man said, reaching down and spreading the already splayed lips of Ashley’s sex.  For a moment Ashley closed her eyes, only to let out a tiny cry of pain as the clothespin closed on the most tender of parts.

       “Mike?  You want to put this last one on?”  The man said, handing his last clothespin to his companion.

       Mike moved forward toward Ashley and deftly removed one of the clothespins from the bound girl’s bosom, letting the new clothespin clamp down tightly.  Ashley groaned and the sudden rush of blood, and then the repeated sensation of another clamp.  The final clamp was placed on one of the swollen lips of Ashley’s sex.

       Melanie leaned forward, looking over the men’s clothes pinning job.  “Very nice gentlemen.  I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

       The two men laughed, their eyes only beginning to peel from Ashley’s tormented body.  Mike looked at Breanne, obviously admiring the schoolgirl looks.

       “Well I’m sure we will, but I wish this pretty red head had been on the cart.”  Mike said.  “I would have bought a hundred clothespins.”

       Melanie laughed as Breanne blushed.  “For that price you could have a shot at buying Bre at auction.  But keep your eyes open, Sir.  She hasn’t been to the principal’s office yet.”  Melanie grinned and began pushing the cart on to the next table.

       Breanne followed obediently as she and Melanie took Ashley around the room.  Almost every table bought clothespins and soon Ashley looked like a bizarre work of art, her nipples, clit, and sex red and swollen from repeated clamping and unclamping.  Finally the thirty minutes were up and they took the cart back to the small room at the back of the dining hall.  The moment they got in Ashley was in tears.

       “Oh please, please, please, get them off!”  She cried, tears pouring down her face.  Breanne was taken aback at how fast Melanie moved, quickly shifting around and gently but rapidly squeezing each clothespin open and dropping it into the bucket.  Breanne followed suit after Melanie had removed the pegs from Ashley’s breasts and sex, taking off the row of pegs pinching Ashley’s sides.

       “Damn that hurts.”  Ashley said, her skin red and inflamed as the last clothespin clattered in the bucket.

       “Bre?  Can you undo the straps?  I want to get some lotion to rub her down with.”

       Breanne nodded to Melanie and quickly bent over the cart, releasing Ashley’s wrists.  Ashley immediately cupped her tender breasts, massaging them gently as Breanne unbuckled the ankle straps.

       Melanie stepped back to the cart and held out a bottle of lotion to Breanne. Holding out her hands, Melanie reached out and let Ashley pull herself off the cart, getting her legs under herself.  Helping Ashley to a side chair, Melanie sat Ashley down.

       “You did really good you know.  You earned three twenty.”  Melanie said as she reached for the lotion.

       “Thirty two pegs?  Really? Wow.”  Ashley said, sounding tired.  She winced slightly as Melanie began rubbing the lotion into her legs.  Breanne snagged the bottle and poured a little into her palm and began with Ashley’s right arm, figuring out what Melanie was doing.

       Ashley sighed.  “Well, if nothing else, I’m three hundred dollars richer, and I’ve learned my lesson about leaving home early.”

       Melanie laughed.  “Hey.  It can happen to any of us.”

       Ashley chuckled lightly.  “Well, I’m glad that it’s usually Jessica who gets to ride the cart, and not me.  She can have it.”

       “Are you ready to get all dressed up?  You can still hit the floor and see if you can get some private dances going.”

       Ashley stood up and shook her head.  “I’m going to go soak in the hot tub for awhile.  I doubt any guests will be out at the pool yet, so I’ll give my body a chance to recover.  I’m not as resilient as you or Jessica.”  Ashley began putting on her street clothes as Melanie put away the lotion and repositioned the cart next to the wall.

       “Okay, well we’re going to head out to the floor before we’re up on the schedule.”  Melanie replied.  Ashley nodded and then stepped up to Breanne.

       “Sorry I haven’t been more friendly.  I hope you have a good time.  I’ll see you later, okay?”  Ashley held out a hand to Breanne.

       Breanne took it, her face beaming.  “Yeah, thanks.  I really do understand.”

       Ashley nodded and the quickly left, exiting back into the administrative hall.

       Melanie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Breanne.  “So what do you think of the clothespin cart?”  She asked, her face inquisitive.

       Breanne leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.  “Well, I haven’t exactly experienced it fully, but…” she paused collecting her thoughts.  “I just might try being deliberately late someday.”

       Melanie laughed.  “I thought so.  I can usually tell about a girl.  Ashley is into being tied, all ropes and cuffs and being bent like a pretzel.  You seem more hardcore than she is.”  Breanne blushed.  Melanie laughed and then moved forward again.  “Come on.  We’ve got about forty minutes before William is ready for us.  We can go see if there are any marks out there.”  Then she paused for just a moment, looking at Breanne.  “Should I bring a clothespin?”

       Breanne smiled sheepishly.  “Bring three.”

Chapter 3:  The First Catch

       When Breanne and Melanie hit the floor, the room was almost half full.  Most tables held a few men, some only a solitary gentleman.  The clinking sound of utensils striking dinner plates was almost universal in the room as the age-old necessity of survival came into play, placing supper on a more immediate tier than sex in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.  Not all of the girls that Breanne had seen in the dressing room were on the floor, but the ones that were were each sitting at a table, doing their best to entertain and persuade their targets that a private dance or a later auctioned session was the best idea.  Breanne glanced up at the stage, watching as another red haired girl gyrated her naked body back and forth across the stage.  Every once in a while, one of the guests would approach the stage with a dollar in their hand, earning themselves an up-close look, a personal word, and the opportunity to lay a hand on soft flesh.

       Melanie grabbed Breanne’s arm and pulled her toward one of the tables and Bre noticed that Melanie had made a bee line for the very first men they had rolled the clothespin cart up to. 

       “Hi gentlemen, is it all business or are you here for pleasure too?”  Melanie asked sweetly, interrupting an animated conversation between the two men.  She bent over slightly at the waist, letting both guys look directly down the ample cleavage she sported.

       Breanne stepped up next to Melanie and gave a smile to Mike, the man who had wanted her on the clothespin cart.

       “On the contrary, my dear lady, Mike and I are here explicitly for the pleasure aspects.”  The first man said, scooting his chair back from the table enough to allow Melanie to sit in his lap.

       Melanie dropped down, wrapping an arm around his neck.  Breanne didn’t hesitate as she zeroed in on Michael, lowering herself gently into his lap and feeling his warm hand on her thigh.

       “I’m Melanie and this is Breanne.” 

       “That’s Mike and I’m Jeff.” Said the man, letting his hand roam over Melanie’s thigh, feeling the silky texture of her skin.  Melanie smiled.

       “I haven’t seen you or Mr. Mike around here before, Mr. Jeff.”  Melanie said, her voice carrying slightly over the music. 

       Jeff nodded.  “I’m a member and Mike is my guest.  But it’s been almost a year since I’ve been here.”

       Melanie grinned.  “Did you win an auction last time you were here?”

       Jeff’s eyes widened.  “Oh yes.  And damn it almost killed me.  Won a black girl named Sade.”

       Breanne put her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles.  “She’s still here, and just as feisty I think.”  Breanne said, relaxing slightly.

       Melanie turned and looked at Michael.  “So are you going to bid tonight?”  She asked pointedly.

       Michael gave a sheepish smile.  “Well from what I understand of the process, I probably will.  Jeff said that I can expense tonight’s entertainment.”  He grinned and gave a deep chuckle.  “But I guess it will depend on what girl is up on the block.”  He turned and looked at Breanne.

       Breanne turned beat red for a moment and then looked down at her lap.

       “Well Bre here will be going up on the block, eventually.  She has to go to the principal’s office first, but you never know what may happen after that.”

       “The principal’s office?”  Michael asked. 

       Melanie nodded.  “Just a little public detention and humiliation on the main stage for our dear little schoolgirl here.”

       Michael grinned.  “Mmmmm, I can’t wait.”

       Breanne, still scarlet, felt Michael’s hand slide up her thigh, under her skirt all the way to her panty line.  Melanie, who already felt Jeff’s fingers stroking at the small cloth of her g-string didn’t miss a beat.

       “Want to try her out now?”  She asked Michael.  “She’ll take you in the back for a private dance.  Or two.”  She turned and looked at Jeff.  “And how about you?  Ready to do a little more than just knock at the door?”

       Jeff laughed.  “Come on Mike, let’s take a sip of these wines before we have to decide to buy the bottle!”

       Mike chuckled.  “You go ahead, Jeff.”

       “Uh oh…he needs encouragement, Bre.”  Melanie stated.

       Breanne looked at Mike.  “Do you need some encouragement, Mr. Mike?”  Bre asked, her face taking on a sultry look.  “You said earlier you liked my body.”  Breanne reached up and began unbuttoning her white schoolgirl blouse, letting the white cloth part enough to expose the white lace bra. 

       “I do like your body.”

       “I like being naughty.”  Breanne said.  Her hands reached up to her bra and carefully lifted each white pale breast out of the lace, exposing the nipples.

       “Ohhh, I think you need these, Mr. Mike.”  Came Melanie’s voice.

       Both Breanne and Michael turned to look.  Melanie was holding three clothespins.  Mike laughed.

       “And how much will these cost me?”  He asked.  Breanne spoke quickly.

       “Put them on me right here and now and then let’s go for a private dance.”  She said, her voice steady and sure.

       “Do it, Mike.  Clip her.  I like seeing little schoolgirls get what’s coming to them!”  Jeff said.

       Michael grinned and took the three clothespins.  Breanne’s breasts were not as exposed as Ashley’s had been, still half encased in the lace of Breanne’s bra, but each nipple stood out hard and clear, inviting targets.  Michael didn’t hesitate, lifting his hand and letting the first clothespin down on Breanne’s nipple.  Breanne sucked in her breath, biting her lip as Michael took a moment to flick the wooden clamp up and down.  The second clothespin went on to match the first, two obscene wooden stakes erupting out of a sea of white lace, cotton, and rosy rounded flesh.

       “What about this one?”  Michael said, holding up the third clothespin.

       Melanie’s eyebrow rose.  “Yeah, Breanne.  Where does that one go?”

       Already Breanne’s chest was heaving, the heavy pinching of the clothespin exciting her.  Slowly, she spread her legs wide, pulling up the blue and white plaid skirt.  In moments, the white g-string panties were exposed.  Reaching down, she ran a finger under the small triangle of cloth and pulled it aside, exposing a wet glistening slit, and a partially exposed clit.  Jeff’s eyes were glued to Breanne’s parted legs, his own finger still wiggling under the fancy dress Melanie wore.  Breanne tilted her head back, closing her eyes as Michael brought the last clothespin up between her outstretched legs.

       She let out a soft-throated cry, a longing painful rush that seemed filled with need.  She quivered and the three spectators watched as the red haired girl trembled, her face flushed, and the exposed slit of her lust moist and wanting. 

       “I think I want that dance now.”  Michael said, patting Breanne’s knee, rousing her.

       Jeff nodded.  “I want one too.”  He looked at Michael.  “Mike, just have Breanne charge it to our table, okay?”  He turned back to Melanie.  “Come on, sweetheart.  I want to have a sample of that wine!”   Jeff pushed Melanie up and the two of them made their way to the back of the hall.

       “You ready?  Can you walk with those on?”  Michael inquired.  Breanne nodded.

       “Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder what the other girls will think.  It’s my first night and already I’m a spectacle.”  Breanne said, her face still blushing.

       Michael laughed.  “Breanne, you are totally beautiful and desirable.  I want that private dance.”  He lifted her to her feet, setting her down gently on her low-heeled pumps.  “Besides, I like little naughty schoolgirls who are prim and proper in public and down right dirty in private.”  He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the private rooms.

       Twenty minutes later Breanne emerged from the small private room.  Her clothes were slightly disheveled, as if she had hurriedly redressed herself without the benefit of a mirror.  Michael had returned to his dining table, satisfied, and extremely happy with himself.

       “So how did you make out?”  Melanie asked, touching Breanne on the shoulder.  Breanne turned.

       “Three hundred.  You?”  Breanne asked.

       Melanie shook her head.  “Jeff knew enough not to want sex this early in the evening.  He only wanted three lap dances with lots of heavy petting.”  She shook her head.  “Sixty to your three hundred.”  She sighed.  “Come on, I’ll show you how to charge their table.  Then we have to go to the back room.”

       Breanne followed Melanie past tables filled with guests and along the edge of the main stage.  To Breanne’s surprise, Sade was in the process of slowly removing her bra, exposing the dark circles of her areola to the interested crowd.  She gave Breanne a huge smile and then motioned with her hand for Breanne to come up to the edge of the stage.  Melanie rolled her eyes and nodded at Breanne, who quickly went up.

       Sade sat down on the stage, her legs spread wide apart as Breanne leaned in close.  “You are such a sweet piece of honey, Bre.  Give me a kiss and let these guys get a little jealous that you’re getting some of me, instead of them!”  Sade said, her voice bright.

       Breanne laughed and planted her lips on Sade’s thigh, giving tiny little licks up the chocolate colored flesh.  Sade smelled like a combination of coffee and cinnamon and Breanne nuzzled her right to the cloth-covered sex.  Sade grinned and lifted her body off the stage, an inverted arch.

       “Take it off with your teeth, sweety.”  Sade ordered.  Breanne didn’t even pause, her tongue and teeth snagging the tiny triangle of silk and dragging it downward over Sade’s legs.  There was a mild burst of applause and both girls felt a flutter of bills landing on the stage around them.  Sade twisted again, somehow ending in a kneeling position, her breasts pressed up against Breanne’s face.  The black girl reached out and held Breanne to her bosom, whispering.

       “Thanks, Bre.  I’ll make it up to you during your test.”

       Suddenly Breanne was released and Sade was rising, pirouetting across the stage to titillate another guest.  Melanie shook her head as Breanne rejoined her.

       “Careful, Bre.  Sade can be addictive.”  Melanie said.

       Breanne looked back at the main stage thoughtfully.  “Yes.  She could be, but I can tell she has a good heart.”

       Melanie sighed.  “Yes, but she’s a user.”  She took a few steps and pushed open the backstage door, pulling Breanne away.

       It took only two songs for Melanie to show Breanne how to use the computer system to place a payment request on Mike and Jeff’s table, then Breanne followed Melanie back out onto the main floor.  Together they watched a tall leggy brunette with doe-like eyes garner the attention of the guests while Sade finished the last of her dances on the back stage, still attracting a few special interests.  Breanne wondered what she and Melanie were waiting for.

       “So how has your evening been, Ms. Erikson?”  A voice suddenly asked in her ear.  Startled, Breanne turned and found William Price grinning at her.  His dark suit and purple silk tie seemed austere and professional.

       “Um…fantastic.”  She stammered.

       He nodded.   “Excellent.  We’re just waiting for Sade to finish up.”  He said, inclining his head toward the African beauty who was grinding her hips millimeters from the nose of a guest.

       “What are we waiting for?”  Asked Breanne, curious.

       “You’ll see as soon as this song finishes.”  Replied William.  He grinned.  “By the way, if you say ‘I love the Lock’, I’ll stop.  That’s your safe word.” Bre nodded.

       She felt the flutters of excitement and she spent the last few bars of the song smoothing down the blue and white plaid of her little schoolgirl skirt.  She felt trepidation, and yet totally accepting of whatever was going to come her way.  Finally the song ended and they watched as Sade quickly dismounted the stage, snagging her dress and undergarments, walking across the floor totally naked toward them.  Breanne had seen some impressive dressings before, but Sade managed to slip her bra and panties back on despite the high heels and high speed as she moved.

       “I’m ready.”  Sade announced, zipping up her dress, as she came to a stop in front of William Price.

       Price nodded and then looked up toward the Disc Jockey’s booth.  For the first time Breanne noticed the announcers voice introducing the girls and the songs.  The stage lights flashed and both Price and Sade walked off toward the stage door.  Breanne glanced at Melanie who shook her head indicating that she should stay.

       “Guests of the Lock, we interrupt our regular dance lineup for something special.  Its time for another page from yesteryear, a glance back at our annuals.”  The lights on the stage rose, illuminating William Price standing in front of a large stand, shaped like a capital letter “H”, made of dark black steel pipes.  Sade, still impeccably dressed, stood slightly back and to the side.  Two spotlights came on, one illuminating Sade, the other on Price and the metal frame.

       Sade came forward as the sounds of the audience quieted.  “Mr. Principal?  I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but one of your students has been very bad.”  Sade’s voice dripped with sarcasm and sexy impertinence.  Her voice came over the speakers loud and clear and Breanne realized that both Sade and Price were wearing microphones.

       Price’s eyes narrowed and he nodded at Sade.  “I see.  What has she done?”

       Sade grinned and shook her head.  “Oh she’s been VERY naughty.  First of all, she’s a cock tease, wearing a little skirt and tiny panties, flashing herself to men.  But that’s not all, sir.  She has gone to dark places and offered herself up, a little slut and a whore, with no morals, willing to let any man do anything to her.”

       Price’s face flashed with mock outrage.  He shook his head and smacked a fist into his palm.  “We can not tolerate that at this school.  Who is the offender?  What’s her name?”  Price demanded.

       Sade turned and looked directly at Bre.  “Her name is Breanne!” 

       Suddenly another spotlight came on and Breanne knew that Melanie had placed her in a prepositioned spot as the white light fully highlighted her.  Every face in the hall turned toward her, studying her soft red hair, the white complexion blushing to match her head, the white schoolgirl blouse, the plaid skirt and white thigh-high stockings.  Breanne’s eyes widened in horror at being singled out, and she trembled as Melanie put a stabilizing hand on her arm.

       Price looked over at Breanne.  “Bring her to the office.  I think she deserves detention… and corporal punishment!” 

       Breanne felt a soft push and saw that Melanie and the smiling brunette who had been dancing a moment before held her, almost carrying her to the stage.  Breanne took several steps on her own until she stood looking up at Price’s face, still etched with the anger of the principal.  He reached down and took her hand and she found Melanie and the brunette lifting her up onto the stage in a practiced movement.

       He pulled Breanne in front of the steel stand, forcing her to face the crowd.  The bright lights made the staring of their hungry eyes a little easier to bear as Price glowered at her. 

       “Breanne, you are here to be punished for your sluttiness.  Turn around and face the spanking stand.”  Price ordered.

       Breanne swallowed and turned to face the steel stand.  The middle bar was low, just beneath waist height and Breanne realized that she would be bent over it.  Sade moved forward and grabbed hold of Bre’s left ankle, pulling her legs apart to the wide uprights of the stand.  A thick leather cuff went around the white stocking, holding Bre secure.  Sade went to the other side, locking Breanne’s legs wide apart.

       “Bend over at the waist and put your arms behind your back.” Ordered Price.

       Breanne immediately obeyed.  The heavy metal bar felt cool against her stomach and it somewhat supported her weight.  To her surprise, it seemed very thick and wide.  She moved her hands backward and there was the sudden rattle of chains.  Sade made quick work of binding Breanne’s wrists to a dangling chain extending from the tops of the uprights.  It pulled Breanne’s arms upward, forcing her to remain in a bent position, still facing the back wall.

       Suddenly the stage began to move and Breanne gasped as the center circle of the stage began to rotate.  Slowly her view changed until she was looking at the back stage door, then the bar, then disc jockey room, then the main floor, then the back stage, round and round until she was looking at the back of the stage again.

       “Breanne, due to your slutty, wanton behavior, it falls upon me, your principal, to administer your chastisement.” Price said.  All eyes, including Breanne’s turned toward William Price.  “As you well know, it is this school’s policy that corporal punishment measures be inflicted upon bare skin.”  There was a loud cheer from the audience as Price grasped the hem of Breanne’s skirt, lifting it up and bunching it around her waist.  The white g-string thong was nothing more than a thin line of cloth around her waist and between the cheeks of her bottom.  Wiggling slightly, Breanne gave the audience exactly what they wanted.

       “This is unacceptable!  Look at the whorish panties you are wearing!”  Price said in mock indignation.  “For that they will be removed!”  He held out a hand and Sade, who had been rummaging around backstage reappeared, slapping a pair of scissors into Price’s hand.  With a deft twist, he slipped the cutting edge of the scissors along the waistband of the thong and then snipped.  There was a sudden loosening and Breanne felt the shreds of her g-string falling, as surely as her dignity had.  Now completely on display, her sodden sex bloomed with ripeness.  To her relief, the stage started to rotate again.

       “After reviewing your behavior, I regret to inform you, Breanne, that your bottom has no hope of surviving the number of spanks that your behavior has merited.  As a result, we will be splitting your punishment to different portions of your body.”  Price nodded to Sade, who immediately bent down and ripped open Breanne’s shirt.  A few buttons popped off as Bre’s lace covered breasts came into perfect view for the audience.  The scissors snapped again and suddenly both heavy globes dangled free, nipples hardened.  Sade wrapped a hand around Breanne’s hair, pulling it tight into a ponytail.  She took a pre-tied string with a loop on the end and quickly snagged the tail, pulling Breanne’s head up, forcing her to maintain eye contact with the guests.

       Bound and spread, with her secrets on review for the whole crowd, and under the threat of an impending spanking, Breanne’s heart quivered.  Hungry eyes roamed over her, exploring her body.  No longer was she an experienced stripper with a taste for the kinky, she was reduced to a pathetic schoolgirl whose naughty cock teasing was finally being stopped.  Her cheeks flushed and she knew that the men before her wanted her to be punished.  They longed for it.  They cheered for it.  She represented every little sixteen and seventeen-year-old schoolgirl who they had watched swishing down the mall corridors in high heels and minis, flaunting their curves and moist lips, their nubile bodies. 

       Tears filled her eyes and brought even more cheers from the audience who were watching with intense anticipation.  Once more Price reached out his hand and Sade laid a huge leather paddle in it.  He swished it through the air and the center stage began spinning slowly.  Breanne realized that the guests would get to see a variety of angles for the spankings, sometimes her tear stained face, sometimes her reddening bottom.  The first blow was hard, a loud smack that roused a chorus of shouts from the guests.  Breanne heard the words “harder” and “more” clearly, and it seemed Price was happy to oblige.  The next blow was just as strong and a little lower, causing Breanne to wail, her bottom wiggling desperately. 

       The stage moved through its rotation, letting the crowd see the next three smacks.  Breanne’s bottom was already a light shade of pink.  Worse, Price seemed to be spacing out the strikes so that her bottom ached unbearably.  The safety phrase ran through Breanne’s mind, but she locked the thought away, knowing that if she said it, her career at the Lock would be over.  She gritted her teeth as the next three spanks forced the air from her lungs.  She pulled hard against her bonds, straining her muscles.  Her breasts bounced with every blow, the nipples dangling large and succulent.

       Price paused for a moment, nodding to Sade, who once more came forward.  Breanne was facing the crowd and was unable to see what Sade was doing beneath her.  Breanne felt Sade’s fingers caress each nipple, gently rubbing it around; and then there was a cruel pinch as Sade attached clamps to each breast.  Breanne cried out, shaking her body, her breasts bouncing hard as the weighted clamps bit deeply into the soft nubs.  Without a warning Price struck Breanne’s bottom hard, causing the young schoolgirl to scream out loud, wailing and begging.  The stage continued through its rotation as Price continued his blows, adding three more, and changing the skin of Breanne’s bottom to bright red.

       She was sobbing, her body aching, trembling with each blow, and then tensing in the bondage.  Her bottom felt as if it were on fire and Breanne was sure that her posterior flamed a brilliant crimson.  Her breathing was labored as she tensed for another smack, but then was surprised to feel the gentle touch of Sade’s hand upon her back.  Opening her eyes, she saw that the stage was littered with dollar bills, most folded in half lengthwise, a gentle green sea.  She saw movement out of her peripheral vision, and noticed that Melanie had climbed up on the stage holding two small bowls.

       The stage continued to rotate until she was once more facing outward toward the crowd.  There was a loud click and the rotating circle stopped.  Her eyes still inflamed with tears, she looked out at the impassioned guests.  Sade stepped up to side of her and knelt down, first lifting the weights of the nipple clamps, and then releasing the vicious clips from Bre’s tender breasts.  Bre burst into tears as the pain of release flooded through her.  Her bottom tingled with the furious heat of her spanking and her breasts felt as if pins and needles had been stuck through them.

       Price turned to the audience as he handed the paddle to Sade who left the stage.  “Gentlemen, I present to you Breanne, who has been chastised for her slutty behavior.  However, I suspect that she is a hard case, and thus we will inflict yet one more torment upon her.”

       Breanne tried to move her head, desperate for a clue as to what they were about to do to her.  Suddenly both Melanie and Sade stood next to her face, each holding one of the small bowls.  Melanie lowered hers letting Breanne see a translucent blue liquid.  Breanne looked at Melanie in confusion, desperately wanting to ask what the mystery fluid was.  She was about to ask when she felt a freezing drop of water splash down upon her bottom.  She jerked in the chains and watched as the crowd erupted into cheers, yelling encouragement to Price, who evidently stood behind Breanne.

       Suddenly Price’s fingers dipped into Breanne’s sex, slipping into the sodden wetness quickly.  He spread the lips of her sex wide and pressed something ice cold, hard, and very thick into her deep well.

       Breanne screamed out loud, arousing the audience, as the ice phallus penetrated her to the core. She bucked madly, trying to dislodge the icy intruder, but Price anticipated her movements, sliding the now melting phallus in and out hard.  But even as Breanne’s brain was processing the insane cold emanating from her groin, Melanie and Sade both lowered their hands, holding the matching bowls beneath Breanne’s breasts.  She felt the wave of heat, but couldn’t react before both Melanie and Sade lifted their bowls, immersing each dangling breast. 

       Breanne let out a piercing wail that seemed to echo through the room.  It left no doubt as to the intensity of the sensations she was feeling.  Each breast was on fire, dipped into the heated blue wax like an apple was dipped into hot caramel.  Both Melanie and Sade had pulled their bowls back down relatively quickly, but the hot liquid cooled and congealed quickly, encasing Breanne’s bosom in two round cups of blue wax, hot to the touch.  Price continued to pound the ice dildo in deep, but it was quickly melting, leaving a river of ice water running down Breanne’s leg into her stocking and shoe.

       The crowd was cheering, and a long round of applause filled the hall as Breanne quivered like a bowl full of gelatin. Finally, Price stopped his icy thrusts, leaving the mostly melted ice rod inside Breanne’s steaming sex.  Together, Sade, Melanie and William Price quickly released the bonds on Breanne, helping her stand.  Her breasts were still coated in the dark blue wax, and she felt exhausted, but she gave a wan smile to all of them.

       “Turn around and take a bow.”  Price said.  Breanne turned and bowed as hoots and hollers rained down upon the stage.  Melanie and Sade quickly gathered up the cash and handed the entire wad to Breanne.

       “Hey, go put this in your locker and get cleaned up, relax a little.  Then we can hit the floor, okay?”  Melanie said as Sade quickly wiped up the water and the brunette dancer from earlier unlatched the steel stand, moving it off the stage.

       Breanne nodded and stepped off the main stage down into the back.  William Price stood there smiling, holding out a hand as she stepped down the stairs.

       “You did marvelously.  You’re hired.”  He said, a big grin on his face.

       “I survived your worst?”  Breanne asked, her eyes glistening.

       Price nodded.  “Its obvious you can endure a lot.  Most of the girls here would have broken down with an ice fuck combined with a nipple waxing, but after our conversation this afternoon, I felt I could risk it.”  He laughed.  “Actually, after that performance, I imagine that our supply of ice phalluses and body wax will need to be restocked.  A lot of the Doms will try to emulate tonight’s performance.”  He took Breanne’s arm and led her back toward the dressing room.

       It was hard for him not to stare at Breanne’s shredded clothing, or her blue covered breasts.  “Sorry if I seem to stare, but you are amazingly attractive.”

       Breanne grumbled.  “I don’t feel it right now.  My butt hurts, my breasts feel heavy and are throbbing, my back is sore, and my toes are pinched in these stupid pumps.”

       Price shook his head.  “Sorry about that, but we had to know that you could withstand anything our guests took you through.  Now we know you’re safe.”  He looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Um…I was wondering…um…would it be okay for me to have those wax molds?”  Price asked.

“You want the molds of my breasts?”  Breanne asked, looking a little shocked.

“Yeah, I know, it’s kinky.  But I like that kind of thing.  They would look great in my office.”  Price replied.  Breanne shrugged.

“Sure, whatever.  You want them now?”  She arched her back and stuck her breasts out toward him.  Carefully, she pressed her fingers into the sides of the

soft mounds, getting her nails under the heavy coating of paraffin.  Slowly, she peeled herself out of the molds, and then handed them to Price.

“Thanks!  This is great. Tell you what, how about I take you to our Jacuzzi?  It’s still early and I don’t think any guests are there.  You can soak your aches away and then follow it up with a dip in the pool.”

       “Really?”  Asked Breanne.

       He nodded.  “Of course.  Come on.  Step out of those stupid shoes and I’ll escort you personally.”

       Breanne slipped her toes out of each shoe, kicking them off under the clothes rack.  Together, she and William made their way into the administrative hall, where Price quickly ran to his office to put up the molds.  Then he returned and led her in the opposite direction, away from the offices. 

       “The pool is free for use to any of our employees and guests.  You may wear a swimsuit if you are not on duty, or the club is closed.  If the club is open, entertainers are required to skinny dip.  However, you don’t have to allow any of the guests to roughhouse or fondle you if you don’t want.”  Price smiled.  “Though some of the girls have taken to charging a few bucks for pool and spa games.”

       Breanne cocked an eyebrow.  “Pool and spa games?”  She asked.

       Price shrugged.  “For some reason, some guys like playing tag with a beautiful naked girl in the pool.  What can I say?”  He smiled.  “Besides, I have to admit that sitting in the spa, cuddling up to you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” 

       Breanne chuckled and nodded as they continued down the hall.  Price opened a heavy wooden door and led her into a large glass enclosed room.  A large pool sparkled under the bright lights that hung down from the glass ceiling.  Large ficus trees sat in heavy planters spaced evenly around the room and Price pointed to a large and fluffy white towel from a cart immediately to the left of the door.

       “Towels are provided courtesy of ‘The Lock’ and the spa is right over there, behind those partitions.”  He motioned toward one side of the deck.  “But remember, the time you spend in here is time you aren’t on the floor earning money.”  He gave a little wave and exited back through the door.

Chapter 5: Swimming in the Deep

       Breanne paused for a moment, gazing in rapture at the large swimming pool, the crystal blue waters, and the lush greenery that seemed to create little alcoves of privacy.  She pulled one of the large fluffy towels from the cart and wrapped it around her naked and tender body.  For a moment, she thought about taking a cool dip in the swimming pool, but then realized that her body needed the tender warmth of the spa.  She quickly walked around the partition to where Price had said the spa was, her bare feet slapping on the concrete decking.  The spa sat embedded into the floor, easily big enough to hold ten people, its hot water bubbling.  Sitting against one side, his eyes closed, a man sat relaxing in the warm water.

       “Oh.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize anyone was here.”  Breanne said, her eyes opening in surprise.

       The man in the spa looked at her and then gave her a smile.  “That’s okay, plenty of room for both of us.”  He said.  His eyes narrowed and he looked at her more closely.  “Hey, you’re Breanne, that girl that just got spanked, iced, and waxed up on stage!” 

       Breanne nodded, still standing on the edge of the spa, wrapped in her towel.  “Yeah.”  She replied, an embarrassed look on her face.  “But how did you know?  You couldn’t possibly have seen me on stage and then gotten over here before me like this.” 

       The man laughed and then pointed upward.  Breanne turned and looked, seeing a large monitor screen hanging from a joist in the wall.  Her eyes widened as she saw the main stage brilliantly lit, one of the other entertainers dancing.

       “See?  I saw the whole thing.”  He said grinning.  “But don’t worry about it.  Every girl here goes to the principal’s office on her first night.”  He paused, waiting.  “Are you going to get in?”  He asked.

       “Oh!  Oh, I mean yes.”  Breanne said.  She opened the towel and tossed it onto one of the deck chairs close by.  Hesitantly, she dipped her toe into the water, but found it the perfect temperature.  She gave the man a smile as she slid into the water.

       “I have to say that you are very beautiful.”  He said.  Breanne gave him a responding smile as the water came up to her neck, slightly hiding her womanly charms.  “I’m Richard.” 

       Immediately Breanne saw that Richard was not a Hollywood hard body.  His light brown hair was thinning on top, the heavy mustache he wore seemed to make him look older, rather than wiser, and while not fat, he was certainly not the tanned and toned male image seen on television.  But Breanne sensed in him a love of adventure and fun that she wasn’t used to encountering.

       “Breanne.”  She replied, reaching out one hand.

       He laughed.  “I know, I remember you being introduced.”  He took her hand and gave it a polite shake. 

       Breanne rolled her eyes and gave a rueful grin.  “Not the most dignified of introductions.”  She said.

       “On the contrary, it was incredible.  Not only that, but you have certainly set a new standard.  Normally, visits to the principal only involve a good paddling and clamps.  You’re little adventure of fire and ice will be copied frequently in the future.  I may even inflict those tortures on the next girl I buy at auction.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Do you buy a girl often?”  She asked.

       Richard sighed happily.  “Well, usually only once a week.  I come for the sauna, the spa, and the pool.  I really should use the gym, but I can’t seem to work up the ambition to spend an hour on an exercise bike.”

       “There’s a gym here?”  Breanne asked in wonderment.  No one had mentioned a gym.

       Richard nodded.  “Yeah, it’s down the hall from here.  It’s free for members.”  Then he grinned.  “I might have to talk to William about having some of the girls exercise in there occasionally.  Might be enough for me to get off my lazy butt.”  He laughed.

       Breanne imagined herself in the gym, working out naked on an exercise bike as the male guests of the Lock watched.  She gave a sheepish grin as she felt another sudden surge from between her legs.  She shook her head, trying to bring her thoughts back to the spa.  She looked at Richard.

       “So what kind of things are you into when you buy a girl?” She asked, trying to make small talk.

       Richard shrugged.  “I’m into full body whippings and clit torment.  I like binding up my slave girl, whipping her till she’s red, then applying a variety of items ranging from vibrators to ice directly to her clit.”

       Breanne’s eyes widened and her lips parted in interest.  “Really?  Do you have sex with her at the end?”  She asked.

       Richard nodded and laughed.  “Of course!  What’s the point of having her if you don’t finish?”  He shook his head.

       “I’d buy a girl more often, but I find myself exhausted by the end of most work days, so I let one of the oriental girls massage me from head to toe, then enjoy the soft and gentle sex they are so willing to provide.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Are you going to bid on a girl tonight?”  She asked, suddenly curious.

       Richard looked at her with an appraising gaze.  “Hmmm…I just might.  Will you be going up on the auction block tonight?”  He asked.

       Breanne gave him an impish smile.  “I hadn’t really thought about it.”  She replied, knowing full well that she would.

       “You should.  First time girls always are a hot commodity.  Very expensive.”

       “Would I be good for one of your whippings?”  She asked, her voice suddenly sultry as she looked at him through half closed eyes.

       “I’m sure you would be, but I’d have to check the resiliency of your skin.”  Richard replied with a grin.

       Breanne swept forward until she felt Richard’s knees with her thighs.  She quickly straddled him, feeling the shape of his body through the swim trunks he wore.  She reached down and took hold of both of the man’s hands and quickly pressed them too her breasts, forcing the fingers to kneed her flesh.

       “Uh…Very resilient!”  Richard said, still startled.

       Breanne tilted her head back as Richard massaged her breasts, tweaking the nipples.  She let out a tiny moan and then leaned forward to whisper.

       “Would you like to give my breasts a little spanking right here?  Sort of a preview of what might be yours after the auction?” 

       Richard nodded earnestly.  “Those cute breasts of yours, that beautiful slit, and that marvelous bottom!  Can I use a sap?”

       “Yep.”        Breanne licked her lips.  “For three hundred you can spank and sap me till I’m red.”  She lifted her arms up over her head, crossing them in a languorous motion. 

       Richard pushed Breanne off his lap and quickly got out of the spa.  Breanne settled back, propping herself up on the edge, her breasts fully in view.  Richard went to one of the deck chairs and Bre noticed that there was a small leather satchel resting against the soft vinyl backing.  Richard rummaged through it for a moment and then pulled out a heavy looking leather sap, which he eagerly carried back to the spa.

       “That is the perfect position, Breanne.”  Richard announced.  He moved toward her, dipping the sap in the water.  Breanne braced herself against the edge of the spa, her heavy breasts inches above the water.

       The crack of the sap against her right breast was unusually loud, but nothing prepared her for the sharp sting that seemed to set her skin on fire.  She gasped and even let go of the spa edge because of the pain, but she recovered almost instantly as the next swing of the sap brought her left breast to the same level.  Breanne gritted her teeth as a moan escaped her lips.  Richard didn’t even notice, pulling back to deliver another set of blows to Breanne’s bosom that made her cry out, her breasts heavy and hot.

       Another four blows to each breast turned them a deep shade of pink and Breanne sat in hot water, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as her breasts throbbed.  Richard spent a minute examining each in turn, holding up the hot flushed skin.  Finally he seemed satisfied.

       “Can you please turn around and lean over the edge now?  I need you to raise your bottom out of the water.”  He asked her.

       Breanne nodded, swallowing her pain and turned, kneeling now on one of the higher seats.  She raised herself up until she was laid across the deck, her heavy breasts touching the cool concrete, her legs dangling into the water.  She kept her thighs close together and closed her eyes as Richard approached.

       The first slap of the sap would not have been so bad had she not recently undergone the paddling on the main stage.  Despite the respite in the spa, her bottom was already sore.  Her scream seemed to echo through the room.  She thrashed her legs for a second as the burning pain seeped deeply into her body.  Richard grabbed hold of her legs in one arm and then began to rain blows down upon her exposed and upturned bottom, turning the buttocks bright red.  After at least ten blows Richard stopped, lightly caressing her cheeks, feeling the heat.

       “You are totally incredible, Breanne!” 

       Breanne lay on the deck, choking back her sobs, tears staining the concrete beneath her cheek.  Her bottom felt as if a clothes iron had been pressed onto it.  Slowly she regained her composure as Richard continued to stroke her body, smoothing her skin along her back and legs.  Finally after several minutes she rolled over, feeling the pain of her weight on the deck, but relishing the cool relief.  She looked up at Richard, who still stood in the spa, the water up to his waist.  His eyes were bright and the outline of his hard cock was easily seen against the cotton fabric of his swim trunks.  There was a sudden rush and Breanne moaned as the realization of what she had just endured took her, exciting her sexually.  Carefully, gently, she spread her legs wide apart, letting the pink petals of her sex be easily seen.

       Just as Richard was about to bring the sap down upon Breanne’s exposed sex, there was a gentle cough which roused both Richard and Breanne.

       “Wow, Bre.  I knew you were intense, but this is pretty extreme!”  Melanie said, her eyes glittering.  She looked at Richard and his sap.  “You know, Sir, that she won’t be able to keep her legs open for that.  Want some help?”

       Richard laughed.  “Of course, that would be most welcome.”  He motioned her to come over.

       Melanie had changed and was now wearing a short black mini skirt along with a silver sequined blouse that accentuated her curves.  She snagged Breanne’s towel from the deck chair and laid it out to either side of Breanne’s head.  Both Richard and Breanne watched in astonishment as Melanie took off her panties, reaching under the skirt for them, and then dropping the tiny g-string on the deck.  She stood right above Breanne’s head and then knelt, positioning herself so that Breanne’s mouth had no place to go other than Melanie’s sex.

       Richard grinned in pleasure, then lifted Breanne’s legs up to Melanie who grasped each ankle tightly.  Melanie winked at Richard. 

       “I want to feel her screaming into my pussy, Sir.”  Melanie said.

       Richard nodded and then raised the sap and brought it down sharply between Breanne’s legs.  Breanne’s entire body jerked against Melanie as the poor red haired girl yelled, the vibrations of her shriek reverberating through Melanie’s pink flower.  Melanie ground herself downward, trying to get as much of herself into Breanne’s mouth as possible.  Richard smacked Breanne again, another stinging blow, yet slightly higher, to punish the tiny nub of clit that was hiding so aptly.  Breanne’s legs strained against Melanie’s tight grip as Richard began stroke after stroke, turning the soft and tender slit into a steamy morass of heat and pain.  Breanne lay sobbing into Melanie, tasting the blonde girl’s sexual secretions as her own body responded to the brutal punishments.  Finally, Richard stepped back, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

       Melanie however immediately bent over, putting her head down to the tenderized petals.  Using her tongue, Melanie began to caress Breanne’s clit and labia, licking the hot skin up and down until Breanne was no longer moaning in pain, but moaning in pleasure, using her warm tongue to work Melanie’s clit.  In moments both girls had come, dripping wet, their bodies entwined like hooks.  Melanie finally lifted herself from Breanne and sat on the deck, looking down at Breanne.

       Her body still red from the beating, Breanne lay, exhausted, hurting, and yet totally pleased with the end results.  She turned and looked over at Melanie, who gave her smile. 

       “Did I beat Sade?”  Melanie asked softly, reaching out with one hand to stroke Breanne’s forehead.  Breanne nodded, giving a tiny chuckle.  Melanie looked over at Richard, who was putting away his sap.

       “Were you satisfied, Sir?” Melanie asked. 

       Richard nodded.  “Oh yes.  Bre was fantastic and I really appreciated your help.  I hope you had a good time.”  He opened up a black leather wallet and held out four one hundred dollar bills.  “Three are for Breanne and one is for you.  Thank you.”

       Melanie mouth opened in astonishment and she quickly stood up, grabbing the bills.  “Thank you, Sir.  I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here at the Lock!” 

       Richard inclined his head in a mock bow and picked up his towel and satchel and walked around the partition toward the changing rooms.  Melanie turned back to look at Breanne.

       “Geeze, Bre, are you an Indian, or have you just been beaten silly?”  She asked.  “You’re red all over!”

       Breanne let out a long sigh.  “Yeah, I know.”

       Melanie shook her head.  “Can you stand?”  She asked, concern written all over her face as she bent over and picked up her g-string panties.

       Breanne nodded.  “Yeah.  I’ve been through worse.  Lots worse.”  She said as she rose to her feet.  Melanie reached out a hand and helped her up.

       “Well, here is your three hundred.  I have to admit this was the nicest hundred I’ve earned.  Thanks.” 

       Breanne laughed and bent over to pick up her towel, wrapping it around her as she took the bills from Melanie.

       “I think I’ve had enough rest and relaxation now.  The spa was nice.”  Bre said matter-of-factly.  Melanie burst into laughter.

       “Yeah. I bet.”  She shook her head in dismay.  “Breanne, I think you are going to put us all to shame.  Come on.”

       Together the two girls left the pool area, one still dressed in her mini skirt and blouse, the other wearing nothing but a white fluffy towel to hide her hot pink and tender body.

Chapter 6:  Back into the Den

       Breanne dropped the towel in the laundry as a bevy of scantily clad girls scurried around the dressing room, following Melanie toward the rack of costumes.  There was a large collection of evening type dresses, and exotic lingerie, but Breanne felt the need to for continuity, picking out a blue plaid skirt that flared, along with the prerequisite white blouse and thigh high stockings.  It took only a few moments to get dressed and then freshen her makeup, giving her eyes the dark outlines and shaded lids, seemingly in such demand.

       Melanie clucked her tongue.  “I’m glad there is only one of you.  I’d be out of business.” 

       “I kind of doubt that Melanie.  You are incredibly attractive.”  Breanne said, her lips pouting.

       Melanie shrugged.   “I know, but there is something about you that is just intoxicating.”  She glanced over at the wall clock and her eyes widened.  “Uh oh…its almost time for your auction.  No time to work the crowd.  If you did a dance, or even two, your time would be up.”  She grabbed Breanne’s hand and tugged her toward the doorway to the main room.

Breanne felt her heart race as they hurried into the flashing lit darkness of the main room, candlelight and the hungry faces of men around them.  Breanne clung to Melanie as they made their way toward the bar to the right of the main stage.  The main stage was brightly lit and Breanne watched with curiosity the strange tableau currently being acted out.  One of the girls she had seen earlier, but not gotten her name, was kneeling on the heavy block in the center of the stage.  She was completely nude, her legs splayed outward, her head down.  Swirling around her was William Price, is dark suit appearing almost demonic.  He held a microphone in one hand and a heavy leather cat-o-nine-tails in the other.  Suddenly he sent it swishing and Breanne watched in astonishment as the multi-headed whip lashed across the creamy, yet already pink tinged breasts of the girl.

“Do I hear twenty five hundred?”  Price said, the deep timbre of his voice filling the room.  Tears seemed to fill the eyes of the young girl, which then cascaded down her cheeks.  Another lash across her breasts resulted in a shouted bid from the back of the hall.

“I now have three thousand, gentlemen.    Three thousand for the lovely Tiffany.  She’s very experienced, gentlemen, and oh so willing.  Do I hear thirty five?” 

Breanne glanced around the room.  It seemed that she and Melanie had caught just the last few moments of the auction scheduled before hers, a willowy waif of a girl named Tiffany.  Melanie grinned and leaned into Breanne’s ear.

“Tiffany is one of our specialists.  She’s an actress.”  Melanie said.  Breanne’s eye quirked and she looked back at Melanie in confusion.

“An actress?”

Melanie nodded.  “Yeah, you can get her to play any role you want, any age.  She can change her voice, her appearance, anything.  Just tell her what you want a voila, she can do it.”

Breanne looked impressed.  “Really.  That’s kind of cool.  So you have a specialty, Melanie?

“I’m a food girl” Melanie replied.

“Food?”  Breanne asked, suddenly extremely interested.

“Going once!”  William Price said.

Melanie nodded.  “Yep.  Cover me with sauces, stuff me with fruit, make a banana split inside me, anything you want.”

“Ohhh…I get it.  Is there really that much of a demand for that?”  Breanne asked, looking back up at the naked beauty on the stage.

Melanie shrugged.   “Actually, not really, but the few guys who like that stuff prefer me when they are here.  I’m not picky about what’s stuffed up inside me.  Once I got selected for a special party in the VIP room upstairs and they wanted chocolate fondue, with me as the pot.  I spent an hour and a half tied bent in half with my ankles around my ears, my pussy clamped open to straps, while the cooks poured melted hot chocolate into me.”

“Going twice!”  William Price intoned.

Breanne grinned.  “That doesn’t sound that bad.  I can just imagine laying there having everyone dip things into me.”

Melanie laughed.  “It doesn’t surprise me.  I’m beginning to suspect that you pretty much accept anything.”

“No, I have my limits.”  Breanne’s voice was tinged with regret.  “So how did you get started in that speciality?”

William Price’s voice came back loud.  “Sold!  Tiffany is sold to the gentleman at table 14 for three thousand.”

Melanie smiled. “Well, I was a working at a bank, relatively well off, and one day I wandered into this little French Café I had heard about.  The meal was fabulous, but when I tried to pay with my credit card, I was told there was a problem and that the Café owner wanted to speak with me.  I was escorted to the back room, and to make a long story short, I was stripped, bent over a butcher block table, and then prepared as a centerpiece on a platter.  I then spent forty minutes tied up in the middle of a table in a private room of the café with eleven guys eating roast beef and vegetables off my body.”

“Oh my God!”  Breanne said, totally startled.

“Anyway, I really enjoyed it, and became a regular there, until one day the Chef, that’s the owner, a French guy with a funny accent, arranged for me to get a job here.”

“Wow.  I can’t believe it.  That’s incredible.”

Melanie shrugged.  “The Chef usually uses me when there is a request for a dinner or dessert, though some of the other girls do it too.”

Breanne nodded.  “It sounds totally awesome.”

“It works for me.  Okay, two dances, and then you’re up for auction.  Come on, I’ll introduce you to one of your likely bidders.”  Melanie nodded toward the front of the room near the stage.

Breanne followed Melanie as they weaved their way through tables and chairs, and the appreciative faces of sex hungry men.  It took only a second to figure out where Melanie was headed, and Breanne saw a solitary figure at one of the front tables.  The remains of an expensive dinner sat in front of him, a wine glass, still half full, near his hand.  His eyes were glued to the stage as one of the other girls came out, swirling and moving to the music.

“Good evening, Mr. Keel.”  Melanie said, slipping into the seat next to the well dressed man.  She held Breanne’s hand in her own, letting Breanne stand between the two chairs.

“You asked me to bring my friend, Bre around so you can meet her, so here she is.”  Melanie smiled, tugging Breanne closer.

Breanne felt him sizing her, looking her up and down, almost as if she were a piece of exquisite meat, a fine steak or veal.

“Ah yes, our little schoolgirl from earlier.”  He pushed his chair back, taking Breanne’s hand and pulled her down into his lap.  Breanne grinned as she felt his hand slip under her skirt up toward her sex, stopping just as the fingertips reached the gauze cloth of her g-string.  “And how are you finding your first evening here at the Locke?”  Keel asked.

Breanne grinned.  “It’s been fantastic sir.  Melanie tells me that you are likely to bid on me.” 

Joshua Keel laughed.  “Really?  Well I do suppose my reputation precedes me.  Yes.  In all likelihood I will.  I prefer some of the less experienced girls here.  I relish the body of a fresh nubile girl like you to practice my skills upon.  And you would do nicely.”

“What kind of skills do you have sir?  Anything special?”  Breanne asked, more than a little curious.

Keel held up one finger, quickly bringing it out from under Breanne’s skirt.  “Ah ah…if I were to tell you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, and from the look on your face I’m sure that little Ms. Melanie here has not told you either.”   Keel turned toward the brunette girl.  “And I would appreciate it if you kept it that way.”

Melanie nodded.  “Of course sir, I would never tell her, especially now that I am aware of your wishes.  Bre will be kept in the dark, though you should reassure her that you won’t violate her limits, sir.”

Keel looked up a Breanne.  “What are your limits young lady?”  He asked.

Just as Breanne was about to reply, the lights on the main stage dimmed once more and William Price once more stepped onto the platform.  His dark black blazer seemed to soak up the like, making him look sinister, his hands full with the microphone and the whip.

“Gentlemen, I am pleased to inform you that it is time for another auction.  At this time we have the Slave girl Breanne, who many of you now doubt witnessed earlier receiving her first ever spanking at the Locke.  Breanne, a block virgin, will be brought forward now.”

Breanne sat in Keel’s lap looking stunned.  Suddenly Sade was standing next to her, pulling her up as Melanie took the auburn haired beauty’s other arm.  Carefully, but illuminated by a spot light which had immediately found them, Breanne was led upward toward the stage, mounting the outside steps quickly as Sade and Melanie brought her forward.  Still transfixed by the light, Melanie immediately began removing Breanne’s clothes, releasing the Velcro fastenings with skill.  Sade made a show of taking some tan binders twine and quickly tying Breanne’s hands together in front of her.  It took only a minute for the two girls to finish, leaving her standing naked, her hands bound, illuminated and paraded in front of the entire audience.

“To the block!”  Price announced, swinging the whip hard against Breanne’s still tender bottom.  Breanne stumbled over toward the heavy wooden platform in the center of the stage, kneeling down upon it as she had seen Tiffany earlier.  The lights blinded her, but she could still pick out the face of Joshua Keel staring intently at her.

There was no warning as the cat-o-nine-tails swished into her creamy breasts, causing Bre to gasp, her arms folding in front of her to ward off any additional blows.  There was a loud murmur through the crowd and Breanne caught Price’s glare.  Gingerly, she dropped her arms, exposing her now pink striped melons to everyone’s view.  She closed her eyes, knowing what was about to come.

*CRACK*  The whip once more hammered across her breasts, causing her to arch her back, tilting her head with her mouth open in a soundless cry.  Her breasts now were almost totally pink, a rosy color that matched the flush of her cheeks.  Price nodded, pleased that this time she hadn’t covered herself.  He turned and looked out over the crowd, bringing the microphone to his lips.

“Gentlemen, I would like to present Breanne, a twenty two year old college junior.  She is five foot four weighing in at one hundred and seventeen pounds.  She says that her interests include horseback riding, classical music, and says she loves to cook.  Breanne has been involved in bondage and discipline since she was seventeen, and enjoys anything explicit, creative, humiliating, and painful.”  Price hesitated a moment and then smiled.  “Limits are house rules only.”

There was an excited murmur from the crowd and even a few appreciative whistles.  Breanne wondered what the commotion was about.  She remembered reading a copy of the house limits when she had applied and she couldn’t think of anything else to add to them.  She glanced to where Melanie was standing and was surprised to see the look of resignation on the girl’s face.

Price held up his whip again, motioning for the crowd to settle down.  “Gentlemen, there has already been some expressed interest in Breanne, and as such, I will exercise the Houses right to begin the bidding at two thousand dollars.  Do I have anyone for two thousand?”

Breanne was surprised to see quite a number of hands go up, which immediately prompted Price to raise the bid.  “Twenty five hundred?”  He asked.  Every hand that had risen at the first bid was still up.  “Three thousand?”  Price continued.

Breanne watched as slowly, some of the bidders began to drop out.  She noticed that the two men she met earlier, Michael and Jeff, were still both bidding intently.  Joshua Keel was also raising his hand as William Price ascended upward by five hundred dollars a call.  She looked around for Richard and noticed him bidding from the back of the common room.  She had mixed feelings about each of her potential buyers.  Michael, as much a newcomer to the Locke as she was, would no doubt merely enjoy her sexual company in a light manner.  Richard would no doubt enjoy whipping and spanking her for his entire hour.  And Breanne had no idea what kinks Joshua Keel enjoyed.

The slash of the whip across her bottom caused her to jump and once more listen to Price’s auctioneering.  “Gentlemen, the bid is now six thousand dollars.  Do I here sixty five?  Sixty five, we now have sixty five, do I hear seventy hundred?”  Upward and upward the price climbed, surprising Breanne.

Michael and Jeff were the first to drop out with Michael looking disappointed.  Breanne could just imagine Jeff telling the disappointed man that there were other, cheaper girls.  She glanced back to Richard, who was still staring at her intently, just as Keel was.  As the bids began bouncing between the two men, the hush in the room grew until only William Price’s voice was heard.  When the bids hit nine thousand Breanne stared in astonishment, realizing that she would walk home with over four grand.  Finally it was Richard who shook his head, admitting defeat as Keel finalized the bid at ten thousand dollars.

“I have ten thousand dollars, gentlemen, do I hear ten five?  Ten Five?  Think about it gentlemen, look at this skin!  Admire how it glows!”  Price swung the cat-o-nine-tails again, striking Breanne across the chest once more.  Breanne blinked away tears. 

“Imagine being able to abuse this girl!  To torment her!  To punish her!  Look how her body yields to the whip!  This girl was made to be tortured.  She was made to satisfy your desires…”  Price trailed off.  There was still silence and Keel looked intently at her.

“Sold to the gentleman at table 3 for ten thousand.”  Price finished.

Chapter 7: Sold!

       Once more Sade and Melanie stepped onto the stage, quickly grasping Breanne under the arms and lifting her too her feet.  Through her tears she saw Keel immediately rise from his table and move to the back of the room where she lost sight of him in the dim lights.  Melanie escorted her off the stage into the back room where Breanne was once again surrounded by bright lights and hurriedly changing girls.

       “Okay, Bre just relax and you will be fine.  Keel isn’t terribly kinky, but what he will want will be very different from anything you’ve done before.” Melanie said as she led Breanne through the dressing room and out into the administration hallway.

       “What do you mean?  What’s he going to do to me?”  Breanne asked, feeling trepidation for the first time. 

Melanie shook her head.  “I can’t tell you, but I can say that he isn’t like that Richard guy.  He’s not going to whip you…probably.   He’s actually quite vanilla.  You’ll see.” 

       Breanne nodded.  “Why was everyone shocked when Mr. Price said my limits were the “house rules”?”  Breanne asked.

       Melanie’s smile turned to a quirky frown.  “Well, it’s just the guys like no limit girls, and the house limits are pretty tame.”  She replied.

       “That didn’t answer my question.”  Breanne said as they stopped in front of a door labeled “stairs”.  Melanie opened the door, revealing a well lit stairwell.

       “Well, to be honest, I find house rules to be a little on the lenient side.  All they do is prohibit scat and golden showers, which I can’t even imagine doing in the first place, blood play, and disfigurement.”

       “What’s so bad about that?”  Breanne asked as they ascended the stairs, Melanie still holding Breanne’s arm due to the binding on her wrists.

       Melanie sighed.  “Well it doesn’t prohibit animals, or bruises, or half a dozen other things that I don’t really care for.”

       Breanne’s eyes widened in alarm.  “Animals?”

       Melanie paused to open the door at the top of the stairwell.  “Yes, but don’t worry, that’s not Keel’s thing.  But you might want to think about resetting your limits with Will, because with open limits like that, I guarantee that you will eventually be on your hands and knees with one of our guest’s great Danes rammed up inside you.”  Breanne’s shocked expression was more than enough for Melanie to know that the auburn haired girl was considering the ramifications, of all kinds.

       They stepped out onto a plush carpeted hallway that was lined with numbered doors.  The carpet was plush and Breanne noticed that the ends of the hallway on both sides were open to more carpeted stairwells. 

       “Those lead back down to the main room.  They’re for the guests.”  Melanie tugged on Breanne’s arm.  “Come on.  You will be in room seventeen.”

       Together, the two girls, one naked and bound, the other dressed in scanty halter top and mini skirt, but both in high heels, walked down the hallway.  In moments, they stopped at number seventeen and Melanie knocked once and then opened the door.

       Breanne gazed around the room in astonishment.  It was a hospital room, complete with bed, all sorts of medical equipment on a cart, right down to the cheesy but expensive armchair in the corner.  Mr. Keel was standing at the window, darkened now with blinds, slowly removing his necktie.

       “I’ve brought Breanne to you, Mr. Keel.  I hope you enjoy her.”  Melanie said.

       Keel smiled.  “I’m sure I will.  Thank you, Melanie.”  He reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a fifty dollar bill.  “Thanks for bringing her up and recommending her.”

       Melanie nodded and then quickly left the room.

       For a moment, Keel studied Breanne, his face inscrutable.  “Did Melanie tell you what to expect?”  He asked.

       Breanne shook her head.  “No sir.”

       “Good.  I would have been disappointed if she had.  Do you like the room?”  He motioned to the strangely out of place scene.

       “It seems accurate sir, but I haven’t spent a lot of time in hospitals.”  Keel laughed at her response.

       “Neither do I, thank God.  But there are some things inside of hospitals that can be very interesting.  Let me show you.”  He motioned her over toward him.

       Breanne approached, her arms still before her, wrists bound and Keel made an impatient noise.  He opened a drawer and withdrew a knife, quickly cutting the bindings on Breanne’s wrists.  

       “Can’t stand that twine crap.  If I want a girl bound I want leather cuffs.”  He said, tossing the knife and twine away.  He turned and took hold of the equipment cart, pulling it forward.

       “Do you know what this is, Breanne?”  He asked, pointing to a small electrical device that sat on top of the cart.  Breanne studied it for a moment, but couldn’t fathom its purpose.  She shook her head.  “No sir.”

       “It’s called a tens unit or in medical terms a transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulator.  Doctors and therapists use it stimulate muscles.  It sends tiny charges of electricity through these wires to these pads, which are placed at either end of the muscle the doctor wants to stimulate.”  Keel held up several small pads.   “They are extremely easy to put on.  Let me show you.”  He took a small bottle from the cart’s lower shelf, squirting some clear gel fluid onto the center of the pad.  Carefully, he placed the pad on the outside of Breanne’s left breast. 

       “That tickles a bit!”  Breanne said, studying the pad.  Keel smiled and lifted a second pad, which joined the first, except on the inside of her left breast.

       “I have a few more to put on you, Breanne, before we begin, so if you will just stand quietly…”

       Breanne nodded.

       Keel picked up several more pads, applying the gel and then positioning them on Breanne’s body with skill.  Her right breast was quickly encased, and three more pairs, one on either side of her sex, and one set on each cheek of her bottom completed the preparation.  The pads seemed glued on and Breanne sat excitedly, wanting yet fearing what would happen next.

       It took Joshua Keel only moments to plug the wires from each pad into the machine.  He then pulled a small control device from the top and placed it on the bed.  Breanne watched as he quickly undressed, admiring his trim form.  He stood before her, striking a momentary pose, his cock already hard and erect.

       “You like?”  He asked.

       Breanne giggled.  “Yes sir.”

       “Excellent.  I work hard to stay in shape.  Thank God the Locke has a gym.”  He said.  He moved to the bed and lay down, patting the mattress.  “I want you on top of me now, Breanne.”

       Careful not to disturb the wires, Breanne climbed on top of the bed, straddling Keel.  She felt his cock press against her wet petals, spreading them slightly and she moaned, her body already announcing its desires.  She hadn’t had a cock inside her since her first dance of the evening and she was beginning to become desperate in her needs.  Gyrating slightly, she slipped herself across Keel’s shaft, then ground her hips in a rolling fashion that resulted in the immediate encasement of his cock.

       “Ohhh…yes.  That feels fantastic.  You are very experienced.”  Keel said, his face betraying the pleasure rolling through him.   He looked directly at her.

       “Now ride me, and no matter what happens, do not touch the pads or any part of your body.  If you do, I will have to punish you severely.  Do you understand?”  He asked.

       Breanne, filled with his shaft and pleased with the solid pillar inside her nodded.  “I understand sir.”  She said, her mind already flooding with the pleasure of Keel’s hard cock slipping up through her.

       Joshua Keel took hold of the control device he had placed on the mattress earlier, his nimble fingers pressing a few of the buttons.  “Here it comes, Breanne.”

       Breanne gasped in astonishment as she felt an uncontrollable surge in her loins.  Powerfully, every muscle of her sex and abdomen tightened hard around Keel’s cock, clamping it in vice like pressure.  Keel gasped and then the surge ended, leaving Breanne panting.  Keel pressed another button, but this time Breanne felt a tight tingling in her breasts, both of them, as if some unseen lover was grasping each erect nipple and twisting them tightly.  Her hands flew to her breasts, clutching them as she continued to bounce on Keel’s rock hard cock, but then dropped them, remembering her orders.

       Another surge came from her loins, locking her in stasis around Keel, eliciting matching moans from both of them.   As the surge ended, Breanne felt both cheeks of her bottom tighten into hard lumps, which seemed to elicit some sort of sexual response from Keel.  He moaned, dropping the control device and grasping her hips, grinding upward as deep as he could.  Another surge came and Breanne cried out as she tightened every part of her, from her breasts to her bottom to her sex, a painful body clenching position that locked her in complete immobility.  When it ended she sucked in a desperate breath, her body tensing in expectation of the next agonizing contraction.

       Keel thrust in and up into her again, seeming to time his deep thrusts with the electrical shocks.  On the fourth shock Breanne burst into tears, her body shaking uncontrollably on top of the perverted man who had purchased her.  She shook her head and reached up, pulling one of the pads from her breast.  Keel reached out, grabbing hold of her wrists, holding her tightly as another shock surged through her violently.  She fought him, trying to pull away as soon as the shock ended, but she was unable to break free of his hold.  Another contraction hit her, once more forcing the breath out of her body.  Keel held her tightly, his teeth clenched in ecstasy.  Breanne didn’t even notice as he lifted his hips, forcing her upward, her body contracting around his exploding shaft.

       He let the tens unit stimulate her muscles two more times before loosening his grip and turning the small control device off.   Breanne, freed from the powerful shocks, collapsed upon his check, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving with gasping sobs.  Joshua Keel kept his arms wrapped around her until she calmed, his limp shaft pressed against her thigh.

       “Now, now, Breanne.  Come on.  I need you to get off now.”  He said, pushing on her shoulders.  Slowly, she sat up, still straddling him.  With a nod and her lip between her teeth, she moved off the bed to stand trembling on the floor.  The removed pad dangled down by her toes.  Keel sat up and reached for a small white towel from the nightstand, cleaning himself off.  After a moment, he turned toward Breanne.

       “Lay down on the bed now.”  He ordered, motioning toward the bed.

       Breanne nodded, a little skittish, her mind wondering what exactly was going to happen next.  She got up on the bed, looking at the naked man who moved around to the top of the bed. 

       “Lift your hands up please.”  He asked, grasping her wrist once more and pulling it up to the top of the bed.  Breanne tensed as she felt the leather cuff which had evidently hung dangling under the bed frame, secured around her wrist.  Keel leaned over her body, his chiseled chest only inches from her nose, grasping her other wrist and enclosing it in the fur lined leather cuff.  Standing upright again, he moved to the foot of the bed, his fingers running over her body, circling around the still attached pads, then down to the soles of her feet.  He grasped her right ankle, pulling her leg to the far corner of the overly large sized hospital bed.

       “These are actually bariatric bed, designed for obese patients, but they have a number of interesting features.”  He reached under the foot of the bed and pulled a large metal frame work upward, setting it into place with a click.   Another set of cuffs was attached to this framework and it took only moments for him to secure her delicate ankles, spreading her legs wide apart.  He tugged on the frame, pleased with his handiwork, and then moved around the bed until he was standing between the naked bound beauty and the tens unit.  His fingers snagged the wire of the pad Breanne had ripped off, pulling it upward and holding it.

       “You were a naughty girl, Breanne.”  Keel said, picking up the bottle of gel.  “I told you not to touch the pads and you violated my order.”  He said it matter of factly, as if he were out for a stroll in the park.  Breanne’s eyes widened and she stared at him.

       “Oh god, no.  Please!”  She whispered, her voice a frightened squeak.

       Keel ignored her protestations, attaching the lead back to her breast.    “We’ll start a little slower this time.” He said, flipping the switch on the unit and picking up the control remote.  Breanne whimpered as she watched him press buttons, expecting the gut clenching shocks to constrict her almost immediately.  But instead of that tight pain, she felt something much different, a kind of tingling in her nipples, soft and erotic.  A matching feeling arose from her sex and bottom and she moaned, rolling her hips forward in a pelvic thrust. 

       She closed her eyes, slipping into a mental state of total acceptance, allowing the sensations to overwhelm her mind.  Every few seconds her body would tingle, eliciting a sexual response she was unfamiliar with.  Keel watched delightedly, turning up the power slightly as he saw her arousal.  After a few minutes, he put down the control and moved to one of the cabinets.  He removed a medium sized box, opening the packaging with experienced expertise, extracting a thin rubber tube that was attached to a small hand held bulb, similar to those found on pressure cuffs.  Reaching back into the box, he pulled a long, slightly tapered cylinder from it that no one would have had trouble identifying.

       But it was odd.  Along its entire length were evenly spaced diminutive holes, encircling the entire shaft, even to the very tip.  With precision, Keel attached the rubber tube to the bottom of the phallus, fitting it in tightly.  With a determined smile, he moved back to Breanne’s side, patting her on the arm to draw her attention.

       “Breanne, this is your punishment.”  He said, holding up the phallus.  Its sides were an odd blue tone and between the buzzing of her body, Breanne suddenly became curious.  How could a vibrator punish her?  She turned her head to look at him, her clit throbbing with the tingling flow of electricity that continued to flow through her.

       Keel smiled.  “I know.  You can’t possibly imagine how this device could punish you.  No doubt you would welcome this penetration, especially in your current state.”  He looked sheepish and then laughed.  “Pun not intended.  However, you did re-volt against me!”  A dangerous chuckle came from the man.  “Here.  I’ll show you.”  He held up the phallus only inches from her eyes and took the small rubber bulb in his hand, squeezing it with quick movements.

       Breanne watched, hearing the pressure of air being pumped into what she had thought was an odd vibrator.  Suddenly, to her amazement, she saw movement inside the tiny holes.  Small thorn like spikes began to extrude through the holes, growing longer with each pump of air.  Amazement turned to horror as she realized the cruelty of the device, and what it was meant to do.  She tugged on her bonds, a whimpering wail building in her throat.

       Keel bent over her, his eyes hard.  “You can scream and cry all you want.  They’re watching us right now.  See that cam over the door?  They know what I’m doing to you.”  He whispered, then straightened.  “Besides, it’s not as bad as it looks.  Here, watch.”  He grasped the spiky phallus in his hand, the soft flesh of his palm fully wrapped around the thorny center.  He squeezed hard, grimacing, then let the phallus drop to the bed, holding up his hand to Breanne’s face.  It was red, with tiny dots, but not a single drop of blood, and no punctures.

       “They aren’t even sharp, just uncomfortable.  One of the house rules is no blood, and I agree with that.  Blood is messy.”  Keel said, picking up the phallus.  There was a hiss of air as he deflated it, allowing the spikes to sink back into the thick housing.  He moved farther down, leaning over Breanne’s thigh.  Breanne gasped as she felt the tip and side of the phallus spread the petals of her sex.  It didn’t penetrate her, merely sitting like a pipe in a furrow, waiting to be buried.  The tip was at her clit, with the base down at the very bottom of her slit.  Keel picked up the bulb and began squeezing.

       It was like nothing she had ever experienced before.  The smooth pipe lying between her parted flesh suddenly sprouted, and she could feel the pin prick like thorns pushing outward.  The flesh of her sex was delicate, the tingling charges of the tens unit still playing havoc with her nerves, and the thorns of the phallus excited her.  She moaned, her hips rolling and she felt the same delicious pain that aroused the sexual senses.  It was light, not like the intense heat of her earlier whippings, but delicate, more refined, and expertly pinpointed.

       One thorn was pressing into her clit, which throbbed in time with the electrical stimulation, and Breanne couldn’t help herself, thrashing her hips as if desperate to push the phallus hard against her body.  Keel watched in amusement as the bound girl squirmed on the bed, a riot of stimulation forcing her into desperate wanton submission.  He reached down to the phallus, pushing it against her body, eliciting a squeal as the still tiny thorns dug in to the soft pink folds of her sex.

       The spikes were not yet fully inflated, but Keel knew that.  He picked up the phallus, turning it to point directly at her deep hole.   Slowly, he twisted it inward, pushing the prickly rod through the wet pink petals of her sex.  Breanne let out painful cry, tugging on her bonds, her body tensing and tugging as it was penetrated by the cactus like phallus.  The tingling of the electric probes caused her to clench around the barbed shaft, forcing the semi-erect thorns to prickle inside her.  She gasped, trying to relax her body, moaning as her sex was tormented.

       Joshua Keel grinned.  This was exactly what he liked, and truth be told, there was rarely a girl who didn’t end up trussed up and punished when he purchased her.  Of course, in all honesty, he could have done it anyway, but he liked the mental torment he inflicted on his purchased girls.  He wanted them to think they were being punished for their OWN actions.  The auburn tressed beauty thrashed upon the bed, her hips dancing as the combination of spiked phallus and electricity tormented her.  He reached down to the phallus bulb, squeezing it fast, repeatedly, eliciting a sharp cry from Breanne as the thorns fully extended inside of her.

       He dropped the bulb and moved back toward the tens unit, picking up the control remote.  Glancing at the clock, he realized that he could torment her a full twenty minutes before having to release her.  Keeping the voltage on her breasts the same, he turned up the shocks going to her loins, in effect forcing her pussy to clamp tightly upon the phallus, just as it had around his own shaft earlier. 

       “You know what I like most about torturing a girl like you in this manner?”  Keel asked, putting down the control remote as Breanne gritted her teeth though another tightening.  “It’s because your nipples and clit are still exposed.  I can pinch them, whip them, clamp them, anything I want, and it doesn’t interfere with the tens unit.”  He reached out and tweaked her left nipple, the hard bump stiff and rigid. 

       “I know the perfect thing for you too.”  He said.  Quickly he moved to one of the side cabinets, pulling down three small plastic vials.  Laying them out, he attached three small long plastic tubes to the base of each vial, which he then carried back over to the tens unit cart. 

       “I don’t use it very often, mostly because I find the tens unit to be more interesting, but on occasion it can be fun.”  He said as he plugged the three tubes into some sort of machine on the second shelf of the cart.  He stood back up, a different control device in his hand.  Breanne’s eyes, watering, squinted at him as he held up the first clear vial. 

       His hand moved over to her right breast, crossing her chest which heaved from the deep draughts of air she took.  He placed the vial over her nipple, pushing its flared opening tight against the contracted areola.  Without hesitation, he pressed one of the remote’s buttons and a slight humming filled the room.  Breanne gasped as she felt her nipple sucked up tight into the vial, as if some hungry mouth was slurping up her body.  It pinched, tightly. 

       Keel lost no time placing the second vial on her other breast, watching as the pink turgid nipple was vacuumed up into the vial.  The poor girl lay bound, her body shaking, her nipples tugged out to extreme lengths and Keel loved the sight of it.  But he had one last vial to place. 
       Slowly he ran his hands down her side, his fingers feeling the supple flesh of the girl he had only recently ravished.  They slipped down to her loins, past the two white electrical pads, to slowly slip through the pink wet folds of her sex.  He teased her clit with his thumb, and then placed the final vial over her it, encasing the small engorged pleasure nub tightly under the plastic.  Her thighs trembled as he pressed the button activating the vacuum, sucking her clit and a good portion of her labia into the small vial.

       Breanne no longer watched Keel.  Her mind was filled with the sensations happening to her body, a parade of agony and ecstasy that had wiped any conscious contemplation beyond the immediate from her thoughts.  She was caught in a vicious cycle, her breasts and clit tingling non stop as every few seconds her body was forced to strain, tightening around the spiked phallus that caused a mix of sensation, the sexual climax of being filled, the slight movement, and the delicious pain of the thorns. All these combined to bring her closer to climax with every minute.  And Keel was totally aware of it.

       He began altering the intensity of the electrical current, allowing her body to relax slightly in one spot, while increasing its intensity in another.  In moments, Breanne was crying out, her hips thrusting upward in wanton desperation.  Her nipples and clit, still caught deep in the small vials, were tinged red, wiggling wildly in the air as she moved, trying to stimulate herself into orgasm.  She looked at him, her eyes wild, begging, desperation written on her face.

       Keel laughed softly, his face only inches away from hers as he gazed in rapt attention.  Her small mewling sounds, punctuated by the soft cries was the music to which he moved.  He played her like a virtuoso, a concert pianist who forced the music to contort and bend to his whims.

       As he watched her he dressed, pulling on his trousers and dress shirt, draping his tie over his neck.

       “We only have five more minutes, and for every five minutes I go over it’s another five hundred dollars, which frankly is nothing to me, but the managers don’t care for it, and I have my reputation to think of.  Of course, the real question that remains is whether or not I let you orgasm.  What do you think, Breanne?  Should I let you explode?  Should I let you come for me?”  Keel asked, whispering to her.

       Breanne nodded, her throat constricted.  “P-p-please…” she gasped as another contraction forced her tender sex to clamp tight to the prickly shaft embedded in her.  Keel hesitated a moment, then smiled. 

       “I told you that I would punish you for trying to remove the pads or touching yourself.  You will be that much more malleable for the next man if I leave you in this state.”  Keel said.  He reached over to the remote control and Breanne gasped as the vial containing her clit suddenly loosened.  Keel pulled it off and Breanne groaned miserably.

       It took only a moment of two before the electrical current had been switched off and all of the vials removed from her body.  Desperately, Breanne ground her hips, trying to force the spiked phallus into the necessary stimulation.  Keel laughed at her attempts, his fingers pulling the sticky electrical pads from their vantage points.

       “I’ve enjoyed our hour together, Breanne.  We only have one more minute before I have to walk out that door.”  He reached down between her outstretched legs, the skin of her thighs glistening with her moisture.  His fingers closed around the base of the spiked phallus, tugging it slightly.  It was stuck tight and merely caused Breanne to arch her back and thrash against her bonds.”

       “Oops.  Guess I should deflate this thing first.” He said, chuckling softly.  He grasped the small rubber bulb in his hand and there was a slight hissing of air as the air inside the phallus escaped from the base.  Breanne let out a loud moaning, filled with her desperate disappointment.  With a quick tug, Keel pulled the odd dildo out, its side slick with her juices.

       “Well, that’s all the time we have tonight, Breanne.  I look forward to purchasing you again.  If our second play time goes as well as the one tonight has, I might make an effort to engage your services for an entire evening.  In any event, thank you for a pleasant hour, and good night.”  Keel said, stopping for one last grin, and then left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving her bound.

Chapter 8: Relief

       It was several minutes that seemed to stretch into eternity before the door opened again, causing Breanne to breathe a sigh of relief.  She smiled at Sade who sauntered in, her dark skin contrasting beautifully with the crimson dress that provocatively revealed large amounts of cleavage. 

       “Oh honey, an hour with Joshua Keel is not how I would have started your first night here at the Locke!”  Sade said, quickly unbinding Breanne’s ankles from the bed framework. 

       Breanne made a small noise, a cross between a chuckle and a sob as Sade leaned across her, releasing Breanne’s petite wrists.  Slowly, she brought her arms down, rubbing them softly, as Sade helped her up into a sitting position.

       “Did he give you relief?”  Sade asked, her face intent.  Breanne shook her head.

       “Bastard.  He rarely does you know.  He’s bought me twice and both times I ‘supposedly’ violated his rules and had to be punished.  I don’t think there is a girl in this place who hasn’t been left hanging by that man.”  Sade finished, a look of irritation on her face.

       “But Melanie seemed real close to him.”  Breanne said, her body still aching as she slowly stood, her hand on the bed to steady her.  “I got the impression that he buys her regularly.”

       Sade shrugged.  “Well, I know that Melanie is a regular occupant of this room.  And to be honest, the hospital room isn’t as bad as some of the others on this floor.  You could have ended up in one of the medieval dungeons and those are just plain painful.”

       “Dungeons?”  Breanne said, her eyes widening as Sade held out the abused girl’s blouse.  “There are dungeons here?”

       Sade laughed.  “Well, they’re on this floor at least.  Two of the room up here are decorated like dungeons.  Stone floors, iron manacles, a wall full of whips and floggers, as well as a few of the more painful torture devices.   There are racks, St. Andrew’s crosses, even a wooden pony, along with your usual assortment of barrels and other inquisition toys.

       “No hot irons, right?”  Breanne asked, her voice timid.

       “Well not quite.  No real hot irons.  That’s against the rules.  Here, step into your skirt.”  Sade said, holding out the blue plaid skirt.  Breanne, put her hands on the chocolate beauty’s shoulders, stepping into the small miniskirt.

       “So where is Melanie?”  Breanne asked as she buttoned the blouse.

       “She got sold about thirty minutes ago.  Went on almost as soon as you got dropped off here.  That guy who almost won you bought her.  She’s down the hall in the “Little Girl’s Room” and I think she’s getting the spanking of her life.  I could actually hear her screaming when I was walking down the hall and these rooms are supposed to be sound proof.”

       Breanne smiled, realizing that Richard, the man who had taken such delight in spanking her in the spa had bought Melanie.  She could just imagine the brunette girl spread out on some chenille spread, her legs spread obscenely to the bedposts as Richard used his little black leather sap on Melanie’s pink slit.

       “All ready?  We need to get you down to the showers, honey.  You’re still all sticky, and I think you need some relief too.”  Sade said, a smile on her face.

       Breanne shook her head.  “Mr. Keel said I that I would be more malleable for another man if I didn’t explode.”

       Sade rolled her eyes.  “Honey, you need to learn a few things here.  One, once his hour is up, he can’t tell you to do anything without your permission.  Right now that man is in the massage parlor while one of those slanty eyed whores is riding him to the tune of three hundred bucks.  Two, you need to have control, and if you go back out on the floor in this state, the first private dance you have is going to end with you riding cock and cumming.”  She shook her head.  “Got to keep things in perspective Bre.  Come on.  Lets get you to the shower.”

       Breanne nodded and followed Sade out the door.  Once more she found herself in the large carpeted corridor resembling a floor from a posh hotel.  Mirrors adorned the walls, and every few feet a small credenza and a vase of fresh flowers sat, filling the air with a sweet fragrance.

       “Who is going to clean the room?”  Breanne asked as the made their way to the administrative stairwell. 

       Sade shrugged.  “There is a cleaning crew who does that stuff.  Change the sheets, wipe everything down.  I know the toys are removed, and fresh ones placed in the room while the used stuff gets cleaned and sterilized.  That room should be ready to use in about thirty minutes.”  Sade opened the door and together the two girls walked down the stairs, their high heels clattering on the linoleum steps.

       They stepped out into the administrative hall and Breanne had no problem finding her way toward the ladies’ dressing room and showers.  Sade walked beside her, strong and confidant.

       “Do you get bought a lot Sade?”  Breanne asked, not sure if she remembered Sade going up for sale.

       Sade shook her head.  “I’m one of the most senior girls here and a bit of a throwback.  I’m a switch.  That means I can be submissive or dominant.”  She grinned.  “Some men that come here like a girl who can do things to them.  I handle those kind of men.  If someone makes a special request for me to be sold however, I’ll go up on the block.  Every once in a while a man wants to dominate me, force me, or something like that.  Sometimes it’s just because I’m black.  The old white supremacy or something like that!”   Sade chuckled.

       Breanne looked at her in astonishment as they stepped into the dressing room.  “That doesn’t bother you?”  She asked.

       Sade shrugged.  “Black, brown, white, red.  What matters is that we are women, and they are men.  They’re willing to pay us for certain things.  I like that.  Makes things much simpler.”  Sade motioned toward the showers.  “Strip girl, and get clean.” 

       Breanne laughed and nodded, quickly unbuttoning her blouse and stripping off her skirt.  She realized she had left her stockings and panties in the hospital room upstairs, but shrugged, knowing the cleaning crew would take care of them.  She bent down, unbuckling her high heels, then moved into the shower room, turning on the hot water and feeling it cascade in steaming sheets onto her skin.

       For a moment, she forgot about the pulsing need she was still feeling in her sex, her mind washing away the memories of her hour long torment endured under Joshua Keel.  Her hands scrubbed at her hair and then shoulders, smoothing out the tension.  She kneaded her own muscles, squeezing her upper arms.

       And then suddenly there was another pair of hands on her, touching her back, massaging her.  She glimpsed the dark skin of Sade as the fingers encircled her arms, slipping a soap film over Breanne’s shoulders.  The delicate but long fingered hands swirled across her chest, cupping her breasts lightly, tenderly stroking the still sore nubs.

       Breanne gasped, protesting, her hands covering Sade’s, trying to pull them away.

       “Hush, girl.  I know what you need.”  Sade whispered, her strong embrace preventing Breanne from stopping her.  Breanne sighed, yielding to the stronger woman’s touch.

       Sade’s hands slipped even farther down, her soft large breasts pressing into Breanne’s back while her fingers traced little circles in the soap.  Breanne moaned as Sade caressed downward, moving lazily toward the tender cleft of Breanne’s sex.  The auburn haired girl tensed as Sade’s finger slipped over the clit, a gentle pressure that reawakened every desperate feeling Breanne had felt while still bound to the hospital bed.

       The dark haired chocolate beauty turned Breanne around, pushing her downward as the water cascaded over the two women.  Breanne felt the cool tiles against her thighs, and then her bottom, finally laying down under the warm rain as Sade descended like an angel.  Sade’s long dark hair lay slick against her head, her Creole ancestry totally apparent.  She bent down, her large lips parting as her tongue slipped neatly into Breanne.

       Bre gasped, a body tensing shudder rushing through her in ways she wasn’t expecting.  Breanne was no stranger to girl to girl love, but Sade’s mouth made a peculiar combination of aggression and gentleness that Breanne hadn’t experienced before.  The coffee colored beauty alternated the gentle probing licks with deep suckling that reminded Bre of the vacuum vials that Keel had inflicted on her.

       She was so keyed up that it took Sade only a few minutes to rouse her to orgasm, the auburn hair spreading out from Breanne’s head like the sun’s corona.  It pooled around her as she trembled, her body finally releasing the built up tension that Keel had wanted her to endure for the rest of the night.  Finally, she sighed, her body relaxing as Sade took one final lap at Breanne’s slippery slit.

       “Mmmmm…girl.  You are one sweet bit of candy.”  Sade said, sitting up, her white teeth flashing as her eyes sparkled.  Breanne looked up at her through the water and smiled weakly.

       Sade laughed and then stood up, leaving Breanne resting on the tiles.  Breanne watched as Sade took her bottle of expensive body wash and was soon lathering her own breasts in white cream.

       “Sade, I don’t know what to say.  That was incredible.  Thank you.”  Breanne said, slowly rising to her feet.  Sade shook her head.

       “Well it wasn’t for free.  I want something from you.”  She said. 

       Breanne cocked her head, curious.  “Like what?”  she asked.

       Sade turned and looked at her directly.  “I want you to consider joining the wrestling club.”

       This surprised Breanne.  “Me?  But I’m no wrestler!”  She said, astonished.

       Sade shrugged.  “Wrestling is just being taught how to do the moves.  It’s not hard.  Besides, our wrestling isn’t like what the men do in the Olympics or that fake stuff you see on television.  Our wrestling is more delicate, more strategy, than brute strength.  I’m good at wrestling because I’m experienced and I know how to outthink my opponents.”  Sade stepped into the water and began rinsing the suds off.

       “Right now we’ve got nine girls and we need a tenth to make things even.  You’re petite, but that doesn’t matter, not if you get taught right.  Liz beats me every once in a while and she’s smaller than you.”

       Breanne bit her lip.  “Well, I guess I can at least try it out.  I mean, I’m game to try just about everything.”  She said, sounding at least conciliatory.

       Sade grinned.  “Well, why don’t you come by early on tomorrow?  Come around ten o’clock in the morning.  The ring won’t be used until that evening, and it won’t cost any extra if we prep it a few hours early.”

       “Prep it?”  Breanne asked, taking some of the body wash and gingerly running it over her tender breasts.

       Sade nodded, stepping out of the spray so Breanne could move into it.  “Yeah.  We only do matches on Friday nights during the fall because of the football season.  After the SuperBowl, we do matches both Friday and Saturday nights, starting around five.  It takes about three hours to get through the entire line up, so we all have time to get cleaned up, do some dances, and the get sold at the block later.  Anyway, during regular matches like the one on Friday, we just use plain old baby oil.  For playoffs we use gelatin, mud, chocolate, or whatever the clients want to see us in.”

       “Mud?  You wrestle in mud?”  Breanne looked at Sade in disbelief.  “You’re kidding me.  You mud wrestle?” 

       Sade nodded and but her hands on her waist.  “Absolutely.  Total fun too.  Its hypoallergenic stuff that Will brings in special for us.  Soft as tallow and does wonders for your skin.  Wish we did it more often, but it’s expensive, so the Locke doesn’t do it that much.”

       Breanne nodded, stepping back under the water one more time.

       “Well well.  I see the two of you have been having a grand old time.”  A new voice said from the shower entrance.  Breanne leaned over, looking around Sade and saw Melanie enter the shower.  The brunette’s body was a bright pink from her breasts to her thighs and there were red stripes running horizontally across her bosom.

       “Wow!  Look at you!”  Sade said, impressed as Melanie stepped closer, turning on the water to the shower next to them.

       Melanie rolled her eyes.  “You remember that guy at the spa, Bre?  Richard?   He did this to me after he lost you to Keel.”  She cupped her breasts gingerly.

       Sade leaned in, examining Melanie’s skin up close.  “Cane?”  She asked, her voice inquisitive.

       Melanie nodded, hissing as the water poured over her breasts.

       “Ouch.  Looks like he did your ass too.”  Sade said, still looking at the brunette girl’s body.

       “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Sade.  But I couldn’t help hearing you explain to Breanne how the wrestling matches worked.”  Melanie said as she cautiously began to soap down, trying not to hurt her already abused body.

       Sade took a step back, a wary look on her face.  “Yeah.  So what?”  She said, her voice taking a dangerous tone.

       Melanie turned and looked over her shoulder at the dark skinned girl.  “You did tell her what happens to the losers, right?” 

       Breanne’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Sade.

       “That isn’t an issue yet.  She hasn’t agreed to wrestle at all.  We’re just meeting on Friday morning so I can teach her a few things.  See if she likes it.  I’ll tell her everything before she makes a decision.”

       “What happens to the losers?”  Breanne asked, directing her question at both girls.

       Melanie stared at Sade, who sighed in exasperation.

       “They’re punished of course.”  She said.  Her body language was definitely communicating her displeasure with Melanie.

       “Punished how, dear Sade?”  Melanie asked, her voice dripping with honey.

       Breanne looked back at Sade who glowered.  “It depends on when they lose, at what level.”  She glared at Melanie and then looked at Breanne.  “We play what’s called a double elimination tournament, Bre.  You have to lose twice before you are eliminated from the game.  The punishments for losing are only severe if you are the first double loser or you lose the final match.”

       “So what’s the punishment?”  Breanne asked, knowing that Melanie wouldn’t have mentioned it if it weren’t important.

       Sade sighed.  “The first double loser gets to spend the rest of the tournament on the punishment chair.  It’s just a double dildoed vibrating chair.”  She said.

       “That delivers shocks and vibrates at the same time.”  Melanie said, rubbing lather over her stomach.  “Not to mention they clamp your nipples and clit.”  She looked pointedly at Sade.  “And Sade didn’t mention that you sit in it for like two and a half hours.”

       Breanne stared at Sade.  “Two and a half hours?”

       Sade nodded.  “Well, it’s supposed to be encouragement for the worst girl to practice more.  Besides, they don’t turn it up all the way.  But if I taught you, I seriously doubt you would ever be in that chair.”

       “What are the other punishments?”  Breanne asked, wanting Sade to make a full disclosure.

       “Oh, the clothespin cart, the wax cart, riding the jackhammer, the spanking cart, or being iced.”  Sade replied.  “It depends.”

       “And what if you lose the final match?”  Breanne asked, curious, but not yet dissuaded as Melanie seemed to have hoped.

       “You replace the double loser on the chair, until the last client leaves the arena, except they put it on full power.”

       Breanne bit her lip.  “Have you been punished on it?”  She asked pointedly.  Sade nodded.

       “Several times.  Took an hour and twenty three minutes for every client in the arena to finish their dinner and move to the main room, last time I lost.”

       “Did it hurt?” Breanne asked.  Melanie scoffed, rinsing the soap from her body.

       Sade thought about it for a moment.  “Only after my seventh orgasm.  I was getting tender by then.”

       “Oh my God!  Seven?  In an hour and a half?”  Breanne gasped.

       Sade shook her head.  “Oh no, that was in the first hour.  The last half hour I had three more and they were VERY painful.”  She shrugged her shoulders.  “But I did win the next three tournaments and Liz got to experience the chair three times in a row!”

       Melanie turned off the water and reached for a towel, tossing an extra one to Breanne, who wrapped it around her body.  Sade looked cross at Melanie and moved across the shower to the towel rack and picked up one of the white fluffy towels.

       Breanne stood indecisive.  She didn’t want to damage her budding friendships with either woman and for a moment didn’t know what to do.  She turned toward Melanie.  “Melanie, I really appreciate you making sure I knew what I was getting into.  I know I’m new and I need to have things explained to me, but I also think that Sade would have told me everything before getting me into this.  You just made her tell me today instead of on Friday morning.”  Melanie smiled.

       “But I’m also going to go ahead and at least practice with Sade and see how I do.  Maybe she is right and who knows, I might be a natural!  And I don’t like the two of you arguing.  I’m friends with you both and it tears me up inside to see you two arguing.”  Melanie’s smile faded and Sade grinned.

       Melanie shrugged her shoulders.  “As long as you know what you’re getting into, Bre.  That’s all I care about.  Sade is very strong willed and I’ve known her to sucker girls into that wrestling ring.”  Melanie looked at Sade with a stern glare.  “But you are right, we should get along.”  Then Melanie laughed. “And we should get out cute little butts back out into the main room and earn some more money.”  She turned and gave a little smile to Sade.  “You too, you dark sultry beauty.”

       Sade laughed and then moved right up to Melanie, wrapping her arms around her, giving her a hug that seemed to envelop the brunette girl tightly.  “That’s right, girls.  Let’s get out there and pillage the men!”

Chapter 9: 

       When Breanne, Melanie, and Sade stepped into the main lounge dressed to the nines, there was a momentary hush that was easily heard despite the music.  Breanne had discarded the schoolgirl look in favor of a blue dress that plunged at the neck line down to her navel, keeping her breasts covered by only two long swaths of cloth that tied behind her neck.  Sade was in red, a stunning color that seemed to make her skin glow.  But it was Melanie who attracted the eye.

       Breanne’s eyes had widened when she saw the outfit Melanie had selected and had wondered why she would choose something so revealing, especially considering the condition of her skin.  The shower had done nothing to hide the bright red stripes across her bottom and breasts, though the bright pink coloring had faded a bit.  Melanie had chosen a cream colored gauze blouse that could easily be seen through, and that seemed to highlight her coloring.  The skirt that swirled around her came all the way down to her ankles, but since she wore nothing underneath, her nudity was only enhanced, and the redness of her bottom was as easily seen as that on her breasts.

       But the attention Melanie received explained to Breanne the brunette girl’s choice in attire more surely than any verbal answer Melanie had given.  The men in the room could see that Melanie had suffered, and were aroused by it.  Breanne’s own torment, while assuredly as abusive as that endured by Melanie, was mostly internal, and to all intents and appearances, looked as if she were as fresh as a newly risen daisy. 

       As they made their way across the floor, Breanne noticed William Price moving toward her, his face beaming.

       “You look absolutely stunning, Breanne.  I’m especially pleased to see you dressed so elegant.”  He grinned.  “I admit that I am more impressed with your beauty now, in this outfit, than in any little schoolgirl uniform you could wear.” 

       “Well thank you Sir.”  Breanne said, smiling.

       Price nodded.  “By the way, one of our clients has asked if you might be available Saturday morning to assist him in our gym.  He plans to work out for two hours, starting at ten.  Do you think you might be interested?” 

       “What exactly do I have to do?  Just keep him company?”  She asked.

       Price shook his head.  “Not exactly, though the thought of keeping company with you is certainly an added bonus.”  He chuckled.  “No actually, we have a certain number of very specially designed, custom, pieces of exercise equipment.  You will assist the client in using these machines.  Once you get there, your client will direct you on what exactly he needs you to do.”

       Breanne nodded.  “I get paid for this, right?”  Price nodded immediately.

       “Sorry, I keep forgetting you are new!  Yes.  The going rate is a thousand dollars an hour and you keep all of it.  The membership dues pay for the use of the gym.  It’s not like an auction however.  It is entirely likely that you will service the client sexually, but the client is limited to what he can do to you by the nature of the gym equipment.  Not to mention there may be other clients in the room, as well as some of our other ladies.  The gym is open to the staff here at any time and there are regular exercise machines as well as the special stuff.”

       Breanne shrugged.  “Sure.  I can be here about nine thirty.  Do I need to wear anything special?”  She asked.

       Price shook his head.  “No.  You will be nude for the duration of your services.  Oh, and by the way, I took the liberty of having one of our valets move your car from the front entrance. It completely slipped my mind.  When you are ready to leave tonight, just ask for Raul and he will bring it up.”

       Breanne smiled.  “Thank you very much, Mr. Price.  I will.”  She nodded as Price bowed slightly and moved away toward the main stage.

       Melanie turned toward her.  “What was that all about?”  She asked, motioning toward Price who had moved into the disc jockey’s booth.

       Breanne shrugged.  “Somebody wants me to assist them exercising on Saturday morning and he wanted to know if I was interested.”

       Melanie nodded.  “That should be interesting.  I’ve never had the opportunity to use that stuff.  I’ve seen if of course.”  She paused, hesitating just a moment.  “Would you mind if I came and watched?  I’ll do my workout routine and keep an eye on things at the same time.”

       “Of course you can!  In fact, I’d like it if you were there.”  Breanne paused.  “Oh!  I just thought of something.”

       “What?”  Melanie asked.

       “The client!  It’s probably Richard.”

       Melanie’s eyes widened.  “You mean the guy that bought me after losing you?  The guy who whipped you at the spa?”

       Breanne nodded.

       Melanie shrugged.  “Well, I don’t see a problem.  He took me because we were friends and he was pissed about losing you to Keel.”  She frowned.  “He got me much cheaper than he would have paid for you.  I only went for three grand.”

       “Oh!  Melanie!  I’m sorry!”  Breanne said, aghast at how little Melanie had been sold for.

       Melanie shrugged.  “Hey, you won’t be seeing ten thousand dollar auctions all that much.  It’s a grace period, like a politician’s honeymoon.  After about a month, those days are over.  The clients want new meat, or specialized attractions.  Things will settle down, though I admit your eagerness will keep make you attractive for a bit longer.”

       Breanne looked around for Sade, but found that the black girl was leading a client to the private rooms in the back.  “So what’s your specialty, Melanie?”

       Melanie shrugged.  “I really don’t have one.  I’m an all around girl.  You know, the girl next door type.”  She laughed.  “Usually I make up in quantity what girls like you get in quality.”

       “And Sade?”  Breanne asked, nodding after the disappearing girl.

       Melanie chuckled.  “She’s a dominatrix and a wrestler.  The winners at the wrestling matches make huge amounts of money.  Plus they get gifts from sponsors and stuff.  The girls who are good at it make a ton of money.”

       Breanne smiled.  “You forgot to mention that part when we were discussing it with Sade.” 

       “Oh?  Did I?”  Melanie asked.

       “What do you have against her?”  Breanne asked as they started threading their way through the crowd.

       Melanie grinned.  “Sade snookered me into wrestling my first week here, and she DIDN’T tell me what I was in store for, nor did she give me any training.  I spent three hours in that chair, screaming my head off, while Sade tromped through the other contestants below me.  I quit wrestling that night.”

       Breanne looked aghast.  “You’re kidding!  How could she be that awful?  And what do you mean be ‘below you’?”

       “After you’re mounted into the chair, it’s raised up on chains so that it dangles above the arena pit.  You’re totally on display and any noise you make is just atmosphere.  As to why she was mean, well…to be honest, I stole a client out from under her.”  She smiled sheepishly.

       “On purpose?”  Breanne asked.

       Melanie nodded.  “Come on.  Let’s find ourselves some marks.”

       Breanne laughed and followed Melanie.  They weaved their way through a number of the tables but were unable to find two gentlemen sitting together, so they split up.  Breanne wandered over to the bar, while Melanie was snagged by a customer who wanted to examine the welts on her body. 

       “Good evening, Ms. Erikson.  Can I buy you a drink?”  A thick voice asked, causing Breanne to turn to her right.  For a moment she stood, gaping at the small balding man that stood before her. 

       He chuckled.  “That is a very unbecoming expression, my dear.  You certainly did not spend your days in my tenth grade History class with your mouth open like a fish.”  He said.

       “Mr. Mason?”  Breanne asked, her voice still filled with astonishment.

       “The very same.  I’m glad you remember me.  Except that its doctor now.  I finished my PhD.  I don’t teach high school anymore either.  So, how about that drink?”  Dr. Mason asked.

       “Yes.  I’d like that.  Gin and tonic please.” 

       The man nodded and waved over the bartender.  “A gin and tonic for the lady and a glass of mead for me.”  Dr. Mason looked back at Breanne.

       “I admit that I imagined what it would be like to encounter one of my students in such a place as this, but to be honest, I never imagined it would be you.  You were one of my best students.  I seem to remember you earning straight As in my class.”

       Breanne shrugged, her face in a sad smile.  “I still am a straight A student, Mr. Mason.  I mean…professor.”  She said as the bartender pushed her gin and tonic across the counter to her. 

       “Let’s just say that I’ve become more worldly and discovered some things about myself that I had to explore.”  Her voice sounded oddly confidant.

       Professor Mason picked up a small wine glass filled with a honey colored liquid and sipped it, nodding.  “Yes, I can understand that.”                

“What does that taste like?”  Breanne suddenly asked, nodding at the mead filled glass.

       “It is very smooth, and quite sweet.” He said holding the glass up.  “Here, have a taste.”  He held the glass up to her lips.

       Breanne took a small sip and her eyes widened.  “Gosh that’s good, but I shouldn’t have any more.  I could very easily forget how much I’ve had with that.”

       The small man chuckled.  “Yes that is a problem; in fact it was a problem during the medieval times as well.  I admit that I’ve discovered the same thing in myself, which is why I always try to drink in moderation.”

       “So you are still teaching history, Dr. Mason?”  Breanne asked.

       He laughed, nodding.  “I am a professor of Medieval History at the University.”  He said it like a pronouncement.

       “Well that’s great Professor.  How long have you been teaching there?” 

       “Two years.  I’m loving it.  The students who take my class truly enjoy it.  Do you know anything about Medieval history, my dear?”  Dr. Mason inquired, his mead seeming to loosen his tongue just a bit.

       Breanne shook her head, afraid she was going to get a lecture.  “Not really.  Even when I was in your high school class, history was never my cup of tea.  It always was memorizing a bunch of dates and parroting them out for the tests.  Though I have to admit, your tests weren’t like that.”

       Mason shook his head, suddenly irate.  “I know exactly what you mean.  Too many of my colleagues do exactly the same thing.  They forget that history is a story.”  He sighed.  “But at least my knowledge has enabled me to enjoy your company this evening.”

       Breanne shook her head.  “What do you mean sir?”  She asked.

       Mason waved his hand in the air.  “Well, I was the historical advisor to the Locke on several of their upstairs rooms.  They wanted them as authentic as possible while still maintaining functionality, cleanliness, and sterility.  It was quite a challenge.”

       “Really?”  Breanne asked.  She remembered Sade mentioning two of the upstairs rooms being decorated like dungeons.  

       “Absolutely.  In fact, I had to practically build some of the equipment upstairs from scratch.  I don’t suppose you’ve seen it, have you?”  His face brightened for a moment and then he laughed.  “Of course, if you had, you would have more than seen it, wouldn’t you.”

       He gazed at her as Breanne sipped her drink.  “You are so exquisite.  I can just imagine…”  He seemed lost in thought.  “I wonder if tonight would be a good night…”  He seemed to be talking to himself, but then turned back toward her.  “Will you be going up for auction tonight, dear lady?” 

       Breanne was suddenly taken aback, a little surprised at his question, but as a client of the Locke, just as entitled to purchase her as anyone else. “I’m not sure sir.  Tonight has been my first night and I’ve already been auctioned off once.  If I am auctioned off again, I imagine it will be much later in the evening.”

       Professor Mason nodded.  “Well, then I will wait to see if you go up on the block.  At my age, I can certainly wait, and my credit is very good here.”  He broke into a knowing grin and then bowed.  “Enjoy your drink, Ms. Erikson.” 

       To Breanne’s surprise he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone at the bar.  For a moment she just stood, finishing her drink, when the space vacated by Dr. Mason was filled with a large man in a tuxedo.  He turned a set of piercing eyes on her and nodded, his dark hair a little long.

       “So you must be Breanne.  Price was telling me about you.”  He held out a calloused hand, huge.  “Welcome to the Locke.”  He said.

       Breanne’s palm was swallowed in the huge paw of the hulk beside her.  Before she could say anything the man continued.

       “I’m David Trottman, general manager of the Locke.”  He said.

       “Oh!  I’m pleased to meet you.”  Breanne said, her voice suddenly quaking.  She wished Price had made an effort to introduce her to the manager.

       “Oh don’t worry about me.  I’m an old teddy bear.  I look gruff, but it’s only because I have to yell at the housekeeping staff and the valets.”  He chuckled slightly. 

       “By the way, I overheard Raul boasting that he had your car keys and was going to ask for a special tip to return them to you.  If you have any problems, just tell him to let you have them, or you will go get me to get them for you.  I don’t tolerate that kind of malarkey.  I don’t forbid inter-staff contact, but I won’t have them force you into anything.  At the Locke, the girls come first.  Every man here is supposed to be sworn to protecting your honor, your person, and your personality.”  He finished, thumping his hand on the bar counter.

       Breanne grinned.  Mr. Trottman seemed so assertive she couldn’t help chuckling slightly.  All he needed was a walrus mustache and a monocle and he could have been Teddy Roosevelt.  She reached out and patted his arm.  It seemed the right response.

       “Thank you very much, Sir.  I will certainly let you know if Raul’s demands for the return of my car keys are more than I’m willing to pay.”  She said, her smile beaming.

       Trottman nodded, beaming at her, his chest puffing.  “Excellent.  I like a girl with spirit.  I watched your initiation with the ice and the hot wax.  Incredible, I must say.  Wouldn’t mind taking you upstairs sometime, myself.”  He grinned.

       Breanne’s face split into a beaming seductive smile.  “Anytime, Mr. Trottman.  Say the word and I can be in your office in a heartbeat.”

       Trottman’s eyes widened and he laughed, a heart guffaw that seemed loud, even in the dull roar of the main lounge.  Breanne knew she had taken exactly the right tone with the general manager.

       “Ahh…here comes young William.”  He said, pointing out Price as the tall man hurried over.

       “Breanne?  Have you met…” he said rapidly.  Trottman cut him off.

       “Nonsense William.  Breanne introduced herself quite nicely to me.  Excellent hire William.  You’ve outdone yourself again.  I think she will earn as much as Sade or Tiffany, easily.”  Trottman turned back toward Breanne.  “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go check on the kitchens.”

       The large man moved away from the bar, neither hurried nor leisurely, moving through the sea of tables like a battleship parting the first waves of a growing storm.

       William Price ran his fingers through his hair, a little ruffled.  “Well, it’s not how I would have introduced you to the boss, but I suppose your natural charm won through.”  He looked down at his watch.  “You do know you are scheduled to dance in like nine minutes, right?”

       Breanne’s eyes widened.  “No!  Oh my gosh!  No one told me!”

       Price shook his head and pointed to one of the small LCD screens on the bar.  “See the monitor? It’s a touch screen.  Just press the small lock icon in the top right corner.”

       Breanne reached over the counter, turning the small computer monitor to face her and touched the small gold lock picture.  The screen faded from its cashier mode and brought up a menu with  more icons ranging from the Valet Service, to Ladies.  She didn’t even ask, pressing the Ladies icon.  From there she had several choice, and she immediately noticed the dance schedule, as well as the auction schedule posted.  Sure enough, she was scheduled to dance in minutes.  The screen flashed on the name of the girl who was currently on the main stage.

       “Convenient.”  She murmured.  She scrolled over to the auction schedule and saw that the last auction on the board was listed for nine thirty.  Scanning the program, she saw the “add” button, quickly putting her name down for a second auction.

       “Are you sure about that?”  Price asked, concern in his voice.  “Your first experience with an auction was rather intense.  Mr. Keel’s torments are very unique.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Yes, I’m sure.  Besides, I’ve already been told that there is interest.”

       Price looked pleased.  “Really?  Well that’s great.  Usually, by the end of the night, most of the clients who wanted to purchase an entertainer has already.  Tonight’s crowd is a little small, so I’m glad you think you’ve got a shot at it.”

       “Well, I need to make sure I’m ready to dance, right?”  She grinned and exited out of the computer system, letting it go back to the bar’s cashier screen.  She leaned over to Price and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before whirling around and heading over toward the stage door.

       The moment she was backstage, she quickly looked over the assortment of accessories, but couldn’t find what she wanted.  For a moment, she wandered around the dressing room, threading her way through several of the girls.  She recognized Ashley, the girl who had ridden the clothespin cart earlier in the evening, who was blow drying her hair.  Breanne approached her, politely tapping her on the shoulder.

       “Do you have any more of this?”  Breanne asked loudly, over the whirring dryer, pointing at the joint where the electric cord met the handle of the hair dryer.

       Ashley looked perplexed but nodded, not even bothering to turn the dryer off.  She opened the vanity drawer and pulled out a small roll handing it to Breanne.  Bre grinned, said thanks, and quickly moved away.

       It took only a few moments, but she was standing backstage just as the third song ended.  A beautiful tan blonde was coming down the steps nude, a silly grin on her face, her assorted clothes bundled under her arm.  She spied Breanne and nodded.  “Good luck.”  She said.

       Breanne nodded and climbed the steps.  Her heart thumped a few times as the music started up and she heard the disc jockey calling out her name.

       “And now gentleman, I’d like you to welcome her back up on stage tonight, the beautiful, the sultry, the nubile, the perfect red haired goddess herself, Breanne!”

       She stepped out on stage.  It was very different from the dark quite room she had seen before when she danced for William Price, and the other two times she had been on the main stage had both been so busy and so new, that she hadn’t taken the time to see the lights, or check how they were positioned.

       Breanne did so now, slowly swaying, moving her body forward.  It took only a moment for her to get the pulse of the lights, understanding which ones turned on when.  She adjusted her dancing so that her breasts and bottom were clearly visible, as if the dance had been specially choreographed with the music and lights to give her the best showing possible.

       The blue dress she was still wearing swirled around her legs, flying up at her thighs as she danced.  The music had a heavy, exotic beat, and she found herself strutting across the stage, the hem of her dress moving like a runaway rollercoaster.  The rapt faces of the men closest to the stage were enough to encourage her and she dropped to her knees, sliding her body backward across the stage, the bottom of her dress sliding upward toward her bottom.

       But she was too experienced to let her audience see something they shouldn’t.  At least, not at that point.  She rolled across the stage, slipping easy into a stance where she could rise, her body gyrating and twisting, swinging her hips as she moved shamelessly with the music.

       When the song faded she froze.  Breanne had danced before and knew that the dance was advertising.  It was the first sight of a girl many of the men in the audience would have, and depending on who would come up and who watched, a girl could tell who she should approach for a private dance. 

       The second song began, a different style from the first, and Bre automatically switched dance styles.  The second song was a balland, slow and sensual, and her body moved differently.  Her beaming smile betrayed her pleasure at being up on the stage, every eye in the lounge on her.  She turned around, her back to the audience, as she reached up to her neck.  With deft fingers, she unclasped the halter of the dress, letting it fall as her fingers came quickly down to cover her breasts.

       She turned back around, the blue dress draped at her waist, her hands crossed across her chest.  There was a murmur as the men expressed their appreciation of her exquisite body, but more of her dancing ability.  She rocked her hips, twisting, and then began to move her hands.

       They were expecting to see her bare breasts.  Usually the second dance was done in bra and panties, but the men had seen the dropping cleavage of her dress and had known that no brassier held up her firm curves.  But to their surprise, two wide black strips of tape were positioned across each nipple, covering her breasts like two electrician’s pasties.  She put her hands behind her head and suddenly moved her hips back and forth, swinging the dress enough that it fell off her hips, puddling on the floor around her high heels.

       There were more gasps from the audience as they saw another strip of black tape.  This one went straight across her sex, almost from hip to hip, in a wide three inch strip.  It was a perfect rendition of the old sex posters where small pieces of black had obscured the private perfection of the featured performer.

       And Breanne danced.  She took advantage of her bare bottom, turning round frequently to swing it, baring it.  At one point she wished that she had endured Melanie’s hour, so that her own bottom would be striped.  When the song ended she moved to the very front of the stage, kneeling and leaning out over one of the table, her dangling breasts in touching distance of the gentleman seated there.

       As the third song began, she reached out to him, motioning him closer.  He leaned in, a silly grin on his face and she took his hand, bringing it up to her left breast.  For a moment he stroked her silky flesh, his fingers moving around the plastic strip.  But it took only a whispered word or two for him to understand her intent.  His nails moved under the plastic and he yanked, pulling it quickly from her body.

       The crowd went crazy, cheering as her nipple pulled and stretched and then came clear of the sticky tape.  The man held it up, like a trophy, as Breanne moved away.  Once more she swirled around the stage, moving to the other side of the dais, finding another man who knew exactly what to do.  He reached up, tugging at her left breast, the black strip of electrician’s tape coming off easily.  Another cheer from the crowd came as she, swayed, her hips moving in opposite directions than her shoulders.  She moved forward once again, choosing the table in the very front of the stage.

       It was Mason.  The balding professor had taken a seat at the very front table during her dance, his eyes glued to her body.  She didn’t hesitate at all as she kneeled, her loins spread, her legs splayed wide apart.  She nodded to the little man who reached up, his fingers delicately pulling at the tape.  One end came loose in his hand and he began to pull, slowly, watching as the skin under the tape tugged upward before separating from the adhesive.

       Breanne gasped when the tape was pulled from her clit and labia, the loose flesh of her sex, sticking to the underside of the tape.  The crowd seemed to enjoy it as Dr. Mason removed the last covering, baring her body perfectly to the demanding crowd.  As soon as it had fallen, she twirled on the stage, her legs parting as she spread her flower for everyone in the room to see.

       Soon she was up on her feet again, her legs moving outward as she finished the song.  A few more dramatic exposures, her bottom in the air, prepared the audience for the finale, a dramatic leap that ended with her in the splits, the pink strip of her womanhood visible, wet, and gaping.

       “My God!  What a performance that was!”  The disc jockey said, his voice astonished.  “I think we’ve been graced, gentleman, to have such an accomplished lady in our midst.  Let’s give a round of applause for our very own sex goddess, Lady Breanne!”

       It was thunderous, and Breanne flushed in pleasure as she slowly stood up.  Turning with a smile thrown over her shoulder, she quickly snatched up her fallen dress, and then waved to the crowd as she disappeared down the back steps of the stage.

       William Price was arguing with a pretty raven haired girl, dressed in black, when Breanne came into the dressing room.

       “I am not following that, Will.  I don’t care what you say.  Put someone else on.  After that performance anything I do will look stupid.”

       “Now look Dana, you know how this works.  I can’t change the schedule because you don’t want to follow Breanne.  Now you need to get up on stage and dance.

       Dana crossed her arms.  “No way.  Do an auction or something.  I don’t want to follow her.”

       Price looked at his watch.  “There isn’t another auction scheduled for twenty five minutes and I’m not calling Cristal off the floor early for it.  So get up on the stage.”

       Dana glared at him.  “Auction her off then!”  She said, pointing at Breanne.  “I saw she was scheduled for another auction anyway.  Get her sold off so that she isn’t distracting the men when I dance.”  Dana glared at Breanne, who shrank backward behind Price.

       “Dana, I understand your objection, but Breanne will be on the minor stage.  I’ll have Michael lower the lights on that one so all the focus is on the main stage.  Please.  Just get up there.”  He held out his hands.

       “Forget it.”  Dana said, turning away and stomping off.

       For a moment Price lost his temper.  “Dana Garon, if you walk away from me I’ll dock you twenty percent of your next sale!”  He shouted to the angry girl’s back.  Dana paused for just a moment and then continued, exiting the dressing room out into the administration hallway.

       “Damn.”  Price swore, then turned back toward Breanne with an embarrassed look.  “I didn’t exactly foresee this happening.”

       Breanne looked upset.  “Do you want me to do another set?  I don’t mind.”  She said, trying to help.

       Price shook his head.  “No, I saw a couple of the other girls looking just as irritable as Dana.”  He sighed.  “Would you mind being sold again?”  He asked.  Breanne shook her head.

       “Great.  Let me tell Mike and he can get things set up.”  Price disappeared out into the lounge, leaving Breanne standing naked at the backstage stairs.

       “Gentlemen, do we have a treat in store for you!” Mike’s voice came out over the loud speakers.  “After seeing Lady Breanne dance, the house is going to give you a special treat, the opportunity to buy the luscious body and make it groove to your personal tune.  Yes, guys, the goddess herself is up for sale.  Do you have the power and wealth to bring the temple to you?  Or will you be another admirer who can only worship from afar?”

       Breanne winced, knowing that an introduction like that wouldn’t make Dana or any of the other girls happier.  Price suddenly reappeared, pulled the blue dress out of her arms, and quickly bound her wrists together, this time behind her back.  It took only seconds and then Price propelled her out onto the stage, the glaring lights caressing her naked body.

       “Gentlemen, this beautiful addition to the Locke is up for the second time tonight!  After seeing her dance, no doubt every one of you will want to sample that charm, that grace, that beauty.  Her last sale price was an even ten thousand dollars, so be prepared gentlemen, this lady is expensive!”  Price said, his hand grasping the microphone.

       Breanne moved forward, dropping to her knees on the auction block.  She wondered how Price had managed to get the stage set up when she realized that the auction block was nothing more than a portion of the stage that could be raised and lowered by Mike the disc jockey, whenever there was a need.  She smiled, pleased she had figured out that small enigma as she spread her legs, crossing her ankles.

       Once more Price read out Breanne’s vital statistics, once more getting a murmur when he announced house limits only.  Breanne winced, wondering whether she would have an opportunity to talk with Price about changing her limits.

       “We’ll start the opening bid at the normal sale price of one thousand dollars.”  He announced.  The bidding started rapidly, moving upward faster than Breanne could keep track of. 

       “Yes, fifteen hundred, do I see…yes twenty, and there is twenty five.  Do I have thirty?  Thank you sir, three thousand do I have thirty five hundred?  Thank you, thirty five, do I have…forty, forty five?  Forty five to the gentlemen in the back.  Fifty, that’s five thousand here at the front.  Do I have fifty five?  I see a hand raised there, that’s fifty five, ah yes up to sixty back to the front.  Do I have sixty five?  Gentlemen, this is the goddess Breanne!  Look at the perfect form!  Look at those breasts!  Imagine how they would feel pressed into your face!  Do I have sixty five? YES!  There sixty five hundred for the lovely Lady Breanne.  Do I have…Seventy right here at the front table.  Seventy five hundred?  Seven thousand five hundred, gentlemen?  Going once for seven grand, going twice!  Sold to the gentlemen at table three!” 

       Breanne looked down and heart leapt as Dr. Mason stood, nodding and grinning.  One of the wait staff, dressed in dark velvet led him toward the back stairs.  The lights on the stage dimmed and Breanne felt Price’s hand on her arm.

       “Come on, Bre.  Lets get you upstairs and out of Dana’s sight for awhile.”  Together, the exited the stage, walking through the dressing room and Price opened the door to the administrative hall.  Melanie, rushing up almost ran into them. 

       “You sold her?  How could you sell her again so soon, Price!  She can’t possibly be ready for another hour!”  Melanie glared at the harried entertainment director.  Price let out an explosive breath.

       “Find out what room Mason chooses and escort Breanne upstairs, Melanie.  I have to get the schedule corrected and back on track.”  He turned and reentered the dressing room, heading back toward the stage.

       Melanie sighed and shook her head, staring after the tall man.  She looked at Breanne, who stood quietly, hands bound behind her back. 

       “So where did you learn to dance like that?”  She asked.

       Breanne blushed.  “Jo Ellen’s Dance Connection actually.  I took dance lessons when I was a girl.”

       Melanie chuckled.  “Well, you’re going to hear about it again, but there are some very jealous ladies out on the floor right now, all trying to convince their marks that they are as good as you.”  She shook her head and motioned for Breanne to move toward the back stairwell.  “And how did you get Mike to start calling you ‘goddess’ and ‘lady’?”  She asked.

       “Uh…I didn’t.  I mean, I didn’t ask or anything.”  Breanne stammered as Melanie held open the door. 

       “Sure.  Okay.”  Melanie said as they moved up the tiled stairs.  “How about that old geezer that bought you?  Think he’ll survive?  He looks like he might fall over just from you touching him.”

       Breanne shook her head.  “No, Mr. Mason…I mean, Dr. Mason will probably handle things just fine.”

       “Do you know him?”  Melanie asked.

       “He was my tenth grade history teacher.”  Breanne looked at Melanie ruefully.

       “Oh my GOD!  Are you serious?”  Melanie asked, shocked.

       Breanne nodded.

       “That is so creepy!  I can’t believe you’re going to fuck your old high school history teacher!  Oh my God!”  Melanie shivered.

       “It’s not like I have a choice, Mel.  Remember?”  Breanne turned wiggling her fingers so that Melanie noticed her bound state.

       “Right, sorry.  It’s just…I can’t imagine what it would be like if any of my own teachers showed up.  Let’s see…”  She turned to small glass monitor like the one on the bar.  Breanne hadn’t noticed it before on her first trip.

       “Okay, your client is waiting for you in room seven.  That’s one of the dungeon rooms. ”  Melanie said, suddenly not so hyper.

       “I expected it.”  Breanne said.  “He’s a professor of medieval history.”

       Melanie frowned.  “Those two rooms are pretty extreme, girl.  They’ve got racks and everything.  The only thing missing are the hot irons and that spiked coffin, what do you call it…uh…an iron maiden thingy.  Oh, by the way, take off your high heels.”  Melanie said.  Bre nodded, quickly removing her shoes and handing them to Melanie.  The pretty brunette took Breanne’s arm and led her down the hallway.

Chapter 10:  The Dungeon

       Room seven was halfway down the hall and they paused in front of it while Melanie knocked politely and opened the door.  For a moment, the darkness in the room made it hard for Breanne to see as Melanie pushed her inside.  As the door shut, Breanne was able to distinguish the size of the room, along with several glass encased lamps that flickered as if they were old fashioned lamps burning oil.

       Dr. Mason was sitting behind a heavy wooden table, rough hewn, draped head to foot in a brown monk’s robe.  His bald head seemed totally appropriate here.  A heavy metal rosary was pulled through the hemp belt he wore and his fingers were folded as if in prayer. 

       “Breanne Erikson.  You are brought here before our Lord to answer the charge of witchcraft and heresy, which has been made against you.  How do you plead?”  Dr. Mason asked, his voice heavy and monotonous. 

       Breanne hesitated.  She barely remembered the stories she had heard of the witch trials of the dark ages, but she remembered that the accused seem to lose no matter which way they pled.  As her eyes adjusted she was able to make out the rack, a wooden pony, a St. Andrew’s cross, and a wall full of whips and floggers, along with several other odd shaped instruments.

       Suddenly smiling, Breanne decided to indulge Dr. Mason’s little fantasy.  She glared at him, getting into the spirit of the moment.

       “I declare myself innocent, a true daughter of the church!”  Breanne said, her voice ringing righteously.

       Mason stood, his face angry, yet his eyes betraying his pleasure at her response.  “Yet I myself have witnessed your heresy, as you have encouraged others to call you goddess!  You place yourself above the LORD!”  His hand swung, slapping her bare breasts hard. 

       Breanne cried out, unprepared for the physical assault.  Her left breast stung where Mason had struck her and she bent over, leaning away from her attacker.  He reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushed her toward the St. Andrew’s cross.  She stumbled, but he kept her upright, twisting her around roughly and pushing her bottom up against the center of the “X” frame.  A small knife appeared and he slit the binding twine that held her hands. 

       She could have resisted, but she didn’t, allowing him to bind her wrists in the heavy leather cuffs that were attached to the top of the frame.  It took him only moments to do the same to her ankles, spreading her legs and arms to match the outstretched limbs of the “X”.

       The gag surprised her, a thick twisted rag of white cotton went around her head and was quickly tied, her teeth sinking into the spiraled cloth.  Mason grinned at her, his eyes glinting in an evil desire as he removed a small metal object from one of the inner pockets of his robe.

       “Do you know what this is?”  He asked, holding it up in front of her eyes.  She looked at the shiny metal fruit shaped item and shook her head.

       “It’s called a pear.” Dr. Mason said, unconsciously switching into his lecturing voice.  “The original pears used in the medieval ages were gruesome torture instruments.  By turning the key, the pear opened up inside the victim, tearing their insides with sharp metal spikes.  Since pears were rarely kept clean, infection quickly followed, then death.”  He looked at Breanne, checking to see if she was paying attention.

       “Obviously, we can’t do that now, so part of my job was to change the nature of many of the medieval torture devices into non-lethal toys that could still inflict torture on the victim.”  He grinned and leaned forward.  “This one now delivers a painful electric shock while vibrating.”  His hand moved down low and Breanne cringed, feeling the cold metal applied to the slightly spread and very damp petals of her sex.

       “Of course, I did consult with a gynecologist, to see how big we could make the pear, and what kind of spread we could give it before causing actual damage.  I was surprised with just how much room is in there.”  Breanne shuddered as he pushed it into her body, the coldness of it causing her to grimace.  As the bitter object seated itself, she felt Mason touching the small metal turnkey that stuck out between her legs.  There was a strange sensation inside her, of the small pear expanding.  Then she cried out as the electrical shock hit her, followed by the vibration.

       “Excellent.”  Mason said, looking at her wild eyes as her hips thrust madly.  Every few moments another shock hit her.  He stood watching for a minute before pulling a wicked looking switch made of some thin wood from a small barrel. 

       “I noticed your friend, Melanie showing off her stripes.  I think I’d like to give you a set that matches.”  He pulled back his arm and swung.

       Fire exploded across Breanne’s breasts, a deep pain that radiated upward from her bosom to her head.  She screamed through the gag, her head rolling back as a thin red welt appeared across both breasts, perfectly centered over each nipple.  Mason didn’t waste much time.  He let loose another swing almost as soon as her scream ended, this time landing a perfect smack across the underside of both breasts. 

       Breanne pulled hard against the leather bonds holding her.  If she had been free, she would have covered her body, fleeing.  Her eyes flashed in wild desperation as Mason swung again, landing a third blow across the upper slope of her breasts.  Three matching lines traversed her bosom, like latitude lines crossing a globe.  She groaned, her breasts throbbing in time with the shocks and vibration from the pear.

       Mason smacked her again, this time landing a somewhat softer blow on her right breast.  She jumped, her body thrashing in protest to the painful line of pain.  Several fast strikes, like drum beats against her nipple had her screaming, while her flesh turned beet red.  He moved to the other side, again using targeted blows to turn her left breast into the same deep shade of pink, crossed over and over with red lines.

       Everything hurt.  Breanne’s breath came in ragged gasps, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks to soak into the twisted cloth that muted her screams.  Her loins had taken on a life of their own, thrusting out in response to every new shock as her breasts throbbed with heat.

       Dr. Mason stepped back, admiring his handiwork as Breanne slowly began to calm down.  He moved away, dropping the thin switch back into the barrel, much to Breanne’s relief.  It wasn’t until he stepped up to a glowing brazier with a hot iron cooking inside it that she tensed, suddenly frightened for the first time.

       Mason could sense the change in Breanne and held up his hand.  “Don’t worry, Bre.  I know the rules.  See?  This brazier is actually iron charcoal with a red light underneath.”  He reached down and put both hands on the burning coals, much to Breanne’s relief.  He laughed and pulled the hot iron out of the fire, as Breanne grunted with the pain of another electrical shock.

       “Actually, this was much easier to design than some of the other items.  It’s just a black plastic stick that is thinner at the tip with a red light inside of it, to simulate the glowing heat of a hot iron.  But there is actually two small metal tips on the end that can deliver another electrical shock like the one you are experiencing right now inside you.”  He approached with his hot iron.  “Except I can press this anywhere I want on your body.”

Breanne cringed, trying to shrink away from the approaching sadist.  The glowing tip of the iron came up, zeroing in directly on her right nipple.  It was as if she had been burned.  A terrible jolt passed through her flesh, puckering her already swollen nipple, forcing a soundless cry from her lips.  Her entire body tensed, her toes curling as Mason moved the hot iron to her other breast.

       He stood there shocking her, moving the hot iron from one point to another on her body.  From her right nipple he went to her navel, and then to her clit, then to her side, just under her arm.  Her hands were next, then back to her nipples.  He moved down her body until he actually knelt, moving the tip of the hot iron under the soles of her feet, the last two shocks delivered to her delicate arches.

       Breanne hung on the St. Andrew’s cross, her body twitching and sore.  Her breasts had lost none of their red tinge and beads of perspiration covered her body.  Mason put the hot iron back into the glowing brazier and moved back toward his victim.  Spinning some sort of wooden handle allowed the St. Andrew’s cross to suddenly rotate, Breanne barely noticed until she was upside down, the blood rushing to her head.

       To her relief, the first thing Mason did was remove the pear.  Its vibrating shocking hulk was turned off and slowly extracted.  It was covered in the slick juices of her body.  Her thighs trembled as it popped out, once more contracted into its smallest state.  As Mason leaned over her, she could feel the hard shape of his cock bumping into her cheek.

       Mason evidently had the same thought, for in moments the front of the robe opened and his thick shaft was presented for her to suck.

       “Suck on me, Breanne, or I’ll punish that little pussy of yours.”  Dr. Mason said, his voice urgent with need. 

       Breanne opened her mouth, but was too tired to do more than allow Mason to pump in and out.  It was hard as well, not having her hands, and as he drove deeper and deeper she gagged. 

       “Use your tongue, bitch!”  Mason cried, one hand grasping her thigh while the other reached up to her clit.  His fingers began toying with her nub, pinching, squeezing and sliding through the wet petals of her swollen pussy.

       She did her best and was rewarded with the musty salt cream of her former high school history teacher pouring into her mouth.  She tried to swallow, but the position made it too difficult and some leaked out, dribbling from her lips in shallow trickles that ended up in her eyes and hair.

       Finally Mason pulled his limp member from her mouth, sighing lustily.  He gave the cross another spin and moved her back upright.  Breanne blinked away some of white cream in her eyes and moaned as the blood rushed out of her head.

       Dr. Mason stood admiring her body, his exposed member pulsing slightly.  He lifted his left arm, checking a wrist watch that seemed oddly out of place in the dark dungeon.  Finally, he nodded at himself, apparently deciding what would come next.

       He moved forward, unbuckling Breanne’s dainty ankles from the heavy leather bonds of the St. Andrew’s Cross.  His fingers ran up her body, over the red welts on her breasts and up her arm, until he was able to free her wrists.  She sagged, and he was forced to catch her, holding her up as she dangled over his shoulder.

       “Hmmm…I was going to put you in the stocks, but maybe the rack would be a better choice.”  He said, dragging her across the floor.  Breanne barely recognized the heavy wooden table she was being laid out on, but groaned as Mason rolled her onto her stomach.  His fingers lifted her feet and positioned them in the small circular retainers on one end, securing her tightly.

       Once more he ran his fingers over her body, from heel to shoulder, lingering on her bottom, until he finally secured her wrists, outstretched above her head.  It took only a moment to crank the winch, tightening her body and stretching it along the length of the rack.  Mason stopped when she groaned, her breasts sore and tender as the weight of her upper body pressed down upon them.

       “No doubt you are wondering why you’re on your stomach, when usually you see prisoners on their backs when tortured by the rack.  Well that’s because I’m feeling the need to inflict some serious damage to that cute little butt of yours.  The rack is just a convenient place to keep you secure.”  He pulled out a multi-thonged whip and swished it through the air once. 

       Breanne turned her head just as he raised his arm, bringing the cat-o-nine-tails arcing down upon her dainty bottom.  She cried out, the gag still preventing her from letting loose with a powerful cry, her hips propelling her loins off the table.  Her bottom rocked, thin red stripes streaking across the pale white skin.  Mason swung again, forcing a repeat movement from the abused girl.

       Four more strikes of the whip burned Breanne’s bottom until she sobbed, her chest heaving with the cries, her bottom a flaming mass of crimson heat.  Mason dropped the whip and quickly clambered up on to the rack, straddling her, the hard shaft of his cock pressed to the crack of her ass.

       It stung, but she rolled her hips, allowing Mason to slide downward, the tip of his rod slipping.  For a moment, she thought he was going push it in her bottom, but it went lower, finding the wet and tender hole of her sex.  With a groan, he moved inside her, finally fulfilling one of the fantasies of his high school teaching days.

       “Oh yes, oh god yes, Breanne…” Dr. Mason moaned, his hips thrusting hard against her superheated ass.  She was unable to move, secured into the rack as he took her from behind, her bottom cushioning the bony hips of the small balding man.

       It didn’t take him long and she felt his cock stiffen inside her, throbbing and then shaking.  It was a familiar feeling, one she had felt several times this very night, but the added tenderness, and the knowledge she was being taken by her very own tenth grade history teacher, sent a thrilling sliver of pleasure up through her body, causing her to tense around his shaft.

       For a moment, they laid there, the heavy sound of their breathing filling the dungeon.  Finally Mason propped himself up, extracting his spent member from her depths.  He slid off the rack, donning his robe, before he moved to loose her, savoring the sight of one of his favorite students lying naked, her buttocks crisscrossed with the tell tale stripes of a whipping.

       “Breanne, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that.  I never expected to be able to have one of my former students in this manner, and I can tell you that it was incredible.”  He said as he helped her up, pulling her off the rack.

       Breanne nodded.  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself sir.”  She said, barely able to stand, much less walk.  To her surprise, the door opened and William Price was standing there, a long silk robe in his hands.

       “I’m sorry Dr. Mason, but you took an extra four minutes.  That’s an additional five hundred we have to take from your account.”

       Mason waved.  “It’s no matter.  I would have spent the whole sum just to have this fine young lady.”

       Price nodded, his face in a sculpted smile.  “No doubt.  We have appreciated your work doctor.  I hope you have enjoyed the benefits of our arrangement.”  He held open the robe, allowing Breanne to slowly slip it on.

       Mason nodded.  “Absolutely.  Go on.  Take care of her.  I still have almost half my credit left and I’m sure I will want to use her again some other time.”

       “Yes.  Have a good evening.”  Price said, taking Breanne and helping her down the hall.

       “Well you certainly have had a profitable night.”  Price said, his betraying his bewilderment.  “Dr. Mason isn’t a regular, but after seeing his session with you, I can easily say he is one of our most extreme clients.”

       Breanne looked up at him confused.  “You watched?  I didn’t see you.”  She said as they made it to the staff stairwell.

       “I was watching on the security camera.  We monitor all the sessions with the girls, to make sure that clients don’t go too far.  There have been a few rare cases where a new client isn’t able, in the throes of passion, to distinguish what is against the house rules.  Since there are no safe words for the girls to use, we monitor the sessions.”

       “How often does that happen?”  She asked, concern written all over her face as they walked down the stairs.

       Price shrugged, “Oh, maybe once, twice a year.   It’s actually pretty rare because clients who do that are placed on probation and their membership fee doubles.  We charge a huge amount for the membership fee so they pay attention.”  He looked at her as she winced on the bottom landing.  “Are you okay?”

       Breanne chuckled softly.  “Let’s see, tonight I’ve been sapped, iced, waxed, shocked, whipped, caned, clamped, and penetrated with the most evil dildo in the world, with fucking spikes on it.”  She shook her head.  “Yes, Mr. Price.  I’m fine.  Sore, I admit, but fine.”  She suddenly grinned.  “Have I broken all the records yet?”

       Price laughed.  “Well, you’re tied for a few.  Let’s see…you’re tied for best dancer, number of auctions in a night, and experiencing the most amenities of the Locke in your first week.”

       Breanne nodded.  “So I haven’t broken any records yet.” 

       Price shook his head.  “No, but that’s not what it’s about.”  He glanced at his watch.  “Its a few minutes before midnight and things are quieting down a bit actually.  Most of the clients have already made their purchases, and only a few die hards are still in the lounge.  Why don’t you call it an evening?  Get some rest and recuperate?  Sade mentioned to me that you were meeting her tomorrow morning to train for the wrestling arena.”

       Breanne grimaced.  “That news made its way around fast.”

       Price laughed.  “No, actually Sade had to ask permission first.  We normally don’t open the Locke that early so I had to arrange with the morning crew to let you both in.  It’s not a problem.”  He pushed open the door, leading Breanne out into the Administration Hall.  “So, are you going to head home?”

       Breanne paused for a moment, and then straightened.  “No, actually I think I’m going to find something thin and gauzy like Melanie did and hit the floor.  I can do some private dances and according to Mel, the guys like girls who are striped like this.”  She held her hand up to her bare breasts, the thin red lines still very visible.

       Price nodded.  “I admit that the stripes look fetching on you.”

       Bre smiled.   “So, thanks for the offer, but I’m going to go get dressed now.

       “Your choice.”  Price said, spreading his hands and shrugging.  “Just be careful and don’t push too much, okay?  The weekend is usually even busier, with lots more opportunities.”

       Breanne smiled and gave him a wink as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ dressing room and went inside.

Chapter 11:  Practice

       There was a sharp click as the breaker switch snapped upward and Sade turned, grinning at Breanne.

       “There we go.  That should get the lights on at the arena, along with all the electrical stuff so we can get this going.”  She said.

       Breanne nodded as she followed the tall black girl back out into the arena room.

       When Breanne had arrived that morning she had found Sade perusing a fashion magazine on one of the sofas in the dressing room behind the stage.  The chocolate colored beauty was once more wearing red, a silk robe that hugged her luscious curves and reminded Breanne of cherry cordials.

       Breanne came in gym clothes, a comfortable black halter that sat atop a decent sports bra, and thin stretch Capri type pants.  Sade had risen immediately, swooped down on Breanne, and planted a wet kiss on her.  It took only a moment for Sade to take Breanne’s hand and lead her through the corridors of the Locke until they found themselves in the darkened arena.

       “Excellent, they’ve gotten everything here already.”  Sade said, stepping over to a small four gallon metal container that sat on a small side table next to the plastic and rubber arena pool.

       “What’s that?”  Breanne asked, as Sade began unscrewing the lid.

       “Its mineral oil, or baby oil to some.”  Sade replied, suddenly picking up the container and pouring long streams of the clear fluid out into the arena.

       Breanne hesitated.  “I thought you were going to give me some wrestling pointers?”  She asked.

       Sade nodded, circling the arena pit, drenching the bottom with the oil.  “Of course, but we’ve got to do it in the arena.  This isn’t like a cat fight, girl.  Oil wrestling is different.  Weight and reach don’t matter as much.  In fact being small and nubile can be better some times.  If you’re going to learn, you have to learn right.”

       Breanne nodded.  She hadn’t been expecting the upcoming oil bath, but she sighed, suddenly exasperated with herself.  She should have realized that the training would be like this.

       While Sade was pouring the container of oil into the pool, Breanne took the opportunity to look around.  Two large metal scaffolds stood on either side of the arena, with a bridging scaffold, hung with lights spanning the dark blue sparring area below.  To one side, hung from several chains, was a large metal object, which seemed all bars and knobs.

       “Is that the punishment chair?”  Breanne asked, pointing upward at the strangely shaped object.

       Sade looked up, following Breanne’s finger and nodded.  “Oh yeah, that’s the chair of intimate agony.”  She shook her head.  “But don’t worry about that thing now.  You haven’t even agreed to wrestle tonight.  This is just practice.  An opportunity to see how you would do, give you some pointers and stuff.  If you choose to wrestle tonight, I’ll bring the thing down and you can see it.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Okay, I think I can handle that.  I presume we’re going to do this nude?”

       Sade laughed.  “Bare it for me, baby.”  She grinned.

       Chuckling, Breanne began to strip off her exercise clothing, draping it over the back of one of the chairs near the arena.  The room was encircled by dining tables, each on a different tier that rose higher and higher toward the back of the room.  It could easily sit four hundred people.  Breanne finished undressing, crossing her arms over her still striped breasts.

       “Wow, that bastard last night really did you good, didn’t he?”  Sade said, putting the now empty oil container back on the table.  She leaned in, examining the thin red welts that crossed across Breanne’s breasts and bottom.

       “Yeah, Dr. Mason really let me have it.  They’re still a little sore actually, but not to bad.”  Breanne cupped her breasts, bouncing them slightly.

       Sade nodded.  “That’s good.  Wrestling can be very active and it’s not unheard of for there to be a bit of tit mashing.”

       Breanne’s eyebrow rose. 

       Sade laughed.  “It’s just a term.  You grab your opponent’s breast and squeeze.  She pulls away and almost invariably presents her pussy for you to win.”

       “I see.” 

       Sade waved.  “Lets get the gloves and I’ll give you the low down.”  The dark haired girl went to a small cupboard at the base of the scaffold and extracted two dark red leather gloves, each with the pointed seven inch phallus sticking straight out.  She brought them both back to Breanne.

       “Okay, raise your right hand.”  Sade said.  “You are right handed, right?”

       “Yeah, I’m right handed.”  Bre replied, raising her fist.

       Sade lifted the glove and started to slip it down over Breanne’s right hand.

       “Okay, usually you want to be oiled before they put the glove on.  When you enter the ring for an actual match, being oiled will prevent your opponent from being able to get a good grip on you.  Some girls allow their sponsors to oil them, but that’s up to you, and since you’re new, its unlikely you will have sponsors right off the bat, at least until they see you wrestle.”  Sade said.  She tapped the glove and Breanne felt a metal bar inside, curling her fingers around it.

       “Feels okay?”  Sade asked.  Breanne nodded.

       “It’s tight, but I suppose its supposed to be, right?”

       “Totally.  You don’t want this to come off during the match.  Oh yeah, and you can’t hit with it.  Hitting is an automatic disqualifier and the hitter replaces the loser on the punishment chair.”

       “Gotcha.”  Breanne nodded.  Sade took her own glove and slipped her hand in, wriggling it around and then securing the securing strap around her wrist.

       “Ready?” 

       “Yeah.”  Breanne replied.

       “Okay, let’s get in.”  Sade said, stepping over the edge of the arena.

       Breanne tentatively put her foot into the pool shaped arena, feeling the slick wet plastic on the bottom.  Carefully, she put her weight on that foot, stepping into the arena.

       Sade laughed and practically jumped in, sliding a few feet across the bottom.

       “The bottom is slick plastic, soft, but not good for getting to your feet.  They want us on our knees for these matches.  But usually, we start the match on our feet.  So go ahead and face me.”

       Breanne turned and face Sade, not really paying attention to her stance, concentrating more on not falling.

       “Okay, you need to spread your feet a little more, and bend your knees.  There you go!”  Sade said, instructing.

       Breanne felt her feet slipping as she faced off against Sade.  It was hard to keep her balance, the slick floor of the arena doing everything it could to make standing upright a chore.

       “Now, the first move is very important.  Take the offensive.  Keep the other girl on the defensive, trying to protect herself.  If you fall, try to angle your feet away from your opponent.  Got it, honey?” Sade said.

       Breanne bit her lip.  “I think so.”

       “Good.  Here I come.”  Sade said.

       She moved slowly, but Breanne was totally unprepared.  Sade moved forward, swinging one leg outward and behind Breanne’s left leg, snagging it and pulling it out from under the auburn haired beauty.  Breanne gasped as she fell, landing with a soft thud in the billowy rubber at the bottom of the arena. 

       Sade fell too, but on her side, angled opposite Breanne.  She lifted her right arm, phallus sliding up between Breanne’s thighs, already coated with a slick sheen of oil.  As Breanne tried to roll, the thick phallus split Breanne’s sex, penetrating deeply.  A loud bell rang above their heads.

       “AAhhhhhhh…”  Breanne cried out, her left hand reaching down, grasping Sade’s glove.  

       “Gotcha.”  Sade said, pulling the phallus out of Breanne.

       Breanne groaned, her hand cupping her sex.  “Oh damn, Sade.  I wasn’t ready.”

       Sade frowned.  “What do you mean, you weren’t ready?”

       Breanne eyes narrowed.  “It means I wasn’t lubricated!”

       Sade’s eyes widened.  “Oh shit!  I’m so sorry!  I thought you would have done that already!”  She moved over, sliding up next to Breanne.  “Oh girl, I’m so sorry!  Are you okay?”

       Breanne took a deep breath.  She was angry, but Sade seemed so distressed that the anger dissipated.  “Yes, I’m okay, and the oil helped.  I’m just a little sore from last night still.  That damned spiked dildo I guess.”  She twisted on the oily floor and sat up.

       “Really, Breanne.  I am so sorry.”  Sade said again.

       Breanne waved her hand.  “It’s okay.  I should have figured it out.  Sorry I’m so obtuse.”

       Sade nodded and got up on her knees.  “You want to stop?”

       Breanne shook her head.  “No.  I just wasn’t ready.  I am now, in several ways.”  She said, smiling.

       “Girl, you are one amazing lady, I’ll grant you that.”  Sade said, heaving a big sigh of relief.

       Breanne nodded, copying Sade’s stance, getting on to her knees.  “I guess we’re pretty much oiled now, aren’t we?”  She said, looking down at her pale glistening skin.  Under the lights it seemed to glow gold, while Sade’s looked like wet melted chocolate.

       “Totally girl.  Okay, be careful when you get to your feet.”  Sade slowly stood up.

       It took her a moment, but Breanne finally made it up, standing in the wet oily ooze of the arena.  She was better prepared this time, and when Sade made the first move, Breanne swung her leg, forcing Sade to slip and fall.  Breanne turned, whirling, only to find her own legs slipping out from under her and in a moment, both girls were breast to breast, their slick skin gliding against each other.  Breanne managed to get on top of Sade, her thighs clamped around the black girl’s midriff.

       For a moment, they struggled, left hands locked around the other’s right gloved wrist, but Sade’s larger size enabled her to roll, slipping Breanne over.  As the two girl spun, Sade was able to move down Breanne’s body, forcing the auburn haired beauty onto her stomach.  Before Breanne could squirm away, Sade pushed the phallus between Breanne’s legs.

       Bre gasped as it went in, a thick rod that was more spear than cock.  Its hard length kept coming until she felt the thick roundness of Sade’s glove against her clit, pressing hard.  Once more, there was a loud bell ringing above the two girls and Breanne cried out, arching her back, feeling the same tenderness of earlier, but also a strange sense of relief.

       Sade made an exclamation of triumph and pumped the phallus twice, causing Breanne to moan.

       “That’s two, and I think you like it.”  Sade said, slowly pulling her phallus out of Breanne’s body, much to the novice wrestler’s dislike.

       Breanne lay splayed, panting.  “I admit that those gloves do feel really good.”   She sat up, looking down at the oil slicked brunette.  “So do I have a chance in hell?”

       Sade laughed, sitting up.  “Of course you do honey.  I think you’re better than some of the other girls already.  And you seem to be learning a few things from wrestling me.  Want another go?”  Breanne nodded.

       Both girls got to their feet once, more facing off.  This time Breanne took the initiative, launching herself forward into Sade, surprising the black girl as they tumbled downward to the mat, their oiled skin slipping as they went down in a tangle of arms and legs.  Sade twisted, seeing an opportunity, wriggling forward, feeling Breanne attempt to thrust the phallic glove between her thighs.  Sade raised her hand, seeing Breanne’s nether opening, but only stroked the wet pink slit with the phallus, rather than plunging it in. 

       Breanne rolled misinterpreting the stroke as an attempt, and swung her bottom away from Sade.  Once more, this time on their knees, the two girls faced each other.

       Then Breanne’s eyes flashed.  She studied Sade’s moves and concentrated on the phallic glove, rather than finding a way to penetrate Sade.   Sade was unprepared for the lunge Breanne made, bringing her glove and bare hand in front of her, surprised when Breanne grasped the glove, holding on to it tightly.  They tumbled downward and Breanne scooted forward, her left arm holding Sade’s glove while she snaked her way across the chocolate girl’s body.

       It didn’t take long for Sade to figure out what Breanne was doing, but instead of throwing the pale skinned red head off, Sade allowed Breanne to continue downward.  Instead of clamping her legs tight, she opened them, pretending to try and lever Breanne off.

       There was a cry of triumph as Breanne’s glove slipped into Sade, eliciting a grunt and moan from the dark skinned girl.  Bre gave an excited cry and pumped the phallus several times.

       “Okay okay!  You win that one.”  Sade said, her voice tight.  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

       Breanne moved away, getting to her knees, her eyes flashing.  “I did it!”  She said, her voice filled with triumph and excitement.  “I can do it.”

       Sade chuckled.  “Well, we suspected that.  But don’t forget, things can be a little more cutthroat and difficult in the arena when it’s for real.”

       Breanne laughed.  “I suppose.  But I don’t feel like such a klutz now.  I can actually do this.”

       “Yeah.  So are you in for tonight’s match?  If you do it, you risk the punishment chair.”  Sade lifted a hand and pointed upward to the dangling pipe frame.

       Breanne looked up, seeing the chair shaped implement and swallowed.  Its legs were spread wide apart, large eyebolts holding it to the support chains.  Wires led down one of the chains to the center of the frame Breanne thought she could see the punishment phalluses themselves.  She turned and nodded at Sade, her voice trembling.  “I’ll risk it.”

       Sade smiled. “I’ll tell William.” 

Chapter 12:  The Match

       The afternoon had gone quickly for Breanne after showering with Sade, each girl helping to strip the oily residue from the other’s skin.  A light lunch in the employee’s lounge followed by a dip in the spa and several laps in the pool had kept Breanne occupied until the front doors opened at four.

       There were a lot more girls present, due to the oncoming weekend, and Breanne was awash in welcome kisses and names.  Even the contemptuous glare from Dana, the girl who had refused to follow Breanne on the dance floor the previous night, couldn’t ruin the excitement Bre felt.

       Melanie wasn’t as thrilled when she found out Breanne agreed to participate in the night’s wrestling, giving Sade a foul look which the larger girl shrugged off with a raised eyebrow and a shrug.  Breanne spent a few minutes helping Melanie get her hair and makeup together, since the feisty brunette would be dancing and hitting the lounge floor long before Breanne and Sade made their way back to be auctioned.

       “Are you totally sure about this?”  Melanie asked, slipping into the long blue dress, the collar plunging down to expose the ripe curves of her still lightly striped breasts.  Breanne was just wearing a silk Locke robe.

       Breanne nodded.  “I have to try it at least once.  Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

       “You could lose your first two matches and spend two hours being shocked, vibrated, clamped, and displayed.”  Melanie said darkly.

       “I’m not that bad!”  Breanne said in mock ferocity.  “I beat Sade once!  And you said she was the best.”

       Melanie let out a disbelieving grunt.  “She let you win, no doubt.”

       Breanne’s face fell.  “Melanie, that was mean.”  She said, her voice betraying her hurt.

       Melanie looked at her auburn haired friend apologetically.  “Sorry, Bre.  Its just I feel like you’ve been stolen from me.”  She sighed.  “Well, I’ll come and watch your first two matches.”  She said.  “The good news is that everyone wrestles at least one match before the second strings start.”

       “Second strings?”  Breanne asked, her nimble fingers pinning up one side of Melanie’s hair.

       “Yeah.  They do one round of matches with new girls in each match before they start pairing off the first set of losers.  You can lose your first match, but don’t lose your second.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Do you think they will pair me up against Sade?”  She asked.

       Melanie shook her head.  “No.  From what I understand they try to pair new girls with the lowest ranked wrestlers, so at least you’ve got a chance.”

       “A chance to win?”  Breanne exclaimed, suddenly amazed.

       “No, a chance not to spend the rest of the night on the punishment chair.”  Melanie said, grimacing.

       “Is it really that bad?”  Breanne asked. 

       Melanie sighed.  “The first ten minutes are amazing.  The next ten minutes are draining, everything after that is torment.”

       Breanne didn’t reply, her fingers plucking at Melanie’s hair.  The two girls shared the quiet until Sade came up, dressed just as Breanne.

       “It’s time honey.” 

       Breanne nodded and gave Melanie a quick squeeze on the shoulder as the brunette turned and gave the departing red head a wan smile.  “Good luck, Bre!”  Melanie said, waving.  “I’ll be there watching!”

       “Has she gotten over you deciding to wrestle?”  Sade asked.

       Breanne shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  I don’t know her well enough.”

       Sade turned and looked at Breanne.  “Well, Melanie and I have never been that close.  Ever since that first night I had her in the arena, she’s been stand offish toward me.  I really didn’t mind much, but I don’t want things turning sour, or making things bad for you.”

       “Sade, I appreciate your concern, but what I do here at the Locke is my business, and my own decision.  I haven’t let anyone make them for me.  Even you.”

       Sade grinned.  “Yeah?  What about the valet Raul?  I heard about the ‘tip’ you gave him last night to bring your car around.”

       Breanne flushed scarlet for a moment.  “You heard about that huh?”

       Sade nodded.  “Took it up your budunkadonk, over the hood of a Corvette, if I heard correctly.”

       “Well, that’s not quite accurate.”  Breanne said, her eyes falling as the two girls exited the dressing room and entered the administrative hallway, the clicking sound of their high heels snapping through the corridor.

       Sade laughed.  “It’s a good idea to throw those guys a bone every once in a while.  On occasion, Trottman will give them a bonus or a reward and let them bid up to a certain amount, with the house paying the fee.”  She shrugged. “Guess it’s a good for morale or something.” 

       Breanne smiled and followed Sade through the entrance hallway that was already filling up and down to the arena.  The muted sounds of four hundred or so guests filled the room and Breanne gasped when Sade opened the door, letting the two girls slip in.

       Every table was packed, and too Breanne’s surprise, many guests had female companions, dressed to the nines in every case.  A large projector screen illuminated one wall, and Breanne saw her name listed with Sade and several other girls.  Numbers stood out in columns next to each entry and Sade noticed Breanne trying to understand the board.

       “It’s the odds board.  Since you’re new, and no one has seen you wrestle, you aren’t getting very favorable odds on winning.”  Sade said.

       Breanne grinned ruefully.  “Well, hopefully I can change those.  What about that column?  It looks like my number is highest there!”

       Sade looked embarrassed for a moment.  “Bre, that’s the double loser odds.”

       “Oh.”  Breanne bit her lip, suddenly hesitant.  “Sade?  Am I going to do okay?”

       Sade looked back at Breanne.  “You want the truth?”

       Breanne nodded.

       “I would say you’ve got a seventy percent chance of ending up in the punishment chair tonight.”  Sade said.

       Breanne took a deep breath.  “Two hours of sexual torment for nothing.”

       Sade’s eyes widened.  “Oh no, not for nothing.  Every time one of the guests hit the button to zap you, its fifty bucks credited to you.  If you end up on the punishment chair you’ll get all that, plus ten percent of whatever was bet on you for the double loss column.  Trust me, that can be high earning.”

       Breanne looked confused.  “Then why don’t the other girls throw in the towel for the punishment chair?”

       “Cause loosing after the chair has been filled is just a quick ten to twenty minute torment and then you can hit the floor, getting dances and setting up your auction bidders.   Look, no matter what, wrestlers here make a lot of money, even the losing ones.”  Sade said, pulling Breanne to the back of the arena room.  She opened a small door and led Breanne into the small room.

       There were six other girls, all in identical silk robes, sitting and lounging, two were even stretching.  Breanne recognized a few from the previous evening, but most were new faces.

       “Let’s see…” Sade began.  “That’s Jessica, or Jessie as we like to call her.” Breanne nodded to the freckle face red head whose pale white skin, freckled all over, made her Irish background very obvious.  Jessica gave a thin lipped smile and nodded. 

       “This is Monica.”  Sade pointed to one of the stretching girls who was sitting on the floor, her legs outstretched, the black silk robe riding up and exposing the girls loins to Breanne.

       “Over there reading is Elizabeth, who sometimes manages to beat me.”  Sade said, her voice thick with mischief.

       “I heard that Sade, and let me tell you I’m going to whoop that black ass of yours again.”  Elizabeth said.  Breanne swallowed, imagining the two large boned girls going at it.

       Sade smiled.  “Any time honey.”  She nudged Breanne.  “Don’t worry about remembering anyone’s names, but that’s Becky, Natasha, and Marie.  Natasha is from Russia.” 

       Breanne nodded to everyone, letting the introductions flow.  She had been exposed to so many new people over the last few days that she barely was able to memorize the names and doubted she could match faces to them.  Becky was the classical “girl next door” brunette, with a dark, slutty, look with heavy black eyeliner.  Natasha was tall, thin, and blonde, the total antithesis of the “ideal” Russian woman, but she was beautiful.  Marie was also pretty, with soft dark hair.

       Sade moved over to another one of the flat screen touch monitors and began pressing a few buttons.  In moments she had called up the match order.  Breanne gazed on in interest.

       “Oh, this isn’t bad at all!”  Sade said, lifting a finger and pointing to Breanne’s name.  “You’re in the second match, right after me and Jessica.  You will be wrestling Monica.”  Sade leaned in close.  “Monica isn’t all that great, and frankly she and Marie usually vie for the punishment chair.” 

       Breanne bit her lip.  “But Sade, I’m not that great either.”

       Sade laughed.  “Yeah, honey, but at least you aren’t going against me or Lizzie.  You’d have no chance!”

       Breanne grinned ruefully.  “I took you down this afternoon!”

       “Once, honey, and once doesn’t make the match!”  Sade laughed again, her deep voice sounding like liquid smoke.

       The two girls made their way back to the door and stepped back into the arena.  Sade motioned Breanne to follow her over to the match pit and Breanne followed the black girl. 

       “You can stay here and watch while I wrestle Jessie.  After the match, I’ll help you lube up.”  Sade said.

       Breanne nodded and then noticed that Jessica had come out of the back room and was disrobing on the far side of the arena.

       “GENTLEMEN and guests of the Locke, welcome to FRIDAY NIGHT FIGHTS!”  Breanne jumped a bit as the loud voice of the announcer boomed out through the loudspeaker.  She turned and saw a small man dressed in a sharp looking black blazer holding a microphone to his mouth.  “I’m Frank Cavanaugh, your MC for tonight’s games.  Tonight we are pleased to announce the debut of a new princess!  Having just joined the incredible staff of the Locke, I’d like you to all welcome Breanne, the luscious auburn beauty standing next to our own wrestling champion, Sade!”

       Breanne flushed scarlet as there was a loud rumble of applause that rustled through the dining area of the arena room.  Sade pushed her forward, whispering for her to smile and wave.

       It took a moment, but Breanne put on a brave face, despite her misgivings about the whole wrestling thing and waved to the crowd.  For a moment, it was no different than being on stage in the main lounge.

       She turned back to Sade.  “You know, I just realized it really doesn’t matter if I win or lose, does it?”

       Sade twisted and looked at her, surprise showing on her face.  “What do you mean?” 

       “It’s an act.  What we are doing is the same thing we do on the main dance floor, except in a slightly different environment.  Even the punishment chair is just a sex toy designed to take the money from the marks.”

       Sade’s eyes widened in astonishment.  “Does that mean you’re going to throw the match? Lose on purpose?”

       Breanne laughed. “Oh no, I still will try my hardest, but losing or winning isn’t that important to me.  Doing my best to beat Monica is what I’ve got to do.”

       “It’s your ass, girl.  You do what you want.”  Sade said, shrugging her shoulders. 

       “Tonight we start our lineup with a return match pitting Jessica K. against Sade.  Gentlemen, you have two minutes to finish your bets as the girls prepare to fight!”  Cavanaugh’s voice once again filled the room.

       Sade took a step forward, slipping out of her robe.  Once again Breanne was treated to the sight of the luscious chocolate colored beauty and the crowd rumbled with the same appreciation.  Sade held out one hand and a small man wearing a Locke polo shirt and khaki pants quickly buckled one of the phallic gloves onto Sade’s wrist.  The raven haired beauty stepped into the ring opposite Jessica, and dropped down, rolling around in the liquid oil, coating herself, her free hand rubbing the oil into every nook and cranny.

       It was obvious the crowd loved it, and Breanne felt herself becoming aroused from the antics of the two women in the pit.  Jessica had secured her long red hair in a French braid, her speckled skin glowing in a healthy sheen, while Sade merely looked like slick latex.

       “It’s time for our first match.  Ladies to opposite corners!”  Cavanaugh announced.  Breanne glanced up and watched as the betting board on the far wall scrambled with new numbers, and an updated match list.

       There was a sudden clang from the bell mounted on the metal scaffolding, next to the bright spot lights, and Breanne jumped as Jessie and Sade moved toward each other fast, their arms slipping as free hands found the phallic gloves and each girl strained.

       It was Jessica who fell, swept off her feet by Sade, whose longer leg had managed to catch Jessica’s ankle.  Jessie attempted to roll, and kept hold of Sade’s glove, tugging the dark skinned girl downward on top.  In moments, every man’s eye was on the two struggling slipping girls, watching as they twisted, their limbs entwined.  More than once, Breanne thought Jessica was in a good position to overcome Sade, holding her breath, but each time Jessica pushed with her phallus, Sade rotated, moving her target zone away from the dangerous spike.

       Sade’s leg pushed out, her ankle trapping the phallic glove as she squirmed her way downward.  In moments it was over, the bell rang out as Sade’s glove moved up between Jessie’s legs, penetrating the red haired girl deeply.

       Breanne looked up, seeing a yellow light flashing on Sade’s side of the scaffolding.  The two girls separated and Sade pulled the sticky phallus out of Jessie

S pink slit, holding it up high like a knight saluting.  The crowd roared and the wager numbers changed again.

       Sade made her way back to the edge of the pit, her face beaming in a wide grin, a slick of oil glistening on her cheek and chin.  Breanne clapped, stepping forward to help Sade out.

       “That was quick.”  Sade said.  Breanne laughed.  “I thought for a moment she had you.”

       Sade looked incredulous.  “That sorry ass girl?  I don’t think so.”  She said haughtily.  “I can mop this arena with her ass.”  Sade laughed and then nodded at Breanne.  “Time to strip and lube girl.”

       Breanne nodded, slipping out of her robe.  She followed Sade over and helped remove the phallic glove, which was hurriedly wiped off and then fitted over Breanne’s right wrist.  Bre hefted it, testing the weight, and then turned to enter the arena pit.

       Monica was already on her stomach, rolling around in the oil, sliding across her half of the arena like a snake.  Their were all sorts of murmurs going around the arena room amongst the guests, and Breanne slipped to her knees.  She knew that the pit was still a stage.

       She started out by doing the splits, spreading her legs wider and wider until her sex was actually touching the rubber padded floor, drenched in oil.  There were a couple of excited exclamations from the crowd, and Breanne grinned to herself as she reached out with her free hand, smoothing oil over her legs and up into the folds of her sex, lubricating each petal while laying back.

       In essence, she masturbated herself, lubricating herself in such a manner that had the crowd buzzing with excitement.  In moments she was the most watched girl in the arena.

       Monica couldn’t help noticing and frowned, chagrined at the auburn haired beauty across from her.  She took a deep breath and moved to her side of the pit, waiting for Breanne to finish her lewd display.

       “Well folks, from the look of the boards, I think most of us are hoping that the newest addition to the Lock loses tonight.  I admit, after that little show, I wouldn’t mind helping the sweet Breanne onto the punishment chair!  I think she’s finished lubing up now, so ladies to opposite corners!”  Cavanaugh announced.

       Breanne stood, slipping to the side of the arena pit, turning to see Monica smiling back at her from across the twelve foot wide pool.  The oil glistened on her skin and Breanne chuckled.  When the bell rang, she scooted toward the center, meeting the olive complexioned Monica in the middle.

       Monica attacked swiftly, not bothering to sweep or even latch on to Breanne’s glove, instead pressing her shoulder into Breanne’s stomach.  In moments Breanne was looking up at the ceiling, while Monica rotated across the fallen girls hips.  Breanne twisted, suddenly desperate to move away, copying Sade’s earlier maneuver.  Monica was forced off Breanne, sliding down the auburn haired beauty’s legs and onto her stomach. 

       Breanne leapt at the opportunity, jumping up and landing on Monica’s back, her gaping sex riding Monica’s spine.  For a moment, Monica tried to lift her off, bucking like a bronco, much to the crowd’s pleasure.  Breanne leaned back, her phallus behind her, as she tried to find Monica’s flower.  She managed to slip it between Monica’s thighs when suddenly Monica spun, rotating a full one hundred and eighty degrees between Breanne’s legs. 

       Bre’s arms weren’t in the right position to defend herself and Monica’s phallus drove straight up into Breanne’s sex, her spread legs providing a perfect path.  The bell rang loudly as the phallus seated itself deep, ramming home as Breanne gasped, her body trembling at the implantation.  Monica screamed as she pushed the plunger upward, then giving Breanne the same few fast pumps Sade had given her during the practice session.

       Then it was over, the crowd cheering as Monica pulled her glove away from Breanne’s now pink and frothy slit.  Breanne groaned as it left her, slowly coming to her feet, seeing Sade smiling at the side of the arena.

       “So much for my first match.”  She said, her voice small and tiny.

       Sade shook her head. “That was awesome for a first match.  You put on an incredible show.”  She looked down her nose.  “Though I admit you did leave yourself wide open.”  She chuckled.

       Breanne couldn’t help herself and started to laugh.  “You’re right.  That wasn’t very smart.”  The quickly embraced and Breanne lifted her glove. “Can you take this thing off?”

       Sade led Breanne over to the arena helper, and then helped Breanne back into her silk robe.  Breanne turned to watch as Elizabeth and Becky began their match. 

       It took longer, much longer than her own match with Monica, and Breanne began to get a better idea as to some of the tactics that the other wrestlers could use.  Elizabeth won, forcing Becky down in a strange leg lock that kept the other’s glove from even getting close.  The bell rang out as Becky gasped, the thick phallus embedding itself deep.

       The match between Natasha and Marie went just as long, and Breanne enjoyed the interplay between the tall Russian girl and the dark haired Marie.  Marie lost, joining Breanne, Jessica, and Becky on the losing list.

       “You’re up again, girl.”  Sade said, pushing Breanne forward.  Bre looked up at the match list, seeing her name flashing next to Jessica’s.  She nodded and moved back up to the arena pool, slipping the robe from her shoulders for a second time, baring her still somewhat slick skin to the crowd.

       “If you win this one, Jess gets mounted, and I would dearly love to see that.”  Sade said.

       “I hope you aren’t counting on that.”  Breanne said, her voice tight.

       Sade shook her head.  “No way, honey.  You do the best you can.  If you win, good for you.  If you lose, then you’ll make a beautiful ornament above the arena.”  Sade looked up and Breanne followed her gaze to the metal framed punishment chair dangling above them.  It seemed to loom very big in Breanne’s eyes and she wondered if she would be sitting in it shortly.

       Cavanaugh once again called out for the ladies to enter the arena and Breanne quickly lubed herself, forgoing the fancy display she had made on her first round.  It wasn’t long before she found herself staring in to the green eyes and freckled face of Jessica, who moved forward at the sound of the start bell.

       Jessica was no match for Sade, but for a novice like Breanne, she was lightning quick.  In moments Jessica had swept Breanne down to the mat and the two girls squirmed and rolled in the oil, their slick bodies slipping along the base of the arena as the crowd cheered.  More than once, Breanne thought Jessica was in the perfect position, only to have the Irish colored girl skitter away. 

       In the end, it was Breanne who was skewered, making a fatal mistake that allowed Jessica to ram home the phallic glove.  Breanne gasped as it went in, hearing the bell clang through the arena.  She shuddered as Jessica pumped it a few times, softening Breanne up for the upcoming punishment.

       Jessica extracted her glove, leaving Breanne lying on the arena floor.  It took only a moment for the sound of the motor lowering the chair to rouse Breanne who slowly got to her knees and then stood.  Sade motioned her forward to the side of the arena, right near the chair, and quickly unbuckled the heavy phallic glove from Breanne’s wrist.

       “You did good, honey.”  Sade said, giving Breanne a soft kiss.  Breanne nodded, her throat tight with concern as she finally saw the metal frame chair.  It was easily a foot and a half wide, the seat merely a metal bar that ran from back to front.  A motor hung bracketed underneath in the center, a large anal shaft rising from the middle.

       The vaginal phallus was not yet in place, but Sade took Breanne’s hand and helped her out of the arena pool and onto the soft carpeting, moving her around to the front of the chair.  Sade spent a moment lubricating the anal plug.

       “You got to sit on the phallus, honey.”  Sade said, pushing Breanne down and backward.

       Bre nodded and reached behind her, grasping the arms of the punishment chair.  She lowered her body until she felt the bottom plug probing at the tiny button of her anus, squirming slightly.  For a moment she held herself up, then groaned as she pushed downward, impaling herself completely.

       The arena staff moved in then, pushing Sade out of the way as they quickly secured her wrists, knees, and ankles to the chair.  To Breanne’s surprise, she found them slipping a pair of black high heels onto the soles of her feet as they pulled her legs apart.  She trembled slightly, feeling the strain on her thighs as her legs were spread wider than was usually comfortable.  To her surprise, one of the men placed a small microphone and speaker earpiece on the right side of her head.

       “Breanne.  There is a button near your left hand, you have to stretch a bit to reach it, but you can.  It activates the microphone and lets us know you need to talk to us in the event of a serious problem.  It’s never happened before, but we liked to be prepared for all contingencies.”  He smiled once.  “Go ahead and press the button so we can test it.”

       Bre nodded and stretched out with her fingers.  In moments, she found the small button and pressed it.  A crackling noise came from the speaker over her ear and she heard a tiny voice.  “Radio check.  Bre, can you hear me?”

       “Yes I can.”  She said. 

       The man in front of her nodded.  “It’s working just fine then.  I’m going to insert the vaginal probe now.”

       She bit her lip as the man knelt down in front of her chair.  There was a faint grinding noise and she looked down, seeing the large tip of the phallus moving upward toward her sex.  The man adjusted the angle as it neared her body, and she trembled as she felt its tapered head move between her oiled and already soaked petals.

       “Mmmmm…an easy penetration.”  The technician said.  He rotated the phallus as it entered her, and Breanne saw the large extension arm that jutted out down near the base of the phallus.  It continued to rise up into her, until the arm was touching her clit, and the full seven inches of phallic torture were impaled up inside her, fighting for space with the anal probe.

       “Seated comfortably?”  The tech asked, a look of concern on his face.

       “Yeah, but I think I know what a turkey feels like on Thanksgiving!”  Breanne said.  The technician laughed.

       “Well, you are stuffed, and you look good enough to eat.” He said.  “I know this is your first time, so I want to tell you a few things.”  He paused and then took a very serious tone.  “This chair is a serious sexual torture.  Don’t be surprised if you feel a squirt of lubricant come out of either of the probes.  You generate your own in your pussy, but your bottom can get dry.  We won’t let that happen.  Also, there are still no safe words, and unless you can articulate a serious problem, you won’t be coming down until the second place finisher replaces you on the chair.”

       Breanne nodded.

       “Great.  Let me just get the clamps on and we’ll be ready.”  He reached out and tweaked her nipples, hardening them perfectly.

       “These are specially designed clamps, Breanne.  They really don’t pinch that much, unless you try to shake them off.  The harder you swing your chest, the tighter they will get, okay?”  He held up one of the clamps.  To her surprise, a small plastic weight dangled from it.

       “Vibrator?”  She asked, recognizing the small egg shaped form dangling from the clamp.  The tech nodded.

       “You betcha.  What’s sex torture unless we do your entire body?” 

       He reached up and quickly applied both clamps, causing Breanne to moan as the tiny metal bands enclosed about her nipples.  For just a second, she shook her shoulders, feeling the weight of the clamps, only to feel them tighten just a tad bit.

       “Well you’re ready and I’ve been told that you already have forty three minutes of torment time purchased, so you’re in for a rough ride.  Up you go!” 

       Suddenly Breanne found herself beginning to rise, the chair rocking as she looked out over the crowd.  For a moment she gazed around intently, curious of the new perspective she was gaining over the arena and the dining tables encircling it.  The crowd was cheering, some pointing, but all enjoying the spectacle of her spread legs, the bright blue phallus spreading the pink petals of her sex wide.

       To her horror, she saw that the huge projector screen was showing a close up of her body, the unseen camera focusing in on her torso from the knees up.  She flushed crimson, suddenly embarrassed by her predicament. 

       “Gentlemen and guests of the Locke, I would like to present our primary loser of tonight’s games, Breanne!”  There was a scattering of applause and Cavanaugh continued.  “For those of you that are new here at the Locke Arena, the punishment chair is specially designed for the maximum of sexual torment.  Impaled in her bottom is a phallus measuring six inches long by an inch and a half.  Mounted on a special motor, this bottom plug will rotate, screwing itself inside her as it vibrates.”

       The video screen suddenly changed view and Breanne was looking at her own bottom, the small metal bar separating both cheeks, the thick base of the phallus easily seen where it entered her. 

       “The blue phallus you see penetrating her pussy is a total of seven and a half inches long, and two inches wide, with an extension arm that reaches upward to her clit.  This little phallic wonder contains a vibrator and a thumper, which can alternately or in combination, thrust up into her body as well as vibrate.”

       The camera close up this time was centered at her sex, a pulsing pink gash separated by a blue shaft.

       “And lastly, Breanne is wearing a set of clamps attached to very small vibrating weights.  Together, all these tortures will encourage our primary loser from doing so poorly again.  And how do we do that?  It’s up to you, gentlemen and guests.  On the table touch screen you can purchase a minute of punishment time for a mere fifty dollars.  We’ve already received a few to start us off, so let’s get this show on the road!”

       Breanne looked down at Cavanaugh who was looking out at the crowd.  He seemed so animated, and yet it was obvious that he had repeated the entire speech before on numerous occasions.  Once more she looked over at the large projector screen, only to discover that the rows of betting odds had reappeared.  Her name was no longer on the list, but in the far right corner was a small window with a live camera shot of her sex.

       She was totally surprised when it started.  There was no warning, not a buzz, or a bell, or even a whisper through the mic.  And it all started at once, everything; the anal probe began to rotate and vibrate, causing her to clench her bottom around it.  The vaginal phallus thrust upward once into her, then began vibrating deep inside her as well as a maddening buzz against her clit.  Her nipples tightened as the tremors from the clamps excited the tips, and she gasped, every muscle in her body tightening from the over-stimulation.

       Another thrust from the thumper merely intensified the sensations she was feeling, her body beginning to respond to mechanical lover that was so intently and perfectly pressing every button her body had.  Her hips began to rock, and she let out a deep throated moan that seemed to embody the deep and driving need she was feeling.

       She almost didn’t notice Becky and Marie in the arena, and only the clanging of the bell to her side announced the match.  She looked down between her legs, trying to focus as she watched the two girls grapple, their oil slicked bodies glistening brightly under the spot lights.  It took several minutes and Breanne couldn’t concentrate, her body rumbling to its first orgasm just as Becky inserted her phallic glove into Marie’s perfect and tight hole. 

       Breanne let out a shuddering cry, thrusting her hips madly against the thumping, vibrating, rocket between her legs, her clit sensitized.  There was a sudden gush and Breanne exploded, wet drops trickling down the phallus and its post.  She slumped in the chair, as much as her bonds would let her, breathing hard.

       But the vibrations and the thrust and the spinning didn’t stop.  Not even the slightest decrease.  She felt a sudden spurt in her bottom and sex, a motorized ejaculation that was meant to ease discomfort as the torment continued.

       Panting, Breanne watched as Marie was pulled off the arena and quickly bound to a small wheeled contraption that looked similar to the clothespin cart Breanne had helped Melanie with the previous night.  A thick phallus rose out of the center, which Marie dutifully sat on, bending over as her arm and legs were bound.  Breanne stared, ignoring her own continuing stimulation as Marie was wheeled over to the first table, whose occupants immediately picked up a paddle and began walloping the poor girl’s bottom.

       Breanne heard Cavanaugh’s voice, announcing the next match and she saw Sade and Monica take to the arena.  It was difficult to concentrate, due mostly to the vibrations on her clit, but also because of the intensely different sensation of the rotating probe in her bottom.  She barely noticed Sade launching forward to knock Monica down, and despite her best efforts to study and analysis Sade’s style, the continuing vibrations made it impossible. 

       Monica was impaled in moments and the crowd cheered as Sade stood, raising her arms in victorious salute.  Monica walked off the mat, knowing that if she lost a second match, she would be the next one punished.  Sade looked up at Breanne and waved, her face splitting in a wide grin as Breanne nodded at her.  Sade stepped over to the technicians and took a small headset from one, slipping it over her head.

       “How you holding up, honey?”  A tiny voice said in ear.  Breanne looked around for a moment and then realized that it was Sade, speaking through the headset.

       “I’ve come once, but I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”  Bre replied, her voice unsteady.

       “Well, you’ve lasted eleven minutes so far, so I’m impressed.” Sade said.  “So far you’ve had a total of sixty three minutes purchased, with eleven served already.  That’s a little over three grand for you.  Oops.  Sixty four minutes now.  I think the clients like the view.”  Sade paused.  “Here comes Liz and Natasha.”

       Breanne glanced down again, trying to ignore the rapidly building pressure within her.  The two blonde girls entered the arena pool and immediately dropped, rolling in the oil.  Natasha was so thin compared to Elizabeth, that Breanne worried the larger girl would hurt the Russian.

       The two girls circled each other, neither willing to commit and Breanne watched, her body trembling.  As the two wrestlers finally closed, throwing each other to the ground as they tried desperately to impale each other, Breanne couldn’t hold back any longer.  She cried out, her breasts heaving, which only tightened the clamps further.  There was another spate of thrusts, her hips moving wildly, which changed all of the internal positions of the probes, inciting her to further gyrations that set the chair swinging.  Once more her body tightened, a wave of intense pleasure smothering her like an ocean wave.

       When she finally relaxed, Elizabeth was standing victorious over Natasha.  The Russian girl was unhurt, but looked chagrinned as Liz pumped her glove into the air, the crowd cheering.  Breanne bit her lip lightly, her body trembling in response to the non stop vibrations still coming from both probes and the clamp weights.  She struggled to ignore the stimulation as Becky and Monica reappeared below.

       The first bit of real discomfort came from Breanne’s clit.  Pressed tightly against it, the extension arm of the vibrator sent directed strokes, faster than fingers or tongue possibly could, exciting the nerve filled spot past endurance.  Breanne shifted in her seat, trying to pull her now swollen clit away from the extension arm.  She was moderately successful, giving her a few precious moments of relief, but she was unable to extract herself from the deep penetrations of the two probes.

       Her energy was also becoming depleted, and after a moment, she felt her arms tremble and she lowered herself back down, sliding a full inch back into the phallic probes, and mashing her clit back into the vibrator.  She groaned, a cry that seemed to echo her ache. 

       The match between Becky and Monica was almost totally ignored by Breanne, who seemed to concentrate wholly on lifting herself up and down on the punishment chair, riding the probes with a strange intensity.  Her body ached, burning as the stimulation didn’t stop, and the up and down movement of her torso merely caused the nipple weights to bounce, which tightened the clamps.  She shuddered as she felt another wave of orgasm approaching, not even hearing the match bell, or noticing as Monica was led away and strapped to the clothespin cart.

       Breanne exploded painfully, her sex gushing with oil and her own juice, her body thrashing against its bonds.  She let out a throaty scream which drew the attention of the crowd to her bound and tormented body. Her thighs tightened as she pulled against the ankle and knee straps, her sex pulsing around the blue phallus.  She felt another ejaculatory squirt inside her body, but the vibrations, thrusts, and rotation didn’t stop, much less slow.  For a moment she slumped, defeated, and then she burst into tears, her eyes brimming as the clear fluids trickled down her face to land glistening on her chest.  She had just enough presence of mind to remember Sade advising her not to wear eyeliner or mascara, and she smiled at herself despite the pain.

       Natasha and Jessica were already wrestling when Breanne looked back down.  The Irish red head against the Russian blonde drew the crowds attention away from any of the losing girls who were being tortured.  Breanne could see both Monica and Marie making the rounds of the tables, Marie’s bottom a cherry red, and Monica grimacing as another clothespin was removed from her nipple, only to be reattached.

       Breanne closed her eyes, trying to force her body to relax.  She deliberately clenched every muscle she could and then, ignoring the still humming vibrators, she tried to release her tensions.  Slowly she sank down in the seat, her clit still pressed against the extension arm, but with less of the intensity.  Breanne knew it was a false peace, imposed by her mind onto her body, but she needed the respite.  Relaxing her coital muscles however, was much harder.  Their tightening was a physical response to the thick intruder that spread her open.  She discovered that relaxing her vaginal muscles around the vibrator caused her to experience an increase in sexual pleasure, stimulating her faster than a tight hold.

       Natasha was being led away as Breanne exploded again, a painful combination of sexual pleasure and over-stimulated nerves.  There was another scream, loud and long, and Breanne clenched her fists, yanking hard against the chair, causing it to sway.  Natasha was led to the far side of the arena room where the oddest contraption had been pulled out of a recess in the wall.

       Breanne was barely able to watch as the blonde Russian was laid down on the long bench, her arms and legs spread wide apart and tied.  Her bottom was hanging off the edge and a large wheel easily four feet in diameter, and covered with six inch long leather straps was rolled forward between her outstretched limbs.  It began to rotate, the first of the straps dropping onto Natasha’s sex.  As it picked up speed the straps landing with a smack, causing Natasha to spasm, and then cry out as her spread sex was smacked.

       For Breanne, Natasha’s torture seemed light and she would have gladly traded with the bound Russian girl.  Another orgasm swept through the auburn haired beauty dangling above the arena, and her choking tears did little to alleviate the agonizing sexual predations made upon her body.  She whimpered as her orgasm flowed through her.  It was no longer an explosive blast, but like a hot quick flow of lava, streaming up from the bowels of the earth.

       Sade and Liz were suddenly in the arena and Breanne let her head droop in exhaustion, watching, her body twitching in unconscious response to the still churning, vibrating, plunging punishment chair.  The two Amazon girls were easily the best of the wrestlers, and their match seemed to last forever.  Breanne groaned as another wave of lava streamed through her body, and Sade yelled in triumph as Elizabeth was suddenly impaled.

       Sade trounced off the arena, not even looking up at Breanne, who was now shaking, her body’s nervous system over-loaded.  If not for the regular squirts of oil, she would have easily dried up, her sex so used and tormented that no woman could handle her own requirements.

       Breanne didn’t even watch as Becky and Elizabeth then wrestled, resulting in Becky’s loss.  The brunette was quickly strapped to the same spanking cart that Marie had been on earlier.  Breanne looked for Marie, but noticed that she and Monica were already both gone.  Natasha was on the far side of the room, the wheel stopped, being released.

       Cavanaugh’s voice filled the arena and Breanne forced herself to listen.  “Gentlemen and guests, what a night!  What a fantastic night for the Locke!  Once again, our two top contenders fight for the honor of champion.  One will win, and one will lose.  As most of you know, the loser will take the honor of bringing our first double loser down, the lovely Breanne, and taking her place of honor.  The winner of course, goes on, flushed with success!  Ladies, to your corners!”

       Sade and Elizabeth squared off for the second time and Elizabeth looked determined.  She stepped forward, trying to sweep Sade off her feet, but only managed to slip slightly in the slick oil.  Sade moved, circling around, and then launched herself forward, her free hand grasping Liz’s phallus, holding on to it tightly.

       The two girls fell, landing in the oil with a splat, rolling across each other in violent and rapid movements.  It looked as if two pythons were trying desperately to kill each other, enfolding and smothering their opponent in coils of flesh. 

       Breanne wasn’t watching any of it.  She sat, slumped in her chair, swinging slightly, barely cognizant of anything but the pain between her legs.  Her bottom was tender, aching as the probe rotated.  Her clit was so swollen and tender that the tiniest change in position from her brought an immediate flash of pain and orgasm that had her soundlessly screaming.  The thrusting vibrator inside her sex continued to hammer away, the insides of her sex already bruised.

       There was a sudden ruckus below, the crowd jumping to their feet, yelling as the winner bell rang out.  Even that did not rouse Breanne.  The uproar continued and Breanne barely realized that the chair was lowering, dropping down, and that the vibrations had stopped.

       And Sade was standing there, a look of chagrin on her face, her upper arms encircled by the oil slick fingers of Elizabeth and the technician.  Sade quickly unbuckled Breanne, releasing her body from the chair, removing the nipple clamps, and then pulled her up.  Sade and Elizabeth helped Breanne rise, the sucking sound of the probes leaving her body making both girls smile.  To Breanne’s surprise, there was a wheel chair waiting, and she slumped into it gratefully.  Her body ached in more places that she though possible and she smiled appreciatively at the two girls.

       For a moment, she was about to ask who won the match, but Elizabeth moved forward and once again took hold of Sade’s arm.  To Breanne’s astonishment, Sade nodded and moved toward the chair.  The technician had just finished replacing the probes, inserting a fresh phallus into each inset.  Sade grimaced as she sat down, letting the anal probe drive deeply into her dark chocolate bottom.  The vaginal probe went in next and Sade wiggled once, smiling at Breanne.

       “Liz won, Bre.  I told you on occasion she does.”

       Elizabeth snorted.  “More than on occasion I’d say.”

       There was loud clank and the chair began to rise, lifting up over the arena.  Sade suddenly let out as exclamation as the chair began the same brutal punishment it had delivered to Breanne.

       “She’s getting what she deserved you know.”  A voice whispered in Breanne’s ear.  The auburn haired girl turned and saw Melanie, standing beautiful in a blue dress.  “Come on, let’s leave Sade alone with her loss.”  Melanie grabbed the handles of the wheel chair and headed toward the door.

Chapter 13: Dessert

       It didn’t take Melanie long to wheel Breanne out of the arena and down the hall to the entertainer’s dressing room.  Breanne didn’t talk, sitting slumped as her friend took charge, ordering passing girls or Locke staff to open doors before finally moving the exhausted wrestler to the large leather couch at the back of the dressing room.

       “Are you feeling okay?”  Melanie asked, helping Breanne to move from one seat to another.  She draped a blanket over Breanne and smiled, concern written all over her face.

       “I think so.”  Breanne said, summoning the energy to smile back at Melanie.

       The brunette girl shook her head.  “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.” 

       Breanne couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I know, Melanie, but it wasn’t so bad.  And frankly I think I’ll do better next time.”  She hesitated then grinned.  “Maybe”.

       Melanie made a sour face and crossed her arms.  “Well, I’m just glad that Sade is getting a taste of her own medicine.  I hope one of the guests is just now ordering dinner in there and doesn’t want to move to the main stage area!”

       Breanne cocked her head.  “Melanie, that’s a little cruel.”

       “So is what happened to you!  I was there!  There were 98 minutes purchased.  I would imagine that Sade is enjoying riding your last fifteen or so.”

       Breanne’s eyes widened at the thought of such a large number.  “That is going to be a lot of money.”  She said.

       Melanie nodded.  “Almost five grand.  Some girls don’t even take that home on an auction and working the entire evening.”

       Breanne smiled.  “Well it was worth it I guess.”

       “How are you feeling?”

       I ache, but mostly from being tied down, though I admit I’m a little tender.  I think I’ll pass on sex for a little while.”

       Melanie laughed.  “Well you don’t go up for auction until after midnight.”

       “What do you mean, up for auction?”  Bre asked in shock.

       Melanie nodded.  “The wrestlers still have to go up for auction.  Every girl does, no matter what you’ve chosen to do.  So you better rest and give your body time to recuperate.  After seeing you up there on the punishment chair, I can tell you that there are going to be a lot of interested men.  I know, I did the rounds of the arena and kept egging them on to buy minutes.”  Melanie said satisfactorily.

       “You what?”  Breanne asked in astonishment, totally unprepared for Melanie’s statement.

       “Well of course I did!  Each minute of punishment you got was another fifty dollars so I spent my time going from table to table getting the guests to purchase a minute.  I did pretty well too, if you ask me.”  Melanie gave her self a self congratulatory squeeze, not noticing Breanne leaning forward.

       “You mean I was tortured because you egged guests to do me?”  Breanne said.

       Melanie nodded, smiling, totally missing the dangerous look in Breanne’s eye.  “Yep.  I even told them that you liked it.”

       For a moment, Breanne just sat there, stunned, then sighed, leaning back into the sofa, the dull throbbing ache slowly dissipating.

       “Here, take these.”  Melanie said, holding out a pair of aspirin tablets and a small cup of water.  Breanne took the two small pills and swallowed, hoping that the pain killer would go to work quickly.

       She leaned back, closing her eyes when she heard the door open and William Price’s voice filled her ears.

       “Well, Ms. Erikson, you certainly know how to make men desire you.  The entire guest compliment are all talking about your punishment after losing in the arena.  How are you feeling?”  He asked.

       Breanne opened her eyes and smiled. “I’m okay, Mr. Price.  Just a little tired.”

       Price hesitated a moment, glancing over at Melanie.  “Well, I can understand that, though I need to tell you that we’ve had a special request from one of the clients who was in the arena tonight.”  Price folded his hands together.

       “He has asked that you be prepared for his dining pleasure, and wants to know if you are available.”

       Melanie immediately stood up.  “Will!  How can you even ask that?  After what Breanne has just been through?  My God!”

       Price backed up.  “Wait a moment, Melanie, I’m just passing on the request.  I can do that, and Breanne can certainly decline.  Besides he only offered fifteen hundred.”

       Melanie frowned.  “What a cheap skate!  Even if she was in a condition to do it, that wouldn’t cover it.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Yeah, fifteen hundred isn’t enough.  Tell him that I decline, Mr. Price.”

       Price shook his head.  “Otherwise occupied, Ms. Erikson.  And I won’t repeat Melanie’s or your comment to him.  Maybe he will settle for one of the other girls.”

       Melanie scoffed.  “Not at fifteen hundred!”

       Breanne laughed.  “Just over price him, Mr. Price.  Tell him I’m only available at six thousand.  He won’t go for it then.”

       Price thought about it for a moment and then nodded.  “All right, I’ll do that.  Hope you recover quickly!”  He smiled and then left.

       “Yeah, me too.”  Melanie said, patting Breanne’s hand.

       The auburn haired girl smiled back and gave a deep sigh.  “Actually, I think a shower might be the perfect thing.  I’m still slick with this oil, my hair is matted with it, and I think I would feel rejuvenated from head to toe.”

       Melanie nodded.  “Yeah that would be the ticket.  Why don’t you tell me what you want to wear tonight and I’ll lay it out before you get in the shower.  The less you have to do, the better you’ll feel.”

       Bre nodded.  “Thanks, Melanie.  That would be fantastic.”  Breanne closed her eyes and laid her head back against the couch while Melanie stood up and went over to the costume racks, carefully choosing out Breanne’s attire for the evening.  It was several minutes later when Price reentered the dressing room, an upset look miring his normally relaxed features.  Melanie saw him head toward the couch and made a beeline for him.

       “What now, William?”  Melanie asked, a gold sequined dress draped over one arm.  She had one hand on her hip and had cocked her head.

       “Uh…well…see…we’ve got a little problem.”  He said.  Breanne opened her eyes and looked up at Price.

       “What kind of problem?”  Melanie asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

       “That client who wanted Breanne on a platter agreed to the six thousand dollars.”

       “What?”  The question came from Melanie.  “Oh my God!”

       Price sighed and looked down at Breanne.  “Bre, I hate to do this to you, but I have to almost insist that you agree.  He met your quote.”

       Melanie opened her mouth as if too argue, but Breanne cut her off.  “I understand Mr. Price.  I made the offer.  I shouldn’t have if I wasn’t able to service the client.  Can you give me a few minutes to shower though?  I’m still covered with oil.”

       Price shook his head.  “Sorry, Bre, but we need to get you to the kitchen right away.  He’s already eating dinner and he requested you be prepared as dessert.  They’ll give you through washing and have you looking a million dollars in the kitchen.  Our chef is the absolute best.”

       Melanie was seething, her fingers clenched tightly.  “William, I can’t believe you would allow her to do something like this!  I thought you cared about us!”

       Price stiffened.  “I do, Melanie, and I am not happy about this at all.  The good news is the client will be eating in the arena, and it’s not like Breanne is going to one of the torture rooms.  And we both know that dessert usually only takes twenty or so minutes.  Not like the full hour dinner does.”

       Breanne suddenly looked up.  “You said he’s in the arena, and is eating there?”

       Price nodded.  “Yes.”

       “Oh my God!  Sade is in there!”  Breanne exclaimed, her eyes widening.

       Melanie scowled.  “Well I don’t see how that makes a difference.  She knows what losing means.  She certainly deserved it after tricking…”

       Breanne gave Melanie a dark look which ended the tirade.  She turned back to William.  “All right, let’s get this over with.”

       “Okay, I’ll take you to the kitchen.  Why don’t you hop back into the wheelchair?  It’ll be easier on both of us.”  Breanne shrugged and slowly rose, her ache obvious to everyone.  She stepped over to the chair and sat down, easing herself into the seat with a grimace.

       “You need to hit the floor Melanie.”  Price said pointedly, turning Breanne toward the dressing room door to the administration hall.

       Melanie grimaced and stuck her tongue out at Price, but turned around and headed for the backstage door that led into the lounge.

       Price sighed.  “That girl…”

       Breanne chuckled.  “She’s a sweetie, always looking after me.”

       “I know.  She’s like a mother and best friend all rolled into one.  Last year I had a really bad case of bronchitis and she actually stopped working for three days to stay at my place taking care of me.  It was actually kind of refreshing.  We just talked and it was nice seeing her in regular clothes.”

       Breanne looked up at Price, a look of curiosity on her face.  Price shrugged.  “It can get a little tiring having so much eye candy to look at.  You start to get used to it.  A girl in blue jeans, a button up long sleeve shirt, and a winning smile is sometimes better.  You get to discover what’s in her head as well as under her clothing.”

       There was a tiny laugh from the girl in the wheel chair as they made their way down the administration hall.  Breanne heard the clanking of pots as they went all the way to the opposite side of the building, away from the arena.  They rounded a door post and Breanne pushed the two swinging doors open with her feet as Price wheeled her into the large loud kitchen.

       “Ahhh…there she is!”  Cried a man with a large chef’s hat.  He was a small man with clean short raven hair, sparkled with slight bits of gray, and his mustached curled upward as he smiled at Breanne.  “Moi cherrie!  I am so pleased to meet you.”  His thick French accent made Breanne return the smile. 

“Bonsoir, monsieur.”  Breanne replied.  “Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer.”   She said, startling William Price and bringing a smile to the Frenchman’s eyes.

       “Oh my dear, it is so pleasing for this Frenchman to hear someone speaking a civilized tongue, but we should respect those in our surroundings and speak this barbaric language they call English.”  He laughed.  “I presume you are the young lady that we are to prepare for dessert?”  He looked up at Price.

       “Yes, Chef.  This is Breanne.  Please be gentle with her.  She endured almost a full hour and a half on the punishment chair in the arena and she is still a little tender.”

       The Chef nodded.  “Oui, Monsieur Price.  We will endeavor to make her most comfortable.”  He held out his hand to Breanne.  “Come, cherrie.  Let us get you prepared.”

       Breanne took his hand, letting the white capped man pull her from the wheel chair.  For a moment she stood unsteadily, but then she found a secret reserve of strength and stood up straight.  She smiled at the Chef and then grinned at Price, moving forward through the kitchen, naked, glistening with the remnants of oil.  The Chef led her to the very back of the kitchen, to a large shower area, easily big enough for two people, and only closed off from the kitchen by a pull curtain that hung on a half circle rod.  A large leather padded bench stood in the stall, complete with leather cuffs on both ends.

       “Please, cherrie.  Lay down on your stomach.”  The Chef said, pulling the shower curtain half way closed.  He stuck his head out into the kitchen and yelled something that Breanne couldn’t make out as she lowered herself down.  It felt good, despite her sore breasts, and she trembled slightly as she felt the Chef’s fingers tracing up and down her body.

       “You are a prime specimen, cherrie.  I must inquire if Monsieur Price would allow you to work at my restaurant for special occasions, though I doubt it.”  There was a clattering as a large cart with a metal pot swinging from a metal stand appeared at the curtain.  A young man was pushing it, dressed in kitchen whites and a blue waterproof overall.  He nodded at Breanne and then moved the cart toward Breanne’s feet.

       “I’m ready, sir.  The wash is all prepared.”  He said.

       “Excellent.  Madamoiselle Breanne, this is Walter.  He will be preparing you.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Merci, monsieur.”  The Chef smiled and patted her bottom once, stepping out of the shower.

       Walter wasted no time, immediately bending down.  Breanne felt his fingers along her legs, parting them to the sides of the bench and then quickly buckling them down.

       “Please be gentle with me, Walter.  I’ve had a rough night.”

       Walter laughed.  “I know. I served a couple of dishes out in the arena tonight.  You looked fantastic up there you know.”

       Breanne chuckled in spite of her self.  “Thanks, I think.”

       Walter moved around to her arms, gently lifting them and securing each wrist in the leather cuffs.  “No, I’m being totally honest.  Some of the girls who wrestle aren’t as elegant.  They fight, scream, bellow, even curse.”  He shook his head.  “You on the other hand endured stoically.”

       Breanne glanced up at the man.  “You’re a poet, Walter.”

       He laughed.  “Not really.  Just a sous chef.”  He moved back down toward her legs and then whistled slightly.  “Wow.  That chair did a number on you.”  He said.

       Breanne tried to look back over her shoulder.  “What do you mean?”  She asked, her voice filled with concern.

       Walter waved his hand.  “Oh, nothing to worry about.  You aren’t torn or anything.  That’s always a concern.  I don’t like the fact they use anal probes on the girls here.  The chance for damage and infection is too great, but I suppose you are used to it?”

       Breanne shrugged.  “I can put up with it.”

       Walter made a disbelieving sound.  “Sorry.  My number four rule is that the anus is an exit, not an entrance.”

       Breanne laughed.  “That’s not really an option for me.”

       “Me neither, actually.  Okay, let’s start this up.  I’ve only got about ten minutes until the Chef needs you on the dessert platter.”  He reached over to the cart and pulled out a thick rubber hose.  The end was capped with a phallic type bulb, the opening of the tube fairly obvious.  The other end led to a spigot which was inserted in the bottom of the large metal pot.

       “All right, I’ve lubed this up pretty good, and I can see you’re still pretty wide from the anal probe on the chair.”  He pressed the bulb against Breanne’s bottom, slipping the large rubber plug into Breanne’s hole.

       Breanne gasped despite the gentle pressure Walter applied, and she fought to keep herself from clenching her bottom tightly.  The pressure was intense, but it didn’t stimulate her or ache like the spiraling anal probe on the chair did.

       Walter turned the spigot and Breanne felt a soft warm flow of water entering her behind.  She sighed.  Having endured enemas before, and knowing this one was to clean her, not torment her, she relaxed slightly.  There was a warm spray on her back and she realized that Walter had taken a soft sponge from a container of soapy water and had begun to lather the oil from her skin.  It felt fantastic.

       Walter laughed at her moan of pleasure. “I know, it feels pretty good, doesn’t it.  Every once in a while I go for one of those oriental massages they give down there at the other end of the Locke.  I love having someone’s hands massaging me, giving me the table bath.  It’s great.”

       Breanne nodded, a sleepy murmur coming from her.  It took a moment for Walter’s comment to percolate through her mind.  “You don’t bid on girls in the auction?”  She asked.

       “Nope.  I’m not into the pain thing.  I prefer soft sensual love making, with lots of oil, a variety of different chocolates, candle light, and a good wine.  Trust me, that can make plenty of heat without having to whip your partner’s bottom!” 

       Breanne smiled.  “Sounds very romantic.”

       “You like the idea?”  He asked.

       Breanne shook her head.  “It would be nice for a change, but eventually I’d get bored with it. I know it sounds odd, but I really do like the things that happen to me here at the Locke.”

       Walter shrugged, moving from her legs to her back as he washed her skin.  “It works for me.  The BDSM thing doesn’t bother me at all, which is why I can work here, but it isn’t a big turn on for me.”  He ran the sponge over her shoulders and then down her arms.

       “This is going quick.  How’s your bottom feel?”  He asked.

       Breanne shifted slightly.  “Full, but I’m really not the one to make a judgment.”

       “This isn’t supposed to hurt, Breanne.  I know some masters use enemas as a punishment, but this is purely a hygienic thing.  We make a special wash with some very potent herbs, a special type of bio degreaser, and rose petals.  It can actually heal chaffed skin.  I’m washing you with it too, since it’s great at removing mineral oil from the skin.”  Walter replied.  He moved over to the pot and checked its contents.

“I think you’re done.”  He turned off the spigot and took hold of the shower head.  It was mounted on a long metal flexible pipe that allowed it to be directed.  A pressure handle on the head turned the flow on and Walter positioned it so that the water would be directed between Breanne’s legs.  There was a soft hiss and Breanne felt the spray of water cascade down her buttocks and over her thighs. 

       Walter quickly reached between her outstretch legs and removed the plug, washing away the cleansing fluid immediately.  It took only a moment before she was sprayed clean.  Walter released the shower head and patted her once on the bottom.

       “I think we’re ready to do your other side now.”  He quickly reached down and released a clip on her ankle cuffs, keeping the banded leather wrapped around her ankle, but allowing a small clip to dangle free.  Her wrists followed and Walter helped her carefully to rotate until she was lying on her back.

       “Do I need to cuff you?”  He asked, looking down at her.  Breanne shook her head.

       “No, I can stay still.” 

       “Good.  This will go quicker then.”  He immediately began sponging her body, removing the mineral oil from her breasts, stomach, thighs, and shins.  He even lifted up each foot, rubbing the soles.  To Breanne, it felt incredible, the soft soapy warm water, Walter’s gentle ministrations, and finally being allowed to rest was too much.  She found herself dozing off, rousing only when Walter shook her shoulder.

       “Hey sleepy head, wake up.  I’ve got to douche you.” 

       Breanne blinked and then nodded.  Walter spread her legs and held a long plastic tube with a squeeze pump on the end.  He filled it with the same soapy rose water and deftly inserted the tube into Breanne’s sex.   She moaned slightly as it went in, oil and her own secretions still lubricating her depths.  With a gentle squeeze, he emptied it into her, the water gushing out, taking with it the mineral oil.  Four more times he cleaned out her sex, peeling back the folds of each petal and carefully washing the still tender girl.

       For Breanne, it felt incredible.  She was still tender and very sensitive, and Walter was careful to avoid touching her clit, but the sous chef made sure that every nook and cranny of the beautiful girl was clean and fresh.

       “There, I think we’re done.  How do you feel?”  He asked.

       “Can you do it again?”  Breanne asked jokingly, smiling up at the man.

       Walter laughed.  “I’m sorry, my dear, but the Chef needs you on the prepping table immediately if he is to have the dessert course out in another fifteen minutes.”

       Breanne nodded and sat up.  Her body still ached, but a lot of the pain and sensitivity she had received while on the punishment chair had disappeared. 

       “So I’m to be dessert?”  She asked, getting off the padded leather bench and standing up.

       “Yes, a chocolate fondue.”

       “Sounds decadent.”  Breanne said as Walter pushed the shower curtain back, once more letting the sounds of the kitchen fill the little stall.

       Walter nodded with a smile and motioned for Breanne to proceed him out into the kitchen.  A few of the other sous chefs working were preparing normal meals, and Breanne’s nose twitched at the scent of steak and mashed potatoes, rich marinades, and the buttery scents of delicate pastries.  But Walter led her past the chaotic frenzy of cooking in the main kitchen and led her to a small alcove at the very back.  A large wooden counter lined the wall, and a metal gurney, topped with a humongous silver platter, stood in the center.  For a moment Breanne stared at the platter, the idea of what she was about to do suddenly overwhelming her.

       “Hop up on the platter, Breanne.”  Walter said.  Breanne hesitated for just a moment but then sighed.  Putting her palms down on the cold metal, she hopped up, planting her bottom on one side.  It was very cold and she made a little whimper as she sat.

       “Now lay down.”  Walter ordered, holding up a small red silk pillow which he placed on one end of the platter.

       “It’s very cold.”  Breanne said, looking down at the polished metal.

       “I know. Sorry about that.  I can drape a blanket over you until the Chef gets here to start.”

       Breanne nodded. “I think I’ll be okay, but I may hold you to that.”  She slowly lowered herself down, allowing the cold metal to cool her back and shoulders.  She felt her head against the pillow and laid her arms and legs out.  Her lower legs dangled over the edge.

       “Oh!  Oui! Walter, excellent!  Go ahead and get her into position please while I have Mario bring over the fruit.”  The Chef said suddenly, appearing in Breanne’s vision, his mustache twitching.  Walter nodded and turned back to the counter.  When he faced the platter again, Breanne saw several metal instruments in his hands.

       “I have to go ahead and bind you in Breanne.  I’ll keep your hands down by your sides though.”  Bre nodded as there was a clicking sound and she felt the leather straps of her wrist cuffs being locked onto a small metal loop in the platter.  She tested it as Walter leaned over her naked body, pulling hard and then with all her strength.  The clip wouldn’t budge in the least.  Walter finished attaching her right wrist and then picked up the other metal instrument. 

       Breanne looked at it in curiosity, trying to understand its purpose.  It was a long “Y” shaped metal rod that easily spanned a three feet at the top and was a foot and a half long.  Metal loops stood out on the tops of both rods and Breanne could only assume it was for her ankles.  But to her surprise, Walter moved around to her head, pushing the metal attachment into an insert directly above her on the platter.

       “I presume you’re pretty limber?” He asked, as he moved back toward her knees.  He picked up a small black spreader bar from the counter behind him and quickly attached the ankle cuffs to it.

       “I don’t understand how you’re going…”  Breanne began, only to be interrupted by Walter pushing her legs up, knees first to her stomach, then to chest, bending her in half.

       “Oh my God!”  Breanne exclaimed, her body folding.  Walter tugged on the spreader bar, pulling it up farther and farter until it seemed as if Breanne was looking out from between her own legs, her nose inches from her swollen sex.  Her eyes betrayed their panic.

       “Please no! Walter!  You can’t…I can’t breath!”  She said.

       Walter reappeared in her sight, stroking her trembling thighs.

       “Yes you can, dear heart.  I’ve got it as loose as I can make it.  Hold on, and I’ll get the back support in.”  He reached around to the counter and quickly pulled out another silk padded support, this one firmer than the pillow, shaped like a prism, which he quickly slid underneath the small of Breanne’s back.

       Breanne sighed with relief, uncomfortable, but no longer in a panic.  Her body was splayed, her legs outstretched above her head, toes pointed.  Her gaping sex opened straight up, pointed at the ceiling.  Walter spent a minute fastening a pair of gold high heeled shoes to her feet, and then stepped back as the Chef appeared, checking on his work.

       “Excellent.  Let us begin the dipper placement please.”  The Chef said.  Walter nodded and the two men immediately laid out large cabbage leaves around Breanne’s body, covering the platter bottom.  As soon as they were finished, they began placing slivered fruit in colorful patterns on the leaves.  Walter held up a piece every now and then so Breanne could see.  It was obvious that every dipper was at least three inches long, and some, like the bananas, weren’t even cut.  It didn’t take them very long to finish.

       As the Chef was putting on the final touches, Walter lubricated an anal plug with a flush flesh colored base, and deftly inserted it into Breanne’s bottom.  He gave her a light pat on the bottom as she squealed, smiling.  Then the men took two straps, wrapping them around each thigh. 

       “Clamps”  The Chef said.  Walter slapped a pair of clamps, each with a long black string attached, into the Chef’s hands, reminding Breanne of a surgeon and his nurse.  She wondered where the clamps would go, when she felt the Chef’s fingers slipping through the petals of her sex.  She felt a tight pinch on each of her outer labia, and then the strings were pulled outward to her strapped thighs.  In moments her sex was stretched wide open, the petals forming a large bowl.

       The Chef bent down low, examining her body, and then Breanne watched as he lifted a piping applicator, the tip a wide star shaped pattern.  A thick chocolate frosting oozed from the tip, and he outlined her sex.  It felt strange, but not unpleasant to Breanne who could smell the chocolate, a dark fruity scent.

       “Seventy percent Columbian cacao, moi cherrie.”  The Chef said, smiling at her.  He turned to Walter and nodded.  “Get the fondue chocolate please.”

       Walter disappeared but returned a minute later holding a pot.  Another scent of chocolate, this time sweeter, wafted across her nose and Breanne bit her lip as the pot came closer.  Walter positioned it above her sex, tipping it, and Breanne tensed as she saw the warm liquid chocolate spill out of the pot.

       It splashed upon her clit first and the direct heat startled her, forcing her to cry out, bucking her hips.  Chocolate splashed down, most flowing into her open well, But a few streams escaped as she bucked, her voice rising in protest.  The heat seeped into her, not burning, but uncomfortable, like a hot wash. 

       “Powder her and take her out.”  The Chef said, nodding in satisfaction.

       Walter took a shaker of powdered sugar and liberally doused Breanne, leaving a snowy white coating all over her body.  It took only moments and then Breanne felt the cart moving, giving her upturned face a different view of the ceiling.

       They left the kitchen, and Breanne recognized the ceiling tiles of the administrative hallway.  It was a smooth ride and Breanne had become accustomed to the heat and pressure inflicted upon her sex.  They pushed through the main hall doors, and then back into the richly decorated hall that led to the extra client areas of the Locke.

       Once more Breanne found herself in the arena.  It was much quieter with the exception of the sound of one woman’s voice moaning loudly.  Breanne couldn’t see, but tried to look around her legs.  As the cart was pushed up onto the second tier of the dining area, she caught sight of Sade, hanging limp in the punishment chair. 

        Breanne figured it had been about forty five minutes since she had left the arena, and Sade looked as if she were in distress.  He still glistening skin radiated the light and her head seemed to loll to the side, her hips thumping, causing the chair to rock.  Then Breanne couldn’t see her as they arrived at a table.

       There were voices there, several men, and Breanne thought she could hear a woman as well.  She could hear the clanking of dishes being cleared from the table, and then she was lifted, the platter turned and slid across the dining table, positioned perfectly for Breanne to see Sade, suffering on the punishment chair.

       “Oh, this is excellent!  Look at her!  So beautiful!  I’m almost glad I lost so much money on Sade when she lost the match!  I never would have thought to have dessert like this!”  A man’s voice said.  Breanne wasn’t able to see the man, but felt movement all around her.  Suddenly a hand appeared near her face, holding a long sliver of melon.  It lowered, dipping into the chocolate soup, and she felt it strike her clit and then slide inward just a bit.  She moaned.

       “Oh, Michael!  She’s a moaner too!”  A woman’s voice said.

       There was some laughter and then the man named Michael replied.  “Well Tara, you feel free to make her moan as much as you want.  I was told she’s good friends with Sade there, and a newbie to the club as well, so we might as well make her initiation a good one.”  Breanne grimaced as another long piece of fruit was thrust into her.

       “How did you find out about these ‘desserts’?”  Another man asked.

       Michael replied.  “Well there was one of the other girls making the rounds during the match.  I forget her name, but she was one of the pretty brunette girls, you know, the girl next door type.”  He paused and Breanne watched another sliver of melon dip into the well between her legs. 

       “Anyway, while Breanne here was just getting on the chair, she told me that Breanne was a bit of a glutton for punishment and enjoyed being on the chair.  She got my interest up so I went ahead and purchased about twenty minutes of punishment time for her.  Anyway, she found out I had bet on Sade and made the suggestion that if Sade lost, I should order dessert ‘a la girl’ so I could make Sade suffer longer, as she said.  When she explained it, I thought it was a great idea so when my champion lost the match, I went with it.”

       Breanne gasped as a large banana was thrust into her body, chocolate overflowing the lips of her sex.  She felt a probing touch on her nipple as a finger reached in between her outstretched legs.  

       “Careful!  You’ll lose all our chocolate!”  There was a chorus of laughter and another spate of dipping as the assembled diners each took turns pushing various bits of fruit and even a few marshmallows into Breanne’s chocolate honey pot.  It wasn’t long before enough chocolate had been eaten to expose Breanne’s clit, and each diner made sure to stroke it with their dippers.

       It wasn’t long before Breanne was moaning, fingers tweaking her sensitive nipples, her clit throbbing.  It was impossible for her to thrust her hips up, the maddening touches and penetrations beginning the torment of denial.  Unlike Sade, who was still writhing and bouncing on the punishment chair, Breanne wasn’t being stimulated beyond orgasm.  Every tiny touch merely excited her, even the uncomfortable position, and she found herself ripening.

       “I think she likes this.” Tara said.  “I think I can taste her now in the chocolate.”

       “Mmmm…yes it does add a bit of flavor to it.”  Michael replied, dipping a strawberry into Breanne’s sex.

       “It’s too bad we’re almost done, but I have to admit I’m very full.”  Another man said. 

       “Well we shouldn’t get too wrapped up here in the arena.  As nice as it is to punish Sade and eat our dessert from this girl, the main lounge will have a broader selection of goods.  Though I admit, I’m thinking of bidding on Sade, or maybe even Breanne here.  She seems to be a good sport.”

       Suddenly a man’s face appeared between her legs, brown hair, blue eyes, mustache, slightly puffy, but kind.  “Are you a good sport, Breanne?”  He asked intently.

       She nodded.  “Yes sir.”

       “Then you won’t mind if I stick this whole banana in you, then?”

       “No sir, I don’t mind.”

       “What if I wanted to stick a frozen banana into you?”  He asked.

       “You can do whatever you want to me sir.”

       “Are you bisexual, Breanne?”

       “Yes sir.”  She answered.

       “So if Tara wanted to buy you tonight, that would be okay?” 

       “Yes sir, anyone can buy me.”

       He held up the banana and began to push it into her pussy.  “You want to orgasm, don’t you?”  He asked.

       Breanne let out another moan. “Yes sir…so much.”  She closed her eyes.

       “No. Open your eyes.”  He pushed the banana in all the way, filling her, making the excess chocolate still inside her ooze out around the banana.  He pumped it a few times but the banana broke, half of the elongated fruit still inside her.

       “Damn.”  He said with a chuckle.

       “I’ll get it out.”  Tara’s voice said.  Breanne watched through her outstretched thighs and a beautiful blonde lady, dressed in flowing scarlet with a deep neckline and glittering diamond on her neck and ears appeared.  She held up a large metal spoon, and tapped it roughly against Breanne’s clit.

       “Ohhhh…God!”  Breanne hissed as her clit throbbed. 

       “Let’s see if we can get that banana out!”  Tara said, a vicious grin on her face.

       Breanne felt the spoon slip in as Tara wiggled it down between the sides of her well.  The blonde woman drove it deep, and Breanne moaned as it struck the back of her sex.  There was a strange sensation as Tara scooped the bottom of the fondue pot, and then a loud sucking noise as the banana, covered in chocolate and Breanne’s juices emerged from the chocolate covered well.

       There was laughter all around and then, to Breanne’s astonishment, the diners rose, chatting as they made their way out of the arena to the main lounge.

       For a few minutes she lay there, watching Sade on the punishment chair before anyone came.  Sade was being lowered as two busboys quickly moved up to Breanne and released her ankles from the cuffs, carefully letting her body stretch itself back into a normal position.  Breanne groaned, her body aching as her legs were returned to the appropriate position.  The platter was lifted and she felt herself being carried back to the kitchen, the sights and sounds and scents of the arena disappearing quickly.

       

Chapter 14: Another Auction

       She had practically slept through the soft and gentle bathing that Walter had given her.  The metal cart had been pushed under a hand held shower head and the kitchen attendant started by sluicing the chocolate smears from her skin.  It only took him a moment and then she had sighed in pleasure as her legs and wrists were freed from the metal restraints holding them in place. The water was pure pleasure, warm and cleansing as it cascade down her curves.  She had stretched, relaxing in the heat, only tensing as Walter had carefully parted the petals of her labia, opening her so that he could clean her insides as well as the outsides.  When he finally patted her on the shoulder, waking her, the metal gurney she lay upon was clean, its wet metal rims shining.

       “You’re all ready to head back out, Breanne.”  He said, a smile playing across his face.

       “You’re a sweetie, Walter.”  Breanne replied, slowly sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge.

       Walter grabbed her arm as she swayed a little during her attempt to stand.  “Careful now.  You’ve been through an awful lot.  You might want to take it easy for the rest of the evening.”  He said.

       Breanne nodded.  “I’ll certainly try, but I’m not sure how successful I will be at that.  At least I can avoid the floor if I want, but from what I’ve been told, I’ll still have to be auctioned off.

       Walter sighed.  “The abuses we inflict upon you girls…” he said trailing off.  He shrugged his shoulders.  “Oh well, if you can handle it.  Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.  Anytime.”  He gave her a pat on the shoulder and moved away, reentering the teaming activity in the kitchen.

       Slowly, Breanne got to her feet and moved out of the washing room.  A few steps took her out into the administrative hallway and she quickly found her way to the girl’s dressing room, opening the door to the hustle and bustle of costume changes and makeup applications. Surprisingly, her body wasn’t sore and she felt only the last vestiges of her physical ordeal.  She didn’t see Melanie anywhere so she stepped over to one of the vanities and looked at her reflection.

       She was scrubbed clean, with not even the remnants of her eyeliner still in place and she sat down, reaching for the necessary ingredients to “refinish” her looks.  Makeup was the one aspect of the business that Breanne never cared for, despite her skills at application.  She preferred the fresh scrubbed look, and always made sure that her chemically artistic enhancements always enhanced her natural beauty, rather than replace it.  Fifteen minutes later she looked almost the same as before, yet with smoother skin, deeper highlights above her eyes, and with fuller lips.  Sighing, she sat back in the chair, only just realizing that she was still naked.

       Standing, she quickly chose a costume, a slit dress with a “V” neck collar that plunged all the way to her belly, baring her graceful curves.  Large portions of both breasts were exposed, with only the center circle covered by the satin like cloth.  Bre stood gingerly, then with more confidence as her body responded correctly and she checked the clock.  It was only a few minutes after midnight.  Slipping her tiny feet into a set of high heels, she made her way out onto the floor.

       The blaring music of the main hall hit her like a brick as she stepped out of the doorway between the main stage and the disc jockey’s booth.  There were a number of minor waves from some of the various girls working the floor, each which Breanne returned with a smile and little gesture.  It took her a moment, but she finally spotted Sade, once more dressed in iconic red, an arm draped around the shoulder of a large handsome black man.  Sade was engrossed, but after a moment, she saw Breanne and waved her over.  With a grin, Bre moved to Sade’s side.

       “Christopher, this is my friend, Breanne.”  Sade said.  “Sit down, honey.”  Christopher extended his hand to Breanne and grinned, his white teeth perfect.

       Breanne took it, feeling the soft skin of his palm, smiling as she sat down across from Christopher.  Sade was sitting on his lap and Breanne grinned.  Christopher was muscular and tall, something necessary to deal with Sade’s Amazon but feminine body.

       “It’s good to meet you sir.”  Breanne said politely.

       Sade laughed.  “Christopher is truly an enlightened individual.”  She said, a conspiratorial smirk on her face.  “He likes both white and dark meat.”

       Breanne bit her lip and looked slightly embarrassed as Sade laughed.  Breanne certainly had no prejudices, but was still uncomfortable with Sade’s directness. 

       “Personally, I think the gravy and the way you dress the turkey makes all the difference.”  Breanne replied, looking a bit awkward.

       It was Christopher who laughed. “You have a point, Bre.  But a lot of whites can’t appreciate a fine looking woman like my Sade.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Sade is very popular sir.”  She bit her lip, and glanced around.  “Sade, have you seen Melanie?”  She asked.

       Sade laughed.  “She got sold about forty minutes ago.  Right now she’s up in the school room, probably still dressed in that stupid little blue plaid skirt and knee highs,  bent over the teacher’s desk getting whacked with a yard stick.”

       Breanne couldn’t help chuckling at the mental image of Melanie dressed in a Catholic school girl’s uniform, being soundly spanked with the yard stick.  She shook her head softly until Sade interrupted her thoughts again.

       “Actually, I think you’ll be upstairs in a moment yourself.  It’s a bit after midnight and my understanding is you’re supposed to be up for sale in a bit yourself.”  Sade said pointedly.

       Breanne nodded.  “I know.  Will is probably holding it off for as long as possible since I spent so much time as dessert.”

       Sade grinned, her eyes flashing.  “Oh yes and my my you looked scrumptious down there, honey.  All decked out, covered in chocolate.   Just watching you made me want to come down and have a bite!”  She laughed as her left hand twitched at Christopher’s ear.  “Looks like your escort to the sale has arrived.”  She announced.

       Breanne looked up to see William Price standing next to her.  He nodded at Sade and greeted Christopher.  “Good evening sir.  I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight?”  He asked.

       Christopher nodded.  “I managed to ensnare the two prettiest girls in the place.” 

       Price grinned. “You have excellent taste sir.”  Price turned to Breanne.  “If you are not currently in the middle of something, its time for your auction.”  He said.

       Breanne nodded.  “I expected as much.  I’m ready.”  She stood up, putting her hand on Price’s arm.  “It was a pleasure meeting you sir.”  She said to Christopher, and then flashed another smile at Sade.

       As Price escorted Breanne toward the back entrance of the stage area, she leaned toward him.  “I heard that Melanie got sold earlier and went to something called the school room?” 

       William laughed.  “Yes, one of our regulars who weren’t here last night came and scooped her up.  She’s a favorite of his.  It’s actually not too bad.  We’ve got one of the upstairs’ rooms decorated like a classroom.  You know, school desks, chalkboard, science table, teacher’s desk, and the like.  It looks pretty convincing.”  He laughed as he pushed open the door.  “He likes his girls dressed up in little plaid skirts, white blouses, knee high stockings, and black platform loafers.  No bra or panties of course.  Then you meet the ‘principal’ in the classroom.”

       Breanne laughed.  “Quite an exotic fantasy.” 

       Price shrugged.  “Not any different from hospital rooms or dungeons.  We try to keep things interesting, provide different settings and the like.”  He turned and moved up the back steps of the main stage.  “Chelly is almost done and we can get started.” 

       They waited for two minutes as the current dancer finished her performance, coming down and giving Breanne a little smile.  Then Price grabbed Breanne’s wrist and led her out onto the stage.

       Once more she found herself in the brilliantly lit attention of the room and she wondered how many of the men present had seen her naked already.  It didn’t bother her of course, and she knew that in seconds they would ALL have seen her naked.  Patiently she stood next to Price who quickly pulled out a microphone and assumed his “announcer” pose.

       “Ladies and gentlemen, guests of the Locke, once more we bring a special treat to the stage.  As many of you have seen earlier, the Locke auctions off the services of our ladies.  The time frame is for an hour of your pleasure, upstairs in one of the private rooms of your choice.  Currently, we have Breanne Erikson, whom many of you might have seen earlier tonight in the Arena as she writhed most beautifully on the punishment chair.”

       There was a scattered round of applause and Breanne felt herself blushing.

       “And now I present Ms. Erikson.  Look at this beauty!  This auburn haired siren is five five and only one hundred and fifteen pounds.  Look at those graceful curves!  But wait…you should see Bre in her natural state!”  He looked over at Breanne.

       She nodded and began carefully peeling the dress open, slipping the shoulder straps off and letting the entire ensemble fall to the ground to puddle around her ankles.  She stood bathed in the flood lights, naked and vulnerable, her body an open invitation to every man and woman in the room.

       “Exquisite, isn’t she?  Now ladies and gentlemen, guests of the Locke, we will start the bidding at one thousand dollars.”  Price began.

       In seconds Breanne counted at least ten hands raised high throughout the crowd.  Price quickly increased the bids until only three or four hands were raised and the bidding war began in earnest.

       “I see nine, we have nine thousand.  Examine this beauty, do you really want her to escape?  Imagine being able to have her wrapped around you?  Her succulent mouth kissing you?  We have ten!  Ten thousand.  Do I have eleven?”

       Breanne let the bustle of the auction fade and she moved forward, going to her knees and spreading her legs wide apart.  Her petals were already wet and she ran her fingers through them, opening herself up.  It was lewd and promiscuous in the extreme, but it was the sort of behavior that excited the crowd.  She rolled over onto all fours, arching her back as she heard the bids top fifteen thousand.  She continued her display, ending up at the pole in the middle of the stage, just as Price exclaimed “SOLD!”

       Breanne looked over at Price and then across the room to the winning bidder, wondering who would be tormenting her shortly.  Her heart thumped painfully and her throat tightened when she saw the cruel smile of Tara, the woman who had earlier delighted in her chocolate laden suffering as dessert.  This time however, Breanne was able to see more of the blonde vixen, taking in the shiny black leather outfit that covered the woman from head to toe, with matching black boots.

       She hurried forward quickly as Price made to exit the stage and she snagged his wrist, pulling him forward to her, whispering.  Breanne watched as he nodded, glancing over at her.  He turned back to the winning bidder and nodded, speaking softly.  Then he stood up straight and motioned for Breanne to come to the edge of the stage.

       “Breanne, this is Mistress Tara, you will accompany her upstairs to a special reserved room.  You obey her every order.  You will need no costume and will accompany her immediately, in your current stage of dress.”  Price announced.

       Breanne nodded. “Yes sir.”  She said.

       Mistress Tara snapped her fingers. “Then get down here now, slut.”  The blonde woman ordered.

       Breanne didn’t hesitate, not even to turn around and take the back stairs of the stage.  She quickly moved to the edge, sitting down and slid off the three foot high stage to stand in front of her mistress.

       “Get on all fours.  You may crawl across the room to the stairs!”  Tara announced.  Breanne looked at Price who was slightly alarmed but kept his mouth shut.  Breanne nodded and then got down upon her knees, bottom up, until she was on her palms.  Awkwardly at first, she began to crawl across the room, slipping between the tables and chairs, humiliated and blushing as the guests around her studied her.  A sharp slap on the bottom from Mistress Tara hurried her even more and she found herself at the carpeted stairs the guests used to move to the second floor.  She crawled up them, another sharp spank encouraging her to ascend as Tara followed.

       Once more she found herself in the corridor above the main hall and she hesitated as she waited for Mistress Tara to direct her toward one of the rooms.  She rocked forward as Tara swatted her again.

       “Three doors down on your left, slut.”  Tara said, her hand swinging viciously again, leaving another pink hand print on Breanne’s bottom.

       Breanne scurried forward, the carpet thick yet rough upon her knees and palms.  When she reached the door she leaned up to open it, only to be grabbed by the hair and thrown down face first onto the carpet.

       “DID I TELL YOU TO OPEN THE DOOR SLUT?”  Demanded Tara, her eyes bulging.  Breanne looked up at her, suddenly frightened for the first time.

       “N-n-no ma’am.”  She stuttered.

       Tara eyes flashed in anger.  “You are to call me mistress.  You’ll be severely punished for that mistake, slut.”  Now get on your knees, NOW!”  Tara yelled.

       Breanne pushed herself up from the floor and immediately straightened up, her knees bent and supporting her weight.

       “Hands down at your sides.”  Tara said, her voice a little more calm.  Breanne swallowed and immediately complied with the blonde woman’s orders.  Tara removed a heavy leather collar and quickly buckled it around Breanne’s neck, pulling the auburn hair away.

       “Now, when you open the door, you will see Master Michael inside.  You will go to him on all fours and kiss his foot.  You will then lay down on your back, your legs spread and open to him.  You will not move from that position until you are ordered too.  Understand?”

       Breanne nodded. “Yes mistress.”  She said.

       “Open the door.” 

       Breanne reached up and twisted the handle, pushing the heavy wooden door open.  Inside was a single wooden pillar off center toward one wall, while a settee type sofa with only one arm and a comfortable easy chair sat against the opposite wall.  The room was carpeted in a heavy plush and Breanne licked her lips as she entered.

       Master Michael was sitting in the chair, is legs crossed, smoking a pipe.  He had been engaged in some reading material, but immediately focused on Breanne as she crawled into the room, her dark red hair shining lustrously in the subdued lighting.  She immediately came to him, her ruby lips pressing against his black patent leather shoe and then she rolled, spreading her legs and raising her sex as she lay back upon the carpet.

       “My my my, Tara!  How thoughtful.  You brought me dessert. Again it seems.”  Michael said, his eyes feasting upon Breanne’s body.

       Breanne looked up, seeing Tara upside down.  “She seemed impertinent to me earlier.  I wanted to teach her respect.”

       Michael gave a thoughtful nod.  “I suppose.  She is yours to do with as you please, of course.  Perhaps you should start with a pussy whipping, to test her obedience?”

       Breanne shuddered slightly, almost closing her legs.  Her sex was wet and dripping, a sudden heat flaring inside her at the thought of being struck between the legs.  Tara gave a soft laugh and moved over Breanne’s spread body, straddling the quivering girl.  Breanne tensed as Tara dropped, kneeling over Bre’s waist.

       “Now slut, keep your legs open.  This is your punishment for not calling me by my title earlier.  Failure to keep your legs open will result in more punishment.”

       Breanne’s hands tightened into fists and she felt her pussy throb in expectation.  She bit her lip, resolving to keep her legs open.  Tara moved above her and Breanne saw her pull the black leather glove from her hand, gripping it tightly in one fist.  With a swing, it came whistling down to strike the pink and wet petals between Breanne’s thighs.

       She cried out in an explosion of pain and sensation and it was only through sheer luck that she didn’t close her legs more than a few inches before remembering to keep them open.  Her clit stung, a sharp intense heat that seemed to burn her.  Another swing followed and Breanne’s hips danced madly under Tara, her heels thumping on the carpet.  Tears flooded her eyes as it became apparent that Tara was swinging with every bit of force she could muster, slapping the heavy leather against Breanne’s clit and sex with intensity and strength.

       On the fourth strike Breanne screamed, her hands coming up to Tara’s back, pushing against the woman.  Tara never waited, but swung again, the leather glove smacking soundly into the wet and swollen folds of Breanne’s sex.  The naked girl couldn’t take it and closed her legs, her body rolling in agony.  Tara snarled an oath, and twisted down, smacking the leather glove hard against Breanne’s upturned bottom.

       Breanne cried out, twisting away from the onslaught of blows, unwilling to present either her bottom or her sex to the blonde haired cruelty kneeling over her.  She felt the sting of the leather glove upon her hip and her thigh, and then the steel strong fingers of Tara turning her back over.

       “Open you legs now!”  Tara yelled, punctuating her sentence with another stroke.  Breanne sobbed, her tears streaming down her cheeks, fingers clenched tight as her arms wrapped around her body.  For a moment, the rain of slaps stopped and she opened her eyes to see Master Michael laughing softly.  With a shuddering whimper she opened her legs, trembling, exposing her bright pink slit.

       “Now you will stay like that, slut, while I deliver three more slaps to your cunt.”  Tara said, her voice menacing.

       Breanne let out a fresh sob, but managed to keep her legs open as the first strike pelted down.  A fiery heat flashed across her sex.  Breanne’s heels thumped on the carpet and she pistoned her hips in an effort to redirect the overwhelming desire to cover herself, to protect her most sensitive parts.  Tara swung her glove again, catching a bit of Breanne’s thigh, which stung, but took some of the brute force of the blow.  Breanne through her arm across her eyes, sobbing.  Tara pushed at her knees and Breanne knew what she had to do.  She spread her legs even farther, almost doing the splits, spreading her body open.

       The last blow was the worst.  A blistering swat that seemed as if a thousand pins had each been stuck into her tenderest flesh.  She cried out, screaming into her forearm, the wet heat between her legs overwhelming her.  She sobbed as Tara moved down to all fours, dropping the glove.  Breanne didn’t even notice until she felt the soft probing tongue of the blonde women.  Tara bent low, on all fours, sliding up Breanne’s body until Tara’s face was buried between the outstretched legs.  Like a cat licking up a bowl of milk, Tara took several long licks of Breanne’s juices, sucking on the splayed open girl’s clit.

       To Breanne, it was a delirious ecstasy.  She moaned, lifting her hips as Tara slurped at the wounded and tender petals of her sex.  Breanne couldn’t help herself, her own fingers going to the tender nipples, wishing that Tara’s leather cat suit was open and off, so that she herself could partake in the girl to girl lovemaking.

       Breanne moaned again as the first rushes of orgasm began to build and she grasped at Tara, stroking the dominant woman’s curves.  Tara continued her tongue lashing strokes until Breanne tensed.  Then, in what could surely be considered the most cruel action yet, she lifted her head and grabbed the fallen glove.  Before Breanne knew what was happening, the glove came swinging down to strike the swollen and soaked petals.

       The piercing cry filled the tiny room as Breanne’s orgasm rushed through her like a freight train, powered not from the pleasurable sensations of Mistress Tara’s tongue, but by the mighty smack from the black clad dominatrix’s glove.  Tara swung again, Breanne’s open legs and thrusting hips announcing perfectly the auburn beauty’s need.  In moments Breanne had received another three smacks and the super intense orgasm had faded into a blur of heat, pain, and pleasure.

       It was Master Michael’s applause that roused Breanne back to awareness and she looked up to find Tara standing above her, an inscrutable look upon the dark face.  Michael was in the same position as before, his legs crossed, his hands softly clapping.

       “Exquisite.  Quite exquisite.”  He said.  He smiled at Tara, nodding.  “I hardly doubt you are finished?”

       Tara gave a snort and shook her head.  “Crawl over to that post and kneel in front of it, with the post behind you and between your ankles.  Now move, slut.”

       Breanne blinked and nodded, slowly rolling to her hands and knees.  The room spun for a moment and she shook her head, clearing it.  A soft slap across her bottom reminded her of Tara’s orders and she moved over to the wooden post.  It was at least eight inches thick, and was mounted to the floor with a metal collar.  It was solid, polished and smooth, with even the corners slightly rounded.   Breanne noticed several metal rings embedded in the wood at varying heights as she moved around to kneel in front of the wood pillar.

       It took her a moment to settle herself and she watched Mistress Tara as she spread her legs slightly and kneeled in an appropriately subservient position.  Tara was rifling through a small chest behind the sofa that Breanne hadn’t noticed before.  In short order the dominatrix had removed a chain, a thin quirt, a set of ankle cuffs, and a thick black vibrator.  She approached Breanne with a mischievous grin.

       “Lay down on your stomach and spread your legs.  Keep the pillar between your knees.”  Tara ordered.

       Breanne looked up at the dominatrix, nodding, hoping the position would keep the evil looking quirt from striking her still tender sex.  She lay down, spreading her legs, feeling slightly awkward as she somewhat straddled the pillar.  She turned her head to the side, watching Tara as the blonde dominatrix moved closer, kneeling down by the pillar.  To Breanne’s astonishment, she felt the head of the vibrator slip through her petals, sliding up and down her slit, until fully lubricated; it sank deeply into her trough.

       “Nice and stuffed, yes?”  Tara said softly.  “Let me turn it on for you, though.”  There was a flutter between her thighs and Breanne felt the vibrator suddenly roar to life, an intense buzzing that was almost enough to arouse her to the heights she had so recently felt.  Tara’s hands grasped her ankles and began pulling and Breanne felt herself sliding backward, further and further.  There was a strange sensation by her inside thigh and then she felt the side of the pillar strike the base of the vibrator, pushing it deeper and holding it in place.

       Tara wasted no time in putting on the ankle cuffs.  Breanne moaned as the vibrator did its work, arousing her slowly but completely.  The naked beauty was grateful that it wasn’t pumping in and out, which would surely have brought her to climax.

       As soon as Tara was finished cuffing Breanne’s ankles, the blonde dominatrix yanked upward on both legs, curving them back around until she could clip the cuffs to a set of metal rings on the pillar, two feet up from the metal collar.  Breanne groaned as she was moved into an even more uncomfortable position, her own body grinding her sex down upon the vibrator.  Tara moved back around and clipped the chain to another hook directly above Breanne’s head.

       “Now, slut, I want you to lift your breasts off the floor, get those arms straight.”  Tara said.

       Breanne groaned but did as ordered, lifting herself up.  It was an incredibly uncomfortable position, especially with her oddly spread and angled legs, but she managed to lift up until her arms were straight.  Oddly, she could see Master Michael perfectly, her eyes almost level with his knees.

       There was a click at Breanne’s collar and then a sharp tug which pulled against her neck and Breanne’s heart gave a sudden flutter.  She tried to lower herself downward, only to find that the collar had become a noose.  She choked slightly and immediately lifted her head back up with her hands.

       “Now now, slut.  I don’t want you to choke yourself.  That would be unseemly.”  Tara said, squatting down next to the bound auburn haired beauty.  Breanne glanced at her, the tightness on her throat muffling the whimpering sounds she made.

       “The reason you are in this position, slut, is so that I can whip those pretty breasts of yours.”  Tara said, her voice reasonable.  Breanne’s eyes widened and she shook her head, the chain only allowing her a small amount of movement.  She tried to protest, but the leather around her neck allowed her only to make a frightened mewling sound.

       Master Michael nodded in appreciation.  “I have to admit, Tara, that the position you have her in is even better.  I love how her arms force her breasts out like that, squeezing them together.  And with her back arched like that, its even better than a bra.  I approve.”  He said.

       Tara smiled and nodded, lifting the quirt.  She moved it in front of Breanne’s nose and then brought it gently against Bre’s chin, sliding it down her arms.  Breanne felt the quirt’s long whippy handle against her forearms and then her breasts intruded, sticking out obscenely from between her limbs.  Breanne knew she couldn’t cover or protect her breasts.  Any movement would cause her to choke.  She trembled as the quirt slid downward over the upper slopes and then tapped lightly once across both nipples.  In moments it continued on until Breanne felt it once more on her arms.

       Tara brought the whip up again, positioning it perfectly over Breanne’s breasts.  Breanne’s breathing increased as Tara began slight soft taps.  They seemed to meld with the ongoing vibrations between Breanne’s legs and Breanne closed her eyes, moaning as the taps increased in strength and cadence.

       “Open your eyes slut.”  Tara ordered, delivering a much harsher stroke across Breanne’s breasts.  The bound girl gave out a choked cry, her eyes flying open wildly.  Tara nodded and continued her strokes, making each consecutive whip harder. 

       Breanne’s eyes teared up almost immediately and she looked over at Master Michael, who sat watching, his fingers crossed.  Too Breanne, the torment was horrible.  There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop Mistress Tara’s biting strokes.  Her body jerked with each blow, her arms trembling as the continual whipping took its tool upon Breanne’s poor breasts.  Red stripes crossed over and over until they merged, creating a deep swollen red.  Tears streamed down her face and she issued muffled yelps as each cut went across her breasts.

       Tara was no novice either.  She alternated her blows across the slope and undersides of Breanne’s bosom, never letting the quirt strike the same place twice in a row.  A lash across the tops, one to the middle, and then to the bottom, followed by another lash directly across the tender nubs had Breanne quivering like jelly, her arms taut and straight, her back forcing her breasts forward to meet the quirt.  The heat in Breanne’s breasts was increasing with each blow and finally the poor girl couldn’t take the next stroke and tried desperately to bring one arm across her breasts.

       But her awkward position immediately caused her to tip and Breanne had no choice but to put both palms back down as she felt the collar tug sharply into her windpipe.  She lifted herself up, feeling the cool rush of air flood through her throat to her lungs, only to be expelled again by a sharp stroke across her breasts.  Breanne screamed, or tried to, the collar still tugging tightly across her throat.  Tara gave one last tap, a half hearted little snap that was lost in the hot throbbing of Breanne’s breasts.

        Breanne’s body trembled, her breasts inflamed and burning.  She stared at Master Michael, who still hadn’t moved from his seat, his eyes intent on her suffering.  Mistress Tara moved behind the pillar and Breanne lost sight of her, unable to turn her head.  The sharp stroke of the quirt upon the bare sole of her left foot had her squealing, her toes twisting, pulling at the cuff.  Tara moved to the other foot, snapping the quirt down upon the arch of Breanne’s foot, a sharp sting that would have had the bound girl in tears, had it not been for long streaks already running from her eyes.

       Tara tapped each foot a few more times and then came back around to the front, squatting down upon her heels to look Breanne in the eye.

       “Are you well sauced now, slut?”  She asked.  Breanne nodded as best she could, croaking out a noise that might have been “yes mistress.”  Tara nodded.  “Do you think I should whip your tits some more, slut?” 

       Breanne’s eyes widened in alarm and she shook her head, almost choking herself, her arms trembling in exhaustion and pain.  Her breasts still throbbed with heat.  Breanne also still felt the buzzing vibrator between her legs.

       Tara nodded.  “Well, its decision time.  We don’t have many minutes left with each other, though I would gladly pay the same rate for another hour with you.  Unfortunately, the Silver Locke doesn’t encourage that sort of behavior, and I doubt you would be willing to offer yourself up to me.”  Tara sighed and lifted the quirt, sliding it over Breanne’s breasts with a teasing caress.  To Breanne it felt like hot coals being poured over her tits.

       “Five more stokes to your tits, three strokes to your cunt, ten strokes to your feet, or you can suck Master Michael’s cock and swallow every drop of cum you can get out of him.  What do you want?

       Breanne’s eyes widened as she saw the light at the end of the tunnel.  She lifted herself up a little higher to relieve the pressure on her throat and whispered her response.  “Suck cock, mistress.” 

       Tara stood and immediately unchained the collar from the pillar.  Breanne collapsed, her breasts hot and heavy underneath her as she pillowed them with her arms.  Her breath came unimpeded now as Tara began to unfasten her ankle cuffs, releasing her from the cramping position she had endured.  Slowly she unfolded, sighing in relief as her other foot came free.

       The blonde dominatrix tapped her bottom lightly with the quirt.  “Let’s go.  You said you would suck cock.  Get over there.”  Tara reached down and tugged out the vibrator as she whimpered.

       Breanne rose, trying desperately to summon the strength.  She slowly got to her knees and crawled across the floor.  Master Michael had uncrossed his legs and she practically clawed her way up his shin to rest upon his knee, pushing his thighs apart as she leaned heavily upon the soft cushion of the easy chair.  Her breasts still hurt, throbbing as they brushed against his legs and the chair, but she did her best to ignore the pain as she fumbled for the zipper of his trousers.  He didn’t help, leaning backward, his arms on the rests as she finally managed to unzip him.  He wore a pair of silk boxers underneath and it was easy to free his shaft, which stood upright, like the mast of a sailboat.

       Breanne opened her mouth as her right hand grasped the base of his shaft.  With the same skill that she had demonstrated over and over at the Locke, first with William Price and then later on several guests, she concentrated on the thick pillar of meat before her.  She brought her head down, her lips parting as she took his circumcised head into her mouth.  Her tongue swirled around the tip, suckling him as her hand stroked up and down.  She went low, trying to swallow as much as possible, forcing herself to gag on his cock.  Her movements became more intense as she went down upon him, his shaft striking the back of her throat, her saliva coating his entire length.  Tara stared, watching as her little slut sucked Master Michael’s shaft with almost loving intensity.

       Breanne felt Michael’s shaft tremble and she renewed her efforts.  There was a sudden shake and she felt Michael’s hand upon her forehead, holding her down, his cock filling her throat.  She gagged, trying to suck in air around his shaft when he exploded, thick white streams of fluid squirting out of his shaft into her mouth and throat.  She coughed once as some went down her windpipe and she tried to swallow the rest.  Streams leaked out of the corners of her mouth as she tried to swallow despite the still squirting cock in her mouth.

       Finally Michael went limp and Breanne swallowed the remnants of his essence, licking her lips of the salty slightly bitter cream.  She looked up at Tara, her lips still glistening with white, only to see the hard agate eyes of the dominatrix staring down at her.

       Tara suddenly reached down and grabbed Breanne by the hair.  “Don’t you dare stare at me like that, slut.  If you were mine you would be tied with your tits exposed, riding a vibrator while I whipped you for hours.”  She yanked back, pulling Breanne backwards until the poor girl fell, landing on her bottom.  Tara immediately reached down, kneeling next to Breanne, pushing her the rest of the way as the blonde dominatrix cupped Bre’s sex.  Breanne groaned as Tara yanked out the vibrator and pushed two fingers into the sopping wet well.  Two fingers turned to three and Breanne spread her legs wide apart as Tara bent over, her blonde hair falling down around Breanne’s face. 

       “You want to come, don’t you, slut?”  Tara asked, her voice a whisper.

       Breanne nodded, whimpering in need, her sex clenching around the thrusting digits of Tara’s right hand.

       “I wish you were mine, slut.  Perhaps I will arrange for Master Michael to buy you for me?  Your days would be filled with sex and pain, slut.”  Tara’s left hand found Breanne’s breast, grasping the still hot and tender nipple in a tight pinch, bringing tears to Breanne’s eyes.  The naked beauty reached out, covering Tara’s hand, pain and pleasure rippling through her.

       “Do you want to come?”  Tara asked again, punctuating the question with a severe twist on Breanne’s nub.

       “YES Mistress Tara!  Please!”  Breanne gasped, her body shaking under the onslaught of sensation.

       “You can purchase an orgasm, slut.  You may come, but then you will beg me to spank your clit again.  Another five strokes of my glove.  Do you still want to come?”

       For a moment, Breanne said nothing, her mind fighting the overwhelming need to orgasm.  Tara’s fingers plunged in and out of her body, sending shivers of pleasure, ripples of desire through her.  She wanted desperately to explode, to feel the release being offered, but her mind remembered the horrible awful spanking.  Her forced humiliation and punishment in front of Master Michael, having to hold her legs open, reeled through her mind.  Just as Breanne was about to say no, the thumb of the hand that moved between her legs reached out, flicking against her clit.

       “YES! I want to come!”  Breanne cried out, her hips rising to meet Tara’s next thrust.

       Tara’s eyes flashed with victory and she slipped a fourth finger into Breanne’s sopping sex.  The black clad dominatrix knew exactly how to stimulate the naked tormented beauty beneath her, and in seconds Breanne felt the wash of the most intense orgasm she had felt that night.  Her body tightened, toes curling as she spread her legs obscenely.  Her fingers clenched as she arched her back, the rushing sensation filling her completely.

       Then it was over.  Breanne would have collapsed had she been standing, her head rolling to the side, her chest heaving.  Her sex contracted several more times around Tara’s hand, the thumb still gently stirring against her clit, but the receding waves of pleasure were nothing compared to the tsunami that had struck her.  Tara said nothing, merely continuing her caress for a minute more as the auburn haired beauty calmed.

       There was a sucking sound as Tara removed her fingers, wiping them on Breanne’s outstretched thigh.  She reached up to Breanne’s cheek, turning it so that the she could stare into the red haired girl’s eyes.

       “Now, you will beg me to hit you.”  Tara said softly.

       Breanne swallowed, nodding, her eyes filling with tears.  “Yes mistress.” She whispered.

       Tara picked up her glove.  “Then do so, and extend your legs as far apart as you can slut.”

       Breanne opened her legs, feeling her thighs stretch as she spread herself, preparing for the cruel spanking.  Her body trembled in expectation of the pain and she wondered how she could have ever agreed to the spanking.  She dug her heels into the carpet, her aching thighs trembling as she did the splits.  She looked up at the blonde woman kneeling above her.

       “Mistress Tara, I’m ready for my punishment.  Please spank me.”  Breanne said, her voice quavering. 

       Tara nodded, one hand stroking Breanne’s cheek.  “And how many spanks do you deserve, slut?”  Tara asked, her fingers slipping over Bre’s inflamed nipple.

       For a moment, Breanne hesitated, confused by the question.  Mistress Tara had said she would receive five spanks for her orgasm.  Breanne opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly changed her answer.

       “Mistress, I deserve as many spanks as you want to give me.”  She replied, her face blushing crimson.

       Tara’s eyes sparkled and the blonde woman smiled, suddenly bending down, her soft pliant ruby red lips pressing to Breanne’s mouth.  The kiss was passionate, wet, and deep, and Breanne felt herself opening once more to Tara’s touch.  It was a long moment before the dominatrix broke the kiss, pulling away with a content look.

       “Oh, slut, how I would love to collar you and take you away.  I would torture you every day, making you beg me to punish you.  I would humiliate and denigrate you until you’re entire existence was nothing more than sex and pain and shame.  One day you will be mine and I will collar you.”  Tara replied, grinning.

“Now prepare yourself and keep your legs open.”  She raised her glove and looked down at Breanne, her eyes flashing.

“This is really going to hurt.”

Chapter 15: The Gym

       Sipping slowly from the steaming cup, Breanne Erickson turned onto the gravel drive of the Silver Locke and headed up the hill, the tires of her car crunching on the crushed white rock beneath.  It was early Saturday morning, a little after nine, and Breanne blinked away the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes.  The previous night had been a long one, from the wrestling practice with Sade, to the actual match, to being the dessert tray for two guests named Tara and Michael, to the sadistic hour long torments of Tara who purchased her during the auction.  Her breasts and sex were still sore.

       She hadn’t made it to bed until two in the morning, and she still wasn’t fully recovered from the previous night’s punishments, but she had agreed to meet a client in the gym that morning at ten, and Breanne was resolved not to be late for a meeting on her third day at the Locke.  She sighed as she took another sip of her espresso before parking her car in the near empty employee’s lot at the back of the facility.

       She was dressed casually, something that most of the girls who entertained at the Locke did when not on stage.  A tight pair of blue denim jeans hugged her hips all the way down to her dainty ankles.  Her feet were encased in two pink and white athletic shoes, wrapped around thick white gym socks.  A tee shirt with the red and white of her favorite college team clung to her chest, and the thin lines of a sports bra could be seen under the thin cotton cloth.        It took only a moment for her to grab a bag of her personal items and head toward the small back door of the Silver Locke.

       It was quiet inside, and only the muted whine of a vacuum cleaner coming from somewhere deeper into the labyrinth of private rooms, kitchens, offices, and the main hall betrayed the presence of the cleaning crew finishing.  She turned down the administrative hallway, heading toward the entertainer’s dressing room when she heard William Price’s voice coming from his office.  She passed the dressing room door and stuck her head in to the Entertainment Director’s office.

       “I understand Madam.”  Price was saying into a phone as he saw Breanne smile at him through the door.  He waved her in and pointed silently at the phone in his hand.  “Yes ma’am, I agree.  But the problem is that you have to make the request at least three weeks in advance.  There is no way I can guarantee…”  There was a sudden loud buzzing noise that even Breanne could hear and Price winced, holding the phone away from his ear.  Silently laughing, Breanne sat down in the chair opposite William’s desk as he rolled his eyes in exasperation.  Finally, when the tirade stopped he lifted the handset back to his ear.

       “Madam, the only way I could manage to find someone at this late time period would be for the standard price to increase.”  There was a pause and he nodded.  “Absolutely.  Yes I think that will be sufficient.  Yes, Ma’am.  Thank you.  I’ll call you when I have scheduled an entertainer for you.”  With a long sigh he hung up and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.

       “Sometimes I hate this job.”

       Breanne grinned.  “An important client with large demands?”  She grinned.

       Price nodded.  “Oh God yes.  She’s having a party.  Tonight.  And she wants an entertainer.”

       “Do you need me too….?”  She began asking and hushed as he waved her off.

       “Oh no.  You’re still too new to the Locke.  She can’t afford you.  Usually what we do is allow our more experienced girls to fulfill private party contracts unless a client specifically asks for a particular girl.  With what Ms. Rutger is asking, you would get seriously gypped monetarily.”

       She nodded.  “So with ‘more experienced’ you actually mean ‘not as interesting to the regular clients who come to the Locke.”  She said.

       Price frowned.  “Well some girls tend to lose popularity for various reasons.  It could be because of attitude, or just because the competition is steep.  You’ve already made a few of the other girls dislike you.  This is a tough business.  The private parties are a way for those girls that routinely get low bids here at the Locke to have a fair shot at some decent money.  It also allows me to pick specific girls for each client, and I can match certain likes and dislikes.  Not only that, but we never require our staff to serve at private parties.”

       Breanne looked intrigued.  “You don’t?”  She asked.

       Price shook his head.  “Our clients who request off premise entertainment are all vetted by the Locke as um…appropriately behaved.  They have a history with us and we know what they are likely to do to anyone working privately for them.  But unlike here, we can not police them to make sure that limits are not violated, and the entertainment isn’t pushed too far.  So there is a risk.”  He sighed.  “We do try to mitigate it somewhat.  Broken limits result in suspension from the club, higher fees, and the like.  In our twelve year history, we’ve only had two accidents.  Both resulted in suspensions.”

       Breanne looked appalled.  “Were the girls okay?” 

       Price nodded.  “Eventually.  One quit after she got out of the hospital.  The other stayed with us another year or so, and then went to live in Jamaica, sitting on the beach living off the interest of her investments.”  He smiled softly, obviously remembering.

“So who is going tonight?”  She asked with a smile.  Price shook his head.  “I won’t know until I’ve talked to a few of the girls, but with what Rutger is offering, I doubt that I’ll be left high and dry.”  He took turned to the computer and began typing the appointment into a scheduler program.

       Breanne arched an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.  “Don’t you have a secretary to make appointments?”  She asked.

       Price nodded.  “Actually I do, except she doesn’t work on Saturdays.  Usually we have very few calls on Saturday, despite it being a normal work day.  As a result, I usually answer my own phone on the weekends.”  He sighed again.  “I suppose you’re here for that early morning exercise session in the gym.”

       Breanne nodded.  “Yeah, I thought I’d get here a little early.  I’m still not totally sure what I’m supposed to be doing, or what I’m supposed to wear or anything.”

       Price laughed as he finished at the computer.  “Well, as far as what to wear, you can forget about that.  All you’ll need to do is show up in those tennis shoes and you’ll be fine.  Girls who are actually working go nude.”

       Breanne nodded.  “I think Melanie told me that last Thursday.  So I just show up and the client will direct me?”

       Price nodded.  “Your experience in the gym will depend on his mood.  We technically have two ways for the girls to participate.  The first is to get your own workout.  There are a number of specific pieces of exercise equipment that we’ve modified especially for girls working out.  However, we also have some special equipment that is for the client and a working girl provides…um…the motivation to exercise.”  He finished.

       Breanne cocked an eyebrow, clearly not at a loss.

       Price laughed.  “Tell you what, you’ve only got about thirty minutes before your client arrives, why don’t you get ready and meet me at the gym.  I’ll be there in about ten minutes and I can give you a small demonstration.”  He said.

       “Okay. I don’t think it will take me ten minutes to strip though.”  She replied, shrugging.  She stood up and headed to the door.  “See you in a few.”

       She exited the office as Price picked up the phone and she turned down the hall.  It only was a few steps to the entertainer’s dressing room and she quickly entered.  The room was laid out with a multitude of vanities, all well lit, with piles of makeup and racks of costumes.  Along one end of the room were several long leather sofas, comfortable and worn.  A small tiled entrance led off one side to the bathrooms and Breanne moved quickly down the room until she came to a small bank of lockers.  Quickly she spun the dial on her own locker, already brightly entitled with her name, courtesy of her friend Melanie, and put her bag away.  It only took her a moment to step out of her shoes and begin peeling her clothing away, eventually leaving her standing in the dressing room in nothing but her socks.  Feeling a tad awkward, she slipped her feet back into the athletic shoes and snatched up a long terry cloth robe, the silver padlock symbol boldly embroidered on the left collar.

       It was still two hours before the Locke performance hall opened at eleven, and she silently wished that her friend Melanie or even Sade had been there that morning.  Still unsure of what would be required of her, it would have been nice to have a chance to really talk about the gym with either experienced entertainer.

       She opened the door back into the administrative hall and turned left, quickly moving past the row of offices toward the main entrance.  The heavily tiled foyer was deserted, and the large wooden doors leading to the main hall were closed.  Breanne didn’t pause and quickly moved into the open corridor leading off to the right of the foyer, toward the gym, pool, and the wrestling arena.

       Breanne was becoming very familiar with this hall.  The first night she worked at the Locke she had been taken down this hall to the pool and spa, only to receive her second spanking of the evening, along with a very intense whipping of her breasts and sex.  On her second night, she had walked this hall with Sade several times, finding herself in the large hexagonal arena where she had endured the punishment chair, and even another time, strapped to a metal tray, folded in half, and filled with molten chocolate.  Breanne realized that she would traverse this path many times more.

       She stopped at the door marked “Gym” and tentatively opened it.  A crisp clean scent of lemons filled her nose and she stepped into the brilliantly lit room.  It was very large; easily the same size of the arena or the main hall, and almost every wall was tiled with mirrors.  The far back wall held three racquetball courts, each currently dark.  Several rows of exercise equipment stood in the center of the room and she saw William Price standing next to one pink colored exercise bike.  Sitting astride it, but not pumping her legs, sat her friend Melanie.

       “Melanie!”  Breanne exclaimed startled, but happy as her friend grinned over Price’s shoulder.

       “Well it’s about time you made it!”  Melanie exclaimed.  She grinned and waved motioned for Breanne to come over.

       It took a moment to weave through the various bikes, treadmills, and stair steppers, and already Breanne was seeing some very odd equipment for a gym among the standard calorie burning machines.   Most of the machines were painted a flat black, similar to every other gym she had ever been too.  But interspersed among the regular exercise machines were an occasional pink or red colored bike.  The odd colored ones were the most interesting. 

She approached Melanie and was only slightly surprised to find her sitting on the pink exercise bike naked from the waist down, the brunette beauty’s gym shorts draped over the handlebars.  Melanie grinned at Breanne’s astonished expression and gave the auburn haired beauty a mischievous wink.  With deliberate intent, Melanie began pedaling and Breanne watched as the pedals of the exercise bike rotated a rod which was attached to a shaft that seemed to go straight up into the seat of the bike.  Melanie let out a soft groan, rocking her hips slightly as she pedaled.    The moaning brunette lifted herself off the seat for a second and Breanne watched as a huge purple phallus surged upwards through a part in the seat.

       “Oh my God!”  Breanne exclaimed.

       William Price laughed.  “This is one of the ‘self-motivating’ pieces of equipment, Breanne.  There are a couple of others, but any of the exercise machines that are painted this pink color are intended specifically for the entertainers.”  He turned back toward Melanie who had picked up the pace of her cycling and was thrusting her hips back forth in time with the upward surge of the phallus.  It was fairly obvious that she was picking up speed.

       Breanne scowled at Price, but the look of amusement in her eyes made it apparent the dark look was a scam.  “I see.  Exercise until orgasm huh?  Burn more calories?”  She asked.

       Price laughed.  “Well you have to admit, it does burn a lot!”  He shrugged.  “Some of clients absolutely love it when you beauties come down here to exercise, though I admit there hasn’t been a lot of that lately.”  He looked thoughtful for a moment.  “Maybe we need to start requiring three hours a week or so.”

       Melanie grunted softly as she continued to pedal.  “I wouldn’t mind.  It wouldn’t hurt to shed a few pounds.”   She closed her eyes, obviously in ecstasy at the rapid up and down motion the pedaling provided.

       Breanne rolled her eyes and then turned back to Price.  “I guess I wouldn’t mind it either.  But I still have a question.  I understand the point of the pink painted machines, but what about the red ones?”  Breanne asked.  She had already seen a couple of mechanical attachments on the red exercise equipment and they didn’t appear to be for self-motivation.

       Price nodded.  “Yeah.  The red painted ones are for clients who have purchased an entertainer for private motivation.  For example, that bike over there…” Breanne looked over to where Price was pointing.  “That exercise bike also pumps a rod which connects to a phallus, except instead of it coming up through the seat like this one, it penetrates that saddle positioned in front of the handlebars.  That way the exerciser can watch as his entertainer is machine fucked over and over.  The idea is that the client will work harder at exercise if his labors have a direct effect.”

       Breanne looked astonished and the surprised.  “Wow.  This is actually a really cool idea.  I can’t think of a better way to get men motivated to exercise than this!”  She exclaimed, looking over at the saddle and phallus.  She imagined riding it as a client pedaled away in front of her.

       Price laughed.  “You would think it would be more popular, except that it’s just as expensive to hire a girl for this, when you could just as easily hire her for more private entertainment.  So really only the voyeurs and quirky guys like the gym.”

       Breanne looked thoughtful for a moment.  “How many girls would you need if you had to put one on every piece of red equipment?”  She asked, looking around the gym.

       Price thought for a moment.  “Oh about ten or eleven I think.  I’m not positive though.  Why?”

       Breanne shrugged.  “Advertise one special exercise day per week, get the clients to put in a meager fee, and then rotate out twelve girls for one hour periods while the gym is open.  The girls get to split the entire fee and you get a bunch of guys coming up to the Locke.”

       Price nodded, looking very impressed.  “Good idea, I could require the girls to do a pool and rotate them out during the event.  Hey, not bad, Breanne.  You would make a good entertainment director.”

       Breanne grinned, chuckling softly.  For a moment they watched as Melanie continued her pedaling, moaning with each turn of the crankshaft when there was a sudden cough at the gym door.  Breanne turned to see Richard walking toward her with a smile on his face.  He was dressed in a pair of bright red boxer type shorts and a heavy cotton tee shirt.

       “Good morning sir.”  William Price said, his demeanor changing immediately from casual to a more formal tone.  “Thanks for coming to the Locke.  No doubt you know Ms. Eriksson?”  He lifted his hand, motioning at Breanne.

       “I do indeed.  I had the pleasure to pussy whip Breanne on Thursday.”

       Price’s eyes widened slightly.  He hadn’t heard about Breanne’s adventure at the spa.  “I see, well I’m sure you will enjoy her company this morning.”  He paused and inclined his head toward Melanie who had slowed her self impalation pedaling to watch the exchange.  “I hope you don’t mind, but one of our other ladies is taking advantage of the gym.”

       Richard shook his head.  “Not in the least.  I will enjoy the company.”  He glanced at Breanne.  “Though I do believe Ms. Erickson is not appropriately dressed for a workout.” 

       Price grinned and immediately reached up, taking the collar of Breanne’s robe in his fingers.  Breanne was already loosening the waist tie and with just a quick tug, the robe was in Price’s hands, leaving Breanne naked from head to ankle, standing in just her gym socks and sneakers.  Her breasts were still streaked from the cropping they had received the previous evening, but she was still a beauty.

       Richard smiled, eyeing Breanne’s body like a hungry wolf.  “I suppose the smart thing to do is begin with a few stretches.  Right?”  He asked.

       Breanne grinned.  “Sir, we can do anything you want.  I’m your exercise companion this morning.  You choose what we do, where we do it, and for how long.”  She glanced over at Price who nodded his approval at her comments.

       “Well then, I think we should begin with a few stretches.”  Richard reached out and took her hand, leading her forward toward one of the few cleared spots in the room, standing her before the mirror, with him immediately behind.

       Price moved closer to Melanie as Richard and Breanne began a few limbering calisthenics. 

       “So what are you really doing down here, Melanie?”  Price asked as he watched Breanne bend down to do the splits, tilting forward so that her pink flower and bottom were exposed to the hungrily watching man behind her.

       Melanie shrugged.  “I’m just fucking myself silly on these stupid machines, William.  What do you think?”

       Price snorted.  “I think you’re being mighty protective of our new dancer, actually.  I don’t want you stifling her, Melanie.  She is one of the most versatile girls we’ve ever had and I need her.  There are some things she is willing to do that you and most of the other girls won’t.”

       Melanie had stopped pumping, her eyes still on Breanne as the auburn haired beauty did sit-ups, her client kneeling in front of her.  His knees were resting on the toes of her shoes and his hand was up between her legs, his fingers dipping into her sex, glistening wet.  With touch of her elbows to her knees, he sank his fingers to the knuckle.  Breanne couldn’t help moaning with each sit-up and Melanie shook her head with a sigh.

       “That’s the reason, Will.  Look at her!  She is an utter slut!  She doesn’t even think like a normal girl.  It’s all sex.  Her body is just one giant extension of her pussy and she walks around like that.  I’ve never seen anyone like that, Will.  I’m jealous, and I’m scared of her.  She has taken to almost everything there is to do at the Locke, even food preparation!  Part of me just wants to hang around until I find out what her limits are!”  She gave the pedals a partial turn, her bottom bouncing slightly as the phallus in the seat pistoned slowly.

       “Anyway, I want to protect her and watch her all at the same time.  Last night I was even making suggestions to other clients on how best to torture her!  I’ve never done that to any other dancer, Will.  Never!  I figure the clients don’t need any ideas, right?  But I want to see her suffer every little thing that’s ever been done to me and more.”

       Price turned and looked up at Melanie.  “I see.  Well if it were Sade saying that to me, I’d be worried.  But since its you, I’ll take it as just deep abiding friendship.”  He nodded to where Breanne was groaning.  “But Melanie, please don’t create any difficulties for me, all right?” 

       Melanie nodded and Price patted the pretty brunette’s leg.  With a turn he headed toward the doorway, walking past the already sweating beauty that was lying on the padded mats, eyes closed, moaning in pleasure.  With a shake of his head, he opened the heavy door and left.

       Breanne was in ecstasy.  This was the first time she had ever exercised in such a manner, and doing sit-ups with Richard plunging a few fingers into her body on every rise was so intense that she found herself summoning the energy to do a few extra.  She understood completely how the lusty desires running through her body could encourage her to new heights.

       “I think that’s enough, Breanne.”  Richard said, pulling his fingers out of her sex with a sucking sound.  He held them out to her and she quickly sucked on them, tasting her own tart juices.  It took her only a moment to clean them off and he grinned, wiping them on a spare towel before pulling her too her feet.  “I think you’re pretty well limbered up, and so am I!”  With a smile, he took her hand and led her down the row of exercise equipment until he stopped at one red painted stair stepper. 

       “I hope you don’t mind, but you look like you need a slight rest before a more exertion, so if you’ll just hop up on that saddle…”  Richard said, breaking off to motion her forward.  Breanne looked over at the machine and noticed a small saddle sitting in front of the stair stepped.  It was raised high, and there were spreader bars with small foot rests for her feet.  Gingerly, she climbed into the apparatus, sitting down and spreading her legs.  Richard took only a moment, bending down and tightening the Velcro straps around her ankles.  Reaching under the stair stepper, he pulled out a large wheel that was studded along the outside edge with leather straps.  Some where thick and solitary, while interspaced along the rim were multi-headed thin strands.  He clipped it into an inset between her legs, adjusting it forward until the leather was only an inch away from her still wet and glistening slit.

       Breanne leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening around the grasps.  It took no imagination to understand what was about to happen, and she was already pulling tightly on the ankle bonds.  Part of her was glad she was strapped in, but she was wishing that Richard had chosen a different machine.  As he moved onto the stair stepper the wheel turned slightly, and the first leather whip fell downward, striking her clit softly. 

       Breanne whimpered as the wheel began turning, the up and down motion of Richard’s steps driving the axle.  In mere moments there was a steady THWACK THWACK sound as the various leather straps struck the wet and pink petals of Breanne’s flower.  Her hips began to buck, trying to vary the points of impact, but her bound ankles prevented much movement.  For a moment, she brought one hand down, cupping her sex, but the angle at which she was mounted on the machine made it impossible to cover herself for more than a few seconds without having to regrasp the handle.  Soon her hips were dancing to the spinning wheel.

       Richard was having the time of his life.  Beads of exertion spotted his brow and already there were sweat stains on his shirt.  He knew, after almost ten minutes, that had he been at a regular gym he would have given up long before this.  He knew that the view of the beautiful red head, spread eagled before him, her pussy an inflamed gaping pink slit, repeatedly struck with the wet leather, was the encouragement he needed to really challenge him.

       But as she cried out and screamed, he felt his energy flagging slightly and he knew that each consecutive step was becoming harder and harder.  Finally, he stopped, checking his watch and nodding appreciatively. 

       “Excellent.  A full fifteen minutes on the stair stepper!  Fantastic!”  He said as he moved around to the front, his fingers ripping open the Velcro straps holding Breanne’s ankles.  Breanne lifted herself off the saddle, her body tense and the flesh between her legs burning.  She nodded her thanks at Richard who helped her down and stood, panting slightly as she regained her breath.        

       “Well you look ready for some more exercise.”  Richard said, laughing slightly.  “Ready to try some leg presses?”  He asked.  Breanne looked up and across the room.  Her friend Melanie was still seated on the pink exercise bike, slowly pedaling while watching Breanne in the mirror. Finally she turned back toward Richard and nodded.

       With a smile, Richard took her hand and led her across the room to another machine, this one pink.  It consisted of an upright seat with a large phallus embedded in the center along with what appeared to be a special plate to plant ones feet.  Richard helped Breanne up onto the seat and watched with interest as she carefully lowered herself down on the phallus.  She squirmed slightly as it embedded itself deep and she wondered what she was in for.  Richard spent a moment down at the end of the machine, evidently selecting the amount of weight she would be lifting, and then stood up, grinning at her. 

       “Give me just a moment to get set up next to you before you start Breanne.”  He said, hopping up onto the black colored leg press next to her.  In a flash he had pushed hard against the plate at his feet and a mass of weight rose on a cable.  Breanne nodded and copied his movement pushing hard.  Surprised at the strength of her legs, Breanne watched as the weights in front of her rose to the top of the column.  As they smacked into the top of the frame, she felt a sudden vibration between her legs and then disappeared as she lowered the weights.  She pushed again, once more feeling the buzzing vibrations of the phallus, and she realized that the pink leg press was designed to give a tremor of pleasure with each press.

       With her sex already in a state of hyper sensitivity due to the whipping, she moaned slightly as the vibrations stimulated her even more.  Pressing fast, she pumped her legs, almost desperate to feel the violent tremor that came with each straightening of her calves.  Over and over she pumped, her breath straining as her body demanded sexual release at any cost.

       “Whoa, girl!”  Richard said, and Breanne looked over to see him sitting on his seat, mopping his forehead with a towel.  “Slow down!  You’ll hurt yourself.”

       Breanne didn’t even realize she was panting and she slowly lowered the weights until they hit the bottom of the column.  Her legs burned and she squirmed, still impaled on the vibrating phallus that was disappointingly quiet.

       “A little horny, huh?”  Richard asked, pointing to her slightly spread thighs.  A small puddle of juices had soaked the padded bench.  Breanne blushed slightly and nodded.  “Yeah a little.”  She replied.

       Richard nodded.  “Well I think I’m ready to work on my deltoids now, so if you will please extract yourself from that little rod we’ll get you set up for a small rest while I do some reps.” 

       With a groan, Breanne lifted herself up, the sucking wetness of her body coming off the phallus.  She moved to the side and stood next to the seat and sighed.  Her body was already desperate and she hoped that Richard would eventually just want to fuck her.  Obediently, she followed the man across the gym, past Melanie’s still slowly pumping bike ride, to an odd red painted contraption against one wall.  Richard took her by the arm and moved her in between the heavy side bars and then pulled a long heavy leather buckle attached to a cable out from the right hand corner.  Breanne realized that it was on a pulley and the moment it was secured around her left wrist she felt her arm drawn upward.  Richard lost no time buckling a similar cuff to her other arm, and then to her surprise, a large leather belt that was wrapped around her waist.  Two more cables were drawn to her, and she watched as Richard clipped the special D shaped clips to the belt.  Testing her bonds, she pulled slightly and discovered that her range of movement had been severely hampered.

       Evidently a complicated machine, Richard moved toward a small cabinet to the left and extracted a complicated looking vibrator harness.  Kneeling before her, he gently parted her petals and inserted the long and thick phallus into her body, extracting a drawn out moan as he pushed it in deep and then clipped the harness to her belt.  A strange looking electrical wire dangled from the harness and Richard snatched it up with his fingers and pushed it into a small dark opening in the console to the right.

       Finally it appeared her client was ready, and Breanne watched in breathless anticipation as he reached up to grasp two plastic handles mounted on cables.  A network of pulleys redirected the force of his first movement and Breanne was looking in the wrong place as two identical multi-headed whips lashed outward, swinging in an arc, just missing Richard’s chest, and then striking with a painful sting against both of her breasts simultaneously.

       She cried out her chest tingling, and she pulled backward.  Richard pulled hard on the handles again and the whips swung fast, smacking into her still quivering melons with enough force to leave long red stripes.  Just as she cried out, she felt the vibrator inside her begin to buzz.  It was on low, only a gentle shake, but it was enough and she moaned, twisting against her bonds as she tried to squat, to drive the vibrator higher up inside her.

       Richard swung again, but this time with only one arm, beginning a pattern of one side, then the other.  In moments, the space in front of Breanne was an alternating blue as first one breast than the other was assaulted, switched repeatedly, over and over, as the cruel exercise machine lashed at her most soft and tender flesh.  Worse, as Richard picked up in speed, so did the vibrator, until the pain of the swishing whips melded into the incredible buzzing of the vibrator.  Crying out, thrusting her hips, she arched her back, raising her breasts to meet the oncoming lash.  She twisted her body, letting the full impact smack against her left nipple, only to turn the other way and bite her right.

       And then, just as she was about to explode, her body thrumming with need, pleasure, and pain, Richard began to slow.  His body was covered in a sheen of sweat and his brow was tight.  It was obvious he was tiring and she looked at him in utter desperation.

       “Oh god no!  Please!  Don’t STOP!   WHIP ME!  I’m so close to CUMMING!”  She cried, shaking the cables binding her.  Richard’s eyes flashed and he laughed, deliberately stopping.  Bursting in to tears, Breanne pulled against her bindings, her hips thrusting out in wild motions as she tried to bring herself to orgasm, despite the sudden stillness of the vibrator.  Richard just stood watching, his eyes slightly wide as the frantic movements of Breanne’s body finally diminished, leaving her hanging, limp and pathetic. 

       “I have the perfect exercise machine for you next, Breanne.”  He said simply, stepping up and quickly unlatching the cables from the leather waist band.  He unclipped the vibrator from the harness and began pulling it out, the thick plastic rod squelching loudly as it was extracted from Breanne’s soaked hole.  Putting it aside, he patted her thigh and then quickly unbuckled her wrists from the harness, allowing the cables to retract back into the frame.

       She clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.  He patted her back, leisurely walking her forward until they stood next to a pink colored machine with a long black leather bench.  Pushing her slightly, he positioned her on the padded bench face down, her arms pillowing her head, tears still dripping from her eyes.

       From under the bench he pulled out a long metal rod that seemed to clip in place perfectly between her legs, and the large plastic vibrator on the end seemed exactly what she needed.  She stiffened slightly as he pushed it up into her body, driving it forward all the way.  With a gasp Breanne clenched her bottom as the vibrator activated, buzzing softly at its lowest level.  It brought back the sensations she had felt on the last machine.

       Richard’s hand moved up her body and he once more patted her shoulder.  “Hey, can you lift up for a moment?”  He asked.

       Breanne looked at him and saw he was holding a metal plate.  Nodding, she raised her chest and head from the bench, only to seem him slip the thin metal rectangle directly below her breasts.

       “Okay, lay back down.”  He said.  Breanne complied, shivering slightly as her already abused breasts touched the cool metal.  It warmed quickly though and she settled down, already feeling the immediate arousal of the vibrator.  He took a leather strap and belted it over her shoulders, securing her tightly to the bench.

       Richard had moved around the entire apparatus once, fiddling with a few things before finally returning to her feet.  He lifted up a bar that was attached to the end of the bench with a hinge and tucked her ankles under it.  As it lifted slightly, Breanne thought she felt the vibrator’s buzzing increase.

       “Okay, Bre.  Time for leg curls.  This system is easy.  You lift the weight on your ankles and the vibrations increase until you get to the top.  Once there, the vibe will buzz for a few seconds at top speed and the automatically go all the way back to minimum.  Then you have to lower the weights to reset it.  Once its reset, you can take it all the way back up.”  He ran his fingers up her leg and side, slightly tickling her and receiving a giggling gasp in return.

       “Understand?”  He asked.

       Breanne nodded.  “Yes, I finally get to come?”

       Richard grinned.  “If you can.”  He snapped his fingers.  “Oh.  I forgot to mention something.  When you reset the vibrator you get a little electrical shock on your breasts.  Shouldn’t be an issue for a girl like you though.”  He gave her a little wave.  “Anyway, I’m going to go lift a few free weights.  Enjoy yourself!”  And to her surprise he walked away.

       Breanne stared after him, and then realized that she had already put tension on the weight at her ankles.  Still unsure of herself, she let the weight down, knowing the vibrations between her legs would diminish slightly.  But she was unprepared for the painful shock that stung her breasts.  She let out a scream that caused both Richard and Melanie to look over at her as she jerked her legs upward, causing the vibrator to suddenly roar to life, buzzing madly and violently inside her.  With a groan, she brought her legs all the way up, and the vibrator matched the movements with more earthshaking motions.  As she held the weight at its apex, she suddenly felt the vibrator slowing and realized that she would have to reset it.  For a moment she tried to decide whether feeling the raging vibrations were worth another painful jolt to her breasts, but as her already sore calves tired, she began letting the weight down.  She decided to get the shock over quickly, dropping the weight and pulling up almost immediately, but the quick contact did nothing to lessen the flash of pain that exploded in the tips of her breasts.  She screamed, straining to lift herself off the bench before the momentary shock ended.

       Her sex thrummed suddenly as the vibrator picked up speed, churning inside her as she lifted the weights.  She turned her head, looking over the where Richard was lying down, his hands grasping the heavy center bar of some weights.  To her surprise, Melanie had gotten off her bike and was standing next to him, speaking softly. 

       Just then the weights on Breanne’s ankle hit the apex and she felt the vibrator buzz madly, she whimpered, moaning as it sped for a fifteen seconds and then began to decrease in speed.  Her legs trembled and she felt her desires rush back to her body.  She stared at Melanie as she let the weights back down.  Just as her pretty brunette friend reached out with both hands, hooking her fingers in Richard’s shorts, the weights hit home and Breanne cried out as the shocking pain exploded through her breasts again.

       Her legs jerked upward, but before she was able to control them, the slammed back down, delivering a second shock.  Squealing, she thrashed on the bench, her body protesting the insane torture.  She managed to curl her legs, holding them up, feeling the vibrator once more start its slow acceleration.

       Melanie had Richard’s cock out, and it was standing straight.  For a moment, Breanne felt a flash of jealousy.  That was her cock!  She deserved it after enduring all of these evil machines.  As Melanie knelt down next to the bench, taking the hard tall pole in her mouth, Breanne lifted the weights up, feeling the vibrator surge.  It sent a shiver of pleasure through her that felt like a raging river, a flash of heat that spoke volumes for the intensity of the orgasm coming.  But the vibrator ounce more became sluggish, and she braced herself as she let the weights down.

       Gritting her teeth, she stayed quiet as the shock hit her breasts.  A painful jolt that seemed a combination of the worst clamping, hot waxing, icing, and whipping she had ever received on her tender melons.  She jerked the weights up with a desperate hiss, feeling the vibrator’s buzz increase.

       Melanie had finished her tongue bath and had stood, straddling the iron pumping man.  Her wet and gaping pussy that had for so long ridden the hard purple phallus of the exercise bike slid down the granite like rod of the man who had tortured Breanne, and enjoyed it.  He groaned as Melanie impaled herself, obviously trying to keep his sexually excited mind on the weights he supported above his head.

       As Breanne’s weights reached their apex and the vibrator thrummed , its churning tremors bringing a gasp of pleasure to the bound girl, she watched as Melanie began sliding up and down on the thick cock Richard so aptly wielded.  The petite brunette had thrown her head back, peeling off her tight spandex top until she straddled him naked, her slightly tanned skin contrasting with Richard’s white and muscular frame.

       The buzzing slowed and Breanne let out a soft whimper, her legs burning with strain as she lowered the weights.  For a moment, she tried to hold them up, but it was too difficult and she finally was forced to let them down.  She was prepared for the shock, once more gritting her teeth, but when she tried to lift her legs, she was too tired, and couldn’t even get them to rise.  The painful electrifying surge through her breasts continued and she began to scream out, long cries peppered with pleas.

       “No!!!  AAAAAAAARRGGGGG!  P-p-please!  HELP!!”  She managed to gasp out.  Her head snapped around to her friend and tormentor, only to see them ignoring her completely, lost in throes of lust.  Breanne screamed again, calling out her friend’s name.

       “MELANIE!  HELP ME!”  She yelled.  Melanie finally seemed to notice and turned and looked over at Breanne who was thrashing like a landed fish on the bench, her body receiving shock after shock.

       And then, with no warning, the vibrator spun up, trembling to life in a single surge all the way to full power.  The electric shocks continued, but the added sensation of the vibrator buzzing away like crazy inside her brought every particle of her previous lust and desire to the forefront.  She bucked her body, tensing and for a moment her legs lifted the weights.  But despite everything, the shocks were unrelenting, as was the vibrator and she let out a terrible shriek.

       Then she exploded, her body ridged in an orgasm that seemed to start in her nipples.  The sudden flush of endorphins matched the electricity that sparked her breasts and it flooded downward like a raging river until it slammed into her vibrator sensitized pussy.  Her mouth opened soundlessly as she came, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench, her knuckles white.  Her toes curled inside her tennis shoes and her pussy clenched tightly around the phallus.

       And then it stopped, the electricity, the vibrations, everything.  Breanne sagged, her body going limp as she felt the hands of both Richard and Melanie freeing her from the bench.  The leather strap over her back was removed and Breanne felt the vibrator being withdrawn, the wet sucking sound of her body releasing it’s internal tormentor, filling her ears.

       Tears poured down Breanne’s face, but they were silent ones as Melanie’s hands seemed to sooth her.  Breanne rolled over, her hands going to her breasts, taking the sensitive tips in her fingers and probing softly.

       “You okay?”  Melanie asked, a look of concern on her face.

       Breanne nodded, her tear streaked face splotchy.  “I think so.”

       Richard stood there, his arms crossed over his chest.  His shorts were on and Breanne realized he must have yanked them up after Melanie had gotten off him.  “That was pretty incredible.  Did you cum?”  He asked.  Breanne nodded again, her head hanging as she slowly recovered.

       Richard gave a small smile.  “The leg curl machine is supposed to detect when you do quick bounces on the electrical switch and turn everything on until it detects another two hits on the switch.  You seemed to be on it for quite awhile though.”

       Breanne looked up.   “I was trying to keep my feet of the switch, so I timed myself.”

       Richard winced. “Ooohh.  So instead of letting you have a quick orgasm, it just went through multiple cycles of vibration and shocks.  Ouch.”  He looked at her apologetically.  “Sorry, Breanne.  But at least you came.”  He held out his hands.

       “I think we’re done for the morning, Bre.  It’s been almost two hours anyway, and I could use a shower, and maybe a dip in the pool.  Melanie is going to join me.  Why don’t you come too?  I promise no naughty stuff.”  Richard said.

       Breanne looked up at her friend who gave her a sheepish grin.

       “Unless you want some more naughty stuff.”  Melanie said.

       Breanne let out a tiny snort.  “I think maybe it’s your turn to let Richard use his sap on you.”  She said, standing up.  She grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and sopped up the stream of juices coating her thighs.  “All right.  A shower and a dip in the pool.”   She said, tossing the towel into a nearby bin.  “Did you cum?”  She asked Richard.

       He frowned, looking sheepish.  “No.  When you screamed for help Mel just jumped right off me.”  He patted a large lump in his shorts.  “Sammy is still pretty hard, and after seeing what you went through, very horny.”

       Breanne stepped up next to Richard and snagged his right arm as Melanie moved to his left. “Well let’s see what we can do to make Sammy a little less tense.  Come on.  The showers here are coed!”  Pulling slightly, Breanne tugged the other two toward the door and relief.

The End…

Of this story, but not of Breanne’s adventures at the Locke!