A Gentleman's Bargain

1. Hello Master

Maria and Tom had been together for the better part of a decade. While their excursions into darker sexual pleasures were a fairly new trend, they both quickly found liberating release from restrictions on flesh placed by societal norms. What started out cautiously optimistic had quickly turned to a passion greater than the two of them. It was an entire new layer to their love; a freedom to feel, to experience, without limit.

Maria felt as if a second half of herself took over on their "nights out." She wasn't absent, or out of control, she was a giddy spectator, watching her braver side loose the flood.

Tom instead seemed to become a magnified version of who he really was, shedding any inhibition, and becoming wildly more outspoken than he already was known to be.

They both enjoyed plumbing the depths of their sexuality together, looking for new and interesting kinks to taste with one another. They made their best effort to get a night out once every month, and this time, Tom seemed more excited than usual.

He always handled the planning, because when the night would come around, he wouldn't be Tom anymore than she would still be MariaÉ come the night of his plans, he was always Master, and she was always His slut. Couldn't well be planned the other way around, and His slut trusted her Master entirely. He was always sober as a judge, and she was always encouraged to be as wild as she felt. He was Intensity, and she was Liquidity.

Maria had been gone dropping the kids at the sitter's for almost 45 minutes by the time His slut came in the door. "Hello, Master. Your children arrived at the sitters safely. I am here now. You look fantastic. May I prepare now?" she looked up at him and smiled with her eyes.

Master nodded toward the bathroom, where he always had her outfit chosen and waiting. As soon as she saw what he had chosen for her to wear, His slut knew right away that she had guessed right; tonight she'd be submissive. Those were secretly her favorite nights out. She showered and dressed, and they left together. He opened the house and car doors for her, as he always did.

2. The Gentleman's Club

Master held open the passenger door as the engine made ticking cooling noises, which echoed in the parking garage. Time slowed to half pace while a long, tanned leg wrapped in fishnet stretched out of the open car door. Shiny black open-toed heels tipped both, and quickly came back together on the pavement. Her outstretched hand was punctuated by nails painted the same red gloss that appeared on her toes. With his free hand, Master took His slut's, and helped her from the car. Still in slow motion, and rather cautiously, she slithered out of her seat without her tiny skirt exposing more than just a hint of her ass. Little. Black. Dress. Little, indeed, and tight everywhere. Her creamy smooth thighs and her round, full tits played tug-of-war battling to be the first to escape. Completing her minimalist ensemble, she accessorized with only diamond studs, and a delicate (yet somewhat disposable) silver chain draped loosely around her throat. She carried no handbag. Her hair was down, long and curly, and in the low-intensity parking garage lights, it shimmered blackly like the full moon. Her lipstick was almost as bold as her nails, but a shade darker. Her dark eyes were always Master's weakness, and he required too much mascara and eye-liner, to exaggerate their intensity. The finishing touch was her wedding set, glistening proudly on her left hand.

Master was in full formal regalia tonight. Three pieces, he was all in black, less his white shirt - and his tie, which matched the red in His slut's nail polish. They swirled in black beauty, with fuck-me-red racing stripes.

It was a short walk, as far as Manhattan foot-travel goes, but in heels, His slut was glad he had chosen to walk slowly. They didn't speak while they walked, and the anticipation had her just slightly moist already. She was never allowed to know anything about Master's plans in advance, and he knew that it drove His slut crazy.

He led them around a corner and abruptly into a stairwell leading downward. The dark got darker fast, but apparently they had arrived, as Master pounded loudly three times on the heavy, non-descript door at the bottom of the stairs. After the sound of a lock releasing, the door swung in, revealing a gigantic bouncer dressed in a tuxedo. "Name please, sir?" he asked with a surprisingly soft-spoken, gentle air.

"Tom Jacobs, plus one," was Master's reply. He was using the name on his fake ID, and produced same, something he reserved for special, dangerous occasions.

"Yes, I see you have a reservation. Welcome to The Gentleman's Club! You've chosen an exciting night to join us, and your timing is impeccable - you'll have just enough time to browse before we start."

"Now, the formalities, sir," the giant continued. "From this point forward, your plus one will have to wear this," as he held out a black, silken blindfold.

"Certainly," Master said as he slid it over His slut's eyes. She could make out only light around its edges, she could not see out.

"Very good, sir," the bouncer responded. "And the matter of a marker? How much would you like to buy in tonight?"

"Five thousand," Master replied, while counting out a huge sum of cash.

"Excellent, we thank you, sir. And the minimum you'll allow bidding?"

"Two thousand," Master answered.

"Appropriate, and still generous, sir. Well done."

In her newfound darkness, she heard footsteps approaching - two women walking quite deliberately, and in heels. 'Click. Clack. Click. Clack.'

"And sir and his plus one are available for delivery tomorrow night?"

"Yes, we're confirmed," Master answered.

"Very good," the giant summarized.

'Click. Clack. Click. Clack.' growing louder until stopping directly to His slut's side.

"Alright, this is Madeline, who will escort you to your seat, sir. And this little one is Raquel. She'll show your plus one to her seat, sir."

Polite introductions went around those who weren't blindfolded, then ended with Raquel asking, "And what will we call you, beautiful?"

She dare not speak.

"Answer her," Master purred.

"His slut," she replied proudly.

"Excellent, come with me," and Raquel took her hand.

She dare not move.

"Go with her, I'll be very nearby," Master reassured. "Do as instructed, they speak for me tonight."

His slut took the woman's hand, and was led away through a door halfway down a long hallway. Walking in heels blindfolded should have been tricky, but with Raquel's help, His slut made her way gracefully. Through the door, she followed down another hallway, and through another door, again walking in silence.

Raquel directed softly, "OK, His slut, wait here. You have to leave the blindfold on, and be sure you do, or the bouncers will handcuff you after they put it back on. Have a seat, and follow any instructions you hear from Matthew over the speaker." With that, she was guided to a velvet-covered bar stool, on top of which she perched, seated as ladylike as she could be, given the circumstances. Raquel closed the door behind her with a gentle 'Snap' and suddenly the sound of His slut's own breath, and the crush of the velvet on her thighs were the sum of her sensory input. She sensed that she was in a tiny room (a closet?) by the quick reverberations of her own breath.

After what must have been ten minutes of wondering what would happen next, an intercom crackled subtly, and a mildly effeminate voice began speaking over it. "Hello, ladies. My name is Matthew, and I'll be giving you some basic instructions along the way tonight. First and foremost, leave the blindfolds on until you are otherwise instructed. You must never move around the facility alone, or without being blindfolded."

"Next," Matthew continued, "please ensure that you sit as still as stone. Do not move even a little."

"We'll be starting soon, and it is very important to the gentlemen that you arrived with, that you do follow all of my instructions very carefully tonight. This first session is 45 minutes, in which you will simply sit still. The second session is 15 minutes, in which you will again sit very still, but this time, you won't be allowed the blindfold. Don't worry, there still won't be much to see. After that we will take a 30 minute break, in which you will be guided to a restroom, again blindfolded. Once in the restroom, you may remove your blindfold, use the toilet, get refreshments from the mini bar, wash up, smoke, relax, whatever you like. Each of you has your own restroom, so please make yourselves at home. When 30 minutes break have ended, you'll be brought - blindfolded of course - to the main gallery. While you are all being staged, you'll continue to wear your blindfolds. Just before the third, final session, you'll again remove your blindfolds. You won't have to try to remember any of that, you'll always have your current instruction, and certainly you'll be given corrective instruction if you still don't understand. Try to relax, you'll be much more effective if you appear pleasant and comfortable."

The intercom crackled back off to silence. So far, so good, but this seemed exceedingly elaborate, and darker than usual. Truth told, what little bit of Maria was even present was terrified, or would have been if Master and His slut weren't so confident and bold. Whatever balance of state-persona she was she couldn't be sure, but she was sure of two related things: she had overwhelming goosebumps, and she was now officially slippery soaking wet. She was fairly sure that more of her ass had escaped between her short dress and the velvet barstool, but she wasn't sure if she was willing to move enough to adjust it. Master had taken her to elaborate nights out in the city before, but this wasn't just some one-night-pass in a swinger's club, watching and being watched. This had purpose, whatever this was.

After a few minutes, she briefly heard muffled sounds of voices to her left, then silence again. Shortly after, Matthew crackled in overhead again. "Room number twelve, you are called 'His slut' and you arrived with a mister Tom Jacobs, correct?"

"Correct," she spoke out, hoping she'd be heard.

"Good, sweetie. Now for the rest of tonight, you'll answer to 'Number Twelve,' got that? Pay attention for it, ok?" he finished.

"Yes, Twelve," she answered.

"Great, sit still now, you look pretty as hell, girl."

Then silence, then muffled voices from the closet to her right.

Some additional minutes later, Matthew crackled briefly into her ear, "OK ladies, be still now. We're starting." She heard a sort of swooshing sound, and at the same time, muffled conversation, men's laughter, and music.

Then, tick tock, began the waiting. She grew stiff fairly quickly, and before long she regretted her initial poise on this barstool. Her legs started to ache, but she'd held poses before. Her back stiffened, but she'd learned patience. A single drop of sweat formed on her throat, beaded and rolled down her cleavage - did she actually hear a muffled reaction from outside this closet? She'd learned to love to sweat.

She tried to gauge the time by the diminishing of each ending song, fading into another from outside. She waited. She tried not to think of the strain of sitting so still on the barstool. She thought of Master, where he might be, and what he might be doing. Was he here with her somehow? How far away is "very near," anyway? She tried to test her terror, and found that deep down, she was actually quite content. The goosebumps spawning from the unknown were physical evidence of the intensity she was feeling, but regardless, she felt like she had quite a bit of reserve left before she'd start wondering if anyone could even hear her safe word. Liberation, distilled. She grinned slyly, and willed another drop of sweat. When it joined the one she'd lost earlier between her tits, she was certain this time there was a gasp from outside her little dark closet world.

3. Lights Out

"OK ladies, get ready," Matthew's voice crackled in, and broke an eternity of silence. "In a moment I'll start counting down from ten to zero. When I hit zero, you'll all reach up with your right hands, and remove your blindfolds. Drop them directly under your seat, then get back in your sitting still position. On zero. Right hand. One quick, graceful movement. Drop it below you. Be still again. Be ready in about 30 seconds."

Her confidence wilted. She got cold. Her nipples poked up, hard and sensitive. She realized she had gone soft, but couldn't do more than fake confidence.

"Get ready, girls."

Then after substantial crackling from the intercom system, "Number Twelve, you're starting to look a little faint. Are you alright?"

Cold sweat. Holy shit, not now, she thought. "Yes, I'm outstanding, sir."

"OK, then. ÔCrackle' In ten..."

Fuck! What was even going on here? She couldn't understand how she'd gotten so shook ,so fast, but she absolutely was.

"...nine..."

What had she gotten herself into? What was going to happen next? What would she see after she took off her blindfold? What the fuck possessed her to be so wild, anyway? Why in the world was she sitting here in a cold sweat, and drooling wet between the lips of her pussy?

"...eight..."

She scrambled for composure, realizing that must look a mess of nerves. What did Matthew mean by Ôfaint' exactly?

"...seven..."

Was she some teenage virgin all of a sudden? Master told her she had huge brass balls, but where were they now?

"...six..."

Imminent. Unavoidable. Whatever it was, it was going to happen. And it was going to happen in-

"...five..." - Matthew was purring now, and at this pace, he'd be whispering by Ôtwo'.

"...four...three...two..." And he was, quite literally now, whispering.

"...one..." Like the intensity of a roller coaster under the full force of free fall.

OK, showtime. Her nerve rushed back in full force. She steeled herself for the unknown.

"...zero."

She felt her right hand reach smoothly up, peel the blindfold off, and slip it down onto the floor. She smiled soundly as her right hand returned to its place in her lap with the left. She was an observer of herself, feeling the motions happening to her, rather than actually performing them. She was floating on a cloud. She was drifting on hormones, and raging with lust.

Her eyelids raised as her blindfold fell. Her smile escaped from her lips, snuck into her eyes, and she beamed. She was stunning. And she was disappointed.

She was in a tiny room, four feet square, perched on a beautifully upholstered brass bar stool. The closet was wallpapered with wide vertical striped black and beige velvet. The light was dim, and the sounds were still muffled. Before her was a mirror, framed also in brass. She saw herself in the reflection, and fluttered a bit - tonight she looked freaking hot. She felt a little embarrassed that she'd been getting so wound up just moments ago.

She was inspecting herself as best she could, without moving that is, when she caught a bit of movement in her reflection that wasn't her own. She studied the glass, and tried to focus past her own image. Soon she saw faint silhouettes moving about, and gesturing. His slut realized she was on display through a one-way mirror. "I see," she whispered between her smiling teeth. There's been a party going on, just on the other side of this thick glass, and she's been one of the (apparently at least 12 or 13) pieces of art on the walls.

"OK, ladies, that's break," Matthew broke the long contemplative silence over the intercom. "Continue to sit still until your escort knocks on your door."

Just then the dim lights in her closet faded to blackness, and at the same time, the mirror "closed" from top to bottom with a swooshing sound. It immediately became clear to her: She hadn't been in a closet, she had been in a booth.

4. Intermission

Raquel left her alone again in her restroom, which was more like a private lounge a celebrity might frequent. She found the mini bar to be completely stocked - with just enough alcohol to max one stiff drink, which she went about promptly. She laid back on a plush love seat, stretching her back, calves and arms out, trying not to spill her drink.

In some ways, the fifteen minute session was more painful than the longer one previous to it. While being entirely clueless was difficult, and sitting posed as she was so still for so long was excruciating, the fatigue and realization had really stirred up some anxiety. Even though she felt herself swinging wildly from terror to confidence, then back to stress, she was having the time of her life. It was only difficult because she knew she was being observed, like artwork, but she couldn't see anything herself. Her imagination kept teasing her with thoughts that were probably far from reality - even she knew that men wouldn't be judging her near nudity with malice, but she needed some sort of visual feedback to know for sure how she had been received on the opposite side of that sliding mirror. She washed the thought down with the last sip of her drink, used the toilet quickly, and was just finishing primping in front of (another) mirror, when Raquel returned, knocking softly on the door. "His slut? Are you ready? Let me know when you've got your blindfold set."

As they walked back, Raquel finally broke some of the mystery along with the silence of their walk. "You were quite the favorite of the first two sessions. Such a buzz around Number Twelve. I shouldn't say anything, but I'm very proud for your Master. You should be too - you've done a smashing job so far. Six was scolded twice and wound up handcuffed. Needless to say, the gentleman she arrived with is quite shamed by her insolence. They left in voluntary disgrace, and are banned from ever joining us here again. Forfeited his marker, and all. I can only imagine her spankings tonight."

Whatever in the world this woman was saying, she couldn't be sure, but His slut was solidly in agreement, that whatever Number Six had coming tonight might set a new record. If you fucked something as extravagant as this up, you really were an asshole.

She didn't need to fully grasp everything yet to know that she was part of something big tonight, and the intensity of the ride so far had wound up her wet pussy worse than maybe ever before in her life. She couldn't wait to be fucked tonight. Hard. Repeatedly. Suddenly she was "in on it," armed with her much-needed feedback. And even as much as she was still in the dark, she felt unstoppable.

Raquel stopped walking, and His slut stopped at her side, holding her hand. She could feel Raquel looking at her. "On the other side of this door is a backstage area. It will be a bit hectic beyond that, so we'll talk here first. Keep following the instructions you're given carefully. This is not a good opportunity for a rebellious submissive, don't test your Master's will tonight. He is waiting for you in the gallery, along with the other gentlemen. You'll be seated with the other women on stage. You'll all be instructed when to remove your blindfolds. You'll all do so together as a group. Don't be first. Don't be last. Be fluid."

"You'll all take center stage one at a time, in order of starting bid from smallest to largest. Your Master has placed a beautifully fair, yet still flattering two thousand dollar minimum starting bid, which will certainly get hands in the air quickly. You'll almost certainly be instructed to remove your dress. Leave everything else on, do what you're told exactly, and without apprehension or hesitation. You will almost certainly not be asked to strip further, but if you are, you must, and with style. The men standing up front during your Lot are the men actively interested in placing bids. They will almost certainly touch you. A lot. They will be gentlemen, but they will definitely be men. Enjoy it."