Asymmetry Ch. 01

Authors Note: This is the first chapter of a longer story, following Carla's journey into submission. Although the build up of the story is gradual, there is still plenty of action along the way. A special thank you to Mike, who has given me a huge amount of help and guidance on my writing journey.

Thank you for reading.

*****

My best friend Suzanne bounded into the South London apartment we rented together after she'd finished work, her hazel eyes lit up like a bonfire.

"You'll never guess what's happened!"

Suzanne worked as a private tutor, a job that certainly allowed her to see more of upper class England than I could've conceived possible. I couldn't imagine a more mundane job; however it seemed she had a pretty sweet deal. She seemed to do more wining and dining with the elite than actual teaching. By now I knew her routine all too well; I'd lost count of the number of times she'd dashed into the living room to tell me about some stately home she'd visited.

I barely looked up from the magazine I was reading. "What is it now?"

"I'll tell you in a second. We both need a drink first." She sauntered into the kitchen, before returning with a wine bottle and two glasses.

"Now this is going to sound like a really weird question, but I'm going to ask it anyway." She splashed a generous amount of scarlet liquid into a glass and thrust it into my palms. "What do you think about being tied up? In bed I mean?"

My cheeks bulged as I almost spat out my mouthful of wine. "What kind of question is that, Suze? And why would I tell you that kind of thing anyway?"

She smirked, enjoying my shyness. "You're my best friend, Carla. We've discussed far worse things before. Besides, there's a reason I'm asking. You know that family I just started working for?"

"Those people that live way outside the city? I thought you'd be bored of working for such pretentious people by now, Suze."

"Oh, it'll be a while before that happens." She ran her fingers through her brunette hair, before leaning into me. She was so close that I could make out the musky remnants of her perfume. "Besides, these guys have a weirder skeleton in their closet than you could possibly imagine."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I kind of stumbled across it by accident. I was shit scared at first. I was looking for the bathroom, but took a wrong turn. Their house is so damn big."

"What did you find?"

She took a long sip from her glass. "It was like some sort of sex dungeon. Have you ever read Fifty Shades? Well, think of Christian's red room, only this was way more extreme."

"I would've got out of there as quickly as I could."

"That was my initial thought, too. But then I got kind of curious. It's amazing how much of a turn on it was to actually see those things in the flesh."

"Let me guess. You ended up shackling yourself to the ceiling." Suzanne had always been pretty open about her sexuality, yet I was sure this had to be part of some bizarre set-up on her part.

"Not quite. I was looking around when all of a sudden I heard the door open behind me. I turned round and it's Kirsten - the woman of the household. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed."

The crafty smile on her face told me she was no longer embarrassed at all by what had transpired. "What did she say? I bet she couldn't run you out the house quick enough."

"You'd think that, but she was totally open about it. She said she and her husband, Malachi, like to play different power games, to spice things up in their day to day lives."

"Sounds like they do a little bit more than just spice things up."

"You're telling me. Anyway, this is where it got really interesting. She could tell how curious I was, and started going on about how they're part of this elite club that hold kinky sex parties once a month. Members take it in turns to host the parties and it's their turn to host next week."

Surely she realised her story had long passed the point of believability. I rolled my eyes at her. "And I bet you've got an invite to the next one."

"Not only that." She flashed her teeth at me as a grin spread across her face. "She said I could bring a friend, too."

The next week was torture for me. I'd been convinced that the whole thing was a ruse on Suzanne's part to lure some dark secret about my sexuality from me. Unfortunately for her, I knew her too well to fall into that trap. However, as the week went on and she began to reveal more facts about the party, it became apparent that she was not talking complete fantasy.

On Tuesday, she'd snuck behind me while I was doing the washing up in the kitchen.

"So, I spoke to Kirsten today," she said, grabbing a wooden spoon from the draining board and giving me a playful slap on the behind. "I found out some more details about the party."

"Really?" I just missed as I tried to flick some water into her eyes. "The party that's going on in your head you mean?"

"That's what you think," she replied, splashing me back. "Apparently, there's going to be some sort of entertainment; a live demonstration with people getting tied up and stuff. It's going to be so hot, Carla."

I knew she was teasing, but what my best friend didn't know was that I'd carried out a little of my own research. My internet browsing history was not something I'd want on public display. I'd been loosely aware of the connotations of BDSM before, but now I'd seen picture after picture of women being teased and tormented, I had to admit I agreed with Suzanne - it was hot.

On Wednesday, we'd been in the living room, watching some chick flick DVD for what felt like the thousandth time.

"One other thing about the party," Suzanne said. "Apparently, they have private rooms available for guests to use. Just think, Carla, if you meet someone nice, you'd have no excuse for not getting your rocks off!"

"Whatever, Suze," I replied flippantly. "Even if I did meet someone, I'm not the kind of girl who jumps into bed with someone straight away. You should know that by now."

"Of course I know it. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's about time you left to join the local nunnery. How long has it been now?"

My face didn't show it, but her comments stung. It'd been so long since I'd been intimate with a man that I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. My sexual experiences up to that point had been so disappointing that I'd never really felt like I was missing out though. That was in complete contrast to Suzanne of course, who radiated bliss at the mere mention of her carnal exploits.

What I'd never mention to Suzanne however, was that she'd actually opened a door in my mind. As the week progressed, my late night internet forays became the highlight of my evening. It had got to the point that the thought of going to the party had gone from one of utter repulsion, to one of genuine interest.

The worst bit wasn't admitting to myself I was turned on by it, though. The worst bit was as my hand had slipped inside my panties for the umpteenth time that week, I imagined myself in those positions. What was happening to me? I knew I wasn't compulsive enough to trot off to some private room with someone I'd just met, but at the same, I yearned for more. My mind would never be truly at rest until I knew how the woman in those panty-saturating images felt.

When Saturday came, I didn't put up much of a fight as Suzanne picked out a dress for me. Generally speaking, I wasn't the kind of girl who liked to show a lot of skin, especially when paddling into unchartered waters as I was tonight. However, if there was one person who wouldn't stand for my prudishness, it was my best friend. The cream coloured dress she chose fell far enough down my thighs to be sexy, but still sophisticated. It was sleeveless, and was adorned with pretty little sequins around the collarbone area. I certainly felt more confident when Suzanne wolf-whistled me as I stepped into the living room before we departed.

However, as our journey through the idyllic English countryside went on, that confidence drained from me like water through a sieve I knew I was stepping a million miles out of my comfort zone. As we finally pulled onto a gravel drive way, Suzanne seemed to sense my apprehension. "Don't worry. If it's really weird, we can leave straight away. Kirsten said we don't have to do anything other than watch. You don't have anything to worry about."

We continued up the driveway and the house came into view. The large, glamorous residence matched the picture painted in my head. I would've guessed the architecture was Victorian, and the large circular lawn out front gave the impression of a far more impressive garden round the back. This was the first time I'd ever been anywhere grandiose enough to have 'side parking' for visitors, and as I stepped out of Suzanne's rusting Ford Fiesta, I couldn't help but feel a little out of place.

Even with a cool breeze ruffling my blonde hair, the hubbub of conversation was unmistakable as we approached the house. With the blinds drawn, a stranger would be oblivious to what was going on inside though. As we waited at the front door, my heart pounded against my ribcage. An electrifying mixture of chemicals surged through my veins as curiosity and fear swayed my emotions. I couldn't take much more suspense.

Finally the door swung open.

"Suzanne! I'm so glad you could make it." A radiant, golden-haired woman stood before us. Her attire left me in no doubt that this was a special occasion. Her dark dress fell to the floor and hugged her figure so tightly that she must have been poured into it.

If Suzanne felt nervous, it certainly didn't show. "Thank you for inviting us, Mrs Hutchinson," she turned to me. "This is my friend Carla. She's just as interested in all this as I am."

Kirsten's eyes scanned me. I felt as if I was under the scrutiny of a thousand microscopes. After what felt like an eternity she smiled and held out a slender hand for me to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Carla. Please call me Kirsten. Welcome to The Velvet Thorn, a place where likeminded adults can make fantasies of sexual deviance reality."

I wanted to speak, but my throat was as dry as sawdust. Her delicate fingers had ten times more strength than I could muster. Her smile turned into a smirk as she sensed my apprehension.

"Malachi," she turned and called out. "We have guests. Come and take their coats for me."

My eyes popped from their sockets as her husband entered the hallway. Nothing could've prepared me for his completely naked appearance.

"May I take your coat, Madam?" he held out an arm for me to drape my coat across. His thinning hair was tidily parted as one would expect, but apart from the bow tie around his neck and the bizarre stainless steel cage encasing his shaft, there was not a stitch of clothing on him anywhere.

"W... What's that?" I stammered, pointing towards the cage.

"Around his cock, dear?" Kirsten replied. "A chastity device. It stops Malachi becoming, how shall we put this, distracted if he ever has some time alone."

"So, you control when he gets hard?"

"That's right, only I have the key to his cock." She turned to her husband. "You're being a good boy and running errands as a butler tonight, aren't you, my love?"

"That's right, Mistress."

As we handed him our coats, what shook me the most was his calmness. If he felt embarrassed by the situation, there was no sign of it. He just kept still and looked straight ahead, not daring to look his wife in the eye.

"Why don't you fetch our guests a glass of champagne?" I realised this was an order not a request from Kirsten. "I'll show them to the living room."

Trepidation filled my mind as I followed Kirsten and Suzanne down the hallway. I felt as if I was walking through a swamp in lead boots. I was sure I was going to be shocked by what I saw, but even then nothing could've prepared me for the scene played out before me.

The living room was spacious with a high ceiling that made it feel even roomier. A glittering chandelier hung from it illuminating the room. In the open space in front of the fireplace had been erected what would best be described as a padded table. However it certainly wasn't holding nibbles for the guests.

"There are a couple of ground rules you should be aware of," said Kirsten. "Obviously, people's inhibitions are a lot lower here than they are normally, however the rule is strictly no touching without permission. Everything here has to be consensual, and no always means no. Similarly, if you wish to be involved in the demonstration scene at the front of the room, then you must seek the permission of the dominant in charge first. Enjoy the party, girls."

She strolled away and left us to take in our surroundings. At least twenty fellow partygoers were dispersed around the room and the dress code followed a simple pattern; either you dressed as formally as Kirsten, or as barely clad as Malachi. Men in sharp suits and women in exquisite frocks interspersed with their peers who revelled in appearing in their underwear or less. An array of collars and cuffs adorned those more scantily clad. There was no obligation to take in the evening's entertainment.

"Your drinks, ladies."

I spun round. Malachi had returned. I'd been so caught in the moment that I'd forgotten Suzanne was at my side. We accepted the glasses he offered from a silver platter before he traipsed back through the throng of people. His movements were so automatic they appeared hypnotic.

"Right. I'm off to mingle in," Suzanne said, taking a quick swig of champagne. "I'll leave you to do what you want."

"Suze!" I hissed. "You can't leave me alone here; I don't know any of these people!"

"You'll be fine, Carla," she replied. "Just play it smooth and you'll be fine. How many years have I been telling you that now?"

It took an effort not to grab at the hem of her dress as she drifted away into the crowd. That was the biggest difference between Suzanne and me. She felt totally at ease in any situation while I, on the other hand, was doing my best not to let my awkwardness show.

I turned back to the scene on the table. It was so brutal that I should've instinctively turned my back on it. It was impossible, though. Everything I'd fantasized about was being played out before me.

A young woman lay naked, blindfolded and bound to the table. Her legs folded over the edge of the table so her shaved pussy scooted right up against the table's edge. As she wriggled against her restraints, she moaned intermittently and her ginger hair tossed and turned.

On the floor at the foot of the table, another girl, a brunette, was kneeling naked, her hands cuffed behind her back, her eyes level with the table top. Attached to her mouth was a long phallic shaped object I'd best describe as a 'dildo gag'. As she thrust her head back and forth, the black rubber penis was ravaging her fellow captive's pussy.

When Suzanne told me there would be entertainment, I envisaged perhaps a demonstration with some rope, with the person being bound still fully clothed. Never for a second did I expect to walk into what appeared to be an open sex scene. I could only imagine how much courage it must take to strip off and let go of all inhibitions before such a large audience. The closest I'd ever come was a bit of drunken strip poker while at college that I swore I'd never tell another soul about.

A well-dressed man stood next to the table acted as master of ceremonies. His voice was gruff and bellowing; I couldn't imagine him ever talking and not being audible to everyone in the room. The animalistic glint in his eye told me that he was in his element. How he coaxed his prisoners into such a predicament I was unable to fathom.

"There we go. How do you like that, my little pet?" his voice bellowed.

The redhead gyrated her body in time with the thrusting dildo, her moans becoming more thunderous by the second. "It feels amazing, thank you, Sir," she panted, barely able to control the words.

Any sane person would've rightfully retorted that the scene was vulgar in the extreme, but I couldn't take my eyes off it. Without thinking, I approached closer, as if the table's magnetic field pulled me in. Spellbound by the redhead's moaning and writhing, I wanted to reach and touch her, to see if I could share the passion rushing through her veins.

Only a few metres away from her, disaster struck. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but somehow my shoes caught in the carpet, sending me head first towards the floor. I would've been less embarrassed if I'd walked into the room completely naked. Still kneeling on the floor, I cursed Suzanne for forcing me to wear heels. Then I felt a tall shadow hanging over me and all the blood drained from face.

"Stay still," came a cool and commanding voice. I saw a pair of immaculately polished dark leather shoes, each topped off with a smart charcoal trouser leg.

I didn't want to stay still though. I'd already made a mess of the carpet with my champagne; the last thing I wanted was to remain at the scene of the crime. Every fibre in my body screamed at me to get up and run.

"I said stay still. Let me check your ankle," the voice growled. He put his hands on my shoulder to prevent me from getting up and knelt down next to me. His short dark hair was cut to a precision of a laser, while his muscular shoulders were practically bursting the seams of his suit.

Without asking, he prodded and probed my ankle. It was throbbing alright, but I couldn't help feeling his concern was a little excessive.

After a minute or so of silence, his assessment was complete. When he looked up at me, I was met with the most dazzling pair of emerald eyes I'd ever seen. I wanted to say something; something like 'what the hell do you think you're doing', but the power of speech had forsaken me.

"I don't think it's too bad," he said. "You should be okay for the rest of the evening. Now give me your hand."

His palm wrapped around mine like a bear's paw and hauled me to my feet. At first I swayed; my ankle must have been worse than I thought. He put his other hand on my side to steady me.

"There we go." He kept a hand on my shoulder as if he was concerned I'd topple over without warning. "Now, I can't say I've ever seen you at a party before."

The piercing look in his eyes cut me into a thousand pieces. "It's... It's my first time," I pointed towards a crowd of people, where Suzanne was engaged in deep conversation with a sophisticated dark haired woman. "I've come with my friend."

"Well, I certainly I hope you're enjoying yourself tonight," the strength of his hand on my shoulder bit into my skin. "Members of this club consider it very exclusive. I'm Conrad Pierce. Welcome to The Velvet Thorn."

His formal introduction took me by surprise. "Carla James," I replied.

He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. The heat from his skin made my palm feel like it was in a furnace. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss James."

For a few seconds there was silence between us as I took in my surroundings again. I was so far out of my comfort zone it was unreal. The only thing that stopped me running for the hills was the mystical hold this mesmerising man had over me. It was like he'd created a force field that was impossible to break out of.

When I looked back at him, his eyes were looking over my shoulder. I turned to follow their gaze and immediately saw what had caught his attention. The bound redhead writhed from side to side on the table, and screeched loud enough to gain much of the room's attention. Her captor stood over her, holding a lit candle.

"Let's see how my little slut reacts to this," he roared.

Even though I half expected what happened next, I still wasn't prepared for it. With a jerk of his wrist the man sent a few beads of wax onto the redhead's stomach. For a split second her body froze, then she yelped like a small puppy trying to scare an intruder. All the while, the brunette with the dildo gag continued to thrust in and out of her as if nothing had happened.