tagBDSMAwaiting Punishment: The Submissive

Awaiting Punishment: The Submissive


Rachel was a submissive.

She was the kind of submissive that would make most erotic authors blush. Being whipped. Being spanked. Being claimed. Being ravished. Sometimes by multiple partners at once. She learned to be a slut for pain.

Nothing harmful or dangerous. But enough to push herself to the brink.

It wasn't always that way. No. It was something she learned. Something she had acquired. And it changed her forever.

Part 1 of 3: Poolside Fantasies

They laid by the pool together.

Best friends since childhood.

It was a typical Las Vegas day at the luxury hotel. Bikini clad bodies were around the pool as music played and everyone was having a fun time.

Rachel was going to be a bridesmaid for her best friend's wedding. It wasn't an impromptu wedding. It was carefully planned for a small group of close friends and family. Most of the attendees of the wedding had booked their hotels for the entire week to enjoy a small vacation.

"I can't believe it," Rachel said in a lazy tone, too relaxed to move. "By the end of the week, you'll be tying the knot in a fairy tale wedding."

Cynthia smiled. "And I've managed to find Prince Charming too."

"Now I'm starting to hate you."

"Did I mention that he's rich beyond belief?"

"Bitch," Rachel quipped.

"I think it's time to flip over. My skin is getting hot."

They agreed.

When they flipped over to tan their backs, Rachel noticed small marks on Cynthia's body. They weren't the kind of marks a person would get by accident. No, they were deliberate lines across Cynthia's upper back and shoulders.

Rachel thought it was cute, figuring it was a new form of foreplay between her best friend and her fiance.

"Did you have a little too much fun last night?" Rachel teased.

They both laid comfortably on their stomachs, allowing the sun to work its magic on their white backsides.

"What do you mean?"

"Those lines on your back. Looks like you've been doing something interesting."

Cynthia gave a coy smile. "As it turns out, Frank is full of surprises. He's a man of many interests. And we do everything together."

"Gosh, I never knew you were into, whatever it is you've been doing."

"Hey, it never hurts to try new things, right?"

When Cynthia rested her face, things were quiet for a while. They simply enjoyed the lively Vegas atmosphere, the music, the sounds of people having fun, and the hot sun on their backsides.

But Rachel was still curious.

"So what was it? Rope play?"

"Does it matter?" Cynthia asked.

"No, I was just wondering. I had done a similar thing with an ex-boyfriend once. It was a fairly unique experience."

Cynthia leaned towards her friend and whispered, "It was a flog. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

With that, Cynthia's lips formed a shape which resembled a teasing expression, then she rested her head on the towel, ending the conversation.


The night was approaching its end. Rachel had returned to her hotel room wearing a party dress and high heels. Exhausted. The small tight-knit group of friends had gone out for dinner and dancing, in celebration of Cynthia's upcoming wedding.

The group had all known each other since college. Partying was never really their main thing. They were mostly academics. After college, they had all become professional career women, going their separate ways. But they still remained in touch. Their get-togethers were always a great time.

Rachel removed her heels and sat down for a moment to rub her feet. Heels weren't her favorite. She rarely wore them, but for Vegas, it was practically a necessity, she figured.

Most of her days were spent wearing a neat office suit. Her career wasn't the most exciting. She was a probate lawyer who had dealt with countless wills & trusts. The career paid decent money, and she was glad to find a job which allowed her to do good work for nice people.

As she rubbed both feet, she scolded herself for buying such high heels. Next time, she promised herself, she would be wearing normal open-toed shoes.

Before Rachel could change her clothes, there was a knock on her door. It was strange because it was so late at night (at least by her standards).

It was room service at her door. She went to her purse and tipped the man $5 dollars for his service. Before leaving, the delivery man stated with the highest priority that everything was confidential. She wasn't exactly sure what he meant, but she nodded anyway.

The delivery was a silver plate, with a folded white paper on it, next to a red rose.

Rachel sat on the bed and unfolded the handwritten letter:

Dear Rachel,

You've always been like a sister to me. We've shared so many life experiences together. Now that I'm getting married, I fear that we won't be as close anymore, but maybe there's a remedy.

When you saw the marks on my body and inquired about it, I could tell there was a gleam in your eyes, and a curiosity in your voice. It was like you were amazed by the sexual practices that Frank and I shared. I told you it was from a flog.

The truth is, you don't know the half of it.

I didn't explain myself earlier because I didn't want anyone to hear about it. And maybe I'm just too embarrassed to discuss this face-to-face with you.

But let me tell you this: You're beautiful, smart, and fantastic. There are so many admirable qualities to you. It's a shame that you're still single.

I want you to feel the same pleasures that I've felt.

Write down this number: 13049409

Put it on a note or something. Then show it to an employee of this hotel in the lobby area. But before you do, tear up this note.

This is a secret, between me & you, between best friends.



By far, it was the most unusual thing that's ever happened in their friendship, Rachel thought. It couldn't have been a prank. Cynthia was never that type of person. Cynthia was an open, sweet, and caring person. She wasn't someone who would waste anyone's time with meaningless jokes.

The clock read 11:43.

It was far too late by Rachel's ordinary standards. But, it was Las Vegas, and the night was still young.

Rachel grabbed a hotel notepad on the desk and wrote down the number, 13049409, then she ripped up the confidential letter and threw it in the trash.

Despite the aching in her feet, she wore the heels again and went to the elevator.


There was still plenty of activity in the lobby despite the late hour. Everyone was dressed sharply. There was a small line by the counter.

Rachel stood awkwardly holding the note with the number. She had no idea what she would say to the employee.

She continued waiting for a few moments until the line was gone, then she quickly went to the counter and showed the note.

"A friend gave me this," she said. "I think it's for a package."

The employee looked carefully at the number and typed some things on the computer.

"It's not a package," the employee replied. "A driver will be here in 10 minutes if you wish."

"A driver? For what?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. It's your decision."

The whole thing felt like a big mystery. Whatever the case, she was already dressed up, and she had to find out.

"Sure," Rachel said. "Call the driver. Do I have to pay for anything?"

"No ma'am. The costs and arrangements have already been taken care of."

They thanked each other and Rachel waited outside of the luxury hotel. Rachel was a bit baffled by the secretive nature of the dealing, but nevertheless, she just accepted things since it was a gift from Cynthia.


It was a hot night, and good looking people continued to make their way in and out of the hotel. Rachel couldn't understand the night life. It wasn't her thing.

Before long, a sleek black BMW came to the driveway of the hotel. The hotel employees let Rachel know that it was the correct vehicle. They opened the door for her without any further explanation. It was all so strange. But there was a strong sense of mystery and excitement which Rachel found alluring.

In all their years as friends, Cynthia had never wasted Rachel's time with anything boring. Cynthia was always the 'fun' friend to have, the life of the party, the center of attention. And once again, that was being proved true.

Rachel entered the car, and when the door closed, the driver took off. No small talk was exchanged. No pleasantries. The driver had a simple job. Just to drive. So Rachel didn't bother to ask any questions.

They headed down the Las Vegas strip. She enjoyed seeing the bright lights, the glitz, the glamour.

After a few turns the car reached its destination; a bland looking small building, just outside of the famous Vegas strip. Unlike the hotel or Vegas strip, hardly anyone was around. The place was bland and dry, with very little activity.

"We're here," the driver said simply.

"I have no idea where we are. Or what I'm doing here."

"Knock on the door. It will be explained."

Prying information from the driver was useless, since it was already clear that he wasn't a very talkative person. Maybe that was part of his job requirement, she figured. Maybe secrecy was part of the excitement.

Rachel left the car. When she closed the door, she was surprised to see the car immediately drive away, leaving her all alone. It was slightly uncomfortable wearing a small dress with high heels, in such a quiet street.

There was no where to go except to the front door of the building.

She knocked, and it was immediately answered. The door opened and a large bouncer stood blocking the entrance.

"Number please," he said.

Rachel produced her number- 13049409

The bouncer looked at the number, then to a sheet of paper.

"What's your first name?" he asked.


"Follow me."

Rachel entered and the door was closed behind them. The inside of the building wasn't much better than the outside. It was bland and painfully dull. As they walked down the hall, Rachel wondered what would await her- what kind of surprises Cynthia had in store. So far, the answer wasn't particularly clear.

They reached an empty room.

"Wait here," he said plainly.

He left and closed the door. Rachel waited anxiously for a few minutes.

A different door opened. In walked a goddess. A true goddess. She was tall, toned, busty in the right spots, and was dressed in a tight black leather outfit which perfectly hugged her body. She wore black boots. Her hair was pitch black. And her make-up was thick and slightly over-done. It was the look of a dominatrix.

The woman was beautiful. And there was no doubt about it.

"Thank you for waiting," the woman said in a commanding voice. "I'm Annabelle. You must be Rachel."

They shook hands.

"That's me."

"Pleasure to finally meet you. You look even more attractive in person."

Rachel was surprised that the woman knew what she looked like.

"You know who I am?"

"Just from photographs, and what Cynthia has told me."

"And what exactly has Cynthia told you?" Rachel inquired.

"That you might enjoy a taste of what we offer."

"What exactly is being offered here? Sorry, I'm a bit clueless at the moment. Every seems so tight lipped about all of this."

Annabelle gestured to a different closed door. "Let me show you."


They walked inside together. It was a sex club. Pure and simple. Rachel knew that her best friend could be wild and sometimes adventurous, but she never realized just how much.

The club was strategically lit so that it would have the right balance of darkness and light. The walls looked old and there was a rustic feel.

There were a few people going in and out of different rooms. What was jarring was the way people were dressed. There was a shirtless man wearing a gimp mask, being led by a scantily clad woman, who pulled him by a collar. There was a woman, who was on a leash, being made to crawl on the floor to a private room. Most wore leather outfits. Some were blatantly naked.

Rachel was speechless and in awe of everything she saw.

They continued walking until they reached an open area of the club. Dance music played. Strangely dressed people gathered in the center of the area to watch a tall busty woman sodomizing a man with a strap-on. The man was gagged by a ball in his mouth, and he was in a helpless fetal position. The look on his face spoke volumes. Whatever was in his ass must have been large.

"What is this place?" Rachel finally asked.

"A bondage club. Although we tilt heavily towards the sadomasochistic end of things."

"Forgive me, but I'm a lawyer, not a psychologist. What exactly does that mean?"

Annabelle licked her lips. "Bondage is about willing dominance & submission. We embrace the same consensual philosophy. However, our specialty is more towards the aspect of pain & pleasure."

"Sounds intimidating."

"It's not once you're comfortable."

Rachel continued watching the man being sodomized. The woman pounded his ass viciously, without mercy. His face grimaced as the strap-on violated him anally, with something that must have been obscenely large.

"This isn't for me," Rachel said, trying to sound calm about what she was watching. "Thank you for your time."

"Very well. Not everyone has an appetite for this. I'll escort you out."

Rachel turned her eyes away. They walked back from where they came. There was nothing but silence between them. As much as Rachel tried, she couldn't get the lewd image of the man being sodomized out of her mind.

When they neared the entrance, Annabelle told an employee to get a driver.

"You will be taken back soon," Annabelle said.

"Thank you. And I apologize if I'm being rude. My friend Cynthia is the adventurous one, not me."

"Maybe you're adventurous too. You just don't know it yet."

Rachel gave a forced smile. "What I saw back there was...nevermind..."

"Tell me. I'm always interested in hearing feedback."

"It was a bit cruel. Don't you think? That man looked like he was in agony."

"Yet he always comes back for his weekly sessions," Annabelle replied. "They always do."

"Well, I can't imagine why he'd want that done to him."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "That's because you didn't see the best part. If you had stayed until the end, you would see that he cums in rivers. All from being fucked in the ass by the 9 inch plastic cock."

It was a jarring number. Rachel briefly felt sorry for the man.

A car arrived. Another black BMW. This time, with a different driver.

"That ride is for you," Annabelle said. "It will take you back to the hotel."

"Thank you for showing me around. Have a good night."

Annabelle put her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "Ask yourself, Rachel, are you sexually fulfilled? Do you need excitement in your life? If so, come back tomorrow night. You know exactly how to get here."

With that, Annabelle gave a seductive wink and walked away.

Rachel was stunned for a moment. Then she went towards the black BMW, which immediately drove her back to the hotel. During the car ride, her pulse raced. The seductive look on Annabelle's face was etched into her mind.

The question still lingered: Are you sexually fulfilled?


The group of friends were by the pool the next morning. There was five of them in total. All laying on the neatly arranged lounge chairs. They made their usual small talk, gossip, and gave praise to Cynthia for the Vegas marriage.

Throughout their group discussions that morning, Rachel was dying to ask about the bondage club, but there was never an opportunity. Until, the three other women got up for a quick drink.

Cynthia and Rachel continued laying on the lounge chairs, alone, and Cynthia flashed a knowing expression, as if she anticipated a private conversation.

"What was that all about?" Rachel asked. "Last night I mean."

"It was a gift. I'm sorry to hear that you've turned it down."

"How much did that cost anyway?"

"Let's just say, thank God my fiance is rich."

"That expensive?" Rachel replied. "Who would have thought. That place looked so cheap and creepy."

"I can't argue with you on that. But the high price is for anonymity. People go there for discretion. Those people aren't average club goers. They're doctors, lawyers, executives, and managers. All with a particular fetish. A harmless one."

"It didn't look harmless to the guy getting sodomized," Rachel quipped.

Cynthia smiled, "I see you've met Jonathan. Very nice guy. He's a bank manager here in Vegas."

"You know people there by name? My goodness, Cynthia, how long have you been going to that place?"

"I've only been there 3 times. Twice last year. And once the other day. That's where I got those lines on my back. Frank was the one who introduced me to that place."

Lewd thoughts briefly swirled through Rachel's mind, imagining her best friend and her fiance going to a bondage club together, doing god knows what.

"I don't even want to ask about that," Rachel replied, shaking her head.

They saw their friends coming back, drinks in hand, and their private conversation had to end.

"Look, Rach, I care about you. I really do. All I'm saying is that you need to be a little more open minded. We're in Vegas a few more days. Make the most of it. It's like the old saying, 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' Okay?"

The other friends returned to their seats on the lounge chairs. The conversations then returned to much lighter topics.

Part 2 of 3: Sex Club Punishment

It was 10:48 pm. She was all alone in her hotel. Nothing was good on tv. And she was upset with herself for not bringing any books to read.

The only thing interesting on her mind was the sex club. Both Cynthia and Annabelle were right: Rachel was sexually unfulfilled, lived a bland life, and she would only be in Vegas a few more days before heading home.

She got out of bed and put a few touches on her make-up. She put on another dress. A sexier one than she wore for dinner. She wore a different pair of high heels that she bought earlier that day. It was much easier on her feet.

After a quick glance in the mirror, she was ready for the club.


The same code number worked again.

She simply showed it to an employee in the lobby, and a black BMW came to pick her up. Once again, it was a different driver, and she wondered how many drivers worked for that particular club.

The ride to the club felt different. This time, she knew exactly what to expect. And that wasn't necessarily a good thing. It made her nervous. She wondered what sorts of crazy things she would witness that night.

When she arrived to the destination, she didn't need to show her password anymore. The bouncer had remembered her face.

Rachel was allowed to enter and wander as she pleased.

She still didn't know what her goal was. She just wanted to be there.

The atmosphere was the same as before. People wandered around the different rooms. The environment was sexually charged. Lust was in the air. Rachel could practically smell the sex. And she could almost smell the fumes of fresh cum.

"All alone, babe?" a man's voice said behind her.

She turned to see a man in his 50's, clean cut, good looking, with a leather outfit.

"I'm just looking."

"Babe, so am I. I've been looking all night. I guess we've found each other."

Rachel froze for a second. "Look, I don't want to be rude, but I'm just browsing. That's all."

"No one comes here to browse, babe," he replied, his eyes looking her over. "So what are you? You seem like a bottom."

"A bottom?"

"Do you like it in the ass? Down your throat?"


"Come on, babe, don't be shy."

Annabelle came and interjected herself in the conversation.

"She's just browsing," Annabelle said with an elegant demeanor.

He nodded. "Of course. Pardon me, ladies."

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