Beetlesmith's Ch. 23

Yes, you read that right, the orgy lasted until around mid-day, Sunday. There were periods of quiescence where some members took a short nap, but the 'sexploits' never fully stopped.

Toward that last day I was beginning to feel tired, as if energy was being drained from me a little bit at a time. It wasn't debilitating, just an overall feeling of listlessness. The whole process felt as if I were some sort of human capacitor, storing energy for a time before discharging it into the group.

I have since learned how to better control my group psychokinesis, as well as control how much 'energy' leaves me at any one time.

That first time was a free, 'getting acquainted,' offer. After that, Karen and I charged a hundred dollars a head as an entrance fee. Again, everyone came, paid, and 'came' as much as they could for as long as the orgy lasted.

Surprisingly, our reputation for providing safe, uninhibited, and unadulterated adult participation spread quickly through word of mouth. Within weeks, the number of people paying for entrance swelled our ranks so much that our modest home could scarcely contain all of our members. It wasn't long before participants were spilling out into our backyard, which became a problem. Parking was another problem. Almost all of the streets in our subdivision were fully lined with parked cars for each orgy. I began to fear it wouldn't be long before the local police began slapping us with zoning and decency, or indecency as the case may be, violations.

It was about this time that Rodney Portnoy made my acquaintance—that's correct, Rod Portnoy.

Yeah, I didn't believe it either.

He was a strange man—tall and lanky, almost to the point of looking emaciated. He had a full head of jet black hair, wore glasses with heavy black frames, and talked with a very gentlemanly southern drawl—more South Carolinian than Texan—and an absolute genius when it came to management and organization. I always thought he looked a little like Buddy Holly, minus the guitar.

I recognized him right away when he introduced himself. It was hard not to. Even though the large number of people at our gatherings made the newcomers' faces a blur to me, he stood out. He was the only one that didn't do anything with anyone. He didn't even masturbate.

When things got going, he would undress like the others, but just sit in a chair with a raging hard-on and watch with great intensity. I got the impression that he probably would have preferred to stay fully clothed, and undressed only so he didn't stick out too much like a red-headed bastard at a family reunion.

At times, a female would saunter up to him with the intension of relieving that burgeoning hard-on, but he would politely refuse her offer. I thought then that he might be gay. But when one of the bisexual husbands began fondling his cock, he politely begged off those advances as well. Eventually, everyone left him to his own...vices—whatever they might be other than voyeurism.

I was more than astonished by his control. I never would have believed anyone could go an hour without sexual release when in frenzy, let alone days. And make no mistake about it, he was in a state of frenzy, just like the others.

Even more astonishing, when I tried reading his mind to see where his precise appetites lay, I couldn't. I could read most everything else about him, but not that.

I've met a few more like him since, individuals whose sexual proclivities were blind to me. No matter how hard I tried, I could never 'read' them. Stephen King called the blindness a dead zone, from his book of the same title. I call these individuals, 'Blanks.'

Karen couldn't read him either, and never did trust him because of it. As for myself, I felt no malice about him, and so accepted his hand in friendship.

After the initial introductions, Portnoy wasted no time making his pitch. He said he knew of a warehouse in the light industrial district, and with the minimal amount of renovations, it could be converted into a first-rate adult club, complete with indoor plumbing for bathhouses, bathrooms, and possibly Jacuzzis.

I thought it a great idea, but hesitated due to the costs. I certainly didn't have enough capital to start such a venture, and knew a bank wouldn't lend money on a business model based on a private sex club.

Portnoy waved that off, stating he would see to the acquisition of the building and its renovations himself. All he asked was a cut of fifteen percent of all net profits when the club opened.

Naturally, I agreed.

It was about a month later when Portnoy showed up at my front door again. I hadn't seen him at our gatherings since our handshake, and thought he had given up on the idea of a club as being too expensive.

The last of the partygoers from our latest orgy were just leaving when I spotted him standing in my foyer.

Shaking my hand, he asked, "Would you like to see it?"

"You bought it," I said with surprise.

A bright twinkle sparked his gray eye, while a small crease touched his lips. "Bought, and then some, my dear sir. There are still a few odds and ends that need attention, but we could possibly open the club by the end of the week."

"Wait... What? This week?" I blurted, with even greater surprise.

He smiled again. "Come, let me show you."

We all piled into his Escalade. Besides Karen and myself, Gloria, Denise, and Jackie tagged along.

We sat, parked across the street from our new venture, as Portnoy began explaining everything that he had been doing for the past month.

"As you can see, just a typical warehouse, one big rectangular box; although, I was surprised how little work needed to be done partitioning the interior. Ample parking all around, though we should keep the front free so that we can set up a red velvet rope line with posh, red carpeting under foot, that sort of thing. Full Hollywood glitz."

I smiled at his optimism. "You think there will be a need for lines, and room for bystanders?"

"Oh yes, my dear sir. When word of this really gets out, you'll have to turn people away. Because of its size and the number of exits, building codes only allow us about 750 individuals at full capacity. As such, we should keep the guests down to about 700 total per night, which will take into account any support staff and security that's needed. Of the 700, I would only like the first 580 in line immediate access when we first open each night, except for late arriving VIP's, of course. First come, first...come, as it were." He chuckled at his pun, then continued, "Then over the course of the evening, we can slowly let in the remaining 120. This builds up tension and a desire for those waiting and watching to have access at all costs. We could charge these double, if not triple the admission." He waited a moment to see if anyone objected, and then continued, "There's one main entrance, and a suitable number of emergency exits situated all around the building. All up to code, of course. There was a large service entrance for delivery trucks in the back, but I had that welded shut as it wouldn't be needed."

I looked up and down the street, and said with concern, "What's it like around here at night?"

"A veritable ghost town, I thought that's what you would want. What are you thinking?"

"Well, by your estimation there'll be lines of well-healed patrons right outside our doors, and in a less than stellar part of the city no less. It would seem to be a sweet target for thugs and muggers. We'd be lining up lambs for the slaughter."

"I see what you mean. Although we will have some muscular young lads who have done work in the protection game guarding the doors, I suppose we should have a bit of extra insurance. Let me talk to the local constable about sending an extra patrol car down our street every couple of hours. Their added presence should discourage the...ah, riff raff."

I smiled again at his optimism, "You really think the cops would bother?"

"Oh, my dear sir, you'd be surprised what kind of protection fifty-thousand placed in the correct sticky palms can buy."

Jackie whistled loudly. Karen let out an abrupt chortle, but wasn't surprised by the stench of graft inherent in the city. Gloria sat with her mouth hanging open, and then asked, "Fifty thousand? Dollars? This is a bribe, right?"

I asked, "Before we go any further, maybe you should tell us what you've put into this so far. Cash-wise, I mean."

He thought for a moment, and then answered, "Oh, I'd say a little over a million."

Now, Gloria and Karen both sat with mouths agape. Jackie wasted no time proposing marriage. "Hmm, Mrs. Jacqueline Portnoy, I like the sound of that."

I blurted, "A million! I can't...pay..."

Portnoy quickly explained, "And I don't expect you to. The property itself was nothing. The owner was happier than a lark in spring to unload it. The interior was where most of the money went." Still seeing a look of disbelief on my face, he added, "You're looking at it all wrong, my dear sir. I see this as a superb capital investment. I have no doubt I will triple that amount in as many months. Come. Let me show you where my million went."

He led us through the front door and into a fairly extensive foyer with real, white marble flooring and synthetic marble wall covering. There was a smaller antechamber off to one side of the foyer.

I tapped the floor with my foot, producing a solid ring that echoed through the empty enclave. "Now I see where the million went."

"Actually, I didn't need that much marble, only here at the entrance, the corridors and walkways, and the bathhouses, of course. The majority of the club is done up in a sort of red satin-silk with padding and lounge pillows. Now, that was the real expense. An extensive amount of very expensive material, to be sure, but it's actually cheaper and easier to clean in the end if done right. So the costs may offset over time." He paused for a moment to wave a hand around, and continued, "However, before we get to all that, I figure this will be the main greeting area. We'll put in a counter where the patrons pay for admission. I've already set up accounts so that we can accept most major credit cards."

"Better bring a Visa for those hot, honey-filled vajayjays fellas, because we don't take American Express," Jackie said softly close to Gloria's ear.

Gloria whispered something back in her ear, causing both to giggle.

Ignoring their snickering, I asked while pointing to the antechamber, "I assume this smaller room is for coats and what not?"

"Yes. I'm planning on a Dutch door with a counter as partition, with one or two hat check girls to see to the members' coats and what not. That sort of thing."

"Yes, of course. However, it isn't big enough if more than coats are going in there."

"Sir?"

Karen interceded, "By your estimates, we're going to have 700 people, fully nude and fucking like bunnies without a care in the world. Where are their clothes, except haphazardly strewn around the building. After one of these things at home, it sometimes takes the sluts a couple of hours to gather their things. I can't imagine the chaos when all of them are tearing the place apart looking for their elusive de la Renta gowns with matching Prada stilettos, or their Versace silks with the Gucci loafers."

"You're right, my dear. I hadn't thought of that. I may have to expand the bathhouses to include lockers. Let's think on that as I show you the rest of the club."

Portnoy led us through a short corridor, also lined with marble flooring and white, decorative walls, and then into a darkened, more expansive part of the building.

"Oops, forgot to turn on the lights," Portnoy commented under his breath.

He fumbled along a wall for a second, until we heard the loud clicking of several switches.

Immediately, everything was bathed in a bright, warm light. "I call this the main pleasure grotto."

We all gasped. Nothing screamed Western excess and decadence more than our first sight of Portnoy's creation.

The floor of the grotto was sea of satin red and purple silk. Twenty feet above us, the vaulted ceiling was painted in trompe l'oeil clouds—azure blue and white. The contrast between the red of the floor and the blue of the ceiling was breathtaking, and all augmented by the simulated white marble walls with green and gold veining,.

The illumination, though stark, was at the same time warm, as if it were truly outside light. There wasn't a shadow to be seen. Even the far corners of the grotto were bathed in deep clarity.

The greatest area of the grotto was taken up to the right of where we stood; an extensive floor, plush and padded, and draped by hundreds of yards of red satin. Laying all about the satin were hundreds of silk pillows or all shapes and sizes—pillows for resting a head, a hip, to drape someone over or prop oneself up, for leaning against, or for sitting upright as someone tended to their pleasurable duties. Hundreds of pillows that could be used in any way imaginable, and all were purple—the color of royalty.

To the left of us, a much smaller area was occupied by a raised platform, standing about ten feet above the main floor and totally encircled with steps. It, too, was adorned with purple silks and red satin.

Between the platform and the expansive, padded floor was the marbled walkway on which we stood.

Here and there, and against each wall, large potted, green plants with flowers, ferns, shrubs, and small trees bearing lemons and apricots were interspersed. The scent and the look of it all sent the mind whirling back to a more agrarian time.

The real touch of antiquity, though, came from ten, make-shift Corinthian columns. Not made of real stone, but looking the part, each was paired in a row in the middle of the room. They were well secured to the floor and stretched upward, high above us, their capitals not quite touching the blue of the ceiling.

What with the warm, bright lighting coupled with the trompe l'oeil clouds, and the various potted ferns and other greenery lining the walls, the expansive room did take on the appearance of a grand courtyard opened to the daylight heavens.

"Naturally, I was thinking of a Greek or Roman ambiance," Portnoy commented proudly.

"Oh Roman," Karen said, breathlessly, "This is definitely Roman."

"Madam approves?"

Karen quickly found her composure, then answered, "I do. Although, wouldn't it be better to include a few more, raised platforms. Sort of like the one you have on here on our left. Much smaller, of course, yet done in the same motif."

"Platforms?" Portnoy asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes. Nothing too tall, say raised a couple of feet above the floor, and large enough to easily accommodate five or six partygoers. Something to break up the monotony of a single level, and add dimensionality to the...ah, fun."

Portnoy put a finger to his lips as he scanned the room. "Yes. I think we can do something like that. I'll get the contractors working on it immediately." Looking directly at Karen, he finished, "Say, five such platforms built haphazardly about the center of the grotto?"

Karen responded with a smile.

"Oh, togas!" Jackie suddenly blurted.

"What?" we all almost said in unison.

"You know, Roman togas and tunics. Everyone has to wear a toga. We could make it part of the price of membership to the club. Long ago, I watched a porno with my third husband that took place in Rome. You can't believe how hot it was to watch all those bare-bottomed actors in their short tunics. All those thick, hard cocks and dripping cunts barely peeking out enticingly from under the folds of their tunics as they..."

"Okay Jackie, we get it," Karen interrupted.

Portnoy beamed a great smile, then mused, "Yes. We would require them to come dressed in Roman fashion, wearing a coat for cover when outside, of course. Then at the end of the fun...to use Madam's words...if they go home with someone else's toga, it isn't a great hardship. It would certainly solve the need for a changing room. A capital idea, my dear."

Jackie smiled broadly, puffing out her ample breasts in pride at his compliment.

As I've said before. Jackie may be a ditz, but she was a veritable Einstein when it came to matters of sex—as was Karen, it seems. "Platforms and togas, any other brilliant ideas from you two?"

Jackie winked while saying, "Give us some time. We'll think of something."

I turned my attentions to the other side of the grotto. I was still curious about the larger platform set off from everything else. "Rodney, if you're going to install more low-lying platforms in the main area, then what's the reason for this larger, higher platform on its own?"

"I was planning on it being a dais for you and Madam... Or, in keeping with Roman trappings, for the Emperor and his Empress..."

"And entourage," Karen quickly added, as she slipped an arm around Gloria and Denise, each.

Portnoy smiled. "And entourage," he corrected himself. Looking at me, he explained, "I noticed that during the events in your home, you and...Domina, didn't partake as much with the other guests. It seemed you receive a great deal of pleasure observing the events. Much like I do. So I thought to reproduce that mood in a much more august and grander style. I've ordered a couple of fine, high-back, cushioned chairs that can be used as thrones. They should arrive tomorrow, and will be placed, side-by-side, at the top of the dais." Then, bowing slightly to Karen, he added, "And I will certainly order two more, maybe smaller chairs, to flank Dominus and Domina."

By this time Denise had wandered deeper into the grotto, seemingly taking a closer look at things. On her return, she astutely commented, "It's not my cup of tea, but during our orgies I've often overheard some of the guests mentioning more...how can I say it... more aggressive desires."

"Denise! You naughty girl," Gloria said with a chuckle.

"I didn't say I liked it," Denise said, defensively. "It's just that if we're going full sex club..."

"Say no more, dear lady," Portnoy interrupted, "And follow me."

Taking us through the main grotto, we ended up in a partitioned area in the back of the warehouse.

Portnoy began, "I've divided up this part of the club into various specialty rooms. I haven't decided what they all should be... Maybe Domina and her entourage can put their pretty heads and brilliant minds together and come up with some suggestions. But in the meantime, I've allocated a couple of rooms for those interested in their more...aggressive desires."

The one room he showed us was spacious enough, and looked like it could easily hold twenty people if empty.

The room's décor was minimal at best. There was no august marble flooring, or red satin sheets and silk pillows adorning the interior. The beauty and culture of Roman accouterments were thrown aside in favor of something far more Medieval.

The floor consisted of nothing but smooth concrete—smooth enough for bare feet, but very cool to the touch. The walls were made of an ugly, dark gray brick—looking definitely dungeon-like. Spaced about every five feet or so along the walls were simulated oil torches. They twinkled an electric red at odd intervals, simulating flames, and provided the only meager illumination to the room. The ceiling was low, barely seven feet high. All in all, the low ceiling coupled with the dim lighting produced a claustrophobic atmosphere to the room, particularly when one compared it to the spaciousness of the main grotto.

Various devices of bondage lay about the room, or hung from the ceiling and walls.

Two St. Andrews crosses occupied the far corners of the room, each situated above a floor drain. A leather swing with stirrups was suspended in the middle of the room, along with trapezes doubling as makeshift suspension bars. All around the rooms interior were tables fitted with wrist and ankle restraints, and bondage benches with even more restraints. Walls were lined with shackles, and rows of every conceivable paddle, switch, whip, and cane. Spreader bars, leather and metal cuffs, hoods, collars, ball gags, pony gags, open mouth gags, and all other manner of individual confinement lay about the different tables and benches. There was even full-body, leather suspension cages in the other two corners opposite the crosses.