Incipiunt Vitae Novae Pt. 02: The Raptors' Nest

Looking for Michela? Her name indeed appears here, but she really only enters the stage in part three. My original part two seemed a bit unwieldy so I split it into two more easily digestible halves, making a newly-introduced bottom entirely dependent on you to determine how long he languishes in the predicament he finds himself in at the end of this part.

*****

The weekly staff meeting was often a source of important information, an opportunity to be seen and heard by the executives at the web services company where Ginny worked in marketing and sales. But not today - vacation season decimates attendance, especially from those with the self-confidence to adjourn early if the meeting's work is actually finished. Several junior staff members droned on and on; Ginny wondered why she even kept working, but face it - she'd blow through Barbara's legacy in a hurry if she stopped. Stifling a yawn, Ginny let her imagination wander back to the viewing gallery. By happy coincidence her phone buzzed discreetly, offering welcome relief - a smile flashed across her face as she glanced surreptitiously to read the message from Liz.

"Free tonight?"

"Yes," Ginny typed back quickly.

"Meet me at 8:30 at THB."

Ginny put her phone away, delighted at the prospect of seeing Liz again, a little doubtful about the proposed meeting spot. She'd been there before with disappointing results.

THB was once the Harmonious Blacksmith, an intimate gay piano bar, where well-dressed gentlemen enjoyed cocktails and discreetly sized one another up, or simply enjoyed the music and the company of friends in an accepting atmosphere. The previously decrepit downtown area, always convenient, became trendy and the labels no longer carried much meaning. Greater tolerance was welcome but sadly, the entertainment format was no longer viable; the cozy formal piano bar was considerably expanded and converted into a glitzy preference-agnostic dance club. A number of well-heeled angels helped fund the renovations which included, unbeknown to Ginny or most THB patrons for that matter, the sumptuous basement area below. That space is occupied by the Forge. The main entrance is from the alley - this access is recommended for those sporting heavier scene gear or bringing toy-cases. But you can go in through THB.

Norm's workday was much like Ginny's, except Norm didn't get any invitations. Careful to maintain his muscular physique, he'd worked out at the gym that morning, then worked at his desk until seven-thirty. He decided he needed some relief - he'd stop in at the Forge and see what might happen. Grabbing a light snack on the way, he arrived at THB at eight.

The Forge didn't open that night until eight thirty, so Norm sat at the bar drinking a whiskey sour as the nightclub filled up around him. At eight twenty eight he headed over to the corner, circling around a black curtain to an almost invisible door with a small "Forge" sign artfully painted in handsome Gothic letters. He swiped his membership card, and the light flashed red. He glanced at his watch - 8:29. He waited until the minute rolled over and tried again. This time the lock clicked, and he pulled the door open.

***

Michael sat in his study, bathed in the glow of his multiple monitors. Earlier he'd wished Liz good hunting, then went up to his own private forge, as Jen jokingly calls it, to work on improvements to the calibration. The last few years saw the cost of computing power drop massively; Michael is astonished at what he now can accomplish using techniques once thought just a dream. He'd already greatly improved the calibration using heuristic methods since he experienced it himself, but machine learning is now all the rage, and Michael is right there - Jen teases him about the amount of time he spends in his study with his 'virtual dominatrix, Michela Machina' as Jen refers to his work. He's introduced the algorithm to vast amounts of data from session histories, hundreds of mainstream movies, thousands of pornographic clips, even a certain amount of snuff material, and numbing quantities of world news. It's becoming extraordinarily good at evaluating an individual's muscle contractions, convulsions, grunts and screams, to determine exactly what they are experiencing. It has also developed uncanny insight into what really works for effective behavior modification versus what is mere brutality.

***

Ginny and Liz arrived at THB almost simultaneously in their respective Ubers. A small line wound from the entrance, but the bouncer recognized Liz and waved them over. He always got a shiver out of the look Liz gave him as he carded her, and he eyed Ginny with lewd appreciation - she frowned, but said nothing; Liz imagined appropriate punishments. As they entered THB from the street Norm was standing in the small reception room just inside the passageway to the Forge. There was no live attendant there, but a TV intercom connected with the receptionist at the Forge's main entrance in the back alley.

The Forge has a medium-strict alcohol policy - it's been controversial, and the present compromise is that you can't enter unless you are under the legal driving limit - no alcohol is served inside. There are sensors discreetly positioned at both entrances, and you must not try to evade them. Norm supports this policy. He mostly bottoms but occasionally service-tops, and is aware of the risks, both to himself, and potentially to others. Of course, what people do after they leave the Forge is not in the club's control, but at least it sets a tone. And this time, Norm's whiskey sour put him over the limit.

"Sorry Norm," the receptionist told him over the intercom. "I can't let you in - you're just over."

Crap, Norm thought.

"But you'll probably squeak by in half an hour or so - try again in a bit."

Norm retreated through the black door and circled the curtain. He was almost back to the bar to get a sparkling water when he caught sight of Liz and Ginny heading toward the one remaining cocktail table. Actually, Liz saw him first - her plan was starting to take shape.

Oh-oh, Norm thought. He knew Liz a little - she was a trustee of the Forge. He knew about her job, and that she also occasionally topped for fun. He'd never played with her, but he knew friends who had, and they reported that she was seriously rough - they wondered whether they'd come out alive. But they also admitted they couldn't stop fantasizing about it afterward, and though they wouldn't necessarily seek a repetition, they didn't think they'd be able to decline one if invited. Liz beckoned, signaling Norm to join them at their table.

What the hell, he thought. She's with someone; I'm probably safe. I've got forty minutes or so to kill, and Liz is good company. Her companion is pretty attractive too. What have I got to lose? He headed over to their table, where Liz motioned him to sit down between them.

"Over the limit?" Liz asked.

"Yes, but just. I'll try again in a bit." Norm answered.

The waiter came by. Liz and Norm each ordered sparkling water, Ginny a glass of white wine. Norm looked Ginny over. Man, she's gorgeous, he thought to himself. The usual small talk, mostly about Ginny's and Norm's work, started things off, and the drinks soon arrived.

"Seems like you had a rather dull day, Norm," Liz suggested. "From the sound of it, Ginny's wasn't a lot better - I thought I'd bring her here to cheer her up."

Ginny's in for a surprise cheer-up, Norm smirked inwardly. But no, she doesn't really look like that's her thing. Now squeezed a little tighter between the two elegantly, edgily dressed women, Norm savored the funky workday's worth of feminine aroma wafting around him. Ginny's long dark hair, her deep-set brown eyes, sparklingly attractive in the table's electric candlelight but also hauntingly severe, her strong, well-sculpted figure, her contralto voice, her intelligence, all were making a powerful impression.

Ginny was starting to warm up to Norm too. She granted he was good-looking, slightly shorter than she was but solidly muscular, clearly no stranger to the gym. She wondered what else he frequented - somehow THB didn't seem quite like his kind of place - maybe it once could have been, she thought to herself, aware of its history. A glance from Liz suggested that she leave the remainder of her half-consumed glass of wine on the table. They continued to make small talk, a little work, a little current events, a little real estate - Ginny wondered a little impatiently when the real conversations would start. The clock passed nine.

"Hey Norm, I thought I'd introduce Ginny to the Forge. I think you're probably legal now - shall we walk over?"

Norm wondered if he should just excuse himself right then and go home; then again, he figured, once inside they'd surely go separate ways. But Liz continued, diving for the kill.

"I've booked a private room, and I thought I'd show Ginny the ropes, so to speak." Staring straight into his eyes, she closed her talons with ruthless efficiency.

"Care to join us?"

Norm's resistance was instantly shredded. The trio worked their way through the crowd to the corner and circled the curtain where Liz swiped her card. In they went.

"Back so soon," the receptionist teased Norm over the intercom. "Hi Liz, good to see you. One guest?"

"One guest", Liz replied, relieved to see the the light flash green on the alcohol monitor. She pulled the inner door open, revealing a small, handsomely decorated anteroom sporting an elegant antique elevator, a relic from the renovations, refurbished and re-purposed for descent into heaven or hell, depending. Liz reached into a hidden pocket and drew out a leather collar and leash. Ginny watched, amused, as Liz buckled the collar around Norm's neck.

"Can't have you stolen; we intend to consume our prey," she joked ominously. Norm winced, resigning himself to a challenging evening as the elevator gates opened. The three stepped in and descended.

The first floor rose smoothly past the the gate and Ginny got her first view into the Forge. It didn't look all that crowded, but in the large space looks were deceiving - there was plenty going on. A group of women were practicing suspensions; Ginny was fascinated by the elaborate ropework. In another corner a man in leather just finished securing his naked friend to a spanking horse; nearby a gorgeously tattooed women who reminded Ginny a little of Khalidah though she clearly wasn't, practiced her whip technique as her slave squirmed, tightly tied to a nearby pole. Music reminiscent of that in the viewing gallery thrummed in the background, rising in volume as the elevator settled into alignment with the Forge to stop with a slight jerk. Liz stepped out quickly when the gates opened, yanking Norm behind her. By the time Ginny caught up they were halfway across the floor.

"Hurry up, Ginny," Liz hissed. "I'll get you a membership discount and you can sightsee some other time. We've got work to do."

Liz had reason to hurry. She was aware of her reputation for severity, and the Forge had a general safe word, posted clearly, albeit discreetly, on every wall. It was silly enough not to occur by accident - if it was uttered, others would hear and the dungeon master would be over promptly. Gags were strongly discouraged unless both participants were regulars - even then, checking in with the DM to agree on a signal was required. But Norm would not have to go to that extreme - at this point Liz would release him if he simply asked in a serious tone. She wanted him in the private room before he changed his mind or lost his nerve. Ginny got the message and hurried after them to the inner corridor; Liz tapped her card on the door-pad, and in they went as Norm's anticipation, mingled with anxiety, rose by the second.

Ginny surveyed the space eagerly; she'd seen just enough crossing the main floor to get seriously excited. A large spanking bench and a saint Andrew's cross dominated the room, at least for the moment! Nearby a quality pair of leather office chairs, like you might find in a law office, were ready to roll. Other paraphernalia rested on a side table, yet more hung from the wall. Two well-stuffed leather tote bags sat next to the door. Norm took it in too - as his arousal grew, he decided he could definitely do worse than spend time with these two attractive women. He wondered what part Ginny would be playing.

"Get undressed and fasten yourself on the cross," Liz commanded as she removed Norm's collar. "We'll be back in ten." She took Ginny's hand and turned back to the door, grabbing the bulging tote bags on the way. "Underpants off too," Liz added as they went out, closing the door behind them with a solid clunk.

Norm had a feeling he'd have to do more than just turn the handle to escape. He stripped as ordered, admiring his well-toned body reflected in the mirrored walls. The cross was unusual - it had no built-in straps, just four slightly recessed rectangular sockets. The wrist and ankle cuffs on the sideboard were also different - each had, instead of D-rings, an iron plate which obviously fitted the sockets. Buckling the cuffs on securely, since he knew he would be in for extra punishment if he didn't, he backed up to the cross.

To his surprise, when he reached his arms up, motors whirred, bringing the sockets even with his cuffs. He leant back slightly and click, click, electromagnets engaged and his wrists were locked in place. He moved his legs into position and two clicks later his ankles were similarly fastened. Again the motors whirred, pulling him taut.

That's pretty cool, Norm thought, feeling his body stretched, watching himself getting hard. He had just enough time to settle into position when the cross pulled him even tighter and lifted him slightly off the floor, then tipped backward into a horizontal, rack-like position. After recovering his equilibrium Norm once again stared at his immobilized body, this time in the mirrored ceiling.

Whoa, this must have cost some coin. He'd experienced a fair amount of bondage, but nothing quite this high-tech. After a couple of minutes his wrists started to feel numb, and almost in response it seemed, the motors whirred, relieving his tension. Lying spread-eagled on the rack-cross he now felt quite comfortable - his tumid penis suggested he rather looked forward to the evening with Liz and Ginny.

***

Several changing rooms opened off the corridor where the private playrooms were located; the nearest one happened to be free. Liz pushed open the louvered door and ushered Ginny in.

"I'm planning to change clothes, so I sent the totes over earlier - I brought some things you might like too."

A rich, earthy aroma of well-worn leather wafted from the bags; Liz emptied one of them onto a bench and drew out a gorgeous, shiny catsuit. A nicely tooled leather jacket and a pair of chaps remained in the pile.

"You can try the catsuit if you like, but it works better with a bra," Liz suggested as she began undressing. "I don't think you're into bras, but you may find one useful now and then once you gain experience. Remember, it's always your choice, no one else's. You're already dressed just fine for tonight," Liz continued, looking over Ginny's power-projecting work clothes. By this time Liz had removed all but her bra and panties; Ginny found herself more aroused at the sight of Liz's well-conditioned, well-endowed body than she expected.

"But you can spice things up if you like. Try on the chaps," Liz urged. Ginny pulled them on, feeling a rush of excitement as the leather enclosed her legs while accentuating her crotch. When she put on the jacket and looked at herself in the mirror, she loved what she saw. By then Liz had zipped up the catsuit; Ginny was struck by the raw sexual power combined with complete unavailability which Liz projected.

Two pairs of well-shined boots from the second bag topped off the effect - together Ginny and Liz were stunning as they exited the changing-room. Liz rather liked the look of the Forge-branded leather tote bag which Liz now...toted...containing her street clothes along with the other now empty bag. It did not detract a bit from her outfit! Have to get one of those, Ginny decided.

"If you get too hot we'll turn the temperature down a bit," Liz joked as they walked back down the corridor. "Norm will be warm enough naked - he'll be getting plenty of exercise." As she was speaking, Norm's rack suddenly stretched him tight. The cross completed its return to a slightly tilted vertical orientation just Liz and Ginny entered.

Norm surveyed his stunningly re-costumed jailors, powerless to prevent himself from demonstrating his appreciation, though he knew he'd pay dearly for it - Ginny was going to top, obviously. Maybe being tortured in style by these two gorgeous women is exactly what I need tonight, he silently acknowledged.

Liz sat down in one of the chairs, grinned at Ginny, and motioned her to sit in the other. Ginny looked Norm over curiously - except on top his body was quite free of hair and she didn't think it just grew that way naturally.

"Looks like your new toy thinks this is going to be fun - we'll soon disabuse him of that notion," Liz snickered. "Let's get your first lesson started."

Realizing he'd been recruited for Ginny to practice on, Norm felt a shiver of fear, especially since she was evidently a novice. She wouldn't know much about limits or how much force she could deliver safely. He hoped he could trust Liz to keep him from getting too badly hurt, but she was there on Ginny's behalf, not his - that seemed clear. Well, he admitted to himself, this is what I signed up for.

Liz rose from her chair and went to the wall, where she took down four straps. She handed two to Ginny.

"Before we begin, we need to make a few more preparations. He won't be able to tolerate being stretched like this for very long - it cuts off circulation. But we don't want him spoiling your aim."

Proceeding to Norm' s left, she continued her instruction. "Just do the same thing I do, Ginny, on the other side."

Liz looped a strap around Norm's thigh just below his scrotum, circling it around the leg of the cross, buckling it tight. Ginny got up and walked to Norm's other side, where she duplicated Liz's maneuver. She felt a surge of power as she pulled the strap tight, staring at Norm's immobilized pelvis. You won't be doing anything with that, she mused, noting his currently rock-hard penis. Liz continued the preparations, pinning his left shoulder back against the cross with her second strap, looping it through his armpit as Ginny followed suit on his right. When they finished, a slight whirring could be heard as the cross reduced the tension on Norm's wrists and ankles. He would still be immobile.

Liz walked back to the sideboard and returned with a springy black riding crop. She swung it several times, then brought it down on Norm's chest with a loud snap.

"Owww..." Norm howled.

"Count slowly to twenty, Ginny."

Ginny counted as instructed as a rose-colored welt gradually came into focus on Norm's creamy surface. Liz handed her the crop.

"Try to make one just like that."

Ginny swung the crop a few times like Liz had, relishing the swish it made as it whistled through the air. Then she reared back for her real blow. Norm winced as she began her swing, anticipating a far more severe impact than Liz's.

Liz caught the crop mid-swing.

"Too hard, Ginny. If you break your toys, they won't come back. Try about half that."

Ginny swung again, eliciting a solid smack, followed a moment later by a satisfying response.

"Owwww..."

Wow, she thought to herself, I did it. That felt so good... A second welt emerged, nicely matching the first as it rose into full bloom.