Into the Depths of Depravity

It seemed strange after the humiliation I had just received, but he gave us both a heartfelt handshake and bid us goodnight. As the door shut, and Laney and I were standing in the vestibule, the cold night air providing an exclamation point on a chilling experience. I wanted nothing more than to head to the airport and to surrender once again into the loving arms of Mistress Claire. Laney gave me a forlorn look as well, questioning whether this move back East was really the right one.

Chapter Two

So, we began to explore. We found a local BDSM group on campus, but their meetings in the back of a chain restaurant were all idle talk and inside jokes. It was clear that none of the group members other than us had experienced true submission. It was also clear that most, if not all of them, were wet behind the ears and would go running back to their mothers at the first hint of real humiliation and pain.

We heard about a club in an old factory in a town near Newark, but it was just as depressing - - a few unattractive subs, a little Dom guy with floggers hanging from his belt like a repairman, and way too many New Jersey guys in t-shirts and plaid shorts, dressed for a pizza place but creeping around and just watching. It felt more like we were actors in a homemade high school video than submissives answering the siren's call of their Mistress.

Lacey and I explored some of the contacts we had been given by Sir Maurice, but without real success or depth of feelings. We persisted anyway, now clinging to our dream by a wisp of hope.

We drove up the Hudson Valley to meet a Domme, tapping on her basement door as directed. Her stone-floored basement had candles and some bondage frames, like a small theatrical dungeon, but she seemed to be playing her standard role as she had us strip, administered flogging and bondage, then chatted warmly with us afterwards. Part of what broke the mood was the sound of her husband, also a Dom, busy cleaning up the kitchen above after their dinner.

Another Domme and her friend interviewed us first in a Mexican-style chain restaurant, then invited us to one of the garden parties she was known for. This sounded like more of an erotic palace garden fantasy scene then it turned out to be; the two of us ended up naked and leashed to a chain link fence, where she left us after a quick flogging. During the evening guests came by to laugh and splash us with beer and grab at Laney's tits and ass, but the whole thing was more annoying than arousing, and we had plenty of mosquito bites for days after.

The third Domme took us to dinner where we discussed the ideas she had for our erotic humiliation, but then she insisted we go with her down the block to meet her young teen son who was working at his pizza shop job. Another erotic fantasy scene faded into dull reality.

Maurice's last suggestion was all we had now, a New York club reputed to be a center of BDSM erotica, or at least we hoped so. We had heard stories about The Club, and heard that it was worth a visit from us. Maurice was a member and had called ahead to recommend our admission as his guests. One of the best features of Rutgers is the convenient trains to the City, only a few blocks from our apartment. So, here we were, at 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, wandering together on lonely West 26th Street in Manhattan. We were wearing plain (and boring) street clothes, jeans for me and a track suit for Laney, trying to just blend in.

When we found the right number, it was a 60's vintage building with a small lobby next to a shuttered industrial printing shop. The lobby itself had a worn linoleum floor, garish fluorescent lighting and a single unpadded wooden chair for guests. The building directory next to the single small elevator was not very promising:

Able Mailing Service2

Star Messenger3

Lebowski Partners4

Club Services5*

*use telephone next to elevator to gain admittance

Laney read the directory and threw up her hands. "This? Troy, you're kidding, right? Best place in New York? We gave up our Saturday night for this?"

"Laney, please, let's take a look anyway. I'll make the call."

I picked up the grimy black telephone handset. The base had no dial on it. The phone rang, and after three rings a receptionist picked the phone. "Yes?"

"Guests of Maurice Tellman, Troy Marchand and Laney Collins."

There was a thirty second pause. "Push 5 on the elevator." Then a dial tone.

The elevator door groaned and slid open reluctantly. We stepped into the elevator, with its worn wood grain laminate floor and intermittent fluorescent lighting, and pushed "5" on the heavily marred stainless steel panel. When it creaked and shuddered to a stop and opened, Nine Inch Nails' "Sin" was the thumping music that flooded into the elevator. All we could see was a reception desk and black walls, with a graffiti-style mural of intertwined body parts. The young blonde woman behind the counter had heavy makeup and a black sleeveless top, tattoos festooning both arms, and a Bronx accent.

"We, umm, our friend Maurice - - The Club? Is this it?"

In a thick New Jersey accent the receptionist spouted, "Yes, the famous Club. You got it. It's $25 for you, $10 for the girl. Dress code is underwear or less, extra $2 each for clothing check. No alcohol, we have soft drinks and bottled water here at the counter. Closing is 4 am. No sex, no touching without permission, if you're watching don't get too close to someone's scene. The private Pandora rooms cost extra, but they're all booked tonight." She looked bored with giving this talk over and over.

I handed over cash, $45 including two small bottles of water. We followed her pointed hand to find the dressing (undressing, really) alcove. As we were walking away I noticed that her sleeveless "top" was really black body paint, and that her ample breasts and erect nipples were prominent on closer inspection.

We went into the alcove, which was a glorified walk-in closet. It felt odd to be stripping down to underwear in a more or less public place and handing our things over the counter to a complete stranger.

We had thought about how to express our sub couple interest, and we settled on two collars linked by a long chain, mine labelled "SLUT" and hers labelled "WHORE," both almost naked; a magenta thong for me, looking ridiculous on my big football body, and lacy pink half cup bra and bikini panties for Laney. She had traded her street shoes for high heel black pumps. I was barefoot. Without thinking, I reached for her hand.

"No! Slaves don't stroll around holding hands, Troy. " True, of course.

We found our way through the backwaters of The Club. This open loft space had been divided into rooms like stage sets, and wandering passages, mostly dark with spotlights. A room with an empty St. Andrew's cross was followed by a corridor, with a naked brunette woman tied into a bondage chair. At her feet, two men dressed for a suburban cookout were sorting through their duffle bag of ropes and toys as they chatted about what they would do. She looked more bored than sexy.

We cycled through the rooms matched to fetishes - - a medical exam room with scary instruments, an office for boss/secretary play, a school room, a space with a stage, a gilded throne room, and several dungeons with beds and dark wood bondage frames. One corridor was a line of small barred cells, and another was a series of doors - - the private Pandora rooms.

We wound up back at the room with the bondage cross and chains hanging from the ceiling.

"Troy, on all fours now!"

"Yes Miss Laney." I knelt on the sticky floor, with my cock hardening now in the tiny thong. Laney stood beside me, using the chain linked to her own collar as a leash, with her chest thrust out and eyes down. I was looking down now, and all I could see were her heels and the feet of people who came by to look us over. We had decided that with our previous experiences, we would only respond to a serious Domme, if we could find one, so we ignored the comments as men or couples looked us over or tried to get us to play with them. Being on display like this, with our obvious submissive needs, was humiliating but also exciting. I felt the first hint of the adrenaline rush that we had both been seeking.

Laney unhooked from me to seek out a whip. I was left there on my knees. Men and women came up behind me, some caressing my cock and balls through my flimsy thong, others probing my asshole with their fingers. I found this degrading and impersonal treatment strangely thrilling. A woman (I could tell she was a woman because she knelt next to me and I could feel her nipples brushing against my back) pushed my thong aside and started stroking my cock. I was about to cum when Laney returned and the woman faded into the woodwork.

Laney had never handled a flogger but she was brandishing it as if she knew how. Her clumsy attempts to flog my back were met with some derision by a small crowd that had gathered. I did feel some pain as the flogger's falls occasionally snapped against my skin. I was beginning to think that this evening had been another failed event until I saw her shoes. A woman's feet in my vision, but wearing clearly expensive heels and hose, not a costumed Domme in tall black boots. An oasis of elegance in a sea of trailer trash. I am not at all into a feet thing, but those glossy, soft gray leather high heels made me want to serve her even before she spoke to us.

The woman issued an order to Laney. "Step aside Miss, amateur hour is over."

"Excuse me?" said Laney, in a somewhat hostile tone of voice.

"You're wearing a collar that says 'WHORE.' You obviously are a sub with that collar and your laughable technique with the flogger. You'll end up hurting your boyfriend there instead of inflicting just the right amount of pain to make him cum on demand. Now step aside."

The woman's voice was commanding, even more so than Mistress Claire. I could see Laney's heels retreating and the gray leather high heels next to my head. There were very shapely ankles and calves accompanying those heels.

The woman let the leather tendrils of the flogger trace a lazy circle on my back. It sent a shiver up my back. "Does big boy want to come out and play?"

My mouth opened but nothing came out. I was mortified and excited. Her voice resounded in my mind and I felt a sudden swelling of my heart as if the voice was rushing to fill that aching void.

I heard the clatter of her heels as she stepped towards my feet. Then there was a constant pressure of her stiletto heel on the back of my calf, slowly pressing harder and harder. "Speak up slut or I'm trading this flogger for my favorite cat."

The pain was now excruciating. "Yes, I'm ready to play," I squeaked. I knew she was the One.

The heel dug in deeper. Yes, she already knows me. I want her to assert her power over me.

"Yes, I'm ready to play Mistress Elaine," she recited.

"Yes, I'm ready to play Mistress Elaine," I parroted before I was about to black out.

"That's a good boy." The heel came off my calf. Sweat was beading on my forehead. I fought the desire to rub my calf. I desperately wanted to look up and behold my tormenter and Mistress.

"Does big boy know how to count to ten?" she said in a mocking tone.

"Yes Mistress Elaine." I didn't want to appear overeager, but I would have willingly accepted one hundred of her strokes.

"You, whore, get on your knees and worship my pussy while I beat your boyfriend." I couldn't see, but I could hear Laney's heels clicking on the floor, the sound of her dropping to her knees, and then a sigh, apparently from Mistress Elaine.

Moments passed and it felt like hours, with only the sounds of Laney lapping at Mistress Elaine's cunt and the footsteps of people coming into our room to watch.

"That's a good greedy whore. You've been trained well in eating pussy. Now my pet, come off my pussy and tell me who trained you."

"Mistress Claire, Mistress Elaine."

"Where?"

"Brentwood, California."

"We do things different and better in New York. Bring that whore Mistress Claire to The Club and I'll have her begging to lick my ass before the night is over."

"Yes Mistress Elaine."

"Now watch and learn whore."

With Bjork's "Hyperballad" playing in the background I heard a single revolution of the flogger to gain speed and then the lash, expertly applied, to my back. The fifty some leather strands of the fall snapped in unison, creating a blinding amount of pain in a millisecond.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkk."

"Shut up slut. Count or you'll get ten more."

I was in the moment. A new Mistress who I could not see. The searing pain of her lash accompanied by a command that required immediate attention. An audience to my humiliation. I was in heaven.

"One."

Mistress Elaine delivered nine more. I counted all nine and bit my lip instead of screaming. There was blood running off my chin. My back was a raging forest fire. My cock had already evaded my thong and was fully erect and pulsing. I was overwhelmed by pain and my sense of need. She was right. I was ready to cum on command.

"Whore, get on your back and put your mouth underneath your boyfriend's cock. But I want to see a space between your lips and his cock so I can see his cum go into your mouth."

I saw Laney lay on the sticky floor and shimmy her body under mine. Her lips were inches from my cock.

"Slut, don't cum until I tell you." Mistress Elaine first rubbed by bottom with her hand. The heat from the flogging made my skin super sensitive and her touch made me almost jump through the roof. She could see me flinch and administered a sharp smack to my exposed balls with the palm of her hand. I emitted a pathetic groan. "Don't move slut."

I then felt her hands spread the cheeks of my ass. She wet one finger and started sliding it slowly up my ass. One finger quickly became two. My asshole was being stretched and I felt the full length of her fingers inside me.

"Jesus . . . noooo . . . . please . . . . ahhhhhhhh."

She picked up speed with her fingers, pumping them in and out of my ass. The friction of her fingers and the throbbing pain from the flogging created a dense, layered swirl of pleasurable sensations.

Her voice cut through the fog in my mind. "Cum slut."

Upon hearing that command my body instinctively stiffened. I fired ropes of cum into Laney's mouth and on her face. Mistress Elaine's fingers were relentless, twisting and curling, abusing my asshole long after the last dribble of cum adorned Laney's lips.

"Get up both of you and face your Mistress."

Laney and I scrambled to our feet, my back raging with pain and my cock still erect even though I had one of the most intense orgasms of my life. Laney's face was dripping with my cum. The audience, now counting at least two dozen Club members, applauded. I regarded my new Mistress, a tall shapely strawberry blond, oozing self-confidence and sexuality. We were home.

"Welcome to New York." Mistress Elaine linked the chain to each of our collars and led us away.

Our journey to the depths of depravity had begun.

Chapter Three

After the applause of the crowd, Mistress Elaine picked up the center of the chain linking our collars. "Both of you, crawl now." People were drifting away as she walked us like two dogs on the leash, down the sticky carpeted hallway to the red door marked Pandora 1. I was both frightened at the possibilities of what was to come and elated that we had found a new Mistress.

The private room was a much more impressive affair, with a polished wood floor and Oriental rug, better air conditioning and softer more flattering lighting. There was a heavy bed, two tall wooden chairs, and a cabinet with its door open to display a rack of floggers, whips and crops. The private bathroom had a large open tile shower with rings to attach ropes or chains. I could see that Laney's pupils were dilated as she surveyed her surroundings. She looked so beautiful as she awaited her defilement by Mistress Elaine. My cock was throbbing in my thong at the sight of two eminently desirable women who I desperately wanted to serve.

Mistress Elaine unclipped the chain leash from our collars. "Now that you've been introduced to New York, let's go back to basics and see what I have here. Whore, I want you to undress slut here - - no hands."

We were kneeling in front of her, and I tried to hold still as Laney put her face against my body, trying to get her teeth on the top strap of my thong and pull it off. My cock was hardening as her hair brushed over me and her lips were on my hips and thighs. When Laney got it off, she crawled over with the wet thong in her teeth to drop it in front of Mistress Elaine. I could see a large wet spot on Laney's panties and a thin bead of moisture running down her thigh. Laney was in her element.

"Your turn now slut, undress the whore for me." Kneeling naked and hard, I turned to Laney, using my teeth to tug her bra straps off her shoulders and then the cups down from her breasts. Mistress Elaine reached over to unfasten the catch so that I could remove the bra with my teeth. Then it was my turn to nuzzle Laney's hips, belly, and ass as I worked to get my teeth on the panties and pull them down and off. Her panties were sopping wet and fragrant. I couldn't resist sticking out my tongue and gathering up the juice running down Laney's lily white thigh. It was delicious.

"Well done, now show me your correct presentation." Eyes down, both of us got to our knees, side by side with legs wide apart, backs straight, chests out, and palms up. I glanced quickly at Laney, liking Laney's hard nipples presented this way, then locked my eyes down. Mistress Elaine walked around us, adjusting our positions. That old familiar feeling of submission was creeping back into my bones.

"Whore, tell me the most disgusting and degrading thing you've done during your training."

Laney paused only for a minute. With her eyes still down she said in a soft voice, "Mistress, I masturbated with a Perrier bottle up my cunt in front of four women I had just met."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Incredibly depraved and aroused, Mistress. It was one of the best orgasms of my life." I was sorry to have missed that Hall of Fame moment.

"Whore, what is your name?"

"Laney Collins, Mistress."

"You may kiss the sole of my shoe."

Mistress Elaine lifted up her foot, exposing the sole of her shoe. It was sticky, with lint, dust and hair evident on it. She wiggled her foot with impatience. Laney dipped her head down and kissed the sole of Mistress Elaine's shoe as tenderly as if she were kissing her cheek. Laney brushed off the lint that stuck to her lips.

"That's very nice, Laney. Now slut, tell me the most degrading thing that you did under Mistress Claire's tutelage."

That was a tough one. So many choices. Then the choice became clear. "It was the time that Laney fucked me up my virgin ass with a big dildo in front of a handful of strange women. I came into a glass and was made to drink it."

"And how was that for you?"

"It was wonderful, Mistress. Whore did a splendid job of fucking me and I've learned to like the taste of my own cum."

"Slut, what's your name?"

"Troy Marchand, Mistress."

"There's hope for you yet you worthless sluts. Do you want to find out how to serve a real Domme, not one to pamper you like Mistress Claire?"

Laney and I stole a glance at one another. "Pampered?" I shuddered to think what she had in store. But that shiver of fear was precisely what Laney and I had been seeking. "Yes Mistress Elaine. We want to know what it's like to serve a real Domme such as you. May I kiss your shoe as well?"

"Troy, suck on the heel like you'd suck on any cock of any man I'd put in front of you."