Missing the Signs

I determined to make myself felt and I began a deeper exploration once more. In my constricted world her sex seemed cavernous and I was keenly aware of every flex of her muscles as I sought signs that I had achieved success.

I hated what I was doing but, ironically, my body had produced a Pavlovian response. I had a raging erection and the urge to throw her down and show her who was really in charge was hard to fight.

Fortunately, she finally began to melt. I felt her clutching my tongue more needily and her whole body tensed.

I tried to work with her but she had reached the point where her muscles were no longer hers to control. Once again her thighs exerted a vice-like grip and then a muffled scream announced the onset of her climax.

Over the next minute of two she rode it out, threatening my neck in the process, but then with a sudden relaxation it was over.

She eased her legs from my shoulders and I was able to breathe normally again.

"How was it?"

Katie panted her reply to Zoe's question.

"Bloody good, but then after the drought that I've been through anything would be good."

I thought that she was an ungrateful bitch but the important thing was Zoe should be impressed. As I cleaned my face as best I could with my handkerchief Katie still sat unashamedly with her legs apart casually running her fingers over her sex.

"You know, what's really nice, is when a man knows where to find your clitoris. "

I was surprised to hear Zoe respond excitedly to Katie's statement.

"Oh yes! My idea of heaven! An unselfish man with a skilful tongue…"

She fell to her knees behind me and put her hands on shoulders.

"…I bet you're the very best. Show me!"

I thought, for a fleeting second, that she was inviting me to go down on her but, instead, she was applying a gentle but insistent pressure urging me back between Katie's legs.

Katie, as though in anticipation, used her fingers to ease herself open. The moist pink interior contrasted starkly with dark matted mess of her pubis and I simply wanted to turn away but I had come too far to ruin it all now.

Her clitoris was plump and stood revealed between her open fingers. With a renewed effort of will I bent to it and applied my tongue.

Ironically, I was not the expert they took me for. Usually, I wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible so that I could proceed to the main event. I certainly did not spend unnecessary time trying to make women come just by using my mouth.

The bud felt firm. I hoped that this was a sign that she had not fully recovered from her previous climax and that it would not take much of an effort to get her to the peak once more.

I moved the tip of my tongue in a tight circle and this seemed to her liking.

"Yes…that's sweet."

I continued in the same vein for the next few minutes but with no obvious signs of progress save that her scent was growing appreciably stronger. It was as if she was making no attempt to further her own arousal and was simply waiting for me to do all the work.

My annoyance translated into a less controlled, rougher, treatment but, perversely this began to have the desired effect.

Her body shivered and she gave an appreciative moan. Shortly afterwards I could hear the nails of her free hand clawing at the sofa and she started to come.

At that point I expected her to give free rein but, oddly, she showed remarkable self-control and let it flow over her with a measure of calm. The reason became obvious when Zoe spoke.

"Did he make you come?"

"Not yet…it might take a little while."

It was outright lie! My instinct was to get up and challenge her but I did not want to get into an argument and have Zoe thinking that I was ignorant of a woman's needs. It was bitter gall but I stayed on my knees and kept licking.

It took an age.

She was so relaxed that, at one point, I feared that she might have fallen asleep. I regard myself as fitter than average but my knees, back and neck were all voicing their complaints.

At one point I tried to speed things along by slipping my tongue inside her but she told me to "be a good boy" and do as she wanted. With barely concealed anger I set my weary tongue back to work in a tiring rhythmic circle.

From time to time she sipped champagne and I would have given anything to freshen my own mouth.

I reached a point at which I decided that enough was enough but she seemed to read my thoughts. She put her hand to the back of my head to hold me in place and, at last, she seemed to be getting close.

She was hotter, her inner thighs slicked with perspiration, and her breathing was less controlled.

"That's it babe…here it comes…"

She began to work her hips, pressing her sex to my face, and then, suddenly, she was still. We were frozen together for a heartbeat and then she cried out.

A gout of moisture hit my face, followed by more, as her orgasm pulsed through her. I wanted to pull away but her fingers gripped my hair insistently. It was as if her earlier orgasm was simply a training exercise leading to the reality of this gushing finale.

When she finally let me go my already damp handkerchief was insufficient to clean my face.

I got to my feet with my shirt stuck to my back and my hair in disarray. I looked for my champagne glass but could not see it and then Zoe was at my side.

"That was really sweet of you but you've got to go now. I've got an early start in the morning."

I was so bemused that I did not even argue as she ushered me to the door. At the threshold I was rewarded as she rose on tiptoes and kissed me full on the lips. It

was only as the door closed behind me that it occurred to me that my mouth was still thick with the taste of Katie.

Chapter 2

She called me a "fuddy duddy".

I was back in the same cycle of calling her up and her not returning my calls. Finally, late one evening, she rang.

I had been trying to make some sense of the episode with Katie and could not shake the impression that I had, somehow, been manipulated. For someone such as me, always in control both personally and professionally, it was a little unnerving.

I tried to express my disquiet on the phone but knew that I sounded lame. She told me that she thought I would be exciting to be with, up for anything, and then she called me by that same name my mother had used in relation to my tired, gray, father.

The reality was that I had experienced things, both in bed and out, which would probably make her hair stand on end but I did not want to seem a braggart and I could still not get past that shell of innocence that seemed to surround her.

In a spirit of reconciliation she asked me if I wanted to meet for drinks and, even though I had an eight o'clock team meeting the following morning, I said yes.

I offered to pick her up but she named a station south of the river. She arrived late, which seemed to be her habit, but she looked quite startling.

She had on the same black boots that she was wearing on that first night but this time in combination with a short leather skirt, which looked a little pricey for her apparently limited budget, and a simple black blouse.

She had also had her hair restyled. Her blonde tresses looked as if they had been hacked but in a manner that screamed professionally expensive. I could not make up my mind if I preferred this shorter look over her previous shoulder length style.

I asked her where she wanted to go and she told me to wait and see. Instead of walking towards the restaurant district she led me towards the rear of the station. Here, under a series of railway arches, were a car body shop, a builders yard and a neon sign that proclaimed 'Freakshow'.

There was a muscled doorman marshalling a short queue of people waiting to be admitted but Zoe went straight up to him and, after a few whispered words, we were ushered in.

The Club spanned three arches and the utilitarian facade gave no clues to the plush interior. Upstairs there were two bars and an empty dance floor but Zoe led the way down to a much more open basement space.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as we took a table on the raised balcony that ran round three walls of the room. Up here everyone seemed normal but in the large central space it was a fetishist's day dream.

Seated at the tables were men and women dressed in leather, rubber, latex and much else besides. Chains were much in evidence as were whips, canes and other implements that I did not want to think about.

The décor was predominately black but it was cleverly lit. The balcony was cast in shadow giving the central area a sense of theatre. In the background an ambient track was playing with a slow heavy bass line that seemed in keeping with the surroundings.

A waitress brought us drinks and I asked Zoe how she knew about the place. She told me that it was relatively new and that a friend of hers had been commissioned to produce some of the murals for the walls. Zoe had acted as hired help and got to know the proprietors.

It turned out that 'Freakshow' was private members club but if you wanted to play the voyeur you could buy a day membership which restricted you to the balcony.

As I cast an eye across the floor I began to perceive a common theme and Zoe confirmed my suspicions when she said that we must come on ladies night.

Most of the women were dressed as dominatrix's, although one or two were cast in the role of subs, but all the men, without exception, were being treated as slaves.

Some were chained to eyebolts set in the floor at each table, others were being led about on leashes as the women conversed.

I have never seen the allure of the S&M lifestyle but the costumes being worn by some of the women were stunning. Unfortunately, this contrasted with the majority for whom it was very much a case of mutton dressed as lamb.

However, even some of the less attractive women had a certain something. They obviously found their fantasy roles empowering and they held themselves with a proud dignity. Some were clearly conscious of their audience in the shadows.

The men were the same mixed bag. Many were nearly naked and, whilst there were some Adonis's, most seemed to represent the runts of the litter.

Fearing the answer I asked Zoe if she was into the scene. She laughed and said she had only been to the Club once or twice, thought it was a cool place to have a drink, and simply liked to watch.

From what I could make of it there was not much to see beyond the people themselves. Certainly no one was being brutalized. After half an hour I would have welcomed the atmosphere of a traditional pub but at least I was restoring my broad mindedness credentials.

Zoe must have sensed my boredom because she told me to pick up my drink and follow her. She led the way to the far end of the balcony where the stairway was blocked off by a heavy red rope.

She lifted it aside, beckoning me through, and I looked around guiltily before following.

At the foot of the stairs was another suited doorman but with a few more magically whispered words from Zoe we were through. To our left was the central arena but to our right a corridor let on to a number of private rooms.

Zoe put a finger to her lips shushing me to silence and then led on. I could see that each door had a viewing panel but the first couple were closed from the inside.

We stopped at the third, which was open, and peered in. The bare brick walls were painted black but brightly illuminated in the centre of the room was a man hanging by his wrists from the ceiling.

He was completely naked and his toes barely touched the ground. In front of him stood a large woman of indeterminate age whose breasts were barely constrained by a cinched bustier.

She said something that neither of us could catch and then she took a step back. She was holding a frightening looking whip and, as we watched, she began to lay into him.

She did not hold back and I was stunned with the ferocity with which each stroke was delivered but, incredibly, her victim retained his silence.

I could not help but cast a glance at Zoe and was surprised to find that my own shock was not reflected in her expression. If anything she seemed amused but it was too much for me.

I progressed to the next door and looked inside. This room recreated a medieval dungeon down to the inclusion of an electric brazier mimicking hot coals.

There were torture implements arrayed on the walls but incongruously set in the middle of the room was a vaulting horse.

Another naked man was tied and secured upon it whilst two women took it in turns to thrash him with a long leather tawse. Unlike their compatriot in the room next door these woman were simply dressed in skirts and blouses although both wore high spiked heels.

What I found incredible was their apparent normality. They were both reasonably good looking, the sort of women you might exchange a smile with in the supermarket, but here they were lashing out with all their strength to the extent that I could feel the concussion of each stroke from where I stood.

I do not know how long I stood there but Zoe was suddenly giggling at my shoulder.

"Someone's going to be sore in the morning."

A third themed room was predominantly white and decked out like a hospital ward. A large sheet covered something in the middle of the room offering up no clues. I was about to give up on it but Zoe exhorted me to wait.

A woman emerged from behind a screen and immediately piqued my curiosity. She was a tall, leggy brunette; early thirties perhaps, with strong features.

Her modest breasts were nicely displayed by a red bodice from which long suspenders supported matching red stockings. She was not wearing panties and her sex was delineated by a dark Mohican.

She took up the edge of the sheet and with a magician's flourish she whipped it aside to reveal three examination tables set side by side.

To each a man was secured, held down by webbing straps which allowed little or no movement. Their heads were held equally still in a moulded cushioned overhang.

She walked slowly looking down at each of their faces in turn and, as each became aware of her presence, they came to erection.

My instincts made me want to shield Zoe, and save her any embarrassment, but she pushed me aside a little to get a better look.

The woman seemed to arrive at a decision. One of the men was more corpulent than his fellows and it was on the floor, beneath his head, that she slid a small platform.

Once it was in place she mounted it and with a single graceful movement she straddled his head facing down his body. After only a few seconds he began to quake within his restraints and I guessed he must have been having trouble breathing.

If he was, she seemed unfazed. For the first time I noticed the stirrups which she could presumably use take some of her own weight but she did not seem minded to show mercy.

Even as we watched, she lifted her feet from the platform altogether and opened her legs in a wide vee.

I had seen enough. There was one last door and then we could return to normality.

I felt a sense of relief when I found that the room was empty. It was brighter even than the 'hospital' room but still contained some familiar S&M paraphernalia. In the centre was a large white X shaped framework with sufficient straps to make its purpose obvious.

I was about to turn and go when Zoe touched my arm.

"Let's look inside."

Before I could stop her she had slipped past and entered the room. I followed and tried to get her to leave but she was like a child in a toy shop.

"Look at this!"

She had picked up a flail and was whipping it experimentally through the air.

"Go on, get up there, just for a minute."

With a shock I realized that she was gesturing towards the whipping frame. I was about to tell her to act sensibly but then I saw the childish excitement in her eyes.

I figured that I was fully clothed and it would do no harm to play along for just a minute.

With an indulgent smile I stepped up to the cross and set my arms and legs along the limps. She immediately came up behind me and thrashed the flail playfully across my backside. I hardly felt it but I gave a mock yelp of pain.

She clapped her hands with glee and almost before I knew it she was kneeling at my feet and binding a strap around my ankle.

"What are you doing!"

Even now I found myself whispering and she put her hands together in a gesture of prayer.

"Pleeease….Let me tie you up and give you a couple on the bum. This is making me soooo horny. Then we can get out of here and you can fuck me senseless."

She had pressed the right buttons and I was caught up in her madness. I let her finish binding me. The ankle straps were traditional leather buckles but the wrist straps were tightened with a handle that operated a ratchet. It took her a few seconds to fathom it out but then she had me secured.

Once it was done I immediately began to have misgivings. It was not that I mistrusted her it was simply the sudden feeling of helplessness.

She picked up the flail and play acted the dominatrix before hitting me twice across the backside. Again I pretended to scream but she sounded almost petulant.

"This isn't working is it?"

With that I felt her rolling my shirt up my back and tucking it into my collar.

"What are you doing?"

"Please…just a couple more."

She set herself, drew back her arm, and thrashed the flail across my bare back.

She was not very proficient. It stung a little where the tips had curled round into my rib cage but I had suffered a whole lot worse in my schooldays.

She took up her stance once more and struck me with much the same result. I thought that would be enough for her but she was shaking out the flail for another attempt.

This one was better delivered and I did feel its bite. I sucked air through me teeth.

Gleefully she poked me with the handle of the flail.

"Did that one hurt?"

"Yes, I think you've had your fun for now."

"No, no, just one more."

She stepped back and I heard her draw a breath and hold it. This time her motion was fast and fluid. She followed through with the skill of a golfer and let the air explode from her lungs.

"YAAAH!!"

The pain was twofold. It felt like a punch to the kidneys and then a splash of molten heat across my back. I did not scream but I certainly swore.

I was still coming to terms with it when she struck me again. Three equally vicious strokes fell in quick succession and I bellowed for her to stop. My back felt as if it was on fire.

She dropped the flail and came around in front of me.

"I'm sorry! I got carried away. You're twice my size, I didn't think I was that strong"

As she spoke her hand casually dropped to my crotch and, in spite of everything, I felt myself coming to erection.

"Zoe, undo the straps. We'll go back to my place"

She reached up towards my wrist and turned the handle.

"Shit."

I looked up at her fingers.

"What's the problem?"

"Hang on a sec."

She collected a chair and stood up on it but she was still having trouble.

"Sod it, the bloody thing's tightening. Look, I'm going to have to get some help."

"Zoe! Come back here!"

"I won't be a minute."

I swore as her disembodied voice reached me from beyond the door. On top of everything I did not need anyone else knowing what I had been up to.

One minute stretched to two and then to three.

"What have we here?"

Startled from my reverie I looked around to find myself face to face with a statuesque blonde that I had noticed earlier in the evening.