Rasheed and Serena's BDSM Service

She flipped through her phone until she came to a picture of a lineup of women, all handcuffed, tape-gagged and in leg spreaders, and all transfixed on dildo poles in their cunts. I recognized Serena as one of the women in the lineup.

"Yes, I take my turn on deck with everyone else. I don't make any money just because I co-own the place -- it all goes back to the women. I get my personal income $2000 at a time like all the rest of the associates -- we don't use the words 'slave' among ourselves.

"We had quite a debate over the poles. Even the biggest bondage sluts among us didn't especially like standing around with dildoes up our twats waiting for something to happen. But when we tried getting rid of them, clients really complained. Maybe they remind them of what they hope to be doing soon with their cocks."

"Do I need to get a number tattooed on my chest?"

"No. We use names now. Most people have gotten their numbers removed or covered up.

"Once a client picks you, he'll take you to one of the entertainment suites." She swiped to a video and started it. I watched Serena suspended upside-down, bound and gagged while a man took what looked like really vicious swipes at her with a flogger. She had a huge dildo in her ass and another in her pussy, secured by a thin chain that ran through holes in the dildo handles and then through her asscrack and pussy to a waist belt.

"One of the Theo-era rules that we've stuck to is that clients can't do any damage to anyone that won't be gone by the next day. But you don't get to negotiate your own boundaries like you're used to at Lucifer's. Once you're in a scene, you stay in until the clock runs out, or Jake, our bouncer and glorified DM, calls a halt."

The video panned the room. It didn't look much different from Lucifer's, with its array of restraint devices and impact tools. "It's consensual to the extent that you can quit any time when you aren't in a scene, or if desperate, use a secret safeword that will bring Jake running. But the secret sauce for clients is that it feels so much like genuine non-con."

She brought up some more pictures, this time of women lounging around a comfortable-looking common room, working out in a little gym, or putting in free time in private bedrooms. "One of the perks for putting up with what you saw in that last video. You'd be welcome to come and go as you wished when you weren't on shift. But given the housing prices in Toronto, some women elect to bunk there free. The quarters were designed for women who could never leave, so they have plenty of amenities to keep us healthy and pass the time, as long as you don't mind having no windows. The sleeping area used to have cubicles like a women's prison -- if you've watched Orange is the New Black, you'll have the idea. We ripped them out and divided the space into private bedrooms. You'd need to share showers, kitchen, that sort of thing, but basically it's more co-op housing than slave quarters."

I munched my nachos thoughtfully. Serena handed me her phone and I ran through the pictures again. The video of Serena being so ruthlessly flogged was certainly extreme, but it got my pussy tingling again in a strange way.

"Give me twenty-four hours. My brain is full right now, and my body is still humming from the workout at Lucifer's. But it's fucking tempting.

**

So, three months and a thousand government forms later, I was in Toronto, unpacking my bags in my room in Rasheed and Serena's hostel-like residence. I was introduced to Jess, Anabelle, Stephanie, Rasheed, and all the old hands who had stayed on, as well as a handful of new recruits like myself.

Rasheed walked me through the facility. The showroom and the entertainment suites were exactly the way they had looked in Serena's pictures, but seeing them in person sent a chill through me that was so intense I nearly backed out then and there. But I got a grip and forced my reaction down. I recognized it as the sort of reaction I always have when taking a step out of my comfort zone into the unknown.

Rasheed opened a small door into an equally small room with a cement backwall with shackles dangling from it. It was filled with boxes, shelves of computer parts, and some mops and brooms. "This is one of the punishment cells where we ended up if we crossed Theo. We were going to have it walled up, but then we thought it would be more fitting to repurpose it as a storeroom and broom closet. It's a way of thumbing our nose at Theo."

Rasheed looked at her watch. "It's almost time for dinner, so we'd better wind up the tour. Anabelle and Althea are the cooks tonight, so I think it'll be good. You might want to order pizza delivery when it's my turn to cook."

**

Dinner was delicious, but quite light. "We always eat a light dinner," Rasheed explained. "You never know how much cum you'll have to swallow or whether you'll find yourself hanging upside down. It's just as well not to start on a full stomach. We always end the evening with a hearty snack to make up for it."

After dinner, those of us who lived on site went back to our rooms, stripped naked and hung up our clothes. The ones who lived off site had a change room where they could leave their clothes.

Feeling oddly self-conscious considering how many fetish clubs I'd been in with little or nothing on, I joined the others and walked down a hallway, carrying the four-inch stilettos that were all I'd be wearing in the showroom aside from various restraints. We walked in and positioned ourselves astride our dildo poles, each with our name on a little interchangeable nameplate to the clients would know who to ask for if they wanted repeat business -- Rasheed had explained that we wouldn't always get a chance to tell them ourselves.

Rasheed showed me how to fasten the spreader bar, put on the neopreme wrist cuffs, and position a wide strip of microfoam tape over my mouth, then did the same to herself. I telescoped the dildo pole until the pre-lubed dildo was seated comfortably but firmly in my pre-lubed pussy, and waited until Rachel, the bondage rigger for the evening, went down the line and finished the job by locking our poles with a hex key and fastening our cuffs together behind our backs.

As rigger and maître d', Rachel was the only person wearing anything but shoes and restraints. She had on a tight black minidress scooped low enough to show the tops of her areolas peeking over the neckline and a wide gold belt that matched wide gold bracelets and a gold collar. Once we were all rigged up, she took her position by the clients' entry door and waited for the first customer that Jake would send in.

As I looked to my right and left at the line of naked and utterly helpless women, I could see why the clients had objected when Rasheed and Serena tried to get rid of the poles. I couldn't imagine another means of immobilizing someone that would be as humiliating and erotic at the same time. My own pussy was getting wet just looking at my fellow associates staked out like donair meat on a skewer.

The first client came in, and Rachel said, "Take a good look and pick your favourite. You can take a feel too if you want." He did, checking boobs and butts for firmness and roundness. He settled on Alex, another relatively new recruit, and said, "This one." Rachel handed him the hex key and he slid out the dildo, unfastened her spreader, and marched her off to whatever he felt like doing to her.

I waited with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension. This was all exactly the way Serena had explained it to me. I was eager to get on with the action for the evening -- it had been far too long since I'd had a really good bind, flog and fuck session. Given the way Serena had explained the rules of engagement, clients wouldn't be allowed to do anything to me that I really couldn't handle, and Jake would be keeping a close eye on the cameras to make sure they didn't. But it felt weird not to be able to discuss boundaries in advance, to know I'd be treated as a no-holds-barred sex slave, to know that my safeword was to be used only as an absolute last resort. This was definitely not Lucifer's.

After three others had been chosen, the fourth client walked in. He looked a bit like an executive who had just gotten off work -- expensive-looking, well-cut grey suit, solid blue tie, neat haircut and neatly trimmed brown beard. He walked along the line, now featuring nine women rather than twelve, and sized us up without bothering to squeeze any body parts. He just gazed at each of us in turn with piercing grey-hazel eyes, which he ran carefully once down each body and then back up to the face.

I had no idea what he was looking for -- Rasheed had told me that we hardly ever do -- but he certainly made me feel even more like meat in a deli window. He stopped for a moment at Rasheed, admiring her magnificent brown half-melon breasts, but somehow she didn't seem to be exactly what he was looking for. He came to me, and seemed to be particularly admiring my cascade of thick, well-textured brown hair hanging to my shoulder blades.

He held out his hand for the hex key wordlessly. Rachel handed it to him, and he unfastened the dildo pole. However, he didn't unfasten the spreader bar. He just wound my hair into his hand and pulled me forward, waddling awkwardly in the half-metre spreader. Even if it wasn't a very efficient way to get me to the entertainment suite, I guess the effect was intended to be extra humiliating. It was certainly working.

As I waddled in, I was impressed all over again at the amount of bondage furniture Theo had been able to fit into a single room without their getting in each other's way. I remembered my night at Lucifer's when I had told Charles to surprise me. I didn't have to say that to this client -- whatever he did would be a surprise.

He towed me over to a doggy-style bondage frame that I recognized as identical to the one that Kendra and Kev had showed me at the resort. There was something reassuring about seeing such a familiar piece of equipment, even though the equipment said little about what would happen once I was buckled into it. He took off the spreader as well as the neoprene wrist cuffs, and finally spoke as he pushed me to my knees by the handful of hair that he still held in his hand. "Get down there, cunt."

I complied as quickly as I could, hoping he'd release my hair as soon as he had me secured. I put my neck in the padded collar and my wrists, elbows, knees and ankles in the open cuffs, which he tightened up one by one until I was solidly immobilized once again. Then he peeled the tape off my mouth -- it was designed not to be very sticky, Serena had told me, since we would be wearing it night after night. Something like ordinary duct tape would have damaged the skin on our lips with constant use. Then he selected a red ball gag from the shelf, pushed the ball firmly into my mouth, and buckled the strap.

Actually, the tape would have done a better job of silencing me, but I guess he liked the look of his slave for the evening with something stuffed in her mouth. I have to agree -- even though you can sort of get slurry speech out around a ball gag, the look is more sexy than that of almost any other kind of gag.

He played for a minute with my dangling breasts until my nipples were good and hard, then clamped a pair of wicked nipple clamps on them. There was a large weight in the middle of the chain that joined them, and they bit fiercely into my nipples as they pulled them downward. I almost had a mini-orgasm at the sudden pain.

He disappeared from my line of sight, but I could see what he was doing in the mirrored wall. He positioned a machine behind me, a huge dildo on a pole protruding from it like a cannon on a tank. Great, I thought to myself. I just got off a dildo pole and now I'm going to have another one shoved into me.

I've been machine-fucked before, and my reaction has been ambivalent. On the plus side, a machine can keep going longer and harder than any human being ever could. On the minus side, a machine can keep going longer and harder than any human being ever could. If the operator isn't attentive to the sub's needs and reactions, a fucking machine, especially if turned up high, can be a really exhausting experience, driving a succession of orgasms far beyond the point where they're enjoyable. I doubted that this dude was going to be very attentive to my needs and reactions.

He moved the machine so the dildo was pressing firmly on my asshole. This might or might not be good. The few times I'd been machine fucked in the past, it had always been in the pussy. I like anal sex, but I wasn't sure how well my anus would take to reaming-by-machine.

He ran a big river of lube over the dildo and my hole, another of Theo's rules that Rasheed and Serena have been happy to retain, and started turning a crank to get the dildo into starting position far up into my rectum. The thing was big enough that my sphincter screamed in protest as it was forced open more brutally than I would have allowed a man to do with his penis. I let my own scream burst out around the edges of the ball in my mouth, but the force of the machine was unrelenting. Once it was in, the dildo was merely uncomfortable rather than excruciating, but it must have been at least eight inches into me before he even turned it on.

Once he started the machine, it began thrusting in very long, slow strokes, burying itself even further in my rectum. I was glad it was equipped with a flexible gel dildo. I could feel it going deep enough to connect with and go part way around my colon's first corner. A rigid dildo would have ripped a hole in my bowel.

I tried to concentrate on the sensations radiating from deep in my body as the dildo massaged my G-spot through my rectal walls. My body couldn't move forward much with my neck in the padded collar, but each thrust was still enough to make the weight on my nipples swing forward and pull painfully on the tender flesh. Each flash of pain from the nipple clamps blended with the erotic internal massage from the dildo, and I could feel an orgasm beginning to gather in my pelvic region. I don't usually orgasm from anal stimulation alone, but this damned machine was doing a good job of getting me ready.

He turned up the speed until the machine was pistoning far faster and deeper than any human penis could have. Then I was surprised by a hard, stinging impact on my back. I glanced in the mirror and saw that he had a flogger in his hand, its six tails of stiff braided leather ready to inflict another swarm of sharp stings on my back as he brought it down. He was using just his wrist and a bit of elbow, since full from-the-shoulder strikes were banned under the new rules, but he was still causing a hell of a lot of pain with that thing.

The pain in my nipples and the pain in my back blended with the hyper-stimulation of the fast and deep penetration in my anus to form into a giant wave of orgasm that washed over me and brought another muffled scream, this time of pleasure, from around the gag. Normally at this point a dom would have taken a short break to let me come down from the orgasm and let him rest his arm and his cock, but the machine just went on pounding relentlessly as it forced a string of orgasms out of me. I would have pleaded for it to stop if I hadn't been gagged and if the client hadn't been having so much fun watching my pleasure turning to painful overstimulation.

Finally, he stopped the machine, leaving it at full extension inside me, and started to unbuckle his pants. Good, I thought. This was great fun when it started, but the fun is starting to wear off. I wonder what he's going to remove to find a place to put that cock? Two of my three holes are stuffed, and the machine will be totally in his way if he tries to get into my cunt with anything but a finger.

Instead of trying to find a hole for his cock, he just moved around in front of me and started jerking off with one hand while he continued hitting me around the shoulders with the flogger. Some pieces fell together in my mind when I saw his cock. It was tiny, no more than three or four inches even fully erect -- technically, on the edge of being a microphallus.

I'm no psychologist, but I could guess why he was here spending $2000 to machine-fuck and flog me. He was likely ashamed of his little appendage, and had very possibly been ridiculed by women he'd tried to fuck with it. As a result, he not only liked to get even with women by hurting them, but also felt he needed a big machine to do his fucking for him.

Poor guy. Under other circumstances, I would have worked with him on that, tried to show him how he could use even a small penis to get the job done and pleasure both women and himself. Judging by how it was reacting to his hand, his little dick worked perfectly well despite its size, and if he'd had a woman to show him how to use it properly, he likely would have been just fine. Unfortunately, I was in totally no position to do any amateur sex therapy at that moment.

His BDSM session with me had obviously gotten him well and truly aroused. With one last blow of the flogger on my upper back, he grunted, clutched his cock tightly, and sprayed a huge load of cum straight into my face. I really don't like messy facials, but they're such a fixture in porn clips that I was warned to expect lots of them. I didn't try to avoid the sticky stream -- not that I could have even if I had wanted to. I just closed my eyes and let him spray my face and my hanging hair.

Despite his diminutive cock, there certainly wasn't anything wrong with his prostate, which seemed to be able to force huge amounts of cum out his pint-sized apparatus. Once he got over the rictus of orgasm, he had a broad, satisfied smile on his face. He'd obviously gotten what he came for.

He didn't bother to release me -- another frequent client habit that I'd been warned about. He just walked out of the room without so much as a "Thank you ma'am."

Within a minute or two at most, Jake walked in. He had obviously been keeping a close eye on the scene by way of the cameras, and saw that it was time to get me out. He gently eased the giant dildo out of my ass and pushed the machine out of the way so he could part my asscheeks and check to make sure it hadn't done any real damage. Seeing none, he unbuckled the gag and pulled the ball out of my mouth, then worked his way around me unbuckling various body parts.

"Well, that was interesting," I said as I sat up shakily. I went to the sink and washed most of the cum off my face.

"What did you think of your first time at Rasheed and Serena's charming little establishment?"

"It certainly wasn't the kind of scene I normally experience, that's for sure. That joker didn't hurt me any more than some of my bondage partners do in my regular life, but it sure was weird to have to just take what he wanted to dish out without mapping out a scene in advance or setting any boundaries. Mostly I felt sorry that he felt he had to do all that to compensate for having a small cock."

"If you stick with it, you'll get used to it. Just thank God you can leave and take a normal-life break whenever you want to. The women I used to protect were stuck here with no hope of anything different for years. Some thought they might have to spend the rest of their lives here. I've gotta say I sleep a lot better working for the new management."

I shuddered. I'd talked to enough of the old hands to be able to imagine what that must have been like.

"I have to say that, despite the weirdness and the fact that my asshole feels like it's been through a blender, that was also a strange kind of thrill. Something about not knowing what was coming next, and an extra layer of kink from playing the non-con role."