The Belt

She was tall – that was the very first thing he noticed. He was sitting at the bar, and she’d glided past just at the edge of his vision, inviting him to crane his neck and look again. His initial, uncharitable thought – given her height – was that she was a transvestite, but when he took another, longer look at her, he knew that this was definitely not a mistake he would have made if he’d got more than the briefest glimpse of her. Or if this club had better lighting. Or if he hadn’t been surrounded by transvestites – as well as rubber-corsetted nuns, adult babies and leather-clad dominatrixes.

Second look – yeah, she was definitely tall. Not quite up to his own six feet and four inches, but she’d reach his shoulders, at least. Tall enough that he could kiss her standing up, without feeling like a giraffe taking a drink of water. But that was just the icing on the cake… and this was an amazing cake. She was – quite literally – stunning. Well, he was stunned and that was as literal as it got, right? He drank in the black, thigh-length boots, the black, skintight costume, the whip stuck so casually in the black belt and he wondered if she was modelling herself on Catwoman. Oh, Christ, he hoped she was. What a fantasy that would be. Well… if he could get close to her, anyway.

It was – obviously – a fetish club. His first night at “The Gaol”. His first night in a strange town as well, but that’s not important at this point in the narrative. What is important is that so far, he’s been relishing every minute of his first night at The Gaol. Yeah, this was his scene all right. A place where he could indulge freely in every kink he had. A place where he could wear as much – or as little – as he liked. And right now, he was wearing very little. A posing pouch, a collar and his tattoos. Black stripes running down his back and curling round to disappear into the top of his pouch. Drawing the eye of the observer and concluding – he hoped – in a curiosity regarding what still lay hidden.

He had taken the idea from a book of fantasy art. From a picture of a feral-looking girl, poised in the jungle, ready to pounce. And, liking the idea of looking animalistic himself, he had commissioned the series of tattoos and got them indelibly marked onto his body over a series of long, painful weeks. It was worth it, though, going by the amount of second looks he’d had tonight. Second looks from everybody, it seemed, barring Catwoman there.

She was gone. The cat was gone. Disappeared into the crowd, as lithely and completely as the animal he himself sought to emulate. He swung back to the bar in disappointment and raised his glass to drain the contents, then tried to catch the eye of the big, butch girl with the rose between her breasts to order a refill. Someone tapped him on the shoulder before he succeeded however, and he swung round, hoping the cat had returned.

It wasn’t her.

“Want to play, big boy?” The speaker’s outfit was composed entirely of red leather – such as it was. It amounted to little more than a bikini outfit, with a pair of stiletto heeled shoes. She had a red handbag hanging casually from one shoulder. She was certainly attractive, and he did feel himself spontaneously stirring in response to her invitation. She noticed and her eyes sparkled as they deliberately and indiscreetly looked down at his own indiscretion. “I can see you do,” she said. She held out a hand. “Why not come with me?”

“I’m not submissive,” he answered, but took her hand anyway and allowed her to draw him from the stool.

She smiled at that. “Then why the collar?”

“Decoration,” he answered. “I didn’t think of it as a submissive thing.”

“Then why are you following me?”

OK, she had him there. He smiled shyly. “I’m…possibly not submissive,” he amended. “I don’t know yet.”

She led him to the middle of the room. Two hooks were set into the ceiling, with chains hanging down and padded leather cuffs on the ends of the chains. Two more, shorter chains were set into the floor – also with cuffs. “Testing your limits, are you?” she asked.

He nodded. “Experimenting. Finding out,” he answered.

“Then let’s have some fun while you find out.”

During this exchange, she had taken his unresisting arms and fastened them into the cuffs hanging from the ceiling, then dropped to her knees and done the same with his ankles. His erection drooped, as the reality of the situation set in, swiftly followed by the implications of it. He was helpless now, wasn’t he? Maybe hewasn’t submissive – but he was still helpless and he was still going to find out what it was like to be submissive. He wasn’t sure how happy he was about that.

“It’s OK, honey… just relax. Say ‘carnations’ if it gets to be too much for you.”

“’Carnations?’” he said, confused.

“Hey, give me a chance to start!” The girl smiled at him, then looked at his face and drained some of the levity away. She moved closer. “Honey, I promise you that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to happen. If you want to stop, just say ‘carnations’. It’s a safe word and I always respect it.”

“Why not just say ‘stop’?” he asked.

“Because that’s what people say anyway – whether they want to stop or not.” She laughed at him, suddenly. “You really don’t know much about this kind of thing, do you? It’s part of the fun for a lot of people if they fantasise about being tortured against their will, so begging their tormentor to stop is part of the scene.”

He nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah, I get it now. I don’t like pain, though.”

“Oh, a real virgin, eh? Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you, honey.”

She pulled a blindfold out of her handbag, reached up and tied it over his eyes. “My name’s Carole, Honey. What’s yours?”

“J-James. Um, Jim.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “Well, Jim. Relax a little and open yourself up to new possibilities. You never can tell what you’re going to enjoy.”

She drifted round behind him, and he felt fingertips trailing across his back, tracing the outline of one of his tattoos. The fingertips of the other hand, traced another one and then both hands slid down his sides, slowly and sensuously, before coming to rest on his waist. He made a soft “mmm” sound of appreciation and arched his back towards her. Her touch left him and he felt suddenly bereft. He waited to find out what would happen next.

It was a while before anything did. It seemed that Carole enjoyed teasing – he waited a long time and started to worry that he had been abandoned. When the flogging began, he was so startled that he cried out in shock. A light, rhythmic pounding from two… two… he didn’t know what they were, but they felt like some kind of heavy tassles. There was no pain, at first – just that pounding, alternating quickly – left, then right, then left, then right. And then, without any noticeable change in pressure or speed, he realised that the sensation was becoming uncomfortable and he started to strain to be out of the their way, but they just followed.

And then stopped. And then Carole’s hands, caressing and soothing where the tassels had been pounding. He sighed and once more pressed against her hands. And once more, she drew them away.

Something else began striking him now. Something bendier, more flexible, stingier… He cried out again, and once more began straining to get out the way. The focus of her attention was his arse now, and just as he was beginning to bless his pouch for affording him some protection, he felt her fingertips slide into his waistband and pull it down slightly, at the back. He flushed bright red, as he wondered what kind of sight he was presenting to anyone who might be in front of him. What could they see? The top of his cock? Not really – the waistband hadn’t gone down that far, in the front. His pubic hair? Definitely.

But then, the one kink he had that he was aware of was exhibitionism, and he knew that he hoped that he was being watched. And with that thought, his cock – treacherous appendage – began to rise and seek out the attention of those potential eyes. It rose upward blindly and got snagged in the elasticated waistband of his pouch, which still offered enough freedom for a full erection. And then, perhaps aware of its stirring, Carole laid off her flagellation once more and pressed herself against Jim’s body, to reach round and caress his cock through the fabric of his pouch.

His sigh came louder than ever and his cock swelled even further and pulsed to her touch. He felt her fingertips slide up his shaft, then slide inside the pouch to dance lightly across his glans, causing his whole body to shudder violently. She laughed softly and did it again. He shuddered once more. She made a soft, humming noise and then started playing with his balls.

“Now, why do you want to be wearing this pouch? Can’t be very comfortable, can it? Not with this monster straining away, inside.”

“I had to wear something,” he said.

“But you are wearing something,” she pointed out, very reasonably. “You have a collar.” He didn’t answer, so she leaned closer until her lips were virtually touching his ear. “You don’tneed anything else, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do,” she answered. “Shall we get rid of this?”

“I don’t…”

“Suuuure, you do.” Her hand slid back up his shaft once more, and gripped his cock just below the glans. Her thumb skated lightly over the top, this time and he found himself gasping violently. “Let’s get rid of it, eh?”

“Yesss,” he gasped and she withdrew her hand.

“Good boy,” she said softly and she disappeared briefly. When she came back, she took hold of the elasticated waistband of the pouch, and he felt something snip at it twice – first on the left, then on the right – and suddenly, the pouch was gone. “Nasty thing,” she said. “You look much better without it. I can tell you’re the kind of man whoonly looks good in your own skin. I want to ask you something now.”

“Wh-what?” he asked, when it became apparent that she was waiting for him to respond.

“You remember that girl you were watching?”

Oh! Dangerous territory. Say nothing.

She gave a small sound of amusement. “I know you saw her.” She moved round behind him once more, then started playing with his balls with her right hand and caressing his chest with her left. “Answer.” There was no change to the tone of her voice – no implication of menace in anything but the tiniest, briefest increase in pressure from her right hand.

“Yes, I saw her. The one who looked like Catwoman?”

“That’s her, yes. She’s had her eye on you all night.”

“How… how do you know that?”

Carole reached up and drew the blindfold away from Jim’s eyes and the first thing he saw was the cat – sitting on a stool, directly in front of him – barely six feet away and watching him, intently. Carole was still playing with his balls and his cock was still hard, solid and throbbing. The cat smiled and licked her lips. She stood and walked forward.

“I want you,” she said.

He didn’t answer – didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I’m looking for a slave.”

“I’m not submissive,” he answered.

She placed a hand on his chest and stroked it. “No?” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered. He was panting now. Finding it hard to speak.

“I think you could be,” she said. “I think you’re perfect.”

“I was…” He had to say something. Had to stall for time. “I was playing with Carole!”

“Carole, tell him who you are!” the cat snapped.

“I’m your slave, Mistress,” Carole answered.

“Yes,” the cat said. “My slave. And now I want another slave, and I’ve got my eye on you. Is there nothing I can do to persuade you?”

Jim couldn’t think clearly. “We could… we could talk about it,” he managed to suggest. “Yes! Over a drink. Or in a café. Are there any cafés still open round here?” He stared into stony eyes that gave nothing away. “I’m new in town,” he concluded lamely.

“Carole, give me the tape measure,” the cat said. She sounded suddenly bored.

Carole fumbled in her handbag briefly, before producing a tape measure, as well as a notepad and pencil. She turned to a fresh page and waited. The cat placed the tape against Jim’s cock.

“Length – eight inches. Hmm, not bad. Well done. Circumference…”

Suddenly mortified, Jim closed his eyes and waited for this humiliation to stop. But… a question was forming in his head. Was he merely mortified, or was he actually excited as well? Wasn’t this very public humiliation turning him on? From the corner of his eye, he could see the occupants of a nearby table. A girl was watching and licking her lips, absently. Her boyfriend suddenly seemed to realise that her attention was elsewhere and looked round to see what she was looking at, then nudged her and whispered in her ear. She blushed, but didn’t look away – and suddenly, everybody at the table was looking over.

“A problem presents itself.” The cat’s voice rang sharply in his ear, suddenly. He looked at her again, the question evident in his expression.

“The squeeze technique?” Carole suggested from behind him.

“Not going to go down on its own, is it?” the cat said. “But I know something more fun than the squeeze technique. Get some ice.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Carole said. She disappeared.

“I’ll do you a deal,” the cat said to Jim when she was gone. “You can say the safe word if you like, and I’ll let you go right now, but I don’t think you want that, do you? You’re enjoying this and you’re intrigued. Aren’t you?”

Jim nodded. “Yes, I am,” he answered.

“Well, then the deal is this. I want you to wear something for me.” She reached up and undid his collar. “And then, when you’ve tried it on… then you can tell me whether you want to see me again. But if you do – if you agree to see me again – it’s going to be under my terms, completely. Agreed?”

Jim nodded. “OK,” he said. “I mean… yeah… I can do that.”

The cat smiled. “My name is Sian, by the way,” she said.

Jim would have said more, but Carole arrived back at that point, with a glass of half-melted ice. The two girls swapped their items – Sian took the glass and Carole took the collar, which disappeared into her bag. “Time to finish measuring this monster, I think,” Sian said. Then she scooped out a handful of ice and pressed it against Jim’s cock. The men at the table winced, but the girls laughed and spontaneously broke into applause.

Jim’s body spasmed briefly, in shock, but had nowhere to go – restrained as it was. Sian followed up the contact with the ice, by dumping the water over Jim’s cock. He shuddered some more. She held the ice against him a moment longer, then took it away.

“Ahh,” she said. “That seems to have had the desired effect. Carole?”

Carole handed the tape measure back, and Sian quickly and efficiently measured Jim’s now flaccid cock once more, while Carole dutifully wrote down the figures. She moved from his cock to his waist next, and measured that too – then from his waist to down between his legs. Finally, she told Carole to release him, then turned her back and walked away. Jim looked down at his penis and suddenly he was no longer under any illusion about how he felt. The icy water had completely shrivelled him. Face burning, he looked round the room and hoped that nobody was witnessing his humiliation – but now, it seemed, that everyone was watching.

Carole undid the wrist restraints first, then knelt to undo the ankle ones. He dropped his hands to cover his penis, but Carole looked up and evidently disapproved. She slapped his hands away, so he drew them back and rubbed some life back into his wrists, instead. Finally, Carole stood up and led him over to a corner table, where Sian was sitting. Sian nodded at her. “You know what to do,” she said. Carole nodded and walked away.

“Have a seat,” Sian said and Jim sat down opposite her. She stretched languorously and sensuously, in front of him – obviously putting on a show. Her body was perfect, he realised. Caramel coloured skin. Firm breasts – not too big or too small. With the table between them, he couldn’t see her stomach, but he remembered that it had looked very flat. It looked like she ran a lot, or maybe even worked out with weights. She finished stretching and looked him in the eye.

“Do you like what you see?”

He smiled. “Yes, I do,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Flatterer,” she said.

“What do you want me to wear?” he asked. He rubbed his neck where his collar had been until she had taken it away.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked a question of her own.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what to expect from being my slave?”

“I’m not submiss…”

“Yes, yes, I know. You’re not submissive.” She waved his protest away impatiently. “Theoretically, do you think there’s anything that wouldmake you be submissive?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m sure there is.”

“What?” she asked. “Tell me.”

“Hmm… blackmail, I think.”

“Oh? Like if I knew you’d visited an establishment like this and threatened to tell people.”

Jim laughed at that. “I suppose that would work if I was ashamed of it. I’m not, though.”

She shrugged. “Ah, well. That’s out, then. What else?”

He considered for a moment. “If I met someone who was very persuasive and talked me into subbing and offered me something for exchange. Perhaps if she offered to trade roles with me.” He smiled at that thought and began warming to his theme. “Yeah, imagine if there was a competitive element there. Like we had to beat each other at some game, or something like that – winner takes control for a pre-agreed time.”

“Look at me.” She spoke softly, but there was an undeniable edge to her voice. “Do I look like I could switch roles?”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t,” he said.

“Good. What else?”

“Perhaps… the potential of some sort of reward. Like it was my girlfriend and she promised me something in exchange. I’m not sure, really.”

Sian smiled. “I’m sure you’ll agree that that doesn’t really sound submissive at all. It sounds more like a bargain – an exchange. Not like truly being a slave to someone else.”

Jim nodded. “That’s true,” he said.

“I want a slave. And you say that’s not you. But you might yet change your mind. You might yet agree to be submissive to me, before the end of the night. And if you do, you should know what to expect. So back to my earlier question – wouldn’t you like to know what to expect?”

“All right. Yes. I’d like to know.”

“When you become my slave, you will keep the freedom you have become accustomed to – within limits. You will live in your own home and you will keep your own money – I don’t require financial tribute from you. I am very wealthy and have no interest in whatever trivial monetary value you have. You will, however, be summoned to me – as and when I require your presence. And when you are with me, you will do as you are told at all times – you will be my pet. My slave. In fact, you will be my whore. In my home, you and Carole will be naked at all times, unless I give either of you permission to wear clothes. Sound simple so far?”

He nodded. “Yes, it does.”

“Good. Pay attention. You are no longer going to be allowed to have any sexual contact with girls other than those I give my approval to. Carole and I are obviously exempt from that. You are no longer allowed to indulge in masturbation without my permission. Your penis – along with the rest of your body – will cease to be your property and will become mine. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“You’re aware that I might not call on you for several days at a time. Even weeks. That’s a long time to go without being allowed to masturbate. Do you think you… ah, there you are. Did you get it?”

Carole sat down next to Sian on the other side of the table. She handed something over to Sian, which was quickly spirited away beneath the table. “That’s a temporary one,” she said. “A better fitting one will have to wait.”