The Club

She sat right up and swung her legs off the table, then stood on the floor, stepping into her panties and shorts, then pulling them up.

"Doesn't doing that make you feel sexy too?" she asked.

"Yes, it does. I definitely feel horny," I answered honestly.

"So, what will you do?"

"Well, I can wait till you've gone and masturbate, or I can simply suck it up and enjoy my session tonight with Troy."

"There is a third option, if you like," she offered shyly.

"Would you like to give me an orgasm?" I asked.

"I'd love to give you an orgasm, just like the one you gave me."

"This really is highly unethical," I told her. "I can justify what I did for you on medical grounds, but certainly I cannot justify you doing it to me, can I?"

"Of course you can. It will certainly be helpful and healing for me to see how another person responds to sexual stimuli and how another person reaches orgasm. When have I ever seen that? Never. So, it's educational. Don't you want to educate me? Isn't educating me ethical?"

"Well, . . . . if you put it like that, I guess it is."

I lay down on the table, skirt around my waist again, legs apart and she did exactly what I had done, stroking my thighs, then reaching my pussy, stroking my lips, then spreading my arousal along my love trench before entering me, sliding her fingers inside and bending them upwards. I felt her pressing and massaging the internal parts of my clit, feeling the sensations filling my body, hearing myself softly moan as my hands began cupping and kneading my breasts before squeezing my nipples. I heard my breathing become faster and louder, then I felt a rush of release as my body trembled, my scream of ecstasy barely suppressed as I came hard. She slowed her finger massage, then gently removed her hand as I grounded myself again and opened my eyes.

"That was wonderful, thank you, Sophie," I said, smiling at her, "Have you ever done that before?"

"No, never. Was it OK?"

"OK? It was sensational. Just let me get up and then it'll be easier to talk to you."

I swung off the bed, allowing my skirt to drop, not bothering with my panties. Impulsively, I hugged her.

"What are you doing for work at present?" I asked.

"I'm on temporary work at a fast food outlet. I hate it, but I've gotta eat. I'm also still living with my Mom so I don't have anywhere to bring boys home. She still treats me like I'm ten. Why do you ask?"

"We could probably offer you a job and somewhere to live right here if you wanted. We could also take a bit out of your pay each week to pay for the surgery instead of needing a lump sum up front. If you signed a six-month contract, then there would be no charge because we cover all staff medical costs. Interested?"

She replied without hesitation, without even asking what she'd be doing for work. "Yes, oh yes please." She threw her arms around me again and we hugged together for a long time. I felt sobs of joy, relief, emotion, I don't know what, rack her body. Once she let me go, I tidied myself up, gave her a few tissues, and resumed my professional manner.

"So, we need to talk about a few things and you need to talk with Marilyn. But before that," I added, finishing the brief notes I was making on her file and checking the clock, "I think it's time for lunch. Hungry?"

After Troy, Marilyn, Sophie and I finished lunch at the café, Marilyn took Sophie to complete the forms for her job and accommodation application, leaving me to discuss things with Troy.

"She's a natural, especially for women with a preference for other women," I told him before giving him an account of our further activities this morning. She's got a great figure, beautiful face, moves gracefully, is personable, outgoing; there's no reason why she couldn't be trained as a stripper and dancer, and being obviously addicted to sex makes her ideal for work in the brothel. The patrons like women who genuinely cum rather than the more usual fake orgasms. She could most probably also cum on stage when stripping with a bit of assistance. I offered her free surgery as well if she signs up for six months, which I think will be quite an incentive."

"Sounds great to me," replied Troy, a glint in his eye telling me he was thinking of something I hadn't considered, "So when's she coming to bed with us?"

"Ah, is that what you're angling for. Whenever you like. I'd suggest we should get her along for the evening social gathering tomorrow evening so she can meet the team, then, if you wish, you can work your magic and entice her into our bed."

He chuckled, "Just like you did to me?"

********************************

We met in the Dungeon a few minutes after 4pm. We had found that our weekly dungeon session was an excellent way to communicate both verbally and non-verbally. Couples who live, love and work together are usually very caring of each other and rarely wish to hurt the other's feelings. Therefore, over time, emotions can be bottled up and this can cause real tension in the relationship. If you ask one of the couple to verbalize their emotional baggage, they will deny all knowledge of even having this baggage, yet it is there, deep inside, affecting the relationship in work, relaxation and intimate connections. A supervised and carefully managed dungeon session allows each member of the couple to release the pent-up emotions in a physical manner. The supervisor must ensure that no serious or long-term harm is done by one partner to the other and that the attitude of each to the other is one of love. It is also necessary for participants to understand that the trumped up, and often trivial, misdemeanors for which they are punished may have absolutely no relationship to the real, suppressed emotional baggage but is simply an excuse to allow the physical release of the deep-seated emotions.

Any activities selected by the participants must be approved by the supervisor and, top priority, everything done to a person must receive that person's prior consent. To this end, an agreed safe word is essential and both partners must understand that the use of the safe word is both as a last resort and also immediately brings the session to a close. Therefore, it is to be used only in extreme situations and is to be respected completely. This allows play to continue during such things as rape fantasies, where one partner is screaming "No!", which can safely be ignored by the other partner, knowing that if permission was really being withheld, the safe word would have been used. In this situation, and in this situation only, "No" does not mean "No". Our agreed safe word for our Monday sessions was 'Monday'. So far, we had never used it, but we also hadn't been having these sessions for more than a few weeks.

Meg was dressed in her full dominatrix outfit of a shiny black tight-laced corset with a shelf bra exposing her nipples and upper breasts, which were held in place by straps over the top at the base of each breast; suspenders from her corset framed her bare pussy and supported her stockings; black high-heeled shoes and a light, multi-tailed whip completed the outfit. Although we gave her a hug of greeting and had been addressing her as Meg a few hours earlier, she was now aloof and in control and we addressed her as Mistress Meghan or simply as Mistress. Once the informal greetings had taken place, we slipped into our roles. We both undressed fully and knelt before her as she told us what miserable specimens of human-kind we were and how we had done so many things wrong that we must be punished severely.

"My difficulty is, where to start. I could just simply flay the skin off your bodies for all the unspecified crimes you have committed, but rather than that, I think we need to find out what you think are your worst crimes. So, who would like to go first?"

Neither of us answered, knowing from experience that to do so would incur her wrath because neither of us had been addressed in a way that gave us permission to speak.

"Carla, what crime have you committed that needs to be purged?"

"When the painters were here last week, I thought their bodies looked amazing and got hot just imagining them taking me to bed and spending hours with their big . . "

"Enough," commanded Mistress Meghan, bringing her whip down on my back to emphasize her command, "We don't need to hear the sordid details. Suffice to say that you had the idea of betraying your ever-loving husband. That, in itself, is an offence incurring serious penalties."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, looking at the floor by her feet.

"And Troy, what crime would you like to confess so it can be purged?"

"In the café last week, I watched Paula moving around and thought I would like to take her to bed. I wondered if her breasts would bounce or sway as she rode . . "

"Enough," commanded Mistress Meghan, bringing her whip down on Troy's back, "What a sinful, lust-filled couple you are. You both most definitely require a long and hard purging to expunge these sins. Troy, you can be first. Stand up and go to the punishment frame. Carla, you can accompany him and fasten him in position for having his ass punished."

We alternated in going first, this week it was Troy's turn to be punished first. I enjoyed punishing him first because he knew, from the amount of punishment I inflicted, what sort of mood I was in and what strength of punishment I wanted. Similarly, the reverse applied when I was punished first.

"Yes, Mistress," we chorused.

We stood and walked to the frame as directed. We'd both been attached to it on several occasions before so we knew what was required. In a few minutes, Troy was bent over the horizontal bar with his wrists securely attached to the upright bars, his feet on the floor wide apart but free, giving an excuse for extra punishment should he move his feet while being punished. Once I had fastened him in place, I knelt beside the frame, looking at the floor. Mistress checked his attachments silently, then stood in front of me.

"Carla, go to the rack and select a suitable cane to punish your errant husband's ass."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, standing to do her bidding. I selected a light cane, one which I knew would sting but leave few if any bruises even if I did swing it at full strength, which I had decided I wanted to do because I also wanted to be caned full strength. My only doubt here was that Troy could swing a heavy cane at full strength which would bruise and mark my ass for a week if he chose, so I simply had to trust that he would do nothing to seriously damage me. It was the development of this implicit trust that was one of the main benefits of these dungeon sessions. I also chose a light cane knowing he would use the same instrument.

I returned with the cane and presented it for Mistress' approval. She nodded.

"Prepare to administer ten strokes to Troy's ass, and make them hard or I'll take over."

I'd caned Troy several times in the past so I took up my position and knew that ten strokes was the normal number.

"Give the first stroke."

I placed the end section of the cane against Troy's ass, touching it gently as I felt the sensations flow through my body; power, strength, justice, compassion, a mixture of emotions that only those who have punished dearly loved partners can know. I swung back, then forward, hard, hearing the satisfying crack as the cane landed across his ass, perfectly positioned to inflict pain to both cheeks approximately equally. I watched Troy give an involuntary start and heard the sharp exhalation of his breath as he dealt with the pain. As I watched, I saw the red line from the stroke form on his skin. I wanted to cover the target area, knowing that the cane on untouched skin was more painful than on skin that had already been impacted, so my aim was to work outwards above and below the first stroke.

"Give the second stroke," intoned Mistress, knowing that cane strokes about half a minute apart seemed to be most effective.

I repeated my stroke, aiming for just above the first one, again feeling the sense of power, seeing his reaction and watching the red line develop. This continued until the ten strokes had been administered, after which I was instructed to untie Troy. He stood up, had a few seconds to rub his ass with his hands, then Mistress commanded him to tie me in the same position.

One of things I really enjoyed about these sessions was the feeling of helplessness I felt once I was being punished. Having a responsible job, it was very difficult not to feel that I had the responsibility to ensure that things happened in a certain way and that outcomes were achieved on time, etc. But when I was tied into the punishment frame, all that disappeared. I was no longer in control, could not be in control, so it was an opportunity for me to simply relax and let be what would be. So, once my wrists were attached to the horizontal bar and my feet were apart on the floor, I felt more relaxed that I usually did in bed. The feeling of trust pervading my whole body was amazing. Even hearing Mistress command Troy to administer the ten strokes of the cane to my bare ass had no stimulating effect on my nervous system.

I felt him touch the cane to my ass, imagined the swing, then felt the thwack of the cane on my bare skin. Two things happened; firstly, stinging pain radiated from my ass through my body, but secondly, and the part I enjoyed more than most other things I've experienced, a surge of power welled up through my abdomen and up to my head. I suspect that this was the release of endorphins caused by the assault on my body, but it made the whole exercise worthwhile. Unfortunately, it only happened on the first stroke.

The next nine strokes each sent stinging pain through my ass but somehow, probably due to the endorphins, these did not seem to hurt as much as the first one. Having watched severe caning sessions on the internet, I wondered whether, after a time, a person became almost immune to the pain of each stroke. I wasn't counting, so was almost surprised when Mistress commanded Troy to untie me and I could stand and get a quick rub of my ass in before we were ordered to kneel once again, hands at our sides.

"That was a good warm up," said Mistress, "Now for the real punishment. Troy, you're first to receive it this week. Carla, tie Troy to the split table ready for cock and ball punishment. Maybe he'll feel differently about Paula after his cock and balls are mush."

I smiled inwardly at her gross exaggeration, knowing that it would not only be Troy who lamented the loss if his male parts were turned to mush, then stood and walked with Troy to the split table, knowing that it would be my turn next. He lay on his back on the padded table, his ass at the join, and I fastened his wrists above his head. Then I attached his ankles and thighs, just above his knees, to each of the split sections of the table. Once he was in position, I spread the hinged split sections until his legs were wide apart, his balls held close to his body at the base of his semi-hard cock. If Mistress had not been supervising, I would have jumped on him and fucked him to heaven. Instead, I was supposed to beat him to his own personal hell.

"Fit the band," Mistress commanded, handing me a small elasticized band which I wrapped around the base of his cock and balls, feeding the end through the catch, pulling it tight and clipping it closed to hold his balls in place and exposed.

Mistress felt the tension in the band and nodded, satisfied it was not too tight, then told me to select a suitable whip. I looked at the hard leather flogger, imagining the pain that could cause to his most sensitive parts, then the pain and destruction it would cause to my most sensitive parts, as it was customary to use the same whip for each person. Instead I selected a medium weight multi-tail whip, then hesitated, this was the weapon I usually used but today I felt a little more daring. I replaced the multi-tail whip and selected the riding crop, turning and presenting that to Mistress.

Mistress Meghan looked at my selection and then at me. "Are you certain?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, knowing that my punishment would be more severe as a result.

"OK, let the punishment commence. Ten strokes on his cock and balls."

The advantage of the crop over the whip is that I could be more specific in my targets. I noticed that Troy's cock had hardened up still further, no doubt partly due to the ring around the base, so decided on two shaft strokes, a head stroke, three strokes to each ball, then a final head stroke. As I lay the crop on the upper part of his cock, I wondered what he was thinking as he felt the different whip against his skin. I lifted the crop and brought it down hard on his cock shaft.

His body convulsed as he let out a moan, his hips writhing sideways as he sought to disperse the pain. For an instant I felt guilty for inflicting this pain on him for some trumped up and hypothetical misdemeanor. Then he looked at me and I saw him grin. He must be OK, I thought, and the guilt vanished in the knowledge that, despite the pain, he was enjoying the experience. Thus reassured, I lined up the lower half of his shaft for the next stroke. He bore this in silence, his body still jolting and hips still writhing from the sudden pain. Then came the head stroke. I had no idea how that would hurt, probably much the same as my clit would hurt with a similar stroke, which I knew I would feel in the next little while. I positioned the crop against the underside of his cock head, so he knew where the target area is, then gave him a short, sharp, strong stroke. His body tensed, he grunted with pain, then his hips writhed as he tried to dispel the pain. I looked into his eyes, which were watching me, and saw he was smiling slightly. Whew, I thought, he was OK.

For the next six strokes, I lined up on his balls, aiming each stroke from a slightly different direction to hit the top, bottom and outside of each in turn. Each stroke was followed by a moan as the aching pain coursed through his body, as he'd told me the pain from impacts on his balls did. His body writhed for a few seconds after each stroke, but he was still watching me and still had a small smile on his lips, at least after the initial pain ceased. The final stroke was again on his cock head and caused a very similar reaction to the first in that location.

"Good, now you can untie him and take his place," commanded Carla.

I carefully removed his cock band, noticing that his balls looked a little swollen and red, which was not at all surprising, then released his wrists and ankles. Once he could sit, he carried out a visual and tactile inspection of his assets and seemed satisfied that no long-term damage had been done. I then lay on the table and allowed myself to be secured in place. Troy readjusted the positioning of my legs, widening the angle so that my pussy was more exposed. I noticed that the arousal caused by my punishment of Troy had caused my pussy juices to flow, as well as causing my labia to swell and part. Spreading my legs further apart opened the labia, which would allow the crop to have access to the inner labia and my clit. I felt a shudder pass through me as I realized that, by choosing the crop instead of the multi-tailed whip, I had opened myself up, quite literally, to a far more painful experience. However, I had noticed that the crop was a far more personal implement than that whip because you could hit specific places rather than a general area. While that was an advantage I had appreciated, it was also a disadvantage for the recipient, which I now was.

"Administer ten strokes to the pussy," commanded Mistress Meghan.

I tensed up, awaiting the first stroke, wondering where Troy would choose. I felt the leather flap on the crop rest on my left outer labia for a few seconds, then saw it rise and fall as he made the stroke. It wasn't as bad as I'd expected; sharp pain shot through my crotch and I felt the reflex action of trying to close my legs stymied by the leg straps. I then felt the crop rest on my right outer labia, saw the stroke and felt the same pain centered on the right this time. So far, so good, I told myself.