The Parade Ch. 03

Chapter 3 - Coming Out

I typically don't enjoy a cold shower, but after the sweltering encounter I just experienced, the iciness of the water is a welcome relief.

The locker rooms are much nicer than I anticipated. From what I have seen so far, every room in The Parade is kept immaculately clean and the showers are no exception. In fact, they were far nicer than the Massage Envy Oscar and I treated ourselves to for our last anniversary. The Parade kept surprising me. I hadn't imagined that a sex club could be so nice. The showers here are nice and roomy, though, come to think of it, they were probably built that way to accommodate multiple bathers. Each shower stall has a large rainforest showerhead in addition to several misting jets built into the walls. Every inch of me was positively drenched the moment I stepped into the bath. I'll let Oscar know that it's time to remodel our bathroom.

The misting spray leaves pleasant little droplets all over my body. They catch the piercing bright LEDs in a way that makes my whole body glow like a being made of divine light. It makes me feel pure. Clean. I fight the urge to stay in the shower all night and let the bright droplets play on my skin. The Parade has so much more to offer me.

I shut off the shower and grab a heated towel from the wall. The soft warmth on my breasts reminds me briefly of Not Keanu. I wonder if I can return the favor to him tonight. I wonder if I'll ever know who he is. There's almost no way for us to recognize each other out in the club unless I walk around topless and hope he recognizes me by the beauty mark near my left tit. The thought of bumping into him again excites me and I'm reinvigorated to get back to The Parade and take it all in. Maybe, he'll get the chance to bump into me.

As I dry myself, I replay the tour in my mind and think of where I want to go next. My brain is flooded with too many options to choose from: should I fuck Oscar while other people watch? Maybe I'll take a turn in one of the gloryhole rooms. Or we could try one of the many bondage devices in The Catacombs. It's all very out in the open and it sounds alluring in practice, but I'm still a recovering introvert and I'm worried that I'll psych myself out of it when the time comes to perform. I'm exhilarated and frightened at the same time.

I slip my tunic over my head and step out of the shower to blow dry my hair. I feel for the mask on my face just to be safe. It's my security blanket, I don't know that I'd have the courage to do any of this without the safety of the tiny protective strip of leather over my eyes. Though the elastic string digging into my ears is a constant reminder that it's there, I check anyway. The last thing I want is to be recognized by someone who knows me.

As I walk toward the sinks, I see someone who knows me.

Hannah.

Cold prickles shoot down my spine and I feel the blood drain from my face. Now, I'm one hundred percent certain it's her. I clearly recognize her face in the brightness of the locker room which means she will definitely recognize me. She's busy drying her hair in the mirror, dressed only in a soft white towel and a pair of shower shoes. Her long red hair is wet, slicked-back tendrils creeping down her pale freckled shoulders. She's got a tattoo now, a large one on her clavicle, but I don't have time to stop and admire it. I duck back into the shower stall and pray that I haven't been noticed.

My heart is beating through my chest again and I'm not doing myself any favors by imagining the worst-case scenario. Panicking comes easily to me. She'll probably post to social media about a pervert teacher who stalked her into the bathroom in a sex club. Teachers have been fired for less, so the PTA would probably burn me alive at the stake.

Calm down, Nicole. Breathe.

Four-second breath in. Hold four seconds. Four-second breath out. Wait four seconds. The hair dryer is still going. All the confidence is gone again. What was I thinking? The club isn't that large, of course I'd cross paths with her again. I should have gotten a bigger mask, a full face mask like in that Tom Cruise movie with the secret party and the big orgy. Hell, while I'm at it, I can get myself a big cloak and a suit of armor. I want to wall myself off and never be seen again.

But the tour guide said something like this might happen. See someone you know at The Parade? Well, that means that they are here, too. Plus, Hannah isn't even a student of mine anymore, she's a grown woman. Why am I hiding from her? Why was I hiding at all? I feel like such a coward all the time. I'm always so scared of what might happen if people see me that I've wasted half my thirties sitting at home and saying "no" to any gathering of three or more people. I've got to get over this now if I'm going to be able to enjoy myself without looking over my shoulder every few seconds. I want to be dangerous, to feel the real risk that can only come from coming out of the shadows. Fear can't control me. I slip the mask into my back pocket and step out of the shower once more.

Time flies when you're stuck in a spiral of existential dread. Hannah is now fully dried, dressed, and just finishing applying a thin cat eye. Despite being in her mid twenties, she still looks like the Hannah who quietly completed all her work on time before disappearing into whatever fantasy novel she was reading at the time. She wears the grungy-goth schoolgirl look well. It's cute. The big boots, baggy plaid shirt, and skinny little legs remind me a bit of a Bratz doll.

Hannah looks toward me as though she has been expecting me and my heart stops in anticipation for what she might say. Hannah smiles. I'm glad her eyes don't have the cold perfectness as a Bratz. They are warm and kind and slightly creased by her smile.

"Hi, Mrs. Olsen! Remember me yet?" Not the level of enthusiasm I was expecting, if I'm being perfectly honest.

"Hi Hannah," I'm not sure what to say in this situation, but its not my place to scold her or interrogate her for being here. She's got the same right to be here as I do, so I try to forget that we're in a sex dungeon for a moment. "How have you been? It's been so long! Sorry I didn't recognize you earlier. It's dark out there."

"No worries. I'm doing alright." Hannah's eyes scan me up and down. Her eyes are filled with questions, and she clearly doesn't want to spend the night ignoring the big fat elephant in the room. "What happened to your mask? It looked sexy. It gave me dom vibes." So much for my disguise. That's twenty bucks poorly spent. At least I looked cool.

"I had too many men throwing themselves at my feet begging to be whipped," I joke.

Hannah laughs. What a relief. I'm glad she isn't taking this whole encounter as seriously as I thought she would.

"I always suspected you were the teacher with a secret kinky side," the spoken acknowledgement that I was once responsible for her formal education sends a shiver down my spine. And wait, what? What about me gave my students the impression that I was into this sort of thing?

"So how about this place, huh?" It's probably best to steer the conversation away from myself.

"Oh I love it. It's much nicer than the other clubs I've been to, and a lot closer to home."

Other clubs. So she's a veteran? I really have lived a sheltered life. This little girl is far braver than I was at her age. Kids really are growing up faster now. I'm trying my best to hide my anxiety over this whole situation, but Hannah far more perspicacious than I give her credit for.

"Relax. I'm not going to tattle on you, Mrs. Olsen, if that's what you're all wound up about," Hannah laughed throatily, "besides, we both signed a privacy agreement in that new member contract, right?"

Oh, thank God. As happy as I am to hear that I'm off the hook, it's embarrassing to realize that Hannah read the contract more carefully than I did. It was only a page long and I skimmed the damn thing. Some English teacher I was, blowing basic reading comprehension.

"Although..." Hannah starts.

Fuck.

"Maybe you could help me out. I was supposed to be here with someone else today, but she totally bailed on me. We've been bouncing from club to club together and... putting on shows for people. I like being watched."

She pauses and waits to gauge my reaction. I must be wearing my disappointed teacher face because she briefly looks as though she realizes she's being scolded.

"That sounds pretty thrilling," I say with the most enthusiasm I can muster.

"It is," she smiles, "though it's a bit embarrassing. But that's kinda the point. It makes my heart flutter when I do it, in like, a good and a bad way. Like, the 'bad' feeling is the feeling I want, so I guess 'bad' is the wrong word for it? I don't know. I don't think I'm explaining it too well."

"Actually, I think I understand completely," I explain.

Hannah listens intently as I tell her about about the miniature meltdown I had before walking into the club tonight.

"When I feel like I'm overwhelmed by all the decisions I need to make, sometimes, I'll lean on Oscar to make a choice for me," I feel like I'm giving her a lesson. "Part of me feels bad for losing that control because I'm so used to being in control, but it feels nice to have someone else be responsible for your happiness. It's not a perfect analogy, but I think it's that weird cognitive dissonance that makes it so alluring. You know you shouldn't like it, but you do."

Hannah's eyes are lit up as though she's uncovered some hidden treasure she's been searching for years to find and I can tell how happy she feels to be understood.

"I knew you'd understand!" Hannah chirps. I realize now that it's going to be very difficult to back out of this situation. How can I say no to her happy puppy energy?

She launches into all the plans she has for our evening.

* * *

I don't remember Hannah being so much of a chatterbox when she was my student, but now she seemed to be making up for lost time. She was very persuasive and talked at length about how it was a long held dream of hers to be publicly disciplined. The Parade was her perfect venue: a safe, public space with an entire room full of BDSM equipment. Futhermore, being a "professional at discipline" (her actual words, I had to stifle a laugh when she said it), she thought I was better suited to the task than the girl who never bothered to show up.

What sealed the deal for us was the quid quo pro she offered for the "favor" we'd be doing her. She explained how hard it was for her to find someone who was both trustworthy and willing to fulfill her needs. If we could fill that need for her, she promised return a favor for us.

And so it came to be that my old student was now shackled in a medieval styled pillory before me. This night keeps getting stranger and stranger. Oscar seems to be relishing in the absurdity of it all and I must admit that the kink is alluring. Half a decade couldn't shake the idea that I was doing this to a student. I have to remind myself that she is a consenting adult and none of the strangers watching us will pass judgment — they're here to enjoy a show.

On the small wooden table next to the pillory is an array of various devices designed for the sole purpose of inflicting pain. I like leather, so the cat o' nine tails immediately jumps out to me. I'm not sure exactly how to use one correctly, so I opt instead for the large wooden paddle. It's heavier than I anticipated so I'm sure she'll love it.

I walk around to the side of the pillory where Hannah's cute freckled face and tiny hands poke out. Oscar fitted her with a bright red ball gag even though I suggested that the black one would contrast well against her pale complexion. I can't make out what she says when she sees the massive paddle I'm dangling in front of her face, but it sounds like approval.

Oscar hikes Hannah's skirt down around her ankles and steps her out of it. Underneath, she's wearing a barely noticeable black thong. Her ass cute — tight and white and round. It's almost a shame that we're about to ruin it. I hand Oscar the paddle and kneel down in front of Hannah and lock eyes with her.

"Remember to shake your head if it's too much," I whisper to her.

She nods.

There's quite a crowd gathered around us now. Exactly what Hannah hoped for. I was never into the humiliation kink, and even though I''m standing here as the one about to do the humiliating, I feel a bit self-conscious.

"Ready?" Oscar asks.

She nods.

There's a small shocked look on Hannah's face as Oscar starts gently patting her bare ass. Once he's got a sense for the weight of the paddle, and the firmness of her behind, he drives into her with a firm smack. Hannah winces and a moan tries to break free of the ball gag. I stroke her hair to comfort her. Hopefully she appreciates the juxtaposition between pain and pleasure, heartlessness and love. It feels very poetic, though I'm not sure if it really is.

The gentle patting of the paddle taps throughout the entire room as the crowd watches with silent reverence. Another loud smack causes Hannah and me to jump at the same time. This time, a scream tries to escape, but is again muffled by the gag. I lock eyes with Hannah and search for any sign that she's ready to tap out. She returns my gaze with a determined look in her eyes, challenging the next strike.

When the next slap crashes against her bruised cheeks, a scream explodes and dies in her throat. She dances in place as though her bottom half is trying instinctually to escape from under her. She squirms as though she wants to escape, but she hasn't given me the sign that she's ready to give up. I walk around to the other of the pillory to look at the damage for myself and I am shocked to see that her once porcelain ass matches the bright red ball gag she's currently biting through. Oscar gives her a slight tap and one of her feet reflexively shoots up in the air. Chuckles ripple through the crowd.

I kneel down in front of her and ask her if she's ready for the next part. I hope she says no, because I'm not sure if I'm ready for it myself.

She nods.

I've got to give it to her. She's made of tougher stuff than I am. Not a single tear in her eyes and she's prepared to take things to the next level. I think I might have been bawling at this point, if not from the embarrassment, but the pain from the paddling my husband is inflicting on her.

I slide the harness over my tight black denim. The veiny silicone rod dangling from my crotch is far bigger than anything I'm willing to stick inside me, but this is from Hannah's personal collection, so she must be well acquainted with it. I'm careful not to get any lube on my pants as I lather the head of the shaft and position myself beside Hannah. Oscar lets the paddle fall to the ground with a clatter and slides Hannah's panties down around her ankles before stepping her out of them. They are clearly soaked through.

Her asschecks are on fire as I aim the head of the dildo between her beautifully manicured lips. The light catches the beads dewy moisture on her delicate peach fuzz. As the head of the silicone cock begins to make its entrance, her whole body shudders. I hope the reaction is one of anticipation and not resistance, because there's a whole hell of a lot more before I'm fully inside her.

I motion for Oscar to check on her.

"Do you need to stop?" He loosens the ball gag slightly so she can respond.

"No. Fuck. Keep going," Hannah demands.

Then her mouth is plugged shut again.

Slowly, inch by inch, I push farther and farther into her. About three-quarters of the way inside, her knees begin to buckle and her feet dance in place. I grip her waist to help keep her steady and begin thrusting into her taking care not to thrust too hard so as not to stain my favorite black jeans with any of the Hannah's juices.

My fingers sink into her pillowy skin. She's so delightfully soft. Instinctually, my hand guides itself to her butt, careful not to irritate the glowing red bruises. It's like fresh bread in my hand, warm and tender. Was my skin ever this smooth? A pang of jealously drives my next thrust slightly harder than the last and Hannah yelps. I resist the urge to give her a slap across the ass.

One woman from the crowd starts to walk toward Hannah, but Oscar intercepts her. She says something I can't hear and wiggles her phone in her hand. Oscar kneels down and whispers to Hannah, and a moment later, he nods towards the woman. All the while, I have been hypnotically swinging my hips into Hannah. The woman kneels besides Hannah, lifts her phone, and snaps a selfie with her. For the first time since I stuck this massive cock inside her, I can see her flushed, beet red face. She is completely drenched in sweat.

Some of the male members of the crowd have moved around to my side of the pillory to get a closer look at the action. I pull the length of the cock out to give them an appreciation for the size. It feels like I'm taking part of a literal dick measuring contest, and in that moment, I understand the male ego a bit better. Just as the heavy shaft is about to loll out of her flushed lips, I rush it back into her. She goes up on her toes and a few of the men chuckle.

I have to admit to myself that I feel a sense of delicious power over this girl. Even though I'm not getting any direct sexual gratification out of it, making her squirm in front of all these people fills me with a sense of control that I've never felt. It's a complete contrast to my classroom, instead of bored and disinterested students, I have the full attention of every person in this room. And even though the topic of today's lesson is Hannah's perfect body, she has completely submitted herself to me and I have carte blanche over her.

"Oscar," I call to my husband. He walks to me and I whisper in his ear: "It's your turn."