The Surprise

I'd seen her a few times at our local nightclub; I only visited the intimate small town establishment on Thursday nights, when the DJ played rock music, and only when my work rota permitted it. The young brown-haired lady I watched from the raised bar area was present on every occasion I frequented the basement nightspot. But she was out of my league; she exuded confidence and sexuality, dressed to attract attention, and had the erotic power of a porn star. I was a 33-year-old slightly overweight divorcee with the start of a receding hairline.

The first couple of times I saw her, I was just one of another 300 revellers in the nightclub. The time after that, we spoke. I bought her a drink at the bar, and we chatted above the thumping beat of AC/DC and the nostalgic melodies of Green Day.

Then just last week, she teased me; we got a table at the rear of the club, next to the coat check, and beside the bar. The alcohol helped; I always found it difficult to speak to new people, but we conversed easily, and her sex appeal and flirtatious behaviour encouraged me to invest a small chunk of my bonus money in her inebriation. She coquettishly intimated and exaggerated, hiking her short skirt higher when our drinks ran dry, before I staggered to buy replenishments.

Khristyna blew kisses with her soft red lips, and she daintily rubbed the back of my hand as she discussed sex. I'd evaded the subject and had not mentioned my proclivities. My divorce was still raw, and I had found it difficult to find women who had similar perverted kinks in the small Cheshire town. Instead, I imagined the scenes of depravity that the coquettish Lithuanian described as she revealed her fantasies and experiences. However, as my alcohol consumption rose, I shared more of my sexual desires.

She giggled as she saw my expression, adjusted her tight top and suggested we get another round of drinks. Clearly, I was on a promise.

Actually, she had tormented me. The Eastern European immigrant had seduced and then discarded me, kissing me goodbye as she staggered from the nightclub to "go home" to her flat. She promised to text me as she shimmied out of the club, wiggling her bum in her incredibly tight skirt before she ascended the stairs.

For days, she dominated my sex-heavy dreams; I fantasised about running my lips over her naked bosom and parting her legs to explore her wondrous womanhood. Probably waxed or shaved, hairless to not impede my view. Each night, I visualised the ravishment of the cheeky sex bomb, and I woke to a painful erection.

I discussed my predicament with my friend the day before the next nightclub session; the assistant nurse was an accomplished womaniser and had the phone numbers of the shadiest contacts in the small town. "Twenty five quid," he suggested. "It's a drug that loosens inhibitions. She'll be gagging for it. Just slip it into her drink and bone her!"

It sounded unethical and illegal. A medical consultant should not entertain the clandestine application of drugs to a sexual partner, and yet the following day I dressed to visit the nightclub with a small sealed paper packet in my pocket, intending to tip the contents into Khristyna's drink. I knew she'd be there; she messaged me.

That Thursday night, I arrived as the doors opened, bagging the table in the far corner. The dark venue, lit by strobe lighting across the nightclub, left a few of the tables near the coat check in gloomy shadow.

Khristyna bounced over to me, dressed in a shiny black short skirt with a tight bustier and dark stockings. She grinned when she saw me and flounced onto the chair opposite. "Hiya Joe. I've had a crap day."

"Drink?" I asked, and walked to the bar to buy her favoured tipple - a vodka and lemonade. My hands shook as I picked the hi-ball glass; there was no way for me to empty the contents of the paper packet in my pocket without a dozen witnesses seeing it.

As the night wore on, and Khristyna flirted more explicitly and drunkenly with me, my mind whirred as I struggled to find a way of getting the contents of the inch square paper sachet into her drink.

Under the cover of the club darkness, I ripped the top of the sachet in my right hand and gestured towards the stage. "Hey, isn't that guy waving at you?" With one smooth motion, I reached for my beer on the table, emptying the white crystals into her glass.

My heart pounded. There were over 300 potential witnesses to what I had done, but as I waited for the shouts and challenges, no-one uttered a word. "What guy?"

"Oh, he's gone now."

The dark-haired beauty chuckled, and I hurried to the toilet to calm my nerves before returning to the table to buy us both another drink. But the polluted tipple worked; she kissed me, sliding her dainty hands over my navy shirt.

She tasted divine; the harsh bitterness of the lemons on her tongue with the sensual beauty of the Lithuanian kitten. "Let's go," she whispered, nibbling on my ear. I couldn't wait to depart, stumbling into the cool evening with my new sexual conquest. She opened the car door of a parked red vehicle nearby. "Taxi?"

The hooded driver grunted. "Yeah, where to?"

"17 Roseberry Gardens," I replied, scooting in the back seat with the sexual powerhouse. Her hands rubbed my thighs as she pushed her lips onto mine, and the ten-year-old car lurched forwards. She could not stop touching me; I tugged at her tight rubberised corset, exposing her large breasts on her lissom frame to my fingers.

Touching her nipples sent a frisson of excitement to my cock as I rolled the points between my fingers. She pushed her lips onto mine as the car sped along the streets, braking gently at our destination. "We're here," the driver muttered, reaching into my pocket to get my wallet and pay our cabbie.

Hands grabbed my wrists, pulling them away from my body towards the front seat. Two clicks signified she had cuffed me in one smooth motion. Khristyna smirked as she readjusted her corset and picked my wallet from the floor.

"You can't do this," I spat. They had set me up to be mugged, and I looked out of the window; this was not my house, but a desolate industrial estate.

"Doctor Joe Whittall," she read, picking my driving license from the leather wallet. "We need to talk, yes? This is my sister, Silvija."

Our cabbie pulled her hood on her tracksuit and grinned with a hint of menace in her eyes. She looked like an older version of her younger sibling; they had the same shaped nose, the same thin red lips, and both had long chestnut brown hair. "And I saw you put something into Khristyna's drink." I gulped. "In the club. I watch you, and you tried to drug her."

My date sucked in air through her teeth. "Nasty. We should teach him a lesson."

"We could say no more. No harm done. Take all the money from my wallet, and I'm sorry, I'll never do it again." Khristyna laughed. Her seductive chuckles enchanted me in the nightclub, but in the situation, her actions felt sinister.

"No. And any noise, and we ensure you are Doctor Joe Whittall with no balls."

Khrystina chortled. "She's always wanted to castrate a man."

The area looked abandoned in the late autumnal evening. Warehouses, storage units and an Edwardian factory or mill towered over the car, and Silvija jerked opened the passenger door to her faded scarlet hatchback, yanking me to my feet.

"HELP!" I screamed. "HELP ME! HELP! I'M BEING ..." The words echoed around the deserted industrial estate.

As did my cries as Khrystina's black leather boots connected with my crotch, and I fell to the rough gravel, screaming in pain. I'd not experienced torture like it before, and Silvija dragged me through an unlocked door as I bawled in excruciating agony.

I scrambled to my feet as they pushed me up a narrow flight of stairs in the old mill. The elder sister unlocked the first floor door with a key the size of a sausage. It looked magical, and my date shoved me into the dark void as the metal creaked open.

"My sister owns a dungeon," Khristyna explained in the atmospheric half-light, as the door slammed slut, with a loud bang. A strip of red lighting illuminated the small reception room. Silvija put a rucksack on the desk, and pulled out the tumbler I had emptied the contents of the sachet into, sealed in a transparent plastic evidence bag.

"Recognise this, Doctor Joe? I swiped it when you went to the toilet. We emptied most of it onto the carpet so my sister wasn't drugged, but there's enough residue for a forensic examination. So tonight will be an education for you, unless you want a science lab to have a poke about what you've been up to."

Her voice didn't change pitch, but it screamed control. I stared at the glass in the bag as she placed it under the desk and I heard a safe slam shut. My heart pounded, my hands felt clammy. I was out of my depth. I flinched as Khristyna's fingers touched my shoulder, and she whispered into my ear. "Resistance will be futile and will hurt more."

A shiver ran down my spine and she placed a hood over my short hair, pulling it over my eyes and depriving me of sight. She spoke with a gleeful cackle, guiding me into another room. After two dozen steps, she roughly stopped me.

Khristyna tugged my feet apart, and I felt restraints around my ankles. My hands pressed against something wooden as they forced my wrists and arms away from my body, restraining me in an upright spreadeagled position. I knew, even without my sight, that I was on a St. Andrew's Cross.

I could not move my legs or my arms. I struggled against the restraints, as Silvija's footsteps on her dungeon floor came closer. "Oh, he's dressed. That'll not do."

Her hands touched the small of my back, and then I felt cold metal pressed against my skin. Cool air kissed my flesh as she cut my navy shirt from my body. I protested, but the dominatrix ignored my complaints.

The cheap dress trousers, covered in grit and gravel and two sizes too big, were next. She removed the belt, and her scissors sliced through the legs until they were two useless pieces of dark polyester fabric.

I shivered as her hands caressed my cotton-clad rump. "One to go." She spanked my bare buttocks before her blade destroyed my white briefs, leaving me naked in her dungeon. "What do we have here?" Silvija asked. "Is it the bum of a date rapist?"

"No," I squealed. "I never ..."

Her hand smacked against my pasty butt, pressing me against the cold, immobile frame. "I wasn't asking you!" She chuckled as she stepped around my body, holding my dick. "So small too." They cackled as they rubbished my manhood, stiffening from its four-inch flaccid length as she humiliated me.

My heart pounded as the footsteps from the two women echoed in the cold industrial space. Hands caressed my prominently displayed unclothed buttocks, awaiting their next move. I recognised the feel of a wide leather strap when it slapped against my bare flesh. I cried and yelped as each hit landed on my bum. The burn built, landing on reddening skin, to elicit squeals of pain.

With my sight removed, every sensation felt intensified. I yelled when they switched to a wooden cane, swinging the thin, stout rod against the backs of my thighs and highly abused buttocks. Pain coursed through my skin, unlike any torment I had ever experienced. Relentless strikes of the weapon landed on throbbing, tender flesh, ablaze from their abuse.

"It's soundproofed," Silvija whispered. "We're going to make you scream so much!" Those words, suddenly uttered, caused my dick to harden, touching the icy surface of the wooden cross. Vulnerable and defenceless, I was at their mercy, and they were not showing any clemency for my aberrations.

They delivered each smash of the weapon with greater enthusiasm as I tried to zone out of the punishment. My skin throbbed in agony, scalded by the relentless pounding of vicious implements by the sadistic pair. My mind drifted away from the reality of the brutal violence on my defenceless body. No release, no respite, no leniency: they provided a masterclass in cruelty, savaging my restrained buttocks and thighs with their arsenal of torture equipment.

After a hundred strikes, they allowed my body to recuperate for a few minutes; my skin blazed with every touch of their vicious assault. No words spoken as my mind tortured me. Blinded by the hood, I could not see what further torments they had planned as they moved about the dungeon.

The dominant women had a method of moving me. They unfastened my wrists from the frame, and then tied them together, before they unclipped my ankles. Silvija guided me to my new location and retied my ankles to my new restraints before she unfastened and refastened my wrists how she desired.

The flesh on my buttocks blazed as they led me to a bondage bench, putting me on "all fours" and restrained by my ankles and wrists. A hand rubbed my abused rump, causing it to sting. A cold lotion flowed over my crack. I hoped for a soothing balm, to soften and lessen the pain of their punishment. Instead, gloved fingers massaged my whorl, intruding into me.

"Now, Doctor Joe," Silvija said, her voice coming from my right. "We know if Khristyna had gone home with you, you would have been fucking her in the ass. You told her last week that you like anal, so, let's see if you can take it."

"No," I squealed. "Please no. I'm not ..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. But not ... I don't want to."

I knew what was coming; I felt the blunt head of a dildo press against my whorl, parting my muscular ring. "Relax, Doctor Joe."

"But ..."

"Relax," she barked, cackling. "It will hurt more if you don't."

Fingers touched me. Silvija's palm rubbed against my upper back, almost soothing and empathetic. Khristyna's hands gripped my waist to leverage the dildo into me. Highlighting her dominant role and my submissiveness.

My date was preparing to fuck me. Her fingers held onto my body as her hips gently rocked her prick deeper and deeper into me. I could not physically stop her from sodomising me. I could prevent her from buggering me. Millimetre by millimetre, she eased her the head of her dick into my butt, stretching my ring.

Silvija's voice was calmer, soothing and helpful. "Just relax. Deep breaths. It's in. Calm now. Relax."

I mewed as I panted; the discomfort eased as Khristyna slowly pressed the full length of her cock into me. Our thighs touched, and I sighed. The worst was over; I had taken all of her fake rubber prick, stretched as far as I needed to.

"He likes it," Silvija said, still comforting me with gentle strokes of my skin.

"D'ya like being my bitch?" Khristyna adopted a slow, steady rhythm, fucking me and rubbing the head of her cock against my prostate. My dick leaked pre-cum as my attention drifted, swimming in the helpless degradation of my date sodomising me.

Her fingertips dug into my waist, impaling her prick harder and faster into me. "You like my sister's big, fat cock in you?" Silvija asked, whispering into my ear. I mumbled, groaning as my date slammed her thighs against mine, burying her dick into my sanctuary. I shuddered as a wave of ecstasy swept through my body; my knees shook, my muscles trembled, and I groaned. But no cum came. No evidence of my rampant exhilaration, as I dry-orgasmed.

"You know we have to do this because you've been a very naughty boy, Doctor Joe. You need to be punished." I gulped, relaxing my muscles as she justified her non-consensual actions. "We have to teach you a lesson."

Khristyna smacked her open palm against my abused skin as she raped me. Every stroke was a further humiliation and a sensual enjoyment. My ex-wife had pegged me a few times before we split, but Khristyna's actions were stronger with more power and energy. My date really wanted to fuck me, smashing her hips into me to slide her rubber dick against my prostate.

I groaned. "Little bitch here enjoys being fucked in the ass!" She shrieked. "He's a proper slut!" She rammed her dick into me, and then slowed her pace, bringing me to the edge of my climax, before withdrawing. My lust needed Khristyna to continue with her non-consensual sodomy.

But I guessed they had a plan, and once again, the women moved me to a cold metal chair, restraining my wrists and ankles methodically. They restrained me at all times, and I wondered if either of the dominant pair had worked in prisons in the past. There was a logical method to their process.

My heart jumped when they pulled the balaclava from my face, causing me to squint as light flooded into my eyes. Silvija sat in an armchair, directly opposite my restrained body and staring at me, as her sister - my date - walked to sit beside her.

The professional dominatrix held my phone. "What's the PIN Code, Doctor Joe?"

"Why?" I asked

"Wrong answer." She nodded to my date, who rose from her seat, walked behind me and roughly slipped a ball gag into my mouth, forcing apart my jaw. Khristyna jammed a pipe attached to a funnel into the airhole and held up a jug of pale yellow liquid.

"Returning all that drink you bought me," she said, smiling as she drizzled a small dash of the fluid into the duct.

I knew what it was the moment it landed on my tongue. My date had filled my mouth with her pee; the acrid, acerbic nastiness flowed into my throat and I struggled to swallow it. My watery eyes looked at her, and she chuckled, pouring the nasty liquid into the funnel.

There was a two second gap between the stream of piss entering the blue plastic chute and it flowing onto my tongue. My heart raced as she abused me, emptying the liquid into my mouth.

My stomach churned as it dealt with the sudden inflow of her waste. My throat burnt as I swallowed the nasty, acidic filth. And my mind scorched with humiliation. I had never drank pee before. Not even my ex-wife with her dirtiest imagination would have suggested that I do that.

I gasped for air when Khristyna pulled the ball gag free from my mouth, smirking as I desperately panted.

"Now, what is PIN?" Silvija asked in a deep Eastern European accent. She held my phone in one hand and a tube of Deep Heat in the other. "I smear this on your balls and your cock. I have men scream for their mummies when I do that." She passed my phone to my date and slowly unscrewed the lid, making eye contact with me as she did.

"I've always wanted to see that!"

"Seven Two Eight Four Six Zero," I squealed; my eyes watched the tube of emollient, as my date typed in my PIN, giving her access to my most private of devices. "What are you doing with it?"

"Nothing much," Khristyna replied, sitting on her armchair as she navigated through my smartphone. "I check on you."

My heart pounded in my chest as she typed away on my keypad. My buttocks blazed painfully against the cold metal chair as I watched my date scour through my phone. Silvija reached underneath the side table and placed a glass tumbler, into which she poured a small measure of whisky.

"But ..."

"Sssh," the dominatrix interrupted.

Seconds changed to minutes as Khristyna searched through my phone. "Yeah, that looks fine. Some smutty sites but nothing too bad in his Tinder account." She said and looked at me. "We'll do a second date. It's been fun." She put the smartphone on the table and left the room.

Silvija sat in the large armchair, swilling the amber liquid around a tumbler. "Fifteen-year-old Aberlour," she explained, before sipping it. "One of my regulars treats me every month. If I don't like his gift, I cane his balls fifty times. If I do, it's only twenty-five." She chuckled. "It's nice to meet the kinky date of my sister. But before I release you, we need a chat." She placed the drink on the table and stood up, advancing towards me.

Helpless, restrained and exhausted. My perverted fantasy, on steroids, had drained the energy from my body, leaving me spent and lifeless. Yet, the clatter of her boots on the floor drew my attention to the professional dominatrix.