tagFetishXanadu Stories Ch. 01

Xanadu Stories Ch. 01


"In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Xanadu may not be the 'Stately Pleasure Dome' of Kubla Khan's poetic decree but it is probably the best members-only sex club in the world. It is dedicated to the erotic pleasure of its clientele who are universally rich, often beautiful and who share a taste for the erotic and the sexually adventurous. This is what brings them to one of Central London's most up-market areas, through the discrete doors and into the well appointed surroundings in which the club has its home.

The staff of the Xanadu, both male and female, are recruited for their combination of youth, good looks, discretion, customer service and sexual prowess. They are the best of the best. The club eschews the dangerous and the illegal but within those boundaries fosters the free expression of the sexual urge, in all its many and varied forms. These are the stories from the Xanadu...


The Xanadu is famed for its themed parties. They are, for many members the highlight of the club's activities. For three people at least - the Halloween party last year provided a night to remember.

Chapter One - Kate's Story

I shivered slightly as I stepped through the ornate doorway to the main salon of the Xanadu on that chilly October evening. I had already handed the keys of the Merc to the concierge and paid a visit to the ladies so the tingle I felt was one of anticipation rather than the effect of the few seconds of cold in leaving the car for the club. My expectations for the night were very high - the fantasy parties hosted by the Xanadu are, for many members, the highlight of the club's services. They are always well attended; brilliantly organised and generally a good time is had by staff and members alike. I've been a member of the Xanadu for a few years now so I 've been to several parties before but the annual Halloween bash is renowned among the members as being something special so I was looking forward to something special.

Here I am though, getting a bit ahead of my story. Let me start by telling you a little about myself. I'm fairly typical of the members of the Xanadu; affluent, self-reliant and interested in having a good time without strings. I am too busy and having too much fun to be bothered with a serious relationship so the Xanadu suits me perfectly. To be honest I get a real buzz from the knowledge that my membership here is a secret from almost all of the people who know me in my 'normal' life.

As far as age goes I'm in my late twenties. I'm slim and well groomed with a good figure - the result of a good diet and regular sessions in the gym. I don't count myself in the drop-dead- gorgeous bracket but I can still turn heads when I want to.

I first discovered the Xanadu through an ex-boyfriend. Adam and I had been going out for a few months (or mainly "staying-in" as my father was fond of saying in that slightly disapproving way of his). The relationship was good, while it lasted, especially physically. Adam was older than me literally and emotionally and he was an imaginative and unselfish lover. I didn't know at the time that he was a member of the Xanadu. I was only dimly aware of the existence of such places in fact.

My introduction to the club was the result of Adam's proposal that we should go to one of its parties. The suggestion came out of the blue but in a quite matter-of-fact way. I remember the theme vividly; it was a roman orgy. I was pretty reluctant to go at first but he somehow persuaded me and after a shaky start and a glass or two of wine I loosened up to the point at which Adam and I joined in the group sex sessions that developed as the evening progressed. On that occasion I only had sex with Adam, and he with me, but over the weeks I met and grew to like some of the regulars and as my confidence grew, so did my sexual appetite and I became more adventurous.

Eventually, Adam and I parted; it was all very amicable and we're still friends. When he's in town we meet and sometimes we'll even end up in bed together, but its more for old-time's sake than anything else. Anyway, I ended up as a fully paid-up member of the Xanadu and I have made pretty frequent use of its facilities ever since.

One of the things I love about the Xanadu is that it is possible to arrive here unaccompanied without the slightest feeling of discomfort, and I frequently do arrive alone. There will often be people here that I already know and, if not, the staff at the club will make sure I'm well looked after. The night of the Halloween party, as it happens, was one of the times that I chose to come on my own.

I had, of course, taken care to dress the part and my attire was in perfect keeping with the theme of "gothic and horror". The Xanadu is careful to provide its members with guidance on dress and some idea of what to expect for the themed parties but there are always some surprises in store, which all adds to the thrill; but, more of that later. As I walked through the door into the club's outer salon the familiar atmosphere of hedonistic luxury assaulted my senses. The lighting was subdued with the high ceiling shrouded in darkness. Candles burned in wrought-iron holders illuminating the way towards the interior of the club and the rich smell of incense filled my nostrils. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw Peter, one of the hosts in the club, approaching with a welcoming smile. Peter is probably my favourite of the boys (men really) that work here and I wondered if he had been waiting for me specifically. He's tall and athletic without being muscle-bound. He moved with an easy grace towards me as I stood on the threshold.

"On your own tonight madam?" He said.

"That's right Peter," I replied, grateful for his immediate attention. "Free to do as I please tonight." He smiled - his face lighting up, apparently genuinely pleased to see me. Peter has, on occasion, shown me that his athletic build is matched by a fertile imagination and gentle hands. (An unbeatable combination in my experience).

"Would you like to try out the coffin?" He pointed to one of two highly polished wooden casket-style coffins, positioned on either side of the door, each on a sturdy, waist-high stand. They were located so that anyone coming through the door would have to walk past them. Intrigued, I followed his outstretched arm as he ushered me towards the right hand casket. Peter lifted the lid which rested back on large brass hinges. I had never really seen a coffin close up before - certainly not from the inside - but this was obviously a rather special model. It was rectangular in shape - and quite wide - not the traditional "coffin" shape. It was lined in pale pink silk and padded in a voluptuous style on its sides and base. What seemed a bit unusual were the three pairs of velvet lined cuffs attached to the inside of the coffin, black against the pink of the interior. The outside was made from a beautiful and highly polished wood with ornate brass-work - including an engraved brass plaque on the side which simply said "Lady". Looking over at the twin, but slightly larger casket on the other side of the carpeted entrance I saw that its equivalent said "Gentleman".

"What's the idea Peter?" I asked, feeling a little puzzled but guessing that whatever it was - it was likely to be enjoyable.

"Look at the lid," he said. Focusing on the inside of the coffin I had not really looked carefully at the lid which was now standing upright - held open by a polished brass stay. It was also padded and lined with the same silk material but running down the length of the lid was a black strip of elasticated velvet about nine inches wide. The strip ran almost the whole length of the coffin - right down the centre of the lid. I must have looked even more puzzled because Peter smiled and walked to the back of the coffin.

"Watch this," he said and, as I looked-on, his long fingered, well manicured hand appeared through the black band of the lid and waved lightly at me. "Lightproof and more or less soundproof," he laughed gently. "You can't see out and they can't see who is in the coffin. It's all done by touch." "Who are 'they'?" I asked - with dawning realisation and the first feeling of heightened arousal in the pit of my stomach..

"Oh, just people who happen to pass. People passing-by are free to explore the person in the coffin through the lid. They will know whether the person is a man or a woman but nothing else. It can be an extraordinarily sensual experience for both people. The coffin itself is wonderfully comfortable. The base under the silk lining is made from memory foam. The feeling of silk against your skin is exquisite and you can choose to be tied or not - he gestured towards the cuffs. You won't know who is outside or where and for how long they will caress you. There will be some fleeting touches, here and gone, others may stay longer, explore you more deeply, give you pleasure in many ways. You may not even know whether the hands belong to a man or a woman. You are free to choose whether to keep on some, or all, of your clothes; whether and how you wish to be tied and I will be here to make sure that you're safe. You don't need to worry. There is a small alarm button for you to hold. If you press it, I will immediately lift the lid - it will not be locked or fastened in any way". He paused and looked me in the eyes.

"Madam knows that she can trust me."

He finished the sales pitch. Now I was really interested. This was like nothing I had ever experienced. In fact it was some way beyond even one of my fantasies. I thought for a moment - thinking more about the details than whether or not to try out the coffin. I had already made up my mind to give it a go. In fact the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It certainly had the potential to get the evening off to an interesting start.

"OK Peter," I said, " I'm up for it," but I need a drink first. I've only just arrived.

"Of course Madam," Peter smiled, his eyes showed his pleasure. "A glass of champagne will certainly enhance the experience." Peter motioned towards another member of staff who glided over in the way that good waiters seem to have. I took a glass from the proffered tray and took a rather unladylike gulp. The ice-cold liquid filled my mouth and throat with its sharp dry taste and hint of decadence. I looked at Peter over the rim of the glass as I took another, longer, drink. His gaze was steady. He's wondering, I thought, how far I'll go with this. With one more sip from the glass I decided. It had to be all, or nothing.

"Come on then Peter," I said. "I'm going to be naked and bound - but you're only to let people near me that you trust and if I press the bell you get me out of there fast. Alright?"

"Of course Madam, are you happy for both men and women to have access to you?" I thought for a moment, slightly hesitant, then decided.

"Yes please Peter," Then another thought struck me. "I wonder whether I'll be able to tell the men from women by the way they touch me."

"Other people have told me that they could tell," he said with a smile. "Shall I help you to undress?" Without waiting for an answer, Peter stepped back and with a smooth movement drew the floor length black velvet curtains that were suspended from a track running round the coffin. Within the newly created privacy of the curtained chamber Peter looked into my eyes for a few moments, perhaps seeking permission, then, without saying anything, deftly unhooked the clasp that held the black robe (what else?) at my throat and then, in one, fluid movement slid the cloak down and away from my body. No coincidence, I thought , that he made sure that the plush material of the garment brushed fleetingly over my thighs as he whisked it away.

I had, of course, dressed in keeping with the Gothic theme; beneath the full-length cloak I was wearing silk, black and sheer; a front-laced bodice corset with stockings over black high heeled shoes. Peter faced me and I watched with growing arousal as he first unhooked the top of my stockings and then slowly and carefully began to unlace the corset. Starting at the top, he unthreaded the long silken lace and eased the material apart, his fingers brushing my skin as he progressively revealed my body. He was obviously in no hurry to complete my disrobing and lingered over the task, apparently enjoying the gradual, teasing exposure of my top. I watched him take pleasure in his task, sipping the remains of the champagne with growing anticipation.

Eventually, having freed the last tie holding the corset together, he spread the material wide, and slipped it off my shoulders his hands sliding sensuously down my back. I was breathing faster now, aroused by the sensual touch and a little light-headed from the champagne.

I looked down at my body, clad now only in the heels, black stockings and sheer black panties. I have good breasts - although I say so myself. Firm and well shaped with smallish slightly upward pointing nipples which were now hard and super-sensitive from the caress of the silk; as Peter surely intended by the way he had unlaced and removed the corset. Having carefully laid my top on the chair with the cloak, Peter knelt on the floor in front of me and hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties, slid them down over my thighs and to the floor, allowing me to step out of them. Now I was naked apart from my stockings and heels. He looked up into my eyes - his face inches from the small patch of blonde hair that I refuse shave. Peter breathed in deeply as if to savour my sex and lifted myleft foot onto his thigh. Running his hand down my calf to my ankle he undid the small buckle that fastened the strap of my shoe and slipped it off. Then, reaching up and sliding his hands into the top of my stocking he slid the sheer silk down over my leg and off. Massaging my bare foot for a few moments he placed the foot on the floor and repeated the performance with the other leg.

Now completely naked, I watched as Peter rose to his feet. He really is a very good looking man and I realised that undressing me had aroused him too, although he was trying very hard not to show it.

"You are a very beautiful woman," he said, stepping back and looking me up and down with obvious appreciation. "Your body will be a source of great pleasure for you tonight and... " He paused. "I think perhaps for others too."

Saying this, he reached beneath the stand on which the coffin rested and through some cantilever mechanism lowered the coffin to the floor so that I could step easily into it. This was a good thing as I had given very little thought up to that point as to how I would actually get into a coffin which was positioned at waist height. It was clearly designed to allow someone standing to gain access through the lid.

I stepped into the coffin and lay on my back, keeping my legs modestly together. It was beautifully comfortable as Peter had said; carefully padded underneath in a way which aligned with the contours of my back. The padding was shaped so as to raise my buttocks fractionally - tilting my pelvis upwards and thereby (I surmised) allowing easier access to my clitoris and vagina and greater pleasure for me.

"Are you comfortable Madam?" Peter asked, looking down at my naked body as it lay in the coffin. It was now obvious that he was aroused by the act of undressing me and perhaps by my apparent vulnerability. I was feeling very horny myself. My whole body was sensitive to the slightest touch. Even the slight flow of cool air over my erect nipples was exciting.

"Very comfortable Peter," I said. "And very sexy. You make sure you find me someone nice". My voice was hoarse with desire.

"I will do what I can Madam, " He smiled down at me. "Are you ready to be tied?"

I nodded. Peter took the padded wrist strap that was attached to the side of the coffin and wrapped it round my left wrist. The cuff fastened with Velcro and was secure but comfortable. My arm was held against the silken base of coffin with my hand a few inches away from my thigh. Before doing the same with my other hand, Peter handed me a small cylinder with a button.

"If you want to be freed Madam, simply press this button and I will come immediately - within a few seconds. In any case I will release you after an hour or so. You will be ready to try other pleasures and there will perhaps be other guests who would enjoy being in the coffin."

I nodded, holding the 'panic button' as Peter bound my right hand to the side of the coffin. The position of my arms had the effect of stretching the skin over my breasts and stomach slightly as well as providing access to the sides of my body for willing hands; or so I hoped.

With my hands now gently but securely pinioned, Peter moved on to the bonds at the knees. Lifting my right thigh from beneath, he firmly but gently opened my legs and wrapped the velvet cuff just above my knee, binding my leg to the side of the coffin. He walked round the coffin and repeated this performance with the other leg. Moving to my feet next, Peter fastened the cuffs around my ankles so that my feet were apart and fastened securely within the straps.

Lifting my head I looked down at my naked body which was now displayed with all my secrets accessible. Peter looked slowly up and down my body and smiled, apparently with pleasure at his handiwork. Aching with anticipation and desire I lay back as he closed the lid - suddenly hoping that someone would come! What if I lay there for an hour with no stranger's exploration, no probing fingers or caressing touch? A sense of panic suddenly came over me, but reason prevailed, surely Peter would not allow that to happen.

It was cool and quiet in the coffin - there must have been some form of ventilation inside because it must otherwise have become unbearably hot. I relaxed - enjoying the comfort and the anticipation of pleasure to come. Time passed. It was hard to keep track in the silence so I don't know how long I lay there in anticipation before I suddenly heard the slight sound of movement towards the bottom of the coffin and then felt the touch of a hand against my shin. It rested there for a moment or two - perhaps trying to determine the geography of my body. I realised suddenly that there would perhaps not even be any indication of which end of the coffin housed my head and which my feet. The hand moved slowly downwards towards my ankle - gentle and somehow slightly hesitant. A man or a woman? I had no way to tell. The hand stopped when it came to the cuff around my ankle, feeling the material as it wrapped my leg. There was a slight jerk - perhaps of surprise as the person outside realised that I was tied. Perhaps they recoiled - not everyone likes the idea of bondage - or perhaps they were aroused by it. I had no way to know except that after a second or two the hand was withdrawn leaving me slightly peeved. I would make sure I quizzed Peter about this afterwards.

Before I could pursue this line of thought any further the slight rustle from the lid, this time right above my face, told me that someone else had come to try the coffin and this time the nails gave it away. Long and shapely - a woman's nails and a woman's hand, smelling very slightly of a perfume that I recognised. The hand approached gently and found my hair; running fingers through it, caressing my face and brushing my lips - getting her bearings perhaps. I found myself kissing the fingers as they brushed my lips. They paused as I gently sucked - holding one finger there. When I stopped after a second or two, the hand moved downwards tracing the curve of my chin and neck and downwards onto my chest. Now my pleasure giver used her nails to good effect, drawing them across my skin down between my breasts towards my belly and the aching womanhood below. My skin fluttered involuntarily as she first drew her nails and then her whole hand across my belly. Moving upwards, the hand cupped one breast and then the other - circling my areaolas with her fingetr tips and gently teasing my nipples between thumb and forefinger. I heard myself moan with pleasure. Arching my back slightly against the bonds, I willed the pleasure giver to carry on.

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