watched play out and then later been ashamed to have gotten aroused by. I’ve seen a woman beaten with a whip until tears were falling down her cheeks. Her ass bright red from the markings of the whip. But she leaned into it. She begged for more. Her master gave her what he felt she needed and the way he took her after made me desire the same ruthless touch.
I want to feel what she feels. I want to experience it to understand why she desired it as much as she did.
I watch, stalking along the edges of the room, as a naked, dark-haired woman is bound to a bench, the rough rope is coarse and would chafe her skin but her masked master places a thin piece of silk under it. Her lips part in a soft moan and whimper mixed as he binds her so tightly she can barely move. I can see his huge hard cock pressing against his silk slacks. It forces an intense wave of arousal through every part of me.
The Master, or dominant, I’m not sure, is wearing the membership bracelet. Two bands of silver and in the center, red. I shiver at what the bracelet signifies. This dude is into some dark shit. Sadism and Masochism.
I’ve seen this couple before, though I don’t know their names. I don’t know anyone’s real name, actually. It’s funny, I’ve been coming here for a while, and I don’t know anything about anyone. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m here for the experience. And names are rarely used inside Club X.
Another couple is seated on a bench, I’ve seen them before too. The man gives me chills like no other. And not in a good way. His eyes are beady and pure black. His hand gripping his pet’s shoulder, squeezing. He’s always touching her, or pulling her collar. I’ve never seen them interact in anyway other than what they’re currently doing. With her on her knees on the ground, looking straight ahead and him behind her, whispering into her ear.
Her hair is wispy and unkempt, which also makes them stand out. None of the others look like her. They’re taken care of in ways she’s not. Most of the women here are given looks of jealousy from me, I can’t help it. But not her, I can’t help the sympathy I feel for her.
Of all the people here, he’s the only one that doesn’t seem to belong. And because of the way he treats her. The way she doesn’t beg him for more. The way his touch seems to wilt her spirit rather than enhance it.
I rip my eyes away from them, hating that they’re here. I have to ignore them whenever they come. Instead I focus on the couple in the center of the room, the reason most everyone is in this room. The ideal couple. The one that exemplifies what I consider to be the fantasy of this lifestyle.
I watch as he kisses her softly on the lips and places a blindfold over her eyes. There’s a guard to the right of them, watching vigilantly. There’s another one down at the end of the room, also watching the couple and the onlookers like me. These men observe everything and every detail. They see everything. The men in the suits are here to enforce order in case things go too far. They know the safe words ahead of time. Although everything is done discreetly. And some couples don’t use safewords at all.
I was shocked the first time I saw one of these men disrupt a session. I could understand why though, she was screaming for her partner to stop. The very fact that the guard felt the need to step in made me fear for the submissive. The guard merely stepped forward and requested that the submissive give her safe word. The dominant stepped back immediately, lowering the paddle he was using on her, and the submissive gave it, out of breath and still writhing in the binds that held her down. She whispered the word green and then looked to her master, waiting for more. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time a guard had interrupted them.
The man in the suit stepped back and the scene continued. The submissive kept screaming as her master fucked her ruthlessly, using her body mercilessly, fucking her with vicious need and smacking the paddle against her skin as he took her almost like a caveman from primordial