Goth Girl by Jennifer Harrison

Goth Girl
by Jennifer Harrison

"Hey, Fifi, fancy getting with a real man tonight?" Doug smirked, getting close enough to invade her personal space, "you look like you could do with a good, hard fuck!" His little group of acolytes sniggered at this. The young girl looked around at him, their faces almost close enough to kiss.
"Gee, Doug, not right now," Fionna said with a sour smile on her face, "but if I do, I'll be sure to call on you - not!" Coolly, she turned and started to walk away.
"The little tart must be gay to turn you down, Doug!" she heard one of the gang say behind her.
"Nah, I don't think the lessies would want her either," Doug replied, and the small group dissolved into fits of laughter.
Fionna walked on, knowing that there was no point in continuing the exchange. Besides, if she stopped now, she would probably punch him right in the face, and that would only attract more abuse, either verbal or physical. All those smug, self-centred, self-regarding boys hated her, but that was okay, the feeling was mutual.
The ridiculous thing was that it was all based on her looks. She was a Goth girl - she dressed in black, today it was a short black woollen dress, black velvet choker, black lace fingerless gloves, black over-the-knee socks, black Doc Marten boots. Her face was devoid of make-up, but that was only because the college objected, and would make her life difficult if she wore heavy black mascara and black lipstick.
She had first become a Goth in her early teens, as a protest against her parents treating her like some kind of princess. They had given her the ridiculously twee name of 'Fionna', and her mother had insisted on dressing her in pink, sending her to ballet lessons, and making every birthday party until she was nine a Fairy party. She had rebelled as early as she could, much to their horror and dismay. Their relationship became very confrontational, with most days including at least one blazing row, either about the way she dressed or the way she talked back, never behaving like the sweet, adorable, pliant daughter they had always dreamed of having.
It had made things difficult at school, as all the teachers and staff disapproved of her looks and her attitude. She didn't have any friends either because, in her opinion, they were all too conventional, too straitlaced – too 'ordinary' to understand someone as different as her.
She had thought it would be okay when she went to college. Maybe she had chosen badly but, for whatever reason, the students were either scared of her or hated her, all because she was different. Just as at school, she had no friends, either male or female.
It was depressing, but she was determined to stick it out and complete her degree. She refused to give in and allow her parents the opportunity to say 'I told you so'. So she ignored the barbed comments, the whispers behind her back, and the looks of disgust and contempt, whether hidden or openly displayed, and got on with her life.
The problem was her life consisted of studying and her part-time job as a checkout girl, but very little else. Every so often, when she got up the courage, she would go out to a bar or club. But it was hard work on your own, and it was always a bit scary. She had hooked up with guys a few times, but it had never amounted to anything more than a one-night stand. She didn't know what she was looking for in a relationship, but it was certainly more than just 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am'.
She made her way back to her dormitory block at the end of another week, the vast, lonely expanse of a weekend with nothing to do except work stretching before her. She was just about to go up the stairs to her room when she noticed that there was a piece of paper in her pigeonhole. She realised that it was only a flyer but grabbed it anyway, thankful for any communication from another human being, even if it was only junk mail. She was surprised to notice that none of the other mail slots seemed to have a flyer in them. Maybe everyone else had already got theirs and thrown it away, she thought, and headed up.
Fionna flopped back onto her bed and closed her eyes, letting the stresses of the day slowly dissipate as she listened to the chill-out music filling her room. She dozed a little bit, before finally propping herself up on one elbow and thinking about what she was going to do that evening. All she could think of was cooking herself some pasta, washing her hair, and maybe watching a movie on the Internet. 'What an exciting, fun-filled life I lead,' she thought sarcastically. She saw the flyer on the bed beside her and, for want of anything better to do, picked it up and read through it.
It was for a place called, rather exotically, The Marquis' Enclave, which sounded like some kind of elaborate in-joke, and had the strapline The Hottest Nightspot in the City!
The thin glossy card had been folded in half and Fionna, turning it over to see what was at the bottom, read Open: 10:30 PM - 6 AM. Entry fee: £50
'Well', she thought, 'that must be some high-class club but, at £50 a pop, it's well out of my league.' She was about to toss it into the trash can when a slip of paper fell out from inside.
'Special Offer Tonite Only: Goth Girls Go Free! Just come suitably dressed and use the password 'I'm a sub'. Excitement Guaranteed!'
She didn't really understand the flyer as it didn't give her any idea what kind of club it was advertising. But, she reasoned, it was expensive and therefore probably exclusive, and she had an opportunity to get in for free. She certainly had nothing better to do, so why not give it a go? It would be something out of the ordinary, at least, and she reckoned that if you never try, you'll never succeed. It could turn out to be an epic fail, another embarrassing strike-out, but what the hell, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Her mind made up, Fionna smiled to herself and began to get ready.
She showered and shaved her legs and crotch, making sure she was perfectly smooth, which was the way she liked it. Her hair was parted in the middle and fell to her shoulders, with bangs which hung down into her eyes, but she hated the fact that it was mousy brown rather than jet black, as was almost de rigueur for Goths. She couldn't afford a decent dye job, and she didn't want to make a mess of it herself, so it was just one more thing she had to live with until she got a decent job or won the lottery.
She dressed in her favourite, and finest, Goth clothes. She started with her best pair of lacy black panties, which always made her feel special when she put them on, knowing that they were her 'scoring' knickers, the ones she didn't mind being seen in when she was otherwise naked. The top she had chosen was tight, with spaghetti straps over the shoulders, so it was not possible to wear a bra underneath without ruining the effect. Her breasts weren't particularly large, so there was no problem from a support perspective, but she did have quite prominent nipples, which stood out quite clearly under the clingy material. It wasn't a problem though, she liked the rather slutty look, it made her feel dangerous and sexy. The top was short enough to leave her belly button exposed, which meant she could show off her piercing, a little treat she had given herself after a particularly intense row with her parents. She added some classic fingerless gloves, these ones see-through with a fishnet pattern, stretching all the way up to her armpits.
The skirt she wore was short, black and shiny, being made of a plasticky material. The hemline was so high that it barely covered her panties, fanning out over her hips but leaving her thighs fully exposed. She had a pair of hold-up stockings, which she had customised by laddering and ripping holes in. She completed the lower half of her outfit with a pair of boots which laced up to just below her knee and had inch-high crêpe soles and chunky, block three-inch heels.
She did her make-up next, which was comprised of long false eyelashes, thick eyeliner, dark grey eyeshadow, and black lipstick. Now all she needed to do was choose her accessories.
She had bought a dog collar a while back, with metal studs through the thick black leather, and she put it on, making sure the dog tag was at the front. The tag had the word 'Chaindoll' on it and, to reinforce her chosen Goth name, she had short lengths of small-gauge chain, which she padlocked around her wrists and ankles, making it look as if she had burst her metal restraints. She checked herself out in the mirror, and liked what she saw. She looked hot, dramatic and sexy - people weren't going to be able to ignore her tonight!
Fionna became rather more nervous as she stepped out of the cab and looked around. She was definitely in the seedy side of town, the street strewn with litter and many of the shops boarded up and closed down, others were locked behind steel shutters. The club entrance didn't look too impressive either; it's bizarre name, The Marquis' Enclave, on a neon sign above a blank brick wall with just an unmarked door breaking the facade.
She hurried over to the door, eager to distance herself from the few, rather unsavoury-looking men on the street. She entered an anteroom, with walls, ceiling and floor all painted black, the only thing of note a single light hanging over a desk, behind which stood a mountain of a man, apparently fulfilling the roles of receptionist and doorman, as well as bouncer. He eyed her suspiciously, as she appeared frightened and uncertain of herself.
"Can I help you?" he said gruffly, as if he suspected she had come in by mistake. Fionna tried to calm herself and project the necessary air of confidence one needed when blagging your way into a club.
"Er, yes, I want to go in," she smiled, putting her hands on the counter and leaning in, in an attempt to show that she wasn't intimidated by him. He looked her up and down skeptically, and she wondered if he was going to ID her.
"$50… please," he responded, the last word merely a formality, or perhaps an afterthought - he didn't look like customer service was a high priority for him.
"But I'm a sub," she said firmly, "I understood that entry would be free for someone like me?"
"You're a sub? Really?" the disbelief in his voice palpable, but then he shrugged. "Okay, I guess, whatever. I need to stamp you." He picked up a rubber stamp and brought it towards her. He was looking at her hands and arms, but they were covered by the fishnet gloves.
"You want it on your forehead or your chest?" he growled, as if she was causing him a great inconvenience. After a moment's thought, she pointed to her chest, and he pressed the rubber against her bare skin. She looked down and saw a thick, black 'S' in a circle on her sternum.
"Okay, through that door," the big man said, pointing across the foyer. Rather grateful to be getting away from him, Fionna went over to the door and, after a moment to gather herself and ensure that she was walking tall, with a blank 'I don't care' expression on her face, pushed it open, walking in.
The room was dark, with individual recessed ceiling lights illuminating a number of tables and booths. It was also smoky, which surprised her, given that smoking inside was banned everywhere. The persistent beat of the music playing was so loud that it reverberated through her. So far, so standard club. But then, through the gloom, she started to make out the clientele, and that really shocked her.
Everyone she could see seemed to be either dressed in something tight and shiny - leather, rubber, or something else - or was dressed in virtually nothing - topless men, men in posing pouches, women in tiny micro-skirts, or even bikinis. For once in her life feeling rather sedately dressed, Fionna spotted the bar and made her way over to it.
She sat down rather shakily on a bar stool and sipped the drink she had ordered, the price of which had reinforced just how far out of her league, and price bracket she was. She glanced around the room again, amazed at the incredibly sexy costumes. The only explanation which came to mind was that she had somehow crashed a fancy dress party. She wondered why on earth they had let her, in her comparatively frumpy outfit, in for free? She decided that she would just sit here and linger over her drink - she certainly couldn't afford a second - and watch this incredible parade.
"Hi there, cutey," she heard a female voice behind her say. She turned to look down the bar, and her mouth fell open in shock. Standing beside her was the most incredibly beautiful Asian girl - Fionna immediately thought 'girl', although the woman was clearly older than her - she had ever seen, in the most amazing dress she has ever seen.
The dress was floor-length and red, although those were its most unremarkable features. The most striking thing was that it was made of latex - not a material Fionna was very familiar with, but she recognised it. It clung tightly to the curvy figure of the surprisingly tall woman, showing off her body in the most alluring way. It was sleeveless with a high collar, and was split from the top of the collar to the bottom of her rib cage, the two sides of the material laced together, leaving her ample cleavage on display. The dress was also split to mid-thigh, revealing a shapely leg and four-inch heel sandal.
The woman's face was clear, with its oriental features and high cheekbones. Her short, black hair was pulled back and held in a clip, flaring out stylishly behind her head in an almost-ponytail. She smiled warmly and confidently at the Goth girl who, belatedly, closed her mouth before she started drooling.
"H-Hi," she managed to stutter eventually.
"You ready?" the Asian woman said, holding out her hand to take Fionna 's.
"I-I'm sorry, ready for what?" Fionna asked, rather flustered and completely confused. The other woman gave her a quizzical look, then her face cleared as understanding dawned.
"First time here?" she asked and, when Fionna nodded, continued, "okay, I think you'd better come and sit while I explain." She walked away across the room and, after a few moments, Fionna picked up her drink and followed her to a relatively quiet booth.
"So this," the woman said, pressing a long, elegant, perfectly manicured finger against the black S on Fionna 's chest, "says you are a sub. Do you know what a sub is?"
"Er, no, not really," Fionna replied nervously, feeling like a schoolgirl who hasn't done her homework.
"Do you know what sort of a club this is?" the Asian girl asked, looking like she was having to suppress her mirth at this young girl's naivety, especially when she shook her head, looking like a scared child.
"Okay," she continued, "let me try to explain without freaking you out. Have you heard of BDSM?"
"BDSM?!" Fionna squeaked, a look of alarm on her face, "isn't that bondage and stuff?!"
"Yes, that's what the 'B' stands for," the woman replied, "the 'D' stands for Discipline and Domination, the 'S' for submission. It also stands for Sadism and the 'M' for Masochism, but we won't worry about that at the moment, as you're a novice. You've come into a BDSM club and, presumably to get free entry, you said that you're a submissive. That means that you have to do whatever a Dominant demands of you, otherwise you'll be in serious trouble with the management for trying to defraud them."
Fionna 's face had turned pale at the shock of this information. "Oh my God, I didn't realise!" she said, her voice shaking, "I'd better leave!"
"I wouldn't if I were you," the other woman responded, "you saw Garth on the door? It's his job to deal with gatecrashers, and I don't think you want to see him in a bad mood!" The look on the Asian woman's face convinced Fionna that she certainly didn't want that mountain of muscle dealing with her.
"What should I do?" she wailed, looking around the room frantically for some way to escape.
"Calm down, honey," the woman replied, once more smiling reassuringly, "let's just sit here and have a quiet drink. If Garth tries to give you a problem, I can always say you were perfectly submissive to me. I'm a Dominant, and a club member, so he'll believe me. What's your name?" She took a sip of her drink, sitting back, trying by her actions to reassure the young girl that everything was normal.
"I'm F-" Fionna just managed to stop herself giving her hated name. "They call me Chaindoll."
"Really? Chaindoll? How appropriate. I hope you live up to that name. I'm Tina. You can call me Miss Tina, Miss or Mistress, whichever you feel more comfortable with."
Fionna noted that the option to call her just 'Tina' was not offered. Her head was spinning a little at this strange turn of events but, much to her surprise, she quite liked the idea that this stunningly beautiful woman was in charge. She gave a hesitant smile, wondering what would happen next.
"So, all this means that I can do whatever I want with you," Tina went on in a calm but firm tone, "and this is something I've wanted to do since I first saw you at the bar." She leaned forward and, putting her hand behind Fionna 's head, gently pulled her forward into a kiss.
Fionna had never kissed a woman before, at least not one she wasn't related to, and she found it an exhilarating experience. The Asian woman's lips were so soft, her breath so fresh, the scent of her perfume so intoxicating, she couldn't resist as she felt the tongue working its way between her teeth and into her mouth. She turned her head to one side, taking the more submissive role in the kiss, and opened her mouth wider to allow full access.
Tina recognised the move and, smiling inside, took advantage. She pressed harder with her lips, delved deeper with her tongue, and gripped the hair at the nape of Fionna 's neck, preventing her from moving back. Her hand slipped between the girl's warm thighs, pushing them apart when they reflexively closed, working her way up until she reached the smooth material of her panties. As if a button had been pressed, the legs opened again, once more providing an open invitation. She certainly wasn't going to turn it down.
She rubbed the girl's crotch through the thin garment and, pretty soon, was rewarded with the sound of mewling as the sub's excitement began to grow. Tina kept this up until Fionna was squirming under her touch, her breath snorting from her nostrils. Then, knowing she had the girl just where she wanted her, she stopped, disengaging from the kiss and removing her hand.
"Did you enjoy that, Chaindoll?" she asked archly, confident of the answer.
"Yes… Miss," Fionna whispered, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
"Good," Tina smiled, "now you know how much fun it can be to submit to me. So, just turn away from me." Fionna looked at her in confusion but, after a few moments hesitation, did as she was told and turned her back.
She felt Tina's hands on her shoulders, then moving down her arms, very gently, but very definitely, pulling them behind her until her hands were touching behind her back. The gentle touch withdrew, but she didn't dare move from the position she had been placed in. Now she felt something against her wrists, winding around, pulling them closer, binding them. She felt scared, but also excited, as the rope now holding her was cinched tight. Tina put her hands on the girl's shoulders again and turned her back to face her.
"Your first time in bondage, I'm guessing?" she asked rhetorically, not requiring an answer, "I do so enjoy taking a girl's virginity - in the bondage sense, that is."
She slowly pushed the spaghetti straps of Fionna 's top off her shoulders and pulled them down her arms, gradually baring her breasts, all the while staring into the girl's frightened blue eyes. When the garment was reduced to just a roll of material around her waist, Tina cupped her sub's breasts and stroked the prominent nipples with her thumbs, feeling them stiffen. Fionna just sat there, frozen in place, unable to do anything but enjoy the sensations surging through her.
"Very nice," Tina said, then leaned forward and spent several minutes sucking each nipple as she fondled the surrounding mammaries. Fionna began to squirm in her seat, breathing more heavily and biting her bottom lip in response to the delightful attention she was receiving.
"Okay, come round here," Tina commanded, leaning back and watching as Fionna stood up and walked around the table to take up the indicated position.
"Kneel." The tone of voice was calm and pleasant, but irresistible. Fionna found herself sinking to her knees without really thinking what she was doing, it just seemed like the only thing she could do. Tina smiled at her and, uncertainly, she smiled back. The Asian woman looked away and raised her hand to attract the waiter's attention.
"Hi, could I get a refill on my wine, please," she said when he stood before her, not glancing at Fionna , "and could you bring me a pair of No.2 butterflies, a 3 inch ball harness, and a dog leash - a chain one?"
"Certainly, Miss," he replied, "I'll be right back." As he walked away, Fionna looked up in alarm at the woman sitting beside her. She wasn't sure what had been requested, but she certainly knew what a 'dog leash' was! Given that she was currently wearing a dog collar, she was pretty sure it was going to be used on her. Maybe those other things, the ones she didn't understand, were also for use on her? Her feelings of uncertainty and nervousness surged again, accompanied by a growing excitement.
The waiter wasn't away long. He placed the wine, the dog leash, and the other things on the table and left. Tina took a leisurely drink from her glass, savouring it, allowing the sub before her to become even more nervous. Eventually she picked up the butterfly clamps and adjusted them to a very mild setting, before leaning forward and bringing them towards the Goth girl's nipples.
Fionna 's eyes widened in alarm as she saw what was going to happen but could do nothing to prevent. As the metal jaws with their rubber coating closed on her sensitive buds, she grimaced and steeled herself against the pain. To her surprise, they didn't bite into her, feeling more like someone was squeezing her nipples between thumb and forefinger - uncomfortable but not particularly painful. As Tina let them go, they both watched the weight of the thin chain between the clamps pull her nipples slightly downwards. Fionna seemed mesmerised by the chain as it swung back and forth between her breasts.
When she looked up again, she saw that Tina had picked up what looked like a ball gag, but with extra leather straps.
"Open for me," came the command and, to her own mild bafflement, Fionna meekly parted her lips, opening her mouth wide.
The ball was pushed between her teeth and the restraining strap buckled behind her head. She felt one of the straps going under her chin, while two more were pulled up across her cheeks, obscuring her sight slightly as they met at a ring against her forehead. A single strap went over her scalp and was buckled to the harness behind. She felt all the buckles being re-tightened, ensuring there was no slack to allow a finger to be inserted between strap and skin.
Fionna tried to come to terms with the head harness and the ball in her mouth, which prevented her from closing her lips or comfortably positioning her tongue. She wondered if she had made a huge mistake, allowing herself to be tied and gagged like this, but she knew there was nothing she could do now, she would just have to live with the consequences.
"You're doing very well, Chaindoll," Tina smiled as she clipped the leash to the collar around the girl's neck, then ruffled her hair. "Good girl. Good pet."
As someone who bridled at her own given name, it was astonishing that Fionna didn't feel hatred for the woman who had just called her 'pet'. Rather, she felt happy that she had pleased her Mistress. This feeling, along with the realisation that she had just thought of the Asian woman she had only met half an hour before as 'Mistress', left her completely confused and wondering exactly what was going on inside her head. 'Perhaps it's being driven by what's happening in my body,' she thought, recognising the goosebumps on her skin and the tingling itch in her crotch as tell-tale signs that she was extremely aroused.
"Tina! It's been such a long time! How're you doing?!" Fionna looked up sharply to see a woman in an elegant black dress, stockings, and high heels, with straight blonde hair halfway down her back, standing by the table and smiling at her Mistress. But what took her attention was the man standing next to her, because he was completely naked.
Naked, that is, apart from the leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and the leather hood which covered his face and head, with openings only for his eyes and mouth. Fionna was alarmed to see that there was a chain wrapped around the base of his cock and balls, the loose end hanging down to his knees. He also wore a collar rather like her own, and he was also leashed, with the woman holding the other end.
"Olivia!" Tina responded excitedly, standing up and giving the woman a hug, "I'm good! I see you and Mark are still together. Have you made an honest man of him yet?!"
"Nah," Olivia smiled, "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, as they say. And I do treat him very mean!" As she said this, she caught the end of the chain around his penis and testicles, giving it a sharp tug which elicited a cry of pain from the poor man. To Fionna 's surprise, he didn't grab at the chain or his wedding tackle, and didn't strike the woman either. He just stood there and took it.
"Don't!" Tina cried out, her hands flying to her mouth, "you'll castrate him!"
"Don't be such a wuss, Tina!" Olivia sneered, "you love it, don't you, Mark?"
"Yes, Mistress," he replied, hanging his head, "my pain is your pleasure."
"Damn right!" the woman laughed, then walked over to Fionna . "This is a pretty little thing! Is it new?"
"I only just met her," Tina replied, "I'm just introducing her to the joys of BDSM."
"Well, don't be too gentle," her friend responded, "spare the rod, spoil the child." As she said this, she hooked her finger around the chain between Fionna 's nipples and slowly pulled it up and away from her. To the kneeling girl's dismay, the design of the clamps meant that, as she pulled the chain tight, the clamps closed, pinching more harshly to ensure they didn't come off.
Gradually, her nipples were stretched out, and then her breasts started to be lifted upwards and outwards as Olivia brought her hand away from the girl's body. As the clamps tightened, discomfort began to change to pain, and Fionna let out a rather desperate moan, surprised to hear how muffled it was by the gag. The reaction merely encouraged Olivia to go further, pull a little harder.
"Okay, you've made your point," Tina intervened, although making no move to try to stop her, "treat your own sub mean, not mine."
"Sure, no problem," the blonde said, letting go of the chain, which allowed Fionna 's breasts to return to their natural position, "but she's pretty tough, this one. I was actually pulling quite hard, and she barely made a squeak. I think you might have found a winner there. Why don't you bring her to the playroom with us and put her through her paces?"
"Sounds good," the Asian woman replied, "I was just heading that way anyway." She took up the leather hand strap at the end of the dog leash and gave it a flick, which Fionna took to be the command to stand up. She did so, and then followed her mistress, walking alongside Mark.
As they walked to the back of the room, Fionna stared at the people sitting at the tables they passed. There were all kinds of couples - men with submissive women, women with submissive men, men with other men, women with women - as well as a few groups - one dominant with several subs, several Doms with one sub, and so on. There was a mind-boggling array of clothes, colours and styles, with leather, PVC and rubber much in evidence, alongside normal street clothes, although these seemed to be worn exclusively by the Doms. There was also an awful lot of flesh on view, from partial nudity, to topless, to completely naked.
"Hey you! Eyes front!" Olivia hissed at her, "stop rubbernecking like a sex tourist! You should be concentrating on your mistress, ready to obey her commands." Chastened, Fionna followed submissively behind Tina, not daring to look to either side.
At the far wall they came to an opening into a large space, filled with BDSM tools and furniture, which raised Fionna 's alarm level even higher. She didn't understand most of it, but it was clear from the racks of punishment devices and bondage equipment that this was a place of pain.
"I think I'll take Mark over for a flogging," Olivia said, matter-of-factly, "you two have fun!" Fionna watched as she led the naked man away, but then felt a tug on the leash and turned away.
They approached something that looked like a vaulting horse, and Tina made her bend over it.
"Now, Chaindoll, for your first taste of Discipline," she said, bringing a frightened whine from the prone Goth, "don't worry, we'll start off easy." Fionna didn't find anything reassuring about the comment - she didn't want to be disciplined at all.
She felt her skirt being flicked up onto her back and then, with growing concern, her knickers being eased down her thighs. Tina placed one hand on the middle of the girl's back and drew her other arm back. She brought the flat palm of her hand down hard against the pert, round buttocks, making the flesh quiver, and bringing a muffled cry. Slowly and deliberately, she raised her arm and slapped the girl again, pressing down on her back to prevent her from rising up off the spanking stool. She hit Fiona a third time, noting with satisfaction that her cheeks were starting to turn a little rosy.
As Fionna 's protests became more urgent, Tina slipped her fingers between the agitated girl's thighs and parted her labia, working them into her moistening vagina. The cries of protest turned to moans.
"You like that, pet?" Tina asked as she worked her fingers, feeling the heat and moisture grow, "one of the most amazing things about BDSM is the way pain and pleasure can complement each other." As she said this, she pulled her hand away and slapped Fionna hard again, before returning her fingers to their previous task.
This alternation of slap and tickle continued until Fionna was red in the face and highly aroused. The sensations were, as Tina had said, amazing. Somehow, the painful slaps seemed to amplify the pleasure of the manipulation to which she was being subjected. Tina sought out and rubbed her engorged clitoris, lubricating it with Fionna 's own juices as she did so, ramping up the stimulation dramatically. The young girl was taken by surprise when she felt something pushing between her buttocks, and then Tina's thumb forcing its way through her anal sphincter to massage her there as well. After each blow delivered to her rump, she eagerly awaited what would follow and, as she was being fingered, the knowledge that she would soon be struck again ceased to worry her - she knew it was just the next step in this exciting journey.
At last, the journey reached its inevitable destination. Fionna 's muffled cries, arched back and suddenly tensed muscles signalled the arrival of her orgasm, one of the most intense of her short life so far. The event was confirmed by the sudden flood of vaginal juices wetting her thighs and squirting into Tina's hand.
Tina pulled Fiona's panties back up, helped the girl straighten up, and led her across the room to a chair, where she sat down before pulling her sub down to her knees in front of her.
"And now it's your turn, pet," Tina said. She leaned forward and unfastened the head harness, easing the ball out of Fionna 's mouth and tossing the whole thing into a nearby bin labelled 'Used Items For Cleaning'. She then sat back and, spreading her legs wide, pulled the split skirt of her dress out of the way, revealing her naked crotch.
Fionna knew what she was being asked, or rather commanded, to do. She had never even thought about having any kind of relationship with another woman, let alone a sexual one. Even though the woman before her was extremely attractive, she hadn't suddenly turned into a lesbian. Yet she found herself with a burning desire to please her, to satisfy her. She realised that this was an incredibly submissive reaction, and she wondered whether she had always been like this, or whether she was just caught up in the evening's events. She dismissed these confusing thoughts, deciding to worry about such details later, determined for now to just follow her instincts, and she leaned forward.
She pushed her head between the Asian woman's thighs and underneath her skirt until her nose was pressed against the curled hairs on her mound. The smell of sex was overpowering in that dark, enclosed space, and she reached out tentatively with her tongue, seeking out the hot, intimate area from which juices were already leaking. Tina gave a satisfied sigh as she felt the contact, and she slid down in the seat a little, spreading her thighs a little wider and pushing herself into the girl's face.
Fionna set about her task with extreme enthusiasm.
"Hey, hey, take it easy, pet!" Tina cried out, pushing back on the girl's head, "this isn't some fast food all-you-can-eat buffet! It's a gourmet meal to be savoured and enjoyed at a leisurely pace. Let's try that again, but with a little more finesse. Once more, with feeling!"
Chastened, Fionna tentatively licked and slurped at the moist cunt before her.
"Mmm, that's better," the Asian woman purred about ten minutes later, "just keep that up. I'll let you know when you can stop." Rather surprised that she hadn't brought the woman close to orgasm yet, Fionna continued to work away, her face gradually becoming covered in the fluid oozing from the hot, wet orifice against which it was firmly pressed.
It seemed like she had been at it for hours. She had heard Tina order herself another drink, and also heard her talking to her friend Olivia, who had slapped Fionna on the buttocks as she went by. As for Fionna herself, she was tired and the muscles at the base of her tongue were aching badly. She desperately hoped this would come to an end soon.
"Okay, pet," she eventually heard from above her, "you can finish me off now." This command came as sweet relief, and she redoubled her efforts, pushing her tongue as deep as she could into Tina's vagina, thrusting her head backwards and forwards to 'fuck' her, ignoring the pain she was feeling. She rapidly switched her attention to the woman's clitoris, sucking on it urgently, stimulating it with her tongue until she could hear the gasps and whimpers which confirmed that she was having the desired effect.
She knew she had achieved her goal when the thighs on either side of her head tried to shut, clamping over her ears, and clawing fingers grabbed her hair reflexively. She heard an anguished cry, somewhat muffled but loud enough, before she felt the spasm pass and the body before her relax. She was pulled up off the floor until her lips met Tina's, and she found herself being kissed deeply and passionately.
"That was very good, pet," Tina smiled, "let's go get a drink - I bet you could do with one after all that!" She helped Fionna up off her knees and led her at the end of the leash back to the bar.
"Can I have a glass of Shiraz and a bowl of water, please," she said to the barman, confusing Fionna . 'A bowl of water? Is that for me?' she thought. 'Is she treating me as her pet, as well as calling me pet?'
It looked like her suspicion was correct, as the Asian put the bowl on the floor and ordered her down on her knees. This was humiliating, especially in front of the other drinkers, who gave her amused looks. But the fact was that she was extremely thirsty and, after a few moments hesitation, she bent down and lapped at the cool, clear water. At least, that was what she told herself. She wasn't really sure if she needed the drink as much as she enjoyed the feeling of submitting to her mistress.
"Hi there, Tina, how you doing?" Fionna looked up at the sound of a male voice and saw, standing above her, an attractive man, probably in his early thirties and dressed in black jeans and shirt, looking rather cool.
"Hey Steve, I'm good!" Tina said warmly, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Who's this pretty little thing?" he asked, looking down at Fionna , who blushed bright crimson in embarrassment at how she must look, on her knees with her breasts exposed and her hands tied behind her back. But she was also responding to the fact that he had called her 'pretty'.
"This is Chaindoll," Tina replied, "I'm just introducing her to the pleasures of BDSM."
"Excellent," Steve responded, "do you mind if I…?"
"Not at all, honey," the Asian woman said, "I was just going to call it a night anyway. Feel free to play with her, it'll be good to broaden her experience." Fionna looked at her aghast, wondering what was going on.
"But, Miss, I thought…" she sputtered in shock. Tina bent down and stroked her cheek.
"Don't worry, pet," she smiled, "Steve's a really nice guy, you'll get on well. Anyway, I must go, maybe I'll see you another evening."
She straightened up and, after giving Steve another kiss, walked towards the exit without a backward glance. Fionna watched her leave; impotently, hoping forlornly that the latex-clad beauty might change her mind and come back to rescue her. But the door closed behind her with a sense of finality. Fearfully, Fionna looked up into the inscrutable face of the man who, she realised with a thrill of fear, uncertainty, and excitement, was now in control of her.
"Come on then, Chaindoll," he said, taking up the leash and pulling her to her feet, "let's see what kind of mischief we can get you into."
With her mind in a turmoil of emotions, Fionna followed meekly as he led her back to the playroom.
Fionna was feeling extremely nervous as they entered the playroom, but she was pleasantly surprised when Steve untied her hands. She rubbed her wrists, staring at them, mesmerised by the marks the ropes had left on her skin.
"You can take off those nipple clamps as well if you like," he said as he went over to one of the equipment racks, "they're not doing a lot for me."
"Thank you, Sir," Fionna replied with relief, easing the metal clips off. Moments later, she screwed up her face and tried to breathe through the pain as the blood flowed back into the pinched flesh, sending urgent alarm signals shooting from the reawakened nerve endings. She covered her nipples with her hands, trying to nurse them back to health, but she found that all she could do was just endure it as she waited for the pain to pass.
"Now take off your clothes," he said evenly.
"What?! No! Please, I don't want to!" Fionna protested. Without changing his calm expression, Steve signalled to one of the waitresses to come over.
"Would you take her clothes to the cloakroom, please," he said to the blonde, who looked to be in her mid-twenties. "If she doesn't take them off and give them to you in the next two minutes, take her to the cloakroom and have Garth deal with her." Fionna looked between the two of them beseechingly, but each was just looking at her, waiting for her to comply. She realised she didn't really have an option - she had been given an order by a Dominant and, if she didn't obey, she would be in all sorts of trouble. Reluctantly, she started to remove her clothes.
When she had stripped, she handed her clothes, including her boots, to the waitress, who swiftly disappeared with them. Steve was standing before her, and he took her hand, fastening a leather cuff around her wrist. The cuff had a strap attached to it which lay across her palm and extended to just beyond her fingertips, ending with a metal ring. He secured a similar cuff to her other wrist, leaving her wondering what the straps were intended to do.
She soon found out. Steve took hold of a controller which was hanging by its wire and Fionna heard the whir of an electric motor. A wooden bar appeared before her, attached to a chain which was descending from the ceiling. It stopped at shoulder height, and Steve put the rings on the wrist cuffs into clips at either end of the bar, so that Fionna's hands were now held about three feet apart. He pressed a button on the controller and the bar began to rise again, taking Fionna's arms with it, until she was stretched out, arms above her, balancing on the balls of her feet. She felt incredibly self-conscious yet, at the same time, very turned on as he looked her up and down as if assessing her body, then nodded approvingly. When he turned away to the equipment rack again, she allowed herself a smile of pride at his reaction.
"You have a very beautiful body, Chaindoll," he said, running his fingers down her side, from her armpit to her hip. "You also have a very pretty face, but I don't need to see that at the moment." As he said this, he quickly brought something towards her, and she suddenly found herself plunged into darkness as he pulled the leather hood over her head.
Fionna's mind filled with terror as the blackness devoured her, the smooth surface of the leather pressing against her skin. As the hood assumed its correct position, she realised that she was not in complete darkness; there were two slits, one in front of each eye, which allowed in light. As she adjusted to this restriction of her vision, she found that she could see out. The slits seemed to be edged with some kind of jagged metal, but she couldn't work out what it was.
As Steve laced the hood in place, it squeezed tighter and tighter against her face, forehead, cranium, giving her the sensation of being in the world's smallest prison. She noticed that there was still a small degree of flexibility around her jaw and, on a hunch, she stuck out her tongue, finding that there was a third slit. Feeling along the edge of it with her tongue, she realised that the edging was the teeth of a zip. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she knew that meant that she could be instantly and completely isolated from the outside world.
"Please, Sir," she whined plaintively, "please don't do this! I'm scared! This scares me!"
"I'm sure it does," Steve responded coolly, "but this is about my enjoyment, not your comfort. I think that's enough from you for now." Fionna suddenly felt something being forced past her teeth, something soft which seemed to expand to fill every corner of her mouth, then the zip was pulled shut, trapping her desperate screams inside the hood. To her horror, the zips over her eyes were also closed, shutting out the last vestige of light.
Deprived of her vision, Fionna tried to use her other senses to work out what was happening. She strained to hear something which might give her a clue, but it was her sense of touch which flooded her with fresh input. She felt his hands roaming over her body, exploring it, delving into her secret places. It felt wonderful, and she squirmed delightedly under his touch, sometimes feather-light and teasing, tickling, sometimes firm, grabbing, grasping and groping her soft flesh. When his fingertips brushed against her pussy, she thrust her hips forward wantonly, mutely urging him to go further and assuage the burning desire within her.
She realised that, whatever the hood was doing for him, it was having a major effect on her. It seemed that, hidden behind the impenetrable, de-personalising facade, she was able to lose all her inhibitions and, without her voice, could only use her body to express herself. She knew she was behaving like a 'brazen hussy', as her mother would have put it, but not only was she not ashamed, she was being turned on by her own outrageous behaviour.
When his hands withdrew, she felt a sense of loss and tried, with inarticulate, muted vocalisations and lewd, sensual movements of her body, to encourage him to continue, but to no avail. Eventually, she became still and waited to find out what he would do next, her sense of excitement and anticipation rising as the lull in activity stretched to the point where she wondered if he had abandoned her.
Suddenly, her dark, silent world exploded in a blizzard of sensation. She felt a sudden, sharp pain as something slapped against her right buttock, making her buck away, arching her back and squealing into the gag. She had hardly had time to process the shock of this unexpected, and unwelcome, development when she was struck again, even harder, this time on the front of her left thigh. Again she screamed and twisted in her bondage, trying desperately to avoid the assault.
Steve smiled to himself as he watched her dancing before him, totally at his mercy. This was why he loved to deprive his sub of her vision, so that she would always be taken by surprise, always trying to guess where the next blow would land, and always failing. He took careful aim and delivered the leather tongue of the riding crop with a skillful flick of the wrist, flexing the fibreglass shaft so that it hit her left buttock with a loud slap. He listened to her muffled cries and watched her writhing body with rising excitement, allowing his free hand to brush against the bulge in his jeans.
Again and again he brought the crop down on her, targeting unexpected and increasingly sensitive areas of her body - the small of her back, stomach, abdomen, inner thighs, just below her armpits, the backs of her knees. Finally he focused on her breasts and nipples, until he could tell that she was completely distraught, her cries having become racking sobs, her movements just reflex reactions to the impacts. He felt a surge of sexual power building within him as he approached the climax of this phase of her torment.
He circled her, allowing her a few moments to recover and for her fear of what was to come to grow, examining her body for any damage. There was none, as he had expected, given the design of the crop to deliver a short, painful reminder without marking the skin of the horse or, in this case, the lovely young woman restrained in front of him.
Fionna looked around blindly, wondering where her tormentor was and what he intended to do to her next. Maybe the attack had finished, maybe he was ready to move on to other things, more pleasurable things for her. Maybe-
She gave a full-throated scream as she was hit squarely on her shaved pubis, sending electric jolts of pain flashing through her body. Tears ran down her face in the blackness of the hood and she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to come to terms with the agony she was experiencing. 'What the fuck was with this guy?' she thought bitterly. 'Why would he do that?'
Satisfied that she had entertained him sufficiently with her suffering, he put down the riding crop and used the controller to raise her into the air, lifting her feet off the floor and bringing her to his level. Watching her grab at the straps of the suspension cuffs to support her weight as she twisted slowly at the end of the chain, he pulled down his jeans and shorts, releasing his now-throbbing erection.
He took one of the club condoms and rolled it onto his penis. It was a strict club rule that unprotected penetration was forbidden without express and explicit permission from the sub, which he'd always thought was a good rule - it was for his protection as much as hers.
Now more than ready, he grabbed her thighs, lifted her and pulled her towards him. Without ceremony, he dropped her onto his shaft whilst thrusting upwards, penetrating her deeply and bringing a scream of shock from her. He bounced her up and down vigourously, watching her breasts jiggle enticingly before him as her leather-covered, featureless head lolled back and forth, side to side. He felt her legs grip him around the waist, her ankles crossing behind him.
For Fionna , it was the most amazing sex she had ever had. After the initial shock and immediate pain of his brutal entry, she had quickly become lubricated enough to render his violent thrusting a source of intense pleasure. She had always fantasised about being taken firmly by some strong, attractive stranger, but never like this. This was more, so much more, then she had ever dreamed of. It could be thought of as nonconsensual rape - how could she give consent when she was gagged? – but her whole body was giving her consent.
Steve continued relentlessly, fucking her as hard and as rough as he could, using her as his fuck toy. He liked to abuse women, it's what got him off. But as he approached his orgasm, he realised it wasn't going the way he expected, the way it had with every other girl he treated like this, as if they were nothing but worthless fuck meat. She should be suffering, distressed and humiliated by this whole experience.
But he could tell that this girl, despite the anonymous leather hood removing all expression, was enjoying this. It wasn't right! In a fit of petulant anger, he thrust into her even harder and faster but, rather than protesting, he felt her thighs grip him even more tightly, and he realised that she was riding him to her own climax.
She threw her head back, crying out in her ecstasy as the orgasm exploded at the same moment that he filled the condom. She screwed her eyes shut tight, but bursts of light streamed across her visual cortex like fireworks blossoming in the sky. The sensations seemed to go on forever and her body was so tense, every muscle so tight, that she felt like she would break. Then, in an instant, it was over, and she slumped limply, hanging from the bar like a rag doll.
Steve was in a bad mood as he released Fionna from the bar and she slid to her knees. Angrily, he restrained her arms behind her back, using two belts, one around her wrists, the other just below her elbows, both pulled cruelly tight. He didn't bother to remove the hood, not wanting to see the smug expression he imagined was on her face. He dragged her along by the leash, back to the bar, and left her there, wandering away to see if he could find someone who might enjoy his harsh treatment a little less.
Ten minutes or so had passed before Fionna realised that she had been deserted. At first, she felt rather hurt, wondering what she had done wrong to make Steve just abandon her. But as she thought more about it, she decided that it probably wasn't her fault, it was just that he had got what he wanted and had then made her available for someone else to use. She realised now that Tina had done exactly the same thing - used her, then passed her on. For Fionna, it was like she had just had two one-night stands in just a couple of hours!
Strangely, she didn't feel anything like she usually did after a one-night stand. She had had some great sex, she'd had her first girl-on-girl experience, and she was learning about BDSM. 'What's not to like?' she thought. 'I wonder what will happen next?' She didn't have long to wait.
She was suddenly grabbed under each armpit and marched towards the playroom, her feet hardly touching the floor. Two pairs of hands, she thought. Two men? Two women? A fetish couple? She realised it made no difference, there was nothing she could do about it anyway.
She was pressed face-first against something, a wooden surface, she decided. She was grateful when her arms were released from the belts holding them rather painfully behind her back, but she didn't even have time to flex them before they were pulled up over her head and straps applied around her wrists, pinning them to the wood. When her legs were pulled apart and her ankles similarly restrained, she realised she must be on the cross, the St Andrews cross, she had seen in the playroom before. Her level of anxiety and fear rose sharply as she suspected that this was a whipping station.
Her suspicions were quickly confirmed, as her two attackers took position on either side of her, each having selected one of the club's floggers - multiple strands of soft leather designed to deliver as much pain as the user wanted to dole out without breaking or permanently marking the skin of the victim.
They started on her shoulder blades, and soon had her screaming into the gag and mask, struggling desperately to get free but only succeeding in wriggling and writhing seductively for her audience.
When the skin there started to redden, they redirected the flails at her waist, before moving down to her buttocks and thighs. They swung the floggers alternately, giving their submissive no respite, no chance to deal with one blow before the next arrived. The two dominants smiled at each other, enjoying the muffled cries and whimpers coming from the masked girl in front of them, and redoubled their efforts.
Fionna had never suffered pain like it. Tears streamed from her eyes as she screamed and sobbed forlornly into the unyielding leather imprisoning her head. Once more, phantom lights were blazing before her in the darkness, but for an entirely different, and much less pleasant, reason. Her skin was glowing as if it was on fire as the lashing continued.
It finally came to an end, and she was barely hanging on to her consciousness. When the straps binding her were released, she would have fallen on the floor if she hadn't been held up. That was awful, she thought, but at least it's over and I survived. But, to her horror, she was turned around and pushed back against the cross once more, her wrists and ankles rebound, and this time the front of her body was exposed for flogging!
There was no mercy, as the leather thongs beat down on her breasts, then her stomach and, finally, across her hips and thighs. It proved too much for her and, eventually, she passed out, overcome by the shock of the leather striking her tender pussy lips. Her body ceased its futile dance and her head lolled forward on her chest. Her attackers checked that she was still breathing freely and, having had their fun, returned to the bar.
Fionna recovered consciousness a few minutes later, her whole body aching, although the intensity of the pain quickly dissipated, leaving her feeling as if she had a serious and uncomfortable case of sunburn. On her personal chart of experiences for the night, that had certainly not been her favourite, that was for sure. But, astonishingly, she found herself looking on it as further education in BDSM, rather than a trauma she would do anything to avoid in the future. 'What is wrong with me?' she thought. 'I'm sick! A complete pervert!'
"What have we here?" a male voice close by her said, "an unoccupied submissive, just lazing around? We'd better change that!"
'Oh no, please, no more,' Fionna thought. 'I need a break!' She shook her head and made a few pleading noises into the gag but, unsurprisingly, it had no effect.
She was taken down from the cross but she wasn't free for long. Her arms were pulled behind her and forced into a leather armbinder, although she had no idea what it was at the time. With the palms of her hands pressed together, she felt the leather pulled up to her armpits and the retaining straps passed over her shoulders, crossing between her breasts. They were buckled to the single glove underneath, making it impossible for her to shrug it off. Gradually, as the laces were cinched, the glove gripped her tighter, forcing her forearms together and her shoulders back.
She felt a cuff being strapped around one ankle, then her feet pushed apart until she was starting to do the splits, and a cuff applied to her other ankle. She tried to pull her feet back together so that she could stand more comfortably, but she now realised that there was some kind of bar attached between the cuffs, forcing her to keep her legs spread.
She heard the sound of the motor again and, a few moments later, felt her arms behind her being raised up into the air. Gradually, the single glove was winched up until she was forced to bend over and, by the time the motor fell silent, she was held in a horizontal position, her arms virtually pointing at the ceiling. Fionna felt incredibly vulnerable now, her legs wide apart and her ass presented for who knew what treatment. She feared another thrashing, but this time she had it wrong.
"I think it's time for you to earn your keep, slut," the man said. He pulled the zip over her mouth open and prying the gag from between her teeth.
"Now, you're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sir," Fionna murmured as she felt something brush against her lips, immediately knowing what it was, and what this latest Dom expected her to do with it. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth and allowed him to slide his erect cock all the way in, until her nose was pressing against his abdomen.
He was already hard as steel but, with skilled use of her lips and tongue, she soon had him panting with pent-up excitement. He began to groan in ecstasy as she gave him one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had. She tickled and teased, licked and sucked, until he could take no more. He took hold of her featureless, leather-covered head and thrust frantically into her mouth until, letting out a strangled cry, he climaxed, spurting like a fountain.
Fionna, cheeks bulging, turned her head to one side to spit out his copious seed. But, just as she was about to do it, she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, thumb and forefinger pinching her nose closed.
"Don't you dare, slut," he growled, "you swallow that like it's the finest wine you ever tasted!" Struggling for breath, Fionna realised she had no choice and, trying to ignore the foul taste, she swallowed it all.
"You give good head, slut," the man said as he loosened the laces at the back of the hood, "what's your name?"
"Chaindoll, Sir," she replied uncertainly. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, but she couldn't pin it down.
"Hmm, nice," he said, finally removing the leather hood and he looked into her face. It was red and blotchy after its confinement, her hair flattened by the hood and plastered to her forehead and cheeks by sweat, and there were black streaks where her mascara had run and marked out the tracks of her tears. Her lips, slightly parted, glistened with the black lipstick but, at the corners of her mouth, small traces of his cum still lingered. Despite all this, or possibly because of it, he thought she looked more beautiful than the first time he had seen her.
"But I prefer… Fifi!"
Fionna blinked, temporarily blinded by the bright lights, and she struggled to focus on the figure squatting down before her. But she didn't need to see, she had already identified him.
"Oh my God! Doug?" she exclaimed, horrified, "what the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm a member," he smiled, casually brushing the stray hairs out of her face, "my parents don't realise it, but they're paying my membership when they pay my tuition fees. So you could say, my mom and dad just paid for you to suck me off! I'm so glad you accepted my invitation."
"Invitation?" Fionna queried in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"That flyer, I left it," he smirked, his hands moving down to grope her hanging breasts, "I'm particularly proud of the insert I wrote, targeted only at you. I hoped you'd come tonight, maybe just to find out what it was all about, but I never expected you to join in so enthusiastically!"
"Join in?!" she spat, "I didn't have a choice! They threatened to send me to Garth and…"
"And what? What did you expect him to do?" Doug scoffed. "Throw you in the deep, dark dungeon he doesn't have? Call the cops?! 'Oh, officer, please arrest this girl, she won't let us tie her up and have sex with her'? No, I think you always wanted to find out what it's like to be a submissive, so you went along with it. With all of it."
Fionna blushed furiously, knowing deep down that he was absolutely right. "What are you going to do now?" she asked nervously, "let me go… please?"
"Soon, but not quite yet," he said, walking around behind her and patting her rump, "there's one more thing I've always wanted to do with you." He prized apart her buttocks and squirted lubricant along her crack, working it into her anus with his finger.
"Oh, please, don't do that, Doug," Fionna whined, "I've never let anybody do that to me!"
"That's okay, Fifi," Doug replied as he rolled the condom onto his restored erection, "you're not letting me do it now. That's the joy of this place, I don't have to ask your permission." As he said this, he thrust into her, bringing a pained cry from her lips.
Fionna gritted her teeth and tried to shut out the sensations as he unceremoniously humped her, violating her in a way she had thought was sacrosanct, certainly something to which she would never willingly submit. She felt her breasts jiggling below her as he banged into her, hard and fast, only managing to remain on her feet because of the rope holding her arms and his tight grip on her hips. The air was repeatedly driven from her lungs, making her gasp and grunt, until he finally finished.
"Well, this has been amazing, Fifi," Doug said as he released the armbinder from the hoist and removed the spreader bar between her ankles, "you really are as good a fuck as I always imagined. But don't worry, I won't be telling anyone about this. What happens in the club, stays in the club." He turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to take this thing off me?" Fionna asked, turning and proffering her leather-bound arms to him, "I need to leave as well, you know."
"Nah," he replied dismissively, "get Garth to do it when you go pick up your clothes. See you Monday." And, with that, he walked away, leaving Fionna to watch in dismay. She started after him, wanting to persuade him to release her, to make sure that he really meant it, about this remaining a secret. But as she followed him, she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.
"Hey there, girl, don't run away," she heard as she was turned around to face a man smiling darkly at her, "me and my friends want to… get to know you a little better." The man was, she thought, in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, and he was flanked by three others, all looking at her expectantly.
"Please, Sir," Fionna begged forlornly, "I'm so tired, I need to go home!"
"There's another hour before this place closes," the man said, looking at his watch, "until then, you're ours to do with as we please, slut." He pushed her roughly down to her knees, and the four of them formed a circle around her. She looked up at them pleadingly, but saw only dispassionate lust written across their faces. As they each unfastened their trousers, she unconsciously licked her lips in anticipation…
Garth looked at his watch as he stifled a yawn. Just a few more minutes, then he could go home to his welcoming bed. This place was hard work, but it made so much money and the constant parade of good-looking women in sexy outfits was so alluring, he never regretted having started it, or the long hours he put in.
He heard a loud noise, and looked over at the door into the club. Someone, or something, had banged into it from the inside, and now he could see the lever handle moving as someone tried to open it. It flicked back up and the door remained shut, so he walked over to find out what was going on.
He opened the door and a body fell out into the hall, sprawling at his feet. He recognised the cute Goth girl he had allowed in earlier, but she looked a little different now. She was naked, as he knew she would be, as one of his staff had given him her clothes for safekeeping, and her arms were encased in one of the single gloves provided by the club.
He could see the lingering marks where she had been flogged, but the most obvious sign of her evening's ordeal was the copious amounts of semen splattered on her. It was all over her face, in her hair, and across her breasts.
"Little help here?" she croaked, looking up at him hopefully. Her words snapped Garth out of his stupor, and he helped her to her feet, unbuckling and removing the armbinder. He found a towel and handed it to her while he went off to retrieve her clothes.
"You've had quite a night, I hear," he said as she got dressed. "People have been coming up to me all night and saying 'who's the new girl, the sexy Goth?' One person even congratulated me on providing you as entertainment. It got me to thinking. How would you like to come work here?"
"What?" Fionna said, looking sharply at him, "as what?"
"I dunno what we'd call it," Garth responded thoughtfully. "Hostess? Maybe the 'Club Sub'? You'd be doing just what you did tonight, except you'd be paid for it."
"You want me to whore myself out? For money?" Fionna exclaimed in horror. "That's disgusting! I couldn't do that!"
Garth looked at her, judging whether her indignation was sincere, or just a knee-jerk reaction. "You a student?" he asked, receiving a nod in response. "Lots of girls these days pay their way through college working as call girls, strippers, or pole dancers. This wouldn't be any different, except that you'd be doing something you really enjoyed. You did enjoy yourself tonight, didn't you?"
She blushed and remained quiet for a long time. "Yes… Yes I did," Fionna replied thoughtfully, absent-mindedly rubbing the gobs of dried cum out of her hair while, in her mind, an argument raged. Unfortunately, the 'voice of reason' had taken on the shrill tones of her mother.
"How can you even be considering this, Fionna?" the voice was saying. "Those people in there, they don't care about you! They don't care about your feelings, only their own pleasure! They were using you! And using you in the most filthy, degrading way possible, for the worst kind of perverted sex! You'd be insane to submit to that again!"
If this had been a real argument, it would have ended there, with them screaming at each other and Fionna storming off to her room, leaving her mother to celebrate a victory for Tough Parenting by hitting the gin. But it wasn't real, so Fionna got to present the alternative view.
'The thing is, I agree with most of that,' she was thinking, 'I know they don't care about me, or my feelings, and that they are just using me. But that just turns me on like crazy. It turns out that I love being used, and filthy, degrading, perverted sex - well, that's just the best sex! The whole thing about being dominated, being tied up and forced to do whatever someone else wants me to do, I find irresistible! Even when it's someone like Doug, someone I hate in the 'real' world, well, that just makes it even more humiliating and therefore even more exhilarating!'
"Okay," she said defiantly, looking up at Garth, "I'll give it a go! I'll become the club's resident Bondage Barbie!"
"That's great!" Garth exclaimed delightedly, but with a degree of astonishment that she had been persuaded so easily. But then he realised he hadn't persuaded her at all, she had done it all by herself.
"You'd better go home and get some sleep," he growled, mock-sternly. "You start work tonight."
"Yes, Master!" Fionna smiled, before skipping outside into the light of the early dawn…

The End

Copyright© 2016 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.