Picking up guys in bars

This is a true story, or as true as I remember it. I’ve changed some of
the names, for obvious reasons. My name isn’t Jenny, my boss isn’t named
Cynthia, and the club in question isn’t called Club San Limites, but the
club does exist in downtown Montreal under a different name. I’ve also
omitted some details like what industry I work in and where what city I
live in. It’s not like I’m famous or anything, but it’s a small industry
and those who work in it could probably identify “Cynthia” and me from
details like that. But those details aren’t important to the story, so
leaving them out won’t affect anything.

That trip to Montreal changed my life. It opened me up to a world that
I was only vaguely aware existed, and more importantly, it led me to
discover who I am sexually. I’d been to Montreal before; we have a major
client located there, and I’d been working on that account for two years,
but this was the first trip to the city on my own. I was taking over
management of the account from Cynthia, my boss. It was my first big
promotion, and I was excited.

Even better, before we got to Montreal we had a stop in New York to see
another client. Cynthia was along for that leg of the trip. I was
twenty-five years old and this was my first trip to the Big Apple. We
spent the day in meetings and at dinner with the client, so I didn’t have
much of a chance to see the city, but that didn’t matter. I was in New
York, and that was thrill enough. Then I was up before dawn to catch the
first flight to Montreal.

And to make things even better, Cynthia had suggested I stay the weekend
in Montreal, even going so far as telling me to expense the weekend hotel
bills, saying I would be spending a lot of time in Montreal, so I should
get to know the city on the company’s dime. She said I could consider it
sort of a bonus for working so hard over the last year. Cynthia is great
like that. She’s demanding and makes you bust your ass, but she also knows
how to reward you. I loved working for her, and she’d taken me under her
wing as a prot,g,.

A few weeks before the trip, I had half-suspected that Cynthia was
interested in me sexually. Now, I had wondered about her sexual
orientation before–she was forty-five and never married, never bringing a
partner, male or female, to any corporate social event–but I actually knew
almost nothing about her personal life. Cynthia is scrupulous about
maintaining a professional demeanor. What made me suspect she might be
interested in me was that a few weeks earlier she had cracked that
professional barrier and asked about my social life, in particular whether
there was a guy in my life.

There’s not, at least not any one guy. I’ve got a couple of friends who
provide benefits and are usually available for late-night booty calls, and
when the urge is overpowering and my friends are otherwise engaged, I just
go out to a bar and pick a guy up. I don’t want to sound conceited or
anything, but I’m good looking and finding a guy for a roll in the sack
just isn’t a problem. My priorities right now are work, the gym, and
nights out with friends. I’m twenty-five. True love and finding the one
guy to spend the rest of my life with can wait a while.

Anyway, Cynthia seemed surprised when I told her that I didn’t date
much, telling me that should be more adventurous–for obvious reasons I
didn’t tell her about picking up guys in bars. I remember her exact words
because they were so surprising, “at your age you should be exploring your
sexuality. You need to find what excites you, what turns you on. If
you’re into being tied up, you should be learning how to tie knots. If
you’re into women, you need to be discovering that.” Up to that point, the
conversation had been one I could have had with any of my girlfriends, but
it was that statement that led me to think she might be interested in being
more than just a friend.

That isn’t the sort of thing that bosses, especially bosses as savvy as
Cynthia, say. Told to the wrong person, it could be the basis for a sexual
harassment suit. Not that I took offense. In fact, I thought I might be
willing to have fling with Cynthia if she asked. I didn’t think I was
really into women, but I’d fooled around with some of my girlfriends once
or twice–nothing major, just some kissing and fumbling about–but Cynthia
is quite attractive, and despite what she thought, I could be
adventurous–more adventurous than even I knew, as it turned out. I’d
often wondered what real sex with a woman might be like and was willing to
try it under the right circumstances. But nothing came of the
conversation, and by the time the Montreal trip rolled around I was
convinced that she had been just trying to be a friend and had been
extending her mentoring role into my social life. I figured that she
didn’t want me to make the mistake she had made and end up being forty-five
and alone, without even a girlfriend to talk to about men and sex.

Cynthia was beautiful, elegant, and had a winning personality–she could
charm just about anyone. She was also rich, having been with the company
since its founding and had made a fortune when the firm went public. But
she still worked harder than anyone else in the firm, continuing to bring
in millions in new business to the company, and that kind of dedication
came at a cost. As far as I could tell, she had no social life at all.
She was at the stage in life where she would be justified in powering down,
reducing her hours, and delegating more work to her employees, but she
remained as hard charging a businesswoman as ever. She lived for work.

Anyway, all that was going through my mind as I took the elevator up to
my hotel room. The meetings that day with the Montreal client had gone
really well, and I was looking forward to a weekend of exploring the city.
It was snowing, but Montreal on a Friday night, even a snowy one, would be

Once I got to my room, however, I saw the bag sitting on the bed. It
was black leather, Coach, and thus expensive. It had a tag on it that
read, “To help you enjoy the weekend.” No signature. My first thought was
that Cynthia had arranged to have a present delivered. But then I opened
the bag.

It was some kind of sick joke. Inside was a kinky sex kit. There was a
leather collar; some sort of leather body harness; a pair of elbow-length,
black gloves; and a pair of black leather, above-the-knee boots. There
were two vibrators, one like the one I, and every girl my age, has at home
and another smaller one, a pocket rocket for the clit. Some of my
girlfriends told me those pocket rockets were absolutely great, but that
I’d never tried one. There was also a huge dildo made of black silicone.
It was about nine inches long and thicker than any cock had the right to
be, and came with a corresponding strap-on harness. There was also a
double-headed, silicone dildo. The sex toys were all in their original
packaging, and to top it all off, the bag contained an assortment of lubes
and body oils. There was also an envelope inside that contained some kind
of membership card. It read, “Club Sans Limites, Member # A0154, if found,
please return to…” and there was a Montreal address and phone number. It
didn’t take a pocket-rocket scientist to figure out that the Club San
Limites was some kind of sex club.

I knew right away that Cynthia would never give me something like this.
Either this was an over-the-top prank by one of my friends or I had some
pervert for a stalker. All my friends knew I was in Montreal for the
weekend, as did everyone at work, plus a bunch of my clients. Any of them
could easily have found out which hotel I was staying at. I couldn’t think
of anyone at work who would send me this, and while some of my friends
aren’t above playing pranks, this went beyond anything they might do. Not
only did they not think like this, none of them would spend this kind of
money on a prank–I didn’t know how much sex toys like this cost, but they
looked expensive, and I do know how much a Coach bag costs; the bag and its
contents easily cost six or seven hundred dollars.

But then I realized there were a few other people who might have sent
it–the clients I worked for here in Montreal. There were two partners who
owned the company and either one could easily afford this, and they might
know about the club, given that they lived in the city. They were both
older men, in their mid-fifties. I knew John the best. He was a really
sweet guy, but not the kind of guy you’d expect to be a member of a kinky
sex club. He was a jovial, pudgy guy who was always going on about his
family and kids and the charity work that he threw himself into every spare
minute he had. And he had never shown the slightest hint that he might be
seriously interested in sex with me–or anyone else, for that matter. He’d
have to be an amazing con artist to have a secret kinkster identity.
Keith, the other partner, was another matter. His responsibilities in the
company didn’t overlap with my work, so I hadn’t had many dealings with
him. I knew nothing about him except that he was divorced. It’s possible
he could be harboring a secret thing for me and this was his way of letting
me know. Keith wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but not really my type, and I
would never sleep with a client anyway. And anyway, any guy who pulled a
stunt like this to get my attention would be scratched off my list. It was
just too creepy.

That left the stalker theory, and that wasn’t a comfort.

I called the front desk and asked who had delivered the bag. After a
few minutes, the desk clerk called back and said that the bag had been
dropped off by a messenger service with instructions that it be delivered
to my room at check-in. He was sorry he couldn’t be of more help.

I flipped open my laptop and Googled the name of the club. There were
only a few hits, all business directories that gave the club’s address and
phone number and said only that it was a “private club.” Whatever this club
was, it didn’t have a web page and its members didn’t talk about it on the
net. I next went to Google Maps and looked up the address. It was on a
side street, a few blocks from my hotel. The street view showed that it
was on a respectable street, lined with a mix of offices, cafes, and shops,
but at the club’s address all I could see was a blank door and a small sign
with name of the club. So the place existed, but was very discreet,
whatever it was.

I decided that, prank or pervert, I wasn’t going to play the game. So I
put the bag aside and started unpacking my clothes and thinking about plans
for that evening. The snow would limit my options, but maybe the concierge
could direct me to a decent bar or club. But my thoughts kept drifting
back to the bag and what kind of establishment the Club San Limites was and
how much whoever sent it knew about me.

I opened the bag again and checked the sizes of the boots and clothing.
They fit me. That made me more nervous. Someone who knew my shoe size had
gone to great trouble and expense to lure me to this club. And the really
troubling thing was that it was working.

My curiosity won out. I knew that if I didn’t go, I’d be wondering the
rest of my life what the hell had been going on. I might as well check out
this club to see if it was what I thought it was and if someone had really
given me a membership to it. I had nothing better to do that evening, and
it would be an adventure. I thought about the risk, but it seemed minimal.
The location was public. It’s not like I was going to go walking down a
dark alley. And if anything looked sketchy, I could just turn around and
leave. So I put on my coat, picked up the bag, and headed down to the
lobby to catch a cab to the club.

It wasn’t snowing all that much, but the streets were deserted already,
even though it was only just after seven on a Friday night. It only took a
few minutes to get to the club’s address. The street was mostly empty, the
offices and cafes, which catered to the lunch crowd, were closed. There
were a few people hurriedly walking past though, so it didn’t seem
particularly ominous, and I noticed a corner bar down that block that I
could use as a refuge if things got scary. After the cab drove off I stood
in the snow for a moment, screwing up the courage to open the door. Then I
walked up the three steps to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

The foyer looked like the entrance to an upscale restaurant, with dark
wood paneling and plush carpeting. There was reception station, staffed by
a young woman, about my age, wearing glasses and with her hair bound up in
a bun. Vaguely pretty, she didn’t have the appearance of someone who would
be working the door at a sex club. She looked like a no-nonsense

“Bonjour,” said the woman.

Unsure of what to say, I just handed the woman the membership card. The
woman looked at the card and then punched something, presumably the member
number, into the reception station’s computer.

“Good evening, Ms. Loring,” said the woman, in accented, but perfect
English. “Welcome to the Club Sans Limites. I’m Helene, the hostess for
this evening. If you require anything, just ask me or any of the staff.
We’re here to make your visit exciting and pleasant.”

I was about to explain that I had been given the bag and card and had no
idea what the club was, but the woman just continued.

“Since it’s your first time, I’d like to give you a tour of our
facilities and explain how we operate. I’m sure you’re familiar with it
from our correspondence and from the friend who nominated you for
membership, but we always like to go over the details with those coming
here for the first time. We find that making sure that there are no
misunderstandings in advance makes for a more enjoyable evening.”

Again, my curiosity got the better of me. I would take the tour and
then leave. I had idly wondered what went on in sex clubs before–and by
now I was pretty damned sure this was a sex club, a very upscale sex
club–and this would be a no-risk way of finding out. Besides, tonight
would probably be my only opportunity to ever step foot in a place like
this. I might as well see what was beyond the reception station. I found
myself smiling and agreeing to the tour.

Helene took the bag from me and handed it to another woman, and then she
and I started the tour off with the changing rooms, which were on the first
floor. There were a lot of them, at least twenty. Each had a locker, a
shower and toilet, and a small bed. Helene explained that members often
chose to sleep a few hours in their changing room before heading home in
the morning; it was a private place to prepare before the evening’s
“entertainment,” and for recuperating afterward. One of the club’s few
rules was that the “entertainment,” as she kept calling it, was not to
occur in the changing rooms. There were beds upstairs that weren’t for

She then took me upstairs. On the second floor there was a small bar
and some staff were setting out a light buffet supper. Helene explained
that drinks were available, but that most members refrained from anything
more than a glass of wine or two. “It blunts the abilities,” she
explained. The same went with the food; a heavy meal “interfered with the
fun, but you need something to keep the blood sugar up.”

Next up was the common room. It took up most of the second floor and
the ceiling extended up through the next floor. It was designed around a
large sunken pit with couches around the edge. There were that various
restraints, cages, and bondage devices scattered throughout the room.
There were a few chairs with stirrups and arm restraints, a couple of sex
swings, and at the very center of the pit was what looked like a vaulting
horse, but had shackles for arms and legs; it was clearly designed to have
someone bent over it and tied down. I had seen pictures of such furniture
on the internet, but I never dreamed I would actually see them in real
life. No one else was in the room, and Helene explained that things usually
didn’t get started until after nine. I asked how many would normally be
here on a typical Friday night and she told me that some twenty or thirty
club members might be there on weekend nights, but that she didn’t expect
that many tonight because of the snow.

“Of course, we have our entertainment staff to supplement the guests,”
explained Helene. “So you don’t have to worry if it’s not crowded.
There’s always someone to play with.”

“Do you…?” I asked. She didn’t look like a prostitute, or at least
how I thought a prostitute should look. Regardless of the euphemism
“entertainment staff,” prostitutes were what they were. Maybe exclusive to
the club and probably well paid, but prostitutes nonetheless.

“Oh no,” replied Helene. “I’m not entertainment staff. I keep the
club’s books and some nights I’m at the reception desk.” She reached out
and gently stroked my chin. “But sometimes I make an exception for special
members. Just for fun.”

I felt a knot begin to form in my stomach. Perhaps my little game had
gone on too long.

But the tour continued. On the floor above were private rooms. They
ran along one side of balcony that overlooked the big common room below.
The rooms were decorated in various themes, accommodating almost any
fantasy one could think of. Some imitated decor from around the world;
there was an Egyptian room and a Japanese room, for instance. Others were
outfitted as dungeons. While the decor choices were varied, they all
exhibited good taste, if you could call it that. What I mean is that there
were no velvet paintings of naked women or porn films playing on
large-screen TVs, the kind of things I expected to see at a sex club, and
it was all very clean and well maintained. About half of the rooms had
large Jacuzzis. Two of the rooms were basically big tiled bathrooms, for
“water sports” explained Helene. I made a note to find out exactly what
“water sports” entailed–when I did find out later on, I realized instantly
that it wasn’t my scene at all, but to each her own. One room looked like
a cheap hotel room, for “affairs” explained Helene. Another looked like a
teenage girl’s room. “Schoolgirl fantasy” was the explanation. Some of
the rooms had the doors closed. “Occupied.”

Helene explained that if you left the door open, you were open to others
joining you. If you kept it closed, you wanted to remain private. “If you
think you might like to join in,” explained Helene, “it is best to stand by
the door until the occupants notice you. They’ll invite you in if they
want you to join them. Don’t take it personally if you aren’t invited. It
just may not be the right moment for them.” She took a long look up and
down my body. “You won’t have any problems, though.” I get those looks
from guys all the time. It was disconcerting to get it from this
prim-looking woman.

We ended up back in one of the changing rooms, and I saw that the
contents of the bag had been neatly laid out. All the items had been
removed from their packaging.

“Now, I have to go over a few safety rules,” said Helene. “First, do
not feel pressured to do anything you do not want to do. You decide what
activities you want to participate in and with who; do not worry about what
anyone else thinks, and feel free to say ‘no’ to anything you are not
comfortable with. The safe word is ‘alabaster.’ If any of your partners
say that word, ‘alabaster,’ stop what you’re doing immediately. If your
partner is restrained, loosen the restraints as well. If at any time you
feel uncomfortable or want to stop, just say ‘alabaster.’ Sometimes new
members get somewhat scared their first time. Don’t be afraid to use the
safe word, which is ‘alabaster.’ Sometimes it just takes a minute or two to
compose yourself, or the activity is just getting a little too intense, and
you can continue in a few moments. And don’t worry, we’ve never had a
problem with a member ignoring a safe word. Everyone here is very
considerate.” Helene went on to explain the hand signals that were to be
used in lieu of a safe word when either I or one of my partners were
gagged. Then she made me repeat the safe word and make the hand signals.
Finally she said that at the end of the evening, if I wished, I could leave
the bag in the changing room and all the gear would be cleaned and held
until I visited the club again. All I need do was call ahead, and
everything would be prepared for my arrival.

“Since the club is rather quiet right now, you’ll probably want one of
the staff to warm you up. You’re new, but do you have anyone in mind?”

“I really don’t know…”

“Of course, I will pick someone out for you. I know just who will be
right for you. Get changed and someone will be here to take you up to one
of the rooms shortly. Prenez du bon temps!” And then Helene was gone.

I just stood there. I knew I should just walk out, but I couldn’t make
my legs move. From the moment I had arrived at the club, I had started to
become excited. I could feel that warm, nervous ball in my gut that glowed
whenever I anticipated sex. I didn’t start with any conscious intent of
staying and having sex, especially kinky sex, but as the tour had
progressed I had gotten hornier. Now the desire was overwhelming. I found
myself undressing and taking a shower, after which I started to get into
the leather outfit. I fumbled a bit with the harness thingy, trying to
figure out how to put it on, but I got it after a minute. I fastened the
leather collar around my neck, laced up the high boots with the spiked
heels, put on the gloves, and looked at myself in the mirror–I looked
good; the black leather contrasted with my pale skin and matched my dark
hair, the harness accentuated my breasts, and my lanky body in that outfit
simply screamed “mistress of pain.” For once my height and smallish
breasts–I’m 5′ 9″ and a B-cup–were working for me. But something was
off. It was the hair. My shoulder length hairstyle just didn’t fit with
the costume, so I tied it back in a ponytail. That was better. Not only
did the ponytail make me look more like a “dominatrix,” but it got it out
of the way and more practical–although while I may have looked the part, I
had no idea how to act like a dominatrix or even any idea if I wanted to.
Then a knock came at the door and I was past the point of no return.

I opened the door to find a very beautiful woman clad in a leather
corset, garters and stockings. She had a collar around her neck. She was
a bit shorter than me, but curvier, with a bigger bust, and light brown

“I am Celine, Ms. Loring. Do you have a particular room preference?”

“Nnn…no,”I stammered. “Any one will do fine.”

“Let me get your things then,” said Celine, who picked up the various
toys and bottles of lube and placed them in the bag. Then picking up the
bag and taking me by the hand she led me upstairs.

I found myself in the Japanese room. Tatami mats covered the floor and
most of the walls. There were some paintings of some traditional Japanese
nature scenes on the walls as well as some hangings with calligraphy on
them. The room had a large king-size bed, a Jacuzzi, and various
restraints hung from the ceiling and some of the walls. The wall opposite
the bed was dominated by an x-shaped cross with hand and ankle cuffs. I
wondered what the man that Helene had picked out for her would look like
and whether or not he would be gentle. Helene clearly thought that I was
more adventurous than I actually was, and there was no telling what kind of
person Helene would think was “right” for me.

Celine busied herself taking toys and lube from out of the bag and
laying them out on the bed. Then she crossed the room and embraced me.

“Now what kind of things do you like?” asked Celine.

“Um, I thought you were going to be a man…”

“Would you like me to get one of the boys? I won’t be insulted or upset
if that is what you prefer.”

I flashed to what Cynthia had said to me, about exploring my sexuality.
This might be the moment to play with a woman. No strings. No one else
would ever be the wiser.

“No, no. I’m just a bit surprised,” I found myself saying.

“Good,” said Celine. “When I saw you I thought it would be my lucky
night. Helene is good to me. We’ll have a lot of fun together, and later
on we can find some men if you wish. Now, you’re here, so you’re not
vanilla, but are you mild, edgy, or hardcore?”

I was about to reply “mild,” but I checked myself.

“I like edgy, but nothing extreme,” I ended up saying. “And no pain,” I
added at the last minute.

“I understand. I am sorry for all the questions, but one more. Are you
dom or sub?”

It was time for a bit of honesty as it would be readily apparent in a
few minutes that I had no idea what I was doing.

“I’m still kind of new at this. Maybe you’d better take the lead.”

“Certainly. I will take charge, but your wish is my command.”

With that she put her hand behind my head and drew my lips to meet her
own. Ever so gently, she started to part my lips with her tongue and soon
we were engaged in a fierce exchange of tongues. Then Celine broke off the
kiss, nipping at my lower lip as she did so; not hard enough really hurt,
but just hard enough to let me know that she was not all sugar and spice. A
chill run down my spine when I felt that slight pain. It was a level of
eroticism I had never before experienced. And the fact that it turned me
on scared me more than a little.

Then she began to maneuver me backward, toward the bed, pushing me down
onto it when we reached the destination. Celine jumped on top, straddling
me and began nipping at my breasts, shoulders, and neck. I started to
block her, but Celine grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the bed above my
head. I was now relatively helpless and another thrill ran through me when
I realized there was nothing I could do to stop it. The biting continued.
I just put my head back and let it happen.

Celine alternated nips and kisses. When she bit my nipples, which are
especially sensitive, it was an unbearable joy. The moment of expectation,
not knowing what was to be delivered. Would be a kiss or a bite? The
anticipation was excruciating. But while the nips and kisses, and the
delays between them, were exquisitely pleasurable, I was frustrated. I
couldn’t move my arms, and as attentive and skilled as Celine was, my
inability to move made me uncomfortable.

Celine noticed. “Would you like me to stop?”

“Just release my arms, please.” Celine complied. “The rest of what you
were doing was very nice, though.”

“Would you like to be on top? Perhaps you are a bit of dom. You like
to be in control, yes?” said Celine having diagnosed the cause of my
discomfort better than I ever could have.

“Yes, please.”

And with that, Celine gave me another kiss, and rolled over onto her
back, pulling me on top of her.

I felt like the dog who caught the car. I was suddenly at a loss as to
what to do with my new plaything.

“Would my mistress like to restrain me?” prompted Celine, turning her
head to look at one of the corners of the bed. I noticed that at the four
corners of the bed there were padded leather cuffs with straps attaching
them to the bedposts. I quickly moved to secure Celine’s wrists and
ankles, and in a moment she was spread eagle on the bed, her breasts

“Would my mistress like to know if I’ve been a good girl?” she prompted

I reached out my hand and tweaked her left nipple. “Has my plaything
been a good girl?”

“Yes, mistress.”

I slapped her left breast. “I don’t believe you.”

“But I have been, mistress.”

Slap! To the right one this time.

“You know I don’t like it when you don’t tell the truth.” I was
astonishing myself. I didn’t know where all this was coming from. And I
could feel myself starting to get wet between my legs.

“I swear, mistress, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Slap! “Didn’t you just try to dominate your mistress?”

“Yes…but only because I thought that’s what you wanted, and I didn’t
know the rules. Please don’t punish me too harshly.”

“Maybe I’ll be lenient this time, but you will have to be punished. I’m
not going to let you cum, at least not right away. Is that fair?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“You’ll have to pleasure me, though. And if you do a good job, I’ll
think about letting you cum.”

With that I offered my left breast to Celine’s mouth, and she eagerly
started to suck and tongue the nipple. Her mouth on my breast felt even
better than when I had been the one restrained. After a few minutes I
switched and offered her my right breast, which she eagerly attacked as
well. She took another nip at my nipple.

Slap! I brought my hand down on Celine’s pussy, causing her eyes to
open wide with surprise.

“Tit for tat. If you try to hurt your mistress, she will punish you.
And remember, she’s the one in control.” Much as I had liked the nips, this
control was better.



“Yes, mistress.”

“For that insubordination, you’re going to have to eat my pussy.” With
that I straddled Celine’s head and lowered my pussy to her mouth. For the
first time, I felt a woman’s tongue down there, my earlier fooling around
with my girlfriends never having progressed this far.

But I quickly found that Celine was far more skilled than any man I had
ever been with. This dominance thing had come out of nowhere, and I really
had no idea what I was doing, so far having made it up as I went along. I
had hoped to use the opportunity afforded by my sitting on her face to
figure out what to do next. I really was at a loss. But Celine’s skills
were too much for my brain to cope with, and I couldn’t think what to do
next; I was too distracted by the pleasure she was giving me.

She had started by parting my labia with her tongue, taking long licks
from down below and ending just shy of my clit. Then she started
alternating those licks by taking my labia between her lips and tugging and
squeezing, which indirectly started stimulating my clit. Then Celine
raised her head and started swirling her tongue around the bud of my clit,
zeroing in on it, until she took it between her lips and started sucking,
alternating that with little flicks by the tip of her tongue.

I felt the orgasm begin, that familiar tingle in my feet that then moved
up my legs, signaling that it was on its way and nothing would stop it. I
felt detached, almost like an out-of-body experience, like a wave of
pleasure had temporarily pushed me out of her body. I could still feel the
pleasures of Celine’s tonguing, but I felt them at a remove. My breathing
became ragged and labored. Then the wave of pleasure hit, traveling from
groin to brain. I didn’t exactly pass out; I remained aware of what was
happening, but it was as if my brain short circuited, losing all muscle
control. I collapsed on top of Celine, eyes closed. It had been a good

The musky odor of Celine’s pussy brought me back to reality. It smelled
good. Throwing the dominance scenario out the window, I just wanted to
return the favor. But first I untied Celine; I wanted her unrestrained for
this. As Celine moved her limbs and rubbed her wrists, I positioned myself
back on top in a sixty-nine and started eating my first pussy.

Celine tasted good; her sweat mixed with the tart taste of her juices.
It was not at all like a man tastes. This was less confusing than being
the dom. While I had never gone down on a woman before, at least I had
lots of experience being on the receiving end. If I just did what I liked
to have done to me, I couldn’t be too far off. I focused my tongue on
Celine’s clit, alternating licking and sucking, and ran the fingers of my
right hand along Celine’s labia. She was wet. I penetrated her with one
finger, then two. The angle was somewhat awkward, but manageable.

For her part, Celine began licking me again, and was rather successful
at first, but as Celine’s own pleasure grew and I focused on her pussy,
moving slightly to get a better angle, my pussy moved further and further
away from her mouth. After a few minutes, she could only manage a few
licks here and there. But I didn’t care. I had had my pleasure, now I
wanted Celine’s too.

And I got it. After a few more minutes of this, Celine rocked with her
own orgasm. And the two of us cuddled together and kissed.

“Wow! That was great,” said Celine, breaking the kiss.

“I had no idea what I was doing. That was my first time, both with a
woman and with this dominatrix thing.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“I have so much to learn.”

“Well, you’ve got a good start…We have an audience.”

I turned and looked at the door, not realizing before, in all my
nervousness, that Celine had left it open. A naked man was standing there,
slowly stroking his erect cock. He was older, salt and pepper hair, in his
late forties or fiftyish, but in good shape, and rather handsome.

“Would my plaything like a nice, juicy cock to play with, as a reward
for giving her mistress such a wonderful orgasm?”

“Oh yes, mistress,” replied Celine.

I beckoned the man into the room.

“Suck his cock for me,” I whispered into Celine’s ear.

Celine stood up, met the man by the side of the bed, dropped to her
knees, and took the cock into her mouth.

I lay on the bed watching, absent mindedly running a finger in a circle
around my clitoris, and realizing that I wanted a cock now too. Watching
Celine service this anonymous gentleman was exciting, but just watching
wasn’t satisfying enough.

I stood up and stood next to the man, putting her arm around him,
looking down at the gorgeous, curvy woman sucking his cock, occasionally
kissing the man’s shoulder.

“Does he taste good?”

“Yes, mistress,” Celine said. “Would mistress like a taste?”

“In a moment. I just want to watch for now.”

I then noticed a movement by the door; another man was standing there.
This one was younger, mid-thirties, blond with blue eyes. He wasn’t erect,
but his cock looked large nonetheless. I beckoned him in too, dropping to
my knees in front of him.

For the first time that evening, I was on familiar ground. True, I was
engaged in a foursome in a sex club, and any moment others might show up to
watch, but I did know how to suck cock. Cynthia had once told me that when
confronted with a large task that you didn’t know how to begin, you should
just find a small piece that you know how to do and start with that. For
me that night, that small piece was sucking cock. But as I suspected, the
piece was far from small. In fact the man was rather large, in girth as
well as length. Not monstrous, but definitely in the category of

The man grew hard quickly, and I found I couldn’t keep the whole cock in
my mouth. I licked down the shaft, and pushing the penis against the man’s
stomach, I took his balls into my mouth, one at a time. I realized the man
was shaved, surprised that I hadn’t noticed it before. It made licking his
balls a lot easier and more pleasant.

But I didn’t want him to cum like this. I needed to be fucked. I stood
up, and without saying a word drew my new partner to the bed. I lay down
and looked up at him. He didn’t need to be told what to do. I closed her

I felt the head of his cock rub up and down my labia, as he found the
entrance to my vagina. Then a gentle pressure and, large as he was, he
slipped right in. He pushed slowly but firmly, until I could feel his
thighs press against mine. He was buried inside me, filling me quite
nicely. Then he started thrusting back and forth. I rocked my hips in
sync with this thrusts, taking him as deeply as I could on each down

I felt a kiss on my forehead. It was the older man. He presented his
penis to my mouth, and I took it in eagerly. Two men at once. Another

This was an amazing feeling, being doubly filled. Normally, fucking
alone doesn’t bring me to orgasm. Don’t get me wrong, I like being fucked
very much. Having a man inside you, being penetrated, is a wonderful
sensation. But I have to supply some extra stimulation to my clit to reach
orgasm. But these two gentleman really did it for me. The younger one was
large enough that my clit rubbed the shaft of his cock with every thrust.
It felt incredible. And the older gentleman was just the right size for my
mouth. I could deep throat him with ease. So I had two men penetrating me
to their full length.

I wanted it to go on forever, but of course it couldn’t. The older man
came first. He was considerate and warned me, but I didn’t mind. I kept
sucking. I don’t mind the taste of semen, although he produced quite a
bit, more than I was used to. I gulped the cum down as fast as he could
spurt it out. Then he softened and slipped out of my mouth.

I would have been sad that this particular combination was over for the
evening, but that familiar tingling sensation in my legs didn’t give me
time to think about it. Again the wave hit and my brain circuited. All I
knew was pleasure.

When I could focus again, the younger gentleman was still pounding away,
but I could tell by his face that he wasn’t far from cumming himself. I
gave my hips a bit of a swirl and tried to clamp my pussy muscles down on
him, to milk his cock. It seemed to work, he gasped and groaned. I felt
him soften too and slip out of me.

The two men collapsed on either side of me, and we rested there a while,
not saying a word. They ran their hands along my body, and we gently
kissed. It was very nice.

I felt a third kiss on my forehead, and I opened my eyes, expecting to
see Celine, but instead it was Helene.

“I see that you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

“Yes, Celine was wonderful, the perfect selection. Thank you.”

“Well knowing what our members want is my job.”

“So, you arranged all this?”

“Only Celine. These gentlemen are members, like you. They weren’t part
of the plan, but that’s the wonderful thing about this club.”

“Well, thank you for everything anyway. You’re very good at your job.”

“But I am not working now.”

“You’re not?”

“No, and if you still have some energy left and perhaps you want to
thank me in a different way.”

I smiled. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Yes, I do.”

Helene smiled at my two companions, who got the hint and slipped away. I
was sorry to see them go. We had never spoken a word to each other, and I
didn’t even know their names.

Helene followed them to the door, and closed it behind the men as they

“I have particular tastes,” she said. “I only enjoy certain things.”

“You don’t like to be watched?” I said, guessing that was why she closed
the door.


“And you prefer women?” That much I had guessed earlier by the way she
had been looking at me.


“What do you like in particular?”

“I like to be taken by a woman. To be fucked hard.” She reached down
and picked up the large dildo that had been in the bag. “With something
like this. Can you do that for me?”

“Undress,” I ordered.

I lay on the bed as this prim, proper looking woman deliberately shed
her business attire. It wasn’t a striptease exactly, but it was exciting.
At that moment I finally understood why men like to watch women undress. I
had always thought it a necessary, but not particularly exciting,
preliminary step to sex, but the way that Helene slowly unbuttoned each
button and slipped out of each garment, got my juices flowing again. She
carefully folded each garment after she took it off, leaving them in an
organized pile on one of the chairs. The non-eroticism of every deliberate
motion she made was incredibly erotic.

She was a small woman, about 5′ 3″ and slender, but not skinny. She had
curvy hips, and when she took off her bra, I saw that she had firm, round
breasts, perfectly proportioned for her frame, topped with small, brown
nipples, the color of her hair.

When she was completely naked, the last thing to come off were her
glasses, which she carefully placed on top of the pile of clothes, she
undid the bun in her hair, shaking her head, to let her hair fall free. It
fell to below her shoulders, completing the transformation from schoolmarm
into sex goddess

I stood up. I picked up the dildo and the strap-on harness.

“Put it on me,” I ordered. I really didn’t know how to put it on, and
while I would have figured it out, it wouldn’t have been without a lot of
fumbling. I figured this would kill two birds with one stone with me being
dominant and having her put the strap-on on me.

Helene took the toy and the harness and slipped the dildo through the
ring in front and then fastened some snaps that held it firmly in place.
She then knelt before me, allowing me to step into the harness, then she
lifted it up to my waist and tightened the straps, taking care that the
harness was positioned just so. I realized at that moment that there was a
small nub on the inside of the harness that was now resting against my
clit. When I thrust in and out, it would give me pleasure as well.

Silently, Helene stood up and moved around my back. She embraced me,
placing her hands on my breasts and started kissing my shoulders and the
back of my neck. God! That felt good. Her hands roamed across my body as
she continued kiss the back of my neck, then she moved down, kissing along
the spine down to my ass.

Then I got the surprise of the evening. She spread my cheeks and
started tonguing my asshole. I squealed, partly out of surprise and partly
out of pleasure. It felt great. I’d never played with my ass before. I
had thought it was dirty and vaguely disgusting, but here was this woman
sticking her tongue up there, licking around the anus and thrusting in and
out. I spread my legs to give her more access.

I think I might have cum from that alone if she had kept doing it, but
Helene moved around to my front and started sucking my new cock. Of
course, I couldn’t feel anything, but it was sexy to look at.

“Is it lubed enough for you?” I asked.

Helene nodded without stopping her sucking.

“Okay, then on the bed.”

Helene gave me a questioning look.

“On your back,” I said, figuring out what she wanted to know.

She complied.

I moved to her, cupping her right breast with my left hand and placing
my right over her pussy. She shivered, but wasn’t all that wet yet. I
licked my fingers to get them wet and then ran them along her labia, which
slowly blossomed open at my touch. I alternated rubbing circles around her
clit with the rubbing along her lips until she was wet. Then I slipped a
gloved finger in to make sure. I leaned down suckling her breast while I
finger-fucked her. I was rewarded with some low moans from this gorgeous
woman. I was getting the hang of this girl-girl thing.

I moved my mouth up to her ear, nipping at her earlobe and whispering,
“now I’m going to fuck your brains out. Are you ready for that?”

In response she nodded and the muscles in her pussy clamped down around
my finger.

I removed my finger and positioned myself between her legs, pressing the
head of my new silicone cock against the entrance of her vagina. I pressed
forward and it slipped it. I stopped for a moment, and she moaned. Then I
shoved it all the way in. Helene yelped, her eyes opening wide, and an
almost maniacal smile coming across her face. She liked it hard.

It took me a few minutes to get the hang of using the strap-on. Going
slow was no problem, but doing it roughly took a bit of practice. For the
first time I gained an appreciation for the work that guys have to do
during sex. But soon I was pounding her hard, so hard that she kept moving
across the bed, and I had to keep pulling her back to me to keep the rhythm

That was frustrating. So I pulled out and flipped Helene over, rather
roughly–she smiled at that. She was lying face down on the bed, her feet
on the floor, and I entered her again from behind. No preliminaries, this
time, I just shoved. She yelled, but it wasn’t the safe word, so I kept
going. Pounding harder and harder until I just couldn’t go any harder.

Helene was biting her lower lip, and I could see her fingers digging
into the mattress. Then she let out a scream as her orgasm hit her. I
stopped my thrusting, just leaving the dildo in her–I could feel it
twitching as her pussy clenched and unclenched, milking it. That little
nub felt good against my clit–not enough to get me off, but definitely
getting me excited all over again as it kept rubbing me from her shuddering
as the last convulsions of her orgasm diminished. Then I slipped out of

I bent over her, kissing the back of her neck.

“Have you had enough, Bitch?” I wasn’t sure about using that last word,
but she trembled when I said it, so I think she liked it.

“No, mistress.”

“Would you like me to fuck you again?

“Yes please, mistress.”

Then I got an idea. She had given me a rimjob, so she was into anal

“Would you like me to fuck you in the ass?”

Helene gasped. “Oh yes, mistress, please.”

I peeled off those long, black gloves, grabbed a bottle of lube and
squirted some along the crack of her ass, and then rubbed it, making sure
the outside of her anus was slick, and making sure my fingers were
well-lubed in the process. Then I slipped the tip of my index finger into
her ass. She let out a gasp, and I could feel her sphincter tighten around
my fingertip. I let it sit for a minute until her anus loosened its grip a
bit, and then I pushed it deeper. To the second knuckle, and then all the
way. I started working my finger in and out.

“This is just a taste,” I whispered in Helene’s ear. “Just you wait
’til I start pounding your ass with this big dick of mine. Can you wait?”

“No, mistress.”

“Do you want another finger to help you get ready?”

She nodded.

I slipped my middle finger in too, and soon I was reaming her ass hard
with both. It was time.

I pulled my fingers out of Helene’s ass and poured lube onto the
strap-on. It was already pretty wet from the fucking before, but I figured
better safe than sorry. Despite my tough talk, I didn’t really want to
hurt her. I’d never done anything like this before, and for a moment I
didn’t really know the best way to take her. Then I got another idea.

I grabbed Helene by the hair, and pulled her head back. I kissed her
roughly and said, “You’ve been a good little bitch, so I’m going to give
you a choice. I’m going to fuck you hard in the ass–no choice in
that–but you can choose how you want to take it. Get in the position
that’ll hurt you the least.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

And with that she climbed up on the bed, on her knees, ass high in the
air, and her head down on the pillows. Before I climbed onto the bed, I
had an inspiration and picked up the pocket rocket vibrator, palming it.
Then I climbed up behind her and positioned the head of the dildo at her

I pushed, slowly but steadily. At first it wouldn’t go in, and I could
feel the base of the dildo pressing against my pussy. Then the head popped
in. Helene let out a little yell, and I stopped, like I had with my
finger, and let her anus get used to the girth of this rather large
strap-on. After a minute, I pushed some more. Another inch, and then I
stopped again. Then another inch and another stop. Finally I started
pushing steadily, still slowly, but without stopping. Helene moaned

Soon, I was buried in her ass all the way to the hilt. I had trouble
believing that this little woman could take that big dildo all the way, but
she had. I started thrusting in and out slowly. I gradually built up
speed until I was fucking her hard, not as hard as I had fucked her pussy,
but still pretty hard.

“Can you take more, bitch?”

Helene grunted in response, which I took to be a yes. I started
thrusting faster. That little bud felt even better on my pussy. Her ass
gripped the dildo tighter than her pussy had, giving it more friction
against my clit. I went even faster. Helene’s hand wandered to her pussy,
and she started rubbing her clit.

I could tell she was at the verge of orgasm, so I suddenly pushed her
hand out of the way and applied the pocket rocket to her clit. I’ve never
heard a woman yell so loud, and she went over the falls. She bucked so
hard that she pushed the strap-on out of her ass, and it was all I could do
to keep the vibrator against her clit. She convulsed. I mean she really
went into convulsions. For a moment I was scared that I’d really done
something to her. Then her hands pushed the pocket vibrator away from her,
she could take no more pleasure. She lay there heaving, tears streaming
down her cheeks.

I leaned over and kissed her.

“Are you all right, Helene?”

She smiled and nodded, not yet capable of speech. But she didn’t lay
there long.

“You haven’t cum,” she said to me.

“Earlier I did, but not with you.”

She unbuckled the strap-on and dove down onto my pussy, sucking my clit
into my mouth. That little bud had gotten me worked up, and it didn’t take
long for Helene’s tongue to finish the job. My orgasm was nowhere near as
dramatic as Helene’s had been, but it was very satisfying.

We lay together for what must have been nearly an hour, kissing,
caressing, and holding one another. It was delicious.

Helene was the one who got up first. She kissed me again, stroked my
face gently, and told me that she really enjoyed herself, as if I couldn’t
tell from her last orgasm. She asked when I might be coming again, and I
told her I was in town for the weekend and would be back tomorrow. She
sighed, saying that she wasn’t working tomorrow, and while the club’s
owners didn’t mind employees occasionally staying late to indulge
themselves, they weren’t supposed to come there when they weren’t working.

After Helene left, I gathered my things, placed them in the bag, and
went downstairs to my dressing room. I took a shower and debated whether I
should sleep there for a few hours before I put on my street clothes, but I
figured I would probably be more comfortable at the hotel. I left the bag
and the toys in the dressing room and went out into the lobby. The staff
at the front desk, a rather large and burly man at this early hour in the
morning, called me a cab, and I went back to the hotel.

I woke a little before noon and ordered breakfast from room service.
Then I contemplated what had just happened to me. It was incredible. I
thought I had always been rather open sexually, and I knew that I hadn’t
done anything all that extreme. Lots of people have had same-sex
experiences, multiple partners at once, and played light dom-sub games, but
there’s a huge difference between knowing other people do these things and
actually doing them yourself. And of course few people have so many
first-time experiences in one night. I had jumped into the deep-end and
discovered that I was a good swimmer.

What really threw me was what I had discovered about myself. I had no
idea that I was something of a dom. Thinking about it, I probably
shouldn’t have been surprised. I always had sex on my own terms, picking
up guys and calling friends for booty calls when I wanted it. But I had
never tried to dominate anyone. But being in charge, really in charge,
definitely turned me on. And while I had done a little fooling around with
girlfriends and had told myself that I was up for more, I had never
seriously considered having sex with another woman. Now I had done it.
Not only that, I had liked it. A lot. I thought about that for a
while–seriously. At that moment I was really questioning my sexuality at
this point. But after a few minutes I realized that while I would happily
have sex with women in the future, maybe even going so far as to pick up a
woman who looked nice, I really was primarily attracted to men.

Then I thought about going back to the club that evening. There wasn’t
any question. I definitely was.

Then I remembered the bag and the mysterious person who had sent it. I
hadn’t thought about that since sometime when Helene was giving me the tour
of the club. Who the hell had sent it?

Having seen the club, I could rule out any of my friends. This club had
to be mega-expensive, and none of them could afford to join it, much less
give me a membership as a prank. The same went for most of the people at
work. While we’re all well paid, we’re not that well paid. There was
Cynthia, of course, but she would never do something like this. Even if
she was into kinky sex, she’d never take the risk with someone from work.

I thought about John and Keith, the two clients here in Montreal. John
was even a less likely candidate than Cynthia. Keith, however, was quickly
becoming the prime suspect. Then I remembered that yesterday John excused
himself from our meeting at one point to take care of something because
Keith was on vacation in the Caribbean. If Keith did this, he’d certainly
be in town to see the result. So I still had no clue who sent the bag.

I put the thought of who had sent the bag out of my head. It did not
good to dwell on the matter. The person would eventually reveal
themselves, and then I would deal with it.

I went out for a few hours to play tourist and check out the city.
Montreal is a great city, and I would enjoy coming here, even without
considering the Club Sans Limites. But I cut the tour short in the late
afternoon and headed back to the hotel for a nap and then a light, room
service dinner. I wanted to be ready for action that evening.

Around eight I called the club and said I would be coming by at ten, and
to please have my things ready for me. The man who answered the phone was
very pleasant and said it would all be ready when I arrived. Then I spent
the next two hours in nervous expectation. Finally it was time and went
downstairs and caught a cab to the club.

Going into the club seemed different this time. Of course the it looked
the same. The staff at the front desk, a handsome young man who I would
have been glad to pick up in a bar a week ago and a nice-looking young
woman who I’d now gladly pick up after last night, were friendly–although
not as friendly as Helene had been, but then she was a special case. But I
was more confident. I knew what to expect, or at least I had a reasonably
good idea what to expect. I knew that I was still in for some surprises.

When I got to my dressing room, the bag and all its contents had been
cleaned and were laid out for me. I thought about just going naked, but
decided I should have some kind of sexy accoutrements. I decided to forgo
the body harness and gloves, but I put on the leather collar and boots, and
again I tied my hair back in a ponytail. That had worked well last night.
Then I picked up my strap-on and my bottle of lube, leaving the vibrators
and other toys behind as too much to carry, and walked out into the club.

It was more crowded tonight. There were four couples scattered about
the floor of the main room, engaged in various activities. And there was
one threesome in the middle, where a woman was tied down over the horse.
One man was spanking her, and another was teasing her mouth with his cock.
That looked promising, but I decided to make a round before committing to

I walked upstairs. Only three rooms were occupied with open doors. An
older couple was fucking in one. Another, the room I had been in last
night, had two women toying with a man who was tied spread-eagled to the
bed. That looked like fun, but I really wanted some cock tonight, and
three women in one room would be a bit much. The third had a well-muscled
guy sucking another guy’s cock. I stayed and watched that for a while, but
no invitation to join them was forthcoming, so I moved on, a little
disappointed but appreciative of the eye candy they had given me.

I looked over the balcony at the people downstairs. The couples all
seemed pretty engrossed in one another. So the threesome in the middle
looked like the best bet for my first fun of the evening. I went down and
approached them.

I stood a few feet away, strap-on and harness in hand, waiting to see if
they wanted more company. I looked at the man who had been spanking the
woman, and who was now giving her a rimjob and realized that he was the
most drop-dead gorgeous man I had ever seen. In his late-thirties with
brown hair that was just starting to go gray around the temples, strong
jaw, and chiseled features. His body was toned, without being aggressively
muscled, tapering from broad shoulders to a slim waist and a cute butt.
And, best of all, from the bulge in his leather g-string, which was the
only thing he was wearing, he was very well-built down there too.

The woman looked attractive, although she was facing away from me, and
since she was bound and lying face down over the horse I couldn’t see her
well. She looked a bit older, fortyish maybe, with short, dark brown hair.
She was wearing a leather bustier, garter, fishnet stockings and high

The other man was quite good-looking too, but suffered in comparison. A
bit younger, he was also blond and thinner, attractive, but not as
aggressively masculine and oozing testosterone as his male companion. He
had stopped teasing the woman with his cock, and now she was sucking it.
He looked at me, smiled, and waved me over.

“I’m Alan. I have two playmates here,” he said. “If you’d like to play
with George for a while go ahead, while I get Cynthia ready. She likes a
triple stuffing.”

I looked down at the woman and suddenly realized she was my Cynthia. My

Cynthia stopped sucking just long enough to smile and say, “Hello,
Jenny. I’m glad to see you enjoying your membership.” Then she went back to
sucking Alan’s cock.

I guess I knew all along that it had to have been Cynthia who gave me
the membership, but knowing something in your bones and suddenly being
faced with the fact are two different experiences. I couldn’t respond.
Nor could I process what this all meant.

I just stared. It was Cynthia all right, but I’d never imagined her
like this. I just watched, stunned, as she sucked Alan’s cock and George
rimmed her ass. She looked good, really good. It seemed like I stared for
ten minutes, but in actuality it probably wasn’t much more than thirty

I knew I couldn’t stand there gawking all night, so I walked over to
George, took him by the hair, made him stand up, and walked him over to
where Cynthia could see us. Then I made him kneel and shoved his face into
my pussy. George’s lips and tongue went right to work, first grabbing and
gently tugging at my labia, then his tongue sliding up between my nether
lips, and finally after a few minutes of this, after I was thoroughly wet,
he locked onto and started sucking my clit. He was a good pussy licker;
not as good as Celine had been last night, but still very good. All the
while Cynthia kept sucking Alan’s cock, but her eyes were locked on mine.

I was so intent on watching Cynthia, I almost missed the warning signs
of my impending orgasm. But I noticed the tingling in my legs at the last
moment and grabbed George’s shoulders for support as my first orgasm of the
night swept up through me. It was a nice one, but not overwhelming, but I
was just getting warmed up.

But I still needed some cock. I pushed George’s head away and knelt
down facing him. I kissed him and said, “that was quite pleasant, George.
I’d like to give you a reward for eating me so well. Would you like me to
suck your cock?”

“Yes, if it pleases you mistress.”

“It does. You have a very nice looking cock, and I want to know what it
tastes like. Stand up.”

George stood up, and pulled his g-string down, taking my first close-up
look at his penis. It was beautiful, some seven inches long, and nicely
thick. It was mostly erect already, with the head poking out of the
foreskin. I took it in my right hand, rubbing down the length of the shaft
and exposing the head completely. I knew it would feel fantastic inside of

I took a quick lick at the head, running my tongue along the hole,
catching a drop of salty pre-cum. Then I dove down, taking most of his
shaft into my mouth, and started sucking in earnest. I really like sucking
cock, and this was one of the nicest I had ever been presented with. After
a bit I switched up, pushing his penis up against his stomach, and tacking
the underside of the shaft, occasionally dipping down to take his balls in
my mouth.

All the while I kept glancing over to Cynthia. She was still watching,
but Alan had moved around and was fucking her from behind. I only wished I
weren’t so busy. I would have liked to watch them. But there would be
plenty of time for that.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to find out if George fucked
as well as the looked and tasted. I stopped sucking and laid back onto the
floor, pulling George down on top of me.

“Fuck me,” I commanded.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I could feel him rub the head of his cock against my labia, finding the
entrance to my vagina, then he pushed forward and entered me. It felt
wonderful as he filled me. He started thrusting back and forth, and I
wrapped my legs around his torso, matching his thrusts. We fell into a
rhythm almost immediately, as if we’d been lovers for years.

I looked over at Cynthia and Alan. He had unstrapped her from the horse
and had laid her on the floor next to me. He was now fucking her
missionary style too. I reached over and grabbed Cynthia’s hand. She
gripped mine back tightly.

It didn’t take long for George to bring me off a second time. This
orgasm was bigger. I don’t think I screamed–it was probably more like
load moaning. Five or six major contractions and then a lot of little ones
as George stopped his thrusting, holding his penis inside me. My vaginal
muscles kept tightening and loosening around his shaft. God, it felt good.
Then, slowly, he started thrusting again.

Then I had an idea. I don’t know what made me think of it. Maybe it
was because I was still holding the strap-on in my left hand. I’d never
given any thought before to pegging a guy before, but suddenly I wanted to
take this gorgeous man who was standing in front of me.


“Yes, mistress.”

“Do you like to be fucked in the ass?”

“Yes, mistress. Very much.”

I slipped off of him, letting go of Cynthia’s hand, somewhat
reluctantly, and stood up. I attached the strap-on and told George to
assume the position. He got down on his elbow and knees, ass high in the

I applied a generous amount of lube to the dildo, and then to the crack
of his ass, working one of my well-lubed fingers into his asshole in the
process. It was tight, gripping my finger so hard it almost hurt.

“Relax, I’ll go slow at first,” I told George. Then I worked a second
finger in, and started moving them back and forth slowly. George exhaled,
and his grip on my fingers loosened a bit. I moved my hand a bit faster,
keeping it up until could withdraw and insert my fingers quite easily. It
was time.

I positioned the head of my dildo at his anus and gently pushed forward.
There was a moment of resistance, then the head of the dildo popped in.
George gasped, then relaxed. I held it there a moment, and then started
pushing slowly deeper. One inch. Two inches. Then three. Soon I was
buried to the hilt.

I started thrusting in and out, slowly at first, but picking up speed as
I went. Soon I was slamming George pretty hard, but he didn’t seem to
mind, letting out a low groan of pleasure each time I drove the dildo back
deep into him. I reached around and grabbed his cock, giving him a
handjob. It was rather tricky at first to get the rhythm of both hand and
dildo working in sync, but I got it after a minute.

It didn’t take George long. He’d been building up to this all night,
and my stroking his cock sent him over the edge. He erupted all over my
hand. I kept stroking, but slowed my thrusts, eventually pulling out of
him. I shoved my hand in his face, telling him to lick his cum off it, and
he dutifully complied. I can’t describe the thrill of having this
beautiful man do whatever I said.

I looked over at Cynthia and Alan. I’d forgotten about them as I had
gotten busy with George. They had finished fucking and were watching us.

“Now, are you ready to be triply fucked?” Alan asked Cynthia.

“Yes, Master. If you desire it.”

“Now go prepare your fellow slave so he is ready for you. The faster
you get him hard, the faster you’ll be fucked.”

Cynthia crawled over and took George’s cock in her mouth and began
sucking. I moved over and sat next to Alan, watching the pair. I noticed
he was still hard. He evidently hadn’t cum, and he was slowly stroking
himself to keep himself that way. I reached over and took over that duty
as we watched. It was the least I could do for his sharing George with me.

“It won’t be long,” says Alan. “George has a rather short refractory
period. He’s ready to get back in the saddle in minutes. He’s really an
amazing fellow.”

“Are you lovers?” I asked.

“No. I mean we have played together on occasion, but neither of us is
really into other men. Usually we team up with another sub woman. We play
with Cynthia whenever she’s in town, but we’ve been looking for a dom woman
to join us regularly. She told us you were coming to town this weekend and
might be joining the club, so she arranged for us to meet.”

All the while we were talking I was getting my first good look at
Cynthia. The business attire I was used to seeing her in showed that she
had a nice figure, but it obviously covered up a lot. She is quite petite,
about 5′ 3″ and small framed, but she sported a very nice pair of breasts
that her business suits hid quite well. They were still firm and capped
with big pink nipples. She also shaved down there, completely. I wax and
keep my hair down there trimmed short, but I’d never thought of Cynthia
doing it, much less taking it all off. She really is a beautiful woman.

Alan and I continued chatting as I slowly stroked him to keep him hard,
but he was right. George was ready to go again in less than ten minutes.

Alan orchestrated this next phase of our session. He handed me another
strap-on that was identical to mine; it must have been Cynthia’s. I
exchanged it for the one that I had fucked George with, and once I had it
cinched up, Alan had me lie on the floor. He then grabbed Cynthia by the
hair and led her over to me.

“Fuck your friend for me,” he commanded her. And Cynthia lowered
herself onto my silicone cock. I was face to face with my boss for the
first time that evening.

Then Alan snapped his fingers, signaling to George. He pointed, and
George obediently moved behind Cynthia. A moment later she gasped. I
couldn’t see it, but he must have penetrated her anus with that rather
large cock of his.

Then Alan placed a foot on either side of my head and fed his cock to
Cynthia’s waiting mouth. This was the triple-stuffing that he had been
talking about.

Cynthia began to rock back and forth on my faux-cock as George thrust
into her, and with each forward thrust she engulfed Alan’s cock with her

I tried to match her movements by thrusting my hips in time, but
Cynthia’s hips and thighs kept me pinned to the floor; she was using me as
a base to steady herself. So there wasn’t much I could do but watch, but
it was quite a view. As I said, I couldn’t really see George, but
Cynthia’s body and movements were on full display for me. Her nipples were
hard as rocks, pointy as pencil erasers. Looking straight up I could see
her blowjob technique from below. It was an angle I’d never seen before,
watching Alan’s balls swing back and forth every time Cynthia thrust
against him.

I couldn’t get any sensations from Cynthia’s vagina against the dildo,
of course, but I could feel that little nub move back and forth against my
clit as she moved and with each of George’s thrusts. It felt good and was
getting me worked up, but it wasn’t enough to get me off.

Alan, unsurprisingly as he’d been building up to it all night, was the
first to cum. As he groaned, George stopped his thrusting for a moment,
allowing Cynthia a chance to milk Alan’s cock of the last drops of semen,
then Alan withdrew his rapidly deflating penis.

Cynthia looked down at me.

“You had better have saved me some of that cum,” I told her sternly.
She nodded yes in response, unable to speak with her mouth full.

I reached up and pulled her head down to mine, and we kissed for the
first time, transferring the salty goo into my mouth, and then back into
hers. We kept kissing, smearing the cum over our faces.

“You’d better clean that off me,” I said.

“Yes, mistress.” And Cynthia began dutifully licking the cum off my face
as George resumed his thrusting.

I tried kissing Cynthia again, but it was difficult. George was
thrusting too hard. So I just held her head in my hands as she ground
against my strap-on dildo and took each of George’s thrusts. I could tell
from her expression that she was about to cum, and a moment later she began
moaning and panting.

“Oh, God, God, uh, uh, uh, God.”

She quivered and shook. It was like an earthquake happening on top of
me. I heard George groaning too. He was cumming as well.

When George withdrew, Cynthia simply collapsed on top of me. I held her
tight until she stopped trembling. Then I brushed her hair back and
started kissing her. She didn’t respond at first, but after a few kisses
she started returning them, and we spent the next few minutes just holding
each other and kissing.

I realized that we were neglecting Alan and George, so I broke the kiss
and looked around for them. They were sitting on a nearby couch, watching
us and smiling. Two other women were with them, watching as well. I
looked around and realized a small crowd had gathered to watch, but was
breaking up and the people were getting back to whatever activities they
had been engaged in before. I gathered that the four of us had put on
quite a show.

I motioned to Cynthia, and the two of us crawled the short distance to
where the two men were sitting. I thanked them and we kissed. But they
seemed comfortable with the two women who had joined them and looking for
some new adventure, so I promised to ask the club to tell them the next
time I was in town.

I took Cynthia by the hand and led her away, picking up the other
strap-on as I left. I wanted some time alone with Cynthia. I didn’t know
if she wanted more sex that night, but I needed to talk to her. We went
upstairs to an empty room, and I closed the door behind us.

“What would you like me to do, Mistress?” asked Cynthia as I unstrapped
the dildo that was still around my pelvis.

I told her that the role play was over for now, and that I wanted her to
join me on the bed. We lay down and just looked into each other’s eyes for
a few moments. Finally I spoke.

“I can’t believe you bought me the membership to this club. How did you
know I would take to it.”

“Well, I don’t know what I find harder to believe, that I actually
screwed up the courage to do it, or that you followed through and came
here. But I had my suspicions that you might be a bit kinky.”

“Well, I had no idea. Before this the kinkiest thing I’d done was a
little mutual masturbation with a girlfriend. I’ve been pretty vanilla. I
was happy with my sex life, but after these two nights, I see there’s a
whole nother world of things for me to try. But the last thing I expected
was for you to be into it, especially as a sub. You’re so commanding and
charging at work.”

“I guess the sub thing is a release,” she said. “You can’t be in charge
everywhere. It’s too exhausting. To let go and have other people tell me
what to do is relaxing for me. And I’m so exciting that you’re a dom.
We’d have fun together regardless, but that’s just perfect.”

“Do you do this at home too?”

“Not so much. I try to keep my play a few hundred miles away from home
so no one finds out. But there are few discreet couples I play with
sometimes. I’ll introduce you. And now, of course, I’ve got another
friend to play with at home. That is, if you want to, of course. Our
professional relationship won’t change one bit regardless, and we’ll still
be friends even if you don’t want to play.”

“Oh, I definitely want to. I want to explore my bi side more, although
I’m pretty sure that I’m mostly into guys.”

“Me too. I’ve got a strong bi streak and really enjoy women,” she said.
“But I couldn’t live without a good stiff cock.”

It was weird to hear her talk like this. But I could get used to it.

She told me that she had gotten me a three-year membership to the
Montreal club. Club membership fees were usually non-refundable, but she’d
worked a deal with the club to get a refund for most of it if I had refused
it. She also admitted to arranging for Helene to take special care of me
on my first night.

“What have you discovered about yourself?” she asked.

“Oh, God. Like I said, I’ve discovered that I’m a bit bisexual, but
there’s just something about muscles and a hard cock that I can’t do
without. I think I kind of knew I wanted to play around with women,
though, at least in some recess in the back of my brain. But the dom thing
came out of nowhere. I had no idea that was lurking underneath my skin. I
really get off on telling people what to do.” She smiled again.

I leaned in and kissed her again. Cynthia was irresistible when she

“Are you up for a little, gentle, vanilla love making?” I asked.
“Vanilla is one thing I haven’t tried here yet. Is it allowed here?”

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t”

She kissed me again, and I rolled onto my back pulling her on top of me.
She then slipped down and took my left breast into her mouth. I just
leaned back and let her take me, too tired to keep playing the dom. After
a few minutes of playing with my left nipple, getting it nice and hard, she
switched and did the same to the right. I love to have my nipples played
with, they’re so sensitive. But all too soon she journeyed south, stopping
to tongue my navel for a few moments, then on to my pussy.

She gave me several minutes of delicious frustration as she kissed the
inside of my thighs and mons, and as she sucked my labia into her mouth,
doing everything except touch my clit. When she finally clamped her lips
around my bud it was a blessed relief.

After a few minutes of just lying back and enjoying, I asked her to
swing around on top of me again, and we settled into a sixty-nine.

Cynthia’s pussy was sweet and it didn’t take long for both of us to rock
into another orgasm. I was the first to go over the falls, and when I
recovered and returned to my duties Cynthia followed soon afterwards.

We held each other for a while, and then headed downstairs to the
showers and back to the hotel. Cynthia was staying in another hotel, but
she spent the night with me in mine. It was the first of many nights that
we would be together.