Subject: The Club by Madame Kay
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 1996/08/11
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

			       The Club
				  by
			      Madame Kay

	"Welcome Madam Kay, we are very happy to see you, place take
your seat here next to me at the place of honor. It is going to a
honor to have you succeed me as the Chairman."

	"Thank you, Klux. Its been a interesting twenty years since I
first heard of the Game and became one of the players. It's sort of
amusing when I think back of my experiences and all the close friends
I've made here."

	I look about the large room. It is modeled on an Medieval
refectory, with natural stone walls, rough plastered allowing the
underlying stones show through in places. The ceiling, twenty feet
above us is beamed and ornately carved. The floor is well worn
polished stone. The room is lit only by candlelight, casting long dark
shadows on the walls and floor, dark iron sconces on the wall and gilt
bronze candelabra on the table.

	The long Seventeen Century refectory table is surrounded by
twenty carved Dante chairs covered in rich dark blue velvet. If I
didn't know that it was located in one of the warehouse that we use to
stage many of our plays, I would think that I was having dinner in a
Seventeenth Century castle or manor house. Except for the people, none
of who were in period apparel. Most were dressed in black tie or in
case of the women in long gowns.

	I was wearing a silk brocade designer gown,that had been
devised to show off my still magnificent body to its best advantage.
It has a deep scoop neckline that exposes my deep cleavage and my
breasts, stopping just short of my pink areoles. The waist is very
tight to show off my small narrow waist and the contrast between it
and my enormous tits and wide hips. The skirt was a cross over that
opened up to the waist. A small hook prevented it opening past my
thighs when I wore it on the street. As soon as I entered the dining
room, I unsnapped the hook so that it could open it from the waist
down and completely bear my legs and cunt. I had been at Board Dinners
before.

	Their was always a few mouth slaves under the table to turn on
the members of the Board during the dinner and the speeches. It
certainty prevented any boredom.

	The servants were of course, completely nude as were the body
slaves that had accompanied each Board member. My body slave Janet,
knelt behind my chair, naked, her body devoid of all its hair. Her
legs were wide open, her back erect, thrusting her immense breasts out
above her elongated and taut waist. A large gold ring dangled from the
base each of her long thick erect nipples. Her long hair was pulled
back and up into a wide gold ring at the top of her head. The
resulting top knot descended to the center of her muscular back. I had
forbidden her to have it cut or trimmed since I had acquired her eight
years ago.

	I looked back at her and smiled, she was so beautiful and
lithe.

	I thought of our two children and became missy eyed for a
moment. It had been a wonderful twenty five years.

	It all started with the "Nine Steps".

	I was nineteen when I first came out to California from Iowa.
My reasons were simple, I moved to San Francisco because I couldn't
take Des Moines any longer. Even today, there's not a whole lot a gay
kid can do in Iowa. I figured, I'm pretty good looking, midnight black
hair, smoldering hazel-green eyes, small delicate features, some say
my face resembled Rebecca DeMorey. My body had and still have a smooth
swimmers build with large firm tits, a tight ass, slim long waist and
long legs. Most of the boys in school thought I was the ultimate sex
object. But boys were not my thing. In fact, in high school I was
Captain of the girl's swim team.

	What a great way to see lean and hard girl's bodies,
especially in the showers and locker room.

	I had only two lesbian experiences in Des Moines and both were
sort of sleazy, besides my fantasies were a little strong for the
girls of Iowa. Anyway, I thought I'd do better in the Gay Capitol of
the world, at least I could probably find someone with similar
yearnings and desires.

	I got a job working in a large private investment bank as a
trainee.

	I'd been there about a month and had begun to make friends
with the other guys and girls in the various departments. They knew I
was gay, as I didn't hide my proclivities. Thank God for San
Francisco.

	One afternoon the boss, who I thought might be a dyke, because
of the severity of her demeanor and dress, walked by my desk, dropped
a business card on my desk and told me she thought I'd be interested.

	The black card read in blood red print, "GAMES - The Ultimate
Experience," and gave a phone number. I put it in my blouse pocket and
didn't think much about it for the rest of the day.

	When I got home that night, as I did every night, I stripped
to do my exercises. The card fell out of my blouse pocket and I picked
it up and put it on my dresser. I stepped in front of the full length
mirror on my bedroom door and dropped down to do some push-ups. Like I
said, I like the way I look, and I like to watch myself during my
exercises. After twenty, I stood up and began doing some trunk twists.
Watching my firm and very large breasts, the underling muscles of my
chest and my solid stomach move and twist was exciting. I stopped and
began to pinch first one and then the other light rose nipple until
they were dark and stiffly sticking out almost an inch. I had spent
some time in one of those tanning studios, so my body was a uniform
light honey brown with no strap marks anywhere. I rubbed my hand down
the taut muscles of my abdomen, through my dark pubic hair and cupped
my cunt. By this time my clit was hard, erect and peaking out between
my plump cunt lips. I could feel it against the heel of my hand as I
cupped my pussy and let my forefinger spread my lips and penetrate my
now slick vagina. I pressed against my cunt with my palm while I
continued to finger myself for a few minutes.

	Finally, I turned away from the mirror and went to the
dresser, opened the top drawer and took out one of the leather straps
I kept there. I stepped back in front of the mirror. I tied one end of
the strap around my left wrist, pulled it behind my back and looped it
around my neck, and held on to the end with my left hand. I
repositioned myself so that it appeared that my right arm and hand
were someone else's, out of view. My mind raced with the fantasy I was
building. I was a prisoner, stripped, bound and being inspected by my
captor. My right hand tweaked my nipples, pulled on my clit and
slapped my pussy. In my mind I heard my captor's voice. "Ok, she'll
do, let's start the torture. We make her tell us all and then use her
body. Or maybe will keep her a sex slave."

	I pulled roughly on my pussy lips and a sharp pain shot down
my legs and up my belly. My cunt was oozing. In my mind I was taken
into a dungeon; hung suspended and spread-eagled, my breasts flattened
on my stretched torso, my cunt wide open and ready for my captors to
use.

	My right hand rubbed the dripping pussy juice over the head of
my clit and up and down my slit. In my fantasy my torturers started to
approach me, carrying whips and other implements of torment. I drew a
deep breath as my cunt shuddered, quivered and ribbon after ribbon of
sticky fluid dripped out and ran down the insides of my firm muscular
thighs.

	I let go of the strap and stood there, breathing deeply. I
removed the strap from my wrist and put it back in the dresser. While
I was still hot, I went in and showered.

	In shower I let the warm water flood over my body as I took an
oval bar of sweet smelling soap suspended on a rope, from the cold
water handle, and ran it up and down my silt until my pussy was
covered with a thick white foam. I then pressed the soap against my
slit until it pushed my labia aside and was swallowed by my hungry
cunt. I pushed it in with my fingers and then using the rope pulled in
and out until I was ready to cum. I finally popped it all the way out
past my swollen lips. I took a thick soft brush handle in my right
hand and worked in back and forth in my creaming hole while my left
cupped and rubbed my hardened breasts until I finally came. After
three or four organism, I leaned weakly against the wall and let the
warm water run over my body until I could stand erect. I took a french
shower head, switched it on and flushed out my pussy.

	Then I switched to cold water and let it cover my body until I
was calm and cool. I cupped my hard breasts and raised thick nipples.
I loved touching my hard body, I only wished that I had another woman
to adore and to adore me.

	As I began dressing, I noticed the card I had tossed on top of
the dresser. There was phone number to call. I thought a moment,
shrugged my shoulders and went over to the telephone. I dialed the
number. It rang once and a voice answered. It was a recording.

	You have reached Games, Level 1. If you are not
	interested in sexually explicit material, hang
	up now.

	Otherwise, Press 1.

	I shook my head in disbelief and pressed 1.

	You have reached Games, Level 2.

	If you are straight male, Press 1.

	If you are gay male, Press 2.

	If you are a straight female, Press 3.

	If you are a gay female, Press 4.

	I pressed 4.

	You have reached Games, Level 3, following are
	selections of sex fantasies, Press the number of
	the fantasy you desire.

	I shook my head again, wondering at the computer technology at
work.

	The voice droned on;

	For a romantic interlude, Press 1.

	For sex at the health club, Press 2.

	For S&M, Press 3.

	My heart jumped at this last entry, and I pushed 3 before the
voice could continue. My heart was beating faster as the voice
continued.

	"You have reached Games Level 4. If you do not
	want a fantasy that becomes reality, hang-up
	now. Otherwise press the number of the S&M
	fantasy of your choice.

	For bondage, Press 1.

	For spanking, Press 2.

	For torture, Press 3."

	My heart was beating really fast by this time. I reached down
with one hand and began rubbing my dripping slit. I pressed 3.

	This is Games Level 5, this is the last level
	before reality. If you do not want your fantasy
	to become reality, hang-up now, otherwise press
	the number of the reality you want to explore.

	For medieval torture, Press 1.

	For torture by terrorists, Press 2.

	For torture by the Inquisition, Press 3.

	For torture by the SS and Gestapo, Press 4.

	For torture by Police, Press 5.

	For torture by the Bikers, Press 6.

	For torture and enslavement in Rome, Press 7.

	For torture and enslavement in Old Arabia, Press
	8.

	For torture and enslavement in China, Press 9."

	The voice continued, but I was no longer listening, my mind
was racing with the fantasies described. I pressed 4.

	Please leave your phone number at the sound of
	the tone.

	A tone sounded and I gave my phone number. There was a click
and dial tone.

	I hung the phone up and went into the kitchen to get myself a
drink. Probably all bullshit I thought to myself. As I started to
drink the phone rang. My heart skipped a beat. I walked into the
living room and picked up the phone.

	"Is this 555-8888?" a low throaty voice asked.

	"Yes," I replied.

	"Did you just call Games?" the voice asked again.

	"Yes, I did," I answered.

	"Good, be at... " the voice continued describing an address
South of Market. I was told to be there at 11:00 that night. Then they
hung up.

	By this time I was shaking with a mixture of fear and
excitement. I looked at my watch. It was 8:00. I had three hours to
kill. I got my jacket and went out.

	I stopped at a small diner near where I lived and got a
sandwich. Then I hopped a bus for South of Market. I figured I'd kill
time by going to a couple of gay bars.

	As I kept checking my watch, the time seemed to move so
slowly.

	Finally it was 10:30. I left the bar I was in and began
walking to the address I had been given. It took about 25 minutes to
get there. I found myself in an area of warehouses South of Bryant
street. The street was empty. The address was a warehouse that was
closed. I stood around and thought it was probably someone's idea of a
joke. There were no lights on in the warehouse, or anywhere else on
the street.

	I looked at my watch. It was eleven. I looked up and down the
street. It was completely empty. I waited awhile and looked at my
watch again. It was Ten after Eleven. I sighed, it probably was a joke
I thought to myself. I shrugged my shoulders and started walking back
towards the bar I had left earlier.

	Soon after I had started walking, I heard footsteps behind me.
I stopped and turned to see who was following me. My heart jumped, and
I sucked in a quick breath. The woman I saw was dressed in a form
fitting black dress SS uniform.

	"Going somewhere, bitch?" she asked with a snarl.

	Before I could answer, someone else, behind me grabbed my
arms, pulled then back and pinned them against my back.

	"What the... " I started to shout, as the SS woman quickly
came up to me and stuffed a handkerchief in my mouth. I felt handcuffs
being closed around my wrists.

	"She's the one," the SS woman said, nodding to the unknown
person behind me. I was spun around to face another woman, this one in
a dark belted trench coat and soft black fedora. Now the SS woman held
my arms.

	"You're sure?" the trench-coated woman asked.

	"I'm sure!" I heard the uniformed woman reply.

	"Very well," the woman in front of me said matter of
factually.

	"let's take her in for questioning."

	I was hustled back to the warehouse. The SS woman produced a
key and opened the door. They pushed me through. It was dark and I
could see nothing. They continued to manhandle me through the
darkness. I heard a door opening, and I was pushed by whoever was
guiding me. All of a sudden the lights were on. I blinked at the
sudden brightness. As my vision cleared, and I looked around me, my
heart began to pound, and my nipples and clit began to harden.

	I was in a room that looked as I always imaged an
interrogation chamber would look. The walls were white painted rough
plaster with open beams across the ceiling. From both the wall and the
ceiling beams were hung a number of chains and open manacles. There
were dark brown stains on both the walls and the floor under the
manacles. As I turned my head I saw a St. Andrew's cross at one end of
the room. A strong table was in the middle of the room. At the other
end were two upright posts embedded in the concrete floor. All of
these had chains and shackles attached. The room was lit by bare bulbs
the hung from long dark wires.

	I was turned around by the woman in the trench coat. The woman
dressed in the SS uniform was standing by another table against the
long wall. On that table were whips, clothespins, clamps, and
implements whose purpose I could only guess at.

	"So," the SS woman began to speak, "you are in the Resistance.
Well resistance here will do you no good whatsoever." She smiled, and
picked up a small whip.

	"Here," she snarled as she hit the whip against the table, "we
have ways of getting beyond resistance."

	"Heddy," I heard the woman in the trench coat speak, "let's
not waste time talking. She's not going to cooperate. Let's just strip
her and get started."

	My clit and nipples were fully rigid now. I was breathing
heavily, in a mixture of fear and excitement. These were my deepest
fantasies coming to reality.

	"Very well!" the SS woman responded.

	"Don't think of trying to escape, there is no escape," she
advised.

	She walked over to me as the other woman released me from the
handcuffs. I stood there, silently in shock, as one of my fantasies
came to life, while they stripped me of my jacket, blouse, skirt,
panties and shoes.

	In a few minutes I was completely naked. They pushed me over
to the two upright posts and began securing my wrists and ankles until
I was spread-eagled between the two posts. I felt my legs and wrists
pulled apart as they tightened up on the chains until my body was
stiff and my muscles stretched.

	Then they stepped back and looked me up and down.

	"Not bad," one of them hissed. She walked back over to me and
began to rub her hand up and down my jutting breasts, stopping only to
twist and pinch my nipples between her strong fingers. I winced as she
dug a fingernail into one of my firm teats. She reached out and
grabbed my left nipple and pulled sharply. As it stretched and
elongated, I took in a sharp breath at the pain that engulfed my
breast. When she let it snap back, my nipples and clit became rock
hard as I took in a deep breath.

	"Hmm," she spoke softly, seeing my nipples fully hard and my
clit turn a deeper rose as it started to protrude from my pussy lips,
"she likes this."

	"Yes," the one in the SS uniform answered, "she seems to,
let's see how much torture she can take."

	They both walked over to the table of implements. The one in
the trench coat removed the coat and her dark soft hat. I could see
that she was strongly built. With massive breasts that budged under
her suit coat.

	"Let's get more comfortable," she addressed the one in
uniform, "this could take all night."

	Then both women began to take off part of their clothing. They
stopped once they had stripped to the waist. The one who had on the
trench coat was now only wearing a tight long black leather sheath
skirt that hugged her hips and shiny black leather boots that
disappeared under her skirt. The other was still wearing just her
uniform pants ticked into her knee length black dress boots. Both were
well muscled. The SS Officer was a little flat chested, more muscled
with a ridged stomach laced with hard muscles.

	She put her hands together in front of her waist and squeezed
one hand in the other. Her upper and lower arm swelled with powerful
muscles. The Gestapo agent had very large full breasts and was more
feminine, but still looked very tough. The one who was still wearing
the SS uniform pants picked up a small leather braided quirt and came
back towards me. The other sat back against the table to watch.

	As her skirt fell open, I glimpsed her long slim calves and
her strong thighs. As the skirt opened more I caught a glimpse of her
naked furred cunt. She wasn't wearing any panties. "My God," I
thought. "she had a shaved pussy."

	As the SS officer reached me, she raised the quirt as if to
strike. I closed my eyes and grimaced waiting for the blow. She
laughed, and let the quirt fall gently against my solid breasts. She
moved it slowly up and down my breasts, stopping to tease my nipples.
The feel of the leather softly caressing my tits was incredible. I
closed my eyes as the quirt slowly made its way down my stomach,
softly caressed my pussy lips and forced it way into my slit. My cunt
oozed.

	In an instant my reverie was shattered, and I screamed into
the gag as sharp pain exploded along the center of my slit. I opened
my eyes with a start, to see her bring the quirt down full force, once
again, against my pussy. She continued to whip my cunt for several
minutes.

	Each time the whip hit I bit into the gag. Soon tears streamed
down my face. I had fantasized about being tortured, but the reality
seemed more than I could bear. But, my clit and nipples stayed hard,
and liquid oozed more and more with each successive blow of the whip.
Then she stopped and walked back to the table of implements.

	I sagged in my bindings, breathing deeply. My eyes were
closed. My clit felt like it was on fire. I opened my eyes and looked
down. Along the my firm stomach and inner thighs there were angry red
welts. But the skin had not broken, and I was still excited.

	"You shouldn't be so gentle," the other woman chided. "Let me
show you how its done."

	With that she picked up a long leather thong and a small
package and walked towards me. When she reached me, she set down the
package and put her hand against my full breasts.

	"I like a full chest with nice soft skin," she commented as
she rubbed up and down my chest and abdomen. "A full pair not only
shows the marks so much better than a flat pair, but they bounce so
nice at each blow and it saves us the trouble of pumping them up with
either the whip or irritants."

	Then she reached down and took hold of my erect and protruding
clit and pushed it back into my hood. She drove her sharp thumb nail
in and twisted. "No, she smiled as I winced at the deep ache that
began to envelop my crotch. 'I think we wait for a little later to
start on your cunt. Let's see how much your tits can stand."

	With her hand, she began to wrap the leather thong around the
base of my left breast, pulling hard, forcing the leather deep into my
flesh and tightening it so that my tit bulged and was forced away from
my chest. It felt like she was trying to pull my tit completely off my
chest.

	When about thirty six inches remained of the leather thong,
she began to wrap it around first one and then the other of my
breasts, separating them. The base of each tit was wrapped for three
inches and bulged between the strands. Both the bases were compressed
and the rest of my tits were bugling. It felt like someone was putting
my tits into a vise. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

	"There, that should hold them nicely," she commented coldly.

	She reached down and picked up the package and opened it. I
could see that it was full of long thin sharp pins. My heart began to
pound with real fear. Was she going to jab the pins into my breasts? I
shook my head to attempt to say no, that this was too much. She only
smiled up at me.

	"Shaking your head no," she asked with mock surprise, "you
should have thought of that earlier. You had your chance not to join
the games."

	She selected a long and sharp pin. Grabbing my right breast
between her thumb and forefinger, and holding the pin with her other
hand, she began to prick me, slowly at first, and then faster and
faster. I began to move my head from side to side as the pain grew. It
was as though my tit was on fire. She moved to my left breast and
commenced the same effort. The minutes dragged on as she continued to
prick first one and then the other breast. I pulled at my restraints,
trying somehow to escape the pin. Both of my breasts were soon covered
with drops of blood. She smiled and began to break the skin of my
areoles with her pricks until both were red with my blood.

	She smiled again, looked at her partner and then began to
drive the pins deep into my breast until there were a dozen pin heads
protruding from my knockers. The she took a larger and thicker pin,
pulled on my still untouched nipple and drove the pin through the base
of my nipple until half of it stuck out of my nipple. Then she used an
other thick pin to bisect my other nipple. Pain surged from the tip of
my nipples to the base of my breasts. The pain started to get to me. I
took a deep shuddering breath and started to cum.

	"None of that," she hissed, as she reached over and grabbed my
clit, and began to prick the stem and head of my clit with another
pin.

	I bit into the handkerchief, it felt like my whole crotch was
being attacked by ants who were biting me and eating me alive. I
looked down to see droplets of blood ooze where the needle pricked the
skin. But my clit was still hard. In a few minutes she stopped and
stepped back.

	Again I sagged in my bindings. My juices still continued to
ooze from my cunt and run down my inner thighs.

	"You thought I was gentle," the SS woman laughed, "you're
practically kissing her clit and breasts with those silly pins. Lets
hang her up and try something else."

	With that, the bitch who had been torturing me, unwound the
leather thong from the base of my tits and pulled out the pins in my
breasts but left the two piercing my nipples and put away the bloody
pins. As the blood began to flow back in to breasts it felt as if two
clams were compressing my tits. She then took a bottle of clear fluid,
spilled a generous portion into her cupped hand and rubbed it all over
my tits.

	It burned as if they had been set on fire. "We don't want any
infection, you have to last a long time."

	The other one came up and they both untied first my ankles and
then my wrists. My arms were twisted behind me as they frog marched me
over to the other end of the room. They pulled a chain and padded
manacles down from one of the ceiling beams and attached them to my
wrists. Then they hauled up on the chains and my arms rose above me.

	They continued pulling until my toes were barely touching the
floor. My entire weight was being held by my arms and wrists.

	"More," the SS woman ordered.

	They pulled more until I was hanging free. My feet a foot or
more above the floor.

	"That's better! ," she said approvingly.

	"Let's swing her a little."

	With that both women walked over to the table of implements
and picked up wide leather covered paddles. They returned and stepped
behind me.

	I drew in a sharp breath as the first swat hit my ass. I swung
by my arms from the force of the blow. Another swat hit my ass, and I
bit into the gag. Blow after blow the paddles struck my ass and I
swung from each hit.

	"Lets see how high we can make her swing," I heard one
comment.

	The blows hit more quickly now and with more force. Tears
streamed down my face as my ass began to burn. Pain shot down the
backs of my legs.

	"Lets turn her!" one ordered.

	The blows now were aimed first at my ass, then my back, down
my legs. One of them came around to my front and hit my stomach. They
walked all around me swatting what ever part of me they fancied,
stomach, undersides of my breasts, back, ass, and finally my between
my legs. I swung around, backwards, forwards, from side to side as
each successive blow hit. Then they stopped and went back to the
table.

	"Lets go get something to drink," the SS woman suggested.

	"Ok," the other agreed and then turning to me said, "don't go
anywhere, we'll be right back," and they both began to laugh.

	"Wait," the SS woman said as they started to leave, "she looks
much to comfortable."

	With that, she picked up a handful of extra strong spring
clothespins and came towards me. She attached one to the tips of each
of my nipples, so the jaws bit in just over the pins bisecting my
nipples.

	Then she pinched each of my tits and attached four to each
side of my breasts and three to the each of my outer labia. A final
one decorated my stiff clit. The jaws of the clothespins bit
unmercifully into my tender flesh.

	"That's better," she said, and they both left the room.

	I hung there, my tits, clit and breasts on fire. My ass ached
from the beating. My tits were sore. Every time I took a deep breath
or move my body, the clothes pins vibrated and bit a little deeper.
But my clit never lost its hardness. I shook my head. This was what I
dreamed of, but now that it was happening, I wasn't sure I could take
it. What had happened had been bad enough. But they weren't through.
My mind raced with images of the possible tortures to come. I don't
know how long I hung there before they eventually came back. My body
was covered with sweat. My hair sticking to my back.

	"Still here," one chided as they entered the room.

	"You know," commented the SS woman, "she's smooth, but not
smooth enough."

	"You're right, a slave shouldn't hide anything from her
owners," the other responded.