Amsterdamned

Authors Note: My first submission to Literotica, a story I wrote for the purpose of uploading, was something I impulsively went to delete this afternoon, but hesitated upon reading a comment and seeing the votes, so I decided to submit another.

This is my second submission here and this is a story I began writing a while ago but like most of my stories, I lost interest and moved onto other things. If it is well received, I may continue it.

This is more of a beginning to an erotic novel, which I had hoped to expand and develop in time, exploring more of this "futuristic" world where BDSM is more prevalent, without being unrealistic.

As with my other submission, please feel free to provide constructive criticism or comments or feedback, as I am very interested in what people think of it.

Kind Regards,

Cwtch

Chapter One: Introductions...

Amsterdam hadn't changed much in a hundred years -- same business just catering to different needs. Jack didn't know personally, of course, he wasn't

that

old but he had a keen interest in history and had read plenty about the last century. Apparently, back then, there was a canal running through the middle of the street and women would stand in windows, provocatively beckoning you.

He looked around and tried to imagine the scene, the street busy with groups of guys, leering through windows, the river glittering red, reflecting the lights illuminating the women. He sighed; it was a lot different now.

The river had gone and been filled in, the street extended into a square. Many of the scenes were open air, to cater to the exhibitionists, but with many dark corners to cater to the voyeurs. There were some buildings that were closed off for privacy but these were the few scattered around the edge of the square, like some sort of barrier.

BDSM was now the predominant basis for Amsterdam and had, over the past hundred years, become a lot more socially acceptable and the majority had shifted in favour of the scene, vanilla sex having now become the sexual preference of the minority.

This is not to say that BDSM was everywhere, not everyone was into the scene 24/7. Many people still only practiced occasionally, or just in the bedroom. There aren't many couples that have the desire to live the life full time, as well as the time and resources.

Jack had never visited Amsterdam before but he had heard much about it. The etiquette of the scene had developed well with the growth of popularity in alternative sex which allowed a majority of the women to walk around freely in the square, scantily clad, a few wearing no more than ankle and wrist cuffs.

There were several different areas in the square. Open shower blocks for scat and water sports, a large nursery for age play, a stable for pony play, a "hospital" for medical play, a few dungeons and dotted around the square were several suspension rigs and stocks for restraint and bondage. There were also many "weapon racks" located around the square, sporting canes, floggers, whips, clamps and other assorted gear.

It was easy to spot the working girls, as it was compulsory to wear a simple black leather collar with the word "SLUT" in stainless steel, as well as cuffs. Some of these girls were paid to clean the equipment after use, some maintained the cleanliness of the area and others were available to hire for use.

Every working girl had a generic safe word and the square masters would walk around, ensuring everyone stuck to the few restrictions that were in place; no cross-contamination between scenes, no hygienically questionable play outside of designated areas and, of course, play is to end if a safe word is called.

Chapter Two: Love at first slight...

Jack had been conversing with many of the women walking about. A lot were friendly, none were as pushy as the history books indicated they used to be, unless they were mistresses or masters, but even they were polite at first.

One girl had caught Jack's attention. He glanced her up and down -- the first thing he noticed was the cuffs and collar, indicating she was a working girl. Along with these, she wore thigh high white stockings and what appeared to be a blue petticoat.

Her long brunette hair cascaded down her back, actually highlighting her figure. She was petite but healthily so. Her breasts seemed larger that they should be but that could've just been the petticoat, and her legs were infinitely long. But the one thing that attracted Jack to her more than anything was her smile -- her fun, bubbly nature.

Jack had spent a lot of time talking to her on her fleeting visits, in between trying to attract a customer. Originally Jack had come with the intention of just looking but over the past two hours, he had been working up the courage to proposition her. Of course she wouldn't say no, his money was as good as anyone else's but that didn't make him any less nervous.

Eventually, he caught her eyes across the square and beckoned her over. He glanced away quickly and turned back to her to see her approach. Unfortunately, there was no approach. She had been intercepted by another customer, a regular who paid very well and had no choice but to go with him.

Jack scanned the square for her and finally located her kneeling in front of a man, her customer. He was deep in conversation with one of the masters, probably negotiating a rate. This gave the girl and opportunity to look at Jack and as their eyes met, she shrugged and frowned, clearly indicating an emotion of disappointment and resign.

Jack watched as the man picked the girl up by the hair, the master now leaving, and turning her around. He tore away her petticoat and with the cuffs, he attached her to a large wooden X, exposing her front and leaving her helpless.

Jack looked on as the man quickly picked up a flogger and instantly started whipping her violently. Jack was shocked at how suddenly the man had started and with the intensity with which he began. Jack could see a conflict in the girl, between body and mind. The tears rolling down her eyes indicated she was in a great deal of pain but her erect nipples confessed her excitement.

Jack assumed this was part of the play, since many people were excited by tears, and began to admire the girls breasts, ample and pert yet obviously real. It was clear her breasts accentuated the petticoat, as opposed to the opposite.

Jack looked at the man and paused, stunned. He saw no care in the man's eyes, no excitement, only a desire to inflict pain. Her tears were real and, to him, a side effect of his urge to hurt. The man was clearly a true sadist.

For a moment, Jack wondered why the girl did not yell her safe word before instantly cursing his stupidity. She was being paid a handsome amount for this and if she called stop now, not only would she lose his money but likely his custom, and possibly the custom of others. But this was not something he could tolerate.

Jack walked over to the man and as he lifted his arm for another swing, Jack gripped his wrist.

"That's enough," said Jack. The man looked Jack up and down; he was quite average -- about 5'10, slight with blue eyes and dark blond hair and tiny amounts of white-grey in the hair above his ears. Jack didn't need to size up the man, he had already done that - violent, stupid, sadistic, uncaring and egotistical.

"It's enough when I say it enough, since when is this slut your whore?" The man said aggressively, as he started to pull his hand out of Jack's grip. In that moment, Jack lifted his other hand and placed it on the man's, twisting his wrist giving him the option to resist and end up with a broken wrist or to fall to the floor.

As the man hit the ground, Jack stared down at him,

"Since forever" smirked Jack, "but I only just realised". Jack turned his back on the man and untied the girl, catching her before she fell to the floor in a combination of exhaustion and pain.

This spectacle had gathered quite a lot of attention and three masters were staring at Jack harshly, waiting to see whether he would try and stay. Jack knew this wasn't an option and made his way to the car, the girl in his arms, the crowd separating for him, the masters not even trying to stop him -- it was obvious he only had good intentions. Chapter Three: An offer you can't refuse...

Opening her eyes, she was greeted by two immensely deep blue iris' staring back at her. They moved away so that she could focus on the whole picture and she instantly recognised the face of the man she was talking to.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes squinting from the confusion.

"Your customer didn't know when to stop, so I helped him learn where the line is".

She was puzzled for a moment before looking around and seeing a large, plush bedroom. Her eyes widened as realisation of the incidents had dawned on her, with flashes of memory before she blacked out.

"You bastard!" she yelled angrily as she sat up, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks reddening, "who the fuck are you to interfere with my job? Not as if I have a job any more! Now what the fuck am I going to do?"

"Please, calm down." It wasn't as much of a request as an order and his calm, deep tones actually managed to suppress her anger, as much as she tried to fight it, to fight him.

"I couldn't allow that to continue, it was inhumane."

"Oh, I see, you have some sort of saviour complex then."

"No, I just hate to see a beautiful woman being subjected to that sort of pain... At least, not without consent."

"I

did

consent!"

"No, you accepted, there's a difference." How the hell does he know? What makes him think he's so fucking right? It's just about time I leave, I have to try and grovel to get my-

Her thoughts were cut off by his hands being placed gently on her head, either side of her warm face, softly drawing her gaze back to his.

"Trust me". And she did. She didn't know why but she did.

"Trust doesn't magically fix things."

"Sometimes things don't need to be fixed, they need to be thrown away and something new needs to replace it."

"Oh, fuck you, you pretentious bast-"

Again her words were cut short, this time by the movement of one hand from her face to her hair. His fingers bunched up, making a fist, tightly gripping her hair, pulling her head back. She looked down her nose at him yet, for some strange reason, she wasn't scared. She still trusted him.

"That's enough. After talking yesterday I felt something with you. Something I've never felt with anyone before. I'm not going to force anything on you and I'm not saying things will work out but you need to give me a chance. Before you make any decision about grovelling for your job, walk with me."

He pulled her to her feet with the hand in her hair and began to lead her. Occasionally she would stumble but he'd quickly catch her with his free arm and help her to regain her footing.

He could tell she was scared as her body quivered softly. He could also see she was strong, as she forced her muscles to relax to minimize the obvious signs of fear. Her eyes darted around as he led her down a flight of long, curving, elegant stairs. He led her to the front door, a large, dark wooden double door.

Once at the front door, he released his gripped in order to open the door for her. He then motioned for her to go before him. Taken aback at this, she paused before looking outside and walking through the doorway.

He followed her out and offered to her his arm. She took it politely and as she rest her hand on his forearm, he led her forward, down a few steps before turning her.

"This is my house," He stated, pausing to give her an opportunity to inspect the exterior.

The house was large and elegant. It could have been two houses with the dividing wall demolished and the interior converted into one. It was three floors tall and shone brightly as the sunlight reflected off the white paint.

It reminded her of that white house place she had learnt about in school, where the president of the USA used to live. He watched as her head delicately turned to take in the grounds around her; acres of land surrounded the house and there were two cars on the large drive, as well as a motorcycle.

"Whom do you live with?" she asked, her voice quiet and timid, revealing her awe.

"I live alone. I bought this house after a large inheritance was left to me. Combined with a substantial income, it is maintained by a few maids who come to clean on the weekend. I also employ a cook and a part-time driver."

She pulled her arm away quickly and he knew he shouldn't have emphasised his wealth to someone who made their living selling their body. He cursed his mistake as she turned to him, nostrils flaring once again.

"I see! Mr. Big Spender thinks he can gets anything he wants just by flashing some cash, taking anything he desires and expecting-"

This time her sentence wasn't cut short by him. A gentle breeze flowed over them and she felt her nipples harden. Looking down, she realised she was still naked, bar the stockings. Blushing, she quickly covered up.

"Lets go inside, I have a dressing gown you can borrow and I'll make us some tea."

Following him in, he led her to the breakfast room. Disappearing, he returned with a thick dressing gown and a cup of coffee. She quickly wrapped herself in the dressing gown, passing off a small 'thank you' before accepting the coffee.

"Please don't underestimate me," he said, lecturing, "Whilst I may choose to live in elegance, I tend to be very modest about my wealth. I don't bring just anyone back here and I don't think I'm better than anyone else, unless they prove themselves to be below me."

"Like me?" her nostrils began to flare again.

"Like your customer. People with no decency, people with no goodwill, people with no friendliness - the people who are your lesser as much as mine. Now the choice you have is this; go back and grovel for your job, I will provide transport back there, or give things a chance her and see how you fare. If you choose the latter, there is no obligation to stay but please remember, whilst I try to be a gentleman and offer my kindness to you, I am also more than capable in providing you with what you desire."

She looked at him, her eyes growing intense with curiosity and outrage. She hoped her glare would have an effect on him but his face remained expressionless other than a faint smile.

"And how the fuck do

you

know what

I

need?" she said, trying futilely to demonstrate her independence and her strength.

He walked towards her and gripped her hair once again. This surprised her to the extent that she dropped the coffee cup, breaking the mug on the tiled floor and spilling coffee everywhere but this didn't even faze Jack.

He started to lead her out of the room but as she began to walk, she felt downward pressure increasing on her neck until, unable to withstand any more, she fell to her knees. Jack continued to lead her as she now crawled along side him. He led her through to the sitting room, which, much like the rest of the house, was well decorated with plush furniture and ornaments. He walked to the long, red leather couch and sat down, pulling her up slightly before placing her over his knee.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she yelled, trying to fight back, flailing wildly, but his grip on her hair was firm and he manage to hold her head down effortlessly. He hooked one leg around the back of hers, preventing her from kicking, and lifted her dressing gown.

He took a moment to stroke her firm, rounded backside, drawing circles with the palm of his hand. Her cries and protests now filtered from his hearing, he tapped lightly with his palm before lifting it and bringing it down with a light

smack

.

She yelped in exclamation but he continued for a few minutes regardless. By the time she had received twenty slaps on each cheek, her ass was a warm red glow, much like her face. He cries and protests had stopped and she awaited the next smack.

His hand drew circles once more, his tough palm soothing the throb in her ass. Suddenly, she felt his finger part her cheeks, brushing lightly over her hole before moving further down to her pussy. His run one finger along it, from her clit to her ass and smiled as copious amounts of her juice gathered on his middle finger.

Pulling her head up, he smeared her juices over her face as she gasped, shocked at his actions but more so at how wet she obviously was. He forced her to her knees in front of him and she could feel her juices slowly make its way down her thighs.

"Now tell me this isn't what you desire."

She was silent. She has been spanked, stroked and humiliated by a man whose name she didn't even know and no words could find her lips, her only focus was on her intense need to sit back, finger fuck her cunt and cum right now.

She resisted. Barely.

"If you go up the stairs and turn left, you'll find the second door on the right adequate if you wish to sleep here for the night whilst you consider your options. The other alternative is for me to drive you home."

Still in stunned silence, she decided that she couldn't wait to get home to cum. Literally. She didn't know how far it was but she couldn't wait that long. She stood, attempted to compose herself and headed for the stairs.

Jack gave her two minutes before following her. He knocked on the door and, after some ruffling, heard a waned voice give him permission to enter. Opening the door, he saw her lying in bed, the dressing gown on the floor. The duvet was pulled with one arm up to her neck but he could tell where the other arm was.

"When you have made your decision, you can find me around the house. Just call and I'll hear you."

"Okay" she replied, timidly.

"Oh, and on the off chance that you decide to stay, make sure you haven't cum when you see me next."

She looked slightly shocked

Jack went to shut the door and just before closing it, spoke a final few words: "By the way, I'm Jack, it's a pleasure meeting you..."

"Samantha."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Samantha".

Click.

The door shut tight and Jack made his way downstairs, leaving Samantha to her own devices. Chapter Four: Induction...

Samantha hadn't left her room all night. She had been considering what her next move would be, toying with the idea of staying with a man whom she had known for maybe three or four hours and grimacing at the concept of returning to her job.

She got up and put on her dressing gown. Opening the door, she paused as she saw the tray in front of her. She picked it up and walked back into the bedroom, placing it on the dresser and lifting the lid to see a full English breakfast, along side some toast and a two small ceramic containers, one holding butter, the other jam. A glass of orange juice complimented the feast.

She quickly ate and then glanced at the clock. 10am. She hadn't slept all night yet she still wasn't tired. She left the tray where it was and made her way downstairs, seeking the kitchen in order provide a fix for her caffeine addiction.

As she walked past the breakfast room in search for the kitchen, she heard his voice call out to her. Following the voice into the breakfast room, she saw the coffee pot on the table with two cups either side of it. He poured one for her and motioned for her to sit.

Over coffee they talked about nonsense, the weather forecast, the news and she apologised for breaking his mug.

"So," he said. She knew where this was going and a knot hit her stomach, instantly causing her to regret the second cup of coffee, "Have you made your decision?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I... uh... if I can... I'd like to go home."