Hit

Hit 03

Kidnapping is against the club rules

Arriving early Pete and Josie called in at a cafe for a coffee. They browsed the menu but were too nervous to eat.

"It's open but I don't fancy being the first in there," Pete mused.

"Yea, I hate being first at a party," Josie added. She looked at him wondering if he was as nervous as she felt. It was their first time to such a place and the challenge of facing the unknown was daunting. She appreciated he was thinking up challenges to keep her interest but wanted to tell him not to bother.

He was always so much under control it was difficult to fathom what he felt or thought. It left her with a sense of freedom and was partly the reason she stayed. She watched him staring out of the plate glass window; he seemed to be watching the evening streets darken. She wondered if the big old hunk of a man was in love with her for she was falling for him and that was usually enough to find her packing.

"What's going on over there?" he asked.

Josie looked across the street to see a young girl sitting in a doorway. She had a blanket around her knees with a battered old metal mug in front of her. The young woman was begging. "Her?" Josie asked, pointing with a coffee cup. She watched a young guy slap her face and with an automatic reaction Josie winced. It wasn't hard, just meant to emphasis whatever he had told her.

"The bastard!" they both said in unison. The sad way she looked into the battered metal mug said it all. Whatever pitiful amount earned he had pocketed. He ruffled her hair in a demeaning manner and strode off.

"What kind of bastard robs a beggar?" Pete exclaimed.

"He's working her. Probably has several others working the area," Josie proffered.

Pete looked at her with a tight lipped mouth. "He's like a pimp?" he eventually asked.

"Probably is a pimp, running other girls for that too. Begging earns a good sum in the right area. He probably supplies them with drugs and somewhere to sleep," she opined, with a shrug and an unpleasant grimace.

"I was going to ask why they work for someone. So its drugs as well as protection," he surmised. "I hate cities," he sighed.

***

They crossed the road avoiding the sad looking young woman as most passers by did. Pete couldn't help but look her over wandering what brought someone so low as to beg on the streets. Had she run away to the city from a normal family life only to fall on hard times?

They entered through an ordinary looking door, no lurid signs, no metal studs. It simply opened onto a dark corridor with a set of stairs at the end leading down to a basement. With her stomach muscles churning Josie felt as though she were about to tumble down into hell. She said she would try anything once, but the only thing keeping her going was the fear of failing or making a fool of her self.

Before she could descend the steps Pete grabbed a wrist. The sudden movement startled her. A door set to one side was the entrance not as they assumed down the steps to the basement. A sign was screwed to the door - it cautioned all who entered to leave their prejudices outside and to always obey the club rules.

"What are the club rules?" she asked.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," Pete said and banged on the door with a hard workman's fist.

"It's open," a high pitched friendly voice shouted.

They looked at each other with weak smiles. Pete turned the large ornate gothic style handle and pushed the door open. It creaked theatrically as though it were a horror movie prop.

"Sorry about that, must get some oil, you're not members, are you?" the old chap with a high pitched voice enquired.

"No. I emailed and they said to come on up and look the place over. Thinking of becoming a member," Pete explained.

"Well that's fine for Monday to Thursday, quiet evenings, but not on Fridays. Besides, this is the last Friday in the month, means its slave night," he told them.

"Does that mean we can't get in?" Pete asked. The mixed look he returned spoke of relief not to face the unknown and frustration at driving all that way for nothing.

The old man looked them both over. He could see that it had taken them some effort to make it this far. If he turned them away they may never come back and that would be a shame. They always needed more members and newbie's usually added a touch of excitement in the club.

"I can sign you in as a guest. The only thing is, its slave night. You have to bring a slave, one of you willing to go for it?" he asked. He was looking at her with the assumption that Pete wouldn't be up for it, and he was right.

Pete gave her a big wink. "You up to being my slave tonight?" he asked, with a voice that tried to sound as though it were a perfectly normal question.

"Yes master," Josie said, while bowing and trying not to laugh.

"Well, in you go. Masters in that door and slaves the other," he said.

After the less than dramatic entrance they half expected to both walk through separate doors into the same place.

Josie was expecting a cheaply decorated room, painted black for a nasty tacky dungeon look as well as to hide the dirt. She was pleasantly surprised at the lushness of the club or at least this part of it. The ceiling was ornately decorated with Victorian plaster mouldings left over from when it was probably some rich person's residence. There were several large gilt mirrors along one wall, with shelves for make-up bags. The whole room sparkled in opulent splendour.

"Can I help you?" a woman asked.

It was only when she stood that Josie noticed her. She was dressed in a rubber French Maids uniform that covered her entire body including fingers. She was masked with a dolls face leaving her looking unreal and just a bit creepy. Josie looked again between the apparition's legs to confirm it was a woman.

The deep camel toe and the shape of her bottom left no doubt. If the top of the one piece outfit was real she had huge breasts too. Josie suspected they were blown up for the woman was short and the bust stuck out almost as far as she was tall. They must be J cups she thought.

The woman laughed. "Did I startle you? I can assure you I'm a real person, not a manikin." Again the tinkling laughter rained all about her filling the room with jollity. The infectious tinkling voice left Josie wondering if the glossy wet-look outfit might have originated from her laughter alone.

"Yes they are real," the strange maid stated.

Josie had been caught staring so looked down only to quickly look away from the thinly covered crotch.

The woman stood back yet her breasts were very nearly touching for they stood out so far. The woman grabbed her hands and pushed them against the big soft breasts. Josie warbled a laugh in embarrassment. The woman squashed her hands into them demonstrating they were real.

"They're nice, lovely and, err big," Josie nervously smiled.

"Not when I'm trying to get up their not!" she exclaimed. The woman tut her tongue and rolled her eyes in disbelief. "I'm just joking my dear. Mind you at school in Gym class it was interesting trying the high jump and skipping was farcical. The teacher was more embarrassed than me or the class. They were used to these huge things, having watched them develop over the last year of high school. The boys watched them very keenly of course. If I knew then what I do now I could have earned a fortune in pocket money," she laughed.

"They have a lovely feel to them, so comforting," Josie commented in a hushed whisper. The nipples grew to stand out bold through the thin rubber, like great big rubber teats on a baby's bottle. Not thinking of them as real Josie tweaked one, then the other.

She suddenly realised the woman had taken her guiding hands away yet she was still massaging the massive tits. The woman just stood there staring at her through the mask while her hands automatically squeezed and played with them. Even with both hands wrapped around one breast they were too big to envelop.

They were absolutely fascinating, so mesmerising, and Josie couldn't stop fondling them.

The maid was telling her about the club and for some reason she couldn't just suddenly stop as though some unspoken agreement might be broken. It was as though by continuing to massage those huge breasts she was accepting it was perfectly normal. If she let go now it might be so very embarrassing. Not knowing what to do she slowed down gradually then let go to rest her hands at her sides.

"By the looks of things I enjoyed that much more than you did," the doll said, while looking pointedly at Josie's breasts. "You need to change for slave night but you didn't bring an outfit I take it," the doll asked with a tone of admonition.

Josie lifted her arms and shrugged her shoulders expressing the idea she didn't care. "I guess I'm OK like this," she said.

"The dress is cute but not suitable for tonight," she sniffed. "No need to worry sweet, you don't have to dress up like this. What kind of slave are you? You are a novice and don't know! Let me see, there's a pet, slut, doll, whore, pony, girly, bunny," she listed more but Josie couldn't follow them all. They were recited off too quickly for her to comprehend half of what was said.

"You look confused. What does he like, plastic, cotton, PVC, rubber, leather, nylons?"

"He bought me this dress," she said, trying to be helpful. During the day she had become used to wearing nothing but the simple cotton dress despite always wearing jeans and t-shirt. Standing close to this woman a dress felt comfortable and normal, despite the lack of underwear.

An idea for an outfit came to her though it was such an alien thought she at first rejected it. She always thought of herself as being tough and independent, yet she had been playing around with Pete as a silly girly. Was it simply the incongruity of the image that was fun or was there something more to it than just a bit of a laugh?

To someone else it might seem obvious but the harder she tried to think about why it attracted her, the less clear the explanation was.

"You mentioned a girly costume? What's that like?" Josie asked. She didn't want to think about it too deeply, needing to just go with a gut feeling.

"I'll see what I've got in your size. Here give me that dress I'll put it away safe, for when you leave," the woman told her.

She was left with little choice as the woman swiftly pulled it up and off. Standing naked in the room with so many mirrors made her feel so self-conscious she wanted to hug her body. Not giving in to the feeling she instead watched the woman poring through a rack of fluffy clothing. A pink dress with feathery trimming was pulled out and Josie wrinkled her nose in disgust.

The woman held it up but from across the room could tell it wasn't her size. Josie couldn't tell unless she tried to pull it on and it wouldn't fit. Dresses were as alien as space suits to her. Even at home she had never worn anything remotely feminine. If her mother had been alive perhaps she might have but her father was always too busy for such niceties.

Josie was feeling very vulnerable standing there naked. She kept glancing at the door hoping no one would enter before she got dressed. This doll had her trapped before she had a chance to realise what was happening. She wanted to tell her to hurry up, that anything would do, yet didn't want to antagonise her for there were some very strange get-ups on the clothing racks.

She started to feel like a foolish girly waiting to be dressed by a parent. If a crowd came in they would all dismiss her as just a silly little girl waiting to be dressed by her mom. Perhaps they might laugh at her naked embarrassment telling her there was no need to fret for she was of no interest to a man - she was just a worthless little girl.

The image in Josie's head was a powerful one leaving her shaking. She wondered where it had sprung from but again the explanation evaded her. The doll had found something that would fit at last.

"Are you serious? I can't go out there like this, can I?" Josie asked. A look of trepidation creased her brow and formed her lips into an attractive pout. For once she looked young and vulnerable. She was actually asking someone for advice too.

"Best I can do on short notice. Stop fussing and prevaricating, just get out there. Your audience awaits and you don't want to keep your master waiting," the woman playfully scolded her.

Her father hated to be kept waiting and would storm off leaving her wherever they happened to be, if she had dared to be late. The woman pushed open the door and shoved her in the back propelling her into the main room.

Her eyes strained to become accustomed in the gloom of the low lighting. She could at least detect people weren't staring at her as though she were the freaky act. There was a satisfying low rumble of noise from people talking without an awkward silence from her sudden stumbling entrance. She noticed some weird outlines among the crowd and made out they were slaves, more strangely dressed than she was.

"Nice! Interesting outfit," John spoke up.

She was startled and jumped a little sensitive bunny hop revealing how jittery she was. He had been waiting for her by the door and was at her side when she tripped in. She gave him a big smile which changed to a grimace. It wasn't fair he was still dressed in jeans and t-shirt as when he entered the club. The expression lowered its ferocity to a benign acceptance.

She was the slave and he the master. Not daring to look at her reflection there was still enough indicators to keep reminding her of that humble relationship. The leash dangling from a collar flicked against her body every time she moved.

The soft flesh coloured spandex suit fit her so close it felt as though it would slice her in two with every movement. It fitted between her legs as closely as the doll's outfit had, leaving a deep slice between the legs. She had to admit her bottom looked good in it. Though her breasts weren't huge, like the dolls, what little she had was pushed up and straight out.

When she saw herself in the changing room mirrors she had gasped. There was something about the outfit that shrieked out 'SEX!' come and get it. There wasn't an inch of bare flesh yet everything was on show through the thin material of the stretchy one piece bodysuit. She would have to be careful not to become excited for it would show so terribly clearly.

Josie had always been a private person and hated anyone getting too close but with Pete all that had suddenly changed. This was just a bit too extreme though, showing off her body, no, openly flaunting it.

Trying on a demure pose with a curtsy she offered up the leash with both hands extended out flat.

Pete took the leash and chuckled. "You look wonderful but I know you and you're no pansy, more like a thorn bush I'd say," he told her and flicked her ass with the leash. Before she could kick him or worse he pulled on the leash heading for the bar.

Pete had gone to the men's room leaving her standing at the bar with a drink. For a moment she forgot about the outfit as she looked around the bar and the few people there. If dressed so provocatively in a night club the boys would have been too touchy feely eliciting a sharp rebuke in the form of a swift strike. She would have floored one or more of them and been thrown out.

The club rules forbade anyone touching a slave without the owner's permission and they kept to it. What was uncomfortable was the part about the master's permission. A master could do anything with a slave because the slave had agreed to it by signing in. It also meant a master could give permission for someone else to do what ever they liked with the slave.

Josie looked around the bar area and grimaced. There were slaves on their hands and knees at their master's feet. One male slave was licking his mistress's boots. Pete had teased her and dared her to show herself off but nothing humiliating, just silly and exciting.

Being given away to a man would be bad enough but submitting to a strangers quirky desires, no way! Josie didn't like the idea one bit. Had he arranged something, some kind of dare? At the front desk he had mentioned arranging something so maybe there was another challenge about to be sprung upon her. Whatever it was she had grown to trust Pete and knew he would look after her.

What was more re-assuring was that others were dressed in less fabric than she was. There was lots of bare flesh though some were ingenious rather than rude.

One woman was being led around the club by a chain attached to nipple rings. "Look at her, that looks so bad," Josie complained.

"Don't look now but this one approaching the bar is even more interesting," he said.

Josie watched as a couple passed them close. The slave was being pulled around by her clit. The slave's lips had been stretched to such an extent it left Josie feeling squeamish.

That doll maid with the huge breasts and this slave with large dangling lips left her wondering what it was all about. Her face went blank, she was very quiet and still, except for a hand that grabbed Pete's. For once she did something about the need for someone's comfort and reassurance.

Josie couldn't help getting her own back by drawing attention with a look and a nod to a male slave. He was being led around by a chain attached to a piercing in the end of his cock. Pete winced with a sympathetic expression of pain.

"Nothing unusual in that, all men are led by their cocks," Josie commented.

"For that you can get on your knees and behave like a proper slave," he demanded.

Just about to make a snide remark she had second thoughts. He probably had something planned so it would be better not to push him into anything too outrageous. Not wanting to aggravate him she dutifully obeyed.

It was said in good humour so why not get into the spirit of the place by joining in. The carpet was clean, thick and soft to her knees. So now she knew why the club was so plush and the floors so clean and tidy.

Pete brought the drink to her lips and she sipped at it. He gave her a big wink emitting an infectious chuckle, letting her know it was all just a bit of fun.

An experienced master introduced himself as Thomas and Pete bought him a drink. Pete had wanted to meet someone with experience of the scene to learn from them but wondered what to ask.

They completely ignored Josie leaving her to think this was it. She became nervous wondering if she was up to the challenge. She squatted at their feet feeling foolish and not wanting to miss out on the conversation in case they dropped a clue to what was planned.

Looking up at them from the floor certainly gave her a feeling of inferiority.

A nudge to her hip whipped her head round in surprise. On all fours beside her was a pet slave. Easy to guess for the woman wore a fitted dog suit! Her breasts hung down out of it and another cut-out revealed her sex. Josie was again grateful to the doll for covering her up. Perhaps the doll had been more pleased with the breast play than she admitted.

Josie looked at the pet pretending to pant with tongue sticking out, looking up at her master. He held her at his feet with a collar and leash. She was obviously wanting a drink and Josie realised she wasn't allowed to ask directly but had to use doggy speak.

Again the woman vigorously wagged her tail bumping Josie's hip. Josie was exasperated over the act so pulled on Pete's jeans interrupting the conversation. "We both want a drink," she stated, with no respect at all.

The stranger looked at her in dismay. Josie looked back at him as though she was about to stick out her tongue. Looking at dog woman it was evident she was a little disappointed with the direct approach, preferring to play the game. Of course, how stupid, the slaves are sometimes the motivating force behind the game! Pete had told her this and she had only half understood the concept until now.