Lucy Attends Fuc Club

This story is fictional, but such things do happen in London. Trust me...

First rule of Fuck Club is everyone talks about Fuck Club! Or so it seemed to Lucy as she reached for a second glass of prosecco, thinking, not for the first time, what the fuck am I doing here?

She was upstairs in the sort of converted East London warehouse that had mostly been turned into bars or microbeweries, but this was a little different. The guys were gathering downstairs -- how many guys, Lucy wondered: ten, twenty? And the girls had been told to wait upstairs, where they gathered -- dressed at most in a pair of skimpy panties and shoes, with not much more on than that. Hot (some of them in every sense of the word), anticipatory female bodies everywhere.

The prosecco took some of the heady edge off Lucy's convulsing brain, but only a little. Some girls were chatting in a friendly way to each other, bare flesh no impediment to socialising. Others were calm, withdrawn, almost meditating. Some were touching up their makeup. A few looked outright terrified. The palpable excitement, fear and arousal in anticipation of what was to come was like a miasma on the mazzanine. Lucy popped to the bathroom for a third time. Damn this! She thought to herself as she sat in the unisex toilet, looking at graffitied walls with all manner of expletive filth scrawled in sharpie on the toilet door. A scrubby, rough setting. Perfectly fitting for Fuck Club, Lucy thought, as she relieved herself again.

Since she had begun her entry in the world of kink with Master Kane, Lucy had become far more aware of the vast universe of BDSM. Being an attractive professional woman in her 20s, she was, popular on the scene (who'd have thought!), though scrupulously careful to maintain her anonymity. Word went out through various online networks about Fuck Club: a sex positive, pro feminist meeting run by a leading member of the scene who specialised in satisfying the public BDSM sexual fantasies of young, or youngish women, all in a safe environment. He was known as Master A. Lucy felt her fingers race the first time she typed a message to him, wondering where it would lead, and a few weeks later, here she was, dressed in much skimpier underwear than the M & S set up she wore when she took her first tentative steps with Master Kane, mixing with fellow kinky girls from all over the country (perhaps, all over the world), but all drawn here for the same primal reasons.

Eventually, Princess T called the girls down. Princess T was Master A's assistant. A slim, hard-edged woman with elegant, black hair, black eyeliner, wearing an austere black dress that hugged her slim figure. Like the x rays in Bonfire of the Vanities. Perfect for a Domme. Like a younger version of Sylvia, Lucy thought.

"When I finish girls, you will go downstairs." She pointed a Cruella de Vil type finger towards the top of the winding spiral staircase. "Remember the House Rules. No talking unless you are spoken to, follow instructions at all times. Raise your hand if you feel uncomfortable and want to stop at any time and someone will come and release you from the scene."

Lucy's tummy was in turmoil now. She was grateful for her flat shoes as she descended the staircase. Other girls were in heels and she noticed they seemed very precarious as they went down. She looked at the scene downstairs -- oh my fucking god! There seemed at least thirty guys, more than she expected, mostly around her age, or slightly older, either skinny and wiry, or more muscular, but nearly all toned and standing with a predatory aura, wearing tight fitting t shirts, and snug black or grey briefs. A lot were tattooed and pierced. They looked up at the train of girls descending the staircase, and a visceral, sexual hubbub rose in the atmosphere as the two sexes, Mars and Venus, encountered each other for the first time. More exposed flesh than a Botticelli painting.

In the centre of the room, a square stage that resembled a boxing ring, with ropes around the edge. Master A stood in the middle of the ring, looking bigger, more domineering, more BDSM than Lucy remembered from the civilian pre-meeting she had with him: a black mask around his eyes, bare chested, leather trousers sheathing his muscular thighs, arms folded.

Lucy clambered into the ring with the other girls and assumed the nadu position as Princess T had instructed: kneeling, eyes down. One by one the girls were instructed to crawl to the centre of the room and state three likes, and three limits that would shape their participation this evening. When it was Lucy's turn her nerves were in the stratosphere. She was accomplished at advocacy in the most gruelling of courtrooms. But this!

She felt herself turning into an object as she crawled to the middle of the ring, aware of her knees on the tarpaulin, sensing the eyes of the men upon her, like beasts stalking their prey. The same feelings she had when she first displayed for Master Kane on his step, only accentuated a hundredfold. So this was what public display felt like.

"Limits: anal, fisting, choking; likes: spanking, other girls, sucking cock", she managed to articulate her points, conscious that her accent was more received pronunciation than the other girls. A ripple from the audience. Was that a touch of laughter? "I bet she does!" she heard a male voice say. Her mouth was so dry now, tongue shy in the back of her throat, she felt the lights of the room on her together with the gaze of the crowd, a hot flush alighting on her cheeks and neck. Fully aware of how much bare flesh she was showing off, the high cut of her panties, the tightness of her bra. She crawled back to the side of the ring and resumed her nadu, relieved that she had managed to say something coherent.

Lucy had been told the overview of what would happen: a series of rounds, each culminating in a winner, with a final champion at the end. Other than that, very little. Only Master A, and Princess T were allowed to issue instructions. The other guys were to follow their lead, the girls were the subs. There to obey.

"Round 1," said Master A, still, asserting his dominance over the ring. "Spanking!"

The girls were set up around the outside edge of the ring. Participation in every round was voluntary, but Lucy had heard that spanking was likely, and -- well, she was experienced in that at least from Master Kane. She took her place standing outside the ring.

"Hands on the rope, any girl who lets go is eliminated." Said Master A, his voice stern, gravelly now. Lucy took her place and clenched the rope with her fists, the girl to her left to her was paler than her, slightly chubbier, full of tattoos, a lacy corset type outfit, doc martin boots, dyed blonde hair. To her right, a slim Chinese girl, in skimpy black bra and thong panties. She could feel their flesh, their scent, their aroma, their nerves. These three girls -- strangers until now, presenting themselves obediently, bottoms presented outwards.

The spanks started. Slowly at first. The guys went round behind the girls, spanking each girl's bottom for thirty seconds at a time, then a whistle sounded, and each spanker moved to the left. There was giggling, from nerves, the sound of slaps, echoing around the tight walls of the room, containing writhing bodies.

It was hard being spanked by multiple spankers, something Lucy had never experienced. The rhythm of each was different, she couldn't tell who was spanking her which meant she more acutely aware of her exposed bottom, though paradoxically the embarrassment was eased a little -- partially by the prosecco, partially that she was in good company with other girls sharing her fate. It was almost fun. She could take quite a spanking thanks to her discipline from Master Kane, and started getting into it, wriggling her bottom to entice the spankers. A few cheeky comments, "come on Sir, is that all you've got!" She could feel herself transforming into a performer, revelling in the public display of her spanked bottom. No girls had bowed out yet. They had all come to prove themselves.

But after a few rounds the cheeky comments the giggles ceased, turning to mewls, yelps, gasps. The girls were finding it tougher by now. The rising exertion, soreness and discomfort was punctuated by the dingaling of a bell, like a real boxing ring. Completely focused now, Lucy took a while to realise what was happening -- a girl had finally ceded.

Then came the implements. Lucy felt, initially the dull, concentrated thud of a brush. Then the sear of a paddle, ripping into her tender bottom. Several more girls found this too much and the bell rang a lot more frequently. Eventually -- and this was signalled by the sharp tap tap of a slender rod massaging her already stinging bottom. Oh my god, she bit her lip.. the cane.

Lucy bore six strokes of the cane. Her mouth gasping, her head rearing up as her bottom received the strokes The wielder was severe. Emitting a sharp, primal yell on the sixth stroke, she released her hands, stood up, and the dingaling of the bell signalled her exit.

She turned round to look at her caner, but he seemed to have receded back into the throng of guys in briefs. Breathing deeply, and rubbing her bottom -- holy fuck that hurt! She took in the scene again: men, very horny now, she could sense the taught outlines of their muscles, their sweat, their erections straining their briefs. Most of the girls now tending to their sore bottoms around the edge of the ring. Lucy was inwardly thrilled to note she was one of the last to cede. Perhaps she could have taken more, but there was no point in breaking herself in round one. She saw the round climax -- two girls each on opposite sides of the ring, grunting and gasping as they received the final implement, the evil split ended Lochgelly tawse.

The winner, a pale redhead, with a meaty bottom (that will give her some protection, thought Lucy, seeing the raw, slightly welted expanse of her substantial rump). She had a nose ring, and a Saltire tattooed on her arm. Lucy was definitely in different company. But credit to her. The Saltire girl was led into the ring after her opponent conceded - head collapsing on the ring, tears in her eyes, consoled in her runner up position by a couple of other girls. Saltire girl's arm was held aloft by Master T as she did a 360 turn displaying her marked bottom like a trophy. The room was in a heightened frenzy by now. The guys had their appetites whetted by spanking such eager bottoms. And the girls were hot and sore and primed for more. What next?