Our Only Hope

This is Chapter Eight of a book. The characters and situations will be more understandable if the previous chapters have been read. Because it is a book, some of the chapters are more exciting than others, and some situations do not complete until the next chapter. I could have run this through my regular publisher and made a couple hundred dollars, but I am posting it instead because many more people read my posts than buy my books.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2019 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Chapter Eight

The Fourth Floor

I returned to

The Blue Deuce

a little after midnight. The same valet was still on duty. He greeted me with "Welcome back, Mister Guthrie. I'll park your car in one of our VIP slots. Just tell them at the desk when you are ready to leave and I will have it ready for you."

I handed him my keys and a twenty and said, "Remember it's electric... high torque and all that."

"I won't forget," he replied as he took the keys and the bill. It's funny how spending twenty thousand at a club in one night will greatly improve the service from the staff. Word evidently gets around in a hurry.

I walked past the reception desk to the elevator, which was open because someone else had just stepped into it. Elevators are death traps and I would normally never enter one that opened so conveniently, especially with a rather stocky man two inches taller than myself entering first. But since I was just Harold Guthrie, a rich business man from Ohio who wouldn't be anywhere near as paranoid as W, I stepped into the elevator.

I swiped the key card through the reader beneath the standard buttons and waited. My pucker string got a little tighter when we started up rather than down, but then I noted that the button for the second floor had been pressed. The other man was evidently just a late visitor to the land of Bondage, Submission and Discipline. He and I did the standard avoid each other's gaze routine required of all elevator travelers until the doors opened at the Second Floor and he stepped off. I again swiped my card and we started down.

I watched the lights above the door as they showed 2, then 1, then nothing as we still continued down. It felt like we went an additional two or three stories down before the elevator stopped and the rear doors opened. I turned around and stepped slowly out into a new reception area. There was a hostess desk very similar to what was upstairs except that the hostess behind this desk was wearing a slave collar, a very tight corset, very high-heeled shoes, and nothing else. I'm not normally into that type of fetish, but she did look sexy as hell standing there.

"Please swipe your card to verify membership and open a billing for food and drinks," she said with a smile. When I did so, she said "Follow me," stepped around the high desk and began walking into the inner room. Following behind her I realized why I'm not into corsets. From the front, the pressure from the corset cinched her waist and pushed up her boobs, but from the rear, it interfered with the natural motion of her buttocks. Her ass didn't move like it should... or at least like I preferred an ass to move.

"Is this table acceptable?" she asked brightly, gesturing toward a table a little back from front and center. There were a couple tables available up front, but I had a feeling I would have to drop more than twenty grand here to automatically be ushered up to those seats.

"This is fine," I said as I seated myself such that I could easily see the stage and what appeared to be one or two side attractions at the corners of the room.

"Your slave will be with you shortly," the hostess chirped as she turned and walked back to her station. At the restaurant in the hotel, the waitresses were "servers." Upstairs in the main club, they were "servants." Down here they were "slaves." I wondered if the entertainment also stepped up- or down- accordingly.

A naked slave came running out a few moments later. She literally ran up to the table and dropped to the floor at my feet. Speaking from her prostrate position, she said, "This slave begs your forgiveness for my tardiness." She took a deep breath and then, still with her head on the floor, said, "What may this worthless slave bring to an esteemed Master for his pleasure?"

With an introductory line like that, I wondered what all might be on the menu, but I decided to stick with bourbon... no, Yukon Jack. I know a lot of connoisseurs consider it to be cough syrup made from distilled reindeer waste, but I find that the cheap Canadian whiskey, flavored with honey, makes a nice sipping liqueur and there is no danger that I might accidentally over-imbibe. With Jack, more than a sip is more than enough. "Yukon Jack," I said. "... double ... neat."

The slave ran off into the darkness and returned just seconds later with a heavy, double shot glass filled to the brim with an amber-colored drink. I took a very small sip and nodded at her. "That will be all for now," I said.

She pointed to a call button on a pad near the center of the table. "If you need anything else," she said hurriedly, "that button will buzz my collar." She then turned and ran back into the darkness. I wondered how many tables she was responsible for and how fast she would have to be running before the night was over.

I sat back to survey my surroundings. Things seemed darker than the standard club dim upstairs. A dark blue-black curtain was drawn around the main stage area and all lights were off on-stage, but I could see... or perhaps sense that there was more to the darkness. The carpeted floor was black. The walls up front were covered by the same dull, blue-black curtain that hid the stage. The ceiling was an open rafter works that had been painted a flat black. The walls, where I could see them, were either really old-style very dark concrete blocks or were some sort of faux-stone that was supposed to look like the basement dungeon of some ancient castle. I chuckled to myself. This was Master Walter's club. This fit his personality.

On either side of the stage, in front of the curtains, were raised platforms- black, of course. On the platform on the left there was a wooden spanking bench which was currently empty. On the right was a strange pipe sticking up that had four large braces sticking out of it that were bolted to the top of the platform. Overall, it looked like it should be holding a large Christmas tree.

As I contemplated what its purpose might be, a loud argument caught my attention. A loud male voice was saying, "I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me tonight." An equally loud female voice pleaded, "Please, Master, I won't do it again. I'll be good. Don't do this to me. Don't make me do this in public."

I was wondering what "this" might be when the lights over the left-hand platform brightened and the Master at the table where the argument was occurring stood up and began dragging a naked girl toward the front. He had one hand on her arm near the shoulder. The other hand held her leash, which was pulled tight. It must have been a choker collar leash of some sort because as long as he kept tension on it, she moved with him. When he relaxed his pull on the leash, however, she would struggle as if trying to escape his grip.

Once they were up on the platform, he released her arm and she stood glaring at him defiantly. He pointed at the bench and said, "In place or it will be worse."

She pulled back against the leash a couple of times and then said, "How could it be worse than you fucking me in the ass in front of all of these people?"

He laughed and said, "I could make you beg me to fuck you in the ass."

In response she crossed her arms like an angry two-year old and continued to glare at him.

"OK then," he said angrily. Then he called out, "Could I have some assistance up here?" and two muscular young men dressed in black jeans and black t-shirts with the word "Security" on their back hurried up onto the platform. He nodded at them and they grabbed the young woman by her arms, nearly lifting her off of the ground.

These two weren't muscle-head type of muscle. They were lean and efficient and knew exactly what they were doing. They effortlessly set the naked slave over the top portion of the spanking bench and then one of them held her in place while the other strapped her shins to the lower padded step. Once he had one leg strapped in place, she tried to kick out at him with the other leg, but he grabbed her crotch as she started to kick and the energy left her leg. He didn't seem to be grabbing her pussy, but instead seemed to be pressing his thumb into the inside of the leg joint in her crotch. She whimpered and lowered her leg slightly. He grabbed it and forced it in place. It only took him a few seconds to secure it to the padded step.

He then walked around in front of her and grabbed her arms. Putting a foot against the lower portion of the spanking bench frame, he pulled outward, stretching her arms tight. This forced her hips forward so that they were against the upper pad on the bench. The first security man then strapped her abdomen in place. He reached around her and made sure that her breasts were hanging down in the open area between the abdomen support and the shoulder support and then strapped her neck in place. The other man handed him one arm at a time and he forced them slightly forward and strapped her wrists to restraints alongside her head. When they were finished, they lifted the front end of the bench and turned it so that it was parallel to the front of the platform.

"Thank you," the Master said gruffly, "but hang around. I might want you to turn the bench again once she begs me to fuck her."

"That will never happen," the bound slave almost yelled. Then she spat out, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

"No, you don't," her Master said almost gently. "You love me. ... And you love this." He ran his hand down her back and over her ass before continuing, "You just can't bring yourself to do it unless I make you."

He stepped away from her and held out his hand. A naked waitress ran forward and placed a short, black leather paddle in his hand. He moved to stand next to his slave, patting the paddle softly against his hand. "Beg me," he said. "Beg me to fuck you in the ass in front of all of these people."

In response, the bound slave shook her head violently back and forth.

"OK, then," the Master said, "we do it the hard way." He then began spanking her ass with the leather paddle. It was nice to see someone who knew how to properly use this kind of flexible, whippy paddle. He started with standard spanks which he spread out over her entire ass and upper thigh area. Each spank hit with a loud "Thwack!" and the thwacks were evenly spaced a little over a second apart.

After maybe a minute's worth of those, he started putting some wrist action into it that changed the sound of the paddle in the air and the sound of it striking the slave's ass. There was a slight whooshing whiz just before a loud "Thawack!" You could hear the tip of the paddle strike just microseconds before the main portion of the paddle hit flesh. He was no longer warming her up, he was striking for effect. And it, indeed, had an effect. She began grunting and squirming with each strike.

After a short while, she began yelling at him, "You bastard! You fucker! You Son of a Bitch!" She kept up a varied rotation of those screams for the next five minutes or so. Then he stopped and walked around to the front of the platform. He stood there with the paddle held down in front of her face.

"There are two ways you can stop this," he said firmly. "You can use your safe word... or you can beg me to fuck you in the ass."

She looked up at him defiantly and said nothing, so he moved back around into position and resumed spanking. He was now bringing the paddle well up past his shoulder on each strike. The whoosh-whiz now seemed slightly higher-pitched and the sound of the spank, itself, returned to being a very loud "Thwack!" I watched several strokes before I realized that he was stopping his hand slightly above her asscheek and letting the flex of the paddle carry through the strike itself. That is very hard to do, and takes some of the energy out of the swat, but it concentrates the blow onto a much smaller area of flesh.

After just a couple dozen of these swats, she called out, "Stop! Stop! Please Stop!"

"You know what will stop this," he answered. "You either say your safeword or you beg me to fuck you in the ass."

She looked up at him defiantly and he again began swinging the paddle. A half-dozen swats later she screamed out, "Stop! Stop! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

He leaned down close to her head and said in almost a child-like tone, "Fuck you where?"

"Fuck me in the ass. Fuck me in the ass," she called out and began sobbing.

The Master gestured to the two security men who were standing by and they jumped back up onto the platform. "I want her to watch all the people watching her as I fuck her in the ass," he said firmly. The slave's sobs increased greatly when he said that.

After the spanking bench was turned so that the slave was staring straight out at the crowd, the two security men left the platform. As the Master walked around behind the slave, a naked waitress ran up and handed him a tube of lube. He walked back around in front of the bench and held the tube down in front of the slave's face. "I should fuck you without this," he said, "but you will have enough pain from the spanking."

He then walked around behind her and opened his fly. He was impressively average. He didn't appear to be overly long, but his girth would probably make anal not very pleasant for most women. He squirted some of the lube down between the slave's swollen asscheeks and began rubbing it into her rosebud.

She immediately began moaning slightly. This was definitely not a cry of pain. She was very turned on and was responding to his fingers going in and out of her ass. He worked on her for several minutes, slowly working up from one finger to two and then three and then pushing all four fingers, bunched up into a wedge, in and out of her now stretched-out asshole.

She was starting to buck back against him and was shouting hoarsely, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Please fuck me!"

"You're forgetting something," the Master said mockingly.

"Fuck me in the ass!" the slave yelled back. "Please fuck me in the ass!"

"Since you beg so nicely," he responded and pushed his prick into her waiting rosebud. He slid in an inch or so with no real resistance, but then he paused as she slowly opened up to allow him full entry. Then he started slowly pumping.

As he pumped, he ran his hands along her ass, obviously causing pain as he massaged the red and purple bruises. In response, the slave began a low, hoarse moan that got louder and louder and louder. He was as measured with his pumping strokes as he had been with his spanking strokes. There was no indication of anything from him as she continued to grow louder and her struggles against her bonds grew more and more frantic.

After several minutes, her cries suddenly turned very shrill and she began crying out, "No, no, oh God, no. Don't make me cum. Don't make me cum from an ass-fucking in front of all these people. Don't let these people see me cuuuuuuummmmm!"

As she screamed out the word "cum" a final time, he drove hard into her ass, reaching forward and grabbing her hips to give himself even greater power as he pushed into her and, from his slight grunting groan, spurted into her bowels.

The Master pulled out of his slave shortly after climaxing, leaving her sobbing and calling out softly, "I am so ashamed. I am so ashamed."

A naked waitress ran up to him and handed him a small towel or napkin. He wiped himself off and tucked himself back into his pants. Slave dolly meanwhile continued her sobbing litany of, "I am so ashamed. I am so ashamed."

He patted her ass smartly and said, "Well then, we will just leave you up here for a while so the people can see what an humiliated ass slut really looks like." She groaned loudly in despair as he stepped off the platform and returned to his table. As soon as he sat down, a naked waitress came running out to see if he desired anything now that he had finished with his slave.

A noise on the other side of the club brought my attention back to the right-hand platform. Six security men were carrying a large, round, metal object up onto the platform. I recognized that object, and I recognized the woman bound in the center of it. It was Mistress Tenesha in her steel globe.

The six men set the globe into its stand. There was a large, round apparatus that seemed to be attached to the globe and fit exactly around the shaft on the platform. It was hard to tell if the globe was supported by the shaft or the apparatus. Maybe they worked together. A thick electrical cord led back under the stage curtain. Once the men were confident that the globe was in place, one of them went backstage and evidently started the mechanism because the globe began to slowly turn.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Master Walter said from the center of the stage, standing in front of the curtain, "Masters and Mistresses, may I present Mistress Tenesha White in her World of Pain."

As soon as he said those words, several blue-white arcs jumped from the interior peaks of the globe to the Mistress' skin. "Whenever you buzz your servers this evening," he said, smiling broadly, "you will also be buzzing Mistress Tenesha." He paused to look over at her and chuckled. "I know that many of you will greatly enjoy that." He chuckled again. "Mistress Tenesha, however, will not."

As if to accentuate his point, several more arcs jumped from the metal peaks and Mistress Tenesha screamed in pain. Master Walter looked up slightly and said, "The Germans and the Argentineans have already redeemed their Masters and Mistresses. Why has nothing been done for Mistress Tenesha?" I looked up at the ceiling where Master Walter had fixed his gaze. The black dome of a security camera was barely visible amidst the black steel trusses.

The spotlight illuminating Master Walter went off and he strode off the stage. A few moments later, the curtains along the sidewalls were pulled towards the stage area, revealing five naked people restrained against the concrete walls. I didn't recognize two of them, but one of them was Master Tyrone, one was Mistress Kelly, and one was Mastress Barbette. Mastress Barbette was semi-dressed in a tight corset which accentuated her breasts, but below the corset she was naked. Or perhaps I should say, he was naked below the corset because below the corset was obviously male genitalia.