Saving a Lost Itten

Once again, the author thanks all of you for reading and voting on this story. Here's Chapter III, along with the requisite boilerplate: All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental.

You really should read Chapters I and II just to understand these characters. If you've already done so, your patience will now be rewarded, because the sparks will commence flying with this chapter.

Enjoy!

- Ham Sandwich

***

Damn! I just knew that the light at the end of the tunnel was really an express train coming at high speed to mow me down, but I was powerless to do anything other than continue doing what I'd been doing and hope that somehow, the good memories of this new relationship would be enough to overcome the pain of its ending. Well, stiff upper lip and all of that. It would at least be fun while it lasted.

"Thank you," I said. "That was heaven!" And she smiled. She really thrives on praise, I thought.

Then it occurred to me that there was something important we needed to do, so I excused myself and made a phone call. "Kitten," I said when I returned to the room, "I'll be needed at the club this evening. It's a requirement that an elected officer be present whenever the club is open, and I am the one tonight. So, you'll be accompanying me, but you'll be wearing the red wristband, meaning you're there only to observe and are not to be solicited, so you'll be safe. We will be leaving a little early in order to get a bit of supper and to make one other stop, so you might want to begin thinking about what you'd like to wear, now that you have a choice."

"What should I wear?" she asked.

"Well, as you'll be untouchable, something tasteful would probably be better than something tasty. Maybe jeans with a modest top, or a dress, perhaps?" She began comparing dresses, and while she was doing so, it occurred to me that we'd overlooked an essential element of her attire while we were shopping, and I thought it was important to mention. "Do you know, I think you forgot to get any bras or panties today."

"I didn't forget," she said with a shy smile.

"Oh, so you DID buy some, then."

"No," she said in a soft, coquettish voice. The message got through to my head. Both heads, actually.

Twenty minutes later, I was ready to see the fashion show. She'd made an excellent choice for the evening. "What do you think of the dress. Is it tasteful?" she asked as she sashayed around in her new outfit. The material was thin enough to show just a hint of nipple underneath. Kitten had awesome nipples!

"More like understated, sophisticated elegance, if you really want my opinion." I replied. "In other words, I like it!" I exclaimed, and she just glowed with joy. "And those strappy heels, I adore those things! Just wait until winter when I get you some boots," I promised. And then I saw a wistful look cross her face. I didn't know it, but I was wearing the same face once I thought about what I'd said. Would she still be here by winter time? I didn't know that she'd been wondering the same thing. Well, that's then, and this is now, I told myself. Live in the today, and be glad for what you have while you have it. Be here now.

Presently, we were in the car. "Before we stop to eat, we're going by the urgent care clinic I patronize. We both need to get blood testing done. I need to have mine done so you'll know you have nothing to worry about, and you need to have yours done because I'm having great difficulty keeping my bodily parts apart from your counterparts," I explained with a lecherous look, and she smiled at my silly humor.

Checking in wasn't a problem for me, seeing I was already a patient there, but Kitten had a passel of forms to fill out. She began with the first one, and I noticed she'd come to a stop after entering her name. She filled in her name on the top line but the pen in her hand stopped moving, hovering over the next. I passed my form over to her. "Copy my address into that space, angel, "I said discreetly ."That's where you're staying now, isn't it?" She turned to me and squeezed my hand.

They filled up a couple of vials from me, and I held Kitten's hand while they drew her blood. Being a Dom, or at least supposing to be one, I was curious to see how she responded to the pain. Needle sticks don't really hurt that much, but there's a lot of apprehension involved for many people. She seemed to take it all in stride. The really painful part was when they told me it would be two days before the results came back! I wasn't sure the wait wouldn't kill me, but then I realized there was a wonderfully safe alternative, and I smiled at the thought. Oh, Kitten was going to love this surprise, I decided! Yes, this will be the perfect way.

After a quick meal - we were both still stuffed from lunch, actually - we arrived at the club to find we were the first ones there. My pass code inactivated the alarm system and got us inside, and I filled out a guest form for Kitten and put one of the red wristbands on her. Since nobody else would likely arrive for another fifteen minutes or so, I gave her the tour. She'd been in the playroom briefly the night before but hadn't an opportunity to see it in all its glory. The various whipping posts, bondage benches, St George crosses, etc., were impressive. Several rooms off to the side contained further equipment for encounters of a more private nature. Of course, all of this was housed in a large mansion, a gift to the club from a wealthy benefactor, now deceased.

"It really is a private club," I explained to Kitten. "We're a legitimate 501(c)(7) organization, a 'social club,' tax-exempt and recognized by the government. Naturally, there are certain standards we must adhere to, for example, you have to be a member or the guest of a member in order to enter. Nobody can just get in here off the street. And we have organizational requirements, such as having a president, vice-president, treasurer and secretary. Board members, too."

"The place is huge!" Kitten observed.

"Yep, and the Gothic architecture fits right in with our style." By now, people were beginning to arrive, and I checked them in and greeted them. Many of them smiled at Kitten but went no further once they noticed her red wristband. When a couple of our volunteers had come to take over the reception area, we were free to wander around some more.

"Our members are of all ages, but given that BDSM can be an expensive hobby, many of of them are older, more affluent folks. Partly because of that, all our officers and volunteers are required to maintain first-aid certification with the Red Cross. You see that green box on the wall over there?" I asked, pointing it out, "that's an AED - automatic external defibrillator - in case somebody goes into cardiac arrest. Hasn't happened yet, but it could, and we certainly don't want anybody to die here! We have several of those AEDs in various places in the building."

Kitten was impressed: "You all take this seriously, don't you?"

"You bet!" I replied. "First, because there are legal and insurance issues involved, but more importantly, because it's the right thing to do. We have rules galore! For example, you couldn't change your red wristband to a green one, indicating anything goes, without providing a copy of a physical exam showing you were up for it. And obviously, no actual physical abuse is permitted, which is why Pluto stood out so quickly last night when he hit you."

Having last night's circumstances brought to mind was not pleasant for her, but maybe it was the right time to talk about it.

"Why did he hit you, by the way?"

She took a breath and hesitated. Then she said, "He was angry because I didn't want to go along with his plan. He brought me here because he thought he could sell my virginity to the highest bidder. He thought there would be plenty of rich people here who would pay him a lot for the privilege of taking it."

So that was why she was still a virgin in spite of living with him, but then, what did they do together, how did he have her, I wondered, just orally?

The expression on my face must have given away my thoughts. "He only used my mouth and my ass when we were together," she said, "it was better with my mouth. The other hurt too much. I hated it, and I hated being there with him. But there wasn't any other place for me to go. Well, then, anyway."

"Oh, my God," I whispered. I couldn't imagine what kind of hell she must have been put through, or how she'd even managed to keep from going insane. He'd certainly misjudged our club. If we'd known what he'd had in mind, he'd have been lucky to get out of there without being beaten to a pulp!

I decided I wasn't going to ask her any more questions that night and changed the subject. "Well, let's see who's here tonight, shall we?" and I looked over the guest list. "Oh, this will be educational! Gina and Rick have booked the Blue Room for themselves, and they won't mind if we observe if we do it discreetly." I led Kitten to my office and opened the credenza by the side of my desk. It housed a television screen and a control panel. I turned it on and pressed the button labeled "blue." Almost at once, the monitor came to life and showed a man and a woman, both of whom were nude. He was standing in the middle of the room, and his wrists were secured over his head with cuffs and rope that went up through some unseen device in the ceiling. She was standing several feet behind him holding a whip. Every few seconds, she'd give him a swipe across the ass. It wasn't hard enough to cause him anything more than a slight discomfort, and he didn't seem to be protesting.

"Why are they doing that?" asked Kitten.

"People get into this for various reasons," I explained. "Now, Mistress Regina, as she prefers to be called by her husband, Rick, when they're doing a scene like this, well, she does it because it helps Rick to let go of his anxieties and unwind, believe it or not. His day job is an air traffic controller, which is very high-pressure. One mistake on his part, and two jumbo jets could collide and a thousand people would die. That's a lot of responsibility! So, every four or five days, they come here, and she does him like this.

"If you notice, she's giving him heavier strokes than she did a minute ago. She'll step up the intensity based upon his responses. Her goal is to strike him just hard enough to cause a sensation that's only slightly painful. Then, endorphins will flood his nervous system. Sort of like natural drugs. When he gets habituated to the level of force, she'll do it harder, which will release even more endorphins. In about fifteen or twenty minutes, Rick will have a natural high and be in a state of bliss, serenity even. Just watch!"

"How long could she keep ramping it up?" Kitten asked.

"Actually, she could continue increasing the stimulation until it literally killed him. That's why being a Dom carries with it so much responsibility, Kitten. She knows what she's doing and she makes sure she's careful. See that little white thing on his finger? It's called an oximeter, and it keeps track of Rick's pulse rate and the oxygen in his blood. It sends wireless data to Gina's iPhone, which you'll see is sitting on that stool right next to her. If you notice, she glances at it from time to time to make sure he's OK. I think he also has a ball bearing in his other hand, and he can drop it on the floor if some emergency happens and he needs her to stop. Let's come back in a bit after we fix ourselves some coffee. If they do what I believe they'll do, I think you'll find what happens next very interesting!"

"No Black Bush tonight?" she asked.

"Ha, sorry! We generally don't allow alcohol here, and of course, no drugs. The Subs shouldn't have any because it might mess up their responses. The Doms can't have any because it might mess up their judgment. We had some the other day only because it was sort of an emergency. Nobody knows I keep a bottle in here anyway."

I could see that we returned with our coffee just in time. Rick's bottom was a bright shade of red with a good number of darker stripes crisscrossing his cheeks. Kitten noticed that Gina was outside the camera's view but soon came back dragging some kind of square box. Kitten gave me a questioning look.

"That's called an 'apple crate,' and it's a prop that photographers and movie makers use to raise someone's height," I explained. "We have a whole set of them here, different sizes. They come in real handy at times." Gina set the apple crate down right behind Rick, and when her front was in view, she was seen to be wearing a strap-on dildo of a very respectable length and thickness.

"What in the world is she going to do with THAT?" Kitten exclaimed, and when Gina opened up a jar of lube, put a good coating of it on the shaft, and started towards Rick it became obvious to Kitten what was going to happen.

"Oh my God! She's going to fuck him in the ass with that thing! It's going to be torture! OH, MY GOD!" she cried frantically, and looked at me as though I ought to be doing something to stop it.

"Shhh. It's not like you think," I assured her, "just wait and watch, and you'll see."

Gina penetrated Rick with a greased finger, gently lubricating and opening him. After a minute, she stepped onto the apple crate and positioned the tip of the strap-on against his anus. They were both perfectly still. So were Kitten and I! We could see that Gina was slowly leaning into Rick, and after a little bit, the tip of the dildo found its way inside of him. He shuddered slightly, and she stood stock still, not moving forward at all, until he relaxed once again.

Kitten watched in rapt attention as Gina, with exquisite patience, slowly worked the entire length of the strap-on into Rick's ass. She was amazed that Rick's face showed no sign of discomfort, indeed, when Gina began stroking him in and out, it was obvious that Ken was really enjoying this. His eyes were ecstatic slits!

Gina reached around and took hold of his straining erection and began pumping it in time with the dildo's strokes. In a matter of minutes, Rick had a massive orgasm and shot semen like a fire hose. After a bit, Gina cleared the paraphernalia from the stool and sat on it. Rick knelt in front of her and buried his face between her legs. His enthusiasm with what he was doing to her was apparent, and she had her own orgasm pretty soon while she held the back of his head to steer his tongue where she desired it. It was evident that words of endearment passed between them, and their affectionate afterplay made it obvious that they truly loved each other.

Not long after, they had dressed, cleaned up and left the room, hand in hand like newlyweds. Rick's work issues were long gone, and Gina was wearing a Cheshire Cat smile.

Kitten was speechless, dealing with the internal feelings that had been provoked by what she'd witnessed: a demonstration of ecstatic lovemaking within the context of whipping, bondage, and more. She didn't know it yet, but she would be experiencing her own orgasmic ecstasy this very night, at least if I had anything to do with it!

(to be continued)