Tales Ftc: Salome & Her Cameraman

TFTC: Salome and Her Cameraman

As usual, this story contains parts from many categories. Since most of the action takes place in the dungeon of the New Xanadu sex club, I've placed it under BDSM. But there are elements of Erotic Coupling, Exhibitionist & Voyeur and First Time.

This story grew out of my sick musings about how cheerleaders at college football teams were chosen for face time on TV. Now, before anyone thinks of suing me for defamation of a class, or of beating me up for impugning the virtue of their cheerleader daughter, let me make this clear:

I do not have the foggiest idea of how that selection is made. I have never had any direct or indirect experience of cheerleading or of sports broadcasting. Everything in this story is FICTION, the product of my warped imagination. Any resemblance to anything in the real world is purely coincidental.

This is a stand-alone story, but for those interested in the Salome back story, see New Xanadu Part 12 and Tales from the Club: "Schoolgirls."

Writing without reader response is sort of like jerking off. It fulfills a writer's basic need to put words on paper, but it's not nearly as rewarding as something done with someone else. So please, especially if you appreciate my efforts, join in: take time to comment; and if you have any ideas for stories, please pass them on.

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As I stepped into New Xanadu's lounge I was greeted by a cry of "Daddy, I'm home," followed by Salome jumping into my arms and trying to eat my face. Though she wasn't very big, the unexpected impact as she threw herself onto me nearly took me to the floor. Good thing it didn't I thought; she'd probably have raped me on the spot. While there are women I'd have been happy to let have their wicked way with me, even on the floor of the lounge with people standing around watching, Salome was not one of them.

There was something about Salome's total lack of control that had brought out the worst, certainly what I hoped was the worst, in me a few of years ago. That had cost me the relationship with Martha that I sensed had been moving beyond just sex towards something that I think in time we might both have called love. After that, the degree of planning that I had seen Salome use to secure her current status as wife of a Hollywood mogul had caused me to reconsider my previously low assessment of her intelligence. But that didn't alter my sense that when Salome wanted, she wanted dangerously, with no sense of limits or consequences. Nor did it erase the fact that my loss of Martha's affection (and bed) was directly tied to her. With my hopes of someday reconnecting with Martha still simmering, having Salome back in the picture, especially again calling me Daddy as she had on that fateful night, was not welcome.

I peeled Salome off of me and put her feet on the floor. I did not let go - not because I was worried she would fall, but because I wanted to make sure she didn't jump back up on me.

"Welcome back, Salome, nice to see you," I lied. "Maybe not the time and place, don't you think?"

"Oh, definitely the time, Daddy. I've been wanting you forever and I don't want to wait any more. As for the place, I've booked your nice new apartment in the attic, and I hear this place has a nice dungeon, in case you'd rather do me in one of those."

I was looking for a nice way to get out of this scene when Ron, our de facto bartender and one of Mary's extremely competent, multi-talented bodyguards, brought a tray with a bottle and two glasses. The fact that the bottle contained 14-year Código 1530 Extra Añejo, told me that Salome was carrying serious weight; that stuff costs over $3000 a bottle. I'd only heard about it from some serious tequila aficionados, and had never expected to see it in the flesh, much less taste it. Nor would I now, as there was only one fluted glass of the ambrosia; the second glass contained my usual Diet Coke.

"Ms. Sabatini, I am honored to welcome New Xanadu's newest Premium member. I understand that this is your drink of choice," Ron said with a medium bow to Salome. "I have been instructed keep the bottle behind the bar for your private use."

"Why thank you, Ron," she purred. "Always exceptionally well informed, as usual."

"Thank you miss," Ron replied, carrying on his unctuous butler schtick. "It's always nice to have one's work appreciated."

Salome laughed. "Come on Ron, it's just me, Salome the family slut. Or are you trying to act your way into one of my films."

Ron dropped out of character and back into his old self, "Welcome home Salome. As for your films, from what I've seen I'm not built for that, so I think I'll have to keep my day job and this nighttime side hustle."

"You could let me be the judge of that," Salome said.

"Perhaps I'd better not Salome. I like my current job too much."

With that Ron handed Salome her glass of liquid gold and turned to me, smoothly using his body to shield the tray from Salome's view. As he handed me my glass he used his little finger to point to the note on the tray that it had been covering it. The note, in Martha's handwriting and signed by both her and Mary, said simply

Go ahead and do whatever it takes to get that bitch out of here.

I had been so busy with Salome that I hadn't even seen Martha come in. Of course Martha and Mary would have been on top of the Salome situation from the moment her application came in. Ron was the guy who helped handle background checks for prospective members. Ron worked for Mary. Mary was Martha's BFF from childhood on, and she knew that Martha had a personal stake in, and would love to drive a stake into, Salome since it was Salome and me who had messed up Martha and me.

Mary and her cousin Salome were close to the same age, and so had played together since childhood. Their families had bestowed upon them large amounts of money and a certain amount of privilege locally. Unfortunately for their more traditional elders, both had sexual proclivities that once would have been described as nymphomania. Mary's father, a man of of very stern stuff and great power, had insisted that she go to SAA meetings, unless she wanted to suffer the greater evil of being institutionalized. I'd eventually negotiated that into having her confine her sexcapdes to her apartment and our own sex club, New Xanadu. Salome's father, with considerably less grit than Mary's, had not been able to control his daughter, who continued to scandalize. We had all breathed a sigh of relief when Salome had managed to infatuate, then marry, a Hollywood producer and move out West.

Now she was back, causing Martha to relive stuff she was happier not having her nose rubbed in. As for Mary, New Xanadu had kept her sex life out of her dad's headlights, and she didn't need Salome stirring up trouble that might catch his attention and irritate him by causing him to dwell on their earlier shenanigans together.

Thus, on top of the fact that we could use the $10K she brought up front, and who knows what other business from La La Land she might generate, all the more reason to approve Salome's Peremium membership. By applying the classic strategy of "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer" they could keep Salome from being scandalous at other Chicago sex clubs and private parties. You couldn't get much closer than having someone's dick in you and I, as Salome's "Daddy," not to mention as managing partner of New Xanadu, was the logical choice to be the dick.

I snuck a look over to the bar and found Martha standing behind it with a look of grim determination on her face. I could have tried to get out of this, but I hadn't been given a hall pass; I'd been given a direct order by a woman I still pined for. Whatever I felt about fucking Salome, and to be honest my big head and my little head were not on the same page, disappointing Martha was not something I was going to do.

I quickly finished my pop and asked Salome, "What's your pleasure then, a nice soft bed or a turn in the stocks?" (What we had was actually a pillory. Look it up if you don't know the difference.)

"Oh Daddy, please take me to the dungeon and whip me like you did before" Salome gushed. "Nobody's ever come close to that night, no matter how much I beg them. Then you can fuck me until I can't walk."

It didn't surprise me that nobody had ever treated Salome like I did that night. I've inflicted pain on more than a few women since then, when they asked for it. But I've always made a point of staying within their comfort, or rather discomfort, limits. That night with Salome, something about her had flipped a switch in my head. I wanted to hurt her, and I went way overboard trying to. It was ugly. I was an animal and it's a miracle that I did not cause her lasting damage. But she loved it, and from then on I was stuck with being her "Daddy." I doubted that I could repeat in cold blood what I had done in a frenzy that night. But I had my orders from Martha, so I was determined to give it my best shot.

For whatever reason, the dungeon was empty when we got to it. I suspected Martha or Mary may have arranged for that, because we were not joined by any lookers once we got underway, which is unusual. In the Master's Room I removed Salome's slave-girl tunic; ripped it off, actually. (One more charge against the money she'd brought in; nothing, really, next to a $3500 bottle of tequila,) I suspect she'd been planning on being whipped, because she was completely naked under it.

Rather than leading her by the hand, I pinched one of her nipples, hard, and pulled her by it to the pillory. It annoyed me that rather than yelping or trying to pull away from the pain, she just cooed "Oh, Daddy." So, rather than adjusting the height of the pillory for optimal fucking before fastening her into it, I lowered the bar, locked her in and then raised it until she was hanging off the ground. This was way against common sense, and I'd have had a stern talk with any member who did that, but I was trying to work myself into beast mode, and so far everything Salome had done was pissing me off.

I put some blocks, widely spaced so as to fully spread Salome's legs, and lowered the bar until she could stand on them. I stood behind her to make sure her cunt and my cock were in the same orbit, and I fingered her cunt, which was already slick.

Salome said in her little girl voice, "Not yet, Daddy. Whip me first. Please Daddy."

She needn't have worried. I wasn't even hard. Like I said, my big head and my little head were not in agreement on this, and at this point my big head seemed to be stronger. I began to fear that I might not be able to get it up, but quickly banished that thought as the one sure way to failure. I did take comfort from the selection of fake cocks along the wall. As far as I know nobody had ever used the big monster one. Well, I thought, if I can't provide a live dick, there's a first time for everything. She'd probably love the pain from that stretching anyway.

We had gotten rid of our whips after some idiot tried one on his girlfriend, with bloody results. Whips have no business in the hands of anyone not trained in their use. We'd also added a sign saying "First blood, session over." And, below that "Ignore this rule to be expelled for life." That still left me a nice selection of canes (now limited in weight and thickness thanks to other idiots), crops, paddles, belts and some light suede floggers.

I decided to start with a paddle to bring a little color and heightened sensitivity to Salome's ass, When it was nice and rosy I switched to a flogger, adding her thighs and back to the target areas. Throughout these early efforts Salome kept urging me on, "Harder, Daddy," and "I hardly felt that," between little gasps and moans that assured me that she had.

Almost all of Salome's back from her knees to her shoulder blades (I'd made a point of missing her kidneys) was colored up by the time I switched to a small flexible cane. My plan here was to produce about 30 parallel welts, each one the product of in increasingly powerful blow. I started at the top and worked down, so that the really hard ones would land on her ass. As before, Salome kept asking for more, and I kept not giving it as I tried to avoid breaking her skin. By the 8

th

stripe I decided to abandon my plan, and I went straight down to her ass where I could give her something closer to what she wanted. Another 10 hard strikes there had Salome writhing and moaning, and me running out of places I could hit without risking breaking her skin and drawing blood.

Moving from back to front, I found that while the center post of the pillory made it harder to reach all up and down her front, I was able to put stripes on her breasts. When I planted one that cut across her right nipple, Salome gave out a scream followed by full body spasms that told me that she had just had an orgasm.

After that I ditched the cane for a riding crop with a leather tongue at the end, returned to her back, and started working up her thighs until I reached her cunt. When I managed a direct hit with the tongue on her clit Salome finally gave an enthusiastic cry of "Yes, Daddy. That hurts so good. Spank my clit some more Daddy." Followed, of course her usual, "Harder."

I was glad that I finally appeared to be making her happy, because in spite of the erotic image before me, my frustration at not giving Salome as much pain as she wanted, and the realization that I probably would never be able to without completely losing my head, had softened my prick. But when the third flock of crop against clit made Salome come again, I began to harden. Another orgasm from the fifth hard whack of the crop on her anus finished getting me hard enough to fuck her. After another half dozen slaps of the crop on top of the welts on her ass to heighten their pain, I dropped the crop and lined myself up with her cunt.

There was no need for a gentle entry here, even had Salome wanted that, which I knew she didn't. By now she was dripping juices, and once she felt the tip of my prick on her cunt she was telling me "Fuck me hard Daddy. Ram that hard prick into your little girl."

I delivered one hard thrust, as requested. I hadn't been prepared for the resistance that I felt going in, or for the shriek that Salome let out. Then I remembered her hymen restoration that helped snare her husband to be. Sure enough, when I pulled my prick back, there was blood on it.

"For you, Daddy," Salome cooed, "Do you like the surprise I made for you?"

Yes, I liked it, and even if I hadn't I wouldn't have told her so. As with most gifts, it's the thought that counts. I told her I loved it and asked if it was okay for me to go on. Stupid question for a girl who was into pain. When Salome pushed her cunt back against my prick I got the message and began plowing her raw cunt her hard and fast, the way I knew she'd want it.

Once I resumed pile driving Salome it didn't take her long to get there again. But I held back long enough to pull out of her cunt and ram my dick all the way up her ass in one stroke. Another shriek from Salome as my balls slapped against her ass was enough to push me over the top.

When I'd caught my breath and my limp dick had dropped out of Salome's ass I walked around to face her and gave her a big kiss. "That was wonderful surprise from my good girl." I figured I owed her that "my good girl" in return for her giving me her maidenhead, even if it was at least her third one.

"Look, Salome, I'm sorry I let you down with the whipping. The truth is, I don't think I'll ever be able to do that the way that you want it ever again. I was really crazy that night, maybe even temporarily insane, and I'm amazed I didn't cause permanent damage. To get what you want in that department, I think you'll really need to find a professional Master."

"That's all right John," Salome sought to reassure me, though I noted the lack of "Daddy." Maybe my failure tonight had cured her of that. I certainly hoped so.

"I've probably over-built my memories these past few years. At least you tried and honestly, to quote that little flute player in

American Pie

, I've had worse. Now, unless you think you have anything left, how about you let me out of this contraption and we can go get something to eat and get down to business."

"Business?" I asked as I unlatched to top bar of the pillory and lifted it.

"Of course," she said as she stepped onto the floor. "This whole trip, including my membership, is a write-off for my production company. But you know me, it's always pleasure before business."

Picking up her ripped tunic she said, "I think wearing this might actually be sexier than dining in the raw, as long as I can sit so people can see the blood smears on my thighs. That ought to get the defloration fetishists going."

I couldn't argue with that. I looked down to see whether I still carried any gory traces from Salome's most recently popped cherry, and found that there was nothing to see unless I undressed completely. I borrowed a nipple clamp from our toys table to hold together the material at one shoulder of her torn tunic and got Salome back into it. She arranged it to proudly expose one breast bearing a couple of bright red stripes from her caning, then we headed back upstairs

When we got to the lounge I found Mary talking to a stocky middle-aged man with very well muscled arms, chest and legs. Not a muscle builder physique, but more like a guy who shifted heavy loads for a living. He stood when we arrived and Salome said to me, "John," again no Daddy, just as well I thought, "I'd like you to meet, uh, John." Turning to him she said, "Can I call you Johnny to sort of make things less confusing."

"Boss," he replied, "with what you pay me and the fringe benefits, you can call me anything you want."

Salome sat down, spreading her legs wide and lifting the hem of her tunic enough to give anyone walking by a good view of her recently re-spoiled cunt. When the rest of us were seated she said, "Herbie's still doing mainstream films, but he let me set up my own shop to make skin flicks. Johnny here is the principal cameraman for my production company. He and I have come here to pitch you a project, but after that little workout downstairs I could use some food and a couple of drinks."

Mary signaled to Ron who came over from behind the bar. Salome said to him, "Could I have some more of that lovely tequila that you gave me before, and would you also pour some for my friends here." I usually don't drink while on duty at the club, but somehow when faced with what was likely to be my only chance to taste that legendary elixir I managed to fight down the urge to say make mine a Diet Coke.

As we were sipping the liquid gold, Salome turned to Mary and asked if it would be okay for us to take food up to the attic apartment rather than eating in the lounge. Mary thought about that for a moment then said, "Taking food out of the lounge is really against the rules, but maybe it won't be a bad thing if we have to explain that a Premium membership buys you some leeway on little things like that."

It turned out that Ron had laid in a supply of carry-out boxes so that our employees could take home leftovers from the buffet. He also had a large picnic hamper that he used to send the remaining leftovers to a local homeless shelter. Using these, we managed to get our dinners and a few bottles of wine (and one bottle of Diet Coke) from the lounge to the elevator without too much fuss.

Once ensconced in the new attic apartment, we quickly finished off the food and half the wine (and pop; after all, I was in work mode again). Salome then asked us to gather in front of the large screen monitor so that she and her cameraman could give us a show and tell for her proposed project.