The Club: a Beginning

Note: This is the first part of a new story series I plan to write. I would like as much feed back as possible to finish it the way my readers want it finished.

*****

Suzanne was nervous, there was no denying it. But she had made a commitment, and even if she hadn't she had accepted the fact that there was no turning back now. What was going to happen to her was going to happen one way or another, and she might as well go along with it.

Her name was Suzanne, and she was sitting in the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car next to her master. He was not her husband, but he owned her in a way that went deeper than marriage in some ways. She called him Sire. In fact she had called him this for so long that his real name was almost lost to her. She could remember it if she tried... but his given name wasn't who he was to her. He would always be Sire to her.

They had been driving for almost an hour. He had picked her up at the airport today. Truthfully they were from the same city, but she needed an excuse to be away from her husband for a few days. She had him drop her off at the airport that afternoon, gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek, and told him he loved her. And she did. He told her to have a nice time at the Elementary School Teachers Convention, and said that he would pick her up in three days.

Three days!! She had three days to make all of her fantasies come true. It hardly seemed like enough time. And yet she knew the hard use she would be put too, and three days also seemed like an eternity. Would she be able to make it?

In her normal life, she was a first grade school teacher. She was a Southern girl, through and through; kind, decent, respectable and responsible. Physically she was beautiful! There was no denying it. Well, she didn't see it, not so much anymore, but she couldn't deny the attention men gave her. She couldn't explain away the double takes and attention any other way. At forty four, she had dark auburn hair and pale, velvety skin. Much younger women would kill for a body like hers, slender, and round in all the right places, a little softer now, perhaps, but her husband liked it that way. Her Sire insisted on it. She had freckles from the sun on her shoulders, her cheeks and the tops of her breasts. She thought they were too small... but they were perfect. She didn't see it in herself, but the truth was she was a treasure to be cherished. A priceless sexual object that charged every room she walked into. Her most striking feature, though, were her eyes. Her eyes were her crown jewels, deep deep green and bottomless, they drew men in. A man could drown in those eyes and consider it a good death.

"Its almost time" he said. His voice was casual, but carried the power and authority it always did. His voice alone was enough to excite her. It scared her how much it excited her. "Shoes and cape only"

***

Both the shoes and the cape had been a gift to her. Long after her husband left the airport, long after she was quite sure that he was home, she walked to baggage claim, then to the arrivals gate where he had picked her up in his car. He had his usual driver,a stoic man that never spoke and never seemed to notice anything that went on in the car. She was sure he had seen her naked several times, seen her go down on Sire, seen her shame herself the time he had commanded her to masturbate in the backseat. Even so, she had never seen his eyes so much as move.

The car took them from the airport to a nice hotel. Sire already had a key to their room and he lead them upstairs. He made her leave her bag in the car. She would not need anything in it. Not for the next three days. When they entered the room he drew the blinds, and said "Fourth Position, Up". Though barely whispered, it was a command.

Fourth Position meant that she was supposed to stand in front of him with her legs spread further than the width of her slender shoulders. Her arms were folded behind her back, each hand holding onto the opposite elbow, her eyes down cast. Up was a command to stand on her toes. When she first gave herself over to him, this was a real problems for her. Her feet weren't strong enough. But after a year of practice, she could stand on her toes for an hour and never twitch.

He had taught her the positions. Fourth meant that he wanted access to her body, but wasn't going to fuck her. At least not yet. Fourth was an administrative position. It meant he was going to do something to her. Had she displeased him already? Would she be whipped?

She was dressed as a school teacher. She was dressed not to impress. She was dressed comfortably, but not sloppily. He approached her and said "This won't do at all." He removed from his pocket a large pair of fabric scissors. They looked well polished and dangerously sharp. He started at the bottom of her shirt. It was too long for her and over sized. He began cutting straight up the front. She felt the cold of the steel trail along the skin between her breasts. It made her shudder. After the ruined shirt was completely slit up the front, he pulled it back and off her shoulders. It stayed attached at her arms, because he had not commanded her to move them.

Under her shirt was a much more satisfactory story. She was wearing a grey lace bra. She knew it was his favorite color and she had bought it as a surprise for him. He smiled, almost imperceptibly, but she knew he liked it. And then, with a tiny flick of his wrist, he cut that off of her too. Her breasts fell out of the ruined thing, and her nipples immediately reacted to the cold air of the room, contracting and lengthening. Her breathing deepened. He had never cut her clothes off of her before. It was incredibly exciting.

Next came the yoga pants she was wearing. He slid the tip of the scissors under the fabric of the waist band, and with deliberate snips he clipped all the way down one leg, and then the other. The pants fell to the floor, and she was left standing in her tennis shoes, socks, panties and the shredded shirt and bra, still attached to her arms. Her panties matched her bra, and she hated to lose them, but knew it was no hope. Snip, snip! They were gone.

With her legs spread so wide, her pussy was clearly visible and slightly opened, not the least because of how turned on she was. He reached out and ran his finger between her lips, not penetrating her, but clearly finding her wet. He lifted the moist finger to his mouth and tasted her, he truly smiled for the first time this trip. The taste of her pleased him. It always did.

"Its not allowed," He said. "Your cunt must be cleanly shaved. Its the rules of the club."

She had never shaved her pussy before. She trimmed it, of course. She did that often, especially during bikini season. She hated when her hair peeked out of her bottoms. But shaved? Only teenage girls did things like that.

"Take the rest of your clothes and shoes off, and come with me."

She did as she was told. He sat her on the bathroom counter and made her spread her legs as far as she could. So far it hurt. Her hands clasped behind her again, he began his work. He brought out a dish of old fashioned shaving soap and a fine bristled brush and began to work it into a lather. He painted it on her, working it into the hair, careful not to miss anything. Then he brought out a safety razor and began to scrape. He pulled and pinched the skin, careful not to cut her. He took his time with the project, making her feel exposed, but protected at the same time. Occasionally his fingers or the cold steel of the razor would brush against her clitoris, and she would gasp. Engrossed in his project as he was, he didn't bother to correct her. He had not given permission for her to make a noise.

When he was done, he rinsed the razor and then ran his hands over her soft skin, probing for any errant hairs he missed. The juices poured from her. She had never had a man spend this much time touching her pussy without fucking her. It was intoxicating.

"Arms up", he said. She complied.

He ran his hand under one arm, and then the other, feeling the days worth of stubble under each. He lathered her arm pits as well. This time the brush tickled horribly, and she felt her chest and neck flush. She did not squirm though. She knew better than that. He scrapped away the stubble, rinsing the razor as needed. When he was done, he once again carefully checked her for stubble.

"Stand up, turn around and bend over the sink". She did as she was instructed. The cold marble of the sink made her breath catch when she pressed her nipples against it. Once again she folded her arms behind her back, and laid her face against the tile. He had taught her this position as well. It was his favorite position to fuck her in. This time his hands found her voluptuous ass and spread the cheeks. His fingers probed, he found the fine hairs there, and began to lather the inside of the crack of her ass. The brush did not tickle here, but every time it brushed against her rosebud she twitched. She began to get terrified that he would play with her there. She did not enjoy anal sex, he knew this. He had never taken her there, not yet anyway, but she was always afraid that one day he would.

"Take your hands and spread your cheeks". Once again a command. She did so, leaving herself ultimately exposed, nothing left to hide, her last level of dignity laid bare. Again with the same deliberate care he shaved her there, removing all traces of hair and then rinsing the blade in the sink next to her right breast. "Cross your arms again"

She heard the sound of his zipper and knew what was about to happen. She braced herself for him. She knew, just by how excited she was, that he would be rough with her. When she was turned on, he made her work that much harder for her orgasm. Made her endure.

Oh, god... she thought, was it going to be anal, finally?

But no, it wasn't. He guided his rock hard cock into her pussy and then grabbed her by the hips. He wasted no time at all. They were both too turned on to wait. Immediately he started thrusting into her. He would push her away with his hands, and then pull her back to him as he thrust. His thighs slapped against her ass. Her whole world dissolved into the pleasure and sensation between her legs. She heard a grunting moan and wondered if it was her own. Had that noise come from her? Would he be mad?

He tensed and slammed into her one more time, she felt his cum fill her and it pushed her over the edge. Gasping for air, she came in a rush of muscle spasms and cries of pleasure. The after effects of his orgasm still made his cock jerk inside of her as her pussy clamped down on him. Slowly and carefully he pulled out of her. Their combined fluids were slowly running down her thighs.

"Fourth", he said. "Up"

Her knees felt week and she was shaking from the adrenaline and the pleasure of it. But even so, she rushed to comply. She stood before him, eyes downcast, skin cold, feeling something run down the inside of her leg to her knee, and unable to move to wipe it.

Then he gave her a very rare treat. He undressed in front of her. He had only done this a couple of times before, and she loved it. He was handsome, of course. She wouldn't have been with him if he wasn't. She liked the way the muscles moved under his skin. She liked the way he neatly folded his suit and placed it on top of the toilet. She loved the way he seemed so confident, completely unashamed of his nudity. She remembered something she had read in a book once: "Before a man can truly own a woman, he must own himself."

He turned on the shower and waited until it was hot. He drew back the curtain and retrieved a hair clip he had left on the counter. He handed it to her and told her to tie her hair up and back. She did so with a few deft movements, practiced over many years.

He took her by the hand, and lead her into the shower. It was that strange gentleness he was sometimes capable of. She loved this side of him too. She NEEDED the rough part, sometimes she thought she needed it to breath. But she loved this part.

The shower was way too hot, but she said nothing. She knew he had made it uncomfortable for both of them for his own reasons. She waited as he positioned her the way that he wanted her and then he took a wash cloth, soaped it and began to wash her. It was a very thorough job. He paid special attention to the places he had shaved, making sure to scrub off any traces of shaved hair. He reached between her legs and scrubbed her pussy. The rough cloth against her softest skin hurt, but also felt good. He took a long time there and she could feel another orgasm building. Then he turned her around and bent her over to clean her bottom. At last, when he was done, he detached the shower sprayer from the wall and rinsed her. He pulled her close to him and aimed the sprayer, on its most gentle setting, right at her clitoris. He trapped her with his arm. It was so hot!! But the pulses also felt good, and of course she came in seconds.

He rinsed her one more time and then shut off the shower. The bathroom was steamy and the mirror was fogged. But it didn't matter, he was taking care of her. She had nothing to fear when she was with him, except for his desire. But that was the excitement.

He removed a towel from the rack, much larger and softer than the last one, and carefully dried her whole body with the softness and the pats that one would dry a baby. Then in a much more practical manner he hastily dried himself, dressed in his suit, and opened the door to the spacious bathroom.

The inrush of the chilled air was like a slap across her whole body! Her nipples instantly hardened. She shivered and felt her flesh goose pimple.

"Come with me", he said and walked out into the sitting room of the hotel. "Ninth position".

This was the worst possible position for him to make her get in in the cold. She stood flat footed, with her legs apart and the fingers of her hands intertwined behind her head. He sat across from her in a straight backed arm chair and crossed his legs. His eyes were looking into her.

"Close your eyes", he said. She did as she was told. The initial shock of the cold air was wearing off and she was starting to warm up.

"What are the rules?" he asked her. "List them for me."

She responded without hesitation. She felt the rules were written on her soul at this point. The rules were her guide to making him happy, and nothing mattered more to her than making him happy.

"One, I belong to you. You do with me as you desire. Two, I have no say in how you use me. I am your instrument. Three, I must follow all of your commands, quickly and without complaint. Four, I am not allowed to speak or make noise without your permission. Five, You may punish me for all transgressions. You may punish me for your pleasure. Six, the arrangement is only over when you say it is. Seven, you may give me to someone else, either temporarily or permanently. Eight, I will please them as I please you."

"Very good. I'm proud of you. I have a gift for you. Open your eyes" He stood up and went to the closet and came out with a box. It was wrapped in purple paper. She knew immediately that he had wrapped it himself. No one else would take that much care. He set it on the sofa, and said "Open it."

Excited for the gift, she ran to the sofa and tore into it. This was allowed. He had told her before that she did not have to carefully unwrap it. Her enthusiasm pleased him.

Inside was something amazing. It was a long purple velvet cape. It was luxurious! it felt like the softest material she had ever seen. It shimmered in the lamplight. It must have cost him a fortune. It was so soft, it almost felt alive.

"Put it on for me", he commanded.

Gladly! She twirled it around her shoulders and let it settle against her bare skin. It was heavy, it must have been lined on the inside. It was warm and soft and felt like a place of safety. He approached her and helped her straighten it. She could see at once that it was more of a cloak than a cape. It had a hood and it reached down to her ankles. It had clasps in front, to keep it closed, but she also saw that they could all be undone quickly, almost effortlessly.

"Do you like it?", he asked. "You may speak".

"Oh god, yes. Its beautiful."

"No, you're beautiful", he said. "The cape is only an adornment."

She nodded her consent, because she knew he wanted her to, but she never thought of herself as beautiful the way he claimed to.

"This cape was custom made for me, so that I could present you to the club tonight," He said. "Most women show up in white. White is the color of beginnings. These are for women that are willing to be introduced to the club, but have never been trained. They get their training in the club itself. Some women are introduced in grey silks. Grey silk is for professionals. These are women that we hire to service us. They receive wages for their submission. There are very very few that are brought in with black. Black is the color of women that have been trained and given to multiple masters. These are women that are practically slaves. They have given over their free will and their choice years ago. They are inevitably very skilled and very quick to please, but they always have a stale air about them.

"It is most rare is for someone to be introduced in purple, as you will be tonight. Purple means that you have studied and been trained, but you have only been taken by one master. Purple means that you are royalty in this club. It does not mean anyone will take it easy on you or show you favoritism. It grants you only one privileged: It means that I must give my permission before anything can be done to you. It means that I am your only protection. Do you understand".

"Yes Sire", she said. She felt the fear and excitement of her role at the club almost overwhelm her.

"You have asked me to take you to this club, and I feel you have earned it. But there are rules for the club. Listen carefully. One, I am your only protection. Two, you must wear a blindfold the entire time you are there. You are not allowed to know anyone that uses you. Three, you must do anything anyone tells you to do, unless I instruct you otherwise. Four, you must be pleasing to the people at the club, because you are a reflection of me."

She nodded because that's what he wanted.

"What are the rules of the club," he asked.

"One, you are my only protection. Two, I must wear a blindfold the entire time I am there. I am not allowed to know anyone that uses me. Three, I must do anything anyone tells me to do, unless you instruct me otherwise. Four, I must please the people at the club because I am a reflection of you."

"Good," he said. "Time to finish getting ready. You will need to wear more clothes for the drive to the club in case we get stopped. Its for our safety."

He handed her another package. It contained a pair of plain cotton purple panties, a plain purple bra, and a pair of fancy purple high heels. She did not want to remove her cloak to put the bra on, but he helped her take it off and she quickly got dressed. He took her hair clip out and shook her hair free letting it fall about her shoulders. He reseated the cloak, and fastened it in the front. He lifted the hood over her head, and she was surprised to find it covered her whole head, almost making it hard to see out of. He took her by the arm and lead her out of the room and down to the car.

***

Back in the car, he had just told her it was time. She lifted her rump off the seat and slid the panties town her legs. They had been comfortable, if plain. She handed them to him, and was embarrassed to find that they had soaked through. He let her unfasten her cloak but stopped her before she took it off. He removed a switch blade knife from his pocket and snapped the blade out. He quickly snipped the straps from her shoulders and removed the bra. He refastened the cloak for her. She was completely nude except for that, and the high heels.