The Fifty Per Cent Club
Readers please note that, while the sex and bondage in these chapters is largely consensual, that will not be the case as the story continues. Similarly, most of the sex is lesbian, but in future chapters there will be much greater diversity. Thank you for reading my work: I look forward to reading your comments.
Chapter One - Dinner
My name is Amelia, and I am a part-time pleasure slave. That status costs me the equivalent of about $1,500 a year; my subscription to the 50% Club. To be a part-time master or mistress is much more expensive, about $5000, so most of those who aspire to that status are fairly wealthy. I make a good living as an interior designer, but my hours- indeed my days and weeks- are very flexible.
Eventually I will give myself completely to a dominant man or woman, or a group of them, but I do not feel quite ready yet, although I am given to sudden impulses, usually after having orgasms while in bondage. I am, after all, only twenty-three. I skipped university to help my aunt with her design business, so I'm a few years ahead of most of my contemporaries.
I had chosen twenty-seven as the age at which I would stop making my own decisions, but recent developments have tempted me to bring the date forward. I rent my house, for there's no point in starting out on a twenty-five year mortgage. I bought a new car a few months ago, thinking that it would probably be my last. It's a strange thought to have at my age. I remember my grandfather saying the same thing, but he was seventy-nine.
Within about 150 miles of my home, the 50% Club hosts about twenty events a year. Most take the form of informal dinners, for which I pay about $100, and the dominants up to $300. The Club is something of a money pit, but it works on the assumption that it members have few other interests or commitments. There are no staff present at these events. Caterers are hired to provide the food and to leave it in containers that keep the hot food hot and the cold food cold. They also stock the kitchens and larder-fridges with breakfast and lunch items, and leave a few minutes before the first guests are due. Most never ask, but the curious are given the impression that the event has something to do with national security.
The events vary in size, and to some extent in format, but the last one- ten days ago- was fairly typical. I had to drive about sixty miles to get there and the location was quite remote, on land which was classified as a national forest. It was a two-storey lodge with about twenty-five rooms and two large spaces, one of which served as a dining room, the other being suitable for exhibitions or conferences. The grounds were very extensive, and very private, for the property was well-fenced.
There were no preliminaries. It was late spring and very warm, so we slavegirls were dressed in thin blouses and short skirts, with no underwear allowed. The slaveboys wore shorts. Most of the dominants were not dressed much differently, although some allowed themselves bras and/or knickers or underpants. They were distinguishable by the fact that they all wore watches, and did not leave their mobile 'phones in their cars. As a slave, I would not need to know the time, or to communicate with the outside world.
The organisers, who were among the diners, had placed name cards on all the places, alternating between subs and doms, but irrespective of other characteristics such as sex or sexual orientation. As a pleasure slave, I was required to be bisexual. At that time I had had only male masters, and could only wonder whether or not I would find lesbian sex difficult.
We did have help. My place, like all the others, came with a little envelope of pills that I knew would turn me, for a few days, into a sex addict who would crave any kind of sensual contact with anyone who claimed me. One of the many benefits of membership was access to drugs and other treatments of which the general public and their doctors were completely ignorant. When I sat at my place I was soon joined by a very handsome and powerful-looking black woman on my right, who introduced herself as Maddie, which was not her real name. On my left sat a mild-mannered man of about thirty, who was reasonably attractive with a very trim and fit-looking body, and called himself Tony.
We all exchanged basic information about where we came from and what we did for a living, but we were just passing the time politely. When all the places were occupied, the man at the head of the rectangle stood up and tapped a glass to get our attention. He did not give a speech, or say any words of welcome. He just tossed a coin, and called "Heads." "Slaves, look to your right," he said, and sat down.
Everyone knew what was meant by the little ceremony. Maddie was now my mistress, and I was her sex-slave for the next three days. She was allowed to arrange exchanges with other members, but she could not abandon me completely She could do almost anything she liked with me, but sadistic tortures, scat, and punishments that left permanent marks were forbidden. There were rules, but by and large the Club relied on its members' common sense. When the three days were up, all the slaves had to be fit to do their jobs and appear in public.
Although I had managed to remain outwardly calm, my skin had been prickling since Maddie and Tony had sat down with me. Now the latter was out of the picture as he turned to assess the girl on his left, who was flushing bright red. Maddie was turning towards me, and it was my duty to turn to her, to enable her to examine me properly.
I thought that she was about five years older than me, and larger all round, with a firm, athletic body and quite big breasts. Her face was broader than mine and her mouth quite large, with very full but soft-looking lips. Her nose was slightly flattened, and her eyes big and brown. Her hair, like mine, was straight but trained into a short bob. As she looked at me her lips parted slightly, and I felt a hunger radiating from her, a
presence
- a charisma- that I had not sensed from any of my other users.
I was hers, if she wanted me, for the next three days, and if she did not want me, she would give me to someone else. There was no way out of that, for the Club did not allow safe words or early departures. As if to underline the point, before she said a word she made a circling motion with her finger, and took a pair of police handcuffs from her only pocket. I turned away and put my wrists behind my back, and a moment later I felt the metal on them, and they were locked together. The same kind of thing was happening all around the table, although some of the dominants locked their slaves' wrists in front of their bodies. Some had brought a collar with them and locked their slave's wrists to that.
Only masters and mistresses were allowed to visit the buffet table, bringing back oversized plates from which to feed both themselves and their slaves. The food included some delicious rare roast beef, some succulent prawns and some brown shrimps which are particular favourites of mine, as well as a wide range of salads. I was lucky that Maddie did not bring back anything horrible, for tongue, calamari and oysters were all available to those with a taste for rubbery and slimy foods. Wine, water and fruit juice was already on the table, and straws were available for those of us who could not pick up our glasses.
Dinner was supposed to take some time, with the process of feeding being a means of breaking the ice for those who were enslaving, or being enslaved by, total strangers. It was against the rules to force slaves to eat things that disgusted them, or to make them drink alcohol, so some discussion was inevitable. There was plenty of time to talk, and Maddie was eager to hear about my previous experiences, as we had never encountered one another before.
"This is only my third occasion, mistress," I admitted, for I had been a member for only two months. "I'm afraid that you're my first female owner, mistress, so I hope that I won't be a disappointment to you."
I was actually finding her, at close quarters, very interesting. I had never been with a black person before, and she seemed to be what might be described as an "alpha female," with a face and body that were strong but feminine, combined with a more masculine, domineering manner. I sensed that Tony, on my other side, was not at all domineering, but relied on his slavegirl's instinctive submissiveness. While he was feeding her poached salmon he was also slipping his hand up her skirt, and she was struggling to take the food and act normally with his hand groping her vulva. He seemed quite like my second master, and life would probably have been simpler with him, but I was glad of the opportunity to test my lesbian skills. I was, after all, used to masturbating, so in theory I knew how to please a woman.
Maddie soon tired of hearing about my experiences. "I'm sure you'll do your best not to disappoint me, Amelia," she replied. "I can be demanding, but if I'm not satisfied I'll always give you a second chance, after a whipping, of course. Don't expect to be exchanged. I like the look of those tits of yours. In fact, it's time to get them out. Personally, I don't think that slaves should be allowed clothing."
She quickly undid the buttons of my blouse and pulled it open, leaving my boobs hanging free. They were entirely natural but big for my relatively slim figure; soft and pendulant but bulky enough to stand well out from my chest, with the pink, square-sectioned nipples pointing almost straight ahead. She grasped both breasts in her hands, and I looked around nervously, relieved to see that some of the other girls were already topless. I knew that events could move quickly, for at my first Club dinner my slave virginity had not outlasted the main course. Nevertheless, I could not help being a little bit shy, and I was even more self-conscious when Maddie dropped her handfuls of flesh to resume my feeding.
"I didn't think they made beef like this anymore," she remarked as she chewed a mouthful. "Do you like horseradish sauce on it?"
