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
