The club Eros is well known for its wide range of sinfully delicious acts it offers. As the best sex dungeon in town, it truly provides a unique and outrageous experience every night. Attendees can only come via a personal invitation from the mysterious owner. Even the most successful, rich, and famous individuals find it difficult to procure an invitation. It's rumored some have even murdered others just for the chance of an invitation. I happen to find myself possessing one of these rare invites, delivered to my hotel room in a black envelope with a golden seal shaped like a luscious woman's ample breast. It came with a simple set of instructions: dress to impress, bring your invitation for entry, arrive promptly at 8 o'clock, and tell no one what you saw. It's what I expected, truth be told, but a final handwritten instruction left me intrigued and curious. Bring plenty of cash, specifically dollar bills and quarters.
I dressed in a form-fitting black three-piece suit accented with a blood-red waistcoat and golden cuff links. I had no idea why I had caught the attention of the elusive club owner, but I was not one to turn down such a perfect gift. Many have been said to go mad wondering what goes on behind its dark pink walls and flashing blue signs. While those who entered would merely give a dreamy, almost hazy orgasmic grin when asked what was inside. Today would be the day I discovered what lurked behind these walls. A hulking figure that cast a dark shadow across the entryway, checked over my invitation and waved me in.
"Enjoy the attraction tonight, sir. I hope you brought plenty of cash," he said with a grin while lifting the red velvet rope. I entered through two large obsidian doors, waiting at the entrance were a redheaded man and woman, both wearing tight suits it a deep bow. They looked like they could be twins, as they raised in unison with welcoming smiles.
"Welcome, dear guest, we have been awaiting your arrival. We hope you will enjoy today's attraction, for the owner has truly created a splendid show. Follow us to your suite tonight, as each show will be a private exhibition." They waved their hands to the right where a bubbly and large-chested maid appeared at the hall entrance. Her latex maid outfit was short, cutting off halfway down her thigh, and shined in the neon pink lights of the hall. The latex-hugged, every curve and oiled to perfection. She walked me down the hall, beckoning my way, dozens of doors held muffled moans and gasps of pleasure. I tried my best to focus on the maid, but my curiosity was beginning to hunger for a glimpse into these unknown worlds. Finally, at the end of the hall, at the last door the maid halted and opened it for me, she nodded her head and waved me inside.
A plush black leather couch was settled in the middle of the room, and in front of it hidden beneath a deep blue curtain, appeared to be a large box. It stood at least 6 foot 5 inches in height and was wide enough to contain many human or larger-sized items. I slowly approached the couch and unbuttoned my suit jacket before taking a seat on the inviting couch. The maid stood in front of the mysterious box and began to recite a very well-rehearsed speech.
"Welcomed honored guest. We at Club Eros are proud to present the most recent exhibitions here in our sacred halls. To your left is a money bowl to place the cash you were instructed to bring, this is so it is easier to access once the entertainment begins. We would like to remind guests that all participants are consenting to this performance but can stop this at any time. So please respect our friends and co-workers with the utmost reverence," She motioned to a big purple cord connected to the curtains, "When you are ready to begin, please pull the cord and enjoy the show." She took a bow and shuffled out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
It was just me and the mystery box.
I wanted to enjoy this moment, so I took my time before unwrapping my present. I emptied the contents of my wallet into the bowl as instructed. Removed my jacket and neatly folded it along the couch before unbuttoning and rolling up my sleeves. A minibar was located to my right, with a written sign stating it was complimentary. I found a set of whiskey glasses and a bottle of the house's home-brewed whiskey. I poured myself a glass with two ice cubes, I let it slowly move its way down my throat. It was earthy, with a gentle burn with an aroma of cinnamon and apples. I had settled in quite nicely; it was time to see what was behind curtain number 1.
With a drink in hand, I pulled the cord. The blue curtain fluttered to the floor like a wave crashing to shore. Before me sat the bulkiest pink and black vending machine I have ever seen in my life. The base paint is blushing pink while the words are done in glittery night sky black, the top of the machine reads Pleasure Machine. The buttons are unreadable as no light illuminates them, at the very top the numerous buttons are a coin slot and dollar feeder with simple elegant letters that read Feed Me, Daddy.
Is this supposed to be some sort of condom and toy dispenser? I thought to myself, disappointed. All that build-up, and it's a fancied-up condom machine, what a pathic game. I scoff and take another sip of whiskey; I pace the room for a moment, wondering if I've been made a fool. Thinking I should call it an evening and take myself home before suffering further humiliation. But as I grab my jacket, I stop myself. Eyeing the cash bowl, plucking a shiny quarter from its horde I had gathered.
It wouldn't be too much of a hassle to place one in the machine and let them laugh. I twirl the quarter in between my fingers while taking steps toward the vending machine. Show them I'm a good sport and go, and it'll cost me nothing but a quarter.
Place the quarter in the coin slot and press a random button. The machine comes alive; the buttons shine in their neon hue one by one. And as the inside begins to illuminate, the center of the machine shows me its dark purpose.
In the center of this machine are no snacks or drinks, or even condoms. But a beautiful blonde and blue-eyed girl. She is on her ass, legs bound to the ceiling and arms pinned behind her back. Her beautiful cunt and heaving breasts are on complete display. Naked and wild-eyed, she blinks in discomfort at the sudden bright lights, attempting to squirm but barely able to make a single movement. She looks around, unable to see me, the glass must work as a one-way mirror. My mouth hangs open suddenly I am very thirsty and it's not for the whiskey spilling on the floor next to where I dropped it. After a moment, I'm finally able to remove my eyes from her and down the illuminated buttons. The first three read as "Tease 25 Cents, Tickle 75 Cents, and Vibration 1.00 Dollar." My eyes follow the flashing timer just above the cash taker, which reads Every quarter is 5 minutes, every dollar is an hour.
The bowl of cash is in my hand once again, like a man possessed with a mission I place the next quarter in the machine.
A robotic voice sings seductively, "Thank you for your purchase deploying Tease for 5 minutes." The girl's blue eyes go wide and begin to dart wildly around her, searching for the source of the voice as slots start to open from the walls inside the vending machine. I slowly step back onto the plush couch, not wanting to let my eyes miss a single moment of this. From the opened slots on her right and left, two robotic arms come out and grip her breast roughly squeezing them in between their chrome, probably icy fingertips. She tries to let out a surprised yelp, but it comes out as a muffled cry due to the gag tied around her mouth.
I watch as she futilely tries to twist out of the grasp of the mechanical hands, as they begin to massage and stroke lightly across her ample breast. She tries this for a couple of seconds, till one of her pale nipples is pinched between its fingers. I watch as a chill shivers up her spine and a muffled moan escapes her as it begins to roll her sensitive nipples. She arches her back into it as both hands begin to work her nipples, rolling, pinching and even tugging at random intervals. They become perfect pink mountain tips under the robotic hand's skilled programming. At first, she moans sweetly beneath her eyes rolling back in ecstasy, I'm sitting on the edge of my seat my whiskey turned lukewarm, untouched in my hand. At the 4-minute and 20-second mark, her moans become frustrated groans as she attempts to lift her ass, grinding the air. Her attention is below, but the robotic hands ignore her motion and continue teasing her breast till her nipples are as flushed as her cheeks.
