A Night @ the Submission House

Desire in hell.

Paradise on a silver platter.

Sex and pleasure unlike anything she could have envisioned beholding inside the mansion. Yet with all that passed before Jolene's eyes, everything she duly noted and absorbed, she couldn't think of a concrete word or phrase to sum up what she beheld. Just when she thought she had a befitting word to describe it all, her eyes befell on something else that swept the initial word off her mind. Something outrageous, repulsively decadent, and just plain bizarre . . . and yet she couldn't help but feel welcomed by it.

She and Bunny stuck with each other like Siamese twins while Hailey broke off and went with Gail and Monica, who looked just as delighted and unperturbed with exploring the mansion's sanctum. Monica wore a black leather tank top, mini-skirt that barely covered her butt, and knee-length booths. Her top hugged her breasts so tight they, too, seemed to want to roam free like she.

Plenty other women wore similar outfit like her. Some wore matching S&M outfit with their male partners, whereas Jolene was awfully intimidated by others she encountered wearing dominatrix-type gear. Everyone wore face masks and Jolene couldn't help but notice the different color of bracelets on their wrists. Gail's bracelet was silver. Later Jolene would learn that one of the easy and suitable means to obtain full membership was inviting a certain number of women or couples to sign up at the club. Was it actually a club? Everything she saw as she and Bunny furtively roamed one corridor after another, observing the perverted sexual debauchery happening in each room, seemed to tell her otherwise. One time they had been trailing after Gail and the others, but with each succeeding stop they made to investigate the rooms, Jolene realized they were alone with themselves. It felt to her like she was back at the swingers' house where she and Marty went with the couple during their honeymoon. Except here the unabashed sex was far more erotic and even memorable than anything she'd encountered before.

They left the corridor they were in and returned to the main ballroom from whence they had started. Every branching corridor in the ground floor converged into the ballroom, which contained a buffet table laden with assortment array of cuisine and plenty of liquor to quench all appetite. Many of the couples, especially the women, paraded about, some flirting openly with whichever black man they encountered. In the Submission House, all women were hands-off by their husbands or companions to do whatever they pleased with their chosen black men.

Jolene and Bunny went and sat at the bar that took up the left section of the room. Bunny turned to look everywhere and was just as awed by everything she saw. They ordered two Bloody Maries with twisted lemon—everything in the house was free. Other women too occupied the bar, some chattered while sipping drinks from flute glasses or smoking cigarettes. The men paraded about, observing their women accost any black man they found and then walking off with them into any of the adjoining corridors. The black men all wore black Speedos and black face masks. They were all muscle and their package appeared to swell their crotch as if to let everyone know they were ready for business. Jolene caught sight of Monica locked in the arm of a black man, even heard her laugh at whatever before they then slinked out of view. Across from the bar, past a see-through curtain, was a rectangular room with blue lights on the walls. A rectangular bed filled the room and it was occupied with numerous women that were getting fucked. Their male counterparts stood before the curtain watching the show. Jolene craned her head to see past the small crowd and could heard explicit moaning cries coming from the room as well see one or two of the women inside enjoying their black lovers. As if too afraid to get drawn in, she turned to face the bar and sipped her drink.

"Hi there."

A woman's silky voice spoke behind her, followed by a hand that tapped her shoulder. Jolene turned in her seat to look at the woman. She had a thick mane of silver hair and a perfect hour-glass for a body. She wore a net swim dress showcasing her voluptuous breasts. Jolene thought how perfect her breasts looked, and was even surprised later to find out they were real. The woman had a pair of blue eyes staring at her from behind her face mask and her smiling pink lips.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Jolene said, then gestured at Bunny. "So, too, is my friend here."

The woman exchanged handshake with Bunny, though her interest remained on Jolene.

"By the way, I'm—"

The woman stopped her by raising a finger to her lips, still maintaining the pert smile on her lips.

"No names, and no identity," she said. "Those are Submission House rules. Aliases are fine, but no real names. I want you for my playmate. Come with me."

Jolene was stymied by the woman's commanding tone as she was still ogling her body behind her swimsuit. The woman extended her hand toward her and Jolene noted the platinum bracelet on her wrist. Jolene left her martini drink on the counter and took the woman's hand as came down from her stool. Bunny was looking at both of them curiously.

"You going to be okay alone?" Jolene asked Bunny.

"Don't worry about her," the woman said and she looked around she found a lonely black man and gestured at him to come over.

"Our friend here will take excellent care of her while we do our thing," the woman purred.

The black man slid past Jolene to go and stand beside Bunny. Bunny looked uncertainly tense and uncomfortable as the man felt his hand on her thigh. Bunny drained her martini drink then allowed the man help her down from the bar stool. She looked at Jolene, wanting to voice a complaint but the words never left her lips. Jolene watched the man lead Bunny away from them without a word, and her mystery playmate watched as the crowd of onlookers parted way for the man to lead Bunny into the curtained sex room.

"I've never . . . never been here before?" Bunny admitted as the man found them a spot amid the mingling bodies on the bed.

"Really?" the man's voice was deep and seductive. "Aren't you enjoying the place so far?"

"Oh yes, I definitely am," Bunny replied.

The man laid her next to another couple and Bunny gasped when his hands stole under her top to grope her breasts. Her nipples became instantly hard before he even made contact and she couldn't help feel over his arm while his thighs pressed against hers.

"God, I want something better right now," she moaned.

"I've got what you need right here," he guided her hand toward his crotch.

Jolene and the mystery woman pushed past the viewing crowd to see the man relieve Bunny of her top and then wrapped her breasts around his face while she threw her head back and moaned from the experience. Jolene felt her playmate's hand caressing her arm. She luxuriated in her soothing touch while watching Bunny become absorbed by her passion as were other couples in the room.

"You see what I told you?" the woman said to her. "I told you your friend is going to be fine. How about we find ourselves someplace to know each other better. Come with me."

The woman took her hand and led her away from the crowd toward the staircase at the right corner of the room.

"What's upstairs?" Jolene asked.

She looked over her shoulder and saw a white man in a pair of briefs wearing a dog collar with a chain dangling from his neck.

"And who is he?"

"Upstairs is a lot quieter," said her playmate. "Better rooms and more energetic cocks to fuck. And don't mind the slave behind you. That's my husband."

* * * * *

Jolene never got a chance to spot the two men standing at the far end of the room watching her walk up the stairs with the woman leading her along.

Marty and Daniel had been roaming in and out of the rooms on the ground floor trying to locate Jolene and her crew, but doing it as inconspicuous as they could. Even that was hard as there were more rooms on the lower floor than they could inspect. Marty was the one attempting to be low-key, whereas Daniel wanted nothing but to ditch his corner and explore the diverse rooms they had been through, watching other husbands enjoy the voyeurism of seeing their wives get fucked by the number of black men around.

"Where do you think she's going?" Marty asked. He turned to his side but to his surprise Daniel wasn't there anymore. He looked around in near panic and saw him wandering off toward the bar. Marty groaned irritably and made his way through the crowd to go meet him.

"The hell are you doing?" Marty spoke through a tight lip when he joined him at the bar.

Daniel adjusted his glasses behind his face mask before answering. "The hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm watering down. Chill your horses and have one." He handed Marty a flute glass before taking his own. "A little champagne would do you good. Cheers."

Marty looked at him baffled as he drank from his glass but continued holding his. "I want to know what's upstairs. Where do you think Jolene's off to with that woman?"

"I might have an idea, but you're going to have to find out yourself. Oh, by the way, in case you're thinking about it, you can't just waltz up there on your own. Not with your bracelet color. Submission House rules is what Donald told me. You'll have to find a Mistress to lead you up there," Daniel drank from his glass again and smacked his lips. "Damn. This is some expensive stuff."

"What do you mean 'a Mistress'?"

"Every woman you see in here is considered a Mistress," Daniel explained. "And every husband or companion is a slave. Get the picture?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Look around you, Marty. Does any of this look seem like some joke to you? Those masked men in tux we met outside, they've got more upstairs too. You go up there on your own, and you're gonna get dragged downstairs and then you and I are possibly getting kicked out of this place for good. This place has got monitors all around, so don't dare think of trying any shit in here. You ain't a platinum member. Only way your ass is getting up there is finding yourself a platinum wrist-wearing Mistress to take you on as her pet."

Marty frowned at the mention of that. "Pet?"

"That's what I said, ain't it? Look, watch and learn."

Daniel emptied his glass and returned it on the counter. He tapped Marty's arm and winked at him before scuttling off before Marty could guess what he was about to do. Marty watched as Daniel approached a gorgeous damsel in a low-cut dress. The woman was conversing with other women, all of them laughing at something and holding flute glasses in their hands. Marty watched with stunned horror as Daniel dropped before the woman's knees and got busy kissing her foot. The woman didn't bat at eye at him or even make like she was aware of his presence. She gave no response except continue conversing with her friends. Daniel was undeterred, Marty noticed, as he caressed the woman's legs while still kissing her ankles. Eventually the woman looked down at him and gestured at him to rise. Marty watched his friend bow his head to the woman as he addressed her; Marty was too far to hear whatever he was saying to her. The woman then broke away from her friends and went in the direction of the stairs with Daniel trailing behind. The woman stopped to say something to him before climbing the stars. Marty watched with shocking amazement as Daniel went down on his hands and knees and crawled up the stairs after the woman. They soon disappeared from view. Marty looked at his drink was in his hand and gulped it down and returned the glass on the counter before quitting the bar.

He sauntered toward one of the adjacent rooms and stopped at the doorway of one to see what was going on inside. Other white men stood hurdled near the doorway inside the room watching the group sex happening on the large bed that occupied the room. Two black men were being pleasured by three white women. One of men lay on his back getting a blowjob while his colleague was fucking one of the women from behind; the third woman lay beside them fingering herself, awaiting her turn.

Marty couldn't help observing the woman giving the blowjob, admiring her rich mane of raven-type hair that fell over her backside, and thought she had the distinct figure of an Asian. He appraised the other men in the room but no way could he tell because of their face masks if either of them was Asian. One thing he did observe was that almost all of them were stroking their cocks to the group sex action. Marty returned his eyes to the sex couples, neither of whom cared that they were being watched. The Asian woman was now riding her black stud. The man pulled her downward and jerked his pelvis frantically under her, slamming his prick into her cunt with brute force. The woman was moaning quietly at a moment, but then let off an octave howl as her black stud increased his thrusts. The man had her lean over to the side while his hands grasped her butt cheeks hard. His fingers dug into her butt cheeks and he was grunting hard and fierce while the woman continuously responded with a high-note screaming frenzy. The other black man continued fucking the first woman doggy-style while her counterpart drew closer kissing him.

There came some commotion by the doorway as several of the white men cleared a path for a black man to enter the room. The man was naked and his cock jutted a good ten inches hard as a rock from his groin. His complexion was black as midnight, all sinewy muscle and menacing. The man turned and glared at the white men in the room. Marty thought the man's eyes at one time fell on him and he immediately looked away.

"The fuck are you slave dogs doing in here?" he addressed all of them. "Pathetic white thrash all jerking your disgusting pricks," he growled like only a drill instructor would. "All of you drop to your knees right now!"

His voice sounded like a whip-crack and even Marty shook from it. He was equally stunned to see all the white men lower themselves to their knees without question or gripe.

"The fuck are you looking at, slave dog?"

Marty looked up at the black man and realized the man was staring at him. He wanted to speak but no words would escape his mouth; some of the other men stared at him as well, though he couldn't make out whatever expression was in their eyes.

"Didn't you hear me talking, white boy?" the man marched toward him and pulled him by his shirt collar. "You eye-balling me, slave dog?"

"No . . . no, sir." Marty stuttered.

"The fuck you are if you don't get on your knees right now, dog. Get the fuck down right now!"

Marty did as the man demanded. One of the white men was still stroking his cock but the black man saw him and lashed his foot at his hand.

"Get your fucking dirty hand off yourself, slave," he snapped. "Don't none of you dare touch your worthless peckers here. Not on my watch."

He surveyed them behind his face mask, the whole time his cock remained rock hard. Marty couldn't help being mesmerized by it. He couldn't have known that the other men beside him, too, were admiring the same thing. The man eventually came to the end of the row.

"All you bitch-ass white boys are going to do some cock-sucking right now. Open those pretty pink lips of yours, slave," he addressed the one kneeling before him. "See what daddy brought for his dogs."

Marty leaned forward and exhaled a lungful of air when he saw the white man at the end of the row sucking the black man's cock. The white man didn't seem even hesitant about it, not from what Marty saw. The others all watched in mute silence as their colleague kept choking on the black man's cock, making gurgling sounds while he did.

"All right, dog!" the black man barked before pushing the white man off him, leaving a trail of dribble from his prick. He moved to the next white man kneeling beside the former.

"Let's see what the next slave dog can do. Open up!" he barked.

The second white man, too, inched forward and immediately took the man's cock deep into his mouth. Marty felt like he wanted to throw up. Everyone around him seemed to anticipate their turn at worshipping the man's prick; neither seemed concerned anymore of the couples fucking on the bed. Marty heard himself gasping like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to bolt out of the room, except his feet felt too heavy for him. Even if he did, he knew he wouldn't get within a foot of the door before the black man stopped him. He looked on with horror as he kept inching toward his direction now three white men away from him. Marty kept thinking of what to do but nothing came to mind.

Another figure at that moment entered the room and it turned out to be a black woman. To Marty's surprise, it was the black woman in the couture dress and velvet hand gloves that caught his attention down at the parking garage—he recognized her immediately. The woman scanned the people in the room, including the white men, and she stopped when she noticed Marty and came toward him. He looked at her with yearning in his eyes, hoping that she rescued him out of this nightmare.

"Hi there, slave," she said to him. "I've been looking all around for you. Come with me."

Marty breathed with relief as he came to his feet about to follow her. But then the black man looked at him and he stopped in his tracks. Marty saw the second white man from him was busy stroking the man's cock and slurping over his hard-on.

"The fuck told you to get up and leave, slave dog?" the black man growled.

"He's my pet," said the black woman. "I've some work for him to do."

The black man gave a dismissive gesture with his hand and returned to his work in front of him. Marty walked past him, hurrying to get out of the room. The mystery black woman stood outside the door waiting for him. Marty fell in line with her as she strutted like a feline down the corridor.

"Thanks for what you did back there," Marty said. "Mind telling me who you are? Have we somehow met before?"

The woman stopped and pressed a finger to his lips. "You're breaking protocol, slave. Right now I'm your Mistress, and I want no further word out of you. Bite down on your tongue and come with me."

They walked passed other couples and came out into the main room. The woman went in the direction of the stairs. Marty followed a step behind carefully as if expecting to fall into some trap any moment. They got to the top and he saw two black men in face masks and tuxedos manning the entryway. The woman flashed her wristband at them then gestured at Marty.

"He's with me," she said.

The men nodded simultaneously and kept their stance while the woman walked past them and Marty followed.

"You're new here, aren't you," the woman said to him as they went down a wide corridor.

"Yes," Marty answered. "Yes, it's my first time here."

The woman turned to him and slapped his face. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Don't ever talk like that while in here, pet slave," she snapped. "Whenever a Mistress addresses you, you answer 'yes or no, Madam'. Nothing more. Got it?"

The slap wasn't a hard one, but it was enough to stun Marty into silence. He almost wanted to react, but then he remembered where he was, as well his promise to Daniel and he promptly squelched whatever impulse that dared him to want to lash back at the woman.

"Yes, I am new here, Madam," he said politely, like he was a child receiving a scolding from an older parent.

"That's better. That was what I thought when I saw you in the garage. It's about time someone breaks you in on how things go in here. Come along, slave."

She turned and continued down the corridor. Marty, surprisingly charmed by her demeanor, followed her like a puppet on remote control.