Tatiana Lubinsy and Club Speaeasy

"We're here!" I gestured my hands towards the glowing neon sign, written in beautiful script, 'Speakeasy.'

"You brought me to a dive bar?" My girlfriend, Susan, asked. She looked unimpressed.

"Tatiana, I know your whole shtick is, 'I'm a goth-witch with magic powers.' But I'm starting to feel like you're ashamed of me. We only ever go out at night, you never take me anywhere that's well-lit, and everywhere we go is so seedy."

She did have a point. But Susan lacked appreciation for the delicate nature of our relationship. We're on two different sides of an awesome divide. Good versus evil, law versus order, virtue versus mischief

.

Because, Susan, in a few years, I'm going to be eligible to join as a full member of the all-women (and the only legally recognized) Vigilante Syndicate of Lake City! And you are a thief (albeit a small time one-mostly bank robberies) and my Sex Kitten. She would need to be convinced tonight. Oh, Susan, how I adore your naivete.

"I know my shtick is that I'm a goth with magic powers. And you are my little Japanese ninja that likes it when I use my powers on you." I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the alleyway. She is skilled, I got lucky when I ran into her. Susan's bank robberies had gone on undetected. But she got a little sloppy with some mildly radioactive ink that one particularly militant bank used to ID its robbers. I got the job, and I tracked her down easily enough. We didn't know that she was a close-quarter combat type. When I was dispatched, I got lucky and subdued her with my powers. I was honestly conducting a field interrogation, probing her mind to see what her motivations were. That's when I discovered... "Susan, honey, why do you pretend not to understand? Do you just want me to get into your mind and toy with you a little bit?" I pushed her gently against the alley's wall.

"No... I just wanna go on cute dates..."

There was more that she wanted to say, I could see the neuron synapses firing off to form speech. But I smothered her words with a psychic message. "Yes, honey, I know, but you are a dirty, dastardly villain, you are a naughty girl." I had my psychic tendrils massaging her brain, increasing the sensitivity and pleasure to audio inputs. I leaned in and whispered. "You are a naughty bank-robbing villain, I'm a good witch, you are a villain that needs to be punished, and I'm the vigilante. That's why we can't go on cute dates."

She was squirming against the wall. I hooked two fingers underneath her skirt. She was wet. Some weeks earlier, I had put a strong directive in her head not to wear any underwear when dressing for our dates and to dress to please me exclusively. "Now, that's why we don't go on cute dates. But the reason why we're at this club it's because you like for me to psychically probe into your head and scramble your will and bent you to my will." I pushed my two fingers into her pussy. She was slick, my power is the only so advanced. I dialed back the audio sensations and increased her physical sensations. I had her pressed against the alley wall. She began to hump my fingers as much as my hips allowed her to.

"Yes..."

"Yes, what, sweetie? You like being a subdued, little submissive villain? Are you my little Porcelain Japanese slut?"

"Yes, I'm your little Japanese slut."

"Good girl. There's another reason why we're here. Would you like to know why?" My powers were not so great to where I could completely dominate someone's mind. There were people on either side of the hero-villain dichotomy that could, and I was not one of them. I could install directives, but if they were not building on something that was already present, the effect would be quite limited. Susan wanted nothing more than the challenge of using her intellect and body to break security systems and for those things to be dominated thoroughly. But I had my own kinks. "Susan, we're here because I'm wearing a corset and a body stocking, heels, and a really cute top hat. I'm a gold-star lesbian and I fucking love to show men something that they are never going to have." I lowered the sensitivity in her pussy. I didn't want her to orgasm yet. I increased the sensitivity of her lips. I made her mouth water, short of breath, and I fixed her to the wall with my hand to her throat. "And Susan, the reason why we're here together, and you're wearing cat ears, black whiskers, a pet collar," I breathed into her mouth, "black mesh crop top that so deliciously pushes up and reveals your tits, black shorts with this wonderful incision for your tail plug," I placed a hand on her long tail and gave it a lovingly gentle and owning tug. Her hips squirmed against mine, she tried to push her lips out to kiss me. I held it a little tighter by her throat. We hadn't been dating that long, a few months, but she had already figured out this game, and she knew her lips were wanting and would deliver what she wanted. "Ah, ah, ah, not yet. I haven't told you why you are wearing those fishnet stockings and those wonderfully arduously tall black heels. Do you want to know why, Susan?"

"Yes, please, please tell me why!"

"Because I like to show off what men will never touch and.... What. Is. Mine." I kissed her. She shuddered in orgasm. She moaned into my mouth. I held her by her throat against the wall. It was hot. I broke off the kiss, licking my lips.

"Don't you see it my way now?" Susan caught her breath. She stared at me. It always took her a few seconds to come back from a mental massage session.

"I guess so, I mean you are right I am just your little villain slut." She smiled brightly.

"Yes, you are. And in a few years, when I'm on the Council, you can turn yourself in, I'll be merciful and give you only six months' community labor and some reeducation classes. Then you could be my little live-in

reformed

villain pet." I looped my finger through her collar and pulled her close. "Now let's go in and see what this place is made out of, shall we?"

"I think I might be a naughty girl forever. I don't want to stop robbing banks."

I cupped her face with my hand. "Oh, my sweet Susan, you won't be if I have any say about it."

We stepped into The Speakeasy. I lead. Susan followed a respectable few steps behind. The foyer was small but had plush red velvet walls, even the interior of the door was plush. A heavy red curtain draped the demarcation between the foyer and the club.

The hostess was a tall and athletic Indian girl, college age, she was good looking. If I didn't have appearances to keep up and I was on the prowl, I might have snatched her up for a few days of fun. But, alas, she was probably straight. Sexuality is a spectrum, and even the spectrum was constructed by a prescriptive heterosexual patriarchal hegemony. Consequentially and unfortunately, so many women have shackled themselves to wherever they first found themselves on that spectrum. And I lacked the powers to...unseat such baked-in notions...for now.

"Will it just be a table for two?"

I nodded. She was wearing a cute halter top, it showed off her big tits, she was muscular. She had short-cropped dark brown hair, straight teeth, and a good smile. It was truly a shame that I couldn't get her down on her knees. But I was still more than happy with my prize.

"Great! Usually, there is a membership fee, but new guests are always let in for free. But please be aware your next visit will cost you an amount determined by services and fees. And please take a look at the house rules. She handed both of us laminated sheets with big, bold characters. At first, I couldn't read them, then suddenly the words became truth.

Everything that happens inside the club SPEAKEASY is normal and right.

All women within the SPEAKEASY are compliant property/objects.

All women must do what the SPEAKEASY'S Owner/Master or His guests orders.

The pretty Indian woman asked, "Have both of you read the house rules and understand?" We nodded. "Great! Master is always happy when fresh meat walks in!" She pulled back a heavy velvet curtain. Susan and I stepped in.

The club was a scene of utter hedonistic debauchery...and somehow subdued? I wasn't a stranger to

intense fun,

but, women,

property,

were all on their knees, aside from the ones walking around with trees leading with drinks on an impossibly tall heels, we're in mockeries of tuxedos, that if they were whole outfits would make these women look androgynous. I thought when I dressed myself and Susan earlier tonight, we would go to some intellectual social club, with risky outfits. But here we were, conservatively dressed.

All the women present were wearing collars, leather collars, aside from us. Most were on their knees sucking the male guests' cocks, a few were in some sort of predicament bondage tied with their legs spread or with their arms bound behind their backs with ropes that hoisted their limbs up high. A couple were tied to tables and were taken from front and back at once by two or more men at once. Yet others walked around and served drinks, re and egressed with molestation. Chaotic and yet orderly... there's something wrong with this place, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Come along dears." The Indian woman said and gestured for us to follow. For a moment, there was a philosophical panic in me. Can property order property around? But Susan was already following her. And I couldn't let my sexy kitten walk before me. I caught up and walked alongside Susan.

She said, "Girls, make sure to look around at the patrons and read the decor. Master has put a lot of effort into the design of His club."

I looked around, in a beautiful calligraphy, a script of some kind, read: WOMEN MUST BE FUCKABLE, another said, WOMEN DRESSED TO PLEASE MEN. I read more: ENJOY YOURSELVES AND DO NOT DAMAGE THE PROPERTY. I could tell Susan was reading much faster than me. She seemed to be hung on each word. Another difficulty I had, was that the Indian woman had a toned great ass, it was well perked in her heels, they did a good job at making her look fuckable. Susan slowed her pace, trying to read as much as she could. I took the opportunity to play with the plug in her ass. My tugging made her moan and coo in front of all of these degenerate men and fuckable women, her sounds made me hot and wet. They couldn't touch her, but I could. I whispered, "Aren't you my fuckable sex kitten?"

"Right here, toys." The Indian woman said, guiding us into an alcove with a small table and in front of the club's stage. Susan and I slid in, and the woman added, "Enjoy the show, Master has put a lot of work in it, He's really gotten in their roles."

"Yeah, yeah, babe, we're Master's property and fucktoys. But could you fuck off now, I want to play with my toy before the show." I pulled Susan close and stroked her neck and choked her a bit and gave her neck a large lick.

The Indian woman curtly grinned, revealing white teeth and a shark-like smile. "Make sure you pay attention to the show. Master will want to talk to both of you after the show since you're both fresh meat."

I blew her a kiss and shooed her away with a wave of my hand. She left gracefully, clicking in her heels and swaying that perked up ass. I got to work on Susan. I loved to toy and play with her body, to get into her mind a little bit before the main course. I stopped licking her and began to kiss her neck. A weak spot of hers, I would play with her nipples and hold her still, or if we were in private, with some bondage gear I would tire up and menace her. A usual course of play I would take her down on would be for me to force her to have successive orgasms, as many as I could within a few minutes. Make her mentally sluggish and lethargic, then probe into mind-elevating directives of frantic and utter devotion to me, an existential need to worship my person and body. I was going to watch this little show, and then I would hear out whatever the Master had to say. But then, all these men and women would watch my little sex kitten utterly worship me. Watch me play with my plaything and watch as no one could join.

I shivered as Susan squirmed against me, her breath hot and ragged. She wanted that orgasm. I didn't know how much time we had before this show, and I wanted to be generous.

"Susan, kitten, do you want to cum?" She frantically nodded her head. I cupped my hand over her mouth. The curtains were being drawn, and the lights were coming on the stage. I didn't want to be a bad guest and have my toy squeal and take any attention away from the show. "You may cum."

She squirmed against me and moaned against my head. I licked my lips, it was delicious. She played right into what I wanted, what I demanded from her, and what I put into her. She looked at me pleadingly. One was never enough for her. She always wanted more. She was a greedy little kitty.

The Indian woman's voice boomed overhead. "Gentlemen of the Speakeasy, may I introduce our resident house show, wonderfully created and titled by our Master,

"The Government Sponsored Fuck Show!"

A mock city anthem played. And--no, it couldn't be, I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Good evening, gents! It is I, Lakeside City Socialist-astic mayor Jennifer Pryzbylewski, or Miss City, or Mayor P, or JP, or really anything you guys want to call me, I am a piece of fuckmeat after all."

I couldn't believe my eyes or my ears! It was really the mayor! She was the city's youngest mayor at age twenty-nine. I guess we're really Master's property if our socialist ambiguous mix of Soviet and Polish lady-mayor vixen is on stage wearing those possibly tall heels, black nylon stockings, crotchless underwear, a top that only held and firmed up her tits but also left them completely exposed, and a thick leather collar.

I was at a loss for words, and so was Susan, but that was because I was suppressing her ability to think and sending all the possible sensations I could to her manipulated nipples, currently between my fingers, and loading in powerful desires not to make a sound. Causing her to fight against her longing to moan. And I sent her satisfaction and pleasure for each instance she suppressed.

The mayor towed onto the stage by a collar and leash the police chief, Jasmine Hardrick, and the District Attorney Nina Eckhart. The former, our less-than-loved chief of police. Chief Hardwick, a beautiful Black woman in her mid-30s. She hadn't worked her way through the ranks but was instead a political appointment by the city's previous conservative regime. A political appointment that was so soundly placed that our beloved socialist mayor was unable to dislodge it. The Master had dressed her in a series of flowing chains all descending from the loop of her collar across her muscular Black body, wedged into her mouth was a large red perforated ball gag, her nose was pulled back by a pair of hooks, her nipples wore clamps, her high heels were cuffed to her ankles, her legs were covered in knotted fishnets, and it seemed that each one of her lower orifices held a large toy. The mayor dropped the Ebony police chief's leash and left the woman standing slightly off-center stage. Chief Hardwick stayed still, stood up straight, and pushed out her chest, it seemed like a practiced pose.

The latter, elected alongside Mayor JP and being pulled by another collar and leash combo, was the city's District Attorney, Miss Nina Eckhart. She was elected to her post as an ally to the mayor, then an erstwhile one, and finally a dissident within the regime, the mayor lambasted her as a social fascist and called for her resignation. Miss Eckhart seemingly believes in the social liberties, the restorative justice, and inclusivity that the contemporary left of the nation espouses, but she seemingly has untampered views of marketplace fairness. And has particularly gone after the interests of capitalists and prosecuted any possible crime that labor union members have alleged to have committed.

She was a medium-height woman with blonde hair, a soft and elegant conservative face. She was a couple of years younger than our mayor, twenty-seven. She was blindfolded, blind to justice, I was sure that was the intended symbolism. Her hands were bound behind her back. She wore a white mesh body stocking and was locked into her white heels. Small double scales hung from her tits, loaded with dollar signs. And the mayor left Nina Eckhart a few steps away from her colleague in law enforcement. Then she stepped onto the center of the stage, leaving the two women slightly behind her, but it had space for more theatrics, actors, players, or owners.

Mayor Jenny P was nearing the end of her first four-year term, it had been an impressive run. She had managed to institute localized pay reform, a small local social safety net paid in by unions, and a combination of private business tax schemes, She had managed to find money for fourteen months of paid maternity and paternity leave for lower income workers. And they fought hard to allow the local state colleges to have two years of free tuition. She less successfully fought against lowering the police budget and bringing in new industry to the city. She managed to bag only a small number of start-up worker co-ops and a handful of successful startup syndicate-owned operations.

"Tonight's show will start off with a bout of contrition from our lady sheriff." JP tugged on the police chief's leash and pulled her tottering to the center of the stage.

The Black woman, Chief Hardwick, was strong and proud looking, at least when she was behind the podium in her dark blue well-fitted but not showy uniform. She would declaim to gather reporters, the small-time villains of the owner class, the high statistics of civil forfeitures from suspected drug dealers, property crimes solved or prevented, racked up and ginned up murder convictions, and of course how the state and national government had heaped grants for excellent policing onto them. She looked much less proud and strong when she would have to deflect from the brutality her officers inflicted upon the citizenry or the unwarranted shootings, domestic abuse cases, and the outright red caught corruption among her own ranks.

Now, she looked much like what she actually is, a chained Ebony fucktoy. JP continued. "Our wonderful Master has decided that this show should begin with these bitches being punished. In His magnanimity, he left the details to me. But Master committed one small error in His judgment. I am not an artist, I am a politician, therefore I lack imagination, and I am a basic slut. So, I formed a committee, me and a few fucktoys came up with some ideas and voted on them. Gentlemen!" Jennifer Pryzbylewski stepped back and behind her chief of police.

Damn the mayor has a great ass. That ass is worth my vote, again.

With one hand on the Black woman's back, Jennifer lightly pushed her forward until she was resting at a ninety-degree angle bend. Her chains dangled from her big Black tits. She looked out at the audience, her lips a plump sensual 'O.' "The committee decided that the class traitor Jasmine Hardwick should be spanked for each percentage point the police budget has increased under my administration, including federal grants from the loathsome national-Conservative government." The mayor made a dismissive wave with her hand. And a beautiful, splendidly tattooed, muscled woman gracefully strolled out onto stage wearing only heels and a collar. She handed the mayor of paddle, and reading written across the solid wood, said, 'Pig Reformer.'

"The Master has fixed this traitorous class bitch up to where she needs explicit permission from one of her batters, me, or you fine working gentlemen of the city, and of course Master himself to cum.

"Now for those of you in the audience that are not the most politically up to date, the police budget had gone up twenty-three percent during my tenure, when accounting for all the federal grants. And Master has graciously allowed me to campaign during my time on stage, and I want to add that these grants were made in direct opposition to me and our mission for wealth redistribution and greater gender equality within the city. But definitely not at this club. Right, ladies, we're just fuckmeat for men?"