Rachel knew that she was meant to be worried. She felt that itch at the back of her mind that signaled there was something she was forgetting something, like that time she forgot her toothbrush when she went on holiday. She was just having some trouble putting her finger on what exactly she was meant to be worried about.
For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Rachel cast her mind back to her last memories. She vaguely recalled going out clubbing, so that must mean that it was a Saturday. Her day had been perfectly normal up until then, nothing of note standing out at all. The only peculiarity she could think of was that she was going to a new club for the first time.
Her friend Claire had been gushing about how much fun she'd had there when a friend introduced it to her last Friday while Rachel was sick with the flu, and had insisted that she came with her there the next time they both went out. This coming from her chronically introverted and club-hating friend made Rachel deeply curious on how good this place must be for Claire of all people to have loved it. In fact, her fervor to recommend the place and insistence that Rachel visit it had actually creeped her out a little bit. In hindsight, she should have been more suspicious of why Claire would...
Rachel's train of thought was suddenly knocked off track by the sudden rise of a pounding baseline. Her thoughts, barely held together by a thin string of focus, were scattered to the wind as Rachel's brain reverberated with the pound of the music. She made a feeble attempt to resist, to catch the disjointed thoughts and reassemble them into something coherent, but the music made sure that wasn't going to happen. Well, that and the pleasure. On its own, the music would be a beast to resist in and of itself, but coupled with the radiating pleasure running through her it made it next to impossible to put up much of a fight.
For a while Rachel found herself floating in this fugue state, letting the pleasure wash over her as the music cleared each errant thought from her head before it could even properly form. The blindfold made sure her eyes had nothing to focus on, letting her mind wander aimlessly. The only thing occupying Rachel's empty mind was the niggling feeling that something was wrong. That there was something she was forgetting, something she should be doing right now.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Rachel noticed the pleasure suddenly abate. It was only for a moment, quickly starting up again, but it gave her sleepy brain a chance to wake up. To resist the pull of the pleasure and the music back down into the murky depths of mindlessness. Forcing her mind to focus, Rachel tried to get herself back on track to what she'd been thinking about previously. The club. Right.
Rachel first started worrying when she saw the exterior of the building. She thought for a moment that Claire had stopped to re-strap her heels when she had stopped walking and turned to face the dilapidated old building. Made of old red brick, without a single window and sporting a slightly rusty steel door that looked like it could resist a SWAT team, Rachel thought it looked more like the den of a serial killer than a club. The only hint of its true nature was the dull pounding of a music, barely permeating the thick walls and door.
"Hold in, don't tell me this shithole is the place you've been raving about all week? Seriously?" Rachel questioned.
"Hey!" Claire answered, seemingly genuinely offended, "Don't knock it till you try it. I guarantee you'll love it."
Before Rachel could protest further, Claire flashed a cheeky grin and trotted over to the door, knocking politely. After a short pause, there was the metallic clack of a lock being disengaged. Claire, with difficulty, pulled the door open before stepping over the threshold and turning to Rachel expectantly. Considering for a moment turning around and going to one of her usually haunts instead, Rachel resigned herself to follow her friend inside. She could hardly leave her alone in this place. She'd get one drink, then insist on going to somewhere nicer.
Closing the door behind her, Claire grabbed Rachel by the hand and pulled her down the shadowed hallway towards the source of the music.
"Come on! Let's dance!"
Stumbling to follow, Rachel trotted deeper into the building after her friend. Following her through a second door, Rachel was greeted with the sight of what looked like your stereotypical "underground" club. It was a relatively big concrete room, with a small DJ booth pressed against one wall, and a bar against the other. On the wall above the bar was a pink neon sign glowing warmly on the wall that read "Mistress's", which must have been the name of the club. The rest of the room was being used as a dance floor.
Filled with groups of grinding men and women, Rachel remarked the club seemed at least somewhat popular. It was actually pretty clean for a club too. Far better than the murder basement she had been expecting. For a moment, she even let herself imagine that Claire had stumbled across a diamond in the rough. An acclaimed club reserved only for those 'in the know', hidden away in an old building away from the eyes of the masses.
However, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that there was something 'off' about the place. Perhaps it was the lack of people at the bar, with seemingly every person lazily dancing with a nearly full drink in hand. Perhaps it was the suspicious expressions on the faces of those present, heavily lidded and unfocused eyes staring off into the distance. She worried for a moment that it was in fact some sort of drug den. Few people seemed to be talking, maybe given the difficulty in doing so thanks to the volume of the music, but Rachel only spotted one or two couples talking into each other's ears as they danced. The whole room had an eerie feeling to it, that made her want to turn right around and...
Again, a pounding base interrupted her thoughts, sending them scattering before she could even attempt to refocus. Her distracted mind was then able to notice the intense pleasure that was coursing through her body, seemingly on the edge of orgasm. Confused, but also instinctually seeking that release, Rachel bucked her hips up against the mouth between her thighs, trying to get the last bit of stimulation needed to get over the edge. Alas, the leather restraints made sure she could only move less than an inch. The face had no trouble deftly moving back, denying her release before moving back in to continue the onslaught of pleasure. Letting out a groan, Rachel tried again and again to grind her pussy against her pleasurer, desperate to cum, to clear her head so that she could focus on what was important. Focus on... something.
Sometime later, Rachel again felt the pleasure stop for a moment. This time, focused on her pussy as she was, she was able to notice that it was due to the face between her thighs pulling away, exposing her needy, plump lips to the cool air for the first time in seemingly hours. However, the face was quickly replaced by another. A different tongue took its place between her lips, teasing her anew and bringing her again just barely to the edge of orgasm. For a moment, Rachel was tempted to let her mind descend again into the warm sludge of pleasure and music but the concrete feeling that something was invariably wrong forced her to refocus. With difficulty, she let the tongue and the pounding music coming from the headphones fade into the background and focused on her memories.
Claire had pulled her over to the bar to get a drink first, quickly ordering them both a vodka coke, their favorite, before pulling her out onto the dance floor. Rachel didn't consider herself a music snob, far from it, but the music being played in the club wouldn't exactly have been her choice. Instead of something upbeat you could dance to or a well-known song to sing along to, the speakers were pumping out a slow, base-heavy EDM song. Claire immediately started lazily swaying along to it, joining the other club goers in their synchronized wave. Feeling deeply weirded out, Rachel set herself on leaving as soon as possible, taking a big sip from her drink before awkwardly joining Claire.
It was at this point that her memory seemed to become the most muddled. She vaguely remember talking with Claire, or more specifically Claire talking to her. Whisper-shouting in her ear as they drunkenly swayed on the dance floor. However, she had no recollection of what she had talked about. She also couldn't quite place how long they had danced for. The music that had been playing seemed to dominate her memory, filling up every crevice with its deep base. Forcing everything else out.
As far as she could tell, they had danced for but a moment and also all night long. She vaguely recalled Claire taking her by the hand and leading her through a door at some point, although at the time she had assumed that they were going to the bathroom, and into a room deeper into the building. Claire had told her to relax and not to worry, cooing away and questions and concerns as she led Rachel by the hand down another concrete corridor, like a sleepy child who had just woken up.
