The Club - First Week
On inspection, the loft above the Club turned out to be big and bright
– it had once been a fitness centre, or maybe a dojo, complete with shower room, bathroom, and a mat-covered floor. There were even kitchen facilities. In a word, it was perfect. We hung a sign on the Club door – "Open Thurs/Fri/Saturday night – knock' – and then everyone moved upstairs to settle in. We were perfectly content to pass the time eating, fucking, and basking in the sunshine.
The next few days went pretty much according to plan. Emile started setting up our finances, gradually collecting autographs from the Latex Girls (and our two human minions) on a growing pile of paperwork. It seemed he'd earned most of a business degree
on a football scholarship,
before blowing out a knee and winding up working as a bouncer at a sex club - where he was now promoted to manager extraordinaire. He'd brought along his little sister – Trixie – with whom, as I mentioned, he got on with very, very well.
Meanwhile, down in the lab, Molly worked on filling her special requests. First Pantoufle's new friend
Jasmine was
brought down
for her refit. Her suit consisted of a red latex halter-top with matching panties. These melded nicely into her body, leaving her with substantially enhanced boobs and – I loved this touch – a rubberized pussy that was a perfect copy of her other mouth. It came complete with a little pink tongue. There were even three bumps on her mound that looked like a pair of closed eyes over a button nose, so she had this little face going on down there. When I leaned down for a better look, it licked its lips and smiled at me.
Put her in a little black dress, though, and she was good to go out in public - although anyone peeking underneath was in for a rude shock. (Literally – it turned out that her cheeky cunt had a habit of sticking its tongue out at you.) Her new rubber bonded-on collar, even with its iron ring, looked at a glance like a black choker. Sort of Goth, maybe, but easy to cover with a scarf - in a pinch - provided you left the leash at home.
Leah got a similar tit and pussy enhancement, but at her request she received a lady-pleaser dick rather than a spare mouth - all in blue, of course, including the collar. Mistress P and her two subs were ready for grocery detail.
Next up was the French Maid, who now called herself Coral. By Tuesday Molly had prepared a spiffy rubber tail for her, and had taken her down to poolside to get her suited up.
As usual, Molly was singing as she laid out the costume:
"The maid, she's French, she's got no sense
She's wild for Crazy Horse
And when she strips, the chauffeur flips
The footman's eyes get crossed ..."
Coral lay down on the deck and eagerly pulled the material up to her waist. Her legs fused together as we watched.
Once transmogrified and tipped into the pool, the girl looked more half-Orca than half-fish, but she was thrilled with the result. So was I, to be honest. I was trying to imagine fucking anybody who was half scaly, and - ugg.
She zipped in big circles and splashed us with her big tail, giggling madly; then she zoomed to the bottom and shot out high enough to nearly reach the ceiling. I could see we were going to have to take her to the seaside once in a while. Or maybe get her a job at SeaWorld. (Although maybe not so much, what with those big bouncy tits. Not to mention her hungry pussy-slit, a deep pink gash against her black bottom skin, which practically screamed: STICK IT HERE.) Hopefully there would be a lake out at Ms. Lewis's ranch.
We put Coral in charge of the pool, of course. She soon had a regular stream of visitors (Latex Girls, not sailors - yet). And especially Matrix, who'd discovered a fetish he didn't even know he had - mermaids. The two of them pretty much shacked up together, down there. They spent an inordinate amount of time experimenting with positions, both in the water and on a king-sized air mattress, which they dragged ashore to sleep on.
As for Doc, after only three days of walkies, we even managed to come up with a solution for him. It turned out Coral knew the Commandant's civilian name. Molly gave her a call, and offered to sell her our beloved pet at a substantial discount. She was keen, although b
efore her purchase she'd wanted to sample Doc's doggy charms. We left the happy couple knotted together in the coatroom. Like Molly reminded me later, as she counted out the cash, there's no accounting for taste.
The grand re-opening that Thursday went rather well, on the whole – there are a remarkable number of kinky people in this town. Word of mouth had spread, and most of our guests had heard garbled accounts about the unusual events of the previous week. Many costumes were guesses of what the citizens of my latex Empire might look like.
In the interest of keeping the place at least somewhat under the radar, the Latex Girls mostly stayed in the loft, playing with each other (as usual). Molly and I canoodled together and watched the sport downstairs on the closed circuit TV Doc had installed. While we were no longer in the abduction business, we were still on the lookout for people who might be worthy of full membership.
Emile was down there, sort of floor manager, and his boys were on security at the door. Trixie had practically a degree in mixology, so she took over the bar. Together they were enough to run operations. To keep up the buzz, we also sent down the three generic Subs – Carla, Destiny and Raven - as teasers. In the poor light, they could pass for clubbers wearing very, very good costumes.
Naturally, Pantoufle, Jasmine and LG were also there. They wore just enough clothing to camouflage their Latex modifications. They looked like mini-skirted barbarians – but hot. Jasmine in particular was popular with the customers. When she did that tribad thing with you (which I had discovered didn't mean it took three people), well, she could eat you out. And I knew for a fact that if she got around to straddling one of the men, later on, she could blow him and fuck him all at once.
As I said, things went smoothly – at first. We even found a few people to discreetly invite up to the loft. The wrinkle was
Mad Max. The guy wore full road warrior leathers – even the thigh-holstered shotgun looked real. He and his pal were behaving like dicks, but that wasn't the real problem.
The thing was, even on our crappy surveillance monitor, Molly recognized him as a previous customer. Like Carla he'd bought two base model Sub units (in black, of course). Luckily he hadn't brought them along, because then he'd have brought along his own portable mind control machine.
Except for Carla, none of Doc's customers knew about the Latex Club (or rather Clubs, since Doc and Molly had been moving from city to city, collecting fresh raw material and moving on). But even if Max hadn't expected to see Subs like his own when he'd come in, he must have immediately recognized ours for what they were. No doubt he was wondering who was controlling them.
In fact, even as Molly was filling me in about Max, he and his buddy approached Raven (I only knew it was her on account of she and the others had put colour-coded ribbons on their collar rings – Raven's was black, naturally). The three began talking. So far, so good – if asked, she'd name me as her mistress, which would tell him nothing. Of course, I wasn't around, and there was no machine to be seen. But if invited, Raven would fuck him like a bunny, regardless.
Whatever she said, it didn't serve, because Max's buddy pushed her against the wall and got his hands around her throat. Now, I'm the first to admit that there'd been some rough sex in the place, but I was pretty sure these two hadn't arranged a safety word. Even as Molly and I got to our feet, I saw Emile and his pal approach and Max reach for his shotgun. Very bad.
"Trouble," I shouted, and launched myself for the stairs. Molly, Pril and all the rest were right behind me.
But by the time we got down to the Club, it was all over. Apparently the bully handbook must fail to mention that you should look behind you for angry girlfriends with heavy chairs - Destiny had swung a heavy stool in a full arc that had taken down both Max and Buddy. Their general lack of popularity can be guessed by the applause that greeted our dragging their unconscious bodies out the back. Particularly since quite a few of our customers already had ideas about what went on in there.
Max was the last to wake up. He found himself zap-tied to the same chair that had laid him out.
