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Message-ID: <39276asstr$1037182202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Medea F.K." <medeafk@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} A Night at the Club (MF, MFF, FF, bdsm, oral)
Date: Wed, 13 Nov 2002 05:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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	Ten o'clock, Saturday night, Samantha steps out of a cab in front of a 
nondescript gray cement-block building.  It's quiet here, no people hanging 
around, no sound coming out of the building, until she opens the door and is 
blasted with cigarette smoke and loud techno.  The girl at the front desk 
smiles and greets her by name.  Samantha shows her ID, pays the ten buck 
cover, then steps around the divider, into the main room.
	She sheds her coat as she glances around the space, revealing a tight, 
short black pvc dress, black stockings, and black patent leather heels.  Her 
dark brown hair is pinned loosely on top of her head, and her lips are 
painted blood red.  She's dressed for the hunt, tonight.
	After a quick stop at the coat check counter, she makes her way through the 
crowd to the bar.  The couple in front of her is talking to the bartender 
while he mixes their drinks.
	"So last month, when we were in London, we checked out as many clubs and 
shops as we could find time for," the woman says.
	"It's a great place, isn't it?" asks the bartender.  "I spent a semester 
there, when I was in college.  Somehow I managed to find time to study, but 
I don't know when."
	All three laugh.  The bartender hands them each a glass, and the man heads 
back to his table while his companion remains at the bar talking.  When he 
arrives, a friend is already there, sipping her cocktail and watching the 
dance floor.
	"Something catch your eye, Maria?" the man asks.
	"Hey, Rob.  Take a look at that girl," she says, gesturing towards the 
dancers.  "The one in the long skirt and the halter top."
	"Oh, I've seen her here before," Rob says.  "Once she starts moving it's 
beautiful to watch, like she's channeling the sound through her feet.  
Always catches every change in the music, always dances even when everyone 
else starts to clear the floor."
	"She's been out there for over an hour," Maria says.  "Doesn't that woman 
ever get tired?"
	Rob smiles.  "I'd love to see you dance, when you finish that drink."
	"Possibly later, though I might want to change shoes first."  She raises 
one foot to show off her tall, spike heel boots.  "Besides, I believe your 
wife promised to give me a tour of the equipment in the back room.  Don't 
you want to watch?"
	"Oh, right, I think Helen mentioned that.  We'll go pull her away from the 
bartender in a minute."
	"What's she talking to him about?"
	"London, unless they've switched subjects by now."
	"Oh, I bet she loves getting to rehash all the travel highlights again.  
Better be careful, she'll want to make it an annual trip."
	"That wouldn't be so bad, but I'm going to suggest Germany for next year."
	"I hear the scene in Berlin is great...  I wish I had the money to travel, 
but I guess living it vicariously through the two of you will have to be 
enough."
	"Hey, maybe the photography sales will pick up.  You should send your 
portfolio around to galleries outside the local area.  Having a show in a 
different city might provide the means to go there."
	"Yeah, that's a good idea.  I need to do another round of mailings anyhow." 
  Maria glances down at her glass.  "Well, I'm finished.  I think I'll go 
grab her."
	Maria walks over the bar and stops beside Helen, who has moved on to 
discussing the popularity of various drinks.  When she sees Maria, she ends 
the conversation quickly and gives her a hug.
	"Hey, how long have you been here?"
	"Oh, not that long.  Ready to play?"
	"Yeah, let me find my bag.  I think it's over by Rob."
	They return to the table, find the bag, and with Rob tagging along wander 
off to the back of the club.  Hidden along the hallway with the restrooms is 
a pair of doors.  Helen opens the first one and the trio enters.  Inside, 
there are two pieces of equipment, in addition to bolts in the wall for 
attaching rope or chains.  At the moment, both structures are in use.  On 
the St. Andrew's cross, an expressionless young woman is being flogged by an 
older man who twirls his whip before each strike.  The activity on the rack 
across the room is more lively.  A blindfolded man leans back against it, 
his hands tied above his head.  As he writhes and moans, a woman is dripping 
hot wax onto his bare chest.
	While Helen, Maria, and Rob exit to see if there's more free space in the 
other room, the woman holding the candle extinguishes it and steps closer to 
her partner.  She leans forward and whispers into his ear, her words 
inaudible to the rest of the room.  Using her long red fingernails, she 
chips away at the wax, starting in the center of his chest and then moving 
outward towards his nipples.  She tugs especially roughly at the bits 
embedded in his hair.  When his nipples are finally exposed, she scrapes at 
them with her nails, causing him to shudder in pleasure or pain, possibly 
both.  Finally she finishes and releases him, and after a long hug they 
clean up and return to the main section of the club, rejoining a group at a 
table beside the dance floor.
	Nearby, Samantha sways to the music, facing the woman Maria noticed 
earlier.  They aren't touching, but their body language makes it clear that 
they're dancing for each other.  As the song ends, Samantha makes eye 
contact and tilts her head towards the back rooms.  The woman nods, and they 
walk together to the second room, hand in hand.  Inside, Rob sits on the 
edge of a bed, his pants open.  Maria is kneeling in front of him, sucking 
his cock, while Helen spanks her.
	"You're such a slut," Helen says.  "Such a fucking slut, Maria, that you 
don't even care that people can see you.  I bet you even like what I'm doing 
to you.  Does it turn you on, slut?"
	Maria seems to be losing her concentration, but she answers by attempting 
to continue the blowjob.
	The two new arrivals don't stop to watch, too focused on each other.  
Samantha leads the dancer towards a bench against one wall.  They sit, lips 
and tongues meshing, Samantha's fingers clenched in the woman's hair.  As 
they kiss, the loud music and people's voices and the rest of the club fade 
away from awareness.  It's just the two of them, with warm breath and 
pulsing blood, heat and sweat and that look of hunger in the eyes.

------------------------------------------------

I always like hearing from readers.  You can email me or use the feedback 
form on my website to respond anonymously.
--
Medea
medeafk@hotmail.com		http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/medea/www




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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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