Sex On Demand by Lizbeth Dusseau, D/s general, semi-public, anal
High above a theatre stage, Katherine is forced to submit to a club member ready to take her anally for the first time. 

From the Novel Member of the Club, Copyright  Pink Flamingo Version © 2000, all rights reserved To Order The EBook

Once bound by the red-stoned ring of ‘The Club’, I lived in a whirlwind of sex. All order completely vanished from my life as the ring had the power to turn business meet­ings, theatre dates, an afternoon jog in the park, any innocuous activity into a sexual event.

       My job promotion gave me the liberty to stop at a moment’s notice and follow the phoned instructions that I often received at work.

One event in those first few weeks was more than a cut above the others, jarring me as if a knife blade had slashed me to my core.

       It began rather strangely at the theatre. My friend Joanna and attended a production put on by an avant-garde ensemble actors that had regular performances in an old ornate city theatre. The theatre was run by Joanna’s brother, Nathan. The first half of the performance was an eerie collec­tion of short acts, each depicting the effect of visits from “other worldly” creatures in human dreams. The shorts were both delightful and chilling, providing me with the perfect mood to begin another round of sex at the hands of a club member who would demand my immediate submission.

       At intermission, Joanna and I browsed about the lobby, looking for people we knew. Finding no one exciting, we were about to return to our seats when Nathan rushed up to Joanna and gathered her into a conversation that I soon tired of. She motioned me to return to the theatre where she’d join me shortly.

       I found my way back to my seat at the center of one long row, a perfect place to view the stage.  While the seats were not all taken, many were; and the area about me was beginning to fill up again.  I looked around for Joanna as the lights dimmed, but couldn’t see her anywhere around. The same eerie music that accompa­nied the first half of the performance began to play again, and I could feel a rising agitation in the pit of my stomach, expecting similar stories as this strange work continued. Though the theatre and the stage were completely dark, I was fully engrossed in the music, and in the shadowy movements I could barely make out before me.

       Then, as if it were a part of the play itself, I heard a voice behind me speaking; and then hands reached out over my shoulders to hold me in their warmth. I was frightened in the first instant, and even more so when I noticed on the man’s left hand, a red ring shining with an unusual brilliance even in the darkened room.

       “Later,” the voice whispered in my ear, “I’ll have you later.”

       That said, the stranger drew his hands away and vanished within seconds. I was about to turn around to see who it was, but Joanna was at that moment making her way down the aisle. 

       “Was that somebody talking to you?” she inquired.

       “Yes, it’s really odd,” I answered.  But the curtain was rising on the second act and I couldn’t explain further. 

       Needless to say, I wasn’t able to concentrate on the rest of the play; the ominous quality of the night had heightened to such a suspenseful peak that by the time the play was over and we went backstage to meet the actors, I was furtively looking over my shoulders for that unseen someone who’d whispered in my ear.

       “You’re acting dreadfully anxious,” Joanna ob­served, as we climbed up to the stage. But before I could answer her comment, she was chatting with Nathan and his friends. I stood alone having no idea what was about to descend on me.

       I wandered toward the curtains and the unusual sets, gingerly fingering the weirdly painted drops, which were all extraordinary abstract paintings in themselves. They lent the same spooky quality of sensation to the production as the original music had.

       From the corner of my eye, I saw Joanna talking spiritedly to the director. She had an eye for the bizarre and would no doubt make some suggestions or comments that were appropriate for this kind of theatre.

       I kept her in view as I strolled the stage—a little talisman I suppose. Feeling reasonably content, I was suddenly startled by a hand grabbing me from behind.

       The man with the ring!

       My veiled suitor pulled me around and led me quickly away from the crowd. He was clothed in black, with tight fitting pants and a turtle neck that hugged his muscular body so I could see his fine muscles rippling as he ran gracefully before me. Such powerful thighs and such a tight ass!  I would have thought he was a dancer—or even gay—the way he moved with such ease.  He captured me with a power that, like a current flowing from his hand to mine, took away any thought of control I might have clung to.

       He led me up a narrow stairway, to a tiny loft that rose above the stage.  It was well protected by a balcony around it; perhaps a crow’s nest from where the crew would drop rain or snow to the stage below. 

       I could view the cast and crew and friends who were illuminated by the soft light shining from a single bulb. They crowd gaily talked on with smiles and grimaces, and full expressions enunciating their words, though to my ears it was only a low pitched din.  High above, my captor and I were surrounded in darkness—although I could not be certain if someone glancing up might not see the outline of our bodies against the even darker ceiling above.

       My assailant didn’t take me swiftly; rather he began a sensual play of his body and mine. I felt as if I were swimming in a mystical sea of sensation.  His hands ran over my clothes in the manner of an affec­tionate not furious lover; and when he began to reach inside my dress, it seemed a most natural drama began—as if we were presenting a theatre all our own to the watchful darkness. Each article of clothing he pulled away from my body was like a piece of my psyche letting go so that he could reach further inside to the most intimate parts of my body and soul.

       He remained behind me the entire time, his hands continuing their attentive caress. I smelled the masculine aroma of sweat and spicy aftershave. I felt his breath on my neck, and as his lips traveled down my back while kissing me tenderly from my spine to the crack of my ass.

       There he played. With the fervent probing of my nether regions, he built a seething furnace inside my body.  He probed not only my cunt, but also the tight hole of my ass; his lubricated fingers slipped easily inside, as he whispered “relax, relax” over and over in my ear.

       “I’m going to take you here, my love,” he said referring to that dark channel. I tensed at the news until his voice like a breath of balmy air said again, “Relax, Katherine. You will enjoy me here.” I trusted his sincere resolve and mellowed into the sensa­tions that engulfed me.

       Gently nudging me up one step on this tenuous platform, I was high enough for him to enter my ass with his cock. Leaning forward, I grasped the heavy steel cables on either side of the box, while my torso seemed suspended on air. Completely naked, my breasts swung like pendulums over the gathering below, my hips hotly moving with the prying hands behind me. My legs extended to their full length as the long muscles tightened and released in a regular rhythm. At my center, I was wet, wanting, hungering for his erection…and still fearful of the plunge he’d make into my ass. 

       In the hazy shadows of our perch, I could see myself stretched taut, bound liked a slave. I had hands and feet and a heart that could still break free, but I relinquished myself to this man’s control, happy to give him everything he desired of me.  

       Body tipped forward expectantly, ass wiggling, my cunt became urgent for his shaft to violate my untried opening. Though I begged him to take me, the master in charge seemed to know that cock up the ass is not easy. Wanting me ready for the first plunge, he kept working the aching spot with his fingers and then his tongue. He was on his knees behind me, spreading my cheeks with his hand as his mouth spread a flame through my entire bottom. I panted breathlessly. The anguish of waiting was half my arousal and torment. The mystery, our secluded hideaway above and the anticipation of this first anal violation made the wait unbearable.

       As one hand continued to rove about my round ass, massaging the with a strong grasp, the other hand turned into a cock. First one, then two, then three fingers pushed their way into the virgin interior. I winced, knowing what would eventually happen. My body replied to his determined efforts, open­ing wider than I could have ever imagined. I wanted him to fill me full, to feel my muscles ease around a thick rod.

       “Ahhhhhhh,” I gasped as loudly as I dared when he made one particularly deep jab.

       I could sense him move with me as my body communicated that it was ready for the final assault.

       Rising to his feet, he stood close at my back with his stiff shaft tight against my anus. My breathing stopped for just an instant as I waited, then like a spear, the thick rod pierced me in two, as its hardness invaded me with a first vigorous plunge into my dark interior. 

       “Ah, ah, ahhhhh,” I groaned as the fierce sensation knocked all thought from my brain. My consciousness centered on that lowly channel and nothing else.

       “Relax,” I heard his gentle words again, with a soft voice soothing the sharpness that would have ended the moment with too much pain. “Relax,” he said, a sweet whisper in my ear. With my body replying to his tenderness, he began to gently move inside my impaled ass, at the same time his hand toyed with the aroused folds of my pussy.

       He was firmly behind me, his powerful legs bent so he could push himself deep while his thighs held my bottom securely.  One arm gripped me tightly.  I could feel the hair on his skin, the muscles of his body beneath that skin and the masculine energy he poured from his loins and chest into my shaking form. We were joined naked to each other in an animal copulation that took on the rhythm of a tribal dance.  We moved to a fine counterpoint, with one muscle, one body set against the other. My orgasm began to build with an unexpected rush—there was something uniquely different about this kind of fuck. The pleasure didn’t build so much as burst with firecracker frenzy.

       As he kept the movement flowing, I closed my eyes feeling nothing but the intense pleasure. I wanted to scream openly, without reservation; but still aware of my surroundings, I suffocated the sound inside, adding its energy to the cum that was almost on me.

       He played with my pussy like a skilled craftsman, knowing exactly what would arouse me. Did the members of the club take notes to share with their fellows, or was he instinctually adept at pleasing women? He knew how I’d respond to him, and the exact moment when my climax would suddenly sweep over my body and turn me limp.

       The finale came. 

       With a sharp surprise, my body rocked back on his. And with his cock fully lodged in my ass, I could feel the pulsing force of his orgasm about to explode. Wildly we were one. And wildly we came at the same moment. His groin bucked recklessly in my ass while I pushed back on him. Fused. With silent moans and stifled whimpers, a powerful quiet tension played between us, holding us together until the last robust spasms of completion died away.

       When he withdrew he did so tenderly, and we both collapsed to the floor of the platform.

       I breathed deep, exhaustedly, my mind lost for a while until with dexterous and affectionate hands, he turned me around.

       He was naked, as was I.

  

I looked up into the strong features of my unnamed assailant’s face—the first time I’d laid eyes on him. He had rugged features that were not handsome in the tradi­tional sense, yet he exuded vigor and compassion and lust in a form so genuine that his attractiveness touched me more deeply than more handsome men ever could. 

       He scrutinized me painstakingly, while I gazed at the masculine body. The dark hair covering his naked chest glistened with sweat. I watched as his muscled arm moved, as he pushed his unruly hair back with his hand. Although he did not smile or say a word, he communicated gratitude with his whole aura.

       And that was all there was, a few moments, a few last clutches and the intimate stares. We were a sweaty heap of tired flesh, sharing the tiny box above the commotion below, not wanting to sever our bodies from each other. We continued in silence, as there was no need for words. 

       When he pulled himself up, he pulled me with him. Our bodies touched front to front, our hair tickling each other with electric charges.  We might have begun to fuck again exactly where we’d left off, but instead, he swept my hair back with his fingers, and leaned in, planting his lips firmly against mine. It was a brief kiss, over far too soon for me. Pulling us apart, he reached down for our clothes.

            We dressed hurriedly, as if all of a sudden we were worried about getting caught. Decent enough to descend the staircase, the mystery man led me back to the stage floor, and pointing out a ladies room, he offered me a chance to rearrange myself properly. When I returned to the gathering where Joanna was still talking with her friends, he was nowhere to be found.