Sophie & The Society by Fidelis Blue
Sophie is young, beautiful and has a successful career in the City. Her passionate affair with Roberto, an Italian banker, soon progresses beyond conventional sexual attraction, as she discovers a deep longing for discipline and the pleasures of submission. In a series of sexual escapades of increasing daring, he tests the limits of Sophie's desires. Eventually Roberto's friend Alex invites them to become members of the Society, a secret and tightly regulated fraternity of men who hold their women in common. As a "Subject" of the Society, Sophie consents to an elaborate initiation ceremony, at which she vows to make herself available to any member who requires her. Soon she is in demand, summoned at a moment's notice to the apartments and offices of the Society's members.
In London, Paris, and New York, Sophie willingly subjects herself to the perverse desires of dozens of men, each time returning to Roberto to make a full confession and accept whatever penalty he imposes. When Roberto leaves for a month, giving her to Alex while he’s away, she undergoes a course of strict erotic training. In the ultimate test of her submission, just how far will Sophie go to prove her love for Roberto?
This story of lust, submission and daring choices includes masters and slaves, control, humiliation, oral/anal sex, exhibitionism, bondage, spanking, multiple partners, double penetration and some femdom erotica.
“Follow me,” he said. His voice was emotionless. He walked down the hall and into a room with a large window at one end. He drew the curtains across it, and switched on a lamp standing on a small table next to a large leather armchair. The room was expensively furnished in traditional style, with a heavy mahogany dining table and matching chairs at one end, and a large plush sofa covered in deep red velvet.
He sat down in the leather armchair and pointed to the floor in front of him.
“Stand there,” he said.
Sophie did as she was told.
“Lift up your skirt,” he ordered.
She did so, raising it almost to the top of her thighs.
“Right up to your waist,” he said.
She pulled her skirt up high, revealing her knickers. They were white satin, very brief, the front little more than a triangular cache-sexe, the sides mere strips of elastic, though the back did cover her bottom. The knickers were decorated with tiny satin bows around the edge. He reached forward and pulled them down just far enough to give him sight of her pubic mound, and through the screen of hair the beginning of the cleft beneath, its framing labia showing pinkly through the dark thicket.
“Turn around and bend over,” he said.
She bent double, almost touching her toes. The man pushed her skirt up over her buttocks, then pulled her knickers further down, as far as her knees. She imagined him inspecting her, his eyes minutely focused on the tiny-pursed opening of her rear orifice. She thought he would touch her but he didn’t. She looked up and gazed around the room. All down one side was a large bookcase constructed of polished wood. It was filled with old volumes, some bound in leather. It was a very masculine decor, showing no evidence of a feminine touch. He must be unmarried.
Then she felt his hand touch her, his finger tips running lightly up the inside of her thigh, over her rump, till his hand cupped around one of her buttocks. He put his hand between her legs, and taking in his fingers the soft folds of flesh around her sex, he squeezed her hard. She caught her breath and, fearing she might overbalance, shifted her position slightly.
“Keep still,” he said curtly.
He took hold of her right labia between forefinger and thumb. Now he found what he was looking for, the little steel stud representing a snake curled in the form of an S which was the Society’s insignia and which all Subjects had inserted into the labia, just below the clitoris, upon initiation. He toyed with it for a while, twisting it, pulling it this way and that.
He took his hand away. Leaving Sophie bending, her skirt raised over her bottom, her knickers about her knees, he went to the far end of the room, where there was a round pouf in black leather, matching the armchair. He pulled it to the centre of the room.
“Kneel on this,” he said.
Sophie had to pull up her knickers to walk across the room. She knelt on the pouf. The leather felt cold on her knees and hands. The man went over to a chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. From it he took a long thin cane. It had a wooden handle with a silver knob on the end. The cane itself was made of some flexible kind of wood; he swished it a couple of times as if to check its efficacy for the task in hand. Then he pushed Sophie’s head down till it rested on the pouf. She was aware of her raised bottom, vulnerable now. He moved behind her, out of her line of vision, and pulled her skirt back up around her waist. He pulled her knickers down again, just below the curve of her buttocks. Something cold went between her legs, the handle of the cane. He pushed it against her sex, not attempting to penetrate her but just holding the handle, hard and cold, against the soft cleft between her legs, prodding her.
“Don’t move. And don’t make a sound,” he said.
Then she heard the swish of the cane and the smack as it landed on her rump. There was a sharp, searing pain. The cane came down again, this time a little harder, and in just the same spot. She gasped, and trembled slightly.
“Keep still, I said,” the man snapped.
The cane landed again. The pain was not quite unbearable, but it would become so if there were many more blows in store. She tried hard to think about why she was submitting to this ordeal. She wanted Roberto to be proud of her, she wanted him to say how well she had behaved, how much she pleased him. But right now she wished the man would stop.
She lost count of the number of blows. It must have been ten or a dozen, maybe more; it seemed to go on and on. But at last he was done. He put the cane back in the drawer. Sophie remained kneeling, her naked bottom burning with the aftermath of the beating. The man stood in front of her. In his hand he had a length of black silk. For one awful moment Sophie thought he was going to strangle her. Instead, he placed the material round her head so as to cover her eyes and tied it at the back, not too tightly. She was aware of him standing close in front of her, and she heard the sound of a zipper being unfastened. She knew what was coming. She could smell the unmistakable odour of a man’s erect organ just under her nose. Smell has the power to go straight into the brain, setting up powerful emotions. The scent of a man’s cock, no matter in what circumstances, always gave Sophie an urgent tug of excitement.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
She did so and he inserted his cock, pushing it right in to the back of her throat so that she almost gagged. Then he pulled it out almost completely, before pushing it back in, this time not quite so far. He held her head with both hands to keep her steady and began to fuck her in the mouth, in a slow but steady rhythm. She didn’t know if she was supposed to help by licking or sucking. He seemed to expect nothing of her except what he ordered, but instinctively she had closed her lips around him. She knelt there passively, letting him use her mouth, his cock pushing in and out. She could feel the rhythm gradually increase and he began to breathe heavily. He fucked on, pulling her head more towards him. Suddenly he grunted and she felt his sperm spurt into her mouth, hitting the roof of her palate. His cock continued to buck and kick in her mouth as the last of his cum, thick and hot, ejaculated. Then he withdrew. She heard him zip himself up again, then he pulled the blindfold off her. He handed it to her.
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