club

He was going up for auction at “The Chain Link”, Katrina’s favorite BDSM club… Austin’s premier BDSM club. The flyer had listed him as ‘sub dillon’, with a picture beside his name. It was the annual ‘Breast Cancer Awareness’ auction, an event that raised huge amounts of money to benefit the charity. He had belonged to a little mouthy woman for the past month. Katrina had caught him stealing a glance her way one too many times now. He didn’t work hard to disguise it. She knew he wanted her.





The lights went down. There he was center stage. A strapping man, over 6′ of muscle. He was probably in his mid-20s. Thick black hair in a crew cut… His face had the sculpted look of Polynesian decent. High broad cheekbones, thick lashes, and full pouting lips. His skin was the color of honey. He was dressed only in a black leather g-string with a COD piece snapped over the front. Cuffs and collar had been removed. He stood there, barefoot, head bowed. Hands were clasped neatly behind his back, shoulders squared. He did not look up to show off his brilliant blue eyes. Several tribal tattoos came up his side and across his chest. The auction stand spun slowly.



The auctioneer instructed him to turn around… to display his back and ass. He turned, as instructed, hands going up behind the back of his neck. Kat felt that burning knot of lust in her stomach. There are no marks on him. That muscular back and ass were free of any welts or bruises. Strange… and exciting. A few more swirling tribal tatts adorned his shoulders and back.



The bidding was intense, but she came out on top… he cost her a pretty penny.



Katrina had reserved one of the playrooms in the basement. The auction was not over yet, but she wanted to check out her new boy. Paying the financer, she went over to claim him. He was sitting on the floor of the ‘holding area’, with the other subs. Leaning against the wall, arms resting against his bent knees, he looked infinitely at ease. As she walked toward him, his eyes rose to meet hers. Their eyes locked for a split second, then he dropped his gaze quickly, but a smile touched those full lips. He moved gracefully to a kneeling position, hands locked behind the small of his back, waiting. Up close, his chiseled shoulders and chest were even more impressive. Abs cut into an eight pack and formed a V that dipped into his g-string. She pulled a leash and collar out of her bag. Squatting in front of him, Kat tipped his head up, until his blue eyes met hers.



“Is this what you want, Dillon?” She asked.



“Yes, Mistress Katrina” he answered in a fervent breathy whisper. “Thank you, Ma’am!” Ah, so he knew her name. That was a good sign…. And well mannered, too. That was a bonus.



She made quick work of buckling the collar around his neck, and snapping the leash onto it. He rose quickly to his feet and moved to follow her. As they started out of the area, a tiny woman in a frilly corset outfit moved to block their path. She wore 4 inch heels that seemed to defy gravity. Kat racked her brain for the woman’s name… Celeste. That was it. Katrina glanced down at her own attire… black leather pants, riding boots with a slight heel, and a tight black v-neck shirt. Her short dark hair was spiked, and dangling earrings touched her shoulders. She was punk meets Domme. Not your usual FemDom fare, but it suited her. The other woman stood in front of her, scowl on her face.



“His key” she growled, thrusting it up at Kat in her open palm. It was a locker key, surely to the locker where his clothes were stored. Katrina took it, sliding it into her pants pocket.



“Thank you, Celeste.” She said with a tight smile. Celeste gave her a curt nod.



“Hope you’re happy” She snarled, turning to Dillon. He bowed his head, not looking at her.



“Thank you, Mistress Celeste” he murmured, all hints of the former smile gone.



‘OK, so first we talk, then we play’. Katrina decided… there was a story here that she wanted to hear.







Skipping the stairs to the dungeon, she led him up stairs to one of lounges. A quiet place with lots of private seating areas. It was almost empty, due to the auction in progress downstairs. A wingback chair was set by the fireplace. She directed him to pull an ottoman over to the chair, where she had him sit. Kat sat in the wingback. She moved in very close, face to face. Her leg was in between his. He was looking decidedly nervous. It was the first time she had seen that easy well-mannered charm undone.



“What happened?” She asked.



“I have always been a submissive….” He began. “Kind of hard to be like that, in the vanilla world… when you’re a big guy like me.” He was speaking in a low husky tone. “I wanted to try the scene so badly, but didn’t know where to start… I answered a few personal ads… She was one of them. She had experience… and she showed me what it was like… brought me here. I loved it. But I didn’t like her…. God, she’s loud!” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to do…. So I asked her to put me up for auction. She was so angry! She was furious!”



“Why didn’t you just leave her, and come back here on your own” Kat asked. It would have certainly saved her some money, she thought.



“I didn’t know where to start… how it all worked… she had the membership. I was just along for the ride… but I didn’t want to go back to answering ads….” He took a breath. “Then this auction came up, and it seemed like the perfect chance to find a new Mistress. I was hoping you would bid…” He looked embarrassed.



“When was the last time you two played?” Katrina asked, remembering the lack of marks on his body.



“Last week” He answered. “We only played here… I never saw her outside of the club. This is where she set up our first meet.” He was playing with his hands, fidgeting.







“Did you like what she did?” She asked.



“It was OK. She is good at it, I guess. There just was no connection, you know? I felt like we were going through the motions….” He looked down.



“So what makes you think things will be different between us?” Katrina nudged his chin up, so she could look him right in the eye. Blue eyes met her brown eyes and he blushed.



“Because when I look at you I get that fluttering feeling…. I know that sounds stupid…” He took a deep breath.



“That’s not stupid.” Kat said. “It’s called chemistry… I feel it, too, Dillon.” She gave him a reassuring smile. He sighed with relief and smiled back at her.



“Now we need to find out how we work together” she stated, giving him an appraising look.



“I’m really good at waiting” He said confidently.



“Waiting?” She asked. Waiting meant so many different things in the power exchange community.



“Yes, I used to wait on Mistress Celeste and her friends… you know, fetch drinks, food.” Katrina chuckled at his words.



“Oh Dillon, I have much bigger plans for you than waiting! You might do that occasionally…. But I think I’ll keep you too tied up to do much of that!” She laughed. “That fine ass of yours has all sorts of potential!”



“Oh” Dillon breathed, looking excited. His cock throbbed to life, tenting his leather thong.



“When do you have to be home?” She asked. It was Friday night.



“I have to be back in San Anton by Sunday evening.” He said. “I have a hotel room booked for tonight.”



“Play your cards right, boy, and you won’t need a hotel room” she told him with a wink.



They took another 10 minutes together, sorting out Safe Words and gestures. They talked about what he had done before, what he wanted to try, and limits. Other than some flogging and spanking, Celeste had made very little use of her boy. Pressed for limits, Dillon thought that he might not be into Urethral Sounds, but even that he wasn’t definitely against. He was eager to try most anything she brought up. His cock was straining against the small piece of cloth, before their talk was over.







There was a Saint Andrew’s Cross in the playroom she had reserved. Katrina took her time placing cuffs on her kneeling boy. The black leather stood out against his cinnamon skin. She let her fingers brush across his neck, by his collar, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse. Heat radiated from his near naked body. Looking down, she smiled at the steady rise and fall of his chest, watching his breath quicken at her touch. Ummmm, it was fun to get Dillon worked up… Tipping his head back, she leaned down and kissed his full lips… Their first kiss. She slid her tongue across those lips, and he opened his mouth. Her tongue drove into his mouth, and he whimpered, holding very still.



“Kiss me back”, she whispered into his ear, running her tongue up the outer edge of his earlobe. He shivered, and nodded. Moving back to his mouth, she kissed him again. This time his tongue eagerly tangled with hers. Head tipped back to meet her, his response was passionate and sweet. Mouth pressing down on him, she deepened the kiss. He moaned beneath her. When she pulled back, he cast his eyes down, not meeting her gaze.







“Look at me, Dillon” She commanded. He swallowed and met her gaze. He looked vulnerable and a little scared. “Not used to kissing a Domme?” She asked.



“No, Ma’am” He whispered.



“Is it scarier than the hard core stuff?” She inquired knowingly. He nodded mutely. “I don’t play without emotions. Think you can handle that?” This was something she had to know.



“Yes, Ma’am”, he breathed, blushing. Watching him carefully, she knew that he really wanted to try. Ok, so they would take it slow. Time to change gears, she decided. Dillon needed some action.



“Stand up, boy.” She ordered. Standing, he towered above her, but she didn’t feel at all intimidated. Feet spread apart, shoulders rolled back, arms at his side, he stood open to her. There was a buzzing feeling at her core. Such a rush, having this big man so willingly at her mercy. Stepping in close, she pressed an open palm against his flat stomach, pushing him back. She guided him up against the Saint Andrew’s Cross and quickly attached his cuffs in place. Watching her work through lowered lids, he moved his body under her direction, his breathing heavy.



“Ever had a zipper?” She inquired, once she got him secured in place. Dillon shook his head.



“Know what it is?” She raised an eyebrow. He nodded, looking excited. His cock throbbed in his leather g-string. She paused. “What do you think about an audience?” She asked.



“Whatever you would like, Ma’am”, he answered, looking more excited than ever. Katrina chuckled and went to open the door.



A small group of people gathered in the room. Katrina had a basket of clothes pins in hand, and strips of rope in another. She set the items on a stool near Dillon. Leaning in, she took one of his brown nipples into her mouth, and sucked it up into a tight bud. Flicking it with her tongue, she bit down. He hissed and arched his back. The audience watched, enraptured. Mistress Katrina was a favorite, well known for her sensual play. It had been several months since they had seen her play with a sub of her own. Recently, she had toyed with some of the subs who frequented the club, but she was far more electric with her own boys. The crowd sensed the attraction between these two, and the room hummed with excitement. She gave the moist nipple several hard slaps, leaving the area reddened. Next she turned her attention on the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. Dillon sucked in ragged breaths, writhing in the restraints. Once the nipples were reddened and slightly swollen, she fastened a clothes pin around the base of each one. She grinned happily and flicked them hard. He gasped and flinched.



Reaching for more pins and a two foot length of thin rope, she set to work clipping the clothes pins to his skin down the right side of his chest and abdomen. The rope was caught neatly in the space between the pins and his skin. That completed, she moved to the left side of his chest, pinching the skin and clipping another length of rope in place. By the time she had finished, he was shaking and whimpering. His eyes were glazed.



“How are you doing, baby boy?” She reached up and rubbed a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand, nodding. “Too much?” She asked. A slight head shake ‘no’ came in response.



“Good boy” She praised him, leaning forward to lap a clamped nipple with her tongue. He moaned blissfully. She licked the other one. Reaching a hand forward, she massaged his tight leather package, rewarded with another moan. She leaned in close, so that only he could hear her.



“What about clothes pins down here, babe?” She asked, hand still cupping his sack.



“S’Okay…” he murmured, eyes closed, rocking his hips into her hand.



“Dillon!” she said sharply, bringing her hands up to press hard against his clamped nipples.



“Uhhhhh” he groaned, eyes opened quickly to look down at her. “Yes, Ma’am?”



“Can you handle pins on your cock?” She asked, looking him in the eye.



“Yes, Ma’am”, he said softly, but clearly. He looked slightly nervous, but not panicked. Katrina reached down and unsnapped the COD piece from the front of his leather thong. A thick uncut cock sprang out, released from constraint. A string of pre-cum dangled from the tip. ‘Well, that’s a good sign’ she thought with a chuckle.



“Been pinned here before?” she looked up at him again. Eyes wide, he shook his head ‘no’. She couldn’t stop the big grin that spread across her face. She laughed softly. “Ready for a treat?”



She pulled loose skin from his ball sack, and clipped a pin in place. He let out a little cry. Another pin to the other side of his sack. He whimpered. His cock was so ridged that she had to go to the underside of his shaft to find any loose skin. She pinched it up, clipping three pins in a row along his length. She took one last pin and clipped it over the foreskin on the tip of his dick. He was hissing and panting when she was done. His cock continued to pulse and bob. Pre-cum leaked around the pin over his slit.



“Oh, yes!” Katrina exclaimed with joy, as she stood back to look at him. “I have bought myself a pain slut!” She said with delight. There was a collective chuckle of appreciation in the room. Dillon rolled his head to the side and stared at her with his big blue eyes. His arms hung loosely, held up by the restraints. His chest and tight belly rose and fell rapidly with his breathing. Kat stepped back up to him and rubbed his nipple tips under her thumbs. He moaned.



“Are you ready?” She asked, stepping away again. He nodded. She took the tail of the rope clipped to his right side. With a rapid yank, she ripped the rope away from his skin, sending the clothes pins flying. Dillon let out a ragged cry of pain. She had gotten all of them in the line with that one pull. She moved to the other side, taking the next rope tail in her hand. She braced a hand against his hip.



“Ready?” She asked him again, this time with a sadistic grin. Now that he knew what was coming, he hesitated for a second. Then, clenching his teeth, he nodded ‘yes’. She ripped the second line off, clothes pins going everywhere.



“Ahhhhhhh” He cried, back arched, chest thrust forward.



“So pretty”, Katrina purred, reaching up to stroke his face. He relaxed back, eyes glazed again, as he hung there panting. Beads of sweat lined his brow, and dampened his hair. His chest glistened. Slowly, Kat began removing the clothes pins from his nipples, cock and balls. He whimpered and jerked as they came off one by one. Once she had them all removed, Katrina unsnapped her boy from the cross. She pointed him over to a bench by the wall, and watched carefully as he walked over to it. Someone passed her a water bottle and a damp cloth. She popped the bottle top and pushed it into his hands, then ran the cloth across his forehead. He smiled up at her appreciatively and leaned his head against her side. She stroked his damp hair. They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Dillon’s breathing was back to normal.



“I’m going to mark you, now” Katrina murmured down to him. He looked up slowly, and nodded, waiting for her directions. She took his hand and led him to a padded spanking horse. Several of the on-lookers helped to strap him in place. His cock had stiffened again, as she got him positioned. She flipped it down over end of the bench, so it was exposed. The skin of his dick was reddened from the clothes pins. She rubbed it firmly under her palm with downward strokes. Dillon shifted and humped the bench in response.



“Stop” She said, spanking his cock with her open palm. He groaned in frustration. Ah, so her boy did get needy… that was good! She grinned. Some muffled chuckles came from the crowd.



Katrina went over to her toy bag and pulled out her flogger. Dillon shivered at the sight of it. She began lightly slapping the flogger across his ass and back. He flexed his back muscles, enjoying the light sting. Working her way up and down his body, she started to lie down an occasional harder stroke. He moaned, writhing over the horse. The harder strokes picked up in frequency. His broad back and muscled ass turned a light red. Suddenly, Kat snapped the flogger down on his ass hard, the ends curling around the outside of his cheeks. Dillon cried out. Welts rose where she had struck him. She swung on the other cheek, hard. Then she moved to his upper back. He was crying out with each blow. Once she had both cheeks and his upper back welted, she eased up on the intensity. But now, even the light strokes against the punished skin had him whimpering and moaning. Moving down, she laid some strokes on the back of his thighs, careful to avoid his balls. Light at first, then growing harder. He cried out again as she welted his thighs. Returning to lighter strokes, she listened to the guttural quality of his moans…. Her boy had hit sub-space! She gave him a few more light strokes, letting him ride the pain. This one was definitely worth the cost!



Striding back to her toy bag, Katrina retrieved a slender case. Inside lay a rattan cane. She pulled it out, sliding it lovingly across her hand. It was light, whippy, and smooth. Dillon made a small noise from his position on the spanking horse. She turned to see him staring at her. His face was awash with fear and desire. Kat strutted back over to him slowly, letting her hips sway a little. She held the cane up, arching a brow. Dillon licked his lips.



“Do you think you can take three?” She asked. He nodded quickly. Too quickly. “No one has ever used a cane on you before” She stated.



“No, Ma’am” He agreed, and then hurriedly added, “But I can take it. I can take more than that.” Kat’s mind went back to last weekend. She had caned a man in the main room of the dungeon. She had given him six, but he was an experienced player. Dillon had been there in the crowd, with Mistress Celeste. ‘Hum, so he is competitive too’, she thought, amused. Best nip this in the bud.



“Are you trying to tell me how to be your Domme?” She growled at him. “Trying to top from the bottom, boy?” He swallowed hard, looking startled and nervous.



“No, Ma’am” He whispered.



“Who decides how many strokes you’ll receive?” She asked, moving in close to his face.



“You do, Ma’am” He looked like he wanted to cry.



“That’s right” she said, running a hand over his cheek. “Trust me, babe, I’ve got it covered…. Now, this is going to hurt. It’s going to hurt a lot. But when it’s done, you will be wearing my marks, OK?” Dillon nodded his understanding, looking relieved that her anger had passed.



Katrina moved down along her prone boy, running her nails lightly along his welted back and ass. He shivered at the contact, hissing lightly. The crowd formed a semi-circle around them, giving Katrina room to swing. She rested the cane against the tender skin where his ass met his thighs. He trembled. She let it sit there for a full 6 second count, then raised it up and snapped it down hard, in the same spot. It whistled through the air and landed with a satisfying THWACK. Dillon wailed, shuttering under the agonizing burn. A nice fat red and purple welt formed. She had not hit him hard enough to blister. He rocked and hissed. She laid the cane against his skin, three inches above the first mark. He began to shake. She waited four seconds this time, then snapped it down again. He hollered, clutching at the bench rails by his hands. His whole body curled around spanking horse, as he tried to absorb the pain. Another beautiful long horizontal welt marked his ass.

The following is a true story and although some of the details may be a little different than what really happened (my memory is not that good), on the whole, the story is true and I have written it to be as close to what really happened as possible. Also, all parties indicated in the story were at least 18 at the time of the events.



Temporary insanity. There is no other way to describe what I had just done. Not only was I in what seemed like the most sinful and perverted Sodom and Gomorrah place I had ever heard of, but there I was, sitting on a chair, completely naked, legs spread wide apart, my friend John holding one of my legs up, putting everything I had in full view of probably 25 people in the middle of a room all looking down on me with lust in their eyes and grins. Jill was in front of me on the floor leaning back on her hands with a big blushed grin on her face, legs spread apart as if she loved every second of the attention and as if she had done this a thousand times.



I was still going through the aftershock and pulsing of my “O” when I noticed I was starting to get a cramp in my leg. I looked over at John and he grinned with one of those “I told you so” kind of grins. I couldn’t help but grin too, but eventually got out a simple “can I put my leg down? Ahhh, cramp” as I gently pushed his hands off my leg.”



As I looked down at myself, my brown hair between my legs was all matted from where Jill had just been licking me. I don’t have that much hair down there, but around my lips, I could tell that she had added quite a bit of moisture. Or was this partly from me? I really couldn’t tell, but at this point with what seemed like the rest of the world watching, I wasn’t really thinking I should put my hand down there to feel around and find out.



Now with my feet firmly on the ground, and my legs together, I looked down on Jill. She smiled up at me as I looked over her whole body. She had straight brown hair that went about half way down her back. She was small like I was and I noticed quickly that she was completely shaven down below. Her breasts were not all that large, and she had very large purple and brown nipples. The tips were sticking out a bit but just a little bit. She was all spread-eagle on the floor, and I could see that there was some wetness in her slit. I could just see the pinkness of her. This gave me a little tingle. Before that second, I couldn’t really tell if this was show or something she really enjoyed. I knew now. She like it.



Jill stood up, and moved toward me grabbing my hand. She looked at me in the eyes and said, “let’s go down stairs for a while. OK?” I nodded politely, smiled, and looked over at John as Jill pulled me from my seat and led me away through the crowd. I looked back and John proceeded to gather up all our clothes and follow us.



It was so weird walking through the crowd. Everyone was looking at us, but nobody touched us. A few made comments like “that was incredible!” and “very nice!” They were right, that “O” was incredible and yes, it was very, very nice.



We walked through the rest of the building, Jill still holding my hand pulling me along slowly, but looking back every once in a while to make sure I was still with her and OK. We walked past people along the way that just stared at us. I could see that she thought nothing of it and just continued walking. I wasn’t quite so relaxed about it. With every face, I would look up, see their eyes and immediately blush and point my eyes toward the ground. With a few, men and women, I lingered on their eyes a little extra time and I could see they dropped their reaction also was to drop their eyes. Only they weren’t looking at the floor, they looked down between my legs and then a few would look back up into my eyes knowing I had caught them looking at me.



Sometimes, when I looked down, I didn’t look at the floor, I looked at the back of Jill. I loved watching her from behind as we walked. She had very thin legs and a very round, but tiny butt. I caught myself multiple times staring at the crack between her legs from behind. She was so thin that I could see her button and all the rest of her from behind.



Walking in front of all these people is something I wasn’t used to and I’m sure it showed. My stomach was tight and I felt little beads of sweat collecting all over my body. I knew where we were headed and it scared me a little, but it also made me feel a little dirty or erotic. The whole way through the building part of me wanted to run back up in the other room and put my clothes back on, but part of me enjoyed this place and enjoyed all the erotic energy that flowed in abundance through the building.



By the time we got to the big room, I could see there were probably 50 people there and I hesitated. I tugged back on Jill’s hand slightly. She noticed my hesitation and looked back at me. “Are you OK with this? It will be alright and nobody will hurt you, I promise.”



I took a deep breath, gave her one of those oh well, here goes kind of looks and said, “OK, let’s go.” I was really scared, but some force was leading me there. The thought of walking naked in front of that many watching eyes scared the death out of me, but at the same time, I was being led by desires that I couldn’t control. Again, it was pure insanity.



As I walked through the room, I noticed that about a quarter of the people were naked and there were a lot of guys. I assumed they were there by themselves because they didn’t seem to be with anyone else or talking to anyone. I can only assume what went through their minds as Jill and I walked into the room. We were both in our 20s and many of these guys were much older and it was no secret what was on their minds.



She pulled me over to the main table in the room and pulled up a few chairs for the three of us. John wasn’t with us any longer and I looked around to see where we lost him.



“So, you go back a long way with John eh?”



“Yea. I met him back in High School and we have been friends ever since.”



“I see.”



“As I said up stairs, John is always the gentleman when he is here. Many of the guys here have a lot of lust in their eyes. That lust sometimes interferes with their brains and they do obnoxious stuff, but not John. He always behaves himself.”



“How long have you been coming here?”



“A few years now. This place used to trip me out a little too. I used to be a dancer, so walking around naked was nothing new to me, but walking around naked in a room of people that were allowed to touch and fondle you was another thing. As you can see, I did adapt though.” She smiled real big at me.



“Jill. I have to say, thanks. Not only for what you did, but for what you are doing now. You really make me comfortable and I appreciate it.”



She just smiled and said, “No. Thank You. You just made my evening. Most of the women that come in here are overweight, middle aged, and have been with people a thousand times. I can tell you are none of any of that. You aren’t completely new to some of this, but you are young, very sexy, and a bit like a child in a toy store for the first time.”



“It’s that obvious eh?” I blushed a little.



“Yes. It’s that obvious.” She gave me one of those glancing looks with a slight smile.



John finally got over to where we were sitting. I looked up and noticed he was now completely naked also. He walked toward us and I could see that he was still a little aroused. His penis wasn’t sticking straight out or anything, but it did sort of curve to the left a little. John was not a huge man in length, or at least I didn’t think he was, but he did have a fairly thick penis. He was circumcised, and had a big purple head on the end and I could see as he walked closer the purple veins going along the side. This was all surrounded by a thick patch of dark brown hair and his balls were a little bigger than most of the men in the room, and purple.



He sat down in the seat next to us and Jill said to him, “so, you decided to give up on clothes tonight after all. Good choice” as she looked down at his penis, looked up into his eyes and gave him a wink.



“But of course. When in Rome…” as he slowly bowed for her.



The three of us sat and chit chatted about all sorts of subjects for a while and all the sudden this guy comes up behind me and yells “Who’s Fuckin!” I jumped, and wasn’t real sure what to think, but I turned around and here was this guy, completely naked, long blond hair, and some sort of neon lighted object around his balls. He had pink puffy slippers and walked around like a duck. I have never met anyone like him. He had this huge bottle that he carried everywhere that had a big straw. I was never quite sure what was in it, but whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy sipping on it.



“So you met a new friend again Jill?”



“Jack, this is Jennifer. Jennifer, this is Jack. Jack is my boyfriend. He also happens to run this place.”



All I could do is blush and giggle as I looked at this guy. He was so goofy and funny. I of course made the mistake of asking about his lights and next thing I know, he put it in my face and said, “they are just some special ball rings. Wanna touch? Awww…don’t be shy now. Go ahead. I want you to touch em.”



There was no getting out of this now so I gave up and slowly reached out slowly and sort of examined him like a lab specimen. I grabbed his half erect penis with one hand and sort of pulled it up as I took the other hand and pushed his balls out of the way so I could see the light that went around them. I knew he wasn’t the right kind of guy to be getting scientific and all surgical with but I felt so weird about the whole thing. Here I was touching a complete stranger’s penis in the middle of a room full of people as if I was just looking at a pair of pants in a department store. Well, my playful side came out a little. “Interesting. Does this cut off circulation?” Before he could answer completely I gave his penis a few quick strokes and smiled up at him.





“No, it just…Holy Fucking Shit!” he exclaimed as I playfully stroked him three or four times, then I pulled away and quit just as quickly as I started.



“Awww…So you want to be like that eh?” He proceeded to pinch my nipples playfully and started tickling me. He must have liked the attention and sat down with us for a while. He was so much fun and I think he sort of liked me, but then again, he acted this way with everyone. He was the life of the party and just loved playing with people.



Jack also didn’t strike me as the type of person that would sit in one place for very long. Within a few minutes of sitting down, he got up and headed to the other side of the room. Next thing I knew, Jill looked at me and said with a big grin, “I’ll be back in a bit. There’s some fun to be had over there. Join in if you are interested.”



I looked over at what she was talking about and there was a whole row of people against the back wall on stools moving from one person to the next. Some had clothes on, and some didn’t, but it looked as if it was turning into one big orgy.



This older guy, who was fairly handsome and fully clothed, was down on his knees with this gorgeous dark haired girl in front of him with her legs on his shoulders. She had her dress up and her head back and there were two girls on each side with her nipples in their mouths. She really was attractive, but at the moment, completely out of her mind with all the attention she was getting.



Next thing I knew, one of the girls that was on her breast reached over to a guy sitting next to them watching and started unzipping his jeans. Without a single hesitation, she reached in, pulled his penis out and started sucking on it. He was stunned, but obviously enjoying it.



Jack and Jill seemed as they were going to get into the middle of this mess but as they were on their way, sort of got pulled into other situations. Jill was pulled aside by a guy and within a few minutes laid down on some chairs and started sucking on his penis. Jack got between her legs for a while and licked her as she squirmed and bucked against him.



There was so much happening so fast, that I wasn’t sure what to do and especially what to think. I just sat there in my chair in shock as I watched. John could see this was all blowing my mind, leaned over and asked me if I was OK. I looked over at him and told him I was OK. He asked if I wanted to participate and I quickly told him no. I was OK watching, but I couldn’t help but think things were getting way out of control over there and I didn’t want to be in the middle of something like that. I told him, “it might be fun, but if I got in the middle of that mess, every guy and girl in this room would have things sticking in me. I’m not quite up for that. I’ll just sit back and watch for a little while.”



The guy that had just had his penis taken out and sucked was now in between that girl’s legs unbuttoning her navy blue dress as she sat on a stool against the wall. She looked up and I could tell from her face that she was fairly old (at least compared to him). She was probably in her fifties, but she was still very well built and attractive. She was thin and had nice short blondish yellow hair. When he finally got the last button undone, he looked up at her and pushed the dress apart to reveal the front of her body. I could see she didn’t have panties on and she had a full complement of blondish yellow hair down there. He leaned forward between her legs and I could see her gasp for air, throw her head back and pull his head to her. It appeared as if that was something she had waited a long time for and she had it all over her face.



I really enjoyed watching her. I was surprised with myself a little. Even though she was probably old enough to be my mother, I found her to be very attractive and just to watch the expression on her face and the joy at just being given such attention was really neat to watch. I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I was being turned on by her and would have liked to join in with their fun. I thought better of it and resisted.



Other couples and people around the room were starting to move more closely to all the action as they either took their clothes off and joined in, or in some cases, just sort of picked out a spot and started having fun with their companions.



I knew I wasn’t ready to participate in this, but I needed to do something. I was so turned on by everything I had seen that I had to find some release some way. I also sort of wanted to show a little appreciation for what John had gotten me into. I would have never even known about a place like this if it had not been for him so I turned around and looked at him and without any hint of hesitation, I slipped off my chair to my knees in front of him as I looked up in his eyes and got down between his legs.



I pushed his legs to the sides as I looked into his eyes. He started to get a grin on his face, but let me continue. I looked up at him and said, with a bit of a sheepish grin, “the rules say I’m supposed to ask first. Would it be OK if I play with your penis?” He just busted out laughing and before he could answer, I reached up and grabbed his penis in my hands.



I started stroking it for him as I watched his head go back and start to bite on his bottom lip. At the time, I had not done this to many men and honestly, I wasn’t very good at it. I sort of knew that and asked him if he would talk me through what he wanted me to do. It was very loud in the room because of the blaring music so he didn’t hear me at first, so I sort of leaned up to him and whispered in his ear to tell him I wanted him to show me how to do it right.



He smiled and said he would but before he did, he pulled me close to him. My nipples joined with his and I could feel his hardness press against my button. It must have been sticking straight out to do that, but it hit right on the spot. He held me for a minute and started kissing my neck and ear lobes. This really aroused me. Between the feeling of our naked nipples connecting and the feel of his penis head hitting my button, what he was doing on my neck, and all the sexual energy of that room, my stomach was all tight, I was breathing long and hard and I was completely soaked down there. I quickly forgot that I was completely naked in a room with about 50 people, half of which were complete perverts watching everything I was doing.



I had noticed these men around me all evening. They were almost like vultures waiting for a chance to have their way with me, but for now, they stood back and watched the show as John and I continued our little sexual play.



I lowered myself to my knees again and grabbed his penis again. This time when I grabbed it, there was no softness to it. It was almost brittle now and resisted my tug and pull. To make it easier for me to hear him, he leaned forward a little and talked in my ear as I stroked him. He showed me how to put my hand around it and how to use two hands while I was doing it. He showed me how to play with and tug on his balls as I did it and to my surprise, he told me to slowly run my finger over his anus. I was a little repulsed by this but thought hey, if it was going to turn him on, I guess I was up to it.



I continued my pace of stroking him with both hands and every once in a while reaching with one of my hands down to tug on his balls and rub my finger along his anus, just as he had told me and I could tell it was having the desired affect. He sat back with his body tightening up and his pelvis area started to buck a little with my stroking.



A thought crossed my mind as I watched him start to move toward “O”. I bet he would love it if I put it in my mouth. I was in for the full thing here so I leaned forward and put the head of his penis in my mouth. I think I was right as he gasped for air as soon as he felt it. At this, I stood up and leaned over on top of him so that I could have a better angle at what I was doing and slid his penis further into my mouth. I also reached down with my hand and tugged on his balls and sort of pushed on them with my palm. When I got to his anus I felt him tense up and felt the spurt hit the back of my mouth.



I don’t know where my mind was, but it was as if I knew this was going to happen, but I was completely unprepared for it. I had never had a man’s cum in my mouth before and I didn’t think enough to know that was what was going to happen. This of course caused me to choke profusely and I started spitting it out on the floor in front of me. I was holding his penis still with my hand and he continued spurting on his belly as I coughed the last of the taste out of my mouth.



He was in the middle of his orgasm still pulsing and he started busting out laughing. I looked up at him with distain at first, but thought about it for a second and started laughing with him. I guess it was comical in a way. I mean it wasn’t as if he asked me to put my mouth there, I just did it and there it happened.



Once we quit laughing and I quit coughing, which did take a few minutes, I started looking around the room for something to clean up the floor in front of me. As I looked around, it seemed the vultures had closed in a little and they were hanging over us a little watching closely. One of them, an attractive blond haired guy with some jeans and a polo shirt reached down and asked if I minded if he touched my breasts. I was a little caught off guard by this and mistakenly said OK.



He seemed a little shocked at what I said, but he wasn’t going to argue at that point. He reached down and gently tugged on my nipple as I looked up at him. This place was really playing with my mind, but I still heard sirens going off all over the place. This was not the smart thing to do in a room like this and the next thing I knew, two more guys asked if they could touch my breasts. I sort of pulled away quickly and John took that as his queue to step in and he sort of brushed the guys aside and told them not tonight guys as he grabbed my hand and slowly walked me into another room.

Chapter 4: Little Red Riding Hood



<>



Morgan grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me back. “I really don’t like this, Johanna.”



“I don’t care. You owe it to me.”



“Sweetheart, this will only lead you down a -”



“Spare me.” Just then I tripped on a groove in the pavement. I wasn’t used to wearing such immensely high hells. Morgan steadied me and I unfortunately had to look at her.



“I know you’re hurt. I know, okay? And it sucks that Tate let you down so much, and that I let you down so much. And it’s awful you’re seeing all the not-so-glamorous parts of this job. You just have to remember it’s a means to an end, not for fucking life! And if you meet Thomas and you get into the shit storm I’ve gotten myself into, you’ll be doomed forever. Please, let’s just go back home.”



Her words were valid. I knew I was doing something I would possibly never be able to get myself out of. At the moment, it seemed like a good idea. I was eager for self-destruction. I was inexplicably disappointed in Tate and I wanted to lash out. All I could think of was the way he shed the cultured facade he had and took me, treated me like a whore, and left me shaking on the sofa. If he wanted me to only be a whore, I’d be a whore. I wanted to ruin whatever was between us. I wanted a brutal reminder of what world I was in. Meeting Thomas would be that.



Perhaps I should just go get hammered or get a tattoo or pierce my eyebrow. Something drastic and damaging, but something that wouldn’t be equivalent to selling my soul.



And then the whore Rebecca stepped out into the street a few blocks down. She was far away but I could still make out her challenging stare. I ran hands down the red dress I wore, smoothing its wrinkles and its catches on some of my more unflattering curves.



“We’re going.”



Morgan followed behind, muttering something under her breath. Then, “You know Tate’s not going to like this, right? I know that’s the whole point of you doing this but I want you to understand he’s probably going to drop you. He doesn’t share, and he doesn’t deal with girls who have pimps.”



“I don’t care,” I said. My heels were going to wear off at the rate I was stomping towards the bar.



It was a tiny dive, smokey and cramped. The scents of cigarettes, spilled tequila, and shame assaulted me as I made my way further into hell. It was empty except for the tall, thin man I imagined to be Thomas, Rebecca, and two other girls. They were all so skinny I wouldn’t be surprised to hear they were on coke.



Immediately Morgan’s demeanor shifted. She grew quiet, tense, and submissive in a way I never saw before. She moved to stand in front of me and gestured to Thomas in greeting.



“Who have you brought me?” Thomas asked. He grinned at me but there was a calculating gleam in his eyes that made me shudder.



Morgan looked back at me, her eyes softening. She shook her head minutely and then turned back to her pimp. “Her name is–”



“Come here,” he ordered, his black eyes focused on me. “I want to see you up close.”



On shaky legs I crossed the floor. Rebecca snickered when I bumped my hip into a table. Thomas sighed.



“Rebecca, I’m sick of you. Leave the room.”



His words were apparently enough. Rebecca quickly made her way out like a frightened child, not sparing me another glance. Thomas’s grin returned.



“I don’t like it when my girls fight, and I don’t tolerate petty jealousies. Now come here.”



I finally made it to him and forced myself to hold still as his soft hands ran through my hair. He fingered my bangs and rolled his eyes.



“I really don’t like bangs. You’ll have to pin them back.”



Finally having a chance to get a good look at him, I wasn’t impressed. He looked about thirty and, though he was tall, he was extraordinarily skinny which gave one the idea he was weak. But that one glimpse of what lingered beneath that unsuspecting facade was enough to have me hold very, very still.



He circled around me, touching my hip, stroking my back, poking my stomach. He pressed his hand against my tit and barked out a laugh when I jumped.



“Sit down, baby. Let’s go over a few things.”



I sat down at a table that looked like any minute it might collapse. He plopped down across from me and gestured to one of the other girls. She quickly ran over to the bar and said something to the aging bartender cleaning up. He poured him a glass of beer which she nearly spilled in her rush to get back to Thomas.



All while this went on, Thomas’s black eyes never strayed from my face. He wanted me to see this display of power, I guess, and he wanted to watch every emotion and thought play across my expression.



“What is your name?” he asked.



I had to clear my throat of its nerves before I could answer. “Johanna.”



“Why do you want to work for me?”



“I need money. And I’m not making enough on my own.”



He smiled briefly. “Of course you’re not. You should know I take 60% of everything my girls make. 60%. Sounds like a lot but you’re going to be making more than you know what to do with. Understand? I have lots of rules. Going into this you gotta know so you don’t make a mistake. I don’t like mistakes.”



I just nodded.



“From now on I own you. I own everything you do. You’re not allowed to do anything without my say-so. You want to buy a dress? You call me first and let me decide if you need it. You want to take a shit? Not before some customer wants anal. You need to ask me first. Got it? You can’t say no to anything. I decide what you can do and what you can’t.”



It felt hot and small in that trap of a bar. I was sweating and probably visibly shaking. I should have run but I’d come this far. I felt Morgan’s clammy hand on my shoulder and I took a heavy breath.



Thomas watched the scene, watched my reaction, and nodded. “This is real shit, JoJo. I want you to fully understand what this is before you accept, because once you do there ain’t no going back. And one last thing– I get to sample the goods before I take you on.”



Now I knew I was shaking. My knees were knocking together and I couldn’t get them to stop. I couldn’t even keep up the brave face anymore; I’m sure I looked terrified.



Thomas reached over to cup my cheek. “You look like Little Red Riding Hood in that dress, baby. I like it. I like feeling like the Big Bad Wolf. I want you to wear red every day. That’s your first test, little Red.”



I swallowed down bile and forced myself to hold still. He brushed his fingers against my lips.



“I’ll try you in two days. Saturday. Be waxed. Come back here and I’ll take you. You can go, JoJo.”



I stood too fast and almost fell on my face. Morgan steadied me and took my arm. We started to leave but then Thomas called us back.



“Morgan?”



She slowly slid her eyes in his direction.



“Good job.”



<>



When we got back to our apartment I had three messages from Tate. All were asking me where I was, and that he wanted to do dinner tomorrow night at 7. I had a message from Lou, my boss from the diner. He wanted me to come in during the weekend to work a bunch of odds and ends shifts no one else wanted to take. I made the decision not to call him back. I didn’t need to work there anymore, anyway. That part of my life was gone. That Johanna was dead.



I headed straight for the shower, tearing off that red dress and jumping beneath the boiling hot spray. I wanted to wash off his handprint from my cheek, the sickening sensations of his touch on my body. I wanted to wash away the memory of that whole bar.



I thought about sleeping with him and dry heaved. How the fuck would I ever go through with it?



When it seemed I used all the hot water and I was pruning up, I turned off the faucet and pulled back the shower curtain. Morgan was there, leaning against the wall. Her face was so sad.



“Do you see now, Jo? Not as glamorous as you thought.”



“I never thought it was glamorous,” I muttered. My voice was unrecognizable.



Her lips twisted. “You want revenge, but like Hanzo says in Kill Bill, revenge is never a straight line.”



I rolled my eyes. “Leave it to you to quote a Tarantino movie.”



“Seriously. I know you’re pissed at Tate. Good. Fine. But don’t do this. You can still back out. I’ll find you someone else if you don’t think you can deal with Tate anymore and you can just be on our own. You don’t need Thomas.”



I sat down on the edge of the tub, still dripping from my shower. I was cold as the air blew against my wet skin but I didn’t feel like getting dressed. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I was bone-tired.



“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know who I am.”



Morgan laughed. “You’ll find that everyone feels that way, hooker or not. Now get dressed. Let’s go get drunk.”



<>



I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because Thomas had instilled enough fear in me that he would somehow know if I complied. Maybe because it was the only outfit I had clean. Maybe it was because I was still punishing myself. Whatever the reason, I pulled on another red dress I had. It really suited me.



Because I felt like I was betraying him, I put Tate’s necklace on, too. That way I was equally paying tribute to two men who wanted to own me.



Morgan frowned when she saw me wearing red but she didn’t say anything.



The club she brought us to had lots of flashing lights and people who were barely dressed. It was the kind of place I’d never dare go to before. Now I walked up to it, not even thinking about being uncomfortable. Slowly but surely I was growing more confident with my body, and with those eyes that followed it. They were considerably less harmless than other monsters I’d encountered.



The bouncer let us in. We hauled ass to the bar. I ordered vodka; she got tequila shots for the both of us. We were already feeling loose-limbed and happy by the time we skated out to the dance floor.



A hypnotic beat began to vibrate through the speakers, humming through the floors and pulsing through our bodies. We writhed against one another, laughing when our breasts touched. Guys came and went around us, pounding their hard pelvises into us to the music. We paid them little attention; they were faceless.



Morgan moved away to dance with a handsome guy who asked to buy her a drink. She laughed, waving at me before she disappeared into the throng of bodies. I danced alone, winding my arms up above me and rocking my hips back and forth.



I felt the chest of a man press into my back. I rested against him. The exertion of dancing for God knows how long plus the vodka and tequila working its way through my bloodstream made me weak. His rough hands ran down my arms, resting when they found my own. The man intertwined our fingers and set us on a slow erotic dance that contrasted with the slamming quick song currently playing.



His hips pushed into my ass and I gasped when I felt him there, hard and hot. He was wearing trousers, not jeans, so it was much easier to feel the outline of his cock. In spite of not knowing who he was or what he looked like, my body responded. My nipples hardened, my pussy prepared itself, and every inch of my flesh wanted this man inside me.



I twirled in his arms, the liquor loosening my inhibitions enough to suggest just that. Then I saw who it was. Tate continued to dance, his glare murderous in the flashing lights of every color. He dragged my body back to me, grinding his cock against my stomach as the music went on. He said something but I couldn’t understand him, so he moved his wet lips to my ear.



“Found you.”



We danced like that, angry but desperate for the feel of our bodies rubbing against one another, for what seemed like hours. He licked the sweat from my neck and I scratched at his back. He roughly stepped between my legs, fucking my hip as I rode my pussy against his strong thigh.



His lips found my collarbone. His tongue snaked out to wind its way up and down. Then he blew against the sensitive and damp skin and I shattered into pieces.



“Take me home,” I begged in his ear.



He moved away from me and took my hand, practically dragging me to the door. We took a cab and he mauled me in the back, heedless of the driver watching us in the rearview mirror. He murmured the address to the driver while I collapsed against the seat. Then Tate turned back to me, eager to exact his revenge on me avoiding him.



“I don’t like having to chase you,” he grunted. He popped my breast out of the dress, concealing me from the driver’s eyes. “Morgan told me you were going to a club when I called her. I didn’t know where you were, that’s why I called her, so don’t freak out about that.”



Dimly it occurred to me the cabbie might crash over the show we were giving him, but then I remembered we were in NY. He probably saw this all the time.



“I do like when you don’t wear a bra, however.” Tate’s tongue circled around my nipple, sucking it into his mouth. It would have been painful if it were anyone else, but the sight of the back of Tate’s dirty-blonde head made my pussy even more drenched than before.



He took his mouth away. The cool air against my wet breast made me moan.



“You’re mad at me.”



I just nodded.



“Because of last night.”



I nodded again.



“I’ll have to fix that, I guess. But in the meantime…” His hand reached between my thighs. I tried to clench them, consciously aware we were speeding along city streets and stopping at endless red lights. I didn’t want anyone to see, in spite of how the thought of someone watching Tate fingering me surprisingly made me wetter.



“Wait. Please.”



He just shook his head and kissed my lips, pushing his tongue through them to dance with mine. His clever fingers tickled the soaked panties that were practically sticking to me now.



“How I want you. I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight you’re not going to remember anything in the morning but my name and my cock.”



Like the little whore I was, I made a whimpering noise. Tate snuck his thick middle finger around the side of my pants and slipped the whole thing inside of me. I shook around it, an orgasm just in reach. Then the cab stopped, and Tate stopped, and I nearly cried. Tate paid the driver with his sticky fingers and then he pulled me out into the blistering cold. It almost sobered me up enough to forget the delight Tate’s body could bring me. Almost.



Then I looked around me and realized I was not at my apartment building.



“Tate, what–”



“Shush. We’re at my place.” He yanked my arm and dragged me up the stairs, nodding at his doorman as the older gentleman opened the large doors for us. My mouth dropped open. I’d never seen such a magnificent apartment building before. Not even my father lived in such a place. I was still a little drunk so I wasn’t even sure where we were in relation to my apartment.



And why the hell was Tate bringing me there? We got on the elevator with a few other couples. I stared at his profile the whole time, trying to figure him out with my clouded mind. While we made the ascent, I got out my cell to text Morgan.



“Am with Tate. Are you okay?”



She texted me back right away. “Figured. I’m home. Have fun. :)



We got out on the thirtieth floor. I followed Tate, completely mystified. He unlocked the door to his apartment and practically pushed me inside.



It was dark and he didn’t bother turning on the lights. He took my hand and lead me to his bedroom, tossing me on the soft bed. It was pitch black so I couldn’t see him, but I could sense him standing in front of me.



“You can snoop around my apartment tomorrow. I need to fuck you tonight, and I need my cock in your mouth right now.”



He turned on a lamp that shed a little faint light on his bedroom. It was simple and very masculine with dark grey walls and black bedsheets. A painting of a flower in full blossom hung above the back of the bed. A dresser with a large mirror on top was to the right of us. Other than that, the bedroom was unadorned. I liked it. It was very Tate– understated but refined.



He pulled my head toward him so I could refocus. He removed his shirt and lowered the zipper of his trousers to reveal the silk grey boxers underneath. I could make out the wetness his precum caused and I just had to squeeze my legs together. He smiled at me, cupping my face.



“Suck me,” he whispered. It was half-command, half-plea.



I was eager to. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking him in. I wanted to make him as unhinged in my hands as I was in his.



I violently tugged his boxers down, using much more force than I normally did. I was drunk with the desire to possess him; there was little room for bashfulness now.



His hard cock presented itself for licking, and lick I did. I even traveled down to his balls, sucking one and then the other. I licked at that tender spot behind them, twirling my tongue around and rejoicing when he thrust his cock into my face. I held his balls while my mouth made its way back to his cock. I kissed the tip of the head just gently with my lips. When I pulled away, a long stream of precum came with me. I glanced up at him and licked my lips, drinking it in. His whole face dropped with agonized pleasure as he groaned.



And then I took him in, squeezing his balls just as his cock lodged in my throat.



“Fuck, Johanna,” he screamed. His hand grabbed the back of my hair and he pulled me off of him.



I opened my mouth to complain and he took that moment to push me right back. It dawned on me what he wanted. He wanted to fuck my face.



“Fuck, yes. Take that cock.”



I did. I took it all the way down, lathering it with my saliva and loving it with my tongue. He really pumped his way in now, going too far down and making me gag. My eyes watered. He pulled out and muttered “sorry”.



We went on like this for a while until I felt his balls tightening. He was going to cum.



He ripped his cock from me. “I want to fuck you,” he panted. “It’s gonna be hard and fast.”



He threw me back on the bed and tore off my red dress, tossing it somewhere behind him. He stroked my necklace, his eyes glowing possessively. Then he savagely pushed down my panties until they just reached my thighs.



He hunched between my legs and penetrated me deeply in one slick slide.



“Shit!” I screamed, feeling that orgasm that had been taunting me peek its head back up.



His hands grabbed my sides. “Scream for me.”



I moaned every time he sunk into me. It was slow at first but he quickly gained momentum, slamming into me with a grunt.



One of his hands left my side to circle around my soaked clit. “You’re gonna cum around my cock, Johanna. And soon.”



He sucked on my nipple. I shook around him. “Oh God. Oh God, oh God.”



“Yes,” he yelled, fucking me with ferocity. “Cum now!”



My pussy trembled. Every muscle in my body tightened. My glazed eyes met his. I released, cumming and cumming. It wouldn’t cease. I could feel me leaking out around his cock, dripping onto my thighs.



Then he pushed further and harder into me, stopping and shaking all over. His cock leapt and then pulsed out streams of cum.



He removed himself after he caught his breath. He muttered something complimentary and ran a lazy hand over my body, catching on a nipple. I gasped when the sensation made my pussy clench again.



We rested for a while. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I was going to explain Thomas to him. He was going to be furious. My body was still buzzing from the fabulous fuck we had, but dread was thumping hard in my chest. I had to get rid of it.



“Tate. I did something. Something really–”



“Shut the fuck up. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Everything tomorrow.” He pulled me close to him, laughing when he felt his still-warm cum spilling out of me. “You’re such a good girl. You make me cum so good.”



“Tate. Seriously. I–”



“Tomorrow,” he mumbled sleepily.

(In which I come into fortune, and conspire to deceive my family and bed my mother.)







My name is Bill Jacobson, and just a few short years ago I considered myself a relatively ordinary young man. For the last month, I have been regularly fucking my own mother, and she doesn’t even know it! I know that sounds crazy, and to be honest, it probably is – incest alone is crazy enough, but that a guy could be fucking the woman who raised him without her knowing that it was him? You’ll see.



To make sense of all this, let me first tell you a little about my family.



My mother is Janice Barnes, her maiden name, which she uses between husbands. She is the older of two daughters, raised in New Hampshire almost solely by her mother, owing to the relatively early death of her elderly husband. I don’t really know much about Janice (the name she has insisted I use ever since I turned thirteen) before she was in high school, but I do know that she hit that stage of life convinced that her assets were almost entirely physical and that her goal should be the ensnarement of a rich man. Her photo albums show her hanging with a steadily older crowd until finally, at just fifteen years of age, she met and seduced James Jacobson, the decade-older scion of a moderately successful clan of car dealers. James, my father, supposedly did not know her age at first, and did not much care once she passed the age of consent (16) already pregnant with me. They were hastily wed, and with his assignment as the manager/owner of a few of the family dealerships in Massachusetts they settled into what I think they both hoped would turn into a happy marriage.



It didn’t.



The years of their marriage waxed, waned, and ended before I was even into big-boy pants. It turned out that my mother did not really even want kids, she just wanted to use pregnancy and parenthood to help her snare a rich husband, unlike my father, who came from a large family and wanted the same. She hated being a mother, she hated being a housewife, and she hated being married to a man who worked long hours and expected to come home to a smiling wife, a clean house, and a hot meal. From what I have heard, they spent their time either arguing or fucking, the latter of which managed to produce my sister just 18 months after I was born. Their divorce apparently surprised nobody, but the fact that Janice fought for and got full custody of my sister and I surprised many – it took them a while to realize that she was leveraging us for more alimony. Janice took my sister, myself, and James’ money and moved back to New Hampshire, near enough to her old haunts to be comfortable, but far enough to have some distance from her mother and her ex.



Of course, it did not take Janice long to realize that even her generous alimony would not pay for the lifestyle she wanted, especially with all the work of two young children, so after a couple of years she married Tom Waite, who was a nice, naïve guy who loved kids and worked from home. Tom was the closest thing to a real parent that either my sister or I ever really experienced, but once we were both in school Tom’s days were numbered. He took it well, and was such a hopelessly nice guy that he did not even contest contributing more alimony to the cause of Janice’s happiness.



After that came a few boyfriends, off and on. Janice liked fucking and liked money, and after Tom we were old enough to mostly (by bad parent standards) take care of ourselves, so she devoted herself to seducing all the rich and singleish men in town she could. She briefly married a douchebag named Mark, a male version of herself – shallow, sex-crazed, and interested in rich idleness – but after a while he found someone younger and prettier, escaping somehow without having to add to her financial support.



During most of this it was just me and my sister Alexi – we took care of ourselves, looked after each other, were much closer than it seemed most siblings were. Janice? She wasn’t really a mom, she was just this lady who showed up every now and then to sign things, but groceries, or bang some guy late at night in her room while Alexi and I spied through the door. I didn’t really think this was all that weird, or even bad, until Alexi turned 15.



That was 3 years ago, not long after Mark left. Janice suddenly started paying a lot more attention on Alexi, doting on her, buying her new clothes, taking her to parties. I am not sure if Janice wanted more introductions to the increasingly younger men she was pursuing, or if she felt that turning Alexi into her disciple would somehow validate her existence, but in just a few short months Alexi went from being my closest confidante to being, well, younger Janice. I was shocked at Alexi’s conversion – we had always despised what Janice represented, and was stunned to see how much stronger was her need for parental attention. I lost her.



I had gone from being one of a pair of neglected children to being the lone outcast. Despite living in the same house, the activities of Janice and Alexi were known to me only by rumor, and my life become one of sullen solitude. My anger at Janice’s continued neglect and Alexi’s sudden betrayal poisoned the few other friendships I had, and in an effort to shut out the world I focused entirely on academics and the kind of art favored only by the brooding and lonely. I wrote modern jazz, and went to poetry sessions. Not proud of it now, but I did it.



Regardless, my anger bore surprising fruit. Those were my last two years of high school, and seeing sustained academic improvement and artistic bent (and not knowing my family situation), the college admissions boards apparently thought I was a hot prospect on the rise. I was accepted into several universities, even a couple of great ones, leading to one of my few real attempts to get something out of Janice – money. It was hopeless. Her alimony was going to go down when I graduated high school, and she sure was not going to spend party money on my tuition when some cow college in the Midwest was willing to give me a full ride. Unable to move Janice to generosity, and unwilling to join the military, I took the best path out of town and went West.



My first semester at college sucked. Away from the constant source of anger that was my family, I lost much of my passion, and somewhat bereft of social skills I had trouble fitting in with my peers. I wound up hanging around with a band of high-achieving misfits, the kind who drank a little, smoked a lot, and tried just hard enough to remain in that academic band that showed you were smart but not a nerd (at least not to each other). It was not fun, it was just coping, self-medicating with a group of people who thought depression meant you were deep, and among whom I was the deepest of all. Neither Janice nor Alexi ever visited, or called, or wrote, and I was constantly unsure how I felt about that. By going to college, it was like I had ceased to exist for them.



I lost my virginity with Carol, the first of the several random stoned hookups that characterized that group’s attempts to balance lust with apathy. None of them worked out. Even in that group I stood out as off-kilter, and none of them wanted to get too close to me. Loveless, depressed, tolerated only by the intolerable, God only knows where I would have wound up if not for my 18th birthday.



See, the misfits had a tradition for birthdays that you had to follow – whatever that new year let you do, you had to go do it (unless it was permanent and uncool), just so you could show how you yourself were unchanged and thereby prove that the milestone was meaningless. At eighteen, this meant you had to get a tattoo, and buy cigarettes, and gamble, and do a few other things that sounded cool when you were younger. My tattoo was the grim reaper on my shoulder (stolen subconsciously, I now realize, from Airheads), and I was amazed at how much I actually enjoyed the pain. The cigarettes were Camel non-filters, and tasted like ass – I mostly smoked pot, being more interested in the high than in the cancer. And my gambling, out in the flat, corn-saturated, casino-bereft vicinity of my school, was a handful of lottery tickets. Whoop-de-fucking-woo, was I ever an ironic adult badass.



But I won. One of the tickets I had bought was a quick-pick for the state lottery, and I was the sole winner, twelve million dollars as a lump sum after taxes. I didn’t even realize it until the semester ended – I was packing to go back to the old homestead when I found it at the bottom of my laundry bag and decided to check the numbers. In the era of half-billion dollar multi-state lotteries it barely made the news in the state, and certainly never made it all the way back to where Janice and Alexi were slutting it up with the finest in douchebags, but I was rich nonetheless. It was shocking.



I convinced some of the misfits to hang out for a week while the paperwork went through, and then treated them all to a weeklong party. It wasn’t fun, but it was trying desperately to be, and I was not surprised when they gradually wandered off, one by one, back to the families that they claimed to disdain. My roommate Josh was the last one to leave, something that I think he planned out. His father (who apparently was a really nice guy, despite Josh’s professed emotional distance) was a lawyer, and Josh talked to him and got the name of a good financial guy in the area who could help me to control the money, keep it from killing me, or turning me into something even lower than I already was. Probably the only thing that kept me from dying in a bad drug deal before I hit thirty.



“So what do you want to do, son?” He asked me.



“What do you mean? Like stocks and sh… stuff? I don’t know anything about that, I’m going to be a philosophy major, I’ll do whatever you think is best here!” It was hard to censor myself, but swearing in front of him seemed childish somehow – I wasn’t sure I could do it right.



“No no, I can make the money dance, but I need to know the tune. You’ve got millions – not enough to rule the world, but enough to at least try just about anything else you want. You could start a business, live in high comfort without work, give it all to charity – until I know what you want to do, I can’t tell you where to put the money.”



“Shit, man. Sorry, I mean, I’m not really sure! Can I just sort of, you know, cruise for a while, then decide? How would it work, anyway?”



“Well, we can set aside some money for immediate use, put some into short-term instruments that we can access quickly if we need to, put the rest into some riskier, long-term markets. I usually tell my clients to figure a sustained 5% return, adjusted for inflation and after taxes, in perpetuity on whatever you invest – the actual rate of return will vary, but it is convenient to have a number to plan around, and that number has been safe even in tough economies. As long as you give me a little time, and don’t spend too much too fast, I can work around whatever plans you come up with. So how about you keep two million out, buy a car, a house, maybe see the world, and we invest the other ten. That’ll give you about half a million a year in steady income while you decide this one thing – what do you most want in your life, and what money do you need to do it?”



This occupied me for a few weeks. I didn’t do what I figure most people would have – no Vegas, no Riviera, not even a trip out of town. I sat in a cheap local motel, and stared at the ceiling.



What did I want? I batted around dozens of ideas, business, art, all of it was just stuff, it wouldn’t make me happy. So what would? Why wasn’t I happy now? Janice, that’s why. And that’s what I really wanted – I wanted the attention and love of the only parent I really knew, the attention and love that had been denied to me all my life!



Okay, a starting point. But how? I mean, I had a ton of money, but I could not just show up at home with a ton of money and expect Janice to love me. I couldn’t force her into therapy (and would hate it if I could!), and wouldn’t recognize her maternal love even if I saw it. She would probably just hang around me, use me for my money, but the only people who ever got her full attention were the rich studs who she was banging. That was the closest to love I had ever seen her give. Okay, so I would sleep with Janice.



Damn, that was a weird place to end up. Made me stop staring at the ceiling, sit up, and start staring at the wall.



Some part of my brain knew I should be disgusted with the idea, but I wasn’t – she was Janice, and while that also meant she was my mom, we never really had that kind of closeness, and she had never really instilled in me the kind of moral code that most people took for granted. It made sense, to me at least. I could try and change her, but then she would be some different person, and I didn’t want some different person to love me, I wanted HER to love me. And the only kind of love I had ever seen her show was to men who fucked her silly and spoiled her rotten.



“I think I’m okay with that.” I spoke to the wall, but it was like an oath. From that point on, it was just planning.



To get her love, I needed her to be her, and that meant that I could not be me. What would that mean? Well, I would need to look different, and act different, and be in a different place than I was now. All of that was possible, even legal, and a fake ID should be enough to complete the illusion without risking jail time. I spent a week planning, surfing the internet, making phone calls. And already, I realized I was happy.



I would need to live nearer to Janice, but I wanted to stay a college student, as graduating (eventually) was important to me, a way to show that I was her superior. Her house, my childhood home, was practically next door to Dartmouth College, so I contacted the admissions department. Between my excellent high school performance, my better-than-average work at cow college, and the observation that I would pay my own way without scholarship or aid (and possibly donate much more as an alum!), they agreed to admit me starting the following fall. It would be under my own name, but that would be easy enough to hide, I thought. She never paid attention to me before, I could not imagine she would start searching the rolls for either my real name or whichever false name I assumed.



As soon as that was set up, I boarded a plane for Europe. Legal identity notwithstanding, I needed to look, talk, and act like someone else for my plan to work, and Europe offered the right array of quality services without being easy to trace. I forked over hundreds of thousands for very high-quality plastic surgery, designed to make me look a little better, but mostly just different – my chin, my cheekbones, my teeth, the surgeons found small changes that made me look completely unlike the depressed boy who had left for (and was presumably still attending) that cow college in the Midwest. Any distinguishing marks were removed – old scars, distinctive moles, things like that – were removed, and where possible new ones were added. They even had a way to change my voice a little.



The next six months were hard work, as I tried to make a new body and new personality to match my new (if slowly healing) face. I worked with a nutritionist and personal trainer to put some muscle on my poetically-thin frame. I spent hours a week with acting and lifestyle coaches, learning how to create and improvise within a character, even in the real world. There were other instructors, people who taught me to handle myself in a fight, dance and drink, drive a car or motorcycle with confidence, and have all those other little skills I thought I might need to impress Janice. Perhaps most importantly, I visited a number of high-class prostitutes, to develop the sexual confidence and skills I thought I might need to seduce Janice. My mother.



I had a little trouble at the airport on my return – I had to show them the records of my surgery before they believed it was really me on my passport. Had not expected that.



I arrived back in New Hampshire with a few more things to do. I bought a nice one-bedroom condo near my new school and near the local clubs, and bought a new car – a Mercedes CL63 AMG, luxurious enough to impress, no back seat to suggest a family, hardy enough to survive a NH winter. And a Ford pick-up truck, just in case it wasn’t. I got a minimum of expensive and stylish furnishings, and a few decorative touches that seemed in line with my new persona. Finally, I topped it all off with a fake ID showing my new face, a California address, a 21-year-old’s birthday, and the name “Jerod Douglas” – made convincing by the fact that the guy who made it makes thousands of real ones a week (albeit without the thousand dollar surcharge he required for this one).



I was ready.



It did not take long to find her. There were only a couple of clubs in town “nice” (i.e. expensive) enough to make for good trawling territory for Janice. I found her on the first Friday, swirling in wearing about half a dress and clearly already enjoying at least a light buzz. It was hard not to stare. Looking at her now, as a sexual object, it was hard not to consider her hot. She was lean where she should be lean, curved where she should be curved, and I knew that it was all genuine and natural. Her blonde hair was styled, her make-up minimal but still somehow both elegant and trashy. There were other women who might match her in some individual aspects, but overall she clearly owned the room. She moved seductively, confidently, scanned the room like a predator.



Caught me looking.



My breath stopped – for a moment, there was sheer panic, conviction that this plan could never work, but there was no recognition in Janice’s eyes. She paused for second, broadened her smile a little bit, a small suggestion that she was available and not unattracted, and then she continued her evaluation of the room. I breathed out.



“Careful there, buddy. She’s dangerous!” I had made a point of talking to and generously tipping the bartenders wherever I had gone in town, and it paid off.



“She’s in here a lot, I’ve seen her walk out with a lot of guys, most of them come back a little poorer and a little pissed off.”



“Why? She a thief?” I was curious how Janice was seen in her own world.



“Naw, nothing like that. Easy, supposedly a lot of fun, but expensive. Or so I hear. She likes guys who buy her stuff, but when the money gets thin she finds someone new.”



“Aren’t I a little young for her? She’s what, 30?”



“Older than that, I think she has kids in high school, but I don’t think she cares about age as much as she cares about money. Besides…” He gestured around the bar, “this is not that big a town. How many guys you think we have, can afford a woman like that?”



“Thanks for the warning. ” I couldn’t help but to smile. “Sounds like just my type, but I gotta go – see you tomorrow!”



I slid a fifty across the bar, tossed down the rest of my drink, and walked to the door. I had parked the Mercedes right out front, to make sure she saw it. A quick glance back showed her face in the bar window, watching. Perfect.



The next night, I was back. The place was mostly a dance club, but there were a couple of pool tables set up off in one large corner. I put my name on the board for the next game at one of them, and started to talk to people, casually. I didn’t brag about my money, but I bought drinks for the people I played against and with, men and women both, and before too long was at the center of a happy group of stylish (for the area, at least) young men and women. I kept a subtle eye towards the bar, where yesterday’s bartender was again pouring drinks, and was rewarded when he caught my eye, and nodded his head towards the dance floor.

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