I'm sitting in the lounge at the Da Vinci Club, waiting for my first private clients to appear. Michael had announced at my last performance for Master and Mistress that I was available for hire, a ruse to increase the number of proferred tips. Michael did not expect me to take up any of the offers; however, he did pass them on to me. Indeed, they were mainly quite violent or risky; however, one appealed: a group of seven women. They have all watched my performances at Michael's hands and wanted me for themselves; it was intriguing and titillating. It had taken a few months to arrange, as our diaries had to coincide.

I'm braless underneath a sheer, tailored, light grey blouse, a tight, mid-thigh red leather skirt that is slit on one side up to my waist, and a matching red thong. There is a good crowd tonight, and I have had several invitations to play already, which, reluctantly, I have had to turn down.

"Good evening, Sharon. I am Mel," Mel announces as she sits next to me.

I nearly choke on my drink. I recognized Mel! She is a senior NHS director, Joanna Phillipson. I have met her several times at regional and national seminars, the last time being just two weeks ago.

"I'm sorry. I was miles away," I stumble in reply. "It's nice to meet you."

So far, Mel does not recognize me, but I look very different from when I was at my day job! Surprisingly, she doesn't!

"We are ready for you now; everybody has arrived, and we are keen to start. We have been looking forward to this," Mel eagerly announces.

Standing up and walking beside Mel, she places her hand on my bum to guide me through the lounge and to the stairs, where she lets me lead. I can't think why! Catching up to me at the top of the stairs, she firmly squeezes my bum and pushes me toward the Van Gogh room.

The six other women greet me as we enter the suite. They offer quite a variety; one looks quite elderly, seventy or so, thin, with a face lined by too much sun. Two of them are like peas in a pod, attractive and slim, but with a twenty-year age difference: mother and daughter, or sisters? The other three are all forty-ish, fuller-figured but not fat. Mel, I know, is in her mid-fifties. All are dressed, or undressed, in revealing lingerie, including Mel.

No names are given, but pleasantries are passed as they surround me and gently begin exploring my body, hands touching and stroking every part of me. This is not the frantic groping experienced when men explore; it is more of a loving touch, feeling as they would like to be touched themselves.

Before I realized what was happening, I was naked, my clothes so easily removed by experienced hands. The same hands guided me to the large couch in the center of the room, which was more of a bench with a thin cushion, and laid me gently down on my back, stretching my arms above me and securing them. They lift my bum off the couch and place a cushion or wedge beneath it, raising it six inches higher. Next, they pull my legs apart till they are nearly straight, my pussy opens in concert, and then they secure them to the side of the couch. All this, and I have barely felt anything. A strap is placed across my stomach, and a leather hood covers my head, blinding me and adding to my excitement. Both the hood and strap are affixed to the couch. I cannot move, not even nod or shake my head.

Hours seem to pass, but it is only minutes before my arms and legs are being caressed. Gently and softly; it must be some fluffy mitt they are using. Simultaneously, they move along my arms and legs, down or up my sides, over my stomach. Avoiding the obvious targets, ignoring my breasts and pussy. Skirting around them, teasing and pleasuring my skin. It feels like whispers blowing over my body, gently teasing, relaxing, and lulling me into a hypnotic state. Pleasure has never been so gently applied!

Awoken from my pleasant reveries when gnarly fingers enter my open maw, gently sliding their roughness inside me. Yes, I am wet, and they enter me easily. Two fingers slide in and out, then three. Pleasing me, then realizing that the caressing has stopped. A more direct pleasure is now enthralling me.

Oh! That surprised me as both nipples were bitten hard, making me gasp in pain and shock, bringing me back into the real world. They continue nibbling, sucking, and licking at them, making them hard and sensitive. Another mouth joins in the fun, attaching itself to my clitoris, licking gently and bringing it to arousal before biting and nibbling. The gnarly fingers slide in and out of me, touching my G-spot as they slide over it—pleasure at every touch.

The caressing starts again along my legs, arms, and stomach. Every part of me is being used; every part of me is being pleasured. My breathing is heavy and labored, and my whole body is tense in anticipation. It stops; every sensation is taken away simultaneously, leaving me writhing against my bonds, groaning with pleasure and disappointment, and waiting urgently for what comes next. Nothing. An age passes; I can hear muted chatter but cannot make anything out.

The couch moves, and I sense someone crawling from the bottom to approach my gaping hole. Covered breasts slide over my stomach up to my breasts, and I feel something solid pressing against my pussy entrance. My pussy pouts eagerly, trying to entice it inside. The tip passes my lips; it is big and stretches me wide as it slowly pushes deep into me. It's not quite painful, but it's not far from it. It sits inside me, letting me grow accustomed to the size before moving up and down my slippery canal. Slowly at first, then increasingly quickly. They are pounding me like they are going to cum at any second. They don't, but I do. I strain at my bonds and release a guttural moan as I orgasm for the first time. The pounding continues; of course, she can go on forever. She prolongs and reignites my orgasm, turning me into a quivering wreck and ending suddenly by withdrawing and moving off me in one easy movement, leaving me gasping for breath and shaking in pleasure.

Someone kneels over my face; I can smell aroused pussy hovering inches away from me, but I can't see it due to the restraining hood. The woman lowers herself down and along my body, her mouth reaching and sucking my pussy lips, chewing and stretching them. Releasing them to slide her tongue along my open slit, around the outer edges, and poking into the gaping center. Teasingly swiping across my nub before assaulting my lips and hole, then back to my nub. She is licking around it, nipping it between her lips, pulling at it, and making it peek from under its hood, biting at it, and bringing moans of pain and pleasure from me. There's no escape; I do not always like my clitoris played with, but tonight is a good night, and she brings me to the edge of orgasm. Damn, she moves back to my hole, licking around it, poking into it as far as she can with her tongue. Teasing and tormenting, she knows exactly what she is doing. She sits back up, lowering her silk-clad pussy onto my face. I can do nothing but smell her sweet scent.

I jerk in surprise as a vibrator is applied to my clitoris; if I could have moved, I am sure I would have thrown the woman on my face onto the floor. It is intense, and then my nipples have clamps attached to them. Forgetting about the pussy on my face, I gasp and clench my mouth in pain and pleasure. The clitoral stimulation stops, and pain takes its place as a clamp is attached to my engorged nub. These clamps must be on chains as all three get pulled upward together, increasing the pain as they try to lift me off the bed. Vibrations touch my hole as a vibrating dildo is inserted into me, sliding gently, searching for and finding my G-spot. They know they have found it when I hump my hips into the air.

They slowly slip the dildo over and around my most sensitive spot, arousing and igniting my inner pleasure center while pulling and releasing the clamps on my nub and nipples. My body fights against pain and pleasure until it reaches that time when the pain becomes a pleasure, and I succumb to the inevitable orgasm that wracks through my body. The bonds bite harshly into my skin, and my neck aches with the effort to move against the irresistible pleasure pulsing around my body.

Please stop, but I cannot get the words out; my brain is no longer connected to my body. My body wants more; my brain doesn't. As ever, my body wins. They continue playing with my G-spot while releasing the clamps from my other bits. The pain of release gives another edge to the continuing pleasure consuming me.

They're done, and the dildo is removed. My body twitches as it recovers, a straw is pushed into my mouth, and I suck greedily at the cooling liquid. Cooling clothes wipe the sweat from my body, a pleasure in itself. My restraints are not removed.

More muttering as I am left alone to cool off, waiting nervously for what will come.

A voluptuous body crushes over me, a dildo pressing along my stomach. The body is mashed into mine, bare breasts engulfing my orbs, which are small in comparison. Raising her hips, she positions the dildo at my entrance and plunges into me with gusto, mashing her body against and into mine. I wish I could suck on her breasts; they feel so good pressing against mine. Dildos are not quite as good as real cock. They are not as flexible and rub more harshly along my canal. Positioning and getting the right angle are essential to achieve the same level of pleasure. She knows this and positions herself and her dildo to perfection. Quickly bringing my already aroused and willing body to orgasm, which she controls with minor alterations to her movements—keeping me at boiling point for an age before leaving and letting someone else pleasure me. What are they getting out of this? I dismiss the thought quickly as another enormous dildo and equally large breasts invade my body.

This girl feels relatively young. Her breasts, though large, are firm, her massive dildo making up for any lack of experience in getting the position right. Well, if you don't have experience, get a big one! The stretching adds to my pleasure, and I'm soon straining against the bonds as she plunders my pussy. Pushing me over the edge once more. She continues to plow into me; youth has its advantages, and stamina is one of them! Ravaging my pussy, threatening to make it sore, which someone must have thought of, as I feel a hand reach between us and slather lube around and into my pussy. She does not flinch or slow her movement; instead, she increases her pace as the lube takes effect. I feel it splashing and squelching between us as she brings me once more to my peak.

She moves off me, allowing another woman on top. This must be the older one; she feels skinny and has saggy tits, which feel rough against mine. Her dildo vibrates! She may be older, but she knows how to pleasure a woman; her angle is excellent, and she lets the vibrations do their work—leaving the dildo to play against my G-spot rather than continually sliding over it. I am panting and gasping for breath, having lost count of how many orgasms or dildos I have had. She gives me another one, then leaves me.

I scream in pain and surprise, or would have if my mouth were not so dry, as my breasts are whipped hard. Pain sears through them again. Multi-stranded whips slash over my breasts without mercy. This is more brutal than anything Michael has inflicted on me. Again and again, the wicked strands rip into my flesh until ... until I want more! I'm anticipating each stroke, wishing them to strike at virgin flesh and wanting fresh pain to keep me sated.

Pain strikes through my pussy as I get my wish, and the slashing weapon strikes between my legs. Ripping at the tender flesh, pulling at my lips as they get entangled in the strands. Punishing my exposed clitoris with each vicious stroke. Each slashing strike painfully aroused my body. Taking turns now, breasts then pussy are being whipped raw. Michael's mantra and training let me endure. Sucking in a deep lungful of air, I calm myself and let my body enjoy the pleasure it takes from the pain.

After the whipping stops, a dildo enters my sore and ravaged maw. This feels different; it is not very large and feels to have spines or bristles on it. And it rotates! An odd feeling that soon becomes overwhelming as the rotating spines slide and slap over my G-spot. Typical in-and-out motions give you respite from pleasure, but this rotation does not. Continuously, my G-spot is rubbed and aroused with no peace as the spines spin inside me. Vibrators are placed and held against my nipples and my nub. There is no respite, and all my pleasure centers are being attacked. My body is torn asunder by a continuous torrent of pleasure as an orgasm rips through it. The pleasure turns to pain, and back to pleasure, then pain in a cycle of torment until ... nothing.

Nothing until my body is released from the couch, and they slide me to the floor, lifting my hands above my head, attaching bracelets to my wrists, and hoisting me into the air, swaying gently, waiting for what is to come.
Feather dusters! Feather dusters, or something very similar, tickle over my skin, face, shoulders, breasts, stomach, and everywhere. Tickling, teasing, soothing, and relaxing in equal measure. Bliss! Exciting too! My body is responding in the only way it knows how when being pleasured. A gentle ripple of pleasure rolls over me.

Then I lie back on the couch, my hood is removed, and they gently rub the feeling back into my aching muscles. Before washing my face and removing my sweat-encrusted makeup. No! It's too late; the real me is revealed, and on opening my eyes, I see Mel staring at me.

Everybody was kind and complimentary, congratulating me on lasting so well, checking that I was all right, and asking if I could come again.

Seeing me glancing at the array of 'toys,' the older lady picks up the whip to show me. As I thought, it was multi-stranded leather with knots in each strand about two to three inches apart. A cat-o'-nine-tails!

No wonder it hurt so much! Looking down at my still-naked chest, its results are clear to see. Nasty red welts crisscross my breasts; I assume my pubic area looks the same. Strangely, my body starts tingling in desire, wanting more, and pulling myself together with a start, realizing that it is a slippery slope from enjoying pain to needing pain. Handing the whip back to the old lady, she gives me the rotating dildo.

"This is what finally got you. It's undeniable fun," the older lady grins.

The spines, or paddles, are between one and two inches long and flat in shape. It constantly stimulates the G-spot, and its speed surprises me when I turn it on.

"It's adjustable," another woman says, prompting me to play with the settings. I need one of these!

"Enough playing. We have to be out before midnight. Come on, girls, get dressed and tidy up," Mel commands.

They help me get dressed, which takes little time, and I prepare to leave them when Mel approaches me.

"Wait at the bar for me, will you?" she pleads.

Nodding in assent before saying goodbye to them all.

Fifteen minutes later, Mel sits beside me at the bar and looks at me earnestly.

"Can I trust you not to say anything about this?" she nervously asks.

"That works both ways," I reply.

The look of surprise on her face is a picture.

"Oh, yes, of course. I never thought... well, I didn't think at all. Sorry, that was presumptuous of me," Mel said, visibly relaxing.

We each got a drink and sat in the lounge, which was much more comfortable and private. We chatted idly for a few minutes before relaxing enough to ask the obvious questions.

Mel explained that she is bisexual with a preference for women, but with her family background and the times she grew up. We all know the story. Discovering clubs like this gave her a whole new life. However, keeping it secret had been burdensome, so she was shaken by recognizing me.

She was enthralled by my story of how I got into my current role, whore or prostitute, whichever you prefer, and amazed that I managed to fit in so much 'work' and do my day job.

Mel ends our chat as she leans into me, puts a hand behind my head, and pulls me into an ardent kiss, even as her other hand slips up my thigh. Two of its fingers slide under my thong and into my open pussy, the thumb finding my clitoris and beginning to work its magic in the classic assault. Her fingers are exciting my G-spot, her thumb doing the same for my clitoris. Quickly, I return the favor, kissing and fingering her in an act of mutual satisfaction.

Mel clamps my fingers painfully as she squeezes her pussy tightly shut as an orgasm rocks her world, and I am sure the same is happening to her fingers as I orgasm too. Neither of us stops focusing on the other; neither wants to be the first to surrender. However, this is my job as well as a hobby, and Mel eventually grabs hold of my hand and pulls my fingers out of her tormented pussy, slipping her fingers out of me too.

Applause and cheers surround us. Quite an audience has gathered for our impromptu display, and I blush in embarrassment. How odd?

We say our goodbyes, and as I leave the club, Michael approaches me and hands me an SD card.

I looked questioningly.

"It's the recording of your activities tonight. We record all private rooms for safety reasons; please keep this information confidential. The ordinary punters don't know," he winked. "Oh, and the quality isn't that good."

Ken will be pleased!