Buying The Virgin Part 1-3 novel Chapter 31

I wake, sunlight slanting across the bed and lie, staring up at the ceiling.

What was wrong with me last night?

I must be nuts. As if my Master would allow anything, or anyone, to hurt me.

I turn and startle as I find him, propped up on an elbow, watching me from above.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“I did, yes, thank you Master……Master?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry I was so silly last night.”

His eyes widen, his head tilting slightly. “Silly?”

“About going to the club, I mean…… could we go another night? Tonight perhaps?”

He hesitates. “You’re sure of that Charlotte? It’s what you want?”

“Yes, Master. I am.”

A slow, gradual smile illuminates his sombre face. He reaches to trace the outline of my lips with a finger. “Of course we can.”

He looks over me…” Michael…”

“I heard,” says Michael’s voice, still a little sleep befuddled. “You just ruined my plans Charlotte.”

“Really? How?”

“I’m going to have to save myself for this evening, or I’ll be no good to you. But I’ve woken up with a raging hard-on and I was just about to do something about it…”

*****

Unsure of what to expect from a ‘Club’, I am reassured by the surroundings: a crowd of people humming around a bar, chatting, drinking, some dancing. Various doors off, lead to darkened rooms. A smell of chlorine, suggests a pool or jacuzzi somewhere close by, as do couples wandering around wearing only a towel.

“Want to look around, Charlotte? We can show you around if you like, or just have a wander if you prefer.”

“I’ll look around myself, Master.”

“Fine, Michael and I will be over here by the bar.”

The two start chatting with a group of people who they obviously know of old. Or to be precise, my Master talks, whilst Michael stands and listens. He seldom says much.

Drink in hand, I sip, as I amble aimlessly around the floor, peering down the dark corridors. Several strange guys, some quite attractive, are trying to catch my eye, but I look the other way and move on.

Some rooms are empty. In others, groups of people, some couples, some many more, in various stages of dress and nudity, are preoccupied with each other. A girl in stockings and no more, locked in an iron-barred cage, invites passers-by to stroke, or feel, or fumble.

A blond woman, her make-up rather over-made, and hair with that brassy look that suggests it comes from a bottle, intercepts me.

“Hello. Charlotte, is it? You’ve come with James and Michael then?”

There is something about the woman that I don’t care for, but I am the stranger here. Good manners seem politic. “Yes, that’s right.”

She says to me “Well it’s nice to meet the mystery girl at last.”

“Sorry? I don’t follow you?”

“You. The mystery girl.” She points at my chest with her glass, and I hope that she hasn’t drunk so much, that her cocktail ends up all over my lovely dress. “We’ve all been wondering what happened to those two.” She head-points my Master and Michael, who are standing at the bar, still chatting with another group.

“I’m really sorry, but I’ve no idea what you mean.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Your two guys there, James and Michael. We used to see them here at least a couple of times a week, especially Blondie there. Then, they just vanished from the scene.” She leans in, whispering conspiratorially. “Rumour had it that there was some girl had her hooks into them - no offence meant - I mean who wouldn’t want to with those two? But none of us could figure out who it could be. And now, up they pop again, with you in tow…”

I am beginning to feel uncomfortable with this one-sided conversation, and start to make my excuses, but she snags me by the arm, and I can find no polite way to disengage myself. I cast a glance sideways, to see that my Master is watching me.

Inside, arranged as the kind of classic dungeon you could see in any Hollywood movie, it has every appearance of a Medieval torture chamber, with a rack, chains and manacles hanging from the walls, and a heavy, timber carved cross mounted upright.

A series of wide windows set into the walls of the room, heavily barred in wrought iron, provides a viewing platform for spectators from the outside corridors. The corridors outside are dark. The room itself is in a kind of half-light. Good for looking in, but not out.

I hesitate…… My heart races and my breath comes in short starts……

But I asked to come here. I asked to play these games.

“You trust us, don’t you, Charlotte?” My Master’s gaze is keen.

“Of course, I trust you. Both of you.”

Holding my head high, I step into the chamber, Michael and my Master flanking me. Perhaps I might have found the array of equipment intimidating; a bench, ropes dangling from the ends, brass rings set into the walls, a rack containing whips, floggers and flails, but my Master’s promise is with me.

And Michael loves me.

As we step inside, Michael looks at me for a moment, drops back a step, closes the door and firmly draws the bolt. Any person standing at the barred windows can see anything that happens inside here, but no-one can enter until the door is unbolted from the inside.

A small crowd is gathering around. Ready to see a show? There are a lot of them. They stare in, fifty pairs of eyes….

…. But I know what my Master and Michael have done, keeping them out, to keep me feeling safe.

My Master, pausing to choose, takes a flogger from the rack, red braided leather around the handle, and long black tresses in a suede-soft, velvety hide. With a crack, he flicks it at the leather studded padding of a bench, and I start at the noise. He strokes it under my chin, holding my eyes as he does so. He does not smile at me, but I sense the smile inside.

I am panting hard now, pulse beating fast, and the blood singing in my ears.

My Master holding me by one arm, Michael by the other, I am turned on the spot, displayed to the watching crowd.

Michael, behind me, first pulls the lower folds of the dress to one side, displaying my legs to the watchers, bare to the hips, no panties. Eyes, male and female, follow his every movement. Then, slowly, he unbuttons the halter of the beautiful dress

The halter unfastened, and the lovely thing falls away from me in a puddle of black sparkle, leaving me naked to the crowd.