The Fifty Per Cent Club
Readers please note that, while the sex and bondage in these chapters is largely consensual, that will not be the case as the story continues. Similarly, most of the sex is lesbian, but in future chapters there will be much greater diversity. Thank you for reading my work: I look forward to reading your comments.
Chapter One – Dinner
My name is Amelia, and I am a part-time pleasure slave. That status costs me the equivalent of about $1,500 a year; my subscription to the 50% Club. To be a part-time master or mistress is much more expensive, about $5000, so most of those who aspire to that status are fairly wealthy. I make a good living as an interior designer, but my hours- indeed my days and weeks- are very flexible.
Eventually I will give myself completely to a dominant man or woman, or a group of them, but I do not feel quite ready yet, although I am given to suddenly impulses, usually after having orgasms while in bondage. I am, after all, only twenty-three. I skipped university to help my aunt with her design business, so I’m a few years ahead of most of my contemporaries.
I had chosen twenty-seven as the age at which I would stop making my own decisions, but recent developments have tempted me to bring the date forward. I rent my house, for there’s no point in starting out on a twenty-five year mortgage. I bought a new car a few months ago, thinking that it would probably be my last. It’s a strange thought to have at my age. I remember my grandfather saying the same thing, but he was seventy-nine.
Within about 150 miles of my home, the 50% Club hosts about twenty events a year. Most take the form of information dinners, for which I pay about $100, and the dominants up to $300. The Club is something of a money pit, but it works on the assumption that it members have few other interests or commitments. Thee are no staff present at these events. Caterers are hired to provide the food and to leave it in containers that keep the hot food hot and the cold food cold. They also stock the kitchens and larder-fridges with breakfast and lunch items, and leave a few minutes before the first guests are due. Most never ask, but the curious are given the impression that the event has something to do with national security.
The events vary in size, and to some extent in format, but the last one- ten days ago- was fairly typical. I had to drive about sixty miles to get there and the location was quite remote, on land which was classified as a national forest. It was a two-storey lodge with about twenty-five rooms and two large spaces, one of which served as a dining room, the other being suitable for exhibitions or conferences. The grounds were very extensive, and very private, for the property was well-fenced.
There were no preliminaries. It was late spring and very warm, so we slavegirlswere dressed in thin blouses and short skirts, with no underwear allowed. The slaveboys wore shorts. Most of the dominants were not dressed much differently, although some allowed themselves bras and/or knickers or underpants. They were distinguishable by the fact that they all wore watches, and did not leave their mobile ‘phones in their cars. As a slave, I would not need to know the time, or to communicate with the outside world.
The organisers, who were among the diners, had placed name cards on all the places, alternating between subs and doms, but irrespective of other characteristics such as sex or sexual orientation. As a pleasure slave, I was required to be bisexual. At that time I had had only male masters, and could only wonder whether or not I would find lesbian sex difficult.
We did have help. My place, like all the others, came with a little envelope of pills that I knew would turn me, for a few days, into a sex addict who would crave any kind of sensitive contact with anyone who claimed me. One of the many benefits of membership was access to drugs and other treatments of which the general public and their doctors were completely ignorant. When I sat at my place I was soon joined by a very handsome and powerful-looking black woman on my right, who introduced herself as Maddie, which was not her real name. On my left sat a milk-mannered man of about thirty, who was reasonably attractive with a very trim and fit-looking body, and called himself Tony.
We all exchanged basic information about where we came from and what we did for a living, but we were just passing the time politely. When all the places were occupied, the man at the head of the rectangle stood up and tapped a glass to get our attention. He did not give a speech, or say any words of welcome. He just tossed a coin, and called “Heads.” “Slaves, look to your right,” he said, and sat down.
Everyone knew what was meant by the little ceremony. Maddie was now my mistress, and I was her sex-slave for the next three days. She was allowed to arrange exchanges with other members, but she could not abandon me completely She could do almost anything she liked with me, but sadistic tortures, scat, and punishments that left permanent marks were forbidden. There were rules, but by and large the Club relied on its members’ common sense. When the three days were up, all the slaves had to be fit to do their jobs and appear in public.
Although I had managed to remain outwardly calm, my skin had been prickling since Maddie and Tony had sat down with me. Now the latter was out of the picture as he turned to assess the girl on his left, who was flushing bright red. Maddie was turning towards me, and it was my duty to turn to her, to enable her to examine me properly.
I thought that she was About five years older than me, and larger all round, with a firm, athletic body and quite big breasts. Her face was broader than mine and her mouth quite large, with veryfull but soft-looking lips. Her nose was slightly flattened, and her eyes big and brown. Her hair, like mine, was straight but trained into a short bob. As she looked at me her lips parted slightly, and I felt a hunger radiating from her, a presence– a charisma- that I had not sensed from any of my other users.
I was hers, if she wanted me, for the next three days, and if she did Not want me, she would give me to someone else. There was no way out of that, for the Club did not allow safe words or early departures. As if to underline the point, before she said a word she made a circulation motion with her finger, and took a pair of police handcuffs from her only pocket. I turned away and put my wrists behind my back, and a moment later I felt the metal on them, and they were locked together. The same kind of thing was happening all around the table, although some of the dominants locked their slaves’ wrists in front of their bodies. Some had brought a collar with them and locked their slave’s wrists to that.
Only masters and mistresses were allowed to visit the buffet table, bringing back oversized plates from which to feed both themselves and their slaves. The food included some delicious rare roast beef, some successful prawns and some brown shrimps which are particular favourites of mine, as well as a wide range of salads. I was lucky that Maddie did not bring back anything horrible, for tongue, calamari and oysters were all available to those with a taste for rubbery and slimy foods. Wine, water and fruit juice was already on the table, and strategies were available for those of us who could not pick up our glasses.
Dinner was supposed to take some time, with the process of feeding being a means of breaking the ice for those who were enslaving, or being enslaved by, total strangers. It was against the rules to force slaves to eat things that disgusted them, or to make them drink alcohol, so some discussion was inevitable. There was plenty of time to talk, and Maddie was eager to hear about my previous experiences, as we had never encountered one another before.
“This is only my third occasion, mistress,” I admitted, for I had been a member for only two months. “I’m afraid that you’re my first female owner, mistress, so I hope that I won’t be a disappointment to you.”
I was actually finding her, at close quarters, very interesting. I had never been with a black person before, and she seemed to be what might be described as an “alpha female,” with a face and body that were strong but feminine, combined with a more masculine, domineering manner. I sensed that Tony, on my other side, was not at all domineering, but relied on his slavegirl’s instinctive submissiveness. While he was feeding her poached salmon he was also slipping his hand up her skirt, and she was struggling to take the food and act normally with his hand grouping her vulva. He seemed quite like my second master, and life would probably have been simpler with him, but I was glad of the opportunity to test my lesbian skills. I was, after all, used to masturbating, so in theory I knew how to please a woman.
Maddie soon tired of hearing about my experiences. “I’m sure you’ll do your best not to disappoint me, Amelia,” she replied. “I can be demanding, but if I’m not satisfied I’ll always give you a second chance, after a whipping, of course. Don’t expect to be exchanged. I like the look of those tits of yours. In fact, it’s time to get them out. Personally, I don’t think that slaves should be allowed clothing.”
She quickly undid the buttons of my blouse and pulled it open, leaving my boobs hanging free. They were entirely natural but big for my relatively slim figure; soft and pendulant but bulky enough to stand well out from my chest, with the pink, square-sectioned nipples pointing almost straight ahead. She grasped both breasts in her hands, and I looked around nervously, relieved to see that some of the other girls werealready topless. I knew that events could move quickly, for at my first Club dinner my slave virginity had not outlasted the main course. Nevertheless, I could not help being a little bit shy, and I was even more self-conscious when Maddie dropped her handfuls of flesh to resume my feeding.
“I didn’t think they made beef like this anymore,” she remarked as she chewed a mouthful. “Do you like horseradish sauce on it?”
“No, mistress. I like it as it comes, or with a trace of English mustard.”
“I didn’t bring any of that. Perhaps I’ll let you lick some off my clip later. It goes with any kind of meat. You should always try to keep your torso in motion. I like the way your tits move.”
“Thank you, mistress. I’ll do my best. Mistress is very kind, but I’m sure your breasts are bigger and better than mine. I look forward to being given the honour of seeing them, mistress.”
“You’re forward for a slavegirl.” After giving me a slice of beef she reached out again andGrasped my left boob with her right hand.
“I like a white slavegirl. My skin shows up so well against your pale flesh, and it’ll show up whipmarks much better than a black slave’s.”
That was the second time she had mentioned whipping. This could be a painful weekend, but I was surprised at how freely I was juicing, as I felt the wetness oozing out and dripping onto my seat. That was her next port of call, as after a forkful of brown shrimps she pushed a hand up my skirt.
“You’re like Niagara Falls,” she commented. “You haven’t even seen my knockers yet. It’s the thought of my whip, isn’t it? Have you felt the lash before?”
I was squirming, with embarrassment, appreciation and increasing arousal. I gave my chest a little shake to keep my breasts swinging. “No, mistress. I’ve never been whipped. It sounds very painful, but the thought is exciting, mistress.”
“That’s a good summary. ‘Very painful,’ is an understanding when I put my back into it, but it’s still the sexiest thing in the world. I don’t do it for everyone. You’ll have to be very naughty.”
That left me wondering. If the thought of being whipped was arousing, I suspected that the reality was not, and it was probably better if I could avoid it. On the other hand, to be really exciting I had to believe that it would happen at some point. If Mistress Maddie did not whip me, it might be months Before I encountered a master or mistress who would. It was a dilemma that I did not solve that evening, as she started quizzing me about my work. Apparently she had rooms in her house that needed redecorating. In need of advice and a sounding-board, she now had, literally, a captive audience. I did my best to listen attentively and answer helpfully, although I could not do much without seeing the rooms in question.
I was really more interested in watching what was happening around us. To my left, or behind me if I was facing my mistress, Tony had now moved his slavegirl onto hislap. He was still feeding her and she was still wearing her skirt, but from her attitude I sumised that she was mounted on his penis. As he was not actually fucking her, I wondered how he maintained his erection. He managed to keep her there for the rest of the meal, as the man sitting on her other side, realizing what he was trying to do, collected some desserts for him when he went for his own.
Maddie went for our desserts and came back with a slice of New York cheesecake, some chocolate profiteroles and a bowl of salted caramel ice cream. It was a rather haphazard mixture and none of it suitable for the weight-conscious, but all delicious. Having temporarily exhausted the topic of her home décor, she noticed my interest in our neighbors, and guessed what I was thinking.
“He’s been fitted with a regulator,” she told me. “Many men are now. He can adjust his cock for hardness with a remote control that he’s probably got in his pocket, or perhaps it’s linked to his ‘phone. He can stay hard all the time, without actually shagging her. I’m sure he’ll do that soon.”
I could see only one more “mounted” slavegirl, and one mistress who had impaled herself on a male slave. As far as I was aware, neither of my temporary masters had been fitted with regulators. They had all managed four or five ejaculation per day, but with lengthy recovery periods between. All had seemed obsessed with making sure that they had me in all the obvious ways- vaginal, anal, oral and intermammary- as if they were going to boast about it to their friends. Both had got me to masturbate in front of them during those times, and they had all practiced their rope bondage techniques. I found it difficult to imagine how a regulator would change one of the Club’s sessions for me, but I was probably not going to find out this time.
By the time we were drinking our coffee, almost all the people at the table were engaged in some kind of sexual activity. Tony was ignoring his drink and had turned his girl to face him, and was bouncing her vigorously on his lap. She seemed about to cum at any moment, and he was watching her carefully, steadying her by gripping her now exposed breasts. Around the sides of the room, under the windows, were padded benches, and several couples had retired to them, with a few of the slaves having been stripped completely.
By this time the first couple had left to retire to the master’s bedroom, his slaveboy on a lead, crawling on all fours behind him. In comparison, Maddie seemed almost different. She was kissing me fervently, tongue deep in my mouth, and from time to time she dipped one or two fingers into the wetness of my pussy and thrust them between our lips. She did, however, pause from time to time to drink some coffee, and I took those opportunities to suck some up through my straw.
More than ever, I was feeling the power of Maddie’s personality, projected from her almost larger-than-life face and body. Her lips seemed to overwhelm mine; a vast new territory for me to explore, and her tongue was able to fill my mouth and suddenly to move to my throat or my ears, covering huge areas of my skin at any one time. She seemed to like me licking her face, and even her eyesilids, and I looked forward very much to her striping naked and using me to stimulate her whole body. I assumed that it would happen soon, for it not occurred to me that she might not be staying on the premises. She had drunk very little wine, but I had put that down to absoluteness. Most of the diners drank sparingly to avoid dulling their sexual responses, and some made their slaves stick to water or fruit juice.
Maddie kept snogging me until Tony had taken his girl away and the room was fast empty, and I ventured to ask her whether the time had come to retire to her suite.
“We’re not staying here,” she replied. “My house is only a few miles away.”
That probably shouldn’t have shocked or frightened me, as the dominants were perfectly entitled to take their slaves away. It had not happened to me before, however, and I suppose that I had always felt relieved by the presence of so many people. It was easy, if naïve, to assume that they would investigate any prolonged screaming, and that the masters and mistresses would not want to make too much mess in their hotel rooms. Now it felt that, for the first time, I would be truly and Totally at the mercy of another human being.
I had little doubt that Maddie would have a soundproof room, and her interest in whips and whipping seemed to take on a new significance. Still, it never occurred to me to try to escape, and in handcuffs it would have been impossible anyway. She did not remove them, nor did she button up my blouse, but she did put a dog’s choke collar around my throat, and with that she led me to her vehicle, which turned out to be little van with seats in the back and but a screen to separate me from the front part. I was never exposedd to the great outdoors, for it seemed that the four guests who were not staying had been allowed to park in a garage under the conference room, and it was possible to open the door remotely and just drive out. I could see nothing but the inside of the van: the journey took no more than twenty minutes and it ended inside another garage. She helped me out and led me into her home.
Chapter Two – Pleasure and Pain
Maddie was rich. She was not a billionaire, but he was certainly a millionaire, and my initial impression of her house was that it could certainly have accompanied a staff of several full-time slaves. She seemed, however, to occur it alone, although I had to assume that, it being at least a five bedroomed house with at least four bathrooms and three reception rooms, she had staff who lived elsewhere. The décor was unremarkable, with a mildly Swedish flavour that revealed where she had bought most of the furniture.
There were no obvious signs of her BDSM activities, although a few extra plant-hanging hooks and surplus light fittings could have been used to anchor chains, or to hang the whips that were in regular use. During those few days I never went upstairs. She took me on a brief tour of the ground floor, and I probably benefited from the opportunity to practice walking with my wrists locked behind my back. Without my arms to balance and steady my body I tend to swway more and twist my torso. Mistress Maddie certainly noticed how my breasts swung; indeed she seemed not to have eyes for much else.
When we were in the big kitchen dining she took a large pair of scissors from a drawer and cut away my blouse. “I’ll lend you one of mine when you go home,” she promised, having added another $50 to the cost of my weekend. She Staod behind me for a minute or two, kneeing my breasts, and I was glad then that I was so well-endowed. I could feel hers pressing against my back, and guessed that they were even larger, but so far they were well-hidden by her top. The house was very warm, so it was no hardship for me to go topless, but I felt nervous by the windows. I did, nevertheless, look out of them when I could, noting that there was nothing to see but some neat but featureless garden and the forest beyond it. If I escaped the house I would have no idea which direction to take.
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