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No Price Too High: Bound for the Long Carnal Night
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
8,108
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
8,108
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Lance Arrives at the Club
NO PRICE TOO HIGH: Lance Arrives at the Club
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Lance Pearson was impressed. Which happened infrequently.
He stood outside The Club in the warm night, admiring its simple yet elegant style. The front façade looked like the finest mirror-sheened polished marble, but was actually fashioned of huge interlocking slabs of unevenly hewn and sized copper silk granite, polished to a uniform, seamless surface. Tasteful signage two-thirds up the granite
wall and slightly off-center declared, in large beveled bronze lettering, "The CLUB."
Lance approached the entrance where an attendant of non-descript appearance opened the door for him. "Evening, Sir. Enjoy yourself," he said. Lance nodded and entered.
The welcoming foyer continued the class of the exterior. His feet sank into a deep carpet of Near Eastern flavor, primarily a rich maroon color. It appeared to run the length and breadth of The Club's insides. Matching maroon wainscoting lined the walls, and similarly
colored light sconces peppered the walls, high up, with accent illumination.
An important-looking, statuesque woman with the body and carriage of a model came from behind the welcome podium and reached for the invitation in his hand. She read it and welcomed him by name, introducing herself as Maya, authoress of the invitation.
She threw open her arms to coax a welcoming hug, and her warmth was so genuine that he rushed right into it and hugged her back. He felt quite positive about having accepted the exclusive invitation sent him by Maya to come sample The Club during its gala month-opening ice-breaker nights, and to consider taking an exclusive membership.
Maya led him into the sumptuously- appointed bar and told him to grab a drink. She would be back in a few to chat with him about his needs for the evening.
He strode, no, more swaggered, into the bar, knowing he'd draw significant attention. Tall, lean, but with the promise of abundant muscle from the drape of his clothes, his carriage and swagger always drew looks. His shoulder-length jet black hair was like a magnet for gazes and stares.
He opted for a backless bar stool and swung a lanky leg over it, mounting it like a saddle or a pair of inviting hips. His tight,pegged black custom levis with black and silver studs running down the sides ensured that he was all legs on the stool.
Lance grinned widely as he swiveled the stool and took in the room. His attention was drawn to one sight alone: back, near the far wall, a big dude with a ten-gallon hat had himself exposed to the attention of two ,,,, of two twin women, it was! The man's dong was so enormous that the legendary John Holmes would blush in his grave if he saw it.
Lance was neither gay nor bi, but could certainly feature doing the fly-on-the-wall thing to watch this dude put his slab into any mouth, twat, or ass.
He wheeled about and rested his elbows on the bar top, leaning forward. In his sleeveless black and grey mute-striped muscle top, he looked like a panther poised to strike. His bulging arm guns arced and peaked like from the perfect body sculpting ad. The gothic-
looking silver chain link choker around his throat, with dull black studs installed every third link, begged numerous questions about his interests.
"Glenfiddich Solara, if you have it," he ordered from the bar keep. "Double, neat, water back." The bartender nodded. They had the special reserve 18-year old single malt scotch whisky from the Glenfidich distillery.
Maya touched his arm, lingering on its contour, and invited him to a private booth off to the side. They moved to it an sat. She asked him what pleasures The Club might provide to him.
"Well, Maya," he began. "I am a Master. A demanding Master who savors only the most comely sub or slave. I tend to be a benevolent Master – except when my sub breaks rules, disobeys, or defies. In such instances, I will accelerate to intense punishment beyond the pleasures I am taking from her at the moment. My rules are simple and few, but, I do not reveal them. My subs must anticipate them, learn them without any assistance from me. Learning by much error permits me to suffer them trials that will prolong, but solidify, their education."
He shifted and thrust his legs straight out, leaning back in his chair. "Now, with the right female, a dom or otherwise, who is sufficient to the task, I can on occasion be engaged to switch to a sub role myself. But, it takes a most cunning, powerful, and
seductive woman to accomplish that. Many have tried; few have succeeded."
He looked at Maya with purpose. "Perhaps you, or one of your ladies, might tour me to one of your dungeons. I would like to see how they are outfitted."
Maya arched her back in her chair and tossed her head, rolling her eyes slyly around and then fixing them on his as she lowered and squared her head., Her fine ample breasts were perfect full globes stretching the her tight gown with contours that invited a hungry pair of hands, or even hungrier mouth. She reached across the table and stroked Lance’s cheek softly with the back of her hand. “Oh, I can see at least one of my girls is going to get YOUR money’s worth big time, baby-doll! Haaaaa!”
She dropped her hand and leaned forward, eyeing his drink appreciatively. This one had to be loaded, she thought. “Not too often that a gentleman of such exquisite taste in quality libation graces our modest new establishment,” she chimed. Now, you just roll that fine amber scotch about on your sweet tongue, and I’ll go find the perfect companion for your night with us.” She considered silently which of her ladies might be most tailored to Lance’s desires…..
Lance smiled at this patron of carnal artists and consumers. Her charms were no doubt far and away the benchmark by which her "girls" were selected and retained. He could not do better than to play here!
He covered her soft hand with his, lifted his scotch to his lips, sipped a draught of it, and rolled his tongue about in his mouth, savoring it. Swallowing, he licked his lips to a moistened glisten and leaned forward, looking into his hostess's eyes. "I am sure,
Maya, that I can count on you to steer only the very best my way. She will have to be, you know .... to endure what goes on with me behind closed doors."
“Mmmm, indeed I do,” she replied, her hand humping under his, pressing up into it with a mild humidity that may have signaled interest and desire.
She checked herself, and composed her face to casual business. Dion, she was certain, would be watchfully lurking. Her husband has no qualms about giving her some reign to flirt, cajole, play with their customers. It was all part of the mercantile nature of the venture. But he was keen to pounce when the business bounds seemed stretched to him, and could be quite demanding of Maya’s full attention in those circumstances. Which, actually, was not all that bad as it usually led to a most passionate, salacious end with him.
++++++++
Dion’s dark brown eyes were half hooded in pleasure as he stood leaning back against the bar. His hips were moving ever so slightly to the beat of one of his favorite techno tracks as he watched his wife, who looked tasty enough to eat. In fact, that was precisely what he was thinking about doing – and wondering how hard Maya would have made it to get to the goods under that gown. Dion liked women best when the only thing they wore under a dress was the gloriously thick bush God gave them. While he would never, ever complain for fear of hurting her – Dion would bring the moon down from the sky if Maya asked him – he rather wished her years of modeling hadn’t prompted her to have her body hair permanently neatened up.
He pulled his gaze away from her, too aware that that train of thought had awakened an almost painful throbbing where his cock was pinned against his leg by his True Religion jeans. He’d had many different looks over his career, but tonight he was playing the part of the classy club owner. Or at least he was going to try to as soon as he stopped watching Maya long enough to go mingle.
Who the hell was that?
He had almost convinced himself to go talk to a tall blond who had walked in unescorted when Maya approached a long-haired mutt (Dion couldn’t tell if he was Mexican, South American, Eastern European, or some kind of Caucasian with a fake tan.). But it was the impetuous he needed to go mingle. If you could call it that.
Approaching the pair, he ran his hand jealously up Maya’s arm to her shoulder as he captured her other hand and lifted it above her head until he could kiss the knuckles – all the while looking at the man before him as if deciding whether or not to throw him out now or to kick is ass first.
++++++++
“Why, Dion, baby!” Maya gushed. She leaned into him, opened her fingers and offered the tips to his sweet caressing kisses. She dropped one of her hands down and onto his thigh, snaking her fingers upward to his already expanding growth, capturing it gently with her whole hand and wrapping around it, delighting in the warm pulsing inside his tented trousers.
“Lance, sweetie, please meet my husband and partner here in criminal intent, Dion,” she murmured. “This is Master Lance Pearson, love. I think he will enjoy his time with us immensely as soon as we find him a fine tease for the night. His needs are quite special. I’m sure he won’t mind repeating them for you.” She tossed her head Lance’s way and winked, then slid her hand off of Dion’s cock and let it languish on his knee. Slowly, she began to inch it back as she felt his hand slipping from her shoulder down into the back of her gown.
Lance sized things up pretty quickly. This Dion was a kind of prickly sort. Not much wonder, though: his Maya was a catch, to be sure. Lance was politic and seasoned enough to know he needed to get on this guy's good side, pronto!
Ignoring the finger painting exercise under way in Dion's crotch, Lance took a long draught of scotch, sighed contentedly and squared the glass on the table between himself and Dion, and said, "Well, Dion? May I call you Dion? Pleased to meet you, Sir. You have a fine club here, top notch! Admirable. Very!"
He leaned back in his chair and continued, "As I have told Maya, I am a Master Dominant, and I fancy subs and slaves who have the fortitude to learn my rules and needs by trial and error instead of by training. I specialize in Mastering the defiant, the sulky, the
bitchy, and the fighters.
And, that being said, it's also true that with the right female, a dom or otherwise, who is sufficient to the task, I can on occasion be engaged to switch to a sub role myself. But, it takes a most cunning, powerful, and seductive woman to accomplish that. Many have tried; few have succeeded." He paused just long enough to sit up straight and lean onto the table. "Now, I can certainly tender a most generous tribute to, uh, the house if you two could find the right lady for
me."
“I’m glad you approve,” there was a definite edge to Dion’s baritone as he looked Lance over. But at the mention that Lance was looking for a playmate, he became smug and then even smiled, his eyes sparkling just a bit. “You want a Dom who will either give you one hell of a fight as you subdue her – or prove herself worthy to be your mistress…?” he summarized, his gaze dropping to his wife’s eyes and then sliding down to her well-presented cleavage.
“We have a lady you might like.” His gaze was still on Maya. “She’s a bit uppity like she came from money, too smart for her own good, likes to play games.” Dion smiled, remembering watching Alexxie with other clients as his eyes slowly moving over to Lance. “At the very least she’ll leave you completely drained and sore. I’ve seen her toss a man twice her weight a foot in the air while on her back, fully penetrated. She just doesn’t give up.” Having no desire to be dominated, Dion’s appreciation of Alexxie’s skills was in her ability to keep fighting well beyond the point that most whores would start pretending to enjoy it. In fact, she seemed to get wetter as she fought…
He needed to not think about it or he was going to be permanently injured from the constriction in his pants. Maya’s hand was not helping either, and was at least 60% responsible for the fact that he was more than ready to sink himself into her without so much as a kiss. “Have a drink and we shall send her over to chat.” Dion intended to take Maya with him, though he suspected she’d be back at her hostess act in a very few minutes…
++++++++
They came across Alexxi standing on the stairs to the playrooms, wearing a long velvet brocade gown in blue-greys and black. Her hair was pinned up, and her black gloves extended past her elbows. She looked like she could have come from a gala night at the ballet or a political ball.
“That man needs your attention,” Dion growled, indicating Lance with a nod of his head. “Wants someone to make him beg, but doesn’t want to admit it.” So it was not a precise set of instructions. Dion was not exactly thinking with the head between his ears as the hand around his wife stroked up her waist to the side of her breast, the tease of feeling the warm soft flesh beneath the taunt fabric making him insane to cup that breast fully in his hand and squeeze.
++++++++
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Lance Pearson was impressed. Which happened infrequently.
He stood outside The Club in the warm night, admiring its simple yet elegant style. The front façade looked like the finest mirror-sheened polished marble, but was actually fashioned of huge interlocking slabs of unevenly hewn and sized copper silk granite, polished to a uniform, seamless surface. Tasteful signage two-thirds up the granite
wall and slightly off-center declared, in large beveled bronze lettering, "The CLUB."
Lance approached the entrance where an attendant of non-descript appearance opened the door for him. "Evening, Sir. Enjoy yourself," he said. Lance nodded and entered.
The welcoming foyer continued the class of the exterior. His feet sank into a deep carpet of Near Eastern flavor, primarily a rich maroon color. It appeared to run the length and breadth of The Club's insides. Matching maroon wainscoting lined the walls, and similarly
colored light sconces peppered the walls, high up, with accent illumination.
An important-looking, statuesque woman with the body and carriage of a model came from behind the welcome podium and reached for the invitation in his hand. She read it and welcomed him by name, introducing herself as Maya, authoress of the invitation.
She threw open her arms to coax a welcoming hug, and her warmth was so genuine that he rushed right into it and hugged her back. He felt quite positive about having accepted the exclusive invitation sent him by Maya to come sample The Club during its gala month-opening ice-breaker nights, and to consider taking an exclusive membership.
Maya led him into the sumptuously- appointed bar and told him to grab a drink. She would be back in a few to chat with him about his needs for the evening.
He strode, no, more swaggered, into the bar, knowing he'd draw significant attention. Tall, lean, but with the promise of abundant muscle from the drape of his clothes, his carriage and swagger always drew looks. His shoulder-length jet black hair was like a magnet for gazes and stares.
He opted for a backless bar stool and swung a lanky leg over it, mounting it like a saddle or a pair of inviting hips. His tight,pegged black custom levis with black and silver studs running down the sides ensured that he was all legs on the stool.
Lance grinned widely as he swiveled the stool and took in the room. His attention was drawn to one sight alone: back, near the far wall, a big dude with a ten-gallon hat had himself exposed to the attention of two ,,,, of two twin women, it was! The man's dong was so enormous that the legendary John Holmes would blush in his grave if he saw it.
Lance was neither gay nor bi, but could certainly feature doing the fly-on-the-wall thing to watch this dude put his slab into any mouth, twat, or ass.
He wheeled about and rested his elbows on the bar top, leaning forward. In his sleeveless black and grey mute-striped muscle top, he looked like a panther poised to strike. His bulging arm guns arced and peaked like from the perfect body sculpting ad. The gothic-
looking silver chain link choker around his throat, with dull black studs installed every third link, begged numerous questions about his interests.
"Glenfiddich Solara, if you have it," he ordered from the bar keep. "Double, neat, water back." The bartender nodded. They had the special reserve 18-year old single malt scotch whisky from the Glenfidich distillery.
Maya touched his arm, lingering on its contour, and invited him to a private booth off to the side. They moved to it an sat. She asked him what pleasures The Club might provide to him.
"Well, Maya," he began. "I am a Master. A demanding Master who savors only the most comely sub or slave. I tend to be a benevolent Master – except when my sub breaks rules, disobeys, or defies. In such instances, I will accelerate to intense punishment beyond the pleasures I am taking from her at the moment. My rules are simple and few, but, I do not reveal them. My subs must anticipate them, learn them without any assistance from me. Learning by much error permits me to suffer them trials that will prolong, but solidify, their education."
He shifted and thrust his legs straight out, leaning back in his chair. "Now, with the right female, a dom or otherwise, who is sufficient to the task, I can on occasion be engaged to switch to a sub role myself. But, it takes a most cunning, powerful, and
seductive woman to accomplish that. Many have tried; few have succeeded."
He looked at Maya with purpose. "Perhaps you, or one of your ladies, might tour me to one of your dungeons. I would like to see how they are outfitted."
Maya arched her back in her chair and tossed her head, rolling her eyes slyly around and then fixing them on his as she lowered and squared her head., Her fine ample breasts were perfect full globes stretching the her tight gown with contours that invited a hungry pair of hands, or even hungrier mouth. She reached across the table and stroked Lance’s cheek softly with the back of her hand. “Oh, I can see at least one of my girls is going to get YOUR money’s worth big time, baby-doll! Haaaaa!”
She dropped her hand and leaned forward, eyeing his drink appreciatively. This one had to be loaded, she thought. “Not too often that a gentleman of such exquisite taste in quality libation graces our modest new establishment,” she chimed. Now, you just roll that fine amber scotch about on your sweet tongue, and I’ll go find the perfect companion for your night with us.” She considered silently which of her ladies might be most tailored to Lance’s desires…..
Lance smiled at this patron of carnal artists and consumers. Her charms were no doubt far and away the benchmark by which her "girls" were selected and retained. He could not do better than to play here!
He covered her soft hand with his, lifted his scotch to his lips, sipped a draught of it, and rolled his tongue about in his mouth, savoring it. Swallowing, he licked his lips to a moistened glisten and leaned forward, looking into his hostess's eyes. "I am sure,
Maya, that I can count on you to steer only the very best my way. She will have to be, you know .... to endure what goes on with me behind closed doors."
“Mmmm, indeed I do,” she replied, her hand humping under his, pressing up into it with a mild humidity that may have signaled interest and desire.
She checked herself, and composed her face to casual business. Dion, she was certain, would be watchfully lurking. Her husband has no qualms about giving her some reign to flirt, cajole, play with their customers. It was all part of the mercantile nature of the venture. But he was keen to pounce when the business bounds seemed stretched to him, and could be quite demanding of Maya’s full attention in those circumstances. Which, actually, was not all that bad as it usually led to a most passionate, salacious end with him.
++++++++
Dion’s dark brown eyes were half hooded in pleasure as he stood leaning back against the bar. His hips were moving ever so slightly to the beat of one of his favorite techno tracks as he watched his wife, who looked tasty enough to eat. In fact, that was precisely what he was thinking about doing – and wondering how hard Maya would have made it to get to the goods under that gown. Dion liked women best when the only thing they wore under a dress was the gloriously thick bush God gave them. While he would never, ever complain for fear of hurting her – Dion would bring the moon down from the sky if Maya asked him – he rather wished her years of modeling hadn’t prompted her to have her body hair permanently neatened up.
He pulled his gaze away from her, too aware that that train of thought had awakened an almost painful throbbing where his cock was pinned against his leg by his True Religion jeans. He’d had many different looks over his career, but tonight he was playing the part of the classy club owner. Or at least he was going to try to as soon as he stopped watching Maya long enough to go mingle.
Who the hell was that?
He had almost convinced himself to go talk to a tall blond who had walked in unescorted when Maya approached a long-haired mutt (Dion couldn’t tell if he was Mexican, South American, Eastern European, or some kind of Caucasian with a fake tan.). But it was the impetuous he needed to go mingle. If you could call it that.
Approaching the pair, he ran his hand jealously up Maya’s arm to her shoulder as he captured her other hand and lifted it above her head until he could kiss the knuckles – all the while looking at the man before him as if deciding whether or not to throw him out now or to kick is ass first.
++++++++
“Why, Dion, baby!” Maya gushed. She leaned into him, opened her fingers and offered the tips to his sweet caressing kisses. She dropped one of her hands down and onto his thigh, snaking her fingers upward to his already expanding growth, capturing it gently with her whole hand and wrapping around it, delighting in the warm pulsing inside his tented trousers.
“Lance, sweetie, please meet my husband and partner here in criminal intent, Dion,” she murmured. “This is Master Lance Pearson, love. I think he will enjoy his time with us immensely as soon as we find him a fine tease for the night. His needs are quite special. I’m sure he won’t mind repeating them for you.” She tossed her head Lance’s way and winked, then slid her hand off of Dion’s cock and let it languish on his knee. Slowly, she began to inch it back as she felt his hand slipping from her shoulder down into the back of her gown.
Lance sized things up pretty quickly. This Dion was a kind of prickly sort. Not much wonder, though: his Maya was a catch, to be sure. Lance was politic and seasoned enough to know he needed to get on this guy's good side, pronto!
Ignoring the finger painting exercise under way in Dion's crotch, Lance took a long draught of scotch, sighed contentedly and squared the glass on the table between himself and Dion, and said, "Well, Dion? May I call you Dion? Pleased to meet you, Sir. You have a fine club here, top notch! Admirable. Very!"
He leaned back in his chair and continued, "As I have told Maya, I am a Master Dominant, and I fancy subs and slaves who have the fortitude to learn my rules and needs by trial and error instead of by training. I specialize in Mastering the defiant, the sulky, the
bitchy, and the fighters.
And, that being said, it's also true that with the right female, a dom or otherwise, who is sufficient to the task, I can on occasion be engaged to switch to a sub role myself. But, it takes a most cunning, powerful, and seductive woman to accomplish that. Many have tried; few have succeeded." He paused just long enough to sit up straight and lean onto the table. "Now, I can certainly tender a most generous tribute to, uh, the house if you two could find the right lady for
me."
“I’m glad you approve,” there was a definite edge to Dion’s baritone as he looked Lance over. But at the mention that Lance was looking for a playmate, he became smug and then even smiled, his eyes sparkling just a bit. “You want a Dom who will either give you one hell of a fight as you subdue her – or prove herself worthy to be your mistress…?” he summarized, his gaze dropping to his wife’s eyes and then sliding down to her well-presented cleavage.
“We have a lady you might like.” His gaze was still on Maya. “She’s a bit uppity like she came from money, too smart for her own good, likes to play games.” Dion smiled, remembering watching Alexxie with other clients as his eyes slowly moving over to Lance. “At the very least she’ll leave you completely drained and sore. I’ve seen her toss a man twice her weight a foot in the air while on her back, fully penetrated. She just doesn’t give up.” Having no desire to be dominated, Dion’s appreciation of Alexxie’s skills was in her ability to keep fighting well beyond the point that most whores would start pretending to enjoy it. In fact, she seemed to get wetter as she fought…
He needed to not think about it or he was going to be permanently injured from the constriction in his pants. Maya’s hand was not helping either, and was at least 60% responsible for the fact that he was more than ready to sink himself into her without so much as a kiss. “Have a drink and we shall send her over to chat.” Dion intended to take Maya with him, though he suspected she’d be back at her hostess act in a very few minutes…
++++++++
They came across Alexxi standing on the stairs to the playrooms, wearing a long velvet brocade gown in blue-greys and black. Her hair was pinned up, and her black gloves extended past her elbows. She looked like she could have come from a gala night at the ballet or a political ball.
“That man needs your attention,” Dion growled, indicating Lance with a nod of his head. “Wants someone to make him beg, but doesn’t want to admit it.” So it was not a precise set of instructions. Dion was not exactly thinking with the head between his ears as the hand around his wife stroked up her waist to the side of her breast, the tease of feeling the warm soft flesh beneath the taunt fabric making him insane to cup that breast fully in his hand and squeeze.
++++++++