Chapter 8
I'll never forget staring at my naked Diane, shackled by irons to the walls, bound by the clamps that pierced her nipples.
I'll never forget the thrill of seeing this woman who had caused me so much agony—so much degradation—so much pain—bound helpless.
And I'll never forget knowing that there was no guilt, no shame.
For, she was enjoying every tear-stained moment of her brutal ordeal.
You could tell by the- rivulets of goo that were running down the insides of her legs from her hot pussy.
Yes, the smell of juicy cunt was in the air.
And Diane was the only woman in the room.
Until the rest of the club membership arrived.
They came in twos and threes, they came alone.
From all corners of the Hideaway of this mysterious ex-criminal called Hume.
Heather, complete with her punked-out attire and her sexy ass.
Cucumber, complete with her naked tits. I guess she Went around barechested everywhere.
I asked her.
"Well, one of the reasons I hang out at Hume's is because I can go around with my breasts exposed. I mean, what good is life if you can't parade around in naked tits?"
I had to admit I could see her point.
Rather, her points.
The black guy and his two black chicks came.
So did that little fag who ran the restroom.
Some of them sat on the floor.
Some of them stood near to the back.
But before long the private dungeon was filled, as an intimate nightspot, with everybody who longed to participate in the glorious abuse of the naked female.
MY naked female.
It was an incredible feeling. Every cock must have been erect that night—every pussy wet.
People were in the back, getting horny and around and stripping off all their clothes.
Some people started fucking in the back.
But me?
I was going to save myself for Diane.
"You know what this bitch did?" I announced as an orator of S-and-M to the assembled crowd.
Their stares of rapt attention flattered my ego.
"She lied to me!"
Ooohs and booos went through the room.
"Spit on her!"
"Rape her!"
"Shit on her!" one person yelled.
I calmed them down.
"We're going to take turns. It's going to be an all-night gang bang of sexual ecstasy ... and no one is going to enjoy it more than our friend Diane."
Let me describe to you the episodes from that all-nighter that I remember best.
There was one chick whose name I never got—: but she was one of the black women who danced in the nightclub portion of the place.
One of the chicks that I had seen that night the week before with Diane.
She strode up to the white, almost pate form of Diane.
The black chick made a fist.
She held it up in front of her, reminding me of the black power symbol of a generation past.
She never unclenched her fingers.
She made Diane spread her legs wide.
She rammed her fist inside Diane's cunt.
I could only imagine how that might feet.
TO have one's being cleaved like that.
I imagined that Diane's pussy expanded and contracted, humping the woman's fist.
I could see the fist go in and out.
In and out.
.In.
And then, out.
Over and over.
Pretty soon, the woman's fist was dripping wet, and cunt juice was dribbling down her forearm.
She rammed her fist in again, and then more and more of her forearm as she fisted Diane's twat deeper and deeper.
I watched the grimace of pain spread across Diane's sweet and vulnerable face.
I listened for the moans and groans that escaped her mouth as the black woman reamed deeper and deeper.
"Oh—God—no! Please ... stop," Diane tried to say intelligibly. But all that came out of her mouth was the gross squeak and squeal of a woman whose flesh is being rent.
Ripped.
Abused.
The black chick eventually pulled her fist out from Diane's cunt.
"Lick it, bitch," the black woman said, holding her forearm up to Diane's mouth.
Like a brown ear of corn, Diane was forced to suck the sides of her extended forearm.
The black woman was not gentle.
Oh, no.
She rammed her arm against Diane's face.
Diane's mouth was pushed open and her tongue forced to lick her own pussy juices off the black woman's arm.
Right in front of all these people.
These people who were getting off sexually on her abuse.
The black woman stuck her fist in Diane's mouth.
I watched in horny fascination as Diane licked her cunt juices hungrily off of every square inch of the black woman's hand.
The black woman had to spread her fingers.
Diane licked the strands that stuck in between the fingers.
She was probably so hungry from all he pot she'd smoked that this was a welcome meal, as well as a form of sexual degradation that she would never allow herself to pass up.
Ah, yes.
It was so sweet, so wonderful.
I saw a couple of guys starting to jerk off right then and there, as they watched her.
Funny thing happened, too.
I heard somebody say to one of those guys—I forget whether it was a man or a woman who spoke— "Hey, if you're going to want to get off to this, why don't you let me suck your cock?"
"No thanks," the guy replied. "I really love to bring myself off in front of scenes of degradation."
It was quite a scene, too, watching the man's thick hard-on rise and get trapped inside his palm, watching him rub his dick, making it fill with erectile blood.
And then I remember when Diane had finished licking the woman the guy let himself shoot.
Blurts of hot white cum spat upon the back of someone sitting in front of him.
A naked woman in fact, who was sitting at his feet.
I watched his cum roll down her shoulder, down the inside slope of this girl's naked tit.
I remember watching the woman as she scooped up the dribble of his jism from her nipple.
Yes, how that little droplet clung to her pink pearl of nipple head.
And she took it in her mouth and savored the taste.
My own cock was rigid, of course—hard and painfully restrained inside that leather jock strap I was wearing.
By this point, Diane's nipples were starting to let loose small scarlet trickles of blood where the clamps had bit their sadistic way into her flesh.
I loved watching her writhe.
The bitch.
She was lower than the lowest of street scum.
I wanted to watch her gush blood in buckets, so filled with excitement of sexual hatred was I.
I swore to god that I would let her feel the most furious pain I could imagine.
When another one of our number stepped up toward her.
Heather.
With a spiked; metal vibrating dildo.
A hot dildo of death.
Literally hot.
She must have had it sitting in n oven or some shit.
In any case, she brought the metal spiked dildo over to Diane and posed with it in front of the assembled throng.
"Ram it in!"
"Fuck her with it!"
"Make her cum!"
"Make her bleed!"
"Make her suffer!"
Heather was a good showman.
She turned the thing on, and we all hushed.
We could hear the vibrating hummmmmmm ... !
And then a titter of laughter ran through the crowd.
Heather brought the vibrating machine up to her own cleavage, and pantomimed a hot, shaking orgasm for us.
"Oooh," Heather said offhand, "That DOES feel nice."
Heather then peeled off her top and vibrated the thing against her own tits.
And then she placed it between Diane's legs.
And then she turned the speed up to the next one.
The tone of the hum was a little louder now.
Heather placed the dildo against Diane's clit.
We all heard Diane scream.
We all watched her beg for more.
And then, when Heather rammed the machine inside Diane's aching pussy, we all applauded.
I'll never forget watching those metal spikes go in, one by one, folding underneath the resistance of Diane's pussy lips.
I'll never forget watching the couple in the back who were naked and greased and nicking each other.
Watching that red meaty penis slide in and out of that chick's cunt.
Or watching the metal spiked penis slide all the way inside Diane.
There was something about the sheer decadence of it all that made me want to scream with delight.
It wasn't even my turn to humiliate Diane yet!
But more and more the power grew within me.
Within my breast.
I was consumed by the sheer savagery of the total sexual experience.
And, as person after person humiliated and abused Diane's poor tortured naked body, until she was bleeding and cumming at the same time, I knew that this would be the most gratifying and at the same time the most cosmically scary sex romp I would ever be on.
At last it was my turn.
I unzipped my leather jock and displayed my big hard cock to everyone who wanted to see.
I strode across the front row of seated people.
They reached up, many of them, to touch my penis as I walked by—like when a rock star parades in front of an audience or a politician goes out handshaking.
I loved the feel of anonymous people's fingers against my cock and balls.
I loved displaying the fact that I was being sexually admired and worshipped while Diane was being punished and abused and degraded and humiliated.
For, I had earned my new respect.
I had suffered the abuses of a charged chick like Diane.
I recounted the many insults to my manhood and libido that I had to bear while I had been pursuing this woman.
This compelling woman.
This compelling sex-demoness of savage hardonity.
The lies.
The time she called to have some one jerk me out of the bathroom where I was whacking off my dick to the memory of her sexy voice.
The times she just up and left after deeply intimate sex.
The teasing of my cock. My cock.
My naked member that even now was becoming an icon of debauchery to the assembled throng.
I recounted these abuses out loud for the gathering, and they applauded and jeered in the appropriate places.
My little monologue was so stimulating that several people started getting off on my voice. I forced Diane to her knees, I held her pretty face in my hands. I shoved her face into my balls. Then I turned around and grabbed her head by the back of her hair.
I shoved her face into my ass.
"Lick me!" I screamed.
I felt her tongue start to lick out my ass hole.
I felt the snaking, wet member dart from her mouth and feel up the short hairs that covered the crack between my buttocks.
The sensation of her tongue upon those tender tissues was unbelievable.
Droplets of pre-cum formed at the slit of my prick.
For minutes on end, my cock pointed out toward the crowd while Diane rammed her tongue deep, deep into the crack of my ass.
I heard her sputter and spit occasionally.
God knows what she was spitting out from between her teeth.
Then long, broad licks of her tongue up the crevice and down.
It made me want to ram my pecker inside of her.
Then she nuzzled my root—the underbelly of my genitals.
That area between my ass and my balls, The sweaty, filthy flesh that her quiet licks made tingle with horny energy.
She sucked my balls and bit them and spit them out.
The crowd went wild.
Some of them even started to imitate what we were doing, naked as they were, and began to eat each other's anus holes.
"You stinking cunt!"
I wheeled around to face her.
She was as scum at my feet.
My cock quivered in mid air.
It was bright red, almost purple.
And thick and hard and wet.
I kicked her in the face with my foot.
It felt great.
For both of us.
And then, the finale.
I had to save it for the last.
She knelt in front of all of us.
My cock was aimed straight at her throat.
Golden shower.
I felt the warm piss shoot out my pecker and stream right into her face.
It hit her in a jet spray.
It splashed and splattered to and fro—the steam heat of the rich golden yellow piss stream spraying a mist of sweet acid all about.
Like a halo, I suppose.
I watched her throw her head back and revel in the acid stink of my piss.
I watched the rivers of piss cascade down her neck, down her shoulders.
Down her tits.
Down her naked tit cleavage.
It was glorious.
My hard on provided just the right angle, too.
Her hair was matter with the yellow urine.
And then, before the force of the stream could die down, I blasted her right at her mouth.
"Oh, yes, yes," she moaned and groaned between sobs.
Yes, sobs.
Of joy? Yes.
Of pain? Sure.
She fell to my feet, the clamps still stuck in her nipples, as if nothing mattered anymore.
She grasped at my ankles while the jet stream of my piss fell into an arc and splashed all over her lips.
She seemed, in her fatigued and exhausted state, to try and drink it, making her lips reach up toward the sky with whatever strength she had left.
And then I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her with my dick inside her pussy and her mouth and her ass until I came.
White gobs of cum in her cunt.
And on her face.
Her putrid, piss-soaked, beautiful face.
Well, obviously the night, wonderful and bizarre as it was, did not last forever.
I remember a shower and a final cup of coffee.
It was light out when Andrew Cole, or Hume, or whatever you want to call him, stood with me at the front door to the club.
His arm was around my shoulder.
"So you promise you'll see Diane gets home safely?" I asked Hume.
"Well, she's stayed the night before. I assume she'll be kind of out of it for a while. But we'll clean her up and get her back 'on the street,' so to speak."
"In my line of work, Hume, that's not a particularly funny expression."
"Nor in my line of work, Mark," Hume said to me.
"Good night, fella, or good morning," I said, and shook his hand and left the club for the last time.
I got a taxi and headed home to begin writing— writing down everything I could remember of the whole experience.
I made careful notes of all my recollections.
And what I have presented to you is the truth as I best remember it.
I never made any effort to have Andrew Cole arrested or have his place investigated, of course— and I'm sure it is not necessary to explain why.
So, as far as I know, the Hideaway of Hume is still there, catering to the discriminating adults in all forms of exotic pleasures.
Oh, yes.
There is one final loose end I wish to wrap up.
You're probably wondering what happened to Diane.
I got a call at my house Saturday morning.
"Hi."
I recognized her voice.
"Hi, Diane. What's up?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Uh ... I want to see you. May I come over?"
As much as I wanted to see her, the thought of her coming over only filled me with apprehension.
One affair like the one we had is enough for one lifetime—and I knew if she came over I would only winding being seduced into tying her up again.
Or maybe she wouldn't have to seduce me.
"Why don't you meet me somewhere?"
"Hume's?"
"No. Someplace neutral. It's a nice day. Battery Park." I mentioned an address.
It was about noon when we met.
She looked great of course, but tired.
Some of the blush had gone out of her cheeks.
Still, though, I could not resist kissing her when I saw her standing there framed against the trees and hot-dog stands.
She put an arm around me.
"I want you to know," Diane said, "that our last week, well, it did a lot for me."
"Yeah, I guess it did a lot for me, too."
"No, Mark. I'm serious. There were a lot of dark demons that were lurking inside me, since I was a little girl. I think having that unbelievable S-and-M experience ... well, it worked a lot out of my system."
I sighed.
I spoke.
"Me too. I suppose I worked out a lot of my hatreds of myself, of women, of gay men. It was kind of a purging."
She looked at me with honest eyes.
"Yes."
There was a long pause when neither of us spoke.
We sat down on a park bench, looking out at the Harbor, thinking our own thoughts.
We wound up having lunch together at a nearby bar and grill—nothing fancy.
Just a couple of burgers and a couple of beers.
We had some laughs.
We strolled out of the restaurant, and walked down the length of the park.
"Mark?"
"Yes?"
"I don't think I could have had that experience with any other man."
"Hah! Right, I've heard that before."
Just like she had told me she had never been to the sex club before.
"No, I mean it. There was something about you I liked from the first. Something I trusted and felt warm and comfortable with.
"I know this sounds like a lot of bullshit, Mark, but I suppose I needed a man like you to help me work the sadism, the masochism out of me. I don't know what it was about you.
"I suppose I didn't mind lying to you about never being to the club before—because I knew it would all work out for the better.
"Sure I had been there before—but never for anything good. I always thought that the club would be really great with the right man.
"Well, you came along and gave me more than I bargained for—but everything that I needed."
There was another pause, and then Diane snuggled against me.
"I love you, Mark. Marry me. I'll make you very happy."
You know, I didn't say anything for about five minutes.
And then I came to speak.
"I don't know, Diane. You're quite a woman, and I don't doubt that you love me.
"But a lot of what I saw myself doing this past week weirds me out, still. Oh, I know. It was the most fantastic sexual experience of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
"But there's going to come a time when I might want to do it all again. I don't know. Just thinking about tying you up or listening to you talk dirty to me ... "
I shook my head, trying to frame my thoughts.
"Sorry, girl. It was great. But my sexual destiny lies elsewhere ... maybe with you again some day, some other city. Maybe with some other woman.
"Maybe in the mental ward of the local psychiatric hospital."
My little joke wasn't funny.
She was taken aback, a little, but the look of resignation that crossed her face made me realize that she was mature enough to take this news.
I wasn't worried about her, in other words.
Diane would survive.
Women like Diane always do.
She whistled for a cab.
She got in.
"Drop you off uptown?"
"Fine," I said, and got in.
She told the driver to go to a certain address.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Hume's sex club.
"Jesus," I said, and laughed.
Diane got out of the cab first.
"One last one, for old time's sake?"
"Yeah. Let's have a drink and fuck."
"No heavy stuff?"
"Well ... ya never know!"
Diane and I still see each other about three or four times a year.
She and I and the guy she's now married to are frequent customers at Hume's.