Book Club

Author's Note:This stand-alone story is the 7th in my Book Club series about neighborhood wives and their monthly meeting. The book they discuss in these stories relates to the experiences one of the women will face.

###

Part 1

Prologue

There was a single light aimed at the table toward the right half of the large room, leaving the spectators in relative darkness. The quiet hum of the large fan barely made any difference in the evening heat of the Florida Keys. Even after sunset on this late October Monday, it was far warmer than I expected. Anyone who was almost completely naked would find the temperature quite comfortable, and some did!

The people around me looking toward that table were dressed mostly in black, ... leather, latex, and a few touristy types in cocktail dresses, shorts, or light weight slacks. The 'normal' holiday attire one might expect when attending a private party in a high-priced restaurant was mostly absent. But this was 'First Night' of Fantasy Fest, the Halloween BDSM night at this establishment about a block from Duval Street.

Watching the girl as the Dom wrapped and closed cuffs around her wrists and ankles, there was an ominous feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. She was scantily dressed in only her small black panties as he placed the blindfold to cover her eyes. The rest of her skin was exposed for the man's use, and for more than a dozen people standing around to watch. Guiding her to lay on the table, the man next attached tethers to pull her arms and legs apart, holding her helpless in a spread-eagle position.

Looking at the side table of implements along the nearby wall, I wondered how much of it she might endure before we would hear her scream. And she couldn't escape what was coming, with no one daring to try stopping it!

The grey-haired man selected a pair of long, thin sticks from his assortment on that table. Other tools there, some more menacing than others, were carefully arranged; paddles, riding crops, two different cat-o-nine tails, one with metal tips on the leather straps which sent a shiver down my spine, and others.

Soon the man had the young woman's body writhing in her restraints in ... what? Pain? Or could she be enjoying it?! ... as he tapped away with the bamboo sticks ever harder with each pass along her thighs, striking her skin and leaving slightly reddened marks. I didn't know if he might be teasing her using some light strokes, softening her up so she'd let her guard down. How much abuse would he dare inflict before he'd stop tormenting her?

I entered this room minutes earlier and she had been standing among the rest of the gawkers when he asked for a volunteer. This cute brunette eagerly stepped forward wearing the same color of guest band which I had around my own left wrist. It indicated she had signed consent forms at the door! Now I just stared in fascination, knowing that she agreed to this!

"Why would anyone allow him to do that to them?" I wondered aloud as I watched him striking her with a pair of heavier sticks, and an older woman standing next to me overheard.

"The question isn't'Why', but rather,'Why not?'" she began in her gravelly, haggard voice. "I work at a senior's nursing home with patients in their nineties and listen to their regrets for not doing everything they could when they were younger."

"But that looks painful!" I insisted, and I noticed he had placed the sticks back on the table to pick up a riding crop.

"He won't really harm her," the woman said. "He's testing her limits, pushing her and listening for her signals that she CAN take more! He'll stop when she really complains. Until then ..."

A sudden loud gasp of "Oh!" from the girl snapped my gaze back to look at the subject, and her jerking movements on the table held my attention. Her legs quivered and her toes curled as her whole body jerked at the restraints.

Her moans of pleasure told me she was having an intense orgasm!

Intro - Marcy

Timing is everything I quickly learned during my first years in college. Some people might call it mood swings or a woman's right to change her mind. A misogynist would say'she turns into a bitch when she's on the rag,'and women generally HATE such labels and crude judgements.

Whether my husband calls me moody, flighty, brat, bitch, or slut, it doesn't bother me, because he's probably right. It just depends on when he says it and the mood I'm in at the time.

I met my husband when we were both in college. He was a handsome geek, while I was just a plain, nerdy-looking girl with black horn-rim glasses, until much later when I started wearing contacts. On our first date, he told me of his after-college plans which seemed promising. So, selfish bitch that I am, I decided he was going to marry me, and I set my sights on reeling him in. I took him to my bed where he got lucky on that first date.

It was a tumultuous time after that while he learned about my mood swings. We had our differences and arguments, sometimes breaking up for two or three weeks, then getting back together, ... when I was in the mood! I knew he couldn't stay away for very long, because most girls are leery of sex on a first date.

I was always told by my parents and health teachers to be wary of sex. They tried to convince me to hate or fear it. I know they meant well, wanting to protect me from getting pregnant.'Sex is dirty and painful, something only MEN could enjoy'I heard from one of them. Where I came from, they taught girls that we shouldn't give in to those misogynistic men's base desires.'NEVER allow any man to use you for HIS pleasure!'

Those lessons didn't sink in for me, because I didn't buy into any of that bullshit. From the time I lost my virginity, most of the time I LIKED sex! It was fun, exciting, and felt oh so dirty doing something most people won't talk about. So, there were many times I wanted to feel a man inside me. If I was acting like a slut, it's because I felt like being a slut and I wanted men for MY needs. It wasn't all the time, so it's not like I was a nympho. But there were just some times when the NEED to be penetrated was there and I didn't deny myself the pleasure.

I learned that my body clock set the stage for my mood. So, once I rejected the usual girls' defenses which kept most men frustrated, I tried to plan my days and weeks around what I knew was coming, the bitch or the slut. Of course, I could employ either persona to leverage as a situation required. If I had my eye on a guy I wanted, I could pull out my slut card and take him away from anyone else. But even in my times of really needing it, during the throes of passion, if he tried anything I didn't want, this bitch would quickly tear into him!

Chapter One -- Mr Right

The guy I finally settled with, Steve, repeatedly came and went from my life over our final two years of college. He was intelligent, hard-working with a high sex drive, and I leveraged that weakness! He learned to endure my bitchiness for the rewards he'd get from me later. Like I said, he was smart!

But we had our break-ups sometimes due to work and class schedule conflicts. There were a few times when he'd be busy with a lengthy class assignment or his job consuming his time, and I'd wait as long as possible. But after a few days of WANTING it, I'd feel the irresistible urge and get antsy. I couldn't just sit still and do NOTHING about it! I didn't hide it, and I'd tell Steve about any other dates afterwards.

"I thought we were going steady!" Steve insisted the first time it happened, then I saw the question dawn on him. "Did you fuck him?" he angrily asked, knowing how HE was that lucky on our first date.

"YOU were busy and I had needs!" I angrily shot back. "It's MY body, and MY rules!"

"You SLUT!" he shouted. "I told you I had to work!"

"YOU. DON'T. OWN. ME!" I angrily pointed out, and with that he turned and stormed out.

His breaking up with me that first time did hurt. I only went on two or three more dates after the breakup. Then I ran into my former boyfriend a few weeks later. It was even during one of my down times between my bitch and slut modes.

"Are you dating anyone I know?" I asked Steve in a snarky tone, already knowing from my girlfriends which ones already turned him down for hook-ups.

"No," he said, and I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

I knew him and how horny he must have been by then, with most college girls playing hard to get. So, I sank my claws back into him by pulling out my slut card.

"Well, if you're not busy, what would you think about another date, for old times' sake?" I teased. And he quickly agreed!

I think he naively envisioned this time as a one-night stand with me, you know;'Use the slut just to get laid, then dump her.'But I knew his buttons to push and his favorite sensitive spots. And he couldn't resist!

I like men, because I always know what they want!

Steve learned that I am who I am, and I don't deny the reality;'I'm a bitch!'

When he announced that he had an offer for a good job in another state, I casually replied "It's too bad that I don't have a reason to move there."

We'd had our breakups. And during those short interims, he learned enough about how most women behaved for him to make the best decision. As I said, he's smart!

He proposed and put a ring on it. And I settled down to become his (and only his) faithful wife for more than twenty years now!

Chapter Two - Book Club

It was my turn to host the monthly Book Club. A little more than a dozen ladies assembled this Saturday morning around my dining room table, as they filled their coffee cups and picked at the selection of pastries and fruit to fill their small plates for brunch. Then once everyone was seated in the living room, I started with "I assume everyone here previously read'Fifty Shades of Grey'ten years ago. That's why I selected this book, because it was similar to that one."

"Marcy, this was nothing likeFifty Shades," Sandra quickly pronounced. "That book was just sadistic and sick! It ended with him mercilessly BEATING her!"

"You must have stopped with Book One," Allison said. "Book Two showed why he did that, and she understood, eventually saving him from himself. It was a love story!"

"I knew some of you wouldn't want to read another book like that," I said. "But I wanted to read something this time that included some light bondage and exhibitionism."

"Why would you want to read about that?" Sandra demanded, sounding judgmental and negative as usual.

"Steve reserved a room for us for a week at the end of October in Key West ...," I started.

"So, you're going on vacation to a BDSM club?" Sandra interrupted, sounding sarcastic.

"That's the week of FANTASY FEST," I pointedly continued. "It's a week-long bar-crawling street festival for risqué adult costumes leading up to Halloween. So, I felt like reading a book on exhibitionism to get in the mood."

##

Most of the women already departed, leaving Lori and Allison as the last who were helping me cleanup from the brunch. It's not much work to host this, and we rotate the meetings at our houses with any one of us only doing it no more than once per year. But having the extra hands this morning finished the work quickly.

"Whose idea was it to go to Fantasy Fest?" Lori asked as I was loading the dishwasher.

"Steve said a friend at work told him about it," I replied. "Then the more I looked into it, the more I thought of my college days. It might be nice to get away to enjoy that freedom again to go a little wild."

"But exhibitionism?" she remarked. "That seems like a male fantasy to gawk at nearly naked girls."

"Maybe," I said. "But I've never been conventional, seeing it as 'male only' to enjoy things like that. I always thought I might like to try getting onstage at a strip club, but I never really looked for the opportunity to do it."

"That would be extreme exhibitionism!" Allison said, and she hesitated before cautiously asking, "Are you and Steve, ... swingers?"

"No, we're not swingers!" I assured her. "Steve would never agree to anything like that! Maybe in our younger days I might have tried it if he wanted to. But he's a little too conservative for that."

"Could it be that you're interested in seeing other women like that, too?" Lori asked, and I wondered where THAT came from. When she mischievously smiled, I assumed she must be joking.

"Not interested," I said, and I took her question as wondering why I'd want to go there. "Anymore, sex is just for some fun with Steve, to tease and edge him. I like the sense of control it gives me over him. I think Fantasy Fest will be fun just watching him gawking at the girls, and seeing what interests him. It might give me some ideas to try later. I'd be surprised if anything there really excites me that way."

"Well, when you get back," Allison said, "let's get together so you can tell us what it's really like and whether it's worth the trip. Maybe I'll talk Eric into it for next year."

Chapter Three -- Routines

I tease my husband, sometimes prodding him in ways I know will get him hard.

With dinner finished that evening, we put on a porn video in the living room and fucked on a blanket on the living room floor. Steve did me from behind, as I masturbated while watching the couple having sex on the laptop in front of me. But I wasn't getting there.

After he came inside me, I rolled over and used some tissues to clean the mess.

"I need a toy," I said, something I now seem to need every time to get off during sex.

It had been YEARS since I last orgasmed with just his cock in me. As we grew older together, I found that I need more stimulation. Penetration edges me, but I resort to using a variety of toys to help. And my loving husband is always trying to find new and different ones for me.

###

Part 2

Chapter Four -- The Trip

Arriving at the hotel near Sunset Pier in Key West late Sunday evening, we settled in to unpack and discussed our plans for the week.

"I have tutus for both of us to wear for'Tutu Tuesday'afternoon," I said.

"Men don't wear tutus!" he insisted.

"YOU wanted to come here, and it's a tradition for everyone on Tuesday," I angrily replied. "If you're not wearing a tutu, even a man, you'll look like a tourist from one of the cruise ships. And I'm not bar-crawling with a tourist!"

"Fine!" he relented. "What about the Pirate Night and Red Night?"

"I have the pirate costumes we wore for the neighborhood Halloween party last year," I said. "For Red Night, you'll wear the demon costume you planned. But I decided to try just my short red nightie and red panties."

"Out in public? That's rather daring," Steve said, sounding a little interested. "It's almost see-through."

"I bought a package of pasties," I admitted, "and I'll wear a pair of those under it, just in case. But from the pictures I've seen from past Fantasy Fests, I'm sure it won't be the most provocative."

"I bought tickets for a private party tomorrow evening called "First Night," Steve said. "It's at a restaurant off of Duval Street. They close the restaurant for a BDSM themed private party. A friend of mine suggested it, and they want everybody to dress the part."

"What's the party supposed to be like?" I asked.

"The tickets are for three hours of an open bar," he explained, "and they have BDSM demos in different parts of the restaurant. We can just watch, or we can sign release forms to participate. So, I'm thinking we should sign the forms, just in case we feel like trying something."

"I'll think about it," I relented.

Chapter Five -- First Night

It was still light outside, nearing sundown on Monday evening when we arrived at the restaurant. The party atmosphere along the way was just beginning to build, with some of the daytime tourists still hanging around and only a handful of people dressed in any costumes. The ones we did see dressed up looked like they were heading to the same destination for the party, or some similar BDSM event elsewhere.

From the outside, the building looked like many of the other larger houses in Key West. They are the type which have plenty of rooms, and a large porch with garden in the back surrounded with privacy fences.

I was dressed in a very short black cocktail dress, with a very deep plunging neckline between my ample boobs. The front of the dress was open not just to my cleavage but exposing all skin from my neck to naval. I was discreetly wearing pasties on my nipples in case of a "nip slip" and not wanting to be illegal when walking in public. But I didn't wear panties, planning to tease my husband's imagination. I thought I'd tell Steve of my lack of underwear later, enticing him to finger me discreetly in a more public setting.

In keeping with the BDSM theme, Steve had purchased enough Velcro-closed cuffs which we both wore on our wrists and ankles. He was to be my "pet" for the evening, wearing just sandals, short tight briefs allowing all to see his member bulging in front, and a collar around his neck with me holding his leash.

Not yet familiar with what was considered 'normal' for Fantasy Fest, when walking from our hotel along Duval Street, he wore more to cover up using running shorts and a t-shirt. But he took those thin covers off and put them in a small string backpack which my pet then wore on his back after we arrived in front of this restaurant.

Stopping inside the front doors for the First Flight event, we checked in with the Matre'd station and were asked if we wanted to sign the consent forms.

"If you sign the form," the girl at the podium said, "there's no obligation to participate. You'll be given a green wristband, which is needed if you want to do anything. Otherwise, you'll have a yellow wrist band which only allows you to get drinks at the open bar and watch everything else."

I agreed to keep our options open, so we signed the forms and proceeded into the venue.

The restaurant had removed their usual tables, since no one was here for a sit-down dinner this evening. The only thing remaining was a large bar around a portion of the main floor which opened in the back of the house onto the porch. When standing at the bar and waiting for our drinks, I could see dozens of people milling about in the large garden. That's when I noticed the display on the far side of the greenery.

A man wearing only short black skivvies had his wrists and ankles bound to the ends of a large wooden Saint Andrews cross with attach points at each end of the X. A woman was standing to the side and flogging his back with a heavy strap! They both wore green wristbands like the ones my husband and I now had. His body flinched with every strike of the strap, and she was apparently heaving the strap hard enough to leave some red marks on his back!

Looking back into the house at a large room near the front doors, I saw what appeared to be a buff looking man wrapping ropes around a woman, designing an elaborate harness.

Taking our drinks, we then pressed our way through the growing crowd, going from room to room to see what else we might find.

Most attendees were in some sort of themed attire. Some put minimal effort into it, with a woman wearing just a black dress and choker, accessorized with a black mask. Or a husband might be holding a pair of plastic costume handcuffs.

But there were many into the BDSM theme, wearing biker-style black vests, women wearing black leather harnesses and black fishnet stockings. One woman who apparently didn't think ahead was dressed in a full-body, skin-tight latex'Catwoman'outfit! Just looking at her made me sweat in the south Florida heat.