Here We Go:
It was never more than a hint of a rumor. A myth. A dream. A fantasy. Surely it had to be made up. Sodom. One of those places that couldn’t exist for real, not in this world – and yet the name was mentioned just infrequently enough to make you wonder. Could the club possibly be a reality? No one had ever been themselves, of course, but instead knew someone who knew someone, who’d heard of someone who …So the source was never traceable, was likely completely false. And yet.There was always the barest hint of possibilities. Could it possibly be all that ‘they’ said? And if so, how could you find it? And how did you get invited?
* * * * *
There’s nothing quite like being in the middle of the action, and yet apart from it. Kneeling in the slightly-too-small cage, her buttocks pressed hard up against the bars behind her and her face tight against the ones before her, Violet’s vision was filled with action aplenty. For the moment, all she had to do was watch – and she gloried in it.
There was a long tawny sofa ahead on her left, with two people fully entwined upon it. She could see the tangle of arms, of legs, of tongues. The shifting of muscles as one cock slid slowly and deeply into the open pucker of the others ass. Above and below were relative, as they shifted and slipped and rolled on the couch. Gender was unknowable and untellable – without her glasses she didn’t know, and didn’t care either – and whether the cock was bio or strapped, the bodies furred or smooth, the chests breasted or flat or in between was all irrelevant.
It was all about the ass. For her, for them, for everyone else. This was Sodom, after all.
Next to the tawny sofa was a big plump chair, with a big plump body sprawled across it on hands and knees, their face buried in the folds of the fabric. A slimmer partner had both arms elbow-deep within that plump bottom, the slurpy slick sounds of fisting, the moaning cries of orgasm, and the pattering landing of juices all making their way to her ears.
Trotting across the room from her right was a pony in full rubber gear, head held high and bit in mouth, trainer carrying the lead. She’d seen them passing before as she had been on her way to the cage. Everyone had been most admiring, naturally, of the large glossy tail that hung to the pony’s knees and swung as it pranced. And she, along with everyone else, had seen that the tail was attached to a large silicone butt-plug, which was then harnessed in place along with the rest of the pony’s gear.
Looking at the pony’s swinging tail and mane reminded Violet of her own bottom, and she clenched her buttocks. She felt the cold metal of the bars against her flesh – and also the cold metal deep in her ass. Her owner had placed it there, deep and slow and inexorable, before locking her in the cage and promising her that she would get plenty of attention later, once she’d given plenty of attention to the rest of the floor first.
What else was going on that she could see?
Also on her right was a small woman with her hair in plaits(she thought it was probably a woman)kneeling near the cage, her cat’s tongue flicking and licking and teasing the pale pink bud of a squirming young man(she thought it was a man)‘s anus, as the young man in turn attempted to focus his own tongue’s attention on an older gentleman’s furry hole.
The older gentleman, wearing a rakish bowler hat and seeming quite dressed despite being otherwise nude, was using his mouth for something different – slowly and lasciviously running his tongue around a sinuously shaped glass toy, occasionally pausing to drip his saliva into it. He was holding eye contact with a woman who was wearing red knee-high boots and red nipple-tassels.
There were people everywhere, and in trying to focus on everything, she found she lost focus entirely. But she knew she wasn’t allowed to close her eyes. She had been told to pay attention. And that paying attention to only her own reactions was not what her owner meant!
Ah, someone else was passing. No, not passing. They stopped by the cage.
“Are you enjoying yourself in there?” enquired an amused voice, just behind her shoulder. She tried to turn her head to see, but there wasn’t enough room for her to look behind her. The cage was deliberately too small for movement.
“Yes, thank you,” Violet answered politely. She knew better than to be rude to strangers.
“There’s so much to see, and I’m having just a lovely time watching it all.”
“For your first time, you’re doing very well. Many people are just overwhelmed by the sheer scale by this point.”
“How did you know it was my first time? There are so many people …” She was a tad perplexed at how the stranger had known she was new.
“Because it’s my club, of course. One should know such things, if one is going to run a place like Sodom.” There was a firm polite(how did it manage to be polite?)smack on her left ass cheek, one which she thought had a gloved feel to it, and the amused voice moved away back through the room behind her, saying “We will meet again, Violet …”
And they know my name …Lost in thought, she closed her eyes momentarily. Only to be brought up short as her owner – always adept at catching her by surprise – grabbed her chin through the bars.
“So, my pet. Care to tell me what you managed to see with your eyes closed?”
Oh shit, she thought. Here we go.
Enter the Fist:
Oh, Sodom was real. But you needed to know the right people. Not the ‘popular’ people, or the ‘in’ crowd – that wasn’t the way to this back entrance, for they had no idea this place was anything more than a legend(not that it stopped them dropping the name). To get an invitation to Sodom required a very different journey indeed …
* * * * *
It began, for Ayn, with a date. Not that she knew at the time that this date would be the one that would change her life, of course. You always hope that there’ll be a spark, or something exciting, but who knew that meeting Ruth in that everyday, sun shiney cafe would be the thing that started it all?
She was early, as she always was, enjoying the roominess of the booth and the chilliness of the iced coffee, trying to guess which person walking in would go with the voice she’d heard over her phone. Was she crazy to meet like this? Perhaps. But internet dating was nothing strange these days, and it was certainly easier when one was … well, different.
Still, she was startled when the slim woman stopped next to her table, smiling. Surely this tiny beauty couldn’t be there to meet her? But she was holding her hand out and introducing herself, and sliding in opposite her, and the voice was the same. She was there for her.
From such small starts.
* * * * *
One date lead to another. And from those dates came sex. First, at Ayn’s request, with deep-dimmed lights and sheets covering her flesh. But with Ruth’s caresses and touches and kisses and adoration – her love for all Ayn’s skin – eventually the sheets slid aside, the lights came up. Ayn explored Ruth’s body, and then, wonderingly, her own. Orgasms, quietly and then more and more loudly, followed on.
And then. And then! Then there was fisting. The first time Ruth’s thumb followed fingers into Ayn’s cunt, lubricated wrist nestled deep in her curls, all she could do was open her mouth and tighten her hands in the sheets – all words had fled. As the fingers inside her flexed and minutely trembled, she writhed, hooked on the ecstasy.
Returning the sensations, gently working her own much larger digits into Ruth’s delicate cunt, seeing her petals open and her flower bloom as lubricant flowed and fingers slid, was joyous as well. Could you orgasm from the nerves in your finger-tips, she wondered?
* * * * *
Ruth and Ayn never wanted to stop fisting. They adored it. They read Hand in the Bush and tried different positions. They joined fisting groups online, took photos of themselves fisting, shared videos of their fisting with queer friends they’d made. While they still did other things sexually, they both agreed that cunt fisting was the apex of sexual pleasure. The hours, the intimacy, the connection, the oceans of orgasms.
And then someone mentioned anal fisting. Had they tried it?
Ayn’s initial reaction was disgust. How horrid! But she recalled that she had thought of her own, entire body that way, once upon a time. Fat and hideous. Hide it from the light. Unloveable.
She’d never played with her bottom – neither of them had. It was new territory. But they were curious now. So they did their research, read up about ‘hand-balling’. They experimented, tentatively, with lubricant and single digits in the anus. Ayn discovered that a small plug in her ass added to the fisting intensity in her cunt. Ruth wanted to try the same thing. Pleasure – with some small disasters along the way, which they were able to laugh about, thankfully – bloomed as they explored this new area and these new sensations together.
* * * * *
Now anal fisting is a part of their repertoire. Their adoration. Their fucking. Ruth loves reducing Ayn to utter helplessness, a mess of sensation and fullness and orgasms. Loves filling her up with two hands – one in cunt and one in ass. Loves working both deep into her ass, then moving them in and out. Loves fisting her ass with one hand and spanking her with the other. There are so many choices.
Ayn, for her part, loves returning the pleasure. Loves loving Ruth. But loves her the most for changing her life.
She thinks of that, when she can think at all, as she lies sprawled across a plump chair on hands and knees, her face buried in the folds of the fabric. Both of Ayn’s arms are elbow-deep in her ass, slurpy and slick.
She thinks of it, and then Ayn flexes both hands at once and she comes hard, cries her orgasm, cunt juices pattering onto Sodom’s floor.
People probably heard. People undoubtedly watched. As it should be – let them all see how glorious an act is fisting.
* * * * *
Invitation Only:
* * * * *
Violet had first heard the vague rumors of Sodom over a decade earlier. She’d been making her first tentative forays into kink, and when a munch discussion turned to whether or not such a place really existed, she had assumed it must be a myth. A club dedicated to the pleasures of the ass, open to all genders, sexualities and fetishes? Surely such a place would either be well-known, or not exist at all!
She’d certainly been proven wrong there. For Sodom did exist – but was rather discerning about who came through its doors. Or who knew where to find its doors in the first place.
A little over two years ago she’d met Linus at a friend’s dinner party. It was a non-kink affair full of non-kink people, and yet somehow the glint in his eye matched the spark in her own. They’d spent the evening making polite conversation across the table, followed by double-entre’d conversation on the sofa, flirtatious conversation on the veranda, ending with a long-held glance along with a swapping of phone numbers.
Less than three weeks later Violet was calling him Sir, and he was calling her pet. She’d thought that she was a fairly well experienced kinkster, but Linus brought up her inner cravings, opened her to so many more desires and wants and needs she’d never known she had before.
Together with him she discovered not only her adoration of rope(as beautification as well as bondage), but also the intensity of electricity play, the pleasure/pain dichotomy, the delicious hazy daze of orgasm denial … and the glory of anal play.
How had she never explored her own ass before? Thirty years of living with one, and never had she slipped a finger in when cleaning herself. Never had she thought about lubing up a finger, or playing with a vibrator, or feeling the sensations when she clenched and relaxed. And how much had she been missing out? Her Sir had shown her all the joys, and given her the delights of exploring for herself as well. For herself and for him, she discovered how it felt when she teased herself with fingertips. She wore small crystal plugs around the house. She was able to pull out, slowly, the beads up her ass, when he gave her permission to orgasm.
And then, finally, eventually, her owner used his own fingers on her. Gentle fingers. Probing fingers. Teasing fingers. Fingers putting plugs and vibrators up her ass and leaving them there while he plundered her cunt. Other times, putting dildos up her cunt and then teasing her ass with fingers. Eventually, on an evening when he’d firmly tied her to the headboard, he put fingers from one hand in her cunt and had them meet fingers from the other in her ass. How that made her squirm!
Two weeks ago, after three months of Violet begging every single day for it, he had finally fucked her ass. He laughed as he did so, saying he would have taken her anal cherry earlier, but she begged so prettily he hadn’t wanted her to stop. Linus laughed as his cock slid so very easily into her ass, as she whimpered and squirmed and pressed onto him in pleasure, her back bowed and her breasts mashed into the bed. He laughed as she laughed, as she loved it as much as she did, as she tensed and clenched around him.
The next day he gave her an heavy vellum envelope. ‘Violet’ was embossed on the outside. And inside it, to her disbelief, was an invitation to place she hadn’t thought existed.
* * * * *
It’s A Date:
It didn’t look like much from the outside – places like Sodom usually didn’t. But once you had entered, it was a different world. The club had two floors, and within that space it encompassed wide shared areas for play and voyeurism and smaller rooms for more intimate play. There was also space for suspension, areas for tie-downs, take-downs, soft floors for orgies, sofas for time out – and, of course, areas where you could sit and relax. But nothing was particularly particular.The only hard and fast rule was a limit on drinking: two maximum per night. Where was the fun in an ass plundering if you couldn’t remember it in the morning?
* * * * *
They came to Sodom every week, although not necessarily together. Sometimes Otto would arrive up to an hour before Saul, and so he’d get himself a drink, sit back on the long tawny sofa – if it was free – and enjoy the view of the wide main floor. He always did like to watch the action – that’s what’d gotten him noticed in the first place.
Six months earlier he’d been sitting, legs sprawled, on the plump chair near the cage. He was relaxed and temperate, wearing nothing but his underwear, watching the crowd ebb and flow, idly stroking his cock through his jockeys and enjoying the press of the silicone plug in his ass.
It wasn’t a particularly large one, but enough to warm him up, and he was hoping to find someone who appealed. Someone who’d replace that plug with tongue, and maybe something larger. He really did want something larger.
Thinking of things in his ass got his muscles clenching, and his hand stroking a little faster. Which was when he spotted him. The guy with the low-slung jeans and the tattooed chest. The low-slung jeans with the heavily-hanging crotch.
Whom obviously had something larger to offer. And who was eye-fucking Otto like his life depended on it. Otto, very slowly, licked his lips. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid it from bottom to top. And then he waited to see what the stranger would do.
The stranger crossed the floor, maintaining the eye-contact all the way. He stepped around the occupied cage and past the sofa to stand over Otto. Then he lent down and pressed his mouth to Otto’s ear. ”I’m Saul. My ass needs licking. I think yours might too. What do you say?”
Otto’s mouth suddenly was flooded with saliva, and he nodded his head, turning to respond. “I’m Otto. And I’d say it’s a date.”
* * * * *
They stood and moved to a smaller room, pulling the door closed to signal a desire for non-interruption. Like most Sodom regulars, Otto was well aware that anal with anyone for the first time needed some quiet, some conversation, and some privacy to make it happen, and happen hot. The room came with standard equipment – a large bed, towels, condoms and dams(both latex and latex-free), and a choice of water and silicone-based lubricants. Not to mention a very large mirror.
Almost as soon as the door closed, Otto’s mouth was on Saul’s, and they were kissing, tongues rolling and sliding. There were hands groping, and Otto could feel one of Saul’s hands pressing gently at the flare of his plug. Saul broke off the kiss long enough to murmur at Otto, “I see you come prepared.”
Otto’s only response was to slide to his knees and begin to unbuckle Saul’s jeans. But a hand on his stilled him. ”I should let you know…” Saul said.
“Know what?” Otto asked. All he wanted was to get a look at that cock, feel that heft.
“Well… here. Let me show you.” Saul stepped back from Otto, and began to undo his jeans himself, turning it into a strip-tease.
The button popped open while his ass swung enticingly. A tilt of his hips and then he turned around entirely and wriggled his ass. The sound of his zip was loud in the room as it came undone, and then denim slid free of his hips. Saul was also wearing jockeys, but there was something a little different about them. Otto couldn’t quite tell what.
Saul turned around to face Otto again, his jeans slipping to his ankles. He slid one hand into his pants, palming his cock. His heavy cock. Otto was mesmerized, watching. He wanted it. All of it. He could feel the throb of his lips, his crotch, his ass, at the thought of it.
And then Saul slipped his jockeys down. Exposed the cock he was fondling. Showed the heavy flesh he was sliding in and out of his hand. Showed that it was silicone, and strapped to his body.
“This,” said Saul. “You need to know this. I want to tongue your ass, and I want to fuck you with my cock. And this is my cock. Are you okay with that?”
* * * * *
If Otto hadn’t been so ready to fuck that he was about ready to cream his jockeys, it might have been an issue. If Saul had been less open about his cock, and himself, if might have been an issue. If, as Otto admitted to himself later, Saul had been less of his type, it might have been an issue. And if Saul hadn’t been such an amazing kisser, strip-teaser, all-around eye-fuckingly hot guy? It might have been an issue.
But it wasn’t. Otto had shaken his head, shrugged, said “That’s all right by me,” and they’d gotten on with the tongues, and the asses, and the cocks, and the fucking.
That’ is something larger’ of Saul’s had been a revelation – as Saul himself had been. What had started as a hot guy on guy pickup at Sodom had turned into a regular date, and now each week they took their pleasure in each other.
This week they occupied the long tawny sofa, and were fully entwined upon it. They both enjoyed playing out in the main area, losing themselves in each other, knowing they were watched, then taking a break to watch the crowd themselves. More often though, they’d be a tangle of arms, of legs, of tongues.
Anyone looking would see the shifting of muscles as one cock slid slowly and deeply into the open pucker of the others ass. Whether it was a silicone cock or a bio one was irrelevant.
This was Sodom, after all.
Jake:
If Sodom is a mystery, a fantasy spread on the wings of rumor, then the owner of Sodom is even more so. Only the staff of Sodom know anything about this strange person – and they’re highly unlikely to share any information. Oh, you might get to converse with them, if you’re lucky. But will you find out their name, their history? Will you find out why Sodom is, or how it came to be? Will you, really, find out anything at all?
Probably not. Maybe that’s just as well. Be satisfied you’re in the club at all.
* * * * *
Jake walked across the main floor of Sodom, his tool belt clanking. He echoed with each step, the noises rebounding back and forth across the empty space. He was quite used to the emptiness – he saw the club this way more often than not. But in just a few hours it would be filled with bodies, and he looked forward, as always, to seeing the contrast.
It was time for one last check on all the equipment. Jake always made sure that everything was in good working order, safe and oiled and tight.
It pleased him to know that people were safe in their debauchery. He checked it all again after the night was over, and did any required repairs during the week – but a final check was always smart.
He began with the cage. It was one of his favorite places, and he spent a lot of time in there when he wasn’t on-shift. Being in the cage – lying, sitting, kneeling or crouching – always made him feel safe. Especially when the owner locked him in. That was definitely a treat, and he knew he’d been doing a particularly good job to earn it.
He ran his hands over each bar from bottom to top to check that there were no burrs to catch flesh. He swung the door open and inspected both the hinges and the latch. With the door open, he stuck his head inside to run his eye over the padding on the bottom of the cage as well. Everything was looking good, so he reversed back out and closed the door. Important to keep things neat and tidy.
Walking past the padded sofa and chair, he headed next for the stocks. They were always extremely popular, given how they placed the buttocks at a convenient height. Unlike the metal of the cage, the stocks were well-worn wood, but he still ran his hands over them to check there had been no splintering.
Where the wrists and head rested was rounded with space for padding or towels and he checked those areas extra-carefully. And where the latch hooked at the end, he snapped and unsnapped it experimentally.
Jake also crouched and checked the supports on the ground, and how it stood. Was it solid? He lent on it. No wobbling, which was good – and neither should it, after he’d shored it up just a few months back. Onto the next piece.
The kneeling benches also saw heavy use – usually for sport fucking and fisting. There were three of them, all slightly different, and he moved his way around them testing legs and buckles, straps, and restraining rings. Because they were foldable, he also made sure they were securely opened and snapped into place, and that they wouldn’t close unexpectedly – the last thing anyone wanted was their furniture to collapse beneath them!
Finally, bringing Jake almost back to where he’d started, there was the cross. This was a permanent fixture, and rarely needed adjusting. It also saw the most BDSM use, along with anal play. The advantage of being able to tie people standing up – there was lots of room to flog them as well as fuck them – as he’d discovered for himself! He smiled at the memory as he worked to tighten a bolt.
At last, he was done. He walked back around the bar, counted the padlocks there – one for the cage, one for the stocks, one for space, one key attached to each, one spare of each key on the drawer – and then took off his tool belt and hung it on the hook in the cupboard. Everything in its place.
He then put on his waist apron and began to check the drink stocks. While every patron only received two drinks (a very sensible rule, he’d always thought), it was important to ensure that everything they wanted was in place and ready.
Jake loved working at Sodom. He loved tending bar, and he loved tending furniture. Most of all, he loved being tended to by the owner. Yes, that made it all worthwhile.
Comfort Levels:
The owner of Sodom values privacy highly. The staff of Sodom do as well. There are six of them, and they all found their way through, shall we say, unusual circumstances. Six is all you need for Sodom, when it’s only open once a week. Of course, just because it’s closed the rest of the time doesn’t mean it’s not in use…
* * * * *
Leaning against the bar, Linus watched his pet. More specifically, he watched the magnificent ass of Violet as it pressed hard up against the bars of the cage she was in. She’d only been in there about ten minutes at this point, but going by the wriggles and tremors of her buttocks she was definitely enjoying herself as she watched the crowd on the main floor.
While Linus had visited Sodom many times over the years, this was his first visit with Violet in attendance. He had many plans for her this evening; her time in the cage, with her metal plug in her ass, was just the beginning. He was well aware how overwhelming Sodom could all be for those not used to it, so he had carefully designed how he was going to acclimatize his pet to the sights and sounds, the excitement and the seductions of the club.
* * * * *
They arrived through the discreet main entrance, and were greeted by Bambi in the small atrium. Even though she knew Linus well, Tina checked his invitation carefully and made sure his name was on the list. She also scrutinized Violet’s invitation, and after finding her name on the list as well, ran briefly through the important information:
“These are your drink tickets. You only get two alcoholic drinks per person for the entire evening. Don’t give your tickets to anyone else. Your tickets are numbered, and we will know if someone else uses them. Feel free not to use them – just give them to Jake at the bar if that’s the case.
“There’s no limit on non-alcoholic drinks. Water, juice, soft-drinks, you name it. Be sure to keep your fluids up if you’re planning on playing hard.
“Sodom also provides towels, condoms, dentals dams, gloves and lubricant for all our patrons. There are two floors and there’s always at least one staff member around on each floor. You’ll be able to spot them by the S-shaped armband.”
At this she paused and showed Violet the heavy silver armband she had running around her upper left bicep. The light caught and reflected off it. ”If you need anything, or require assistance, just ask them. That’s what they’re there for.
“Linus has been here before, so he can give you the tour of the facilities, furniture, and possibilities. The main thing is to always ask consent before touching or playing with someone – and be safe and have fun!”
With that, she led them to another door, and Violet her first glimpse of Sodom.
* * * * *
As Linus had expected, she’d been overwhelmed. He’d taken her around both floors, showing her first the main area with all the furniture, the bar, and then the second floor with the play areas and smaller rooms. While the evening was young and there weren’t too many guests there, he knew that for one unused to Sodom, it would be a shock for her. So it was no surprise when in the last of the small bedrooms she came into his arms, shivering. “I don’t think I can do this, Sir. There’s so many people!” So he’d closed the door, soothing and petting her, biting her shoulders and raking her back. And slowly, deliberately, turning her on. Arousing his slut.
So when he bent his slut over the bed and lubricated her ass, she arched her back and pressed back onto his fingers.
When he pulled out the heavy metal plug from his toybag and ran it down her spine, she shivered and growled and tossed her head in high spirits.
And when he slid it all the way deep inside in one long slow inexorable insertion, she took it all with a low moan of pleasure and delight.
That’s his pet!
* * * * *
So now he leans against the bar. He’s turned in his first ticket to Jake and is enjoying a Corona with lime – but not enjoying its coolness nearly as much as he’s enjoying the heat of Violet’s ass over there in the cage. He knows how much she’ll be yearning to see, now he’s taken the ability away from her (glasses tucked nearly into his shirt pocket). He’s pondering how long to leave her in there, when he notices someone stop to talk to her. Not someone he immediately recognizes, although they look vaguely familiar. Whoever they were, they dressed elegantly – they wouldn’t look out of place at the opera.
Linus was still trying to place the vaguely familiar face when they did the unthinkable – touching without asking. In this case – smacking his pet’s ass through the bars of the cage. Not the done thing at all, and he would definitely be making a complaint about that! However, it was Violet was more concerned about, and he was on his feet and making his way over to her swiftly.
Only to find, as he came around to face her, that her eyes were closed and she was … was that a smile?
Unimpressed, he put his hand through the bars and lifted her chin. “So, my pet. Care to tell me what you managed to see with your eyes closed?”
Who Watches?
There are hidden depths to Sodom. Places that visitors will never know exists, let alone visit. Where else can the owner and the staff do their jobs, let alone relax when the club is closed?
One place is hidden in plain sight. A slim door marked ‘Supplies’ between two bathrooms, perpetually seen padlocked. If anyone thinks of it at all, it’s to assume it has the usual – a mop and bucket, some cleaner, some loo paper. Instead, it has something much more interesting tucked inside…
* * * * *
They don’t see him. They have no idea he even exists. But he watches them all. Sees them in all their depravity. Watches them wallow in their perversions, flaunt their fetishes, and enjoy every desire they never knew they had before coming to Sodom.
That’s his job. To watch. And so watching is what he does.
It’s his pleasure.
* * * * *
One of the simplest ways to keep all the clientele at Sodom safe is, simply, to keep an eye on the goings on. So there’s Tina on the door and Jake at the bar, and the owner moving around as the mood strikes. The floor staff circulating means guests are always aware they can ask for help or guidance, and the silver armbands mark them out clearly.
But visitors to Sodom don’t see the tiny earpieces, or notice the discreet cameras. They have no reason to look up other than to admire the cross-bars and the sling – who is going to look for a tiny lens?
Those small apertures show Arthur two floors of fantastical filth, all night. He looks through all of them, sees the entirety of the club at a glance. Every private room, all the dimly lit corners (dimly lit for a reason – those recesses are popular spots), cage, the bar, the shower stalls. He can see them rimming and fucking, flogging and fisting. He watches the dance of picking up, making out, exhibiting, voyeurism.
Arthur knows he’s a voyeur too. But that’s why he’s so very good at his job.
Every once in a very long while, there’s something that catches his attention. Something not quite right. Perhaps body language reading of consent withdrawn, or too much to drink despite the low limit. When that happens, he notes the closest staff member and murmurs in their ear – and there they are, ready to keep things smooth. To read the riot act if needed, or give some quiet space. To provide water, or a firm talking to, or maybe a firm hand instead.
When he’s working, he’s utterly focused. While Arthur takes his pleasure from what he sees, he stores away the most appalling images for later, for his personal use. In his memory, he knows he will be able to recall them as vividly as if they are on the screen before him. And, if he needs it?
Well, everything is recorded and kept for seven days before wiping. Boss’s orders. He’s never needed to refer back to what he’s seen – but just knowing he could is sometimes enough to make him spill, when he later berates himself, beats himself, wanks himself into orgasm.
He knows he’s sick. Knows he’s as depraved as all of them out there. But he’s in here. Removed. Hidden. That allows him to work, to focus, to get through the night.
And in the morning the owner will come to let him out of his chains, and out of his dank oubliette. His work will be done, and he can go and wallow in his own perversions once more.
* * * * *
Work of Art:
Atmosphere is everything. It doesn’t matter how carefully selected the guests; how discreet the location. Sodom is designed to be the fantasy – which means providing not only the rooms and implements to fulfill deviant desires, but also the ambience.
Sodom exists to create works of ecstatic art. But also to share them.
* * * * *
Black and white, a photograph so delicate it could almost be sketched in pencil. Here, identifiably, is a wrist, a palm, the lower portion of a hand clad in a (black, latex?) glove. See the tendons, the flex of muscle.
Admire the press of skin. Follow the lines, deduce where those fingers are inserted. Shadows surround knuckles, fingers, tips – light returns only to highlight curves of skin, beautiful flesh opening for that questing hand.
* * * * *
A long tail, caught by a slight breeze, or swish of the hips. Strands moving with the motion – each one catching the light and shimmering. The tail coming together at the top, gathered into a silicone plug in the ass, the ass and legs shiny in latex.
* * * * *
Presented, a jock strapped bottom: fondled, opened, multiple hands taking their opportunity to have their wicked wonderful way. Hands are everywhere. They slide around and up the thighs. They dance down the hips. One is pulling out the lower right strap of the jock. An index fingertip, lubed, is teasing the pucker – which is delicately flowering. One hand is in the act of pinching the left buttock. The ass is pushed out, toward the camera, presenting, opening, begging. Wanting.
* * * * *
Close-up of a delighted smile – the tongue flickering, the chin extended. Eyes are bright and excited at the notion (of being caught on camera? Or of what is to come next?). A deliberately blurred rosebud is captured just out of tongue-reach. It seemed a little damp. Perhaps that tongue has caught it once before?
* * * * *
Cuddling on the big chair. Curled up together, kissing. A closer look and you see the dildo casually resting in one bottom.
**
Primal. Brutal. Glorious. Cock buried deep in ass. Face showing the spasms of orgasm.
* * * * *
Natasha takes photographs every week. She will only photograph by request, and those images never leave Sodom – but she is never short of requests.She is the only person to photograph within Sodom, and her images are the only artwork on display. There is no other porn, or advertising, or sculpture. Just elegant, depraved, anally-oriented exploits of and by the clientele who desire it.
There are thirty frames on the walls at Sodom – and every week there are thirty fresh black and white photographs filling the frames. To have a photograph of your explorations selected by Natasha is an honor. She will photograph anyone who asks. But when only thirty photographs are selected? The competition is hot.
For Natasha, nothing is off-limits. She will photograph any scene, any act. She will photograph up close, or from a distance. Fucking, sucking, hurting, or pleasuring. As long as she is behind the lens and not part of the scene herself, it’s fine by her.
Natasha doesn’t talk. Natasha doesn’t play. She works. All Natasha wants to do is photograph, and to be intimate from a distance.
Later, as she sorts through her pictures, and chooses the best to edit and make into prints, she remembers the scenes. Then, and only then will she enjoy herself – and enjoy the pleasure of knowing she has made memory into a work of art.
The More You Know:
The doors to Sodom open once a week. But an invitation, once received, isn’t for keeps – it is for one night only. Attendance isn’t mandatory; you under no obligation to be there. But entering those discreet doors once is no guarantee you will ever enter again. And receiving a heavy vellum envelope one week does not mean you’ll get one for the next.
There is no obvious rhyme or reason why some guests are invited week after week; while others only sporadically. Why some come through the doors once in a very great while and yet others visit once and then never again.
Only the owner knows the answer. And they’re not telling.
* * * * *
“So, my pet. Care to tell me what you managed to see with your eyes closed?”
Violet’s eyes shot open, startled out of her reverie. “Sir! I … I …”
“Stammering does not become you, Violet.” Linus let go of her chin, and watched her reaction. As he expected, she was flustered, and color rose in her cheeks as she took in his tone along with his unimpressed look. “So tell me,” he continued. “Who was it conversing with you just now? Were they polite enough to introduce themselves before they smacked your ass without asking my permission?”
Whatever answer he might have been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the one he got. Violet dropped her head, looking at the floor of the cage, and that smile again teased the corners of her mouth.
“I … well …. they said this was their club, Sir.”
* * * * *
Jake watched everything from behind the bar. He was ideally placed to see occurrences on the main floor – the bar was situated just that way for a reason, with good line of sight for the cage, sofa and chairs, and the stocks. So when Linus had moved swiftly across to the cage, unhappiness marring his features, Jake had murmured a message through the discreet headset to Theodore out on the main floor, giving him a quiet heads-up on the situation.
Now, it looked like that wasn’t needed. If anything, Linus looked like he could do with another one of those Coronas. But he was looking to his partner first – Jake watched as the padlock was removed from the cage, and Violet given instructions and feedback as she slowly shuffled backwards out of the cage, her steel butt-plug winking in the light. Linus helped her to find her feet on the ground, and to stand safely. And then – yes, he was right – they were both heading toward the bar.
“Another drink?” he enquired when they were close enough for him to be heard.
* * * * *
Linus placed the padlock, with the key in the lock, back on the bar. “This comes back to you, I believe?” He looked somewhat shaken. “And yes, another Corona would be lovely. Let me just get my drink ticket out.” He fished in his trouser pocket.
Violet stood beside him, head turned towards Linus. “Sir. May I have one of my tickets please? And my glasses?”
He paused in his fishing expedition, then resumed, and pulled out two tickets.”Make that a Corona, and … ” His eyes cut over to Violet. “A gin and tonic for my pet. No ice.” Linus then lifted her glasses out of his shirt pocket, and, opening them, settled them on her upturned face. As he took these small measures of control, he seemed more comfortable, his stance relaxing.
Jake busied himself, getting the Corona from the fridges below the counter, placing the wedge of lime in the lip on the bottle; pouring the gin and the tonic into the short glass and then putting their drinks in front of them, swapping them for the preferred tickets. He noted that Theodore had managed to wander casually over to this side of the floor, but a quick tilt of the head was all that was needed to reassure him that everything was fine.
He questioned his judgement when, a minute of silent sipping later, Linus quietly asked, “So, Jake. Was it the owner of Sodom who slapped my Violet, then?”
* * * * *
Jake was wiping the counter when Linus asked that question. He looked up, startled. It was a question that could be taken quite the wrong way – but the look on Linus’ face wasn’t one of anger. No, there was curiosity there. And that made sense, Jake thought. While this was Violet’s first visit, Linus was an ‘irregular regular’: one who’d been invited a good thirty or so times over the last two years. Certainly not an every week guest, but one who was invited at least monthly, if not more often.
A favored guest, if not a weekly one. And all guests were curious about the owner of Sodom. Very few had seen them, met them, or knew anything about them. Violet – as one who’d been spoken to – was greatly favored. Whether she realized it or not.
Jake made a decision.
Not one made lightly – but one that was, in all probability, the right one. After all, Linus was Violet’s partner. She had been invited, probably, because of him. Why introduce yourself to Violet, and then leave Linus out of the loop?
“Yes,” he said, speaking to both of them. “Violet has met the owner. She was greeted, personally, by the Doyenne.”
Good Pony:
All kinks are welcome in Sodom. While the focus of the club is on all things anal, the Doyenne enjoys inviting a variety of guests whose desires and fetishes keep things … interesting.
* * * * *
Trotting across the main floor of Sodom, his head held high, Stanis was focused predominately on pleasing his trainer. When he was in pony-space, Anneke was always first and foremost in his thoughts, and that was as it should be. She held the lead, and he had given her his pony-soul long ago. But his brain could never turn off the multi-tasking, and so he was also aware of how his tail swished against the back of his knees, how his buttocks clenched around the large silicone plug with every step he took, and the delightful clack that his metal hoofs made against the floor.
As he moved toward the bar, he also noticed his teeth pressing against the rubber bit in his mouth, the sweat pooling inside the latex costuming his thighs, the press of his harness against his groin. For the most part, though, he was aware of Anneke, and of the eyes on him.
He came to a stop where he’d been instructed. Whickering around his bit, he stood still, not turning to his trainer.
Chin tucked down, he wondered who’d been looking at him. Maybe the cage girl, the one who’d shown so much shy interest when his tail was put in place earlier? He thought maybe so. He felt Anneke’s hand stroking his cheek, and he pressed into it. “There’s my good boy,” she crooned. “What a very good pony you are.”
* * * * *
Anneke was indeed pleased with her pony – so much so that she wanted to show him off some more. Rather than stay at the bar to water and groom him, as she’d originally planned, she instead clicked her tongue – a signal to Stanis that it was time to walk – at the same time giving a gentle tug on the right rein, signaling him to turn in that direction. She was pleased with his response. His head lifted promptly, and he turned to the right, walking briskly.
As they passed the sofas, it was time for something new. To see if he remembered his training, Anneke said clearly, “High step!”Stanis swept from a walk to instead lifting his legs high with each step – something she knew he’d never done with a plug in before. She was pleased to see that aside from a minor hesitation at the apex of the first step, he did very well indeed. He looked very elegant doing so, as well. She continued his high-stepping until they reached the far end of the floor, then called “Stop.”
Oh, but he was a good pony!
* * * * *
He was really feeling that plug now. Stanis had no idea that high-stepping could make him so aware of his ass; every time he’d lifted a hoof he’d had to clench his buttocks tight to keep his tail firmly in place! And every time he’d clenched, his cock had gotten ideas, pressing and straining against the rubber that encased his groin. He had an idea that ponies weren’t supposed to get this turned on just from walking. And yet.
* * * * *
Anneke knew very well what high-stepping with a large plug would do to a pony. She also knew that Stanis also knew, now. That minor hesitation on the first high step had given it away – and she was mightily impressed to have only seen it once. So she thought it was definitely time for her pony to have a reward.
“You are such a good pony, my lovely pony boy.” She scratched his head, smiling at him. “You’ve been so good that I’m going to braid your tail for you.” One of the spanking benches was at this end of the floor, and was free. She’d deliberately aimed them towards it, and now she sat down upon it. “Here, you stand still, legs just a little apart like that.”
She took his tail between her hands. Grasping it near the base of the plug, she gave it a gentle tug, and felt him gasp. “Now, pony, we’re going to play a braiding game as well, okay?” She paused. “As I am braiding your tail, I am going to treat you by getting you to clench your buttocks. Every time I say ‘good pony’ you are to clench for me, then whinny. Do you understand me? Good pony.” She waited, then felt through the tail as he clenched. Then she heard an uncertain whinny come from him.
“That’s it! Good pony.” She was approving. A moment, and he clenched, and whinnied again.
Smiling, she began to braid his tail.
* * * * *
Stanis was having trouble thinking. His whole world was down to Anneke’s voice saying “Good pony.” To his cock, feeling painfully hard and vulcanized. And to the the insistent tug of the plug as his tail was braided; the intensity of clenching as she complimented him; his whinny.
“Yes, you’re my good pony.”
Clench.
Whinny.
“Such a good pony.”
* * * * *
She braided slowly, intently. He was her good pony, and Anneke was very proud of him and how he’d behaved this evening. She wondered, as she murmured, and he clenched and whinnied, if Stanis had realised she was going to keep this up until he popped.
His whinnies were getting louder. She didn’t think he realized that, either.
“My pretty pony, so very pretty. My good pony.”
Soon, now.
* * * * *
Cock hard. Ass full. Whinnies loud.Voice commanding. “Come NOW!”
Stanis’ head was back, his mouth open and straining, his cock spurting into the rubber that sheathed his body. His ass clenched and shuddered, his hooves stamped. He snorted.
He shook.
Anneke stroked his flanks, rubbed his limbs, caressed his face. She kissed his nose, and smiled at him when he opened his eyes and blinked.
“Oh, but you are such a good pony!”
Perceptions:
What happens at Sodom? It seems like a simple answer – and yet it isn’t. Those for whom it is a myth have one story. Those who attend have another. And for those who work there? What happens at Sodom is different for each of them.
Perception is a fascinating thing.
* * * * *
Arthur was not having a good night. If you were with him in his little room and asked him about it, he’d likely growl at you (it was his little room – what the hell are you doing there?) and he certainly wouldn’t admit his misery. But the truth of it was that his metal cuffs are too tight around each ankle, and the one on the right has caught the skin and is pinching like a bastard.
He’s thirsty, and knows his water has to last him another five hours. The glare of the monitors, normally soothing, was making his eyes water.And everyone he can see on the screens is having far too much fun. The perverts.
Out there in the club you’re pegging and fucking and lubing and flogging. And here’s Arthur, good old watchdog, keeping an eye on all you bastards.
No, it wasn’t a good night.
* * * * *
Natasha was having a very good night. If you were with her on the floor and asked her about it, she wouldn’t answer you (Natasha never answers questions – at least not with anything more meaningful than a gesture), but she is feeling ‘in the groove’. From the start of the evening the requests have been constant, and images have flowered before her. Beautiful scenes, contrasts, delicious interludes that she has felt satisfaction upon capturing with her classic Leica.
Black and white beauty. Framed and caught like precious moments in time.
Yes, it was a very good night.
* * * * *
Tina was bored. If you were with her in the atrium and asked her why, she’d only tell you if you were another staff member (it wasn’t protocol to discuss such things with guests), but really it was for the same reason she got bored about this time every shift. There were some names on The List that hadn’t yet come through the door – and it wasn’t yet time to close the doors for the evening. So for the next twenty minutes, she got to be bored. The chances that the five errant guests would arrive were slim, but it was possible.
Patience, T. Just hang out until the clock strikes midnight, then you can go and stretch your legs.
Yep, it was that boring spot, all right.
* * * * *
Jake was off balance. If you were at the bar and asked him why, he’d pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about (that was his way of dealing, really) and wipe the bar down again. But while it seemed to the casual eye that everything was running smoothly out there on the floor, he knew that things weren’t, quite.
Most of the guests were unaware that the Doyenne had been out among them. Few of the guests would know what the owner looked like, anyhow. But for the Doyenne to make an introduction to a first-time guest…
Did I do the right thing, telling Linus it was the Doyenne?
Yes, Jake was definitely off balance.
* * * * *
The Doyenne was most satisfied. No one was going to ask them why – which was good, as they had no intention of sharing their thoughts. But the rest of the evening certainly looked to be considerably more entertaining.
Which meant it was time to pay an unexpected visit to Arthur, and shake things upjusta bit more.
Impulse Moves:
The Doyenne had reasons for everything. Even impulsive moves had reasons behind the impulse, and they were considered before that impulse was acted upon. Greeting Violet had been one such impulse – and going to shake up Arthur would be another.
It was that kind of night.
* * * * *
The little room in which Arthur watched over Sodom had eyes that could see the entire club. ‘Private’ spaces were not exempt – this was a protective role, and he protected, even as he sneered at the filth he saw happening. It didn’t matter if a door had been closed to a private room, or a shower was in use. It didn’t matter if they were in the darkest, dankest, dungeon-est corner of the place. They might be blindfolded while their bodies were flogged and their orifices plundered, but the tiny eyes of Sodom’s cameras saw it all.
Arthur was staff, so he was privy to secrets that guests did not know. But he didn’t know everything.
One thing he didn’t know was that a camera watched over him.
* * * * *
Sodom the club took up the central portion of a two floor building. It didn’t use the entire space – there were rooms that only the staff entered, scattered around the periphery and with their entrances discreetly tucked away. From one of those rooms you could take another door and follow a corridor to reach the staff living areas. But – if you instead took two more doors (each requiring their own keys) and then a further corridor that took a sharp step down, you’d find yourself in a different building entirely.
And that’s where the Doyenne made their home.
* * * * *
After drifting through the club and meeting Violet, the Doyenne had slipped back through the staff-only areas, listening. While the other staff keyed their discreet headsets on and off whenever they needed to pass a message along, all chatter automatically came through to this one. Jake’s murmured concern over Linus, when he beckoned Theodore across the main floor, was heard. Arthur’s cranky muttering, which he had no idea was broadcast, was heard. Tina’s slight shuffling as she waiting for midnight and door-closure, was heard. Even Jake’s bar-wiping came through. When it suited, it was easy enough to tune it out or turn it off. But for now, it was wanted.
So, it wasn’t the greeting so much as the touching that had set off Linus – that really wasn’t a surprise. The Doyenne had watched the man as he’d visited over the past few years, and continued inviting him, more regularly than some, as there was something … interesting about him. To see him arrive with a partner, though – that was new. Jake stepped up though, going off my hints to the woman. We’ll thank him for that later.
But Arthur. That’s not how he should be behaving. Arthur, though, could not just be walked in on. Having cameras everywhere included the area by the showers and the entrance to his oubliette. And that meant surprising him a different way.
Rather than approach the showering area, the Doyenne instead returned to the other building.
* * * * *
In the Doyenne’s private sleeping quarters, there was a laptop. It was kept locked away whenever not in use, so they retrieved it and booted it up, and opened a certain program. The program which showed Arthur’s space, and Arthur.
He was still grumbling. No noise came through the laptop, but now the actions could be seen to match the audio from the earpiece. He was rubbing his right ankle, where the cuff was, body twisted out of true as he kept his eyes on the monitors in front of him. His hair – wispy and practically colorless – was messed, as if he’d been shoving his hands through them, or tugging at the ends.
“Damned stupid bitching people. If they weren’t here I wouldn’t be locked up and my ankle wouldn’t pinch and I could relax and why are they such cunting pervert bastards anyhow?” Rub clank twist. “And I could pee and have more water and why can’t I have a bigger bottle and fuck sometimes I hate my job and why do I bother anyhow?” Clank twist rub.
Oh, Arthur. You are in trouble. This needed to be dealt to.
The Doyenne tapped a setting on her earpiece, opening a private channel between herself and Arthur. It wouldn’t be appropriate for the rest of the staff to hear this. In a quiet voice, the Doyenne spoke. “You are vile, Arthur. Do you think you hurt now? Do you think you’re uncomfortable now? Do you think you’re thirsty now?”
The was absolute cessation of movement, seen through the screen. “Boss! I … uh… oh, fuck…”
“Do you really hate your job, Arthur, you vile worm? This job you begged for, you slime? Do you want me to give it away, you sniveling toad?”
On the screen, Arthur slid to his knees. The ankle chain clanked. His eyes closed and forehead creased. His look was one of agony.
The Doyenne’s voice whipped out. “Watch the screens! You’re not fired yet, scum.”
A whimper. “Yes, boss. Thank you, boss.”
“Get back in your seat. I expect no more complaints tonight, Arthur. Not from you, not about you. Only talk when you have something to say to one of the staff about something on the screen.”
A frantic nod, followed by a spoken, “Yes, boss.”
The Doyenne continued, “I will let you out when I feel you’ve been in long enough to think about this. When I do, you can tell me if you still want this position.” A pause, and then another thought came to them. “And one more thing. If you’re thirsty, you’re just going to have to drink your own piss. Because you’re not getting any more water, Arthur. Not until I let you out.”
The laptop was closed. The Doyenne smiled. The only sound in the earpiece was quiet moaning.
And the small clock on the wall showed midnight.
Soaking It Up:
Sodom is a playground. And so guests are encouraged to play! Try the equipment, have new experiences, make friends, stretch your wings and fly. It’s a safe place to be perverse – and why not? What happens in Sodom stays in Sodom. And if you like it, you can always do it again the next week …
* * * * *
Steam fills the air. Water trickles across the tiles and splashes across the steps. The green plants in the corners soak up the jungle heat. She soaks it up as well. Hot water. Hot partners. Hot hands. Hot tongues.
Hot toy.
A delightfully hot toy, in fact. It had started off cold, the glass of the silicone-lube-coated shaft contrasting with the heat of her skin. But it had swiftly taken up the warmth of the water and of her own insides, becoming a roaring fire inside her. She could feel its weight, its burn, as it pressed deep into her ass. She could feel the slide as it went deeper, the twist as the wicked woman behind her gave it a turn, the way the head pressed against her insides and the fingers teased her g-spot.
The mouth plundering hers breaks free, and the hot water cascades onto her face, drenching her. She grins, revels in the stinging sensation. Her partner drops his head and nuzzles a breast, while his hand continues to explore and tantalize her cunt folds. She lifts a hand to languidly stroke his head, pressing him into her and using his body to hold her upright.
Ruth is pressed up full length behind her, breast to back and legs to legs, keeping the pressure on her ass and using the handle of the toy like a crank to turn it slowly, intensely. At the same time, her fingers dance inside across Ayn’s g-spot, pressing and nuzzling, while Saul flicks and squeezes and teases her clitoris, and worships her breasts in the water and steam.
Goddess or sacrifice, Ayn soaks it all up. Takes the torment, takes the pleasure. Loses herself in the sensations and the attention. Cries her orgasms into the echoes of the jungle space. Spatters her offerings across the tile, to mingle with the other hot waters that flow.
* * * * *
They dry each other off, enjoying the rasp of the heavy cotton towels across heat-reddened skin. Ayn admires Saul’s tattoos as she pats his chest free of water, while Ruth admires his pert bottom. “You’re next, if you want.” she says, looking sideways at him with a smile. “That looks like an ass that could appreciate a fist, perhaps?”
Ayn breaks into a grin at Ruth’s forwardness, and Saul has opened his mouth to reply when he pauses, thought interrupted.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
“Hear what?” Ayn asks.
“I thought I heard… no, surely not – there are no rooms anywhere near here! But I could have sworn I heard somebody moaning.”
Well Stocked:
What do you want? At Sodom everyone knows what you want – or what you think you want – it’s why you’re all there. Still, you don’t always get it. Chances are pretty high, instead, that you’ll get what you need.
* * * * *
The evening wasn’t going quite as Linus had planned. True, Violet had looked good enough to fuck, all wide-eyed in her cage; and sliding that heavy metal plug into her ass beforehand had made his cock hard and wanting. But knowing that the person who’d stopped by the cage to talk to her was the owner of Sodom – the Doyenne– someone he’d never seen in all his visits, was somewhat disconcerting. Why now? Why her? Was it a good sign?
It was something to think about – but it could wait for later. Right now there was a certain ass to plunder. It was coming up to midnight – and there was plenty more of the club for his slut to be introduced to in the next few hours.
* * * * *
Thanking Jake for both the drinks and the information, Linus picked up his toybag and led Violet from the bar area. Violet didn’t know where they were going, but Linus did – he took her past the cage (he watched her eyes follow it with a smile), beyond the fully occupied sofas, and over to the wooden stocks.
They were a well-used piece of equipment, and the patina had been worn smooth in the valleys where the wrists and neck rested. Linus’ personal preference was to pad those spots, so that his ‘victim’ would be comfortable – there, at least – for longer. Which meant his pet had a job to do.
“Pet, see that basket over by the wall? Give me your drink, and then go and bring me three of the rolled towels from there.” He held Violet’s gin and tonic in his right hand, and drained his Corona with his left. He was going to be needing his hands free very shortly.
He watched Violet detour around a kneeling bench where a latex pony was having his tail braided, her plugged bottom swaying as her bare feet padded towards the basket. There were actually two – one basket with unused, rolled up towels, and another where the discards were placed. He was confident she could figure out which was which.
As she returned, he placed both drinks on the shelf, and proceeded to lift the latch hook at the end of the stocks. It could be padlocked, but he’s already made the decision not to do so this time. Lifting the upper stock board, he swung it up so it rested vertically. “Thank you, my slut,” he said, as she presented three dark red towels to him. He took the first one, unrolling it and then refolding it into a pad, which he placed in the neck groove. He then did the same with the wrist grooves.
“Can you guess what we’re going do to now?” he asked. He was pleased to see her eyes sparkle.
“Play?”
* * * * *
He permitted her a mouthful of her gin and tonic before placing her head and arms into the stocks. He brought the stock board down carefully, making sure it didn’t pinch skin or catch hair – although the holes were wide enough that it was unlikely. Her legs were flat on the floor, and he nudged her knees apart, not too gently.
“Don’t hide your cunt and ass from me, Violet.” He put an emphasis on her name that made it clear he was unimpressed. “You should know better than that. You’re in the stocks for my pleasure, and it is not my pleasure for you to hide.” Despite standing behind her, he knew that she would be blushing. He also knew she was turned on by this. He could smell her arousal.
“Now, you have a choice – but choose wisely. Do you wish to keep your glasses on, and see everyone who is watching you? Do you wish your glasses off, so it’s all a blur? Or would you rather be blindfolded?”
He waited. He genuinely didn’t know what she was going to answer – but he would make any answer work for him.
She finally answered, in a small questioning voice: “Blindfolded, please Sir?”
Yes, he could work with that.
* * * * *
She looked utterly beautiful. Blindfolded, head high, breasts deliciously dangling, ass presented, legs firm. For a bonus, because they both loved rope so much, he’d tied her ankles to the base of the stocks, so she’d keep those legs apart.
And she had no idea what he was going to do next. So of course he started simply. He took a feather tickler from his toybag, and teased those nipples poking down into the air. Linus deliberately refrained from touching her anywhere else. Just kept his distance, going flick! flick! flick!and watching her squirm and twist. Should couldn’t get away – her torso could only move so far, and then he just teased again.
He slipped up to her head, and leaned down to her ear. “It’s so much fun watching other people touch you, my slut.” He chuckled, and knew he was very glad indeed she’d chosen the blindfold.
He ran a hand down her back, then slapped upwards across her asscheeks – in exactly the way he normally didn’t. Up one cheek, down the other. Watching her lift on her toes and wriggle in the stocks. Seeing the plug wink as she clenched around it. Feeling the heat of her bottom as he warmed it with his hands. He kept spanking, until she began to yelp. Which was exactly what he wanted. A few more slaps, and then he moved back around to her head.
“Did you like being hit by him?” he growled. “He’s had his eye on you. Maybe I’ll let him fuck your ass, later.” He delighted in her whimper, and in the heavy aroma of her cunt juices.
Now that gave him wicked thoughts…
Back to her backside, and he roughly pushed three fingers of his left hand into her cunt. She was sodden, dripping, and he pulled back out to add another finger, then slam his thumb onto her clit. He rubbed hard, no sweetness and gentleness here, but his right hand gave the lie to that, slowly twisting the metal plug in her ass, feeling the slide and the tease. Oh yes. This was why he’d had to have her. This was why he’d wanted to bring her. This was why he was showing her off.
He really did want to see her well fucked while he watched. But right now he wanted to plunder her deeply. So, pulling his left hand free with a sucking pop (she moaned as he did), he then, more gently, let go of the plug. Stepping back, leaving her untouched, he watched her undulate, pushing her ass and cunt back toward whomever she believed it was, while he casually undressed. He folded his shirt and pants neatly, putting them on top of the toybag, with a small bag that he’d pulled from his pocket placed on top of the pile.
He then padded silently back to stand behind her.
* * * * *
She was panting. Moaning. “Please. Please?” Oh, he would please. But himself. Her too – she loved it as well. But that was just lucky, really.
He slapped her ass again, hard. One cheek and then the other, and then again,bang bang bang bang. And she shrieked in surprise, he grabbed the end of the plug and pulled it free with a smooth twist, and turned to place it in the small bag.
He turned back and smiled. There was that lovely ass, gaping and inviting and red-cheeked and all his. Picking up the bottle of silicone lubricant from the shelf, he proceeded to judiciously inject some down that slutty asshole, and then, after putting on a condom, slather some more on his cock – his very hard cock. The clench and cry of surprise at the cold lube touching unsuspecting skin had made him smile a cruel smile, but it didn’t deter him in the slightest. She knew what was coming now.
Which meant, of course, that he surprised her.
He stepped around to her side again, used one hand to pull and twist and maul her tit, and leaned in to growl at her. “You’re about to get fucked, now. And there’s quite a line. I hope you can take it, slut.”
He didn’t miss her dazed smile, her imminent orgasm, as he squeezed and pummeled and pulled. He was certain it remained as he curled his left hand back into her cunt and felt her spasming around his fingers. And he knew that she was in her element – just as he was – as he positioned himself behind her and slid his cock into that most welcoming orifice.
Midnight:
Midnight is the witching hour – and at Sodom it’s no different. There’s something about the movement from one day to the next. Endings and beginnings. Whether you’re aware of the changeover or not, it still leaves its mark.
* * * * *
As the clock turned midnight, Violet was wide open and welcoming a strangers cock into her ass. Tied to the stocks, blindfolded, well-lubricated, and profoundly aroused, she didn’t care who it was fucking her, as long as she was fucked. Her cheeks burned from slapping, her tits from mauling, and her ankles from the pull of the rope, but she didn’t care.
Sir had arranged this. Sir was watching her be used, at his pleasure.
As the heavy cock slammed against her over and over she felt her undulations building. Her head was spinning, colors flying in the dark of the blindfold. Oh, and there!The sudden body-shudder spasm, and her orgasm rippling around the hard length in her ass.
It was good to be a slut.
* * * * *
As the clock ticked over into tomorrow, it was Linus sliding his cock deep inside his pet – but she didn’t know that. The whole build-up, the tease, had been to have her believing there was a whole line of strangers just waiting to plunder her, and she believed it, utterly. For now, he was going to fuck her, and fuck her hard. But later… now he knew just how much that particular scenario worked for her? Well, they’d just have to see.
He slammed his cock into her, taking her hard and fast, listening to her gasp and yelp and hearing her build up audibly into an intense orgasm that clenched her hard around him.
Oh, but it was good to be her owner.
* * * * *
As her watch quietly beeped midnight, Tina was already standing up and ready to close the main doors. It was time for her break, and she meant to make the most of it. “Jake,” she said quietly into her earpiece. “Ready to come stretch your legs with me?” She turned the lock, and shot the bolt home – ensuring that no one could come onto the premises now that entry was officially closed. A smile flicked across her face at Jake’s response, and she picked up The List on her way past her stool, heading for the bar, and Jake.
It was good to work a tSodom.Especially when you had a partner.
* * * * *
As the eleven became a twelve, Jake was thinking about T. He knew that she’d be pretty antsy by this point – come about eleven-thirty she always started to get bored, which is why they took their break together at midnight, after she locked up. He was emptying the glass sterilizer when he heard her voice in his ear, and was ready with a riposte: “How about you stretch those legs nice and wide, and I stretch my tongue nice and deep?”
He didn’t expect a reply – at least not a verbal one. He figured he’d get a response in person, soon enough.
It was good to have something to look forward to.
* * * * *
As midnight struck, the Doyenne listened to Arthur as he moaned, and smiled.
As the seconds ticked, Arthur breathed harshly through dryness of his mouth and moved against the uncomfortable hardness in his pants.
As the moments passed, hot steamy fucking began again in the showers, with Ayn and Ruth slowly ravishing Saul’s pert bottom.
As time kept on moving, Sodom kept on doing what it did best: providing ample room for perversion, delights, and debauchery, all the way ’til morning.
* * * * *
What’s in a Name:
Would Sodom have the same air of mystery if it was called ‘The Club of ass’? ‘Stick ‘em Up’? ‘The Booty Bumper’? What something is named can make a difference – something that the Doyenne, and some of the staff, know very well indeed.
* * * * *
Tina and Jake walked side by side as they headed for the private staff areas, knowing they had thirty minutes to work off some steam. This was a regular assignation – while often ‘stretching their legs’ was just that, a chance to for Tina for walk out the kinks from sitting in the atrium all evening, about one time in four things went very differently indeed. Jake still didn’t know what Tina’s response to his offer was – as least not verbally.
She hadn’t said a word when she reached the bar, just waited for him key his earpiece and let Theodore know he was taking his break. But non-verbally? The sway of her ponytail as she walked, the hint of smile about her face, the determined lack of looking at him – they all suggested that she was going to take him up on his offer.
Sometimes they just walked. Walked through the staff kitchen, playroom, lounge, dungeon, showers. Sometimes they stopped in one of those spaces and Jake sat while T stretched. But this time she surprised him with something unexpected – she took his hand.
Still without a word, she led the way, walking with a purpose. And didn’t stop until they reached the staff dungeon.It was empty of people, of course. Everyone else was working. But all the equipment gleamed. It was beautifully cared for – it was used often. Jake looked around, still wondering what Tina had in mind.
It didn’t come clear until they reached the queening stool.
* * * * *
It was made of dark wood, beautifully crafted, smoothed from the use of many asses over the years. Jake knew it was a vintage piece that the Doyenne had brought to Sodom, although he didn’t know how old it was. He’d spent considerable time over the years keeping it varnished and smooth.
He spent a moment considering it; considering where he was, and what was likely to happen now.
Tine turned to him, letting go of his hand. “You wanted to stretch that tongue of yours?”
Jake grinned. “Oh, hell, yes!”
* * * * *
Picture this: a tawny-skinned woman, her black hair still tied in its ponytail. Ivory sleeveless top flowing loose, S-shaped armband catching the light. Her practical shoes and comfortable black trousers discarded on the floor, unneeded. She’s relaxing on the queening stool. But she’s not sitting up on it – she’s leaning back instead, resting her upper shoulders against the wall, stretching her legs out wide and far, and resting the upper portion of her ass on the stool.
Picture this also. Lying between her legs, his head by her ankles, is a man. He’s completely unclothed – his are all flung next to hers. It’s a lovely sight.
She says something, almost lazily. But the room is completely quiet, in sharp contract to the public spaces of Sodom.
“Do you want this?”
“Oh, yes, yes I want this. I want your ass. I want to taste you.”
She smiles, and stretches her left leg out.”Why should I let you?”
“Because I will make you feel really good, I promise!”
She turns her foot inward, pressing it into his shoulder. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, oh yes I promise.”
She moves her other leg, digging her toes in to his ribs. ”What’s my name?”
“Bambi.”
She kicks him, gently. “Try again. What’s my name?”
He pauses. “Tina?”
Another kick, on the other side. Says it again, slowly. “What’s my name?”
“…T?”
This time she slams both feet into him. “What’s my name?”
It takes a minute for him to catch his breath. But he gets the answer. “Mistress. My mistress.”
“That’s right. Your mistress. And now who you’re here with, you are allowed to make me feel good.”
She lifts herself, and given permission, he moves his head so it rests in the base of the stool, beneath her bottom. She sits again, and he is covered, smothered, in her musky ass. His tongue darts out, licks and loves and laves and adores. His nose sucks up the scent of her. He is breathing her in, and smothering in it, gloriously.
She lifts just enough for him to take a gulp of air and he hears: “Say it again.”
“Mistress,” he gasps, as she comes down and brings a world of dark delight with her.
He licks his way to bliss.
Remembrance:
Everyone comes to Sodom for something different. What are you looking for?
* * * * *
Natasha doesn’t talk. Natasha doesn’t play. Natasha takes her photographs, and takes them exceedingly well. And that’s all any guest ever sees her do.
For while Natasha interacts with the other guests, she’s never physically intimate with them. She touches only enough to suggest positioning that would work better for her photographs. She smiles, whilst adroitly avoiding invitations to play. She focuses on her passion, and stays focused on her work.
For Natasha, every photograph is a homage to her lover.
* * * * *
Once, it had been Natasha and Darija together – and they had been happy, or at least fairly well. They lived their lives, working together as journalist and photographer in Sarajevo, discreet lovers in a country that was not particularly tolerant of anything other than man and wife.
Then came the war, with its full measure of heartbreak and horror. For Natasha was Bosnian, and Darija was Serbian – and Serbians were in the minority, and looked upon with distrust. Whether it was because she was a journalist, a Serb, a woman, or a lesbian – Natasha never found out. But Darija lost her job, and then was simply and completely disappeared.
There were no goodbyes.
* * * * *
She could not openly mourn. The loss of a colleague, a little – but only as one who had already ‘been downsized’. Talking openly about the disappeared was likely to get you disappeared yourself, and as the atrocities piled higher and higher, Natasha found herself beginning to tread numbly through the carnage. She photographed everything, saw nothing. Felt less. Was a good little worker bee.
Alone.
Until the day they found her screaming on the street. Screaming her lovers name. Screaming and screaming and screaming. So they disappeared her as well.
* * * * *
Natasha has no idea how she came to leave Bosnia, or why her battered Leica camera was the only thing to come with her. She has no idea how or when she lost her tongue. She is unable to remember if, while she was disappeared, there was torture, psychiatric care, or something better or worse.
She doesn’t know if Darija is alive or dead.
She has no photographs of Darija.
She lost five and a half years, in total. But she found herself again.
* * * * *
In Natasha’s private space at Sodom, she has her own darkroom in a converted ensuite, which she uses to print the photographs she deems the best. She has a few – a very few – images on her walls. She thinks of them as Memory, captured as works of art.
But when, on those rare occasions, she pleasures herself, it is always Darija with her. Darija’s tongue tracing her labia. Darija kissing her. Darija’s lovely arse lowering onto her face. She has albums of Darija in her memory, and at her fingertips – and as she comes in a roaring o of pleasure, it is with Darija’s name on her lips.
For while every photograph is homage, every orgasm is remembrance.
* * * * *
I am curious…. would you go to Sodom?
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