Bang (A Club Deep Story)(9)

"No." I would try it once, but I can tell from the shiver that goes down  my spine that I'm not the kind of person who wants that. Nothing wrong  with it. Just not for me.

"Leave your clothes here," Hudson says.

I turn around to find him already naked, putting the last of his  clothing on a shelf. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him, and I  remember another one of my fantasies about him and my mouth. Maybe I can  fulfill that one too. He goes out into the room, and I strip, placing  my clothes next to his. The room is cold, and it might be my  imagination, but I think I feel the tiniest bit of a draft. Just like a  real dungeon might have. Club Deep gets points for authenticity. I can't  hear the club music in here with the door closed. It's almost too  quiet, just the sound of both our breathing.

Hudson is standing by a table. Or what looks like a table. It has many  many straps and what looks like adjustable arms. This is the first time  that I've gotten to see him naked from a distance, and I like what I  see. Every part of him is long and lean and tan, and from experience I  know that he's just as firm as he looks. He turns his back to me,  tugging on a strap, and I get look at his ass. I've never been an ass  girl, but he might just convert me.

I approach, drawing my hand down his back. He doesn't startle, just  turns around. I try to mimic that sexy smirk that he gave me just a few  minutes ago. "There's one more thing that I wanted to do," I say softly.

"I'm listening."

"I'd rather show you than tell you," I say. He smiles, recognizing his  words coming from my mouth. That smile transforms into shock as I sink  to my knees.

I grab his cock, and he grabs my wrist, "Christine, you don't have to do that. That's not what tonight's about."

Raising an eyebrow, I stroke along his skin. "I wasn't asking permission. And isn't tonight about what I want?"

He releases my wrist, and I see him swallow. I don't waste any time putting my mouth on him.

"Fuck," he groans. A long, drawn out syllable. If my mouth wasn't  completely full of him, it might make me laugh. His cock is thick and  fills up my mouth as I press down deeper onto him, but he feels just  like I imagined he would. I look up and find him watching me, eyes  filled with lust. I pull back, swirling my tongue around him, and love  the sharp intake of breath I hear. I like the way the muscles in his  stomach jump as he holds himself absolutely still. Down again, and back.  Sucking down, dragging my lips back.

I take as much of him as I can and wrap my hands around the rest,  setting up a steady rhythm. His hands fall into my hair, fingers digging  in just a little harder when I do something that feels good. He likes  it when I use my tongue. I release him, starting at the base and licking  him all the way to the tip like a lollipop. I do it again, and again,  repeating until every inch of his cock has been touched by my tongue.  And then I take him deep again and he groans. His hips thrust forward, I  suck him harder.         

     



 

"Christine," he says. "Stop. Please."

I suck back to the tip and release him from my mouth just long enough to ask him, "Why?"

"Because if you keep going, I'm going to come."

"And?"

He groans, and his fingers tense in my hair again. "And I want to be inside you when I do."

I grin. "I'm not stopping you from doing that. You see, here at Club  Deep we have a policy that a first time blow job can't end before  someone comes." I don't give him the chance to respond. Instead I dive  back down onto his cock, taking absolutely everything I can, and sucking  him hard. It doesn't take long. He's shaking before I even pull my  mouth back, and I tease him with my tongue until he explodes. He cries  out, hips forcing his cock deeper between my lips, and I swallow as he  comes. He tastes like salt and man, and something I imagine is my own  deep satisfaction. The look he gives me is priceless-slack-jawed awe and  pure desire. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to look  just as cheeky as I feel.

"My turn," he says, lifting me up from my knees and straight into the  air. He lays me on the table, and before I can even ask him what the  plan is, there's a strap across my stomach and arms. It tightens,  holding me in place, but not so tight that it hurts. Another strap goes  above my breasts and across my hips. Straps for each thigh, calf, and  ankle. When he's finished the only thing I can move is my head, and  barely. My heart rate spikes knowing there's absolutely no way to get  out of this. I can't catch my breath. I pull against the restraints but  they won't budge. I feel panic rising, and then Hudson is over me.

"Christine, breathe."

I do. The command seemingly forcing air into my lungs. I'm fine. I'm fine. Maybe.

His eyes run up and down me, like he's looking for something. "Club Deep has a safe word. Do you know what that is?"

I take another breath, and the panic recedes with my breath. "I say it and things stop."

"That's right," he says. "It's ‘Red.' Say it for me."

"Red."

He nods.. "All of these rooms are wired with microphones and monitored  by security. If you say it, everything stops. It will get picked up by  security and there will be a monitor and security will be in this room  in ten seconds. But," he smiles. "I hope that you feel safe enough with  me that you won't want to use it."

I nod. I don't think I've ever been tied up like this before. It's not a  familiar sensation, and I'm not surprised that my first instinct was to  panic.

"Does anything hurt?"

Doing a mental check of my body, I don't find anything. If it weren't  unnerving not being able to move, it would almost feel cozy. "No."

He smiles and strokes the side of my face. "Good. What's the safe word again?"

"Red."

He nods, and tugs on the strap above my breasts. "This is much tighter  bondage than you'd have on the St. Andrew's cross. But like you said,  the challenge there is being displayed in front of a lot of strangers.  So this is a different kind of challenge. I think I prefer this."

"Why?" I'm still a little breathless, but now it's more because he's walking around the table, his eyes on my body.

"Because," he grins, "I can do whatever I like." He reaches out and  takes my breasts in his hands, massaging them until the hard peaks are  swollen. "I can touch you," he says, letting his hand smooth across my  skin as he walks up next to my head. I look over and I find that his  cock is fully hard again. I smirk because I knew that him coming  wouldn't be a problem. "I could feed you my cock again," he says. I feel  a gush of wetness between my legs. I wouldn't be able to stop him  unless I said the safe word, and I wouldn't want to. It's … hot.

His hands never leave my skin as he circles the table, touching me as he  pleases. Not to pleasure me, but like he said, to do whatever he likes.  It's the weirdest sensation, like falling asleep while being wide  awake. His hands are soothing, and I relax into the restraints. It  suddenly feels like I've never been more comfortable. I close my eyes  and enjoy the feeling of his fingers on my body, toying and caressing  and tracing.         

     



 

"The thing I like most about this table," he says, stopping at my feet.  "Is that it moves." Grabbing the wood by my feet, he pulls my legs  apart. He strapped my legs in individually, and they part just like he  wants them to. I still can't move, now bound with my pussy wide open to  him. Heat sears through me, and I know he sees how wet I am. "I think  you like this," he says.

"Fuck me and we'll find out."

The smile on his face is wicked. I'm going to find out just how wicked,  because he's rolling on a condom. But he doesn't enter me, he pushes a  finger inside. "I like how wet you get." His fingers curls upward,  reminding me of the last orgasm he gave me. "I'm wondering just how many  times I should make you come."

"Is there a policy for second time visitors?"

Hudson laughs softly. "There isn't, but maybe I should make one." He  adds a second finger. "First time is a minimum of five. Is that what I  said? So I suppose the second time would be a minimum of three." With  his words he adds a third finger and I moan, try to rise my hips to meet  his hand, but I'm completely immobile. Sheer arousal rolls through me.  There's nothing I can do. He's going to do what he wants, and I can't  change it. He's going to make me come as many times as he wants and I  can't stop him. Why does that make me shudder in anticipation and make  my pussy so wet that it's drowning his fingers?

"But maybe I'm wrong," he says, musing. "Maybe it shouldn't be a lower  number. After all, it's your second visit. You should be more used to  it. Able to do more, right, Christine?"

"Right." I can barely speak. My entire being is focused on his fingers  and the way they're pumping in and out of me, steadily faster. It feels  so good, and the pleasure is building in my core just the way he wants  it to. My breath is coming in gasps, everything that much more intense  because I'm trapped.