The Club Owner’s Troubles by Lance Edwards
Dara Dupree was a Caribbean street girl and prostitute who rose to wealth and power running the most popular fetish club in the islands. To treat herself upon reaching such success, she buys an adolescent male to conceal in an underground apartment below her estate.
She settles in to live out all her dreams of slavery and domination, and to slowly expose Drew, a virgin raised in ignorance of anything but his training, to all the amazing challenges and rewards his life will demand. So it goes with emotional up and downs, until competition with a rival nightclub owner escalates into a conflict that sees her club burned to the ground and Dara kidnapped by gangsters.
While she faces death and all the torture and sexual abuse she’d been inflicting on Drew, he is left alone bound and secreted underground to face a lingering, even more grisly end. In their separate desperate straits they resolve the personal issues that had been afflicting them, and escape to find eventual triumph and love together.
Contains tons of bondage, torture, orgasm denial, strap-on and mechanized sex along with unbridled worship of the female. Ending involves degradation, drug use and watersports.
Determined to stay on top of the competition I’ve acquired another double-fucker. Identical to the device in my subterranean paradise, I have this one shipped to the club.
To the left of the main stage, between this and the bar and in front of the hallway leading back to the dressing room and offices is a smaller, secondary stage. This is circular, about ten feet in diameter, and is capable of a slow rotation. In addition to the cages that hang from the ceiling this is meant to provide entertainment for the patrons between shows.
Usually a lone dancer performs there, or I set up a Colonial-era pillory. Bent over with her neck and wrists locked in stocks and her ankles shackled out wide one of my girls will have to endure a shift there. Spread-legged and whimpering she’ll turn slowly around, her breasts dangling down and her ass and pussy thrust invitingly out. Now to everyone’s relief I have the new double-fucker set up there instead. Mounted on the wall above and behind it, visible to all, is a kind of scoreboard that will display the machine’s settings as well as other information.
I wait until nine o’clock before I have Slut-boy’s box brought out. As usual this is greeted with wild cheering, which turns to expectant murmuring as it’s carried up onto that circular stage. The scoreboard is dark and the double-fucker hidden by a black silk covering, so no one knows quite what to expect. When I step out of the shadows, up onto the stage and suddenly into the spotlight I’m wearing black boots, matching leather gauntlets and an executioner’s half-hood. The collar about my neck and the cup-less brassiere harnessing up my bare breasts are both of black leather too and set all about with glittering steel spikes. Other than that I wear only that gigantic strap-on cinched about my crotch. Its massive length and girth, while still terrifying to anyone with an orifice, actually looks proportionate to my hourglass hips, thick thighs and butt.
A communal gasp greets the sight of this, followed by shrieks and laughter and a babble of excited banter. When I dramatically whip away that concealing drape pandemonium ensues.
The appearance of gleaming restraints, wires and clamps, armatures and mechanisms and especially those giant copper cocks facing in toward each other nearly causes a riot. The bar and dance floor and even many of the tables are rapidly abandoned as people either crowd in for a closer look or move from the periphery to see what the hubbub is. With only a circle of rope separating it from the raised stage, the electricity gripping the crowd has my nipples stiffening and tingling as I flash a brilliant smile and bend over to unlock and open Slut-boy’s box.
Tonight he is bound only by chromed-steel cuffs and chains. As I pull him upright by the ponytail protruding from the crown of his hood and unlock these they fall to the floor with a ringing clatter. Now unrestrained but for his hood and chastity sleeve Slut-boy submits meekly as I bend him over and pull him by the hair to the double-fucker. When I secure his head in the cradle he doesn’t need to see or hear to know what’s expected of him next. Blindly he raises his arms willingly up high behind him. After I stretch these further up and back and lock his elbows together and his wrists into the manacles provided he similarly spreads his legs. Without any prompting he stretches out until he’s practically doing a split and his feet find the conductive plates. Once I have secured these with the waiting shackles he gives an eloquent shudder of resigned dread mixed with hopeless arousal.
The crowd may not know exactly what’s coming up but Slut-boy certainly does! As I rise back upright I give his intricately welted ass a resounding slap and address the audience. My amplified voice booms out over the babble.
“Citizens of the Queendom of Pepper and Sugar! We have here a contemptible male peon found guilty of being an offense to femininity!
“As an avowed and eager slut who has confessed his love of being fucked in the butt, I hereby condemn him to an entire night on the electrocuting double-fucker! Before the scorn of the populace he will have both his greedy holes pounded non-stop by these electrified cocks. In addition let him suffer constant shocks to the soles of his feet, his endlessly twisted nipples and squashed balls, the tip of his forever impotent penis and both the interior and exterior of that offending appendage as well! I call on you all to witness the punishment due any male who dares to enjoy the daily bludgeoning of Goddess Dara’s gargantuan organ!” I pause here to stroke that enormous erection significantly as awed excitement continues to roil the boisterous crowd.
“Ladies, I urge you to adopt this most appropriate sanction for the men in your own life. Males, consider the justice of this and observe the eagerness with which Slut-boy suffers the penalty of his perversion. With proper training you too could learn to love being buggered by such a monstrous cock, and even suffering the electrocuting double-fucker in response. Watch now as I apply the necessary contacts and prepare those penises for penetration!”
To more cheering and excited buzzing I swing out the tit-twisting mechanism with its toothy clamps and trailing wires. Being careful not to obstruct the view I clamp and stretch out the least of Slut-boy’s most sensitive and erogenous spots, explaining every step of the procedure for the edification and excitement of the audience. They are suitably amazed already. Next I fit the testicle fetter over his collared balls and tighten down the plates until they are crushed quite oblate. I alligator-clip both the head of his penis and the metal of the sleeve sheathing it – I’ve decided not to use the built-in battery. As I grease up the urethral probe (this one curved and a bit shorter than the one at home since his chastity sleeve prevents any erection) I continue to call attention to every nuance of Slut-boy’s preparation.
“This organic lube I’m using – which will also coat the punishment pricks and be pumped into Slut-boy’s pleasure portals at regular intervals – is mentholated and impregnated with habanera pepper extract. Thus we simulate the infernal burning of the demonic cocks that such an unabashed slut will eventually suffer forever in the afterlife. Yet despite his certain damnation to Satan’s domain, you may note that the head of Slut-boy’s eternally virginal penis is even now grossly swollen with arousal. Were it ever to be freed of its sleeve I assure you this unworthy organ would immediately leap into more intense rigidity than even that which is currently straining at the seams of the jeans of every other male in attendance.
“Ladies, I advise you now to run your hands over the groins of the males you have with you. I believe you’ll find an intense craving for them to be similarly rendered into shamelessly fawning slaves and identically condemned butt-sluts. That being the case, you may consult any of the cocktail napkins in use tonight. Printed there you will find the internet address of the company that produces the device you see before you.”
Grinning at the rustling, giggling, and protests that ensue I slide that probe up Slut-boy’s pee-hole to disbelieving gasps and the sympathetic groaning of the men even now trying to slap their dates’ hands away from the evidence of their own excitement. Lubing and moving into place those piston-mounted, five centimeter-wide copper cocks I insert one into Slut-boy’s anus and the other through the hole over his willingly opened mouth. With everything ready then I slap his ass once more and turn to the control panel.
As I begin tapping in commands the scoreboard above lights up, with individual readouts displaying the level of baseline current programmed for each cock and contact. Further indicators will record the intensity and duration of each random spike in amperage. When I flick the master switch and those two metal pricks begin their rapid plunging in and out, other numbers flash up on the board: a digital clock keeping a running count of the seconds, minutes and hours of the condemned’s punishment along with the speed at which each cock is currently thrusting. And of course every time those big metallic pricks pump their hot slippery load into Slut-boy’s face and ass this will be announced by a further flashing of lights and an amplified orgasmic groan.
The shrieks and cheers, laughter and amazed excitement all around seem to literally explode as Slut-boy begins shuddering and juddering under the impetus of those pounding cocks and simultaneous shocks. Even the rapid twisting of his nipples prompts screams of disbelief. Cell phones are held up everywhere as the clamoring throng records pictures and video to convince skeptical friends of the wonders to be witnessed at my incredible club. For a while I add the jiggling of my breasts and the bobbing of my monster cock to the spectacle by lashing Slut-boy’s ass with a riding crop as the stage begins to slowly rotate. As the audience gawks at the condemned’s extreme but still obviously welcome punishment from every angle, applause swells all around and a chanting of “God-dess Da-ra! God-dess Da-ra!” pays tribute to my sovereignty and the unmatched entertainment I provide. At last I take an acknowledging bow, leap lightly to the ground and duck under the protective rope at the rear to receive the even more enthusiastic acclaim of my employees.