Tales from the sUsPiRiA Club (a sex anthology) [MM, FM, FF, ETC]

MonsterLuvr

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The sUsPiRiA Club.

Essentially the closest thing we goths, rivetheads, and various creatures of the night had to an equivalent to Studio 54.

The club looked like the set of a Marilyn Manson video. There were men and women in cages who were either dancing (either our kind of dancing or the bad kind, albeit ironically in the latter sense) or scowling and writhing.

In one corner near the ceiling, there was a female mannequin buried in barbed wire, a nod to the club's namesake.

Above the bar, more mannequins were posed and covered in fake blood and hung from the ceiling by black metal chains, like something from Hellraiser.

The bartender, a minxy little thing who called herself Nightshade served up a drink called a Bathory Blitz, which was red wine mixed with tomato juice, licorice (which was actually toxic in high doses) and pomegranate seeds.

I slunk over to my favorite table against the wall, listening to some all-dyke Skinny Puppy cover band blaring out a total assault to the non-deaf.

I saw a few of my... we'll call them "friends", even though I'd rather see them all do a swan dive into broken glass... at the table waiting for me.

My name is Kasaandra. And around the table were the other people in my sex story club. We all met weekly and told real-life sex stories, mostly ones that happens to us.

I slid into the seat next to Betti Bleck, a drag queen who though he was Rose McGowan in The Doom Generation. I hated him, simply because we were so much alike.

Across from the table was Steffi, an S&M goddess in blue leather. As always, she went first, I went last, and everyone else went in between.

"Okay," she started.

"This story is something I've been saving for a rainy day. But it's LA, and those don't happen enough, so here goes."

COMING SOON: STEFFI PRESENTS "THE BOY FROM UTAH"

Steffi loves S&M. She never does it with anyone outside of the types that haunt the sUsPiRiA Club, until her eyes wandered to a young Mormon man, who may prove that maybe Mormons aren't as prudish as we think.
 

MonsterLuvr

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Steffi presents:
THE BOY FROM UTAH

Pain is my game.

It's my drug.

It's my life.

It's my one true love.

And I am it's mistress.

No person, man or woman, could withstand my sadistic pleasures... until HE came along.

It all happened a few months ago. I had just turned a tough, young jock who looked like Zac Efron into a sniveling bitch boy. He was part of a long line of submissives that made me think that maybe I was losing my touch. This guy was the weakest of the crop, screaming the safe word at the first glance of my bike chain cat-o'-ninetails. Little sissy FUCK!!!

I decided to go for a walk and find someone else to finish off, since this kid was like watered-down foreplay.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

"Ma'am" was actually the worst thing in the world I've been called, and I've been called things that even Lillith herself would not say.

The words came from a voice to my left. The owner was a rather attractive young man, puckish yet with some subtle maturity. He had short brown hair and a nice body dressed in a white dress shirt and tie, with dark slacks.

"Don't call me, 'ma'am'. I'm no older than you. I'm only 33."

I lied. I'm really 38.

"Well, then, I shouldn't call you 'ma'am', since you're younger than me. I'm actually 39."

Christ, this guy looked like he was only 20, and he was pushing 40! He kinda reminded me of Steve from "Blue's Clues", but much hotter.

"I know you didn't just reference 'Blue's Clues'."
"Bitch, who's telling the mother-assraping-fucking story, here, huh?"


"Well, I would like to tell you about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."

Yep, he was a Jesus freak.

"I don't do religion. I'm agnostic. So... what are you?"
"Mormon, miss. Just moved here from Utah."

Figures, Utah churns out more Mormans than that Jolie wannabe with all the kids.

"So, what are you doing out at this hour?"
"Well, I figure that most of the souls that need saving come out at night, and who needs salvation more than souls like yours?"
"Like mine?"
"You know, harlots and jezebels."

I know I dress like a whore, but basically calling me one? And does he think that words like "harlot" and "jezebel" make it sound better? Were he to say that to a real whore, he'd get his throat slashed and shoved in a dumpster.

"I'm not a whore, dude."
"Oh, sorry miss."

He was so polite. So kind. So pure of heart.

I just found myself something to tide me over. He may not last more than a few minutes, but I figure he's gotta be some kind of fun. In fact, freaking him out might even make it even more fun.

I then asked him if he wanted to come over to my place.

"I'll let you try to convert me, but on one condition."
"Yes?"
"I get to preach MY good news to YOU first."
"Sure, I guess there's no harm in that."

Sucker.

The walk wasn't very long, but it felt like forever with this sweet angel following me. Since he's so weak, I'll have to start off small. Who knows? I might even be able to finally use those new toys I invented.

That's one thing that set me apart from other S&M enthusiasts... all of my toys, if not a great deal of them, are handmade.

As agreed, I'd preach to him first.

I led him into my "playroom". I knew the place like the back of my hand, so I could just lead him to the shackles in the center of the room without turning on the lights.

"Say, what's going on? Are you going to tell me about your agnostic beliefs in the dark?"
"No."
"Say... what are you doing with my hands?"
"You'll see."

And then, with him hanging in shackles, I stripped off my long coat and into my Mistress outfit.

And then a flick of the lightswitch, and it was too late for our little Mormon.

"W-w-what's going on here?"

He looked around at the Godless tools of my trade and he knew that I wasn't interested in hearing about the "good" news.

"Welcome to my lair, little Mormon. I am the Mistress, and you are my new plaything. If you are too much of a worm for my perverse pleasures, just say the safe word... 'jabbywocky'."
"What is this?"
"My dear little churchmouse. I am a dominatrix. I am in control here. You will feel only what I want you to feel, and I want you to feel pain. Got it?"

I expected him to scream the safe word, not even letting me get started. And then I imagine him running and screaming, seeking solace in the arms of his God. But then, he said...

"Yes, my mistress. Use my body however you please. I am yours to command."

A look was plastered on his face, and I knew that he wasn't some simple, naive little Mormon. He had the look of someone who WANTED to be submissive to my whims.

My little Mormon playmate, as I would learn, was a masochist.


"Well?"
A long pause and then Steffi finally said... "I gotta pee. I'm finish when I get back."
 
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