Red Hot Obsessions (199 page)

I swallowed tightly when he asked, “And your number and choice is?”

I shrugged off my nervousness and said, “I don’t know what this means.” I showed him my card. “Cherry or Bomb? How do I choose? There’s not even a hint there as to what I might be picking.”

“It’s the risk you take, sweetheart.”

“Okay, say I choose,
Cherry
. What happens next?”

“A station attendant will tell you everything you need to know. Wait for your number to be called, which should be in about ten minutes. Is that your choice?”

I cringed. “Uh, I guess. Yeah, sure. What the hell. I’ll choose Cherry.”

He jotted it and my number on the sheet of paper clamped to a clipboard and looked at Shayna who was hiding behind me. “What about you, Rizzo?”

“Thank yooouuu! At least someone gets my costume.”

I sneered. Rizzo? Really? Sandy I could see.

She elbowed me as she stepped out from behind me. She dryly choked out, “Um, Number 21. Double Dipped.”

“Looks like you’re up before your friend, Sweet Cheeks.” He winked at her. “Have fun, ladies.”

The two cats on his lap returned to devouring him, and we spun away to take in the horrors and delights. The first scene to snag my eye was a blindfolded guy standing in the center of the room, hands tied together and pulled up over his head with a rope that attached to a chandler. His pants and underwear hugged his ankles and his hard cock stuck out in front of him. Girls and guys took turns tickling him with scarves, feathers and fingers. He couldn’t otherwise move besides a wiggle here or there. I cringed for him. No freaking way. I’d die. Absolutely die. That was hell right there. To be stripped down
and
tied up with no way to evade tickles. I hate,
hate
to be tickled. No thanks. I’d much rather have pain.

It was like a carnival of freaks in here, with people moving from exhibit to exhibit.

“Ohmygosh. He’s naked. I’ve never, uh...” Shayna bent over like a teapot. “Hmph. Don’t you think guys kind of look like dogs. I mean, with the arms like ears, nipples as eyes, belly button nose and a tongue hanging out.”

I laughed. “No, that never crossed my mind, Shaynut. I love physiques in general. Even chubby ones.”

As he squirmed in abject horror, I nodded. Yeah, I’d take pain over that any day.
Absolute hell!

And speaking of pain, I was next drawn to a small, tanned girl bound with ropes on an ottoman, her fringed Indian skirt flipped up, bare, red butt exposed. Turquoise feathers splayed from behind a black scarf covering her eyes and mask, and black hair that may or may not have been hers parted at her neck and draped over her shoulders. A tilted-down halogen light on a stand spotlighted her in soft white light. She was trapped in the shape of a bean, legs tucked under.

People took turns spanking her ass with a plethora of objects: paddles, slippers, belts. I was awestruck.

My loins boiled as I watched her bellow out at the parade of implements to cross her cheeks. She shouted out often, but she wasn’t crying, not a single sob, no matter what smashed into her flesh or how hard someone hit her. And I doubted anyone else in the room could detect it because it was oh-so-subtle, but every once in a while, one of her wavy bellows held a trace of something more than a response to pain. They shot out, wrapped in a scant moan of ecstasy. And that’s what had me riveted. She was loving this. I was sure of it. I’d bet my life on it.
This
was my true sister, and she was so much more controlled than me. One day, I hope I can be this strong. That’s what I wanted a Dom to find, unwrap and release within me. Strength and fortitude. Had she been trained by someone very caring, someone with a stern, firm hand, to take punishment so well? My fingers itched. I licked my lips. As soon as the people thrashing her went elsewhere, I was yanked forward. I zipped over there, as fast as my legs could carry me.

“What are you doing?” Shayna cried out from behind me.

I bent at Indian girl’s side and clutched her head with a spread-open palm. “Have you been a bad girl?” I said gruffly in her ear. My wig curls fell forward and whisked her face. I flicked them back over my shoulder with my other hand. I was so hot and shaking to know I could be right. I had to be. I had never encountered possible kin before.

She shook her head, no, and insisted verbally too, but I doubted that very much and slid my row of fingers between her legs and flat up into the folds of her desire.
Liar.
She “aaahhed” and pressed her soaked flesh down on my touch.

“Mmm, wrong answer, Pocahontas. You little slut liar. You’re a very bad girl. You’re enjoying every minute of this. And I know … because I’d be loving this too.”

A fresh wave of juice surrounded my fingers.

“Ah-ha. See? I know. You’re such a naughty liar. And now, I’m going to punish you for lying to me and for being such a spank-whore. I’m going to set your ass on fire.”

I rubbed her red cheeks with the softest strokes, reached my hand back and sighed when I crashed my palm into the left one as hard as I could.

She shook and shrilled.

Amazing! I got a sweet taste of what it was like to be someone like Logan. And I liked it! It was beyond delicious. I gritted my teeth and hit the other side.

That time her moan-cry emerged all fuck-me-up alley cat, which drove me wild.

I fired more spanks into her cheeks, alternating from side to side. I hit her faster and harder, falling into a frenzy, and my hand began to sting. I didn’t care. I loved the heat beneath it and the way her flesh bounced each time mine met hers. I was making her shout out all kinds of feral noises and words, and it felt so, so good to be sending this girl to heaven with my palm. I may lean sub, I may crave to be controlled and crushed and reshaped into someone else’s vision because I know a beautiful phoenix will ascend from the rubble when the smoke clears, but I just discovered something new about myself, something I had absolutely no clue about:
I’m a switch spanker.
What a glorious revelation! Warmth washed over me and was molten by the time it reached my fuck zones. I snatched up a wooden spoon.

Evidently now emerged from the shock I’d surely sent her into, Shayna was shaking as she jerked on my arm. “My god. Are you insane? A wooden spoon? What are you doing to her? Stop! Let her go. We’re up next and have no clue what we’re even in for. How would you like someone to treat
you
that way? She can’t even move.”

I’d love it,
I thought with a burn in my chest. But like any closeted spanko, I said, “You’re right,” and put down the implement. I bent and muttered, “Hottie alert,” in the girl’s ear when I spotted a cute, built guy in a football uniform making his way over. I picked up the spoon again, and he grinned at me when I handed it to him. I glanced at the digital countdown clock by the girl, grabbed his arm and pulled him close to me. “Her time’s almost up. Finger-fuck her juicy, swollen cunt when you’re done giving her the spoon. Don’t leave the poor girl in want.” I laughed as his grin melted into a gawk. Yes! Exactly the reaction I’d hoped for. I did not, however, appreciate the chiding look I got from Shayna when I turned my focus her way.

“What the heck’s wrong with you? Are you some kind of freak?”

“Some kinda, yeah,” I admitted.
Whatever.
I didn’t give two cents what she thought.

“I’m worrying about going to hell for this, and you’re jumpin’ into a spank-a-thon? Her poor butt. Why on earth would you do that?”

“It looked inviting, and she was right there for the taking. I wanted to try it. We’re here to have fun. You won’t go to hell, Shay. You don’t believe in fickle salvation that gets canceled out for random reasons. This is being wild for one night. You can always ask for forgiveness, right? And if it
is
wrong, like you say, ‘grace abounds’. And
you
could be jumping into a spank-a-thon too, Number 21, on the receiving end, with the almighty Double Dipped pick, whatever the hell that is.”

“Don’t remind me.” She rubbed her own bottom in some empathetic reaction. “Ow. Man, I feel so bad for that girl. There are probably psychos in here getting off on her pain. It’s so twisted how there are actually people in the world who are into that sort of thing, don’t ya think?”

“Twisted indeed.”

And just like that, Shayna’s number came out of the speakers, but she seemed to have missed it.

She looked at me, tears in her eyes, lips quivering. “I always try to be a good girl, but sometimes, I just crave to let go and be wild and I can never do it. I’m in college now. I need to grow up. I’m determined this time.”

“Yeah, go be human for once, Shay. You can go back to being a religious robot tomorrow.” I nodded and smiled at her as she raised her hand and waved, as others before us had done. “Your number was called. You’re up. I think that girl’s looking for you.”

Shayna turned, following my gaze.

After my wave and point, a girl skipped up to her and sang, “Number 21?” When Shayna nodded, she said, “Great. Hi. Come with me.”

I followed after them. She was brought into a smaller bedroom on the first floor, maybe a maid’s room or something. At least she had semi-privacy for whatever was coming her way. The 9'x11' room, with its white and pastel explosion, was dimly lit from the illumination of a Tiffany lamp in the corner. The wall of toys and pain contrasted harshly with the shabby chic décor.

“Number 21, your time is twenty minutes. Thank you for choosing Double Dipped. Anything done to you must be delivered by two people at the same time in synchronicity. Possible activities are toy use, spanking, massage, finger insertion and oral stimulation anywhere. Anal and intercourse are not allowed at this party. Only those approved by a house leader or the RINGMASTER, denoted by red bands, are allowed to engage in oral and mouth kissing, and your doorkeeper, known as Melanie tonight, will screen entrants and monitor activities. Take your panties off please and follow the directions of your guests. You may keep the rest of your clothes on, but know that people are allowed to reach into them or lift them out of the way at will.” She handed Shayna a buzzer to hold in her hand. “At any time, if something is beyond your comfort level, you can exit your session by pressing this, but you must leave the party immediately. Do you understand the rules?”

Shay tested it and nodded but looked close to vomiting again as she scanned the wall of kink.

I had some of those items in my box at home. She’d pass out–Pass. Out.–and beg God for my deliverance if she knew I owned toys, especially that fat, pink paddle with the penis-shaped handle.

The gaze she burned into my eyes pleaded with me to chuck her out the window or something, but I wiggled my finger at her to take off her panties and get on with it.

She cringed and groaned as she reached up under her skirt, slid them down and stepped out of them. Sobs bubbled behind her clamped, wavering lips. She double-folded the full-bottomed, granny panties and set them on the vanity. At least she wasn’t being stripped down and bound. She had to be relieved about that. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad for her.

“Very good,” Melanie said. She set the printed, framed rules on the desk, lit some dessert candles and turned on soft music. “It’ll smell like cupcakes in a couple of minutes. A little aromatic ambiance. This is my first time at this station. I hope you like it.”

Shayna nodded. “Yes, it’s nice and cozy. Thanks for aiming to make me comfortable.”

She spun Shayna around and blindfolded her with a scarf. “Now that that’s set, get on your hands and knees, up on the bed please.”

Shayna patted the mattress, feeling her way, and climbed up onto it and bent down. I’m sure she had no idea that resting on her forearms like she was, chest pressed down, legs apart and butt lifted, that it put her bottom in such a nice, spankable presentation. She looked to be begging for punishment or a good pounding in either hole. Her long, rayon-spandex skirt stretched across her cheeks and went concave down her crack and in between her legs. I gawked that I could see puffiness and a small, wet dot growing there.
Uh, that dirty slut!
I smacked my mouth to keep from laughing aloud. She definitely needed this. I wondered which thing about this was turning her on. Maybe everything.

The attendant started her time and yelled, “Twenty-one is open.”

“Bye, Twenty-one. Have a good time,” I said and smacked the doorjamb, but I entered the room further and motioned for Melanie to join me in selecting Shayna’s first set of twin toys. We agreed on mini vibrators.

Once flanked on either side of her, we inched her skirt up together. It clung to her curves as it traveled up her legs and over her bottom. With that out of the way and her privates exposed, we scraped our fingernails up and down her thighs. She winced and shivered. Her limbs wobbled, and she began to sniffle. I knew it was because she was feeling guilty, feeling so guilty because she didn’t expect this to be turning her on. And it was. Turning her on.

Our dance of fingers shifted to her cheeks and teased along the edge where three erogenous zones converged: butt, thighs, pussy. She was bobbing a little, searching us out, aching for a cram. We finally slid our fingers closer to where she wanted but made the trek to the slit between her legs a ten-second journey. We turned our hands over so the underside of our index fingers could glide across her lips. We sawed hands forwards and backwards, first along her on her outer lips, then the inner sticky, slick ones. She gasped when we dipped our pinkies into her hungry hole. This bad girl was sporting the evidence of some major arousal. As we continued our dual massage, pressing deeper into her in unison with bigger fingers, her breaths started hitching and moans rolled across her tongue.

After loosening up her tightness, we switched the mini-vibes on, slid our fingers out and drove the jittery digits up into her quivering hollow. Not expecting that, but unmistakably loving it, she howled like a ghost and bounced down, taking them in even deeper.
Bad, bad, Shay.
We pressed in and out, in and out. She started pouring.

We did it for a couple minutes, and she mewed and moaned the whole time.