Success and Stress

The weekend went smoothly, Westin and Christine moved her into his home, and spent the time more as a man and woman than as a master and slave. She went braless the entire time because her breasts bore the marks of their play. They had all her things in the house by Sunday afternoon, and had placed a good number of her possessions in his empty third garage bay. Together they agreed to hold her belongings there for six months before selling to a local consignment store.

Monday was a typical Monday in the world of business. Westin entertained analysis reports for his flagship account, and Christine chased her loans trying to close them before her two weeks ended. As both sat at their desks that Monday they were wanting deeply to play again, but with the schedule so full of necessities of work there was no time.

Westin was sitting at lunch in the executive dining room, enjoying a rare moment of peace at work when his cellular phone started announcing that he was receiving a call.

“Westin Banks.” He said professionally.

“Mr. Banks, this is Marci from the store.” He had put the number on the order forms for his custom clothing. However, actually getting a call this early was not expected.

“Yes hello Marci, what can I do for you? Is there a problem with my orders?” He stood from his club sandwich, and walked to a window for a bit of privacy, there were only two other occupants, but Westin figured better safe than sorry.

“No not at all, I just wondered if you would be planning on attending the club tomorrow night like we discussed.”

“I have it in mind to go, absolutely. We should be there around nine pm.” Of course he planned to go, he had said he would. What was this woman up to? His mind was a blur of concentration as his eyes absently examined the city below the office building.

“Well I found something that may interest you. Apparently there's going to be a rope bondage specialist there who is proficient at suspension work, and I thought you'd be interested in having Christine experience it.”

The idea of Christine helpless in the air before him was very appealing.

“I think that works for me. Can you have it all arranged?” He kept his wording business like to avoid any curiosity.

“I'll handle everything. You two are going to enjoy it. I'll see you then.”

The phone was dead in his ear before he could say goodbye.

The rest of the day and most of Tuesday passed rapidly. Too exhausted and too busy for play, they both eagerly anticipated Tuesday evening. Westin had decided that it would not be in either of their best interest to dictate that she play with others, so he had mentioned to Christine about the bondage artist, and she was eager to try it.

At five-thirty Tuesday afternoon, Christine walked into the door, stripped her business clothing into the laundry basket they had agreed on, and slipped on her cuffs and collar. She then went upstairs to find a long note from him on the fainting couch. Stretching out luxuriously she began to read.

Darling Christine,

Tonight, I expect you will be able to wear your “house” cuffs and collar, since it is fetish night. I want you to wear the white peasant shirt, with a black skirt, nothing too tight. Wear white underneath, and the black platform heels four or six inch, your choice. No hosiery, limited makeup, and let your hair hang. We will be expected there at, nine o-clock. Be ready to walk out the door thirty minutes after I get home. Our normal home dress code need not apply to night, as we will be in a hurry.

Quickly she went to the closet to find the items he wanted, settling on the four inch heels incase she would be expected to do more than walk a few steps. Laying them all on the bed she started a large bubble bath, and opened her makeup case on the expansive bathroom counter.

Forty minutes later, she had put her cuffs and collar back on, and was slipping into a sheer white thong that buried itself between her cheeks in the back, and gave away her naturally red bush in the front. She had trimmed it in the tub to ensure it would not stick out of the underwear, and it was just the faintest of a landing strip now. Next she put on the matching sheer white bra, her breasts completely visible through the front, and the tops of her aureole peeking over the top of the half cups. He was going to go berserk when he took her top off tonight, she knew it. Next she put on a flat black skirt that fell just to her calf (it was the only long skirt he had allowed, because it flattered her so well.). Quickly she zipped up the back, and put her arms through the shirt. It's wide slightly lacy collar allowed her to reveal the tops of her shoulders, and an ample amount of her displayed cleavage. After that it was just a matter of slipping on the black calf length platform heels. She had to remove her ankle cuffs when she made the decision to wear them, but on a lark fastened them over the boots for what she felt was quite a dramatic effect.

She was going to look awesome for him, and as she went to apply some light make up, she thought perhaps she'd be sure to “earn” a spanking while they were out. Eight o'clock came, and went before he showed up. At eight twenty five he walked through the door in a panic just to see Christine standing there waiting for him. She had a long leather leash in her hands, and was holding it out to him.

“I guess I don't have time to change do I?” Still he smiled at her. She was ravishing to him, everything he wanted in a woman. His pride and his dick began to swell

Grasping the leash he led her out to the Porsche. Settling into the front seat, he removed her leash, and placed it in the back seat. They got to the club slightly late arriving at around nine-ten, and parked in an open spot near a light.

When they were both outside the car he looked at her ravishing form again, and thought about how they were hopelessly mismatched. He had wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt to dress accordingly, but now was reduced to removing his tie in the parking lot in order to not dress entirely too formal.

Christine had no concern whatsoever for fashions, and was looking at the little Goth college types, and other bondage fans in the lot. Most had one or two facial piercings, and one woman was walking her man on a leash, his head completely concealed in leather save for two holes where his nostrils must be.

Moments later Westin finally shut his door, and walked around to Christine, fingering the car alarm with his left hand he grasped her wrist with his right. Noting her ogling of the other people around he felt a little jealous at not being the center of her attention at the moment.

At the front door to the club he paid their cover charge, and they both accepted the stamps on their hands to verify their age as over twenty-one years. That moment Westin remembered the leash sitting in the back seat of the car. He had wanted to lead Christine around by it.

Deciding to make himself her focus again, he thrust a twenty-dollar bill in her hand.

“I forgot the leash. Get me a drink, whatever non-light beer is on tap, and find Marci. Save me a seat.”

Watching her scurry off in the black skirt, he noticed she had still worn the ankle cuffs despite the shoes. It looked sexy as hell.

It only took him a minute to get to the car and retrieve the leash; he folded it and placed it inside his jacket. On his way back across the parking lot he saw a large man in black leather pants and a black leather executioners style hood. Both items were well made. Following closely behind him was a small woman in a black latex body suit. A brief latex mask covered her eyes. Westin purposefully weaved through the cars to walk directly past the intriguing couple. As they passed he almost didn't notice the large elaborate golden ring on the man's right middle finger. He had seen something similar to it before, but couldn't place where. Looking back up he noticed a slow nod from the other man, but continued on to find Christine.

Back in the club he meandered through the crowd for almost five minutes before seeing Marci seated in a small semi circular booth. The frail looking woman was dresses in a black AC/DC tee, and was waving furiously to him. Second look showed Christine coming toward her from another direction with his drink clutched between both of her hands.

Christine made it to the table a good ten seconds after Westin had seated himself, and over heard Marci speaking.

“I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering her not to spill a drop."

Marci held her palms up in mock surrender incase he was offended, but a slow smile crept across his face. Momentarily Westin had been concerned about coming tonight. Since his arrival however, and speaking with Marci seeing her demeanor and obvious comfort here, he had settled into a good feeling about being here.

“I think you have had much more experience with this than I have. I'm glad to be shown a few new tricks.”

They sipped drinks casually for a few minutes, and Westin told her the details of meeting Christine, and how he had found BDSM on the Internet, and couldn't get enough of it. Marci was gracious and told of her own discovery when Todd had asked her to bite his neck one night when they were making love.

“Marci, pardon my interruption, but where is Todd tonight?” He had been a little surprised at his acceptance of her presence, and lack of concern for Todd's until now.

Grinning Marci dropped her eyes to the tabletop suggestively. It took a few seconds but then Westin leaned back a bit and dropped his head below the table surface, and looked beneath to see Todd motionlessly under the table on all fours in a white tee-shirt and jeans, with Marci's biker boots sticking out of a pair of faded jeans and resting on his back. He was playing the role of footstool, and wasn't bothered in the slightest by it.

“That looks comfortable.” He commented slowly, and motioned for Christine to look. When she stuck her head below to see, gently pulled her back and clipped the leash to her collar.

“I think perhaps we'll dress you in something a little more appropriate for that next time.”

Westin said to Christine as he absently ran a hand through her hair.

He chatted with Marci for a few more minutes and Christine took her cue from Todd's devout obedience to remain silent herself. Westin was going to ask about the rope expert when an exotic looking woman with dark skin and bright blue hair approached their table. Ms exotic was short, perhaps barely five feet, and thin…athletically thin. She had small boobs that pushed at the front of her yellow tank top that read ‘STAFF' on the front. A brief nametag declared her as ‘Tara – hostess'.

“Hi Marci” She dropped to a squat and beamed under the table.

“Hiya Todd” Standing quickly again she began to speak more. The girl was probably in her early twenties, and had clearly had to bleach her hair liberally before applying the electric blue dye. No one with that olive of a skin tone could be expected to be blonde.

The hair was trimmed short above her ears in a boyish bob. Her dark eyes and smooth face contrasted severely with the hair color, and tongue stud he saw flashing in her mouth as she spoke. Westin found her quite interesting as she continued.

“Hope you guys are having fun. I just got finished with the door, so my job's pretty much over. We're going to begin soon and I wanted you to know everything's cool. He'll be expecting someone from this table to stand when he asks.” With that she winked at Christine and held out a small hand to Westin.

“I'm Tara.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Westin Banks, and this is Christine.” Westin was really pleased to meet her, and was very certain that she was Marci's connection to this.

“Why don't you join us since you're done for the evening Tara?” Marci had spoken up this time.

“Sound's good to me.” She squeezed in next to Marci, and put her hands on the table.

“By the way, I asked the guys at the door to make sure that your car would be ok after I noticed you were with Marci. I figure a friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

Westin thanked the newcomer, and conversation went on to reveal that she was finishing her college degree soon, and that she had been organizing these club nights for the fetish community for a few years. Westin was surprised to learn that there was a good five hundred dollars or more, a night in it for her and figured that this not-quite-graduated college girl was pulling down almost thirty grand annually working one night a week.

Shortly after a brief and somewhat guarded description of his work the five of them were greeted audibly by the sounds of a gong.

A smallish stage was revealed when two curtains parted a good twenty feet in front of their table, and a wiry blonde man in a pair of black leather briefs stepped out.

“Greetings and welcome to my show of ropes and bondage.” The man's voice was eager, and a little squeaky.

“Well this may not be incredible as advertised, but it'll be somewhat public.” Marci mused to Westin, who had also been a little depressed to see that the somewhat unprepared man was now unceremoniously tossing items out of his trunk. The crowd was already back to their socializing.

“I was told that there is already a subject for my trade?” He was scanning the audience now. Maybe fifty percent were still watching him.

Westin watched as Christine stood, still eager and walked up to the stage. The wiry man was not impressed to see the non-model thin woman coming to the stage.

“Ah…yes” He intoned as he slipped back off stage leaving Christine standing there with Westin shrugging at her. Thus far the show was very unimpressive.

Seconds later he came rolling back into view pushing a scaffold type structure with casters at its base onto stage.

“Tonight I will show you a fascinating suspension I learned traveling through Tibet.”

He continued as he went about locking the wheels of the structure.

If he has even got a passport, I'll give him the Porsche.

To the moment Westin was getting irritated at the man's behavior, he hadn't once acknowledged Christine's presence, and had even looked a bit malicious when he was walking off to fetch his contraption. Now he was picking up several pieces of rope. The rope man began by tying her legs together in a sort of spider web, which actually did look interesting. The webs crisscrossed the skirt, and he eventually tied it off over her belly…tightly. Next he tied her arms behind her back, and ran the web of rope far up her arms almost managing to tie her elbows together.

The next moments happened to fast for Westin too ever remember it all. In an instant it felt like, the man had run a rope over his contraption, and tied it to her wrists. Marci had groaned a little, and then as Westin began to stand the man pulled hard, lifting Christine's hands high above her back and pulling her up to her tiptoes. Next thing Westin swore he saw the man muttering something about a heavy bitch, and pulling hard on the rope tied to her hands. Christine shouted her safe word just as her body tilted heavily to her left, an odd misshapen form replacing her left shoulder. The man, not recognizing her safe word, or not caring, continued to try and heave on the rope to get her off her feet.

Marci had yelled Todd's name, and Tara had fled for her security folks in the same instant Westin had started running toward the stage. When he climbed on top of it he managed to cross to the wiry bastard, who had only managed to stare in awe at the business suit that was rushing him. He dropped the rope as Westin neared, and put his hands up defensively in front of his face.

Westin crushed him the way one sees actors shoulder through doors on the movie screen, and then watched as the brief clad form crumpled in a heap after sliding forcibly cross stage. Turning back to Christine he saw Tara and Marci at her side helping her up, looking back at the offender he saw Todd standing coolly between them fists balled, and his back to Westin. Trusting his new friends Westin went to Christine and after throwing his keys at Tara lifted her into his arms. She was crying slightly as she buried her arms in his chest.

Christine hadn't a clue what was going to happen. The man was gentle enough when tying her, but then began savagely tugging the rope and declaring her a ‘fat assed bitch'.

She had called for Westin with cardinal, because she knew he would instantly act, and come to her rescue. Tara and Marci had her in their arms almost as soon as she hit the floor from the rope's release, and Todd had been screaming at the man through out the affair. He was still loosing profanities when Westin had picked her up and carried her to the car.

Tara meanwhile was shocked at the rigger man's behavior, and had accompanied Westin and Christine in the cramped back of the Porsche. Feeling totally responsible as the hostess and coordinator. She had apologized all the way to the hospital. The hostess had liked these two before she had ever met them. Marci had told her about them one day when she had apparently come into the shop roughly an hour after they had set records as the shop's biggest sales, and order in the same hour.

Marci had described them to Tara as being obviously in love, and clearly far, far from living paycheck to paycheck. Both of these descriptions held true when Tara met them. Christine had been sitting calmly looking at Westin when she had approached, and he heart was clearly bared for the man. The second thing Marci had told her was true also. Westin was in complete control…always. He carried an aura quite different from even the professional doms she had met. This man controlled everyone around him at all times. Lifestyle or not, he was accustomed to obedience. She had initially gone after security when she saw the rigger violently pulling the ropes, but Westin's behavior had spurred her differently. She had wanted to help him, and so had run to the stage.

In the hospital, Marci and Todd showed up, their relationship diluted to man and woman also, and both alternating from checking on Christine and blaming themselves to Westin.

A doctor reset Christine's shoulder into its socket right there in the emergency room, and told them all it was nothing to worry about. It would be sore, but she should not have any permanent difficulties with it, save the possibilities of it popping out were now much higher. The doc told her to take it easy for a few weeks, then to see her regular physician, and gave her a series of exercises to perform in order to help strengthen the shoulder and possibly limit the risk of re-injury. Finally he had given her a small dose of Demerol to help with discomfort.

Westin invited them all to accompany them beck to the house, and after stopping by the club to grab Tara's car they caravanned to his home. Christine was feeling less abused, and the shoulder had only really hurt when the doc had reset it. Now it was a dull throb, and she was ready to have guests.

Westin and Christine led everyone through the entry way and to the back of the house where the living room was. Much more of an entertainment room, than a snug cozy room like Westin's bedroom, or study, the living room was a long rectangular room perhaps thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. It had huge eight-foot leather couches arranged in a V in front of a massive television hung on the wall like a plasma filled picture frame. At the end of each couch was a mahogany table including one between where the couches came together. Twelve-foot, floor to ceiling windows ran across the wall behind the couches, and bookcases with odd pieces of art and literature surrounded the wall with the TV. The floor was plush cream-colored carpeting. Marci remarked at the size of the room, but Westin pretended not to hear, and Christine asked if anyone would like coffee.

When she had wandered to the kitchen, Westin took a moment to speak. The other three were spread out on one of the sofas, and beginning to relax, so he didn't want the moment to slip past him.

“I think I owe you all my gratitude. Thank you Todd for preventing me from beating that idiot into a puddle, and thank you girls for getting her down and free of the rope. None of you needed to come to the hospital, or follow us home tonight, but I appreciate it.”

Westin was smooth and heart-felt in his apology.

“Hey I think you guys helped immensely also. Honestly, thanks for sitting with me and helping us tonight. Coffee should be ready in a minute or two.”

Christine had stepped back in and was making her way to Westin's side.

Everyone still felt at fault, when Tara managed to steer the crowd to a familiar subject.

“Westin, you don't think I could see where you guys play do you?”

The blue haired vixen was smiling, and clearly curious.

“We just play in my bedroom, we don't really have too much going on.”

Westin deadpanned.

“Bullshit.” Exclaimed Todd at what he obviously thought was foolish.

“Fine, fine don't believe me. I'll show you what we do have though.”

Reluctantly he led them to the hallway, and flicked on the switch before opening the door to the basement and descending the stairs. He strode neatly into his dungeon, and held his arms wide. Enjoying their impressed looks when thy hit the doorway in turn.

“Here she is. Sir Westin's Dungeon.”

There were several murmurs, as Christine made her way to the center with him, and leaned on his arm. She was clearly using him for more than moral support, and Westin thought maybe he'd better get rid of the guests and allow her to bed.

“You lucky girl!” Todd exclaimed while looking at the walls. Then with a wink to Christine quite intent ally strode on Marci's boot adding another mark to her worn boots.

Marci looked slowly down at the boot, and then slowly up at Todd who continued to ignore the trespass. Finally she looked questioningly at Westin.

“Mi casa es su casa Marci” Westin grinned, and helped Christine to a chair he kept in the dungeon.

Meanwhile Tara was slowly walking up and down the wall of implements taking it all in.

She was clearly surprised that anyone would own so many just for their personal use, and that they had such a developed area having only been playing for a month or so.

Marci's voice knifed through the room like a bullet, and everyone except Westin who had seen her draw the breath for it jumped.

“Slave Todd, you have defiled my boot! Undress and kneel before me!”

She was standing before him with her hands menacingly on her hips. Todd immediately dropped his smile and jerked his shirt over his head and threw it to the side. He was rapidly unbuckling his pants when Westin noticed Christine's eyes had glazed over, and were threatening to close all together. Tara came to his side with a suggestion.

“Why don't you enjoy Marci's work, I'll run her to bed, she can show me the way.”

Westin was hesitant when he saw a slight spark in Tara's eye, but his eagerness to see Todd punished overrode it, and he acquiesced. Todd had now been stripped of all clothing, and wore only his steel collar. Marci had positioned him in front of the same table Westin and Christine had used when they first played in the basement.

“Put it on the table slave Todd.” Marci had ordered, and began to hop up onto the table's surface. Todd placed his flaccid penis on the tabletop, and looked up at his mistress.

“Hands on your head slave.” Todd immediately responded by lacing his fingers together atop his balding scalp.

“My boots are insulted slave, you will have to clean your arrogance off of them, and should your cleaning not impress me I will trod on you the same way I was insulted.”

Marci held one of the black leather boots out placing it on his chest for balance, and eyed her slave as her dropped his chin to lick at the boot.

Westin removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. He was getting hot, and it was a damn shame Christine was in no shape to participate. Sitting in the chair, he envisioned Christine with her tits on the table, kneeling and licking his loafers, hoping to please him so that he wouldn't stamp on her boobs.

Marci was clearly experienced, as was Todd, they moved well together, and even when she claimed the cleaning was sloppy and brought the toe of her foot down on his cock, Westin knew it had grown after the contact. She was now lashing him to the table and simultaneously searching the room for something to stick in his ass. Shortly she found a large candle, and noted aloud how nicely it plugged him, and masked his stench. Arms tied across the table, Todd could do little except keep his head up. Besides that he knew better. He wasn't much of a pain sub, and the penis abuse was about all he could handle. He wasn't going to earn himself more…especially not with the look on Marci's face when they had entered the room. Marci was now undressing, and climbed back up on the table fully nude.

Her body was actually rather pleasing to look at. She wasn't nearly as emaciated as Westin had first thought; perhaps her height altered the look. However, she had a very flat chest, and was built like a blonde rail. Not much ass, and the bumps of her vertebrae were visible beneath her skin. Straddling Todd's face, she locked her ankles over his back, and rested on her elbows commanding him to please her.

“Do a good job slave Todd, or I'll have to light that candle.” Slave Todd however did what was obviously a good job, and Marci's eyes closed with rapture.

“Christine wanted you to read this.” Tara had returned, and held a folded piece of paper in her outstretched hand. A bit surprised Westin reached for it and began to read.

‘Master,

Tara has offered to please you tonight, as I am unable. I'm falling asleep just writing this. Please allow her to be your pleasure tonight.

Christine'

Completely stunned Westin looked up to see that Tara was now kneeling in front of his chair. She looked back coyly, with a half smile on her lips. He did find the exotic looking girl appealing. But he had never once imagined that this lifestyle would lead to the girl he considered his true love encouraging him to seek pleasure in another.

“Whose idea was this?” he questioned.

“Her idea sir, she saw the way I was looking at you, and wanted you to be pleased tonight.”

The way she was looking at me? Did I miss something?

Finally he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and smiled back at her.

“I am not in the mood for any real play or punishment tonight. The evening was a disappointment for me.”

Tara's small hands went to his belt and she scooted forward putting her knees under the chair and spreading his legs. She undid his pants, and slipped his zippered fly down.

“Then just relax and watch those two.” She said as she pulled his member free and dropped her blue hair into his lap.