Marcus: A Black Lily Club Story (2 page)

Chapter 2

Marcus. That’s the name of the man who invited me. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Now, sitting in the booth, I have a better chance to examine him. The candle light glints off his ebony hair like the stars in a midnight sky. It curls seductively at the nape of his neck, brushing the collar of his white button down shirt. The shiny black strands sweep softly across his forehead in thick waves. My fingers ache to run through it. His eyes like the finest whiskey, amber flecked with gold, shadowed by long dark eyelashes that touch his cheeks as he peers down at me. A straight aristocratic nose highlighted by chiselled cheekbones.

My gaze is drawn to the most kissable lips, full and luscious with a perfect cupid’s bow. A five o’clock shadow graces his jawline making him appear more dangerous, than the black leather pants his legs are packed in. The leather clings to him, moving like a second skin, leaving little room for imagination, as he leads me to a corner booth. His white shirt, open at the neck, revealing a smooth and perfect chest, direct from the gods themselves.

He holds my hand as we sit in the booth, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles, the electricity of his touch igniting a slow burn low in my belly. I find it hard to concentrate on mundane conversation as my clit throbs in wanton desire, begging for attention

“Jasmine? What do you do for a living?” His voice filters through the fire racing through my mind.

“I...uh... I run a homeopathic remedy store in town.” I look into his eyes, losing myself in the swirling golden depths. “What about you?”

“I own this club.” His eyes sparkle, pulling me deeper under his spell. “Is there any questions you have about it?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. I mean well I don’t want to sound rude, but I don’t get how this is so different from any other club? The people are just mingling.”

“My dear this is only the social area. We don’t do scenes on this floor.” His laughter floats around me curling around my body, sending shivers down my spine.

“Oh, I see. What other levels are there?” I adjust my position in the booth, pressing my legs together to quell the insistent throbbing of my clit.

“There are private rooms upstairs. They are for patrons who wish to have one on one time together.” He strokes the pad of his thumb over my knuckles, raising goose bumps across my flesh. “There is a lower level, playroom, with different areas set up, depending on one’s fancy.”

“Oh.” I take another gulp of my wine, attempting to wet my own thirst.

“Tell me more about your business. Do you make all the things you sell?” He smiles.

“Yes, I do. I grow all the herbs in my garden at home. I love making things that are good for people and safe.” My heart skips a beat, at his interest in my business.

“You must be very talented to do all of that yourself.”

My face heats and I know I am blushing. “Thank you. I love what I do. It’s a rewarding job.”

He strokes his thumb across my palm, sending electric tingles shooting through my body. Every touch he places on my hand ignites a spark in my belly. My curiosity for the other levels of the club makes my heart pound in my chest. I don’t want to appear too eager, I could lose myself in a place like this. There are safety rules in place, people monitoring and watching the happenings, and safe words that must be adhered too.

Ever since he touched me the first time, my body has ached for him, a slow torturous poison swirling through my system. The lust encompasses me, like a snake coiled around me squeezing the breath from my lungs. The venom scorching through my veins, scalding my blood, Marcus is the only antidote for my passion. My nipples rub into the corset, fighting the restraint. I don’t know what is wrong with me. My hormones have taken up the driver’s seat in my brain, logically reasoning has not place here, lust and desire are in control.

“Would you like me to show you any of the other rooms?” The smile he flashes me tells me knows something, but I’m not sure what.

I nod, and he leads me to the doors along the back wall.

He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Up or down?”

Knowing he means private or playroom, I decide public playroom sounds safest. I’ve never been into public displays, but I’m not sure I can contain myself in private. “Down.”

The sounds coming from the playroom assault my ears, as we walk down the stairs. The moaning, screaming, the distinct whistle of whips being whirled through the air before the loud crack, reverberates through my bones. My heart races and adrenaline floods my system, my muscles tense, as I go into fight or flight. I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t even know anyone who does it.

I back up into a solid wall of muscle. His arms come around my shoulders, stroking my arms, blazing a trail of lust in their wake.

“It’s okay. We are just down here so you can look around. I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have anything to worry about.” His hot breath bathes my ear.

I know it sounds crazy, but I do feel safe in his arms, protected.

Marcus opens the door the smell of sweat and sex hit me hard, my clit throbs in time with my racing heart. My arousal seeps onto my thighs, as my core clenches in need.

Though part of me wishes I chose to go up to the private rooms to have him quench my need, curiosity gets the best of me.

He takes my hand leading me into the room. A woman is tied to a large wooden X shaped rack, naked and writhing as a man dressed in black pants teases her with a riding crop.

Her moans grow louder with each stroke he makes on her body. Angry, red welts streak across her back and thighs. I bury my face in Marcus’s chest, hiding from the site as the man raises his arm to bring the crop down across her ass.

Marcus wraps his arms around me and leans down. “Look closer, listen carefully to her.”

I do as he asks and notice the wetness running between her thighs, the moaning for more, in fact, she is begging for it.

We walk further into the room and my gaze is riveted to where shackles and cuffs line the wall.

People in all manners of undress are locked in the shackles. Moans drag my attention higher in the room; large birdcages hang from the ceiling with naked bodies locked inside.

“These areas are reserved for a submissive that needs to be punished.” Marcus points as he continues as my guide.

My gaze continues to dart around the space. The spanking benches? I recognize those from Internet research. There are various whips, floggers and crops hanging on one of the walls. There are also various dildos and vibrators on the shelves next to them.

Drawn to the area where the spanking benches are, I curl closer to Marcus. There is a young man strapped down with shackles, his ass high in the air, covered with vicious red welts. The woman behind him holds a cane high in the air. She strikes him across his exposed ass, the skin opening up and a trickle of blood oozes down the cheek. The man is sobbing and apologizing, but it falls on deaf ears. As she brings her arm up to strike him again, Marcus turns to me.

“Stay right here Jasmine, I need to check on this.” He leaves me to go to the woman in black. Marcus takes the cane from the woman’s hand, her eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she runs from the room. He releases the man from the shackles and motions over the dungeon monitor. After handing the man over to the monitor He turns and stalks back to me,

“I’m sorry about that Jasmine, that woman’s name is Sam, her and I have been friends along time.” His eyes tell a story of sorrow. “Sometimes she gets a little out of control. I-”

I put my finger against his lips, silencing his explanation. “Marcus, that is her story to tell, if she wants me to know she can tell me.”

Marcus flashes that predatory smile. “Well then love, lets continue your tour. These are the examining tables.” He motions to the far corner of the room.

My heart hammers against my rib cage, threatening to break free, my breath coming in ragged gasps when I spy the medical examiner table in the corner of the room with a petite woman strapped down and her feet buckled in the stirrups.

A man flanks either side of her, one working her nipples over with a small spur like device, the other lightly flogging her spread pussy. She is begging to cum as they continue their torture of her. The sweat is glistening on her body. Her breasts rise and fall with each gasp of breath she takes. Her body trembles with the effects of the pleasure they are instilling on her. My focus is instantly drawn to the scene. The men are intensely focused on her pleasure. The outline of their erections strain against the front of their pants, the arousal they receive in bringing her to the edge of bliss evident. They find their own form of gratification in her pleading trembling body. This is an eye opener for me. There are men out there who find gratification in pleasing a woman.

I need Marcus to take me somewhere to show me why he invited me here. I pull him down to me. “I think it’s time you show me the private rooms.”

The expression that crosses his face is one of blatant desire, he’s been waiting for me to ask. He leads me to a door in the back opposite the one we came in. He produces a key and an elevator door slides open. Ushering me inside, the touch of his hand on the small of my back blazes fire across my nerves, he pushes the number third floor button.

The butterflies are back. I’m holding his hand in a knuckle white grip. I lean into his solid frame, seeking to leach his strength into myself. No matter how nervous I am, he makes me feel safe. He smells of sandalwood and pine with a hint of leather from his clothes, I breathe him in. The scent calms my fraying nerves. He pulls me into his arms holding me close, saying nothing as we ride up on the elevator,

As the door rings our arrival, before he allows the doors to open, he tilts my chin up till our eyes meet. “Pick a safe word.”

Gasping, I know I need one, but hearing the request aloud startles me into realizing what I’m getting into. Still, I hear the word float from my lips. “Belladonna”.

He ushers me into a large bedroom type room. In the far corner is a large four-poster Victorian style bed, attached to the posts are chains with padded cuffs. There’s a bench at the foot of the bed with a padded seat. On the wall are different types of paddles and whips. A single chair dominates the opposite corner, at the foot of it’s a large pillow. I assume for the submissive to sit there when in service. I’m new to this, having never really practiced any of it. A small dresser size stand, with four drawers, draws my eye, kicking my imagination into overdrive with racing thoughts of what is possibly contained in it. I read the consent form, marking my limits on what I’m willing to try and what I’m not right now. I know a little of what I’m getting into, but having never experienced half of what was on that paper is daunting.

The butterflies have taken up a tango in my stomach. No matter how nervous I am there is excitement too. Finally, I can live out my fantasies’ see where this road leads, the mysteries it holds. All I have to do is step into this room, trusting this man to lead me into the dark and untold world he created in this club.

Marcus leads me to the foot of the bed and watches me. I try not to fidget, but his stare makes me more nervous, as the minutes tick by. “What am I supposed to do? Kneel or something?” I look up into his mesmerizing gaze.

“I need you to relax and just trust me.” He walks over to the dresser, pulling a black blindfold out of the top drawer.

The site of the blindfold excites me. My breathing comes in ragged gasps, my heart hammers against my body. My arousal leaks from my slit, my wetness, I’m sure is visible dripping down my thighs. My clit pulsates a rhythm of lust. My nipples rub erotically on the corset I’m wearing further tightening the sensitive peaks. I take a deep breath and squeeze my legs together trying to quell the ache in my body. Nothing helps.

He smiles, as he approaches, like he knows how turned on I am by the sight of the blindfold. He places the blindfold across my eyes.

“Just listen to my voice, let your body feel the sensations, remember if you are scared or things are going too far you have a safe word. If you just need to slow down and take a minute say yellow and we will talk about what happened and what you are feeling.” His voice, a calming anchor, in the stormy sea of emotions flooding my mind.

Then he’s gone. I no longer feel him standing in front of me. There are no sounds in the room, unable to center in on his location. My heart rate returns to normal, as I relax into the darkness of the blindfold. The brush of something soft whispers across my neck, raising goose bumps along my flesh. I try to anticipate the next touch, when something icy trails along my collarbone. A shiver skates down my spine, as a hot tongue follows the cold, a whimper breaks from my throat. The tongue continues its path down my collarbone to dip seductively in the cleavage the corset displays.

My nipples, ache to be free my back arches, thrusting my breasts forward, seeking more contact. My clit throbs, begging for attention of it’s own. Marcus walks me backwards until my knees bump in the edge of the bed. Laying me down, he unlaces the corset, sliding it open to reveal me to him. I’m in Heaven’s arms when he takes my nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the sensitive nub. Marcus raises my arms above my head I feel the cuffs lock into place around my wrists. It thrusts my breasts up like an offering to him. He continues to tongue my breasts, leaving a wet trail in the hollow between them. My pussy clenches with every nip of his teeth. He slides the satin skirt down my legs and pushes my knees apart. I try to close my legs, but he positions his body between them so I cannot. I feel the cuffs close around my ankles. A moment of panic, rushes into my system. My safe word is on my tongue. I jerk my hands, pulling violently against the restraints, trying to kick my legs, the cuff biting into my ankles.