The Adult Story Hub

This story is fictional. It has no relationship to anyone I know, I ever met or anyone I may hope to meet. It came out of my own sick mind. It’s pornographic and should not be read by anyone who doesn’t like this kind of stuff. Also it should not be read if you are 18 years of age or under. It’s probably not good for you and you are not permitted to read this story. This story may be copied or saved, if you want to. However, no charge is permitted. If anyone copies it or transmit it to another, this statement must be included. Waldo Ataboy 4/29/2000

The Ace of Clubs is the name of a very exclusive S&M club in New York. Its members are embarrassingly rich, famous, or sponsored by them. Its existence is known by very few and its board of directors are powerful and have influence both in government and business. It leases the five top floors of 40-story building on a side street just off from some of the largest corporation or professional offices in Manhattan.
The Club operates on the 36th floor a very exclusive French restaurant with a well-known chef together with a bar and lounge. They will only serve their members, special guests or very important invitees. Notwithstanding it is always busy, requiring a long waiting time to get a table unless you belong to the select few for whom special consideration is given. However, waiting can be pleasant since you can get drinks in the well-furnished lounge and socialize with your companions in comfort. The Club also operates on the 37th and 38th floors a health facility for its members and those that the members sponsor. It is complete with the entire range of exercising equipment with a small gym, a steam bath, male and female showers, trainers and masseurs. The top floors are restricted to its members who participate in or enjoy watching S&M. Access to these floors can only be secured with a special membership card. Membership is very expensive; notwithstanding that fact, there is a waiting list for hopeful parties who wish to join but the existing members are very selective as to whom they will let in.
About me, my name is Walter McGuire (not my real name), am a recent graduate from Columbia Law School in the top 3rd of my class. I got a job with ……(the name I will not disclose) hereinafter called the Law Firm. It is one of the largest law firms in the country, with its home office here in Manhattan, and subsidiary offices in Washington D.C., San Francisco, London, England, and Paris, France. Even though I am a novice attorney they gave me what they thought to be a loser, a personal liability case against a well-regarded doctor. They told me not to get discouraged when I lose it, but after my brutal cross-examination of the doctor and his subsequent expert witness, the insurance company, responsible for the judgment, talked settlement by phone with one of The Firm’s senior partners. We accepted a very generous settlement even though the case had not gone to jury. It was explained to me that even with a win, the case would take many years in appeals.
Because of my win, the Law Firm gave me a special card affording me access to the restaurant and health facility of Ace of Clubs together with a credit card of the firm, for otherwise I could obviously not afford to use my reward. Both were great and I liberally used my new privileges. It was at lunch in the lounge having drinks and waiting for a table in the restaurant when two associates from the firm and I saw her. She was a hot looking broad. She was about 22, tall, cute ass and tits and an innocent face that could have started the Trojan wars besides all that dressed to kill. She was also in the lounge with two other couples obviously escorting them for lunch. I said to my companions, “That is really hot stuff. I would like to get in her pants.”
Larry, who was with me said, “I heard of her and don’t try. She’s a bitch. Her name is Rebecca Wharton (not her real name) and she’s a Lorelei, and she loves to lead men to their doom.”
For me that’s like waiving a red cape in front of a bull. True I’m not immodest but also I can’t deny the truth, I’m a hotshot womanizer. I’ve been making out with broads ever since I was 17. There was no gal, which I could not seduce if I try. Fuck em and forget em, was my motto. “We’ll see about that,” I said, “I’m willing to bet I get her in bed within the month.”
“I warned you,” Larry said. Then they called us to our table in the restaurant.
“Wait a minute,” I said. I pulled a company card from my wallet, wrote on the back, “Please allow me the privilege of buying you a drink, you enchant me.” Gave the card to the waiter to deliver to her. Went with my companions to be seated for lunch.
They passed our table as they were being seated and she dropped my card torn into pieces in front of me on my table and walked on with her guests past me. She never gave me a second look.
I was pissed. I said to myself that we would see about this. It’s war.
My campaign started with another note to her in the lounge. The same results. I did some research and discovered her E-mail address, wrote and told her how much I admired her from afar. No response. I discovered her father’s work address and wrote her begging her to give me a chance to meet her. She ignored me. I sent flowers to her in care of Ace of Clubs. The flowers were returned with “refused” worded on them. I made inquiry about her from anyone I could find who knew her or heard of her. They told me that she was unobtainable and would not see anyone except important clients of her father in his money management company who she entertained and escorted. Although she had some girl friends that she was close to, as to male friends it was hush hush. They would not elaborate.
Then it came, a note in a fancy envelope on fancy notepaper engraved in gold with, “From the desk of Rebecca Wharton.” It said that I was invited to meet with her this Wednesday at about three in the afternoon on the 39th floor of the Ace of Clubs and in view of my persistence; she was willing to hear and consider my petition. In order for me to gain entrance she would leave my name with the guard who monitors all those permitted there. Someone other then my secretary must have read the note since it was no longer sealed.
Arriving exactly at 3 and getting off the elevator on the 39th floor I was stopped by the guard who let me pass after I identified myself. Passing through the vestibule I entered a large well-furnished room with doorways to adjoining rooms, which I could not discern what was in them. There was a few couples sitting at small tables with drinks and chatting among themselves. Being approached by a waiter, who seemed to know why I was there and informed me that Miss Wharton was delayed, but should be arriving shortly. He suggested I take a comfortable chair and he will serve me with a drink of my choice. I ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks and waited. And waited, and waited, ordered a 2nd Jack Daniels and waited.
Figuring that she stood me up, it was ten to four; I started to leave, when she entered leading another young man by a leash attached to a collar around his neck. “I’m sorry I am late. Please forgive me but there is something I must take care,” she said as she passed me and took the man into one of the adjoining rooms. “You can watch, if you like,” she said and held the door open for me to come in. “Sit there and we can chat after I’m through,” and she pointed me to an easy chair by the door and deposited the young man in the center of the room by a heavy oak table. In came a young maid to whom Miss Wharton said, “Strip him and hand me No. 3.”
Off came his tie, shirt and undershirt. The young man pleaded, “Please, not in front of him.” The maid paid no attention to his pleas and stripped him of the balance of his clothing, his shoes, socks, pants and shorts so that he stood there buck naked. The maid went to the wall took a whip hanging there from an assortment and gave it to her mistress.
Miss Wharton whispered in his ear, “I must do this beloved. Precious, put each hand at the corners of the table and bend over.” He complied and after being handed the whip, Miss Wharton administered the first lash, hard, across his ass.
“Yeoh,” he screamed, “ Please no.”
“Accept it for me, my darling,” whispered Miss Wharton and gave him three more.
“Yeoh, It hurts too much, I can’t take it,” he screamed.
“Sure you can, do it for me,” she said and she gave him three across his ass. He began sobbing; his cock responded with a hard on.
“Please mistress, no more,” he cried and she gave him three hard strokes. “No more, no more,” he wailed.
“But you haven’t reached your limit. I know better then you what you can take,” she said and gave him three even harder. “Don’t you feel proud that you took the entire amount due? I love you for taking it so well,” she told him and kissed him on the cheek. You could see he was in love with his mistress.
Turning to her maid she instructed her to relieve his erection, get him dressed and send him home. As he straighten up in tears, the maid greased two finger of her left hand and inserted them into his asshole; grabbed firmly his cock with her right hand and he pumped and squirted into a towel placed before him to avoid soiling the carpet. He thanked his mistress and thanked the maid for her attention to her duties.
Rebecca Wharton turned to me. I was in shock but I also had an erection tenting my pants that she obviously noticed. She said, “It was rude of me to subject you to this; it could not wait, but we can talk now. We can sit and have a drink; I’m all ears and will have your complete attention.”
I got up notwithstanding my misbehaving cock. “I don’t go for this S&M shit; this is too much for me. I am not a pervert.” I left her and went down to the restaurant to get a cup of coffee to compose myself.
It was soon after; she entered the restaurant, looked around, saw me and sat down at my side pressing against me. Ordering a coffee, she placed her left hand on my thigh under the table. “You must be upset in that I was late. I met a friend who I had not seen for some time. You know how those things go. But here I am.” A girl friend spotted her, came over, and she invited her to join us and to have a coffee with us. Drinking her coffee with one hand she messaged my cock through my pants with the other. Chatting with her friend, she unzipped my fly and out sprung my aroused cock under the table. I could do nothing to stop her as she ran her fingernail along my shaft.
I gasped. Her friend turned to me and said, “Are you alright?” Rebecca, with a smile motioned her with her eye down to my lap. The friend glanced down, saw my condition, giggled and gave me a wink. I was mortified but could do nothing without making a scene. With two fingers and her thumb she squeezed my prick and I started grunting and pumping; I lost control.
The friend said, “He’s going to come all over his pants, maybe I can fix that.” She attempted to get her napkin down in time, but missed, half of my emission shot on the napkin and half on my pants. “Oh well, we didn’t quite make it. Maybe we can do better next time.” she laughed.
Both got up to leave, Rebecca said to me, “Maybe we can talk some other time when you can control yourself. Pay the bill and leave a good tip, money that is.” and both laughed at her joke. Rebecca informed the waitress of my accident and told her she would need more napkins to clean up the mess. The waitress gave me a big knowing smile. No question, that woman is a sadist. Larry was right.
I didn’t know how I could get out of that restaurant unobserved with my pants splattered at my crotch but the waitress came to my aid by getting me a raincoat for cover. I did leave her a big tip.
I resolved that no way would I have anything to do with Rebecca Wharton, that She Devil. She’s poison. She worse then the bubonic plague. May I be struck impotent if I ever in any way consent to have a meeting with her again.
The next day at the office a senior partner of the firm wanted to see me. Did that portend good or ill I wondered. I immediately went in the bathroom to check myself out. I washed my face with cold water to calm down and went in to see him. Except it was not a him, it was a her. Dora Wilson (not her real name) greeted me; she was the senior partner. Not wasting any time she came straight to the point. She was aware of my invitation of a meeting with Rebecca Wharton. I was told Miss Wharton was the granddaughter of Hyman Wharton who was, when alive, a high official in the House of Rothschild. Her father was a successful money manager who arranged financing for IPOs and mergers and that it would be to my interest to develop a good rapport with her as this could be a good opening for important business for the firm. Miss Wilson let me know in her own words “Don’t screw it up.”
What to do? I won’t be trite by saying it; yes I will; I was between a rock and a hard place. How did I get myself into a position like this? Two days later I got another note “From the desk of Rebecca Wharton.” It said that she enjoyed our previous meeting. That she wanted to meet me again and she realized that I would be hesitant and therefore we could meet on neutral ground at lunch at the restaurant with some other guests there to assure me that I was safe. She invited me for lunch the next day at one o’clock, and to keep my calendar open for two hours following. Advise her if I couldn’t make it. The envelope was again unsealed so I knew Miss Wilson probably read a copy of note before I got it.
Miss Wilson sent me a note in the morning prior to the meeting that I could take the whole afternoon off and she will have Larry handle the deposition that I had scheduled. She certainly read Miss Wharton’s note to me and must have received a copy before I got it.
In the lounge of the restaurant at one o’clock, I saw them. There was Rebecca Wharton with seven obviously wealthy ladies and two men. One of the men being the person that Rebecca had whipped at our previous get together. They were drinking and chatting waiting to be seated for lunch. Upon spotting me, Rebecca waived me over. I ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks and carefully approached her.
To put me at ease, Rebecca saw my apprehension said to me, “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything, you’re safe, besides I will ask you to do something for me later.” She proceeded to introduce me to the others. I recognized a few of the women as being either influential themselves or married to influential men. We were advised that our special room was available and we went into it be seated for lunch. I was seated between Rebecca and a 50ish woman who appeared to be in charge. After the main course was served she said, “No reason we can’t start with our business while eating. Let’s have the reports from the committee heads.” I learned later she was the chairwoman for STEWS (Society to Establish Women’s Superiority).
The various women gave their reports to the gathering that didn’t interest me in the least. However when Rebecca gave her report I was startled to learn that she was in charge of getting recruits for the male auxiliary. She introduced the two men that were present as voluntary inductees willing to be compliant to the members of STEWS. She introduced me as good prospect that she hoped to convince to join.