A Little Shopping Will Calm Me Down
From Torg Adventure
The new store was wedged between Target and Kroger's at the big store strip mall near my house. The parking lot was busy on this Saturday afternoon in the summer. When I walked in, the air conditioning neutralized the eighty degree heat outside, but wasn't nearly as cold as most stores chilled the air.
The greeter was gorgeous with her long blond hair, perfectly coiffed, her beautiful face, shining blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and a naughty smile that made you think of all the delicious things you'd like her to do to you. She had a deep tan, legs that seemed to disappear into infinity from perspective, and a very well filled-out bikini.
"Welcome to Sex Depot. Can I help you find anything?" she said in her singsongy voice. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.
"This is my first time here. I was looking for some light whipping," I said as confidently as possible. I smiled back at her, hoping to seem hip and with it.
"Well, that would be in the S and M Department, which is down this aisle, past Sex Toys, take a left when you see the Massage section, and go straight to the wall. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No, thank you. I should be fine."
"Have a nice day," she said so cheerily that her teeth nearly sparkled.
"Thanks. You, too," was all I could manage, thinking about my upcoming purchase. I headed toward my whipping.
The aisle she sent me down was the video aisle. Three televisions on each side were playing different X-rated videos. One had a black woman getting fucked on all fours by muscular white guys, one had two lesbians sucking each others tits. One had Asian acrobats performing impossible sex acts while in the strangest contortions I'd ever seen. There was also a Bukkake disk, an X-rated version of pro wrestling where instead of pinning your opponent, you had to immobilize them enough to fuck them, and just straight sex between a white couple.
When I got to Sex Toys, several small couches were in use in the Demonstration Area. An Indian woman was thrusting a ten-inch purple vibrator into her pussy. Two lesbians were on one couch, the butch-looking one with a strap-on, pounding the other from behind. A big white guy, who looked like a construction worker or a fireman or something, was pressing a small dildo in his ass. All of the implements were covered with latex condoms. The moaning from this bunch was pretty loud. To the side, a cart held a large pan of soapy water with several of the demonstrator toys in it. A sign labelled 'Hand Tools' hung up high and to the left, while another sign labelled 'Power Tools' hung to the right.
I came to a tee and in front of me were a series of massage tables, covered in sheets and clients. Many of them were moaning, but more of the 'that hurts so good' type of moan, not the 'that feels so good' type from the Sex Toys department. One male client on the end was moaning in the latter way, because he was in the midst of getting a 'happy ending'. I turned left.
- - - Things will change in the rest of this - - -
I got to the far wall and saw a sign with two arrows pointing opposite direction: "Sadism" to the left and "Masochism" to the right. I went right. I came up to a freestanding counter with a topless clerk behind it. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun, which showed off her lovely swan neck. She wore cat's eye glasses that made her look like a lewd librarian. Her tan lines drew my eyes to her pert, white breasts; her nipples were sticking out from the air conditioning. She had a nipple ring in one. She looked up as I approached.
"How can I help you?" Her gaze held my eyes, and I could tell that when she wasn't clerking, she was one of the dominatrices in the department. Her sultry voice pulled me in like an angler.
My palms started sweating, but I managed to swallow the lump in my throat long enough to say, "I'd like 30 minutes of light whipping."
Her lopsided smile raised my blood pressure twenty points. She looked at the computer screen for a few seconds, and said, "All the doms are busy right now, but if you give me a minute, I can take care of that right away. Or would you rather wait for someone in particular?" Her eyes were on mine again, and my underarms were sweating now.
"You'll be perfect." I hoped my grin was as alluring as hers.
Her purr was barely audible. She picked up the phone from behind the counter and pushed a button on it. She held the microphone away from her mouth as she said, "Twenty-nine to Masochism desk! Twenty-nine to Masochism desk!" She hung up the phone, and picked up a sheet of sticky labels that were covered in bar codes. "Do you have a slip yet?"
"Nope." I shook my head.
She grabbed a pad of sales slips and peeled a label off, affixing it to the sales slip. She yanked the slip off the pad and handed it to me. "Here you go." I shoved it in my shirt pocket.
"As soon as someone comes to relieve me here, I can take care of you. Have a seat over there." She pointed to some chairs to the side, arranged almost identically to those in my dentist's office: two comfortable-looking chairs on each side of a side table covered in magazines. The wrist of the pointing hand had a half dozen bangles of various sorts and a tattoo of a goth fairy, dark, brooding, and naked.
In exactly three minutes and twelve seconds, a very handsome, blond, twenty-something man came up to the counter, wearing black leather pants and a remarkable series of leather straps around his torso. "Hey, Jeannine," he said in his velvety voice that had a moderately heavy Scandinavian accent.
"Thanks, Lars. I've got a client. Man the desk, please. Come with me, Mister." She wagged her finger at me. I stood as if I couldn't help it. She led me back down a row of doors. When she stepped out from behind the counter, I saw she was wearing just a red garter belt with black trim and black nylon stockings. Her ass wiggled like firm Jell-O in front of him.
Groans, slaps, and occasionally shrieks emanated from the closed doors. On the end, one door stood open. Jeannine walked in, and I was close behind her. She closed and locked the door.
I stared around the rather large room that looked like a cross between a massage therapist's office and a well-equipped dungeon. The walls were painted a soothing pale green. What looked like a padded massage table was in the middle of the room, with a massage chair off to one side, and a large X-frame against one wall. Two walls of the room had racks of equipment -- everything from leather whips, cat-o-nine-tails,and riding crops to bull whips, thick jute rope whips, rulers, and yard sticks. A half-open armoire full of clothing stood over by the massage chair. Several strategically-placed mirrors graced locations around the room.
"Standing, sitting, or lying down," she said, facing you, one eyebrow arched higher than the other.
"Uh, sitting."
"While you are removing your clothes down to your underwear, tell me what costume you like me to wear," she said as freshly as if I was the only customer she'd had all week.
"What costumes do you have?" I said a little nervously, starting to unbutton my shirt.
"Oh, the usual. Full-bore dominatrix with black leather bustier and fishnet stockings to French maid to Cave Woman to lots of things. What do you like?" She pulled a few outfits from the cabinet on hangers and held them against her body.
I looked at her again, head to toe. I was already feeling a little activity down in the pants, so maybe her outfit was fine. Maybe just some mystery. "How about just add a masquerade mask?"
Her smile brightened up. "I like your thinking." She plucked a mask from the inside of the door of the wardrobe, removed her glasses, and tied it around her face. My cock jumped at the sight of her. I removed my shirt and tossed in the basket next to the chair. My hands went to my belt.
"Now, choose your weapon of pleasure and pain." Her voice held a tension that you could feel.
An image from my past flashed in my mind's eye. I was on my uncle's farm, where he kept horses and dairy cows. My cousin, Rachel, was chasing me with a riding crop. She had just turned fifteen, and her breasts were well on their way to developing into her current C-cup size. I don't remember what I had said or done to make her chase me, but when she caught me, she tripped me and then beat me with the crop. Not very hard, just play fighting. But I almost came in my pants. After that I kissed her, and we chased each other for the rest of the two weeks I stayed. Sometimes, she caught me; sometimes I caught her.
"Riding crop, please." I had my pants off and deposited them in the basket. I took off my shoes and socks and walked over to the massage chair. I knelt in the chair and leaned into the body rest. I held onto the arm rests. I put my face into the padded face cushion.
