e amazing, though,” she said, with a little shiver. “And a bit scary. Some of these looks are quite…extreme.”
“Everyone has their own level, Liebchen. Their comfort zone. In this place, we live and let live. Or rather, we whip and let whip.” He chuckled.
“Hey, Karl-Heinz.” He was greeted by a man at the bar—Lydia recognised his face but couldn’t place him. She was pretty sure he hadn’t been wearing leather trousers and a fishnet vest last time she’d seen him. Nor had he been holding a riding crop. “And this is your new sub, right?”
The man’s accent was similar to von Ritter’s.
“Allow me to present Lydia,” said von Ritter, holding her shoulder and nudging her into a servile little bow. “She’s very new to the scene but she’s a fast learner. This is her first public outing, so be nice.”
“I’m always nice. I love the outfit.” He put out a hand towards the latex, looking up at von Ritter as if for permission.
Von Ritter nodded.
Lydia gasped as the man’s hand traced the curve of her waist and hips, tugging at the knicker elastic.
“I’d like something like this for my sub,” he commented. “Not that I have one at the moment.”
“You’re here alone?”
“No, no, I have a companion, but she’s here out of curiosity. She isn’t really submissive. She might even have a Domme streak. Where the hell is she? She went for a look around twenty minutes ago.”
“Well, why don’t you accompany us to the boudoir? I think Lydia is nervous, and perhaps she might appreciate getting her first public spanking over and done with. What do you think, Lydia?”
“Oh, er, okay.”
“Julius has seen it all before. You mustn’t mind him.”
Julius! It’s Julius Hackmeyer, the conductor.
Leading her up some stairs, von Ritter explained that he thought it too early for the dungeon, where all the hardcore action went on, but that the boudoir was a nice place to ease her in. Besides, most of the people in there would be too busy fucking to take much notice of a girl getting her tail reddened.
Hackmeyer laughed in agreement and they walked through some splendid golden doors, upholstered with red buttoned velvet, into a sumptuous, Oriental-themed room. Beautiful, tactile fabrics were everywhere, scattered over the large selection of beds and divans. Wherever Lydia looked, she saw writhing bodies. Some screened themselves off behind curtains, but most were indifferent to the strangers’ gazes, taking their pleasure in full view. Low, sultry music played, mingling with the scents of incense and sex, forming a kind of aural and olfactory drug. Lydia felt her inhibitions slowly dissolve, replaced by fascinated arousal.
“Would you like to lie down on one of those couches and be pleasured until you are exhausted?” asked Hackmeyer lightly.
Lydia couldn’t answer. She was absorbed in the sight of a beautiful girl in a spangled bikini top and nothing else, sitting astride one man while another thrust into her bottom.
“Never mind them.” Von Ritter led her onward, to a low divan that lay unoccupied in a corner of the room. “This looks like a good spot. Suitably obscure. Will this do, Lydia?”
She looked around. No eyes were upon them. She nodded.
“Good. Now I want you to get onto the bed on your hands and knees.”
Lydia, averting her eyes from Hackmeyer, whose presence lent extra butterflies to her stomach, did as von Ritter commanded. The divan was lusciously soft, its velvet caressing her knees and palms. She felt the tight latex strain around her bottom as she pushed it out, presenting as von Ritter had taught her.
“That’s perfect,” he said in a low, reassuring voice. He put his hand on her rear and patted it. “I think we’ll start with these on, since they’re so cute.”
“Very cute,” said Hackmeyer approvingly. “Lovely ass, too.”
Lydia felt all the blood rush to her cheeks. Well, not all of it rushed to her cheeks. Some of it ended up between her legs, too.
She breathed in the heavy incense and let it go to her head. She was embracing a new experience, flying into a fantasy. No harm would come to her.
Von Ritter’s hand fell on her tightly cased bottom. The latex gave the smack a gloriously crisp sound and she felt sure it would attract attention. From the corner of her eye, she saw a couple engaged in energetic shagging look up and try to find the source of the noise. As for the pain, it was negligible, even when von Ritter carried on at a languid pace. The rubber was so thin it offered little protection, but what it did accentuate, after only a few strokes, was the heat. Pretty soon, Lydia was feeling very hot. And not just on her spanked cheeks—her pussy soon radiated an uncomfortable level of warmth, her clit throbbing against the tight, constricting material.
“You’re taking it very slow,” remarked Hackmeyer. “She hasn’t made a squeak yet.”
“It’s her first time,” von Ritter reminded him, but his friend’s words seemed to lend impetus to his hand, which sped up and landed more heavily from that point onwards.