Thoroughly Whipped

Novah laughed and wrote it down. “You know, these things seem pretty excessive, Faith. You sure it’s that kind of club? Isn’t there a strong difference between a true hardcore BDSM dungeon and a sex club for the rich and famous?”

I nodded. “I don’t think it is for sadists, it’s more for exhibitionists with so much money they get bored with life and thus suddenly decide dressing up in a pig mask with a sign around their neck saying ‘touch me’ seems like a good idea.” I took a long drink of my coffee. “But I’m not taking any chances with Maître. He wants to own me, Nove. I can feel it. I need to have all parts of my bare ass covered.”

“No, what you can feel is the remnants of the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, and it’s frazzled your brain.” Novah held my arm. “Faith, you’re acting like a man.”

I laughed, but I let my mind drift back to Maître Auguste behind me, his talented fingers causing me to scream. “It’s true,” I admitted in defeat. “And that was nothing, Nove. Nothing to what was happening in the rest of the club. Nothing to what all those devices and contraptions in Maître’s room promised.”

Novah rolled her desk chair beside me. “Just go with it, Faith. You never know, this might be the best thing that has ever happened to you. I mean, the elusive Maître of NOX picked you to be his personal siren. On your first night. Granted, it was because you almost maimed innocent people, but still. It’s an incredible thing. It’s like you’ve won the lottery twice. Think of all the material you’ll have for your feature.”

I squeezed the arms of my chair just thinking about watching Maître pleasure himself on his throne, with those alien-like silver contacts practically boring laser beams into my eyes as he watched me for any sign of disobedience.

“It was, without doubt, the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.”

“And you said he was hung.” Novah’s eyebrows danced. “Just wait until that piece of hot salami is served on your moist platter.”

“Please never utter that sentence again. My lady boner just totally deflated.”

“Faith! Are you finished with your column?” Sally barked as she whizzed past us like a hurricane.

“Almost!” I called back, scrambling forward to my desk. In truth, I hadn’t even started it. I had wasted too many hours researching hard and soft limits and kink practices. “Shit! What time is it?” I asked Novah.

“Five.” Novah grimaced.

“Double shit!” I spat and downed the rest of my coffee like it was a shot of cheap-ass vodka. “Think, think, think,” I said, piling up the emails for my “Ask Miss Bliss” page, trying to find ones that were spunky enough for this week’s magazine.

“We don’t go to press until midnight, Faith. You’ve got time.”

“I don’t. I have to be in Maître’s room by eight, kneeling down and awaiting my trip to hedonism!” Novah stood and started putting on her coat, as did most of the office. I panicked. “Help me!”

Novah kissed my head. “Can’t, sweets. I’ve got a salon appointment. These red tresses don’t grow naturally, you know.”

“Traitor!” I said and made my eyes focus on the first email I’d printed off.

I’ve recently begun having sex with my boyfriend, and on our first night I squirted as I came, drenching both myself and my antique patchwork quilt. I’m afraid it will happen again and, worse, my boyfriend cannot swim. Any advice? From H.R. Brown.

Loading up my computer, I wrote: Invest in some waterproof sheets for you, and repurpose the quilt as a wall tapestry far out of squirting range. Buy a snorkel and swimming cap for your boyfriend. Ride his dick like it’s Aquaman’s trident and be safe in the knowledge that the next time you gush, your precious belongings and boyfriend will be safe from imminent drowning. Live wet and wild, Miss Bliss.

I typed like a mythical Fury high off her tits on a six-pack of Red Bull and quickly wrapped up my agony column. When I looked up, it was to see Frank, the janitor, slowly making his way into Visage’s office. The lights were low and I was the only writer left.

“Hey Frank!” I called as I ran past him, jacket, purse and, more importantly, my list in my hands.

“Hey, Faith! Be careful out there. The rain is really coming down.”

“Will do, Frank! Bye!” I ran to the elevators and pressed the button repeatedly until the doors opened. I rushed inside, only to come up short when I saw Harry Sinclair.

His head snapped up in surprise. “Miss Parisi,” he said, rising from a slouched position against the back wall. “I didn’t think anyone else was left in the building.” The doors shut behind us, and I quickly pressed the button for the lobby.