Chapter One

Turn About

Even for The Five Seasons, the suite was extreme luxury, with an abundance of accessories and gadgets that most people never see in a hotel room. Anyone, especially if they had a particularly S&M-based mindset, would be impressed. The multiple, large, flat screen displays in every room, (including the shower), the double king-sized bed, a full kitchen with well-stocked bar, wine closet and fridge, coffee roaster/grinder and its companion alcohol-fired coffee maker and dozens of other handy gadgets were intended to show that whatever you were paying, it was worth it. The private elevator from the garage to the penthouse added a nice luxury touch.

The suite almost always got the women into the bed or into Hank's Training Closet, (HTC), with its assortment of chains, rope, leather straps, harnesses, cuffs, hoods, straightjackets, body bags, gags and other disciplinary devices. It was one of three on the hotel condo’s exclusive penthouse floor and it was not only the one with the best views of the city, but it was also secure and totally soundproof. This latter feature proved useful when his companions turned out to be highly vocal, either because of his impressive, occasionally drug-enhanced performance in bed or by his accuracy and talents with the whip or cat-o-nine-tails in the adjoining HTC.

Hank's deal with the hotel's management was an annual lease with a unique clause in it that allowed the hotel to use the suite four times a year when special events, such as the auto show or the book show, in the city merited extra high room rates. When these times came, he had plenty of advance notice and the property staff took pains to lock away, seal the HTC and secure his private property so that the suite was usable by out-of-towners willing and able to pay a daily rate that usually exceeded what Hank paid for a week.

The second benefit of the deal was that his one-night stand partners were uniformly impressed when he showed them to the private elevator and whisked them up thirty floors to the impressive private entry and the suite itself. Only twice since he'd had the place had his date of the moment belatedly refused to climb into his monster bed and do the deed he requested and expected. Usually, he spent the night having a good time and both parties knew it for what it was…a one night fling, probably never again to be repeated.

At this particular moment, Hank was trying to recall more accurately one evening that began in the fancy bar of another luxury hotel a few blocks away and ended in his suite, but with a slightly different outcome. He had asked the strikingly beautiful brunette if, for a little variety, she'd like to try out the HTC, which Hank politely showed her after their initial coupling and showers. Barb, (that was the name she gave him in the bar), said she was enthralled with the idea of S&M activity, but that she would only allow him to tie or otherwise restrain her if he demonstrated the equipment first. After putting up what he thought was an adequate resistance and craving the opportunity to have this lovely creature hanging from his whipping post, Hank showed her the various devices and then put his back to the steel post and let her, initially with his coaching, cuff his wrists and ankles to the sturdy post. Barb followed his instructions carefully, teasing Hank as they went along and asking questions about how to release the cuffs and how to use the various paddles and canes prominently displayed on the walls. Without his suggesting it, she fitted a leather-lined steel collar around his neck and locked a long chain to the D ring on the collar's front.

“That's about it, for now,” Hank said, moving his head from side to side, trying to adjust the collar and its somewhat unpleasant grip on his neck. “You can unlock me now and it'll be your turn, Barb,” he said.

“Oh, but I'm not finished yet,” said the brunette as she scanned the walls and then began opening and shutting drawers and cabinets.

“What are you looking for?” Hank asked, feeling a bit of a pang in his stomach and the hair on his arms and chest beginning stand up straight while his formerly erect cock slowly shrank. “I can help you find whatever it is, but I need you to release me as you promised,” he added.

“Where do you keep the gags?” Barb asked, turning on her five inch heels and giving Hank a full, well-lit view of her splendid nudity.

“Maybe she wants to be fucked by a bound and gagged man,” he thought. “Well, I can do that. It might be fun for a change.”

“Try the second and third drawer,” Hank said, slowly, knowing already that this was not going to go the way he'd planned it. “But come on, Barb. Let me down, please.”

“I think you should beg me to free you. After all, you planned to have me right where you are now, didn't you?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” he said. “But I also agreed to release you at any time you wanted me to. Now I am asking you for the same courtesy. Release me. Please, Barb.”

“Beg, you fucker,” she yelled, spraying vodka-tainted spittle in his sweating face.

“Barb, I can’t beg you more than I already have. Please get me down. My fingers are going numb,” Hank whined.

“When I get done with you, your fingers will be the last thing you are worried about. As soon as I finish beating your sorry ass, I’ll make sure your dick isn’t numb,” Barb added with new venom in her voice.

“Please, don’t whip me. I have no tolerance for pain,” Hank pulled out his favorite card, knowing that this ploy worked on many other of his one night S&M stands. The woman would plead that she couldn’t stand pain and Hank would obligingly tell her that he understood and couldn’t stand pain either. Once he got her tied and strapped to the steel whipping post, he’d seem to forget that discussion and flail the woman’s back and ass smartly while she screamed into the mouth-filling gag.

“You don't want to be whipped?”

“No,” shouted Hank, now watching the cat in Barb’s gloved hands as she slowly twirled its knotted ends, making the whip whistle through the air and just barely touching hank’s upper thighs. “You can’t do this to me. I am a top, not a sub,” he said quickly, his eyes blinking rapidly and tears running down his face.

“Well, Hank,” Barb said slowly. “I am sorry to tell you that I like being on top and in this case, you are going to have to roll with it because we have all night and I intend to show you some new tricks that you probably haven't used on your other partners and I am sure have not been used on you.”

“That wasn't the deal,” Hank whimpered, twitching his tightly restrained body to avoid the swirling cat.

“I know, but chalk it up to experience. Besides, it's always worthwhile to get some understanding of what the other side has to endure.”

“But they want it. They ask for it. You said you wanted to be whipped just an hour ago,” Hank blubbered through his tears. “I do NOT want it, understand? This is a thing for women, not men like me. Now let me go!”

“Oh, it’s only for girls?” Barb asked, glaring at the sniveling man on the post. “I’ll have to think about this a bit, but I’d say you have been a very bad boy if you believe that flogging is punishment meant only for women.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Hank said quickly, realizing that once again his mouth had failed to help him out of a bad situation.

The cat sizzled through the air and all nine knotted tails seared a ragged red pattern across his chest.

“Bad boy. Bad baby,” Barb muttered. “You should know that shouting at your boss is not an effective negotiation tactic, so you get the gag for now and maybe I'll listen to your negotiations later on.”

Barb moved against him, her thigh pressed between his legs, messaging his groin, her taunt nipples pillaging the sweaty, thick hair on his chest and the gag dangling from her hand. The gag was one that Hank knew well, as he often used it on other women. It was a fat, penis-shaped rubber affair with a short hose extending from the front and a squeeze inflation bulb at the end of the hose. He knew it was extremely effective at stopping any pleas for help or mercy. He clamped his jaws shut.

“Oh, come on, Hank,” Barb whined. “Show a little interest. Accept the inevitable. It will be, I assure you, an adventure,” she said, pressing the gag to his thin lips.

Hank shook his head, certain that with his experience he could outlast this young woman and not open his mouth for her. Suddenly, Barb seized his balls in a death grip, squeezing them in her right hand while the left hand thrust the gag into his open, screaming mouth. He screamed and the rubber dick popped into his mouth.

“That's a good boy, Hank. Take it all. Take it all in there,” she crooned as she strapped the leather gag harness straps around his head and pulled them tight in the locking buckles, forcing his jaws wider apart. Then she pumped the inflation bulb a few times until Hank thought his jaws might be dislocated.

“Lovely, Hank. Your eyes are almost bugging out of your head and your mouth is quite full of warm, sexy, hot air,” Barb said as she disconnected the hose and proceeded to fit the rectangular, padded leather cover over the front of the gag. This thick pad covered Hank's face from below his nose to halfway down his chin, sealing the front of the inflatable gag and his mouth. Straps from the pad went around and over his head until his skull was almost totally encased in leather and very little noise came from his plugged mouth.

Barb continued her tormenting narrative. “That is a nice gag, I'd say, Hank. I don't have a lot of experience with one like this, but it seemed to beckon me to try it out on you. Glena Moss told me that you used it on her about a month ago and she found it was very effective at keeping her quiet while you buggered her ass and used that riding crop over there to keep her ‘tuned up’ as I think she said you put it.” Barb waved one gloved hand towards a collection of flails and crops on the closet wall while she busied herself with something that Hank couldn’t see.

“That should keep you quiet while I beat your sorry ass purple,” Barb added as she turned to survey the display wall, searching, Hank was sure, for the right toy to apply to his shivering torso.

“Do you have a preference, Hank?” she asked, her back toward him and her arm reaching for a set of bamboo canes wrapped with a rubber band.

“Uhhhh, oooooooo, eeeeze…” Hank moaned from behind the gag, his tongue pressed to the floor of his wide-open mouth and his throat already dry with fear and anxiety.

“Oh good, I thought that might be your pleasure,” Barb said, separating one whippy cane from the rest. “Let's try this one first.”

The cane sang softly through the air and struck Hank across his upper thighs. He lunged against the steel restraints, banged his head on the post and howled into the gag. The cane left a thin, red, raised welt across both thighs.

“What do ya think of that?” Barb asked, laughing as she bent over and examined the growing red wound, her soft hair brushing across the inflamed skin and lightly caressing his erect sex. “Must be quite arousing, judging by your dick’s attentive position,” she added.

Hank's head bobbed up and down, still hitting the steel post behind him and making a boinking sound each time it hit. Barb straightened up and looked Hank in the eyes, saying: “This won't do, Hank. I don't want you to literally knock yourself out. I need to fix this.”

She walked away, dropping the cane at his feet, and began pulling out drawers until she found what she wanted; several long, light chains with snap hooks on each end. She attached one snap hook to the top of the gag harness encompassing Hank's head and pulled it taut, wrapping the long end around the post and making sure that Hank's head was now slightly cocked to one side and firmly held to the post. There was no slack in the chain and Barb finished by snapping the end back onto the opposite side of the gag harness. Hank moaned into the gag and tried unsuccessfully to move his head.

“Now, Hanky,” Barb said with a childish mirth. “Let's see if we can arrange for another, more interesting target. She snapped one end of another chain to the front of his collar and then slowly guided the chain down over his chest and stomach, then pulled his already confined cock and balls upward, wrapping them with several tight turns of the chain, then snapping the end back onto the chain just below his navel. Working with the collar end of the chain, Barb adjusted it until Hank's sex pack was stretched upwards with his erection pointing away from his groin, temptingly displayed and ready for what they both knew was next.

“I think this session is going to end sooner than I thought it would, Hankie,” Barb said, taking a short-reach cat from the wall and swishing it about, letting Hank hear and feel it's effect as it sang through the still air of the closet. “But first there’s this funny little finishing nail, (or whatever it is), that I found in the drawer. I think it’s probably a decent fit and will certainly help you keep a stiffy while we do other things.”

Hank froze. A finishing nail? What the fuck was she talking about? Barb brought up her gloved right hand and put the small, shiny, silver metal rod directly under his nose. She was right, Hank thought. It did look like a polished nail with a flat cap on one end and a smoothly ground point at the other. It was about five inches long. Where could she have gotten that? He wondered.

And then it hit him. The little silver nail was part of the cock cage he wore. It came with the set, although Hank had never used it, fearing some kind of painful accident if he inserted the nail into his cock’s opening and put the entire length up inside. Just the idea of this pinioning of his dick made Hank shiver and he was hoping that Barb knew nothing about what the true use of the nail was.

“I have an idea, Hank,’ Barb muttered, sliding the silver rod slowly between her fingers and gripping his captive luggage in her left hand. “Let’s see if this thing will fit into the nice little hole at the end of your cock cage and then where it could go from there.

“Naghnooooo,” Hank whined into his gag.

“Oh, cone on Hank. I’ll bet you have used this little thing to enlarge and explore some of your girlfriends’ piercings, haven’t you?’

“Nahnooooooo,” Hank repeated, trying to twist his head and see what Barb was doling as she placed the pointed end of the rod into the hole in the metal cock cage and pushed it in. Hank immediately felt the cold metal probe touch the end of this dick and this was followed by the odd feeling of the rod’s point entering his urethra and begin the slow transition up the internal tube until the entire rod was no longer visible and Hank felt the strange sensation of having his already captive dick stiffly straightened and held firmly inside the cage.

Bet you never thought about having your cock spiked like a shish ka-bob, huh, Hankie?”

“Pheezee,” Hank muttered, feeling the deep penetrator well up inside his entire captive package. He had no idea what the effect would be if this metal thing was allowed to remain inside his dick, but the very thought of it was horrifying to him. He recalled the time he’d used a similar metal probe to enlarge and open up the pierced ring slot in Trudy Kramer’s somewhat enlarged clitoris and the noise she’d made while Hank slowly slid the metal rod back and forth in the pierced opening. In the end, Hank recalled quite clearly that he’d tied a string around the rod and used it to suspend some weights from the woman’s stretched clit. It was, Hank thought at the time, a unique and erotic use for otherwise annoying clit piercing. Now he was having second thoughts.

“I thought you’d like that, Hank,” Barb said, grinning. “I had to look around for the pin, but an old friend of mine, Trudy Kramer, told me what you did to her right here in your little den of horrors. Her description was quite vivid and I have thought about that ever since, hoping that I’d get the chance to do a pay back for her. Trudy said that it took about two weeks for her stretched clit to get back to any where near its normal length and that it never really felt the same. Wonder if that’s the case with your impaled dick?

Well, anyway, where were we? I was going to demonstrate how nicely that chained up mess between your legs is as a target for this little shortened cat.

“How many would you be giving me right now, Hank?” she asked. “Would you be whipping my pussy just as I am going to whip your shrinking dick and balls? How many, Hank, tell me by tapping your left foot.”

Hank froze on his post. No movement.

Barb struck without further warning, leaving a web or dark red imprints across the top of his thighs, just below his stretched cock and ball package. Hank howled.

“Ah, come on, Hanky. How many? If you don't tell me I'll have to guess. Maybe ten or twelve? Fifteen? I doubt you could stand fifteen. How about five. Slow and easy. It'll take longer to draw blood that way, Hank. Did you intend to draw blood with me or would you have just hung me up and fucked me a few times, probably in the ass, right?”

Hank didn't move, but his body shook now with terror. Tears ran down his bridled face and his chest heaved.

“Gee, Hank. You're bawling and I haven't even struck yet with my full female strength,” teased Barb. And with that, watching his face intently, she swung the cat again, this time with surprising skill and accuracy, a full force swipe of the nine leather thongs across his extended, captive cock and balls. Hank jerked and spasmed in the cuffs, screaming into the gag, trying unsuccessfully to find a way to avoid the next blow that swiftly followed the first. His sex was on fire and the area around it equally aflame from the single strike of the short flail. He couldn’t begin to imagine what pain would come from the next blow…or the next.

“Shall we count?” Barb said as she switched her grip on the leather wrapped handle, took a slightly different stance and delivered the third blow. “That's one, isn't it? I was distracted by the way your dick seems to be looking at me with that one winking eye. It looks angry. Bad, bad little prick…” Barb shouted and each time she said the word “bad” she flogged the helpless man's cock and balls. Hank continued to howl and sob.

No one counted. Hank literally passed out at one point. Barb checked to make sure he was truly out by delivering a double blow to each side of his ass. He didn't move. She dropped the flail, unlocked his left wrist and put the keys on a tight cable tie loop around his bloody and beaten sex so that Hank could just reach them. Then she put on her dress without bothering with the bra and panties already stuffed in her purse, and left the suite.

When he came around, Hank was barely able to touch his swollen genitals. Slipping the key loop off was excruciating. Finally free, he put a cold, wet towel on his crotch and lay on his back in bed until he went to sleep. He dreamt that his wife, Melinda, was watching him. It was not a pleasant dream.