The Silver Locke
The Silver Locke
(A Breanne Story)
With the Bonus Short Story Sequel
Heart of Ice
Michael Alexander Productions
The Silver Locke / Heart of Ice
Published by Michael Alexander Productions
PO Box 116652
Carrollton, TX 75011-6652
Copyright © 2011 by Michael Alexander Productions, Carrollton, Texas
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise, except as permitted under Sections 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without the prior written permission of the Publisher.
Limit of Liability/Disclaimer: The Publisher, Editor, and the Author make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this work and can not be held responsible for attempts to duplicate the activities or circumstances described within. The activities described within this work are fictional in nature. Any accidental references or similarities to real people and places are purely coincidental.
Cover Art by Michael Alexander
Chapter 1: The Interview
Thousands of red and gold leaves swirled in tiny whirlpools as the silver sedan sped down the smooth and even blacktop towards the building on the far hillside. Trees crowded close to both sides of the road, culminating in a dark tunnel that was slowly beginning to let in the murk of a darkening sky. Heavy rain clouds swirled overhead, threatening a massive downpour.
There was a crunching sound as the Chevrolet Lumina slowed and turned on to the private driveway. A large cast iron gate, attached to a motor, barred the way, forcing the sedan to stop. Slowly, the darkly tinted window came down revealing a girl’s face. Bright blue eyes, a spattering of freckles and the deep russet of auburn hair stared at the small intercom box and video camera that stood on a pedestal next to the driveway. She reached out and pressed the tiny white button.
There was a momentary wait and then a man’s voice. “Can I help you?”
She licked her lips. “Um…yes. I’m here about a job? I saw your advertisement on the internet. I would have called and set up an appointment, but the advertisement said to just come by.”
“Are you applying for a wait staff position, or entertainment?” the man asked, his voice seemingly polite and friendly.
She paused just a moment before answering. “Entertainment,” she replied.
“Excellent. The kitchen manager hasn’t arrived yet, so if you had been here for a wait staff position it would have been awhile. Please drive through the gate and come right up to the main door. I will be waiting for you there,” the man said.
There was an electric hum and the well cared for gate slowly opened. The soft hiss of her window rising followed and she began to move the car onto the property. The driveway curved around to the left behind a grove of trees and she passed a large well-painted wooden sign with metallic letters reading “The Silver Locke”.
Halfway up the hill she saw a large building, dark and foreboding, but modern in architectural style. Sweeping square columns formed an unloading area at the front door, covered with a porch like extension. It was easy to imagine limousines pulling up to the door, disgorging their occupants. Rows of elegant potted plants added an air of sophistication and elegance to the overall image. She pulled her car close to one of the columns, leaving more than enough room for other vehicles to get by. Carefully she grabbed her purse and stepped from her car.
Her auburn hair was loose and it cascaded down to her shoulders. She was wearing a small black dress, sleeveless and low cut, exposing a deep cleft between her breasts. It came down low, modestly when compared to the neckline, to almost her knees and she matched it with a pair of high heel shoes of the same color. It was just the right combination of sexy and elegant, but without screaming “slut”.
For just a moment she bit her lip, rethinking her entire purpose, when suddenly the front door opened. A thin man of about thirty-five years exited, his face beaming a welcoming smile. He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and a black blazer and his loafers were shined to perfection.
“Hello! I’m William Price, the entertainment coordinator. Welcome to the Silver Locke.” He held out his right hand with a beaming grin.
The girl smiled softly and reached out, taking Mr. Price’s hand in hers. “Breanne Erikson,” she said softly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Erikson. Why don’t you come in?” He released her hand after a gentle squeeze and motioned her to the door. “We aren’t open until five this evening, so we have a minimum staff here right now. In fact I think only our maintenance and cleaning staff is here, so I hope you will forgive me if we are interrupted by a vacuum cleaner on occasion.”
Breanne nodded. “That’s fine, Mr. Price.” She needed this job and she wasn’t about to complain about something so trivial. Who would?
He laughed as he opened the heavy wooden door, a fine silvery peal. “Oh please, call me William.” Breanne nodded politely, but without any intention of following that sort of request!
Immediately upon entering Breanne was stood inside a large foyer, easily as big as most regular sized bedrooms. A marble countertop stood to the right, complete with a coat and luggage check as well as several computers. The lighting was indirect and some amazing interior decorator had combined living plants with fine art, giving the cold stone features a warmer feel. A small door marked “Staff” was behind the counter, while an open walkway led off to the right, the long wood paneled corridor dark.
A second set of doors stood opposite them and together they crossed the foyer. Price pulled one of the heavy doors open and motioned Breanne to enter. She found herself standing at the back of a large room, filled with cloth covered tables and soft chairs. It was cast in shadow except for some bright lighting at the far end that seemed to be focused on a raised platform. In the very center of the stage sat a large wooden block. It was a dark mahogany, polished and glistening under the light.
Price stepped around her and Breanne followed him down toward the main stage. He motioned her to a table that had a small stack of papers sitting in front of one chair. Mr. Price pulled out the chair, allowing her to sit, and then gave her a gentlemanly smile.
“Comfortable, Ms. Erikson?” he asked as he sat down opposite her.
Breanne nodded and smiled demurely.
“Excellent. Well first, I have to say that you are incredibly beautiful. You seem perfect for our entertainment staff. Where exactly did you see our advertisement?” he asked, removing an expensive Cross pen from his coat pocket.
Breanne swallowed. “Well, I saw it on the internet,” she said, her fingers closing together in front of her. She concentrated on not showing her nervousness.
“I see. In one of the forums?”
Breanne nodded at Price’s question.
“Excellent. It’s nice to know those work,” he said with a smile.
Breanne nodded in agreement. Price looked down at his papers.
“Ms. Erikson, I know that you saw our advertisement, but I have to inquire if you are fully aware of the kind of private club the ‘Silver Locke’ is,” Price asked, a look of concern on his rugged face. He leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath.
Breanne looked around the room. It was fairly obvious what the Silver Locke was. She swallowed and nodded. “Yes I understand.”
Breanne shook her head. She had been expecting rules like that. “No sir. In fact, I have a copy of my latest blood test. The advertisement said that having a recent one would expedite the hiring process, but I’m not sure that I understand about the outside employment.”
Price nodded. “Well simply put, on occasion one of our guests requests one of the entertainers to provide private services for him or her, outside the club. Entertainers are certainly allowed and encouraged to do this, but you are only allowed to provide this service with our guest members. In essence, you can’t start your own escort service on your own time.”
“Okay, I understand,” Breanne replied with a soft smile.
“Excellent. Let me describe the basic activities that happen with our entertainment staff. First of all, as you can see we have a main stage and one small platform near the rear of the main floor.” Price motioned to the raised platform and then the rear stage, which was dark and barely visible. “We have approximately thirty entertainers on a shift. Monday through Friday we have two shifts, five to midnight and eight to two. Saturday and Sunday we open at eleven and close at three and have three shifts. The second starts at four. The third starts at eight. Basically put, during the dinner and lunch buffets, we are a typical dance club. All the entertainers are placed on a list and dance two songs on the main stage, then two songs on the back stage. The girls are then entitled to engage the guests.”
Breanne’s eyes were wide and she was listening intently. Price looked at her with a little concern. “Are you okay? You seem a little shell shocked.”
Breanne bit her lip and gave a tiny laugh. “Oh no, well…” she paused momentarily. “Yes, a little. I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be so orderly. You know, run like a business.”
“But it is a business; a very profitable one for both you and the club,” Price replied, his eyes flashing.
The red haired girl nodded. “I’m sorry. The last club I worked at was a little chaotic.”
Price shook his head and reached out, patting Breanne’s hand. “Not a problem. Now, where was I?”
“Engaging the crowd,” Breanne supplied.
“Oh! Right. Anyway, after the first hour we begin our auctions. The choices are by list or a guest can ask for a particular girl to be placed on the block. The entertainer is then auctioned off to the highest bidder and she and her purchaser then spend an hour in one of the eleven private rooms on the second floor of the building. We also have twenty private stalls at the back of this room for private dances.”
“I see,” Breanne said, looking to the back of the room.
“The stalls, while not being your primary source of revenue, is a great way to advertise yourself for the auctions. Every private dance is twenty dollars and those are how you want to encourage the guests to make a bid for you. The private dances can get steamy, up to actual sex. However, we frown on that because it devalues the auctions. Everything paid in cash is yours as take home pay. To be honest, while there is a lot of cash exchanged here, most of it is chump change.”
Price leaned back in his chair and continued. “The auctions are high dollar. I’ve seen some go as high as twenty thousand. The club gets half, and the other half goes to the girl being auctioned.”
“T-t-twenty thousand?” asked Breanne in shock. That much money wasn’t unheard of, but it usually took two or three months to make that much in the industry. To do so in one night was amazing.
Price laughed. “Those were some rare cases. Usually auction prices range between one and five thousand dollars. So you can see that you can really earn a lot.”
Breanne leaned back in her chair, still floored, but with a spreading smile on her face. Those figures were more understandable. Better than usual though.
“So are you still interested in interviewing?” William Price asked.
Breanne grinned and nodded. “What’s first?”
Price stood up. “First we see if you can dance. There are some props through that doorway if you want any of them. I’ll go up and get some music playing and then come back down here and see if you’re any good.”
Breanne looked at the doorway and then turned back to Price. “First dance down to under things, second nude?” Price nodded and gave her a thumbs up sign as he moved to the DJ’s booth.
She moved across the hall to the small stage door and stepped in. To her left was a table that held a few scarves, a few whips, a policeman’s hat, and numerous other items. Breanne took a moment and then smiled, grabbing up a small container whose contents rattled as she mounted the steps out onto the brilliantly lit stage. The sea of tables was dark and the spot light was bright. She walked to the edge of the stage and put the bucket down and then returned to the middle, putting one leg up on the large wooden block in the center of the stage.
The heavy beat of the music filled the room and Breanne immediately began to sway. Unable to see Mr. Price, she sauntered her way from the block to the front of the stage, letting her hips swing with every step. She had chosen her dress carefully, expecting to have to dance, and as she swirled in the bright spotlight and colored flashers, her fingers found the small zipper, pulling it downward.
In moments, the dress slipped off her body and fell to the floor. Her breasts, the size of ripe grapefruit, hung supported in black lace, and a tight tiny “g” string thong covered the dainty cleft of her sex. Once more she stepped forward to the edge of the stage, pleased to see Mr. Price staring at her.
She dropped to her knees, undulating in front of him, pushing her fingers against her breasts. She slipped down, sitting on the stage, spreading her legs wide apart, and then arching her back, her lithe body twisting like an acrobat. She continued as Price moved forward and sat down at the closest table, watching her intently.
Finally the song slowed and stopped and she winked at Price. As the first beats of the next song started, she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra. Dropping it seductively, she once more paraded herself up to Price’s table, shaking her breasts inches from his face. The large pink nipples were hard and Breanne found herself getting turned on. Her face flushed as she knelt at the front of the stage, twisting and sliding in one movement, pulling the g-string off and down her long legs. She spread her legs, opening the pink petals of her sex and plunging her middle finger into herself. She was very wet.
She twisted back again, standing up, and went to the small metal bucket. Picking it up, she brought it straight to the table Price was sitting at. She knelt down, spreading her legs wide apart, her clit swollen and pink, and her chest heaving in excitement. She reached into the bucket and pulled out a handful of clothespins, sprinkling them down on Price’s table like rain.
She smiled and nodded, mouthing the words. “Anywhere.” Her hips rocked back and forth to the music as William Price picked up a clothespin and held it to her left nipple. Breanne laced her fingers behind her head, tensing herself for the bite of the peg. Price let go, letting the wooden jaw bite down hard on her nipple.
In a flash she was up, twisting around the stage, the wooden clothespin dangling from her breast. She swayed and then once more approached Price who quickly picked up another clothespin. Breanne dropped down and spread herself again, yet pushed her bosom forward until Price reached up and clothes-pined the other breast. Breanne moaned and then sat back on her bottom, spreading her legs wide at the edge of the stage, nodding to Price to put just one more on. The pink lips of her sex were wet and her clit extended. William Price was no longer examining her for fitness, only reacting as a desperate man. He let the third clothespin close on her clit, a wooden mouth intent on her intense sensations.
Breanne rolled and once more got to her feet. She swirled, lifting her legs, bending, and rolling, the three clothespins still fast upon her. They bounced as she danced across the stage, Price’s eyes glued to her body. Bre flashed him a darling smile as the song ended.
“That was incredible! Do you have a lot of experience dancing?” Price asked as Breanne stooped to pick up her clothing, the clothespins still dangling from her naked body.
Breanne laughed. “A little. But it just wasn’t enough considering my tastes and interests.” Breanne felt much more comfortable with Mr. Price after seeing his face during the dance.
“Well grab your stuff and come back down to the table and we’ll talk and move onto the next part of the interview.”
Bre moved off the stage and went down into the back hall where she had found the bucket of clothespin. Carefully reaching between her legs, she removed the one that Price had clamped to her clit. She gave a slight moan as it came free and she paused long enough to slip her g-string panties back over her hips. Her dress slung over one arm, and both breasts still exposed and clamped, she exited out into the main hall and made her way to the table.
Price’s eyebrows lifted when she sat down in the chair next to him. “Now that’s certainly a distraction, Ms. Erikson.”
Breanne grinned and took a deep breath, letting her bosom rise and fall.
Clearing his throat, Price looked away for a moment and then examined the papers in front of him. “Okay, first I need to ask about your sexual orientation.”
“I’m bi-sexual” answered Breanne quickly.
“Any preference?” Price said while making a notation on his paper.
“Not really, but I admit that men come with the necessary equipment. Girls have to be more creative.”
Price chuckled. “Isn’t that the truth. Okay, next question. Can you give me a brief overview of your BDSM experience?”
Breanne took a deep breath, once more making the clothespin on her nipples jiggle. “Well I’ve had experience with humiliation, spanking, whipping, caning, waxing, ice play, food play, bondage, foot worship, objects, anal penetration, clamps obviously.” She lifted her hands to her breasts and once more jiggled her clothespins, much to Price’s delight. “Let’s see…I’ve done electrical play, Japanese rope bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial…um…that’s all I can think of off the top of my head.”
Price was busy writing. “That’s certainly a lot. You seem quite experienced. Now, were you a sub or a slave in any of your previous relationships?”
“I’ve been both. A sub is just submissive but still has control to call things off. A slave doesn’t have that right.”
“You seem knowledgeable and experienced, Ms. Erikson. I see from your blood test results that you had it taken two days ago and you’re clean. Your dancing is superb and you seem effable and friendly.” Price gave her a deep smile. “If I could I’d like for us to execute a little role play as the final test for hiring. I’ll be a guest of the ‘Locke’. Make your approach, solicit me for a private dance, and then we will move to one of the back rooms where you will give one private dance. Any questions or issues with that?”
Breanne shook her head. “Not in the least, though I would like a moment to get redressed.”
Price chuckled. “Certainly, though I must tell you that you look absolutely fetching in nothing but a g-string and clothespins.”
Breanne stood up and moved toward one of the dark corners of the hall. She thought she heard a vacuum cleaner on the top level above her, but she concentrated on preparing herself. She removed the two clothespins first, hissing through her teeth as her nipples throbbed. With quick motions, she hooked her bra, wrapping it around and over her breasts. Her dress was just as easy to get on, zipping quickly up the side, the spaghetti straps going over her shoulders. She looked back toward Price, who was reading over the papers on the table.
Her hips swaying, she walked back across the room toward her interviewer. Her long nubile fingers touched him on the shoulder and she gave him her best smile.
“Hi! I’m Bre, can I keep you company?” she asked, leaning over just a bit to let him have a look deep down her cleavage.
“Oh. I mean, yes. Certainly.” Price scooted himself away from the table and Breanne sat down in his lap, squirming just a little. Price wrapped his left arm around her waist and placed his right hand on her bare thigh.
Breanne cooed. “Mmmmm…now this is comfortable. Except for something hard that’s poking me on my bottom.” She gave him a petulant look, her eyes naughty and sparkling.
“Uh…Sorry about that. But you are beautiful,” Price responded. Breanne smiled again, realizing that the man was having a hard time delineating between interview and wonderful experience.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “Oh no…I like sitting on hard things.” She licked his ear lobe a little. “Want to play a little game?” she asked, her voice sultry.
“A game?” Price asked, a little confused. He had expected to be asked if he wanted a dance.
“Yes a little game. I like games. The game I want to play is called Tell Me. I ask you to tell me something, and if you do, then I get to touch you anywhere I want. Then you get to ask me to tell you something and so on.”
Price had never heard of it but was willing to let Breanne have the reigns. “Sounds fun.”
Breanne grinned, her mouth close to his ear. “Okay, tell me what part of my dance did you like the best?”
“Oh, that’s easy! The clothespins!” Price answered.
“I thought so.” Breanne replied. “Now I get to touch.” She reached down to Price’s belt and pulled his polo shirt out of his pants. Her hand reached under the cloth and she moved her hand up until her fingers grazed his chest, rubbing lightly one of his nipples. Price gave a little moan and then gritted his teeth.
“Now you get to ask me a question, anything at all” Breanne said, her fingertips still moving back and forth under his shirt.
“Okay…you said you’ve done objects. Tell me about the most interesting thing you’ve ever been fucked with.”
Breanne gave a little giggle. “It was a bottle of mineral water that had been frozen solid.”
Price gave a little start. “You’re kidding! A frozen water bottle?”
Breanne nodded. “Yep, had that up inside me at the same time I was putting out two votive candles with my breasts.”
“Did you enjoy it?” Price asked, totally shocked.
Breanne smiled and nodded. “You know, you get to touch me somewhere now.”
“Anywhere?” Price asked.
“Anywhere,” she answered, spreading her legs slightly.
Price’s right hand slid up her thigh, under the dress until his fingertips grazed the soft tiny triangle of gauze that covered her slit. With a few gentle passes, he rubbed her clit through the cloth.
“Oh no…Mr. Price. You’re supposed to touch ME, not my clothing.” Breanne whispered in his ear, once more tonguing him slightly.
She felt his fingers push the g-string aside and run through the lips of her sex, tiny slivers of touch that made her shiver.
“Mmmmm…that’s nice. Now, tell me how long your cock is.”
Price was still focused on the wetness surrounding his fingers. “Um…I’m not sure,” he stuttered.
Breanne lifted up a bit and slid farther down his lap, careful not to dislodge his hand. She reached down and stroked the large bulge in Price’s lap. “Hmmm…seems pretty long.” She looked at him in the eyes. “Care for a private dance, Mr. Price? I wouldn’t mind getting exact measurements,” she purred.
Price nodded. He pulled his hand away from her sex, noticing it was glistening. Breanne noticed too and grabbed his hand, bringing his finger to her mouth and sucking on it lustily. Carefully he stood, setting her down on her feet.
Knowing she was unaware of the location of the private rooms, Price led the way to the back of the hall, where a small carpeted corridor held about twenty private stalls, each curtained off. He walked to the first and pushed the curtain aside. A heavy plush settee stood near one wall and he quickly approached it and seated himself.
Breanne took only a moment to survey the room. It was only a few feet wide, carpeted to absorb sounds, with a single dimly lit overhead light that provided just enough illumination to see her body. She flashed Price a smile, her eyes sparkling, and she began to undulate before him, twisting and swaying as her hands roamed her curves.
But in moments she was slipping her black dress off, letting the material caress her legs on its fall to the floor. She stepped out of the fallen material and moved up to Price, pressing her lace-covered breasts into his face, his nose in the deep cleavage between each soft mound. His eyes were closed as he inhaled her fragrance and she took the opportunity to unclasp her bra, freeing her breasts. Price sensed the change and opened his eyes only to find his face firmly implanted between Breanne’s luscious breasts.
She smelled like a combination of fruit and flowers. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her spine as she began to rub her breasts back and forth across his face, a hardened nipple somehow finding its way through Price’s lips on each pass. Price couldn’t take it much longer, grabbing hold of her and sucking hard on her soft melon, her nipple taking the stabbing thrusts and slashes of his tongue.
Breanne closed her eyes, trying to concentrate over the delicious sensations Price was causing. Her fingers, which had been laced through Price’s hair, traveled down to her g-string panties and began pushing them down. Price finally came up for a breath of air and she stepped back, letting him ogle as she once more bared her carefully shaved slit, glistening pink with arousal.
She turned around and bent over, spreading her legs wide apart. Price looked at her, marveling at the pink button of her anus and the gapping petals of her sex. He started to reach out, wanting to touch, but she skillfully moved away, turning once more in a pirouette before suddenly seating herself down on his lap, grinding her bottom into the hard bulge she found there.
“Mmmmm…I seem to be getting good reviews…” she said, turning her head and twisting her body as he reached up to cup her breasts, his mouth planted on her shoulder. “Would you care for another dance?” Then Bre leaned close. “We could turn up the heat…” she whispered.
Price glanced down at his watch. Startled, he noticed that Breanne had timed her first dance perfectly, even without music, ending it right at three and a half minutes. He laughed softly and nodded. “Absolutely.”
Breanne pushed him backward against the side of settee, running her fingers over his chest and down to his crotch, caressing his cock through the cloth of his pants. “Let’s negotiate Mr. Price. I’m not cheap and we don’t usually turn the heat all the way up here in the private rooms. You have to buy me at auction for that…but I’ll make you a special offer because I think you’re sexy. Want to hear it?” She said, leaning over him, her breasts dangling before his eyes. Price could only nod, his mouth once more straining to suckle the globes of beauty being dangled before him like a carrot.
“Good boy. I’ll turn the heat all the way up and you hire me.” She whispered. Price’s eyes got big but before he could say anything her nimble fingers were unbuckling his pants, his button coming loose, and then he heard the tell tale sound of his zipper coming down.
He lifted up his hips as she pulled his pants down nearly to his ankles. She turned away only for a moment, reaching for her purse, one hand dipping into the black satchel while the other hand stroked Price’s hard cock through the red boxer shorts he wore. Suddenly his shaft was freed, rising up like a mighty sequoia, and she began to stroke him softly yet steadily. With practiced ease, Breanne slipped the condom over his shaft, make the application seem like a particularly fine stroke. Before Price could even notice, she had bent down and taken him in her mouth.
More of a massage than a blow job, Breanne Erikson bobbed her head up and down on Price’s rod as the man moaned loudly. His fingers had reached out to her, one hand sliding up and down her naked body, caressing her hips and thighs and then her breast, his other entwined in her hair, rubbing her head as she sucked on his manhood. She stood up and looked at him again, planting a quick kiss on his lips before she straddled him, her wet and ready sex on his chest.
“Ready to turn the heat up again, Mr. Price?” She asked, her eyes flashing with excitement. She reached behind her and gave his cock a quick squeeze. Price gasped and nodded. “Oh god, yes.” He replied.
Breanne scooted downward until she felt his shaft underneath her, pressing against the soft petals of her sex. It took only two slick slides of her body, the thick rod sliding up through the wet lips of her sex, before she was able to impale herself fully on Price. He let out a stunning groan as she took him deeply, feeling his cock totally encased in her wet warmth.
Breanne concentrated on pumping her hips as Price’s hands roamed her body, then tweaking her nipples. She let out a tiny cry of excitement as his fingers pinched her and her rocking increased. Price was no fool, and he recognized her reactions, his fingers twisting her nipples round causing her to buck like a wild horse. With his left hand he reached around to her ass and swatted it sharply, a loud crack filling the room that was as quickly followed by Breanne’s cry of wanton desire.
Price could tell she was close to orgasm, but the intensity in his own lust filled sex was too much and he arched his back, his muscles tightening as she rode him. He felt the sudden burst and he gritted his teeth, shuddering, as his cock began to spurt the white cream of his pleasure. He brought her down to him, holding her tightly as he came.
Breanne’s pleasure ended quickly and she looked down on Price, seeing the look of satisfaction in his face. Slowly, she lifted herself off Price and gave him a quick kiss. With practiced ease, she pulled off the condom and dumped it in the small trash receptacle in the corner.
Price sat up on the settee, his now flaccid cock slightly trembling, wanting to return to life as he gazed at her naked body. Breanne gave him a smile as she picked up her bra and panties, quickly covering herself. Her dress went on almost as quick as Price pulled up his boxers and pants.
“Well, Ms. Erikson. You certainly have demonstrated a capability tonight that far surpasses my expectations.” Price said, still adjusting his clothing.
“Thank you Mr. Price.” Breanne said, once more beaming her smile at him.
Price shook his head. “Please, call me William.”
“All right, William.”
Price took just a moment to collect himself, then took her arm, gently guiding her out of the back room and into the main hall near the stage.
“Please have a seat, Breanne.” Price said, pulling a chair out for her.
Breanne dropped down into the plush covered easy chair and looked at William Price as he sat, once more shuffling through the papers in front of him. For a moment, she felt a sudden trepidation that she had gone to far in the back room, but then the look of satisfaction on his face made her realize that she had gotten the job.
“Breanne, I think you will make a wonderful addition to the ‘Locke’, so I’d like to offer you conditional employment.” Price smiled.
“Conditional?” Breanne asked, suddenly not so sure of herself.
Price waved his hand in the air. “As I told you at the beginning of your interview, every forty or so minutes we auction off an entertainer for an hour. This is a BDSM club, and despite your wonderful show with the clothespins, we never know just how a girl will handle a true BDSM experience.”
“But I told you that…” began Bre only to be interrupted by Price.
“Wait. Let me explain. On your first night, you will be allowed to dance on the main and back stage, and solicit private dances. Once a few auctions have been completed, we will conduct an on-stage thirty to forty minute torture session for the main audience. We will provide you with a safe word so that if at any moment you want it to stop, we can pull you out without embarrassment.”
Breanne nodded. “But if I do, then I’m not hired.”
“Right. Of course, you would get to keep any money you had already earned that evening, but we would not want to put you or any of our guests in a situation where you were unwilling. There are no safe words after you are bought at auction.”
Breanne’s eyes opened wide. “None?”
Price shook his head. “None. Prior to the auction we announce the limits the girl has set on her use. We monitor the session to make sure that those limits are not violated, but anything within those limits can be done to the entertainer. So you see how important it is to know how she handles a true bondage situation?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that seems very logical. Any girl can come in here and do what I just did. It takes something a little stronger to handle bondage and discipline.”
Price laughed softly. “Not to mention sadism and masochism.”
Breanne smiled ruefully. “True.”
“In any event, I want to hire you. From what you’ve told me, you should be able to handle anything.”
“After the public torture session, would I be available to go up for auction?” Asked Breanne.
“Of course! Every entertainer is required to go up for auction at least once during the event. If you desire to go on the block more times during an evening, that is entirely up to you. Some of our entertainers only go on the block once, to ensure they are always in high demand. Some go from finishing their first auction session right back to the block. Some girls feel that they make more money on private dances. As long as you submit to your one auction an evening, everything works out.”
“I see.” Said Breanne.
“Anyway, you’re hired if you still want the position.” Price said, leaning back in his chair.
Bre looked up at the stage for a moment, considering. It was only four seconds before she turned back to Price. “When do I start?”
Price shrugged. “Whenever you want. Thursday evening is relatively slow. We usually get only forty or so guests, and we do provide a variety of services here. In fact, let me show you around and then you can decide when you want to start.” He stood up.
Breanne stood and followed as Price went to the stage door he had showed her earlier.
“Of course you know the stage stairs are back here, but if you keep going back through this doorway you come to the dressing rooms.” Price said, opening another door.
Together they walked into a well-lit dressing room. Racks of clothing stood in the center of the room and mirrored vanities with makeup, wigs, and hair care items stood along the walls. The room was huge.
“This is where the entertainers get dressed. We provide makeup, wigs, and costumes, since the occasional one gets torn or damaged. The dress sizes are easy to see and you can pick out either a permanent look or switch as the mood takes you.”
Breanne went to the clothes rack and saw a multitude of sexy fashion statements, from baby dolls to revealing evening dresses. She almost laughed when she saw the little schoolgirl outfits.
“Yes, I’m sorry to say those are popular when they’re on a few of the entertainers. You’re petite enough to wear those.”
Bre laughed, lifting the little white blouse up under her chin and posing, fluttering her eyelashes.
Price waved his hands in mock surrender. “Oh stop stop! I can’t handle getting hard again for you!”
Breanne grinned and put the shirt back. “Oh why not? Getting hard is good for guys!”
William Price chuckled. “Then please save it for the clients. I freely admit that I enjoy the perks of my position, but I’ve got to show you the club, and I still have to prep the show schedule for tonight.”
Bre looked at him. “Well you can put my name on it.”
“Yep. Nothing better than being stripped and tortured in front of forty guests.” Breanne said flippantly as she followed Price out a second door.
“These are the administrative offices back here. Down that way is David Trottman’s office. He’s the General Manager. This is the Food Manager’s office, Bob Richardson. And this is my office.”
Breanne peeked into a lush office that was easily twenty by thirty feet, with dark mahogany panels on the walls. The furniture would not have been out of place in a CEO’s office, and a lush, full sized couch and two easy chairs filled one corner of the room. Breanne couldn’t help herself from wondering how many entertainers had lain and been laid on that couch. A large window was centered in the wall behind the desk, a desk matching credenza under it.
“Wow.” Breanne said as she looked at the room.
Price gave a grin. “Well, there are good perks to some occupations.”
Breanne raised an eyebrow, “Like getting to interview the entertainers?”
“Absolutely, though I admit that such a thorough demonstration of an entertainer’s skills is rare. Come on. I’ll show you some of the other things we offer at the club.”
Even the administrative hallways of the club were elegant with lots of indirect lighting, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the heavy carpeting. Price turned a corner, pushing open another heavy door, and suddenly Breanne found herself back in the foyer entryway.
“This of course is where our guests enter. Through the main doors to our left is the main dining area and stages, where we had our interview. This door in front of us leads to some of our other attractions, and is available to our guests. And of course the door on your right is the entrance.” Price held out his hand, motioning her forward as he held open the smaller side door leading from the foyer.
Breanne found herself in another rich hallway, which was at least a foot wider than the administrative hall on the other side of the building. Obviously meant for guests, this hall had illuminated artwork and mirrors every few feet, which gave Breanne the impression of an art museum. They stopped at a heavy wooden door, bearing a golden lettered sign that said “Arena”.
Price nodded. “One of the other attractions.” He said as he opened the door.
Breanne stepped into the arena room and gave a startled exclamation. The room was circular with the very center of the room a large padded wrestling ring. It was circular and deep set, with large rubber sides that rose a full foot into the air. A brace of floodlights encircled the ceiling and three levels of dining tables circled the ring like wagons. Each table was set just as the main dining tables were; white tablecloth, red napkins, rolled utensils, and a small candle.
Breanne looked at Price inquisitively. “You have wrestling matches in here?”
Price nodded. “Occasionally. We like to schedule them at least once a month during football season and twice a month the rest of the year.”
“Is it like television wrestling?” Breanne asked, walking up to the heavy padded ring.
“Oh no. First of all, the wrestlers are specially trained entertainers, who of course wrestle sans clothing. Second, the ring is filled with baby oil usually, which provides an interesting complication for the wrestlers. And lastly you don’t win by pinning the other wrestler down.”
“What do you mean?” Asked Breanne.
Price stepped over to a small locker next to the ring that Breanne hadn’t noticed. He opened it up and pulled out a black silk bag that bulged oddly. Opening the bag, he pulled out an odd shaped glove with a huge ridged phallus on the end.
“Each wrestler wears one of these and the object is to insert it into the other wrestler.” Price said, a look of polite distaste on his face.
“Oh my God!” Breanne exclaimed, her eyes wide in astonishment.
Price shrugged. “Some of our guests like to see women who fight. We carefully select our wrestlers from the entertainers who volunteer.” Price put the phallic glove back in the bag. “We’ve never had anyone hurt and the gambling on the winners earns some extra revenue. Besides, there is something sexy about a girl covered in baby oil.”
Breanne bit her lip and nodded, unsure what to say.
Price laughed and headed toward the door, motioning her along. “I’ve never been a big fan of the wrestling matches. Come on, lots more to show you.”
“So, we have the Arena here, and the next door down the hall is our massage center. We keep six masseuses on hand, four a night. Massage costs two hundred flat out plus an optional tip.”
Breanne looked at Price with disbelief across her face. “Two hundred dollars for a massage?”
Price raised a finger. “Ah ah…an oriental sex massage. The masseuse uses her entire body and the price includes sex for the client.”
Breanne looked confused. “I don’t get it, Mr. Price. Why provide cheap sex back here when you’re trying to get the guest’s money during the auctions?”
“You need to understand, Ms. Erikson that our guests have more money than they know what to do with. The money is remuneration for services rendered. We provide a safe, quiet atmosphere in which to indulge their desires. The masseuses earn a great deal of money since they give quality massages, but they’re not willing to be bought and sold on the block. That’s their choice. Frankly, it’s too vanilla for most of our guests.” He sighed.
“Our clients have special desires and special requests come with that. When a guest asks for something specific, we make an effort to meet those requirements.” He gave her a wan smile as if remembering. He took a few steps.
“Once we had a guest who was turned on by being able to eat his dinner off the body of a girl. We explained that dinner would take an hour to serve and eat, and that it would run approximately two thousand dollars. We found one of our entertainers who didn’t mind being strapped down on a large platter in an uncomfortable position, filled to the brim with various food stuffs, fruits, and such, and then used as a plate for forty minutes. We’d bring her back to the kitchen, rinse her off, and she would be out on the dance floor in ten minutes, fifteen hundred richer.” Price sighed and shook his head. “I’m not a fan of some of the things our clients want, but as long as there is nothing illegal about it, no one gets hurt, and there is someone willing to satisfy their desire, then we provide it.”
Breanne nodded. “Have you ever told a client no?” She asked.
Price nodded. “A couple of times we’ve been forced too. Mostly it has been weirdoes who wanted something illegal on a federal level or things that even management found too disgusting to contemplate. You’d be surprised at the depths of human depravity.” He snorted.
Breanne bit her lip once and then looked away. “Well, it’s been a fascinating afternoon, but if I’m going to start at five tonight, I need to go get cleaned up.”
Price looked up startled. “Oh! God, I’m sorry. How inconsiderate of me. There are showers off to the side of the dressing room. Oh, and there is a rule, no sexual activity in the administrative wing, especially between entertainers.” He turned and began leading Breanne back to the foyer.
Breanne followed, chuckling. “Have a problem with girl on girl love?” She asked, swinging the strap of her purse over one bare shoulder.
Price shrugged as they stepped back into the foyer. “It’s a good house policy. Girl on girl is nice under the spotlight, but backstage it just makes for a mess, emotional and physical. Remember this is business, and you’ll be fine.” Price rose from his chair glancing at his watch. “I have approximately an hour and a half to get schedules written and posted, so if you will excuse me, Ms. Erikson, I will allow you to go freshen up.”
Breanne watched as William Price walked away, his sure and confidant steps taking him back out the main entry doors. For a moment Breanne just stood there, noticing the new hustle and bustle as the sounds of the cooking staff from the kitchen seeped into the room. Breanne turned and looked at the stage, imagining herself upon it, the room filled with men. It was time to get cleaned up.
Want more? Breanne's story continues!
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