rdodger
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Assumption of Risk
by Rajah Dodger {[email protected]} (c) 2017
Chuck considered himself an experienced guy. Since getting a good job, he'd enjoyed lap dances and an occasional furtive handjob at various topless bars, couch dances (self-service, look but don't touch) and table massages at grimy strip center storefronts. He wasn't ignorant of the more complete personal attentions available in town, but he lacked the desire to go looking on the street, much less invite a stranger into his house. Besides, there was something about hitting a $100 price point that let his brain override his gonads.
This week there was a new ad in the tabloid he read on his lunch hour. "Enjoy our new Domination Dungeon with Mistress Peril, first week only $50". He had some spare twenties in his wallet from the monthly poker game, and the price didn't sound outrageous for a specialized service. He checked the address -- good, it was far enough from his usual haunts that it was unlikely anyone would recognize his car.
Experience aside, he still got a nervous flutter in his stomach when he walked through the door, waiting in the small welcoming area for the attendant to come out and give him a once-over. The woman was blonde and bored, chewing gum as she pulled out a clipboard and rattled off a practiced speech with no perceptible pause for breath. "You been here before? Okay then, thirty dollars for a half hour, sixty for a full hour, no funny business, we got Esperanza tonight, she's a redhead from Chile, and we got Victoria who's a knockout blonde, chill for a few minutes and I'll bring them out."
Chuck finally got a word in edgewise before the blonde vanished through the side door. "What about Mistress Peril?"
"Mistress... Oh, you mean Penny. Hold on." The receptionist pressed a button on her desk, and in a few minutes a short brunette appeared and stood with arms folded over her chest, giving him a long appraising look. Chuck was taken aback; usually it was his privilege to pick and choose from the 'dancers' on staff; after all, he was the one spending his money. He got the distinct impression that whatever this girl was looking for, she didn't think he had much of it. Finally, she nodded to the blonde with a curt "Okay" and returned to the back.
The receptionist now pulled out a different clipboard and handed it to Chuck, reciting a different speech with the same lack of inflection or pause as before. "Fifty for the half hour special, show me your drivers license, sign here that you have no physical, mental, or medical issues that could cause a danger to you or anyone else absolving us of any legal liability and thank you."
Chuck skimmed the legal disclaimers, most of which he'd seen often enough to recite himself, and signed the clipboard. He opened his wallet and handed over two twenties, a ten, and his license. The blonde checked his license against the clipboard, put the bills under her counter and handed his license back. She pressed a buzzer, and a door on his right clicked open. "Okay, go through there, take a shower, don't put any clothes on afterward, just go through the back hall to the dungeon room and wait."
That was certainly different. Chuck had never been to a modeling studio or massage parlor where they wanted him to shower *before* the action. Well, maybe that went with the dungeon bit for some reason. Or else it was some cleanliness fetish of this girl Penny. No, he reminded himself, Mistress Peril.
The door opened to a narrow hallway, with a closed door on the left and an open door on the right. The open door led to a clean bathroom and shower facility where there was a wicker basket labeled "clothing", washcloths and bath towels, a loofah, an assortment of body washes and shampoos, and prepackaged toothbrush/paste and dental floss. Chuck shook his head. There was nothing remotely normal about any of this. He stripped down, adjusted the shower to a temperature he liked, and got in with a washcloth and one of the body washes. He definitely wanted nothing to do with a loofa that other people had used.
He showered, scrubbing all the usual places, and washed his hair quickly since he figured this was coming out of his paid time. A quick brush of his teeth, and then he dried himself off thoroughly. Putting all of his things into the wicker basket, he opened the door to check the hall and then walked naked to the end where the door bore the legend "Peril Awaits". Chuck grunted. This looked more and more like a waste of his lunch break.
Opening the door, he stepped into a large, dimly lit room, sparsely furnished and definitely chilly bringing goosebumps to his naked skin. Some kind of Eastern European music was playing faintly, strange harmonies led by an accordion. There was a wooden stool in the middle of the room, with a coffee table next to it. Padding barefoot over the cold concrete floor, he put his basket on the coffee table then settled onto the uncomfortable stool.
The dungeon, or whatever, was a gloomy place. In the dim light, the walls appeared almost blood-red. The ceiling seemed to be acoustical tiles. There were metal cabinets all along one wall. In one corner was a washbasin. Occupying the center of the floor area was a long heavy wooden beam, with handcuffs attached at either end. Curiosity pricked, Chuck got up to look more closely at the handcuffs. They appeared to be police-grade - he had reason to know the difference - and there were brown-reddish patches of what looked like rust on the metal. He sat back down, scratching at his thigh.
Just then a different door opened and the short woman from earlier strode in. She wore only panties and black glossy thigh-high boots, and carried a short crop, a singletail whip and an attitude. She looked sharply at Chuck, twisted her face, and cracked the whip not three inches from his ear!
When he picked himself up from the floor, the woman was bent over his face screaming. "Who said that you could sit down and just make yourself comfortable?" She marched around Chuck, heels snapping on the concrete, as he got up to his feet, eyes wary of the crop and the whip that whirred through the air around him.
As Chuck started to get his wits about him, he realized she was a VERY short woman - if you discounted for the heels, she must have been less than five feet tall. Dainty breasts with brown rubbery erasers for nipples. Latina, or possibly Asian from the appearance of her eyes. He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, though, as the whip kept snapping too closely for comfort.
"What are you? An accountant? A stockbroker? A lawyer?" Chuck started to respond, but she cut him off, her eyes intensely drilling into his. "Like I care? You're fifty bucks at the front desk and in here you don't get a name. You can call me Mistress." She sneered, looking his physique up and down. "I know what you're here for. I know what you're all here for. Behave and you'll get it. Don't behave and you'll really get it."
Mistress Peril - whose name was sounding more and more appropriate - turned away, the edge of her boot bumping against Chuck's cock and setting it swinging. Over her shoulder, she continued. "Go over to the beam and stretch your arms out." While Chuck hurried to get into that awkward position, she washed and dried her hands.
With little motion wasted, she strode around the beam and snicked each handcuff snugly around Chuck's wrists, then kicked his feet apart. "Wide. Wider." By the time Chuck had his feet settled to her satisfaction, he was practically hanging backward from the beam by his wrists and starting to worry that this woman took herself too seriously. Her hands moved over his skin, pressing here, squeezing there, scratching in other places. His cock didn't seem to have the same reservations that Chuck did, as it filled out and swung heavily.
"Fuck what's with you guys? Didn't Margie at the front tell you to shower thoroughly?"
Chuck protested, "But I *was* thorough!"
Heels clicked loudly behind him, then stopped, then started again as Mistress came around to face him. "If I say you weren't thorough, then you weren't thorough. You want to be sloppy, stay home. You want to take up MY time, you follow simple directions." Her hand came up with a wad of white cotton, and she jerked Chuck's jaw down and stuffed his own briefs past his lips before he could get another word out. He almost gagged, not from any issue with his briefs but just the loathsome dry texture of the cotton against his tongue.
Meanwhile, Mistress vanished and he heard the sound of water running. The next indignity was feeling her scrubbing his ass up down and sideways with a rough wet cloth, then smearing something slippery in that vulnerable spot. He jerked his arms, but the handcuffs were holding him tight. "You did sign the medical release, right?"
A cool strong hand gripped Chuck's balls and tugged his sac tight. Something was snapped around it, then a heavy weight jerked downward bouncing and tugging at his scrotum. Chuck's stomach dropped through the floor, even as his cock pulsed and throbbed in a solid erection. Something scraped on the floor behind him, and the next thing he felt was her panties sliding against his ass, rocking up and down. With something firm behind the fabric.
He struggled again against the handcuffs, and made whatever noises he could through his briefs while Mistress started humping her crotch against his ass. "You wanted a happy end, right?" Her laughter behind him burned in his ears. The weight under his balls bounced and his traitorous cock ached swollen and hard.
When she backed away from him, Chuck found himself pushing back - but that was just the posture she had him in, that's what it was. His head was foggy and confused as she strode around in front of him and jerked the briefs out of his mouth.
"Well this isn't one of those places. It's self-service. I assume you know how that works." She unfastened the handcuffs while Chuck frantically swiped his tongue against the inside of his mouth to chase the dryness away. "Looks like you've got plenty to work with now." She pointed at Chuck's cock, sticking out over the leather parachute and heavy weight stretching his balls. "Don't mind me, I'll just watch."
Embarrassed, cowed, and yet aching with swollen balls, Chuck wrapped a fist around his erection and started stroking. The bounce of the parachute made his stomach lurch, but it faded in importance as he grunted and jerked. His asshole flexed around the remnants of wet slippery stuff, and it didn't take very long at all until he was spewing cum down to the concrete floor, pumping until he sank to his knees unable to stay upright.
Mistress came over and pushed him onto his back, then unfastened and removed the parachute and weight from his balls. She hovered over his sweaty face, her eyes wide and deep, the look on her face not revealing anything of her thoughts.
"Clean that stuff off the floor before you leave. Margie's not paid to scrub the messes you guys make."
And with that, she turned and strode self-assuredly out of the room.
:: AFTERWARD ::
The petite brunette and the older blonde chatted in low voices at the reception desk, their eyes on the security camera display. A man walked from the storefront door across two rows of parked cars until stopping at an upscale sedan. He wiped his forehead, then looked at his watch. The man's lips moved, wide and emphatic, but of course the security camera provided no sound.
"Forty minutes, Penny. That's shorting the time even for you. You're gonna catch it from Madame Yee."
"Yeah, yeah, sure Margie. Just watch."
The man slammed his fist onto the roof of his car, then turned to glare toward the front door. For a moment it looked as though he would come marching back. Instead, shaking his head, he opened the car door, got in and drove off.
"He'll be back - he'll wait a little over two weeks and then he'll come back. And it'll be full price then. He'll even ask for something extra - he's got the money for it. Want to put up twenty saying I'm wrong?"
Margie shook her head. "Not likely, Penny. I owe too much from my other bets against you."
Penny laughed, her voice pure and deep and wholly satisfied with herself. "I could let you take it out in trade, you know. I do prefer older women." Still laughing, she vanished into the back of the suite.
///// END /////
_____________________________
Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent
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