Almost exactly an hour’s drive from Mr Stern’s house is what is euphemistically referred to as an erotic nightclub. It is, in fact, a swinger’s club, a place I’ll call Paradise. I’d never heard of Paradise until I started hanging out with kinky and sexually adventurous people and even then, opinion varied wildly on whether it was a hole in the wall not worth the time and cash, or simply one of many places to meet people, have fun, and explore all that the world has to offer.

I found out from Mr Stern, probably a few months after we met, that he was an occasional visitor to Paradise and that he enjoyed it for a variety of reasons. From the voyeuristic thrill of watching other people fuck to the ego-building game of showing up with a hot young woman, there are plenty of reasons for a man who is not afraid of sex and skin to enjoy the place. My only exposure to the idea of going to the club for over a year was when Mr Stern threatened to take me and let as many men as wanted fuck me – usually as a result of me doing something slutty, greedy, and hot.

Then a few weeks ago I was at Mr Stern’s house, doing my usual chores when he told me to sit on the couch and wait for him. As I recall, I was in trouble for doing something I shouldn’t have, so I had no idea what might come of my waiting. It wasn’t until he told Alexa, on the phone, that he was taking me to Paradise that I had any idea what was happening. I sat there, watching him talk, and tried to figure out just how the hell I was supposed to react to that news and trying to guess what he might have in mind once we got there.

The car ride seemed interminably long. I couldn’t sit still but I also couldn’t fidget without earning a sharp look and a slap on the thigh. When we finally pulled into the parking lot, I was a nervous wreck. Thankfully I was wearing a pretty skirt and a cute blouse, although my shoes were less than spectacular, and I figured I could probably get by without feeling completely under- or over-dressed.

That first night at Paradise involved a lot of watching, waiting, avoiding eye contact with a gaggle of men, and Mr Stern teasing me to the point of eruption. I kept all of my clothes on for the entire time, never touched or was touched by anyone except Mr Stern, and still managed to desperately need an orgasm by the time we left. While we were there I hid behind Mr Stern’s right shoulder most of the time to deny other men the privilege of catching my eye and initiating any kind of conversation.

Half way through the time we spent there, Mr Stern tired of me standing with my hands on my hips and decided I needed a lesson in how to appear more ladylike. He got a length of rope from his bag (the one I now know as his Paradise bag) and tied my hands securely behind my back. This simple act garnered the attention of half a dozen men all hopeful that it would lead to more sensuous activities. No such luck. Afterwards, I just followed Mr Stern with my hands tied behind my back, still avoiding their eyes.

I saw a lot of men with their cocks in their hands, a few women surrounded by men with their cocks in their hands, and even fewer people actually fucking. There was some dirty dancing going on in one room, a few people entertaining each other in front of the porn on the TVs, and hints of raucous activities behind closed doors. Before we left, Mr Stern and I sat down to watch one woman take on three men at the same time. I was squirming in my seat with the thought of being her – of having Mr Stern direct three strangers in fucking me and feeding me their cocks. He saw my discomfort and slid his hand up my skirt, teasing me so no one else could see. My cunt was wet and squishy by then and his hand only made it worse.

Just like watching people being whipped or caned or spanked, watching people fuck has basically lost it shock value for me. I still enjoy the purely erotic aspect of it, but seeing naughty bits exposed doesn’t make me blush or want to turn away like it used to. Hearing people fuck or come is intriguing because it is unusually intimate and, like Mr Stern said, sometimes more interesting than actually watching because you get to use your imagination.

In a building full of mostly naked people doing socially unacceptable things, I felt like the odd one out. I was a newcomer unfamiliar with the surroundings and the protocol but I tried not to let that stop me from enjoying the sights. I tried not to act self conscious but the eyes that constantly followed me made it a little challenging. Mr Stern was as self assured and confident as always, and I’m pretty sure he was aware of the envious glances he garnered as we passed.

Last night I was at Mr Stern’s house again. My only clue that something out of the ordinary might take place had been his message to bring something sexy to wear, but other than that I had no clue what he had planned. Until I walked into his bedroom to fold laundry and saw the Paradise bag on the bed. Two and two equals four. A sexy outfit and a little black bag equal a night with the swingers. Perhaps?

Even as I made sure the kitchen was spotlessly clean, even as I changed into my sexy clothes, even as he and Alexa perfected my outfit and admired my shoes, even then I didn’t know for sure what was going to happen. Alexa even asked me.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

“No. I have a vague idea, but I haven’t been told anything specific yet,” I admitted. She hugged me, we whispered our joy at seeing each other again, and I went out to the car to wait for Mr Stern.

He settled into the car, tossed his bag on my lap, and said, “Buckle up, slut. We’re going to Paradise.”

The second time around is always so much better than the first with Mr Stern. Every time he brings one of my fantasies to life, each successive iteration tops the previous one and this time was no different.

The walk to the front door of the swinger’s club is always the hardest part. That is when I glance at the cars driving by and wonder if anyone I know is watching me go in. Then I’m inside the safety of the lobby and the leering begins.

I stuck to Mr Stern just as closely this time as I had the first time, using his body to shield mine from prying eyes and allow me the freedom of not having to decide where to go or who to interact with. He wandered, pronounced his dissatisfaction with the amount of activity going on, and finally settled on a couch in front of a flat screen TV showing the requisite porn.


He pointed at the floor next to his right knee and I knelt beside him. Because Paradise is not explicitly kinky, kneeling next to him set me to wondering what others would think. Do sexually adventurous people understand the peccadilloes of kinky people? Are they aware of what me kneeling beside him symbolized? Do they care?

Disregarding the porn, we talked about mundane topics and waited for the excitement to start. A few men, bolder than the rest, walked between us and the TV trying to get a better look at me or catch my eye. I was steadfast in my refusal to show any interest in anyone other than Mr Stern. I was terrified of what he might decide to do with me if he saw me exchanging smiles with another guy. Sharing a slut is always a good idea in a place like this and I was afraid of being eaten alive.

A few more minutes of wandering and Mr Stern decided we were going to have to create our own excitement if any was to be had.

For those of you who are as unenlightened as I was a few months ago, Paradise is a large space turned into a rabbit’s warren of hallways and rooms. Some rooms are completely private with doors and no windows and barely enough room for a mattress the size of a double bed. Others are wide open orgy spaces with enough room for half a dozen or more bodies at once. Most of the rooms remind me of train cars – the length of a mattress set on a built-in platform – with a door and a window. Club etiquette states that open curtains mean peeping is allowed while closed curtains and closed doors are not to be disturbed.

Mr Stern chose a room right off of one the main gathering spaces. He walked in, set his bag on the mattress, and closed the curtains and the door. Soon enough I was bent over the bed with him pressed against my hip, spanking me through my skirt. He warmed up slowly, the blows sounding unnaturally loud in the partially enclosed space, until he was ready for me to lose the skirt and assume my ass-up position on the bed.

I hadn’t consciously realized Mr Stern packed his singletail and cat in his Paradise bag until he laid them out on the bed, along with a small flogger and some rope. He chose the whip first, continuing the warm up and getting me to that soft, warm place I go when he hurts me so sweetly. He kept the curtain on the window to the outside space closed until I was well warmed up and making my low moaning sounds of pleasure.

When Mr Stern opened the curtain I became aware of the conversations filtering in over the wall, cleverly built six inches shy of the ceiling. I floated on the voices as he switched to the cat and then the flogger. Men’s voices – admiring what they could see of my rear-end, clucking over the redness Mr Stern had created, and wishing they could kiss the hurt away. Someone remarked that I must have been a bad girl, paused a second, and said, “Or a very good girl.”

I wriggled with the thought of complete strangers seeing me on display this way. I wriggled even more when I thought of how jealous so many of the men must have been of Mr Stern and how much pleasure he was getting from showing me off. By being admired, I was pleasing him and this pleased me to no end. I heard the guys talking about how hard he was hitting me and bemoaning the fact that I was out of their reach. Throughout all of this, Mr Stern was talking to me, letting me know that the men were watching, that I had an audience, and how slutty my enjoyment of this made me.

When I was sufficiently warmed up so that the cat tails no longer seemed to bite in and the direct hits on my cunt with the singletail didn’t make me cringe unbearably, Mr Stern brought the flogger back and laid it down with heavy blows. He hit the outside of my hips where the flesh was numb but the tissues soft and sensitive. I moaned until I couldn’t hold it in any more. Then I started crying out and rocking back on my knees. Mr Stern asked what I was doing, taunted me for shoving my cunt out where everyone could see it, and finally yanked my legs out from under me.

I ended up face down on the thin mattress, shivering from the cold and the pain, breathing deeply and happy as a clam in the mud at high tide. Mr Stern asked if I had brought my blanket and teased me for not having it, then went and found an extra flannel sheet for me to wrap up in. He closed the curtain, cut out the spectators, and sat next to me while he drank a bottle of water. His hand caressed my back while my head pressed into his thigh and I remembered exactly how much and why I love him.

Mr Stern let me linger in the fog for a bit while he relaxed. He left to use the restroom and see if anything exciting was going on in the other parts of the building and I held my breath until he returned. There was little chance of me being accosted by a stranger but it was a dim possibility. In my state the only thing I could have done was exactly what Mr Stern said – scream.

Thankfully my trip into subspace was uninterrupted by molesters. I rolled over and opened my eyes to look up at Mr Stern a few minutes after he returned.

“How is my little slut?” he said gently.

“I’m doing very well, Mr Stern,” I replied cheerily.

“Are you enjoying your floating away?” he asked.

“I didn’t really go that far,” I said hesitantly.

“Is it because you didn’t want to let yourself go or because you didn’t need to?” he asked. He turned towards me, shoved my blouse down, and grabbed a nipple.

“Owie! It’s… it’s because… because I wouldn’t let… I wouldn’t let myself!” I insisted, my words hopping around the pain.

He yanked on my nipple until I arched my back away from the mattress. My head was tipped back in protest and I knew as soon as I felt him moving towards me what he was going to do. His hand clamped down on my throat.

“Don’t you dare say it’s because it wasn’t enough,” he warned gruffly. I dragged a breath through my constricted windpipe and shook my head as fiercely as I could. His forefinger and thumb pushed against my throat and forced his collar up around my chin. I felt the thin coldness of it in a place it does not belong and the incongruity of that touch burned its way into my brain. The pain in my nipple still had me trying to push up into his hand.

“No, Mr Stern,” I whispered. He had beaten me quite thoroughly and I was in no way blaming him for my efforts to stay semi-lucid. I just wasn’t comfortable enough with the surroundings to let myself go completely.

He let go of my throat and eased up on my nipple. I collapsed as far as his grasp would let me. The hand that had been on my throat was redirected towards my cunt. My body was already singing from Mr Stern’s whip and cat and now he wanted it to beg and plead.

Mr Stern bent over me with one hand on my cunt and one on my nipple and started teasing. He pinched, bit, sucked, and twisted my nipple until I was breathless with desire and arousal. He tapped, rubbed, pinched and caressed my cunt and my clit until I was aching for release. Because it is so hard to get me to come without just the right touch, I just couldn’t get over that edge.

At one point Mr Stern pressed the heel of his hand against my clit and ground down on it. I was whimpering with the pain and the pleasure, unsure whether it hurt terribly or was terribly erotic. I moaned and squirmed trying to get away from him but he had me pinned firmly against the mattress with the weight of his body and his hand.

Throughout all of this, I was mindful of the way my every noise carried through and over the thin walls and tried to keep my outbursts to a minimum. No one could see us at this point but I didn’t want anyone imagining what was going on. Even as much as I get off on being watched, sometimes my shyness takes over and I actually do get embarrassed.

When he decided I’d suffered enough sensual torture, Mr Stern lay back on a pillow and wrapped an arm around me. He held me against him for a long moment then spoke.

“Get up on your knees.”

I knelt next to him and his hand worked its way between my thighs and towards my cunt. I spread my legs and raised my hips a little to allow him freer access. He worked his fingers over my already sensitive clit, teasing me with little strokes and scratches. I opened my legs as wide as I could and leaned into him, drawing my breaths through my mouth as his fingers worked harder. Soon enough I was moaning out loud, rocking with the rhythm of his touch, unmindful of the noise I was making. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down around his knees with one hand while he kept me writhing with the other.

“Take my cock out,” he said.

I eased his boxers down and grasped his cock in my left hand. Unsure of whether I had permission to actually stroke him or not, I waited until he prodded me into action. Then I leaned closer, almost close enough to smell him, and moved my hand lightly over him. He was teasing me with his fingers over my cunt so I started teasing him. I had to work to keep my attention focused on pleasing him, but I must have been doing a good job because his cock stayed plenty hard.

“You want to suck my cock, slut?” he asked when I started licking my lips and watching my hands slide smoothly over his satiny-soft cock.

“Yes, Mr Stern,” I admitted.

This time he made me wait until he was good and ready before he rolled off the bed, dug a condom out of his pants pocket, and stood next to the bed. He presented his cock to me, still fully erect, and growled at me to suck it. I knelt on the bed and wrapped my hands and mouth around him in the same moment. The curtain on the window was still closed but once Mr Stern got into the feel of having my mouth on his cock, he reached over and opened it just an inch.

If someone had been curious enough, they could have peaked through the space he’d made and seen what I was doing. Because of the way he was standing, they wouldn’t have seen much more of Mr Stern than his cock, but that was the way he wanted it. At least for now. After another few minutes of me on my knees, naked, on the bed with his cock in my mouth he wanted to share. As I watched out of the corner of my eye he tugged the curtain open even more.

A small crowd of perhaps ten people stood not four feet away from us but none of them paid any attention to what we were doing. Their attention was focused on each other – a woman with her breasts exposed surrounded by half a dozen guys with their cocks in their hands, two women making out surrounded by another half dozen guys – you get the picture. Mr Stern commented on all the action, grabbing my head to show me what naughtiness was taking place, then directing me back to his cock. I sucked and swirled and licked his cock while he gradually opened the curtain more and more.

I don’t know if anyone ended up watching us – I like to think not but I’m sure there were at least a few spectators. At a place like Paradise, most of the glory goes to the brave and lucky few who actually have a partner and decide to fuck. The rest spend their evening hoping to see something hot or even better, being asked to join in.

“You better do a good job there, slut, or I might have to find somebody to fuck that slutty little ass of yours,” Mr Stern warned. I had started my period the day before so ass fucking was the only item on the menu, seeing how neither Mr Stern nor I was interested in a bloody mess.

“Yes, Mr Stern,” I mumbled around his cock.

Of course, my cunt tightened with delight at the thought of getting ass-fucked by a complete stranger, but my rational mind knew it would be far less enjoyable than my cunt seemed to think. Mr Stern wasn’t ready to give up on the idea yet.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having some guy stick his cock in your ass while you suck my cock. Does that turn you on, you fucking little whore?” Mr Stern was speaking quietly, just loud enough for me to hear, while he watched my mouth move on his cock.

I didn’t want to nod but I forced myself to agree with him. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved his cock down my throat, rubbing the tender spot at the back and pushing past it. I gulped air through my nose when he released the pressure, fighting back a gag.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

I took my mouth off of his cock, let my hands drop from his balls, and turned my back to him. Because I knew what he wanted and because I wanted to hide, I buried my face in the extra sheet and left my ass exposed. I was still wearing my thong underwear and after Mr Stern stripped off the flavored condom and put on a regular one, he pulled the thin piece of fabric aside.

He rubbed the head of his cock over the soft skin right over my tailbone. That little indent, he says, is one of the softest places on my body and he likes trailing his cock over it. I breathed deeply and moaned a low sound in the back of my throat, running bits of fantasy and porn through my head. I was more than ready to be fucked.

Something about my anatomy seems to confuse cocks that want to slide into the refuge of my ass. Something about the way I am built leads them to believe that my asshole is half an inch higher than it actually is. Unless one is in very good light and watching intently, finding my actual hole seems to present a challenge that frustrates everyone involved. This time was one that fell into this category.

Mr Stern pushed gently, and then with more insistent pressure, against what he thought was my asshole. I wriggled and arched my back trying to get his cock in the right place. He drew back, lined up again, and led with his cock. I tilted my hips, leaned forward, and opened myself to him. It just wasn’t working. His angle was wrong and his cock was going nowhere.

Out of pure desire and passionate need, I reached back around my hip, wrapped my hand around his cock, and guided him to the right place. I nudged the head of his cock against my anus, breathed deeply through the first sensation of stretching, and kept my hand firmly on his cock to guide him in. There was no lube on the condom, just a little saliva he had let fall from his mouth, but it went in nonetheless. As he pushed into me another inch I used my fingers to pull my ass open wider. Then he pulled out a bit and dribbled more saliva down the crack of my ass.

When his cock was firmly and deeply seated in my ass, I moved my hand back to my side. Never, during the whole time that I have known Mr Stern, had I ever taken charge like that. I had never grabbed him without express permission and a direct order and never put his cock where I wanted it. I was too distracted to think much of it then – I had a vague hope that there would be no repercussions – as he started fucking me in earnest.

“You want to touch your clit, slut?” Mr Stern asked kindly as I rocked my ass back onto his cock. The condom dragged and pulled as he thrust and I moaned through the tingly pain.

“Yes, please, Mr Stern,” I whimpered, tearfully desperate to relieve the ache he had built over the last few hours.

“Go ahead, slut,” he said accommodatingly.

My thighs were pressed together so I wriggled as much of my hand as I could get between them, pushed my panties aside and dove in. The panties were almost soaked through with cunt wetness and I was making more and more lube by the moment. With Mr Stern fucking my ass and my fingers on my clit, I was in seventh heaven.

I know how to touch myself if I want to make myself come, or if I want to wait, or if I want to pretend like I am touching myself. I can avoid my clit while making it appear I am enjoying myself greatly but this time I had no such plans. I wanted to come with Mr Stern’s cock in my ass because doing so is one of my hottest fantasies. I wanted to have one of those breath-stealing, body-quivering, toe-curling orgasms I can rarely invoke on my own.

The fact that people were listening (were they still watching? Had he left the curtain open? I didn’t have a clue but prayed fervently that he had not) flitted across my mind with all the weight and speed of a dragonfly. I didn’t give a flying fuck if everyone heard the sound of me begging him to fuck my ass harder, of his thighs hitting mine, of my cunt slurping at my fingers. I wanted to come.

“Please, Mr Stern, may I please come?” I asked, trying to raise my head off the mattress just a few inches so he could hear me.

I was within spitting distance of a massive orgasm – he was fucking me brutally, his cock buried up the hilt in my ass, and I was gliding with perfect pressure over my clit. The fantasies of earlier, the constant run of porn and humiliation, had given way to real life and the sensations in my ass.

“Go ahead, you fucking little cum slut,” he grunted, jerking back and surging forward.

Three more circles with my finger and it erupted. The kind of climax that leaves me sore throated from groaning so hard. The kind that tries to forcefully eject whatever happens to be in my ass. The kind that renders me both blind and deaf for long seconds. The kind that leaves me light-headed and gasping for air. That is the kind of orgasm I had with Mr Stern’s cock in my ass.

The silence that surrounded me after I emerged from myself was stunning. No idle chatter in the room next door, no murmur of gathering outside our door, no voices at all. It was like everyone had stopped to listen to me beg and then come. As Mr Stern continued to fuck my ass, I blushed to my hairline and winced bashfully, glad he couldn’t see my face.

Mr Stern wasn’t far behind me in erupting. I could feel his cock getting harder and stiffer, thrusting into my surprisingly still-willing ass, as he neared his own pinnacle. I groaned with the new stretching and, because it pleases him, I fucked his cock with my ass. His hands clenched and fingers dug deeper into my thighs as he came inside of me. Mark one more fantasy off of my “to do” list and put it in the “been there, done that” category.