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TPCLUB02 men (the leading men least)


This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind. If you are
offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or
unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this type
of material is illegal where you are, don't read any

This is a fantasy. You will have to loosen your clench on
reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in which
physical acts and human responses are not limited to, nor
necessarily based in, reality. Some acts and responses in
this story may be physically impossible and/or
physiologically improbable.

Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this
newsgroup, all the women in this story are beautiful;
gorgeous, even. Gravity has not caused their breasts to
droop nor have creased wrinkles their unblemished faces.
The men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.
They can get it up and keep it up often and at will. In
this special little fantasyland, there are no STDs, morals,
or unwanted pregnancies; and guilt is a four-letter word.
But most important of all, no amount of strength of
character, courage of convictions or moral beliefs stands a
chance against an erotic stimulus. This can be as benign
as an accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating
as a whipping on the genitals.
For those of you who didnít understand the preceding
statements, GO AWAY!

This story is intended for the salacious entertainment of
consenting adults. Do not try to do any of the things
described in this story. You will injure yourself or your
partner. Or be arrested, or shot by her father....

If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY! This story will
burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.

If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited where
you are, GO AWAY!

By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility for
any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure that
result from reading this story. If you donít, GO AWAY!

You have been warned!

If you enjoy this story and feel the urge to post it on a
<free> site, at least give me (NightShade) credit for it.

So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy the


The President's Club
by NightShade

Chapter 2

first posted 4/97,major revision 12/98

That had been two weeks ago.

Karin had crawled painfully up the stairs out of the
basement, then up more stairs to her room. She hurt all
over. She was confused. The next day, she was efficiently
moved to a small apartment in one of the companyís
commercial warehouses downtown. Not an excess word was
exchanged between the three of them. Bill had the cook had
come in to her room early in the morning and pack a few of
her things while she was in the shower. By the time she
made her way out of the bathroom, there was a pair of
shorts and a halter-top laid out on the bed. She dressed
herself in those and she left the mansion in a taxi. She
wasnít offered any breakfast.

The building they moved her into was in one of the older
industrial sections of town. The apartment had it's own
separate entrance via the parking garage. Originally it
had been designed to house an on-site General Manager of a
factory. Built in the twenties or thirties, it was big and
solid. One of the previous owners had sealed off and
isolated from the work area. The factory was long since
abandoned, and the building was now used as an overflow
storehouse for raw materials. The inside of the warehouse
was gritty with dirt, vermin and disuse. The apartment,
although separate, had been vacant for a long time and some
of the grime of the warehouse filtered into it. It was
dirty, smelly, and in the middle of nowhere. As far as she
knew, Bill had intended this to be an insult to her.

She identified with the little apartment, however. It felt
like she and it belonged together.

Just before she had closed the door to the taxi, the cook
had shoved an envelope into her hands. She sat down and
read the short, terse note inside. She learned that Bill
had provided her a bank account. Each week, money would be
deposited into the account automatically, provided she
'behaved herself.' Food would be delivered by a Ďlocalí
store, all she had to do was call and order. There were
directions for her to go shopping for a suitable dress at a
fancy boutique the next week.

Bill would have been astonished had he seen his beaten
wifeís expression. Karin was literally astonished at her
new wealth and the wonderful apartment. She had more money
now than she ever had before, and she was happy to be alone
on her own. She sat for a long time on the dirty couch,
hugging herself, laughing joyously at her freedom.

She immediately threw herself into various diversions.
Part of the first day was spent examining the rooms,
determining what needed to be done to fix up the old
apartment. There was surprisingly little to do, other than
cleaning. It had apparently been a luxury apartment at one
time with an extra-large bath, a beautiful rooftop patio
with a hot tub, and good quality solid furniture. But that
had been several years ago, as was obvious from the out of
date fabric and fashion of the furnishings.

Karin had plunged into what she knew best. Hell, it was
all she knew how to do. Housework. She had swept and
cleaned and scrubbed, put up new drapes. dusted and swept
and mopped the floors. The activity helped keep her mind
occupied. For about a day and a half. Then she set about
re-arranging the furniture to her liking.

During the re-arranging process, she discovered that Bill
had lived in the apartment, long ago, when he was just
starting out. This must have been one of the first
buildings to house his companyís manufacturing plant. She
discovered a section of a diary kept by a much younger
Bill. The bound notebook had been wedged down behind a
section of a bookcase and the wall. It had apparently
fallen down and was forgotten when he moved out. She
didnít know at first what it was and was about to toss it
out when a clipping from an old newspaper fluttered to the

Picking up the clipping, she read it. Her interest piqued,
she leafed through the book, looking for other information.
What she found stunned her. The diary picked up in the
middle of an involved plot, as this was just one section of
a multi-volume diary. The more she read, the more familiar
names she read, names she had heard in the last six months.
They were the names of Billís competitors and clients.
Some were unfamiliar. But she got the gist of it. In
Billís own writing were detailed plots he had made to
destroy one of his rivals. As far as she could see, the
only thing the rival had done was to be an honest
businessman. There were several sneering passages about
how goody-goody the bastard was.

At first, she thought the plotting had just been theories,
mock rage stuff. Then, as she read the daily entries, the
chilling story unfolded. It told how, after careful
planning, Bill had set in motion a fabrication of lies and
half-truths that had wiped the man out. The passages
became savage, describing the depths to which the man had
fallen. Bill described how the man had come to him, not
knowing it had been Bill who had planned and started the
whole thing. Bill described how he had Ďhelpedí the guy
out Ė for a price, of course. That price was a partnership
in the failing company.

What chilled Karin to the bone was that the old newspaper
clipping was the story of the gruesome murder-suicide of
the broken man and his wife. A couple of the passages in
the diary led her to believe it had not been a voluntary
suicide, but that someone, namely Bill, had been there to
help him out of his misery. The same misery Bill had put
him in.

The thought that Bill was that calculating, that cold, that
unfeeling hit her like a hammer. It suddenly became very
clear to her that she had to grow up, take charge of her
life. Now, this didnít happen like a bolt of lightning
from the sky, but the mental shift was there. Being alone
and on her own for the first time helped. But she also
realized that she was totally unprepared for living in a
cruel world.

Such deep thoughts were frightening to her. She tried to
keep as busy as she could during the day by exploring the
blocks surrounding the apartment. She would walk for
hours, pushing her body until the soreness from the beating
was indistinguishable from the soreness of the overworked
muscles. Gradually, she healed. She was even able to wear
heavier blouses and shirts over her tenderized breasts.
She had been receiving a lot of cat-calls and wolf whistles
on her walks around the area. Some of the guys were gross,
but a couple of them were cute, too. Although she still
wasnít comfortable with all the attention blatant
sexuality, she was making tremendous strides in her level
of self-confidence. Besides, she kind of liked turning on
all those men.

She had discovered, drained, cleaned and filled the hot tub
on the terrace, and was pleasantly surprised when it ran
perfectly. It had been an exorbitant luxury when it was
installed 20-25 years ago and it had been built to last.
She enjoyed the hot soothing bubbling water often in the
evenings. It felt so decadent to be naked in the middle of
downtown and outside in the open air. She spent hours
soaking in the bubbling water, letting the soothing
currents soak away the last of her aches and pains. She
kind of zoned out in the hot tub. The cares of the day and
the fears of tomorrow faded away. But eventually she had
to get out of the water. To try to sleep. It seemed to
her that she would lay in bed all night long as her
thoughts raced forwards to her date. She wondered what the
man would be like. What would he ask her to do? Could she
do it? Could she not do it?

Then the itching would start. It was the kind of itch she
couldn't quite scratch. But she tried to and she would
almost succeed. She would then remember those intense
feelings she had felt in the basement at the hands of those
two sadistic brutes. Fresh tears of humiliation would fill
her eyes as she realized just how turned on she had been at
the rough treatment they had given her. Her cheeks would
flame red with her shame, but even embarrassment could not
diminish the rising urgency of her need.

Pushing her shame aside, she focused on trying to feel that
same sexual rush again. Her fingers blurred in between her
legs in frustrated persistence as the itch wouldn't go away
and she couldn't get off. After several frustrating
nights, she started doing things to try to get herself off.
Like pinching her nipples hard. Like Bill had done that
night that had felt soooo goood.

That stimulus worked for a while, but it wasn't enough.
Something was missing. She started to play with some old
cords from the drapes, first twisting them around her legs,
binding them tightly together. The heat she felt in her
sex told her she was on the right track. While her feet
and legs were tied, she fantasized about being totally
controlled, totally restrained. The idea made her hotter
and wetter between her legs.

She tried running the cords through her legs and pulling
the twisted strands up tight against her pussy. She
twisted the ends in her hands and sawed the braided coarse
rope back and forth across her clit. She managed to cum a
couple of times that way, too, but something was still

These limited excursions led to her attempting full self-
bondage. First she would tie her ankles together and
secure them to the foot of the bed with a short rope. She
tied her knees together next. She put another band of
cords across her calves and one around her mid-thighs.
Again, the tightly tied ropes cut into her skin, dividing
her shapely pins into segments.

She would then twist a rope belt around her waist and knot
it tight, squeezing in her waspish waist. She could then
run a rope through her tightly closed thighs. She tied one
end to the belt in the small of her back and pulled the
rope in front up tight between her cunt lips so that it
pressed against her clit and her asshole. She didn't tie
the front until later.

She had pondered what to do about her breasts, and had
tried many ways to stimulate them. She finally came up
with a way that satisfied her. A loop of thin cord was
placed around the base of each tit, hard against her chest.
She pulled each of the loops tight as if to try to separate
her tits from her chest. A second loop placed about midway
up around each ballooning boob was tied with a slipknot.
She held the ends of those in her mouth.

She then pulled the cunt cord firmly into her pussy and
tied it to the corded belt in front. A cord looped around
the post in the headboard ended in a slipknot to hold her
hands up over her head. By pulling the knot tight after
raising her arms over her head and slipping her hands
through the slip knot, she could close her eyes and pretend
she was tied tight, thrashing around on the over-sized
canopied bed.

She would spend hours in this position at night working out
her sexual frustrations, flexing her hips to rub the cord
against her magic button, stimulating herself to orgasm
after orgasm. But there was still something missing. It
just wasnít complete, somehow. She was frustrated that she
had to leave an escape route by tying a bowknot in the cord
that tied her arms to the headboard.

The only time she really got off and lost herself in the
feeling of helplessness was the time the cord holding her
arms over her head twisted and got a kink in it. The knot
stuck and there was a half-hour of panic-filled orgasmic
struggling. She so enjoyed that time, she seriously
contemplated not using an escape route and just
masturbating herself until she died of starvation.

But if she did that, she would miss her appointment with
the mysterious stranger. And that date and that unknown
man were becoming increasingly important to her. Call it
curiosity, call it duty. She didn't know. All she knew
was that he was important to Bill and that Bill owed him
something. She felt no loyalty to her faux husband
anymore, but she had said she would do this. Her word had
to mean something, right?

Added to all of the mysteriousness was one burning bit of
information. Probably the most important one to her. As
she had left the mansion for the last time, Bruce had
maliciously pulled her aside. With evil intent, he had
instructed her very specifically to ask the man she was
going out with to do something to her. Something kinky.
She was to ask him to tie her up and then to spank her.
While telling her to do this, Bruce had threatened her with
a very large knife that had frightened her terribly,
especially because Bruce was the one holding it and she
thought he was crazy.

Bruce had intended that this information about what she was
suppose to ask the man to do to her that night would
terrorize her, scare her out of her mind. It did just the
opposite. Those sinister instructions he had whispered to
her fed her nighttime fantasies. She was very much looking
forward to her 'date' with the mysterious man.


Karin shook her head to clear these thoughts. She still
stood in front of the full-length mirror on her closet
door. She had deliberated a long time about what she would
wear tonight. She had spent longer shopping at the
exclusive boutique. She didn't know her mystery manís
name, or anything about him. He was just a blind date she
was to ask to do kinky things to her.

The titillating thrill had a slight taste of fear mixed in
as it swept through her at the thought of the unknown
adventure on which she was embarking. Goose bumps rose on
her silky skin. She watched in the mirror as the tiny
bumps slowly faded away and she shivered again. Her
perfect, silky skin covering her breasts was clear once

The effects of the beating and rape by Bill and Bruce had
faded on her skin, if not in her memory. She examined her
youthful body closely. Other than the goose bumps that
were still visible on the rosy tips of her breasts, her
body was flawless. The bumps on her boobs made a miniature
circular mountain range with the semi-erect nipple in the
center. Her breasts rode firm and high on her chest, the
effects of age and gravity not yet evident. Small
triangular patches of creamy white skin surrounded by a
golden tan indicated the minuscule size of her bikini top.

A similar white triangle pointed like an arrow to the
secret place between her legs. The rest of her body was a
healthy golden tan, but not a deep one. She did not want
to have to deal with anymore wrinkles than she had to later
on in life. She pulled on a thin black thong panty that
just covered the white triangle. It would be her sole
undergarment tonight.

Her nylon stockings gripped the tops of her shapely thighs.
Her long legs were accented by the sheen of the fabric.
The distinctly feminine curves of her upper thighs held
them up with ease, with no need for garters or leg bands.

She had to honestly evaluate herself as beautiful and
desirable. This ability to appraise herself honestly was
new to her. Her shyness was rapidly slipping away as she
turned into a woman who would make her own decisions from
now on. Why a man had never fuck her was a mystery to her,
especially as she had been married for six months! Her
increased sexual tensions in the last two weeks heightened
her awareness of her sensuality and sex appeal. She was
going to go all out tonight. She wanted to be fucked, and

Picking up her dress, she slipped it over her head and let
it settle gracefully over her trim body. The dress was
ivory white on top with a jet-black micro skirt. The
fabric was translucent and filmy, like fine satin.
Reaching behind her waist, she zipped up the short zipper
and fastened the single hook closure at the top. This
pulled the close-fitting material in tight across her upper
thighs, hips, and lower abdomen. She looked closely and
could see the faint dark outline of the black panties over
her pubic patch, as well as every hair, dimple and ripple
as she moved. The stretchy fabric molded to her like a
second skin and it would be obvious to everyone who looked
exactly what she was wearing underneath her short skirt.

There was no back to the upper part of the dress starting
from the top of the skirt. The creamy white front panel
hung loosely around her body, dangling precariously from a
pair of fragile thin spaghetti straps that tied behind her
neck. Karin tied the straps a couple of times, adjusting
the scooped neck to hang at different levels, finally
deciding on a length that allowed the front of the dress to
readily fall away from her chest. When that happened, it
exposed her completely from her neck to her navel. When
she twirled around, the wind would catch the sides of the
dress, billowing them out to expose her magnificent breasts
from the sides.

"Well, that should give him an eye-full!" she said to no
one in particular. She experimented with the dress,
spinning around a couple of times. "I hope he likes it. I
know I do."

She selected a pair of high heels that accentuated her
height. The five-inch heels pushed her to almost six and a
half feet tall. She had no idea of the devastating impact
her height would have on a short man or one of average
stature. She only knew she looked very sexy in these
heels, and she wanted to look sexy for this mystery man.
How would he know she wanted him to fuck her senseless if
she didnít look sexy for him?

She had just thrown a sheer white shawl around her
shoulders when the limo arrived in the downstairs parking
garage. Just like his message had said. The note, with a
white wrist corsage, had been delivered to her apartment
this morning. There was no name, just that a driver would
show for her at 6:00 sharp, and to please be prompt.

The driver got out of the car and rang the bell. She
hurried to the elevator and went down to meet the waiting

The stoic chauffeur gave a visible start when he saw the
extraordinary beauty who stood in the open elevator. He
gave an embarrassed grin at his lapse, then bowed formally
and opened the rear door of the limo for her. She stepped
gracefully into the luxurious passenger area and settled
back into a decadently soft leather seat. The windows were
tinted so dark, Karin imagined she could be naked and no
one outside would know.

A glass of freshly poured champagne was waiting for her on
the small tray beside her seat. She picked it up and took
a sip. It was delicious and the bubbles tickled her nose.
She hardly noticed they had pulled away from the curb and
were on the way to meet her mysterious man.

Two glasses of bubbly later the car drove into the
underground garage of a large downtown corporate building.
The driver pulled up next to a brightly-lit elevator door.

"Top floor, Miss," said the driver, turning around. He
paused, stunned once more by her beauty.
Uncharacteristically he added, "Have a good time."

She flashed him a sincere 'Thank you' smile and stepped out
of the car.

Her 5-inch heels caught her by surprise when she took her
first steps. She stumbled slightly when one slipped off
her foot. She was not quite used to wearing them. The
alcohol made her kind of tipsy, as well. As she bent to
retrieve her errant shoe, she thought of the childhood
fairy tale and the glass slipper. An uncharacteristic
giggle took control of her and eased some of the building
tension in her. Finished putting her shoe on, she stood
and walked purposefully over to the open elevator. She
stepped in, surveyed her options, and giggled again. No
more champagne for her!

She paused and took a deep breath, clearing her head. This
was it, time to get serious. She pushed the top button,
waving goodbye to the driver as the door closed on her
past. She was on her way. She wondered if Cinderella had
been this scared on her way to the ball.


End of chapter

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