Invitation to The Platinum Society: The Billionaire's Secret BDSM Club (3 page)

I groaned again – a strange sound of desire, exhaustion and humiliation. I felt strange sensations begin to take over my body, and then finally I shuddered and screamed out loud. The climax flooded over me in waves, making me jerk my hips and scream wordlessly, desperate and happy and bright, until everything flowed out of my body and I was left, tired and limp.

Chapter Three

I felt Nate pull his hand away, and he pulled my skirt down and lifted me up so that I was sitting properly
. I slumped against him, and he stroked my hair for a minute or two, fixing it and putting it in place.

I heard him rummaging in his briefcase, and after a while I felt something cold and hard against my left nipple, and then against my right nipple. I looked down and there were two metal rings, hanging loosely against my nipples.

“Nipple clamps,” Nate explained, “They look beautiful on you.”

They were joined by a thin metal chain, and as I watched, Nate tightened the screw around one ring until it grew tighter and tighter, and I moaned
softly in pain. He gave it a few more twists, increasing my pain, and then tightened the screw on the other ring, until it was just as tight. I leaned back, feeling the sharp stabs of pain that travelled from my nipples down my body, making my knees feel weak. As I sat quietly, Nate gave a quick pull on the chain, making me squeal and turn to him in surprise.

A thin smile played on his lips and his eyes were dark and hungry.

“That hurts,” I said, pouting a little and feeling slightly weak.

“They look gorgeous on you. You have lovely breasts, and I need to give your nipples more attention, but we don’t have time right now for everything I’d love to do to you.”

As he spoke, the realization dawned on me that the car wasn’t moving.

How much time had passed? I had no
idea, it felt like I’d been in a daze for all this time.

The clamps squeezed at my nipples, making them hurt with a sharp painfulness. Nate yanked the thin chain one more time, making me let out a low, surprised scream again.

He began buttoning up my shirt efficiently, pulling it closed over the nipple clamps.

“You’ve got a vibrator at home, right?”

I looked at him in surprise, the ripples of pain still travelling from my nipples down my spine, and nodded silently.

“Ok. You saw how I tightened the screws. I want you to go home, find your vibrator and then undo the clamps.”

“Why would I do that?”

He smiled slightly, his eyes twinkling dark.
“Because you’re a good pet.”

By now my shirt was buttoned up, and other than my nipples poking through the thin fabric, I looked reasonably normal. Nate leaned forward and kissed me very lightly on the lips.

“This is for you,” he said, handing me a large brown envelope and then opening the limo door and stepping out.

He held out one hand for me, and I slid out, looking around in surprise. We were in front of my apartment and I wondered when we’d arrived there and how long we’d been parked. By the time I turned to face Nate, he had stepped back into the limo again.

“Do what I told you,” he said, smiling at me. “And I hope I’ll see you soon.”

He pulled the door closed after himself and I turned and hurried up the steps of my apartment. The only thing on my mind was
to get home asap, close the door behind me and take off those damn clamps.

I hurried into my room, locking my bedroom door behind me, and pulled out my vibrator from its usual bedside-table hiding-place. I just about ripped off my shirt, and slowly unscrewed the clamps, turning the screw gently and trying my best not to pull in any direction.

Finally the first clamp was off, and I breathed in relief. Almost immediately, all the blood seemed to come rushing into my nipple, hardening it and making me gasp at the sudden desire that pooled in my stomach.

I hurried with the other nipple, quicker this time and not caring if I accidentally pulled or pinched. This one was off too, and then I felt that same rush of blood, that same sudden punch of arousal.

I knew now why I’d been instructed to have my vibrator nearby. I pulled down my skirt, and switched on my toy, teasing my clit with the throbbing item, sighing with relief as my nerves tingled and I fell into a state of relaxed excitement. What seemed like a few seconds of teasing my clit was all it took for the climax to build up, and then rush out of my body.

When it was over, I lay in bed, exhausted.

Now that I had time to think, I felt the regret and shame start to come over me. What had I been thinking? I don’t do one-night stands, so why had I done all that in the limo with a virtual stranger? Images flashed before my eyes – I had acted so wanton, like a desperate slut. What had gotten into me?

I managed to drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

As I stood under the shower, letting the warm water wash over me, some of my regret disappeared. I had emerged from the experience happy, and I’d had fun. Wasn’t that what counted? I would certainly never do such a thing ever again, but it had been a magnificent experience.

After I toweled off, I stood in front of my full-length mirror and twisted around to look at my ass. It was still slightly red, and looking at that last sign of my encounter, I felt a strange mixture of pride, embarrassment and joy.

And then I remembered the envelope that Nate had handed me – dear God, had he thought I was a prostitute and paid me money? The thought was mortifying, but after it had passed, I chuckled. It would be funny indeed if he’d paid me money. I wasn’t a prostitute, and I’d had fun, but any money would come in useful for me now!

Or maybe it was a gift, or maybe his contact details…

I opened up the envelope, and went through its contents.

Chapter Four

Two weeks had passed since my encounter with Nate, and I hadn’t seen him during this time. I knew I wouldn’t see him again, not unless I took a decision about the contents of the envelope.

When I’d opened the envelope, the first thing that fell out was a handwritten note:

Dear Vicki,

Thanks for a very enjoyable time together. I would love to see you again, but that might not be possible.

I’m a scout for a very exclusive, private club for billionaires, called the Platinum Society. It’s a BDSM club.

Occasionally we have Submissives’ Auctions. We’ll auction off a submissive and he/she gets 90% of the bid price. The submissive spends five nights in the club, doing his/her master’s bidding.

I know you could use the money – the auction should raise at least $500,000 for you and that would cover all the costs of your tuition and some more.

I think you’d also enjoy the experience.

You see, members of the club wear a special cologne (a mix of pheromones and other chemicals that non-members don’t get access to) and some girls react very well to it – they get extremely aroused. In addition, these girls are usually natural submissives. I think both are true of you.

I encourage you to accept this invitation enclosed, to become a slave for our club. You’ll enjoy it and earn a lot of money – what more could you ask for?
Please release any negative connotations you might have about becoming a sex slave, or earning money from such things – the same way you released the negative idea you had about getting a spanking. That turned out to be something you enjoyed, and I can guarantee you’ll enjoy becoming property of the club.

If you do accept the invite, here’s a quick hint: make sure you enjoy the auction process. Th
e auction will show off your skills, and the more you enjoy the process, the higher members will bid for you, and the more money you’ll earn.

I really hope I’ll see you again.

-
       
“Nate”

I read the letter three times, before it
truly sunk in.

I had worried that Nate might’ve thought I was a prostitute, the envelope might contain money. But this was so much worse. Or was it?

He wanted me to auction off my body in a room full of billionaires, and then let one of them use me as he wished. The phrase “property of the club” worried me – but it also got me hot and bothered as I imagined belonging to multiple men.

Of course, I would have rejected the idea off-hand, had it not been for the amount of money mentioned. For half a million dollars, I could pay off my law school tuition, and invest the rest for a decent income from dividend payouts.

It was an ethical dilemma, and no matter how Nate couched it, the fact was that I was being asked to sell me body.

On the other hand, I really had enjoyed my time with Nate, and I was pretty sure I’d enjoy my time at the Platinum Club. And of course, the amount of money really threw everything out of whack.

I spent two days feeling conflicted, and then I finally decided to look at the rest of the materials.

There was a brochure for potential submissives. It was quite ridiculous – made with glossy paper, and speaking of the club like
it was a fancy holiday retreat. There were photos of the place, and it
did
look like an upscale resort, with luxurious rooms, spa, pool and gym. The brochure also boasted of a Michelen-starred private chef, and “tasteful punishment room”. There were photos of the punishment room, and I had to admit that it
did
look pretty tasteful – despite, or maybe because of, all the whips and implements arranged around the room.

There was a section bragging about their clients – how these men were among the
most wealthy, charismatic and powerful men, from all across the world. This section mentioned that the clients wore a special pheromone-perfume that made the submissives incredibly aroused and attracted to the men, to the extent that many submissives claimed that they had “the best sex of their lives” at this club. The brochure also claimed that the club had often acted like a specialist dating service, matching up dominants and submissives for long-term relationships. 

And then there was a bit about requirements of the submissives – mentioning that submissives should be intelligent, attractive and enjoy being dominated.

I rolled my eyes when I finished reading the whole thing. It reminded me so much of a college brochure! It was quite over-the-top, but it left me in no doubt that this was indeed a very exclusive and expensive club. I wondered how many of these brochures were ever printed, and how many girls had ever seen one. Did they give these brochures to movie stars and models? The idea shocked me – these men obviously had a lot of money to spend and could get almost any girl they were interested in. And they seemed to be interested in me.

Curiosity got the better of me and I picked up the next brochure, called “For Submissive Slaves.”

It listed a number of qualities that girls who were invited to be submissives had, like intelligence, good looks, a “healthy appetite for sex” and a good fitness level. It went on to list the “duties” of a submissive slave, things like maintaining confidentiality of the club and its members, obeying the Dom and taking punishment, and being polite and friendly to all members. In return, submissives were promised they would be treated with respect and adoration, and that all “group sex scenes would be for the benefit of the submissive”.

There were a few testimonials from former submissives. One girl said she’d “had the sexual experience of a lifetime,” another said she’d “met her soul mate and was now happily married to him.” That last one made me roll my eyes in disbelief, but for some reason I believed the club wouldn’t have to lie to get submissives to sign up – the money alone would be enough.

Finally, I had a look at the “Application Form” and once again I was reminded of a college application. There were a number of questions about my background and education, as well as questions about my age, height and preferences in a sexual partner. I was asked to write an essay on a profound life experience that I’d had. Finally, there was a series of questions about sexual activities I liked or wanted to avoid. There was a list of activities like “spanking”, “whipping”, “intimate piercing”, “anal intercourse” and “group intercourse”. I was to rate each sexual activity, selecting from five options - “Enjoy Greatly”, “Never Tried But Curious”, “Don’t Mind”, “Tried and Didn’t Like” and “Never Tried And Never Want To”.

There was one final piece of paper. It had only two lines on it, an Application Deadline Date followed by a date three weeks from when I’d met Nate, and a Contact Number, followed only by a cell phone number.

The materials made my head spin, and I put them away. I’d spent the last two weeks thinking about them – first deciding to apply, and then deciding to throw away all the forms.

Making a decision was hard, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the money for my tuition wasn’t about to magically
appear out of thin air – I really needed that money.

Finally, I decided to do a Google search for “Platinum Society,” but nothing came up, except for an article in
Forbes
magazine, which listed the name under its list of Most Exclusive Clubs. There was a one line description of the club – “So exclusive, few have ever heard of it, let alone been inside.”