BDSM Sex Club Fantasy Part One: My Fate is Cast

The first thing that hit me was the warmth. I stripped off my coat and handed it to the cloakroom attendant with a smile and a thank you.

“Will you be entering the lottery?” he asked me.

I nodded and he gave me a consent form and a pen. I ticked various boxes, wrote out my safe word, then folded it up and kept it in my hand.

Beside the door to the dungeon, there was a sign and a bowl of necklaces. This was why I had come here in the first place.

The sign said:

Take a necklace, join the game,
Destiny waits, wild or tame.
A spin of the wheel, your role revealed,
Will you command or be forced to yield?

Positively thrilling, I took a necklace, and fastened it around my neck. The number pendent hanging down between my tits. And with a grin on my face, and my heart beating fast, I entered the dungeon.

The Dungeon

The walls were black, unseeable. There were various raised platforms with sleek looking bondage furniture on them, lit by sparkling purple lighting. Each platform held an X-cross and one other piece of furniture. Over there, something like a gynaecological chair with stirrups, there some suspension equipment with ropes, and oh that one a torturous looking wooden horse.

In accordance with the dress-code; black or white, I was wearing black, a light, skintight stretchy dress, very short with a plunging V-shaped neckline, stockings, a pair of fuck-me heels, no underwear.

I loved the black and white look. The clothes people were wearing drew my interest. Some very casual in jeans and T-shirts, others had really gone to town. A few wore masks, and a few wore only collars and shoes. I felt positively tame in my attire.

My Partner Finds Me

The dungeon masters were dressed all in black, but they were easily identifiable from their colourful armbands. I knew from the website that those of us who get drawn, who don’t have a partner with them, will be matched with one of the masked switches with a cobalt blue armband. Of course, I was checking those ones out.

Moving through the crowd, I went to the bar and got a drink, and someone approached me. She smiled at me; a masked DM with a blue armband.

Her trousers and t-shirt were skintight over her gorgeously plump body, her midriff, arms and neck heavily tattooed. How she looked me up and down, not in the slightest bit shy about it, and the confidence in her eyes, the smile she was giving me; uhh she attracted me in a very base manner, and I was thrilled by her attention.

We talked, and she was warm, she put me at my ease. She made eyes at my necklace, grinned at me, asked if I would partner her, if my number came up. Again, I thrilled, nodded to her and put my consent form in her open palm; she added her own series of crosses to the boxes next to mine. I was super excited; it would be my first time scening with a woman.

The Lottery

The music stopped and my heart hitched. I grinned back at her and we turned our attention to the stage.

Good evening all, the time has come,
To draw five numbers for t’night’s fun.
Hold your breath, the game begins,
Who’ll step forth when fortune spins?

The voice was male, deep with a synthetic, quality. A DM with a gold armband was standing on the stage, there was a glass bowl in front of him, with perhaps a dozen balls in it.

It was all so theatrical! But that so very suited the club vibe, and I have to admit, all this drama was having a pretty decent effect on my nerves. I swear, my body was thrumming, hands shaking. My excitement was in overdrive, attention scatty.

My number was the third called. I felt a telltale prickling all over my body, I was breaking out in a sweat and my heart rate doubled. The woman beside me squeezed my hand. She leaned close to my ear.

“Go, I’ll be with you.”

I realised then, that the ones who’d gone to the stage ahead of me had taken their partners with them. I led the way, and she followed, my hand clasped in hers. And I could feel her proximity, calming me.

Dom, or sub?

The last two were selected and we stood in a nervous line on stage. My jitters had me completely on edge.

The wheel now turns, your fate revealed,
Will you command, or will you yield?
Round it goes, the choice made clear,
Who will kneel, and who will steer.

The first couple stepped forward and spun the wheel. The alternating black and white pies became a single grey colour. It ticked as it spun, slowing all the time, and then it stopped. The pointer was in the black, and the necklace wearer was handed a black armband. Dominant. Slipping off his collar, he turned a gorgeous bright smile on his partner.

They had the first choice of which stage they would take; the sub of each couple got to make the decision. The newly created sub was fastening the collar around her neck. She chose the stage with the wooden horse and I was delighted for her.

The next couple were processed and then it was our turn. My heart beating hard, I stepped to the front of the stage, my partner beside me. Together we spun the wheel.

And that’s when it happened.

There was this enormous bellow, a disturbance at the back of the room. The lights were shining in my eyes, I couldn’t make out what was going on. There was a jostling, a man’s voice commanding people out of his way.

The ticks of the wheel slowing. My fate being decided, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the approaching form.

The Wild-Card

A huge man making his way through the crowd. He got closer and closer, I could make out a mask, that he was dressed all in black. A spotlight picked him out. The crowd became noisy, murmuring, excited. He was staring at me, his eyes glittering in the purple light. My partner grunted a disappointed sound. She squeezed my hand a last time, placed my consent form in it, then stepped away from me and off the stage.

His armband was checkered black and white; the legendary wildcard.

This threw me completely. There were stories about this guy, he lurks but very rarely takes part.

Rumour has it he’s a showman, always takes the centre stage. Though given the choice, he always claims the dominant role for himself, and he is adept at taking his subs to their limits, while driving them wild with their horniness. He supposedly chooses only the most promising, strongest subs for himself. And his shows are always exceptional.

So why the fuck had he chosen me?

My eyes were locked with his now and time seemed to slow down. Huge didn’t even begin to describe him, he was far bigger than I’d have imagined, had I taken the time to. Where before I’d felt delicious anticipation, I now felt a sort of confused helplessness, disbelief and unworthiness. But at the same time, maybe because of how he was just staring at me as he closed the distance, I was ignited, on fire.

He stepped up onto the stage in front of me, and I realised I was involuntarily backing away from him. I forced myself to stop moving, staring up at him and I swear, the parts of his face I could see past his mask looked menacing, angry even. Fear was crawling up my spine.

He stepped into my personal space, and it took all my willpower to keep my eyes on his, to stop myself taking another step backwards. Everyone in the room knew how it was going to go down, though our roles had not yet been cast. At this point I was still his equal.

But I felt thoroughly inferior.

He Chooses my Fate

The gold DM offered him a black and a white armband to select from, thus casting my fate. The room became completely silent when he didn’t immediately choose the white one.

He took both, and with the room erupting in excitement, he got down on his knees in front of me and offered me the black armband, his eyes cast at my feet.

Standing there, looking at his bowed head, I saw my hand reaching out, taking the armband, sliding it onto my arm. He just knelt there, at my feet and I realised he was waiting for me to give him an order.

Feeling giddy, I let him wait until the processing was done and the other couples had taken their stages. They had all left the central stage clear in deference to the wild card. And though some had already begun, the eyes of the crowd were fixed on us.

“Stand up, lead me to your scene,” I said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

He rose and his movements were effortless, for such a huge person. He gave me one short look, his eyes narrow, his expression dark, in no way was it submissive and oh, how it thrilled me. I followed him, the crowd parting, making way for us. We crossed the room, toward centre stage, but he just walked straight past it. Instead, he led me up a metal framed staircase, toward the private rooms.

He stopped by a black door, opened it for me and I slipped inside. The crowd voicing its disappointment did not faze him, at all. All too aware of being alone with him, I moved to the middle of the room, turned to watch him.

He closed the door quietly, shutting out the noise of the club completely. His eyes and expression, as much as I could see of it, still looked angry, furious in fact. And he rounded on me, came to me, stood over me, seeming to quiver with his emotion. But then he let out an angry grunt, and knelt at my feet, the white armband still clutched in his hand.

A Shock of Recognition

Those hands.

“Get up,” I said, and he stood, towering over me.

I took his right hand into mine, and he spread it out, palm up. His fingers were taut, his hand enormous. I turned it over in mine, looked at the hairiness of his knuckles, traced a finger over the back of it, feeling the ridges of his veins under his skin. I traced one up, over his forearm to his elbow, and looking into his eyes, I spread out my hand and stroked it over the muscles of his upper arm. His eyes were glinting at me, his body got even tighter and the muscles under my hand flexed to hardness, his biceps impossibly big. I took a step back, looking up at him, certain now.

Reaching up, he did the unspeakable and pulled off his mask. And it was him. Mr Muscles. And he was clearly irate. We stared at each other; his anger took my breath from me. His arms were taut, hands colossal fists at his sides, those telltale grooves in the side of his face betraying his clenched jaw.

I can’t explain it, but I felt stupidly angry with him. Suddenly I was fuming, and we were like animals, staring each other down, both too damned furious to move or break our tableau. The air between us got hot and thin. My breathing got faster, and my heart was beating too hard. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, I was that angry. My vision became blurry.

Still looking at me, he let out this sound, loud, frustrated and his breath blew over my face with it. He broke eye contact with me, went down to his knees and held out his hands, wrists upward in an act of submission that went against everything we knew of each other.

Looking at him my anger left me as fast as it had come. I offered him the sheet so he could let me know what his limits were, but he refused it, though he told me his safe word.

He still held the white band in his hand. It was so tempting to switch the band on my arm and give him control. Revert to what I knew, submission. To let him direct me and do what he wished with me.

“Look at me,” I said.

He looked up. On the wall behind him were a collection of tools.

“Choose, and arrange yourself,” I told him.

He rose again, turned and without hesitating, he picked a pair of floggers and handed them to me, handle first.

And then, he got naked.