Collette the Virgin is brought to a BDSM club.

“I go to parties, and I get paid. Wanna come?" Mia Hernandez, my friend from church asked. She was a curvaceous Latina with a body for sin and a smirk that let you know she enjoyed it.

I wondered, "Why would anyone pay you to go to a party?"

"My boss wants the party to look really packed, for some out-of-town guests. They like to have pretty girls around to dance and chat them up, make them feel like big shots. They hired me because I know how to have a good time," she grinned, "Do you?"

Did I? I was a 19-year-old virgin raised in a tiny town with nothing to do. I shrugged, "Uh, sure?"

She laughed, "I'll show you, don't worry. Come over Saturday at 7, we'll pregame."
The next Saturday night rolled around, and I met Mia at her apartment. Hardwood floors, crown molding, Ethan Allen furniture, copper pots hung on a rack over the sink. It was closer to a model home than the apartment of a 23-year-old. I glanced around, "Wow, club promotions pay well."

"What is it that you've been doing?" she looked me over.

"Bussing tables at the country club, why are you looking at me like that?"

She hesitated, "There's was no way you're going to the party dressed like a little girl. It'll send the wrong message." Evidently, my Hello Kitty tee, jeans, and black sandals were not going to cut it with her bosses. We went through her closet and eventually settled on a stretchy purple dress I initially mistook for a t-shirt. The material made panty lines look weird, so I took them off.

She curled my hair into loose copper waves that framed my face. Then, she did my make-up; red lips and black eyeliner around my olive eyes. I saw myself in the mirror, but it wasn’t me. The red lipstick made my paleness so much whiter. I was a fancy impersonation of myself. Mia said I looked fuckable and that was the goal. She poured me a margarita and said I should pick a name for the night. I licked the salt on the rim, took a gulp, and brilliantly responded, “Huh?”

“Pick a name for the night. It’s fun, and that way no one knows who you are. You’ll be the fuckable mystery woman. And don’t gulp your drink; it’s not ladylike. You want them to think you have some class, right?” She daintily sipped her drink to illustrate.

I giggled at the thought of doing anything ladylike. “Ok, sure, a name...” I thought of the most ridiculous girly names I could imagine. “How about Ginger or Kitty or Bambi?”

“Yes! Bambi, it is a pleasure to meet you!” she laughed, too. I stood and did my best imitation of a curtsy, and Mia cackled so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“It wasn’t that bad,” I objected in mock offense.

“Oh my God, YES it was!” For the next hour or so, I got lessons on sitting without flashing my goodies, how to daintily laugh in public, and how to pose in a room. The last one was the trickiest; you had to make sure your back wasn’t to any available person you wanted unless you were bent over to let them check out your ass.

At 11, we pulled up to a mansion on the outskirts of town. Mia slid her black Audi TT past the driveway fountain and into a spot behind a blue Porsche 911 in the valet line. I’d never been to a party with valet parking. (Hell, I’d never been to a restaurant with valet parking.) The outside of the mansion was lit up with floodlights strategically placed around trimmed trees. The place reminded me of a Tuscan villa: off-white with vines up the sides, a Spanish tile roof, and lots of tropical flowers everywhere. I imagined it’d be so much prettier in the daylight.

A well-built man got out of the Porsche. He looked back at her Audi and smiled, as he handed his keys to the valet. He walked like a jungle cat to the mansion's entry. There was something unnerving about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I was pretty sure I wanted him to put his finger on it.

As we walked in and the music became louder, Mia leaned over and told me to stand up straight, keep my borrowed black clutch in my hand not under my arm, and if anything went sideways, there was a fixit kit in the clutch, so never lose track of it. I must have given her quite a look, because then she said, “And whatever you do, do NOT make that face for the rest of the night.”

“Mia, hello! Who is your friend?” A stunningly beautiful woman greeted us. She had chocolate brown waves hair pinned up like a Botticelli painting and wore a long ivory beaded gown. It was somehow both ornate and understated, like the mansion.

“This is Bambi. Bambi, this is Dalia Grimaldi. She is our gracious hostess for tonight’s festivities.”

“Thank you for having me, Ms. Grimaldi.”

“Dalia, please. And it's my pleasure, make yourselves comfortable. We will be getting started shortly.” She gestured for us to move into the rest of the house. As I tried to manage all the lady goals Mia had laid out for me, I took a glass of champagne from a server and attempted to look sophisticated. But, then, how does one look sophisticated? I pondered this as the champagne tickled my throat.

“Stop thinking so much, you’re making that face again.” Mia quietly corrected me.
“I was trying to-

“Stop trying. Just be here, in the moment. Take it all in.”

“Okay.” So, I took it all in. I was in a ballroom of a mansion. Me. Resplendent, with marble floors and gold-trimmed everything. And me. There were 3 giant chandeliers and servers in tails. It was like I was watching a movie, but I was in it. The guests were beautiful men and women, dressed to the nines, and I had never felt more out of place in my life. “What am I doing here, Mia? I work for these people; I don’t mingle with them.”
“You’re fine, you look amazing, and if they know you, they will have no idea it’s you. Just act like you belong and you’ll be great.”

“Mia, hello!” It was the Porsche guy. He had a deep tan and dark hair with a hint of purple to it. His suit had to have been tailored because it was amazing on him. He had something of a swimmer’s build. But the best part of hi m was that smile; it cut right through me and made my breath catch in my stomach.

“I thought that was you outside. It’s so good to see you,” Mia did the society-cheek-kiss.
“Who is this?” He turned his dark-eyed gaze to me and shot me that smile. I emptied my glass much faster than I intended and caught a quick glance of disapproval from Mia.
“This is Bambi, we go way back. Bambi, this is Simon.”

“Hi,” I managed to mumble.

His smile grew. “Any friend of Mia’s is a friend of mine.” I tried to let the intent of his words comfort me, but I was too intimidated. Kindness invaded his tone, “Don’t worry, I know these parties can be something to get used to. It’s a part of the business.”
“Club promoting?” I asked.

His brow furrowed for a moment, and he tilted his head Mia’s way. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he smiled again. Their invisible conversation worried me.

“Yes, club promoting. Excuse me.” Simon wandered away.

“What the hell was that, Mia?”

She huffed, “Ok, it’s not just club promoting. I needed to get you here to show you-
“Tonight’s festivity will be held on the terrace. Let’s move outside,” Dalia held her arms out to gently corral everyone through the French doors out the back.

As I stepped through the doors and the crowd parted, I was pretty sure I wasn’t seeing what I saw. Nope, couldn’t be. My breath stopped in my chest, and my head was spinning. Suddenly, I felt small hands on my shoulders. “This,” Mia whispered in my ear.

The dangling girl, wearing nothing but ropes, was not the strangest part of the tableau. The strangest part would have had to have been the two girls who wore some sort of horse get up: shiny black hoof boots, matching booty shorts with long horsetails, and a glitter-covered face mask/shoulder harness thing which attached them to a small buggy. Their hands were encased in shiny black gloves which also looked like hooves. Their last human quality was their naked breasts, which made them so vulnerable and exposed. They slowly trotted around the Olympic swimming pool in the middle of the terrace.

Rope Girl was bound in such a way that she reminded me of a braided human piñata. She dangled from a tree in red silky rope, with her knees tied to her chest somehow, and her arms tied in front of her knees, almost like she was sitting. Her pussy and her ass were displayed, and she didn’t seem the least bit unhappy about this. In fact, she glistened with delight. Her painted eyes were relaxed and half-closed, and she had a permanent smirk on her lovely face. The black pixie haircut kept her expression in full view. Chairs encircled Rope Girl’s display at the near end of the terrace. Beyond her area were a few acres of open grass, which ended in an orange grove.

Shrubs lined the walls and glowed with precision lighting. They decorated the walls on three sides of the pool, and I realized the mansion was even bigger than I had originally thought. The building was U-shaped, with the outdoor terrace in the middle. Great for privacy, I mused.

Movements in the shrubs shook me from my disoriented amusement. It was only then, that I realized some of the shrubs were people. Naked people, painted like shrubs, posed in between small actual shrubs, slowly took different positions while the music played.

Another champagne server wandered past, and I snatched my second flute. I was not about to keep my composure with sobriety. I decided to follow the rest of the crowd, slightly directed by Mia’s hands. We all moved to the grassy area near the Rope Girl.
Dalia stood in front of the crowd. “Good evening. Tonight, in honor of our guest, we have prepared for your entertainment a gift of innocence.”

She gestured behind herself, and the Horse Girls trotted up, this time with a woman in the buggy. The new woman had her wrists bound behind her back in a leather glove apparatus and a gag in her mouth. A collar lined her throat and had a leash attached to it, but she was otherwise nude. Dalia took the handle of the leash and led the bound woman from the buggy. She kept her gaze on the ground, but I saw her face. She had the same look on her face as Rope Girl. Blissed out.

“Twenty-one years old, and never penetrated by a man. She has been trained in the ways of pleasure. Her name is yours to choose, as are her holes,” Dalia said, while she passed the leash handle to a man I hadn’t noticed before.

I guessed he was 40, white, handsome, in a classic sort of way. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit and light blue button-down. He looked like Daniel Craig. He took the handle and shortened the leash, so she had to stand close to him. He touched her gag with his forefinger to ensure he had her full attention. She slowly raised her eyes to his. Only then did he glide his finger down her midline, between her breasts, to her navel, and finally to her pussy. Her legs flexed briefly, but her gaze never left his as he fingered her.

Murmurs from the crowd became shouts of, “Fuck her!” and the rest of us giggled or stared in fascination. Personally, I was somewhere between nervous laughter and open gawking. A paisley fainting couch was brought by the servers to the Handsome Man and the Virgin. He arranged the pillows on the fainting couch into a hill in the middle of it. He bent her over the pillow mound, with her face exposed to the crowd. He fingered her in that position next, slowly and methodically. Rope Girl tried to get a better view, but the movement spun her in the ropes. The shrubs leaned toward the Virgin like she was the sun.

Handsome Man invited a woman around his age to join him. She was amused by the offer. Elegant and cocktail-dressed, she seemed uncertain. But she walked over to them, took a look at the girl’s bits, and fingered her with an opera-gloved finger. She joked he would have to buy her new gloves. He smiled and kissed the Elegant Lady, deep and open. Virgin moaned as they kissed, and my attention was back on her. Her face reddened, and she clearly enjoyed the show. The Elegant Lady smiled, “Edwin, I think you owe her a fine fucking.”

“Of course, my Love.” He unzipped his trousers, stuck his finger in the Elegant Lady’s mouth, and gradually worked that finger into the Unknown Virgin’s ass. She began to squirm and work herself against the finger. In and out, in and out. By the time it was all the way in her ass, her lovely face shimmered with sweat. “My Love, kiss her while I fuck her.” The Elegant Lady’s response was only to smile and follow his order. She kissed and stroked the girl’s body. Finally, the head of his cock started to make its way into her hole. A moan escaped the side of her gag, and a cheer went up in the crowd.

With that, the festivities moved on to individual interests. The 10 chairs around Rope Girl filled with spectators, some of whom had fun with her vulnerable places. Between their chairs and around other areas, I noticed tables topped with bowls, filled with toys. A string of anal beads soon protruded from Rope Girl.

Edwin and the Elegant Lady banged away at the now-former Virgin. The Shrub People were both women and men, and they pleasured each other, as well as the occasional guest. One of the Shrub men got a blow job from a man in a gorgeous brown suit, and from behind, they looked like a happy tree Bob Ross might have drawn. The Horse Girls were whipped by giggling buggy riders because the poor things couldn’t tow more than one person, and evidently, that transgression earned a whipping. And I stood in the middle of all of this, without a clue about what to do. A hand waved in front of my face and shook me from my stupor. It was Simon.

“Some party, huh?” He grinned that damn smile from before.

“I, uh, yeah.” I tried to look away, but then all I was seeing was varieties of fucking, so my eyes were not entirely under my control.

“Would you like to come inside?”

“I …well, um…I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“It’ll be fine. Come with me.” He took my hand, and a great deal of wetness began to trickle between my thighs. Walking became more interesting. Once we were inside the ballroom, and the music overcame the sound of moans, and my head cleared. He handed me another flute of champagne, “I know this can be a lot to take in. Here."

I downed it much faster than Mia wanted me to. “I have no idea what just happened. What the hell was that?”

“The easiest way to explain it is that we do business differently than most people, which is why we are so successful.”

I squinted up at him, “And what business is that actually?”

“Club promotions.”

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled, “No, that part’s true. Our clubs are BDSM clubs. We give adults the fantasies they’ve always had, but never had the ability to express. And we are doing it in an always consensual, mostly legal way.”

“Huh.”

“That’s why Mia wanted you to join us tonight. This is one of our tamer nights, and she didn’t want to put you off, Collette.”

That brought me out of my stupor entirely. “How do you know my real name?”

He rolled his dark eyes, “We know all about you. We can’t have strangers walk in on this sort of scene; can you imagine?”

“Oh,” I thought about that for a moment. That would not go well. "Huh."

“Are you okay?”

“Well, I was betrayed by someone I’ve known most of my life. I have no idea how to process what I saw out there. And I’m so horny I could hump a tree. And I don’t mean that literally, the shrub people on the terrace can stay put.”

He shot me that damn smile again, "So, what would you like to do about that?”
My brain was still foggy, "I don’t imagine those are the only toys in this house.” I gestured toward Rope Girl through the glass in the French doors.

He smiled, “This house is full of entertainment possibilities.”

“Lead the way.”

-

Simon took me upstairs to his room. It was more of an open loft apartment than a bedroom. He clicked the lights on, but they weren’t much help. Mahogany wood surfaces and coffee leather sucked in all the available light. Bookshelves lined the open living room. I was pretty sure there was a huge bed, a fireplace, and a kitchenette, but I could only focus on the couches. I plopped myself there to think. What the hell was I doing in there?

He said, “Fire,” and the enormous fireplace whooshed to life opposite the bed. Simon slid his jacket off, hung it up, and sat in one of the chairs across from me. “You asked for toys, but you didn’t specify.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was in a strange man’s room, in a strange place, and my buzz faded, because of the warning alarm in my head. "I’m having second thoughts about this.”

“I preferred your first thoughts,” he smiled and peered into me.

“Well, how do I know you wouldn’t take advantage of me?”

His smile faded, and I hated myself for asking that. He rolled up his sleeves, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and put his hands together. “You’re using my toys, so I do get to watch, but I will never take advantage of you. I do not get my rocks off by abusing women. If I were ever to touch you in any way at all, it would be your choice.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense taken. You don’t know me, and you’re investing a lot of trust in me, if you choose to stay. But, I want to be crystal clear: if you ever want me to touch you, you will not only ask for it. You will beg for it.”

“I don’t know what to do with that. Let’s see your toys.”

His smile returned and I felt better. He delivered a chest filled with every sort of adult toy I’d seen downstairs, and many I weren't sure were toys. Some looked like weapons. I must have looked perplexed because he started naming them: double-ended dildos, butt plugs, vibrators, and eggs. There were harnesses with dildos, and in the middle of it all, he stopped himself, “You’re a virgin, right?”

“Well, yes, but-

“It’s fine, no judgment. I don’t want to start you off with anything you’re not comfortable with. Does anything look like it’s up your alley?”

“Not yet.” I made a face to let him know I was joking.

He kindly chuckled. “Maybe an egg. It can go inside of you or not, whatever you want.”

“Um, maybe something we can put a condom on.”

“Sure, but so you know, none of these have been used. But whatever you want is good by me.”

“Oh, okay. What do you suggest, I’ve only ever used my fingers and my showerhead.”

“Huh. Well, do you want something inserted or not?”

“Would that mean that I’m not a virgin anymore?”

“Virginity is more of a state of mind than a state of body, so it’s up to you. That’s how we were able to train tonight’s offering, without prematurely ending her virginity.”

A weird sense of relief hit me. “Oh. Well, that sounds like what I want.”

He studied my mouth for a moment, then regained his focus, “You should probably start small. Try this one. It’s a G-spot vibrator, do you know what the G-spot is?”

“Of course I do.”

He smirked, “Then you know how to use this?”

“Of course, I don’t.”

He tipped his head down without looking at me and quietly said, “Would you like me to help you?”

I was suddenly so thirsty. “I…I would like you to get me more champagne.”

When he stepped away, I darted to the bed with my new toy. It was slim and pink, as though the boys get blue G-spot vibrators. I tried so hard to relax and not think about what I wanted to do. He headed toward me, and I stashed the toy by my thigh. Stupidly, I had the odd urge to hide it from him. Simon joined me on the bed, 2 flutes in hand. We began to quietly sip in unison.

Simon looked me over and said, “I know it’s impossible for me to help you relax, after all, you’ll be on display," he sighed before he continued, "naked and writhing and happy. All I can say is I am excited to see that, so get to work.” He grinned because he knew he was being obnoxious.

It made me giggle. Or maybe that was the champagne. I took a deep breath, and admitted, “It might be easier to relax if you kiss me.”

He put his flute down and set mine next to his. In one swift movement, he took my head in his hands and thrust himself on top of me. It took my breath away, and then he kissed me, long and slow. He tasted sweet. I was drunk on the pleasure of his lips on mine. I was so wet, and my pelvis instinctively grinded up against him. He propped up over me in a plank position and said, “No.”

Then, he kissed me again; he stole my breath and my will at the same time. I put my arms around him and tried to grind my hips into his. He stopped kissing me long enough to say, “No,” and went back to it.

I realized he wasn’t doing what every other boy has ever done: He wasn’t groping at me, not trying to pull my clothes off, he wasn’t trying to mount me. Simon firmly wanted me; I felt the hard evidence pressed against my thigh. But he didn’t try to fuck me. I was extremely confused and mildly intoxicated, so I decided to simply enjoy the kissing. Finally, he came up for air and another swig of champagne. “Collette, you came up here for an orgasm, not to get fucked. Do you want my help?"
My voice trembled when I admitted, "Yes."

"Where’s that vibrator?” He put his drink down again and took the vibrator. Then, Simon sat on the floor between my legs. “Pull your dress up a little more. Let me see you.”

I tugged on the hem of my dress and shimmied the stretchy fabric up my thighs. At least the lighting from the fireplace was flattering.

“I’m going to slide this inside you. Lift your knees up and hold still, or I might miss.”

I complied, but my legs shook. “What do you mean, you might miss?”

“Don’t worry about it. Ready?”

“Ye-…uh, oh, god," I whispered when it slipped into my pussy. He was backlit by the fire, like my own personal demon. The toy was inside me, and at first, all I could think was that I could probably handle something bigger. But then, he turned it on. A flutter hit someplace pleasant. After a few seconds, I said, “Harder.”

He turned the speed up and pressed it harder into me. Once I adjusted to the new sensations, it felt good, but I didn’t think I’d come. My hand drifted toward my slit, and soon he rhythmically pumped the vibrator inside me, while I played outside. It was amazing. My breath caught in the middle of me. I was in my own little world. The only thought I had left was, “How would this feel if it was him, instead of a toy?” It took me a minute to recall his name, “Simon?”

He was breathy, too, “Yes?”

“Could you use your finger instead of the toy?”

“What if I use them together?”

“Okay.” Soon, I felt the toy inside the top of my pussy, and his thick finger at the base of it. I thought I might burst. I felt the rest of his knuckles outside my ass, and then he finger-banged me hard. It was just enough. I screamed and felt every sensation wash over me again and again, while my body contorted with every wave. He kept his fingers right where they’d been, but the vibrator shot out of me and hit him in the chest. I hysterically giggled, “Stop, stop, stop!"

He gently pulled his finger out and licked it and smiled. I was a big sweaty, nearly-paralyzed mess. He curled his body around mine and held me. It was nice, but weird; like even though I came super hard, I wanted him more. It didn't satisfy me. I craved something deeper. He buried his face my hair and sighed, while he held me. His hardness pressed against my ass. I had no idea what to say, but I tried, “Simon?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He groaned, “Oh god yes.”

I waited briefly, but it was the longest breath of my life. “Now?”

“Collette, you taste like honey, and I’ve never seen a woman come like that in my life. I want to fuck you now, tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. But, I’m not going to. You're buzzed, you're horny, and you're a virgin. I know that might sound condescending, but I will not take advantage of you.”

“Is it 'taking advantage' if I give you the advantage?”

“Do not attempt to seduce me with semantics.”

“Fuck me," I tried to demand.

“No.”

“Fine.”

He swallowed and said, “I’m going to need you to let go of my dick.”

“Fine.”


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