Golden Purgatory – Member’s Only

Amateur

Anna sat in the back of the Uber, bumper-to-bumper with every other human person in the goddamn city. She hated being late. HATED! But she hadn’t even received the card with her husband’s instruction until she got home from the office, and there was no time to shower, hardly time to touch up her makeup. He had already left. LEFT HER! He wouldn’t answer her phone. Only exchange cryptic texts. Just because the kids were with their grandparents didn’t give him the right to break all of their well-established, highly efficient patterns, and replace them with drama. And then the car took forever getting to the house… By the time she reached the address in uptown, it was five ’til.

Some birthday surprise. He knew better. It’s like he was sabotaging her on purpose. Seemed about right. Christmas slippers, wrong size. Mother’s Day perfume, wrong scent. Anna’s husband was so bad at details that she sometimes wondered how he functioned as an adult.

Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair. He was good at some details, when he wasn’t distracted or late. And his heart was in the right place. Every now and then, he’d do something that proved he was really listening. A pair of earrings snuck from a shop in Provence, tucked away for months until just the right moment. Coffee and ibuprofen waiting for her on the kitchen counter after she’d complained of a bad day. And he always did his damnedest to keep her from bringing in the garbage cans from the curb. Mostly. But it was pretty fucking hard to keep all that in mind when she was scrambling up the stairs – stairs! – heading to some dinner she probably didn’t want, sweating in a maternity dress because her bust was still too big for anything else.

This must have been why she was on edge all week. Birthdays were fifty-fifty. Good ones were pretty good. Bad ones were insanely bad. And with no in-between, the anxiety was torture until Anna figured out which one it would be this year.

She walked through the courtyard of an elegant, curved building, looking for Suite 422A. All the restaurants and shops she was passing seemed to be in the 200s, and that meant she probably needed to go up two more flights. There were escalators ahead, flanked by fountains and terraced gardens. Too bad the driver hadn’t let her off on this side of the building. It was a pretty nice place, all things considered.

Well, it was her birthday, so whatever this was would fucking wait for her. She stepped onto the escalator and let it carry her casually upward.

The fourth floor corridor was more of a balcony, travertine tile underfoot, and signs for businesses took the form of gold placards above each door. But these were not restaurants. Those were on the lower floors.

It appeared as though the numbers would run out as she reached the end of the corridor, but the walk extended, allowing Anna to round the corner. Damn! Her feet were killing her. The least her husband could have told her was to wear sensible shoes.

Finally, she found Suite 422A, but the placard above was simply the number of the suite, no business listed. Yes, very dramatic. With a sigh, she pulled on the dense, riveted door.

The small space beyond was dimly lit. It seemed to be a receiving area. As she entered and the door clanged shut behind her, she couldn’t help but feel she’d stepped into a very posh vault. It was quiet, this space, with crimson velvet curtains closed over what, she couldn’t guess. There were no windows on this side of the building. The carpet was thick shag, white with slate grey gradients at the edges. The space did not have the traditional reception counter but instead boasted of a large mahogany desk between two doors. After adjusting to the quiet, she believed she could hear the murmur of distant conversation through the door to the right.

“Welcome to Purgatory,” said the girl sitting at the desk. Her blonde pixie cut seemed well-suited to the delicate bones of her young face, set off by a single blue gem sparkling aside her nostril. When she stood, Anna found the girl petite, though still a few inches taller than Anna.

“You must be Anna.” She touched her chest. “I’m Amanda. “

“Yeah, hi. My husband is already here then?”

“Yes, he arrived some time ago. You’re the last one.”

Shit. Are there a lot of people here? Hopefully not a lot of her husband’s friends. Anna could already feel the twinge of a headache behind her eyes.

Amanda said, “We just need you to fill out the disclaimers and set a few preferences, and then you can head to the locker room.” She slapped a bottle of water on the counter. “And drink this. It’s pretty important to stay hydrated.” Then she clapped with maniacal cheer. “You must be so excited!”

Anna frowned. “I’m sorry. For what?” She looked around. “Exactly where the hell am I right now?”

The Amanda’s face fell. “He didn’t tell you, did he.” She slowly rolled her eyes. “Why do guys think that’s a good idea?”

“All I got was this card,” said Anna, lifting the card out of her purse before dropping it back in.

“Shit,” said Amanda. “Well. Either escort ankara you’re going to hate it, or you’re going to love it. There really isn’t an in-between. So I’ll put it to you bluntly. Purgatory is a couples-only, member run sex club. People come here for exhibition, domination, submission, and a range of bondage.”

“What the fuck?” said Anna, taking a step back.

“Yeeeah,” said Amanda with a wince and a sorry drawl. “Your husband signed you both up for the year. And your suggested profile for tonight reads,” looking down at her tablet display, “submissive, light bondage, angel-style – that means the restraints are soft and everything is a bit more pleasant – no audience, husband optional, birthday. Oh! Happy birthday!”

“What the actual fuck!”

Anna grabbed the water bottle on the counter, practically ripped the cap off, and pounded the whole thing in one go. That bastard. How the hell could that bastard think this was okay? How the hell did he imagine she would EVER go for something like this, even if they’d discussed it?

Well, truth be told, they had discussed it. As FICTION! They both agreed that a swingers club would be be exciting and a little dangerous. But they also agreed that it was only hot in theory, and in porn. In real life… well… just… what the fuck!

“So clearly you’re upset,” said Anna, hand out tentatively. “But there are some things you should know before you attempt to kill your husband, okay?”

She waited for Anna to respond, which took a few seconds. Beneath flared nostrils and thin lips, she said, “Fine.”

“Everything here is consensual. Anyone can back out of anything at any time for any reason, so safe words are mandatory. Doms are also members, and for the newly initiated, they have a lot of experience, quite a lot in fact, at least in the blind the rooms where there’s no audience. We do encourage an audience for the safety of everyone involved, but in a blind room, your partner can be in the room with you or wait behind a one-way mirror, so that you feel more isolated. The doms usually work with their partners, but only you specify who touches you. Remember these are couples-only, so unless you’re in for a full swap which is common enough, you should expect company. If your partner is behind the mirror, they have a pair of lights on the wall that you can see, red and green. These are to communicate with you, not anyone else. Green means ‘more into it’, and red means ‘less into it’. But you can ignore them, or they can be disabled. It’s your call. Some couples like a measure of distanced intimacy, and we came up with the lights to help afford that.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “Is this even legal?”

“It’s not for profit run entirely by members. We all pay a substantial annual fee to keep a place like this in uptown,” said Amanda. “But anyone can earn discounts by doing various jobs. Some of the office staff are here so often, their membership is free. Jason and I, that’s my husband, joined a few months after we were married. It has opened up so much of our sexuality and requires a lot of communication, and I can honestly say we have never been so well-connected.”

“You’re what, 26?” said Anna.

“32, but thank you,” said Amanda with a smirk. “I see you criticizing my life experience, and I want you to know I understand where you’re coming from.”

Wiping a hand down her face, Anna groaned and turned around. She needed a goddamn minute. If she were sane, she would call another Uber and start hunting for a good divorce attorney, or at least a marriage councilor. But really? She and her husband had been through a lot of shit. With the miscarriages, and the surgeries and the IVF. They used to fight constantly. And now… now… life was pleasant. Anna was content.

Content.

Just content. She’d said those words to him back in July. They’d agreed that life had been far more exciting when they were younger. Harder, though. Much harder. And wasn’t it a shame with established careers and a home and a family that there was so little time to enjoy it? So little to look forward to? Shit. Anna was starting to look forward to her monthly runs to Target.

But this? It’s so… crazy. It’s fucking totally crazy.

Thing thing was, Anna had at some point in the last few minutes become keenly aware of her heart racing. And she was warm. She could feel the AC hitting her in the back of the neck, and she was still warm. She shifted stance, her legs rubbing together, and she could feel the moistness of her panties. They were… fuck they were downright damp.

Gritting her teeth and taking a deep breath, Anna whipped around. “So… my husband will be there?”

Amanda tried to bite back a smile before saying, “He’ll be waiting behind the mirror, and he’ll be able to hear you. So if you want him in the room, you can just ask. There’s a door in there to let him in. No lock.”

“And I get to decide what happens?”

Biting her lip, Amanda said, “Nnnno. You’re the submissive, assuming that’s the role you actually want. You get esenyurt escort to be bound and played with at the discretion of your dom. But this is angel-style, so we’re talking intensity, not pain. And your partner can be as involved as you like in everything but the instruction. The dom has to be in control of the room. It’s one of the key rules of Purgatory. But if you call the safe word, the whole thing ends. All the way, done for the night. So – Be. Sure.”

“And it’s safe?”

With a little shrug, Amanda said, “Well, yes and no. It wouldn’t be exciting if it was totally safe, but angel-style is intro level anyway. And if you submit to penetration, the male doms wear condoms as mandated by membership statute. Technically he’s not allowed to take it off, but in a blind room… well… it’s more negotiable. If you’re into that sort of thing. And if you tell anyone I told you that, I’ll lie through my teeth.”

Anna’s heart was thundering in her chest. She said, “What do I need to fill out?”

With a flourish, the blonde girl rotated the tablet. “Validation or modification of preferences and consent, liability waiver, et cetera. And then you can go to the locker room and slip out of that dress. Or not. There’s robes in there. Most first-timers are more comfortable with robes.”

Looking down the list, Anna read through the items, pretty much as Amanda described, but for a few.

Dom: male or female. Like every sexually healthy individual, Anna had probed her interested in the opposite sex. She was okay watching it online. Woman ate the best pussy, for sure. But there were already too many new things going on tonight for that. She checked ‘Male’.

Dom’s partner: participates, assists, watches. Hmm. Definitely not participates.

“Does the dom’s partner have to be there?” asked Anna.

“This is a couples club,” said Amanda with a little shrug. “So that’s kind of up to the partner.”

Okay, so… assists, maybe? That seems okay. Assists.

Penetration, check all that apply: toys, tongue, finger, fist, penis, oral, vaginal, anal. Jesus Christ, thought Anna. This was fucking real. She thought about it, felt herself flushing all over as she ticked the boxes down the list. Skip fist, duh. And she stopped at anal.

You only live once, Anna. Deep breath.

She ticked anal.

Husband behind the mirror: Check. If he thought he had the right to ambush her with a fucking sex club, then he was going to fucking watch the show. Too bad there was no way to keep his hands off his dick. That would serve him right. What? So she was still mad. And she should be.

But then, the signal lights were a neat idea. Entering this experience at all spoke to a certain degree of trust between the two of them. And no, she didn’t want to see him while she was being pounded, but it would be nice to know he was still into it. Anna opted for the signal lights.

The rest was legal. Her eyes scanned down to the bit about consent. That was in good order. Non-consensual activity resulted in membership termination and possible criminal charges. Honestly, this thing was pretty solid. It was precisely the level of accountability and security she would have required even to consider such a thing. Either Anna’s husband had done his homework, or he had been very lucky. In this, she felt confident that he had done his homework. He knew what turned her on, where her boundaries were, and they had always been communicative about their shared sexuality. And much as Anna thought a surprise like this was the grossest display of macho confidence and fallible assumption… she had to admit there was a reason her panties were halfway to soaking right now. That fucking asshole.

Fine. Then he was going to watch another man make her cum. Maybe a lot. She must have appeared to swoon, because Amanda rushed her another bottle of water, which Anna took a little more time to put back than the first.

Scrolling to the bottom of the tablet, Anna found a place for her signature next to an entry for her safe word. “Mayonnaise.” She hated mayonnaise.

When she spun the tablet back around, Amanda executed a series of taps on the display and then offered Anna a broad, brilliant grin. “Follow me.”

Anna was grateful for the chance to walk, to give some activity to the anxious flutters that wracked her chest. They passed through the doorway on the left, away from the sound of voices, and headed down a long hall with hardwood floors and low-light wall sconces. The air smelled a little too sweet. At intervals they would pass a heavy-looking door, and Anna could hear the sound of moaning, sometimes whimpering. She licked her lips, suddenly dry, and finished the water bottle.

Amanda opened the locker room door and said, “When you’re ready, you’ll be in the room labeled ‘Vanity’.” Sweetly, she sung, “See you soon.” She winked and pivoted. Anna watched the blonde’s ass swing as she put one foot in front of the other.

Inside the locker room, it was brighter owning to the clean white eskişehir escort color flowing from the fixtures, but it wasn’t that much brighter. Anna found lockers made of varnished wood, sinks opposite, a fine carpeted aisle underfoot with white tile in the bays, and a series of open showers and toilets situated at the far end of the narrow room. Standing at the sinks was a woman, perhaps in her later middle years of tall, lean build, completely nude and holding a towelette.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Anna.

“For what?” said the woman with a pleasant smile. In the clean white light, her brilliant green eyes popped.

“I just,” said Anna. “I don’t know.”

The woman, her silvering hair in a bun atop her head, did not bother to hide her assessment of Anna’s figure. “Wow,” said the woman. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?”

“Uh, thank you,” said Anna. At come point, she had started clutching an arm over her chest.

“I’m Silvia,” said the woman. “I’m here to help you wash up and get you anything you need.”

“I think I can handle things.”

“Of course you can,” said Silvia. “But where’s the fun in that?” She stalked forward, long legs showing very little of her age.

Anna took special note of the woman’s fully grown pubic region and realized she was about to parade in front of a stranger without having groomed in months. Damn. This is what happens when people are impulsive. Shit.

Silvia said, “My husband handles the other locker room.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He wears a gimp suite. Obviously most men don’t want help getting ready. What the hell do they need to do but splash a little water on their taints? So he mostly hands out product and sets the mood. The fairer sex, however, deserves a little pampering for all the extra effort.” She ran a fingertip along her own collarbone.

“I’m pretty new to this,” said Anna, forcing the air from her lungs. Silvia nodded with a quirk to her mouth. “I’d maybe like to do what I can on my own.”

“As you wish, darling,” said the woman, stepping backward. “But if you need anything, towel, back washed, product, cunnilingus, just let me know. We carry Aveda.”

Anna ticked her brow at that. “Thank you.”

Selecting the locker bay closest to the showers and farthest from Silvia, Anna opened the door and found a waiting robe and thong slippers. She deposited her purse, stepped out of her heels to drop two inches, and reached behind her back for the zipper.

Ugh.

“Um,” she said, the volume of her voice a bit startling. “Silvia, could I get, um…”

The woman was attending in moments, and a quick zip loosened the black sheath. When Anna muttered thanks over her shoulder, Silvia was already returning to her position at the sinks. Respectful here, thought Anna.

Lowering the dress was nothing, less than a thought. But then Anna stood in her bra and panties and found herself trembling with indecision. In those moments, she smelled it. The scent of her own sex and a slight touch of underarm odor. A full day of work, no shower before leaving the house, and her body humming with arousal for the last fifteen minutes or so… Was that gross? Or hot? Would another man be shoving his face into her fragrant vagina tonight?

She glanced at the showers and licked her lips. Unhooking her black bra, Anna let her breasts free. They ached when lowered. Was she really about to show them to another man, complete with all the ravages of motherhood? They took up half her torso for God’s sake! But then Silvia’s breasts hung like raisins, and she was still stunning. Then Anna touched her belly. A belly that had once been pregnant, and that was painfully obvious.

Maybe Anna should call the Uber, after all.

“Oh, I love your tattoo!” said Silvia from her place at the sinks.

“Sure,” said Anna, turning. “Hey, quick question. Are the members here all… you know… like, fit?”

A pleasant laugh swelled from Silvia’s throat. “God no. This is a club for people. Regular people. I know that your husband went through the interviews without you; I’m on the membership committee. So you didn’t get the whole speech. We don’t exactly discriminate against the beautiful, but we don’t really offer membership to anyone overly perfect. People have flaws. That’s important. We want our members to feel liberated and open with their bodies. That’s hard to do with a supermodel celebrity spanking your ass, no matter how sexy he is.” Silvia smiled. “Darling, I hope you see this as a complement. You fit right in.”

There was actually a moment where Anna felt such relief rushing through her core that she wondered if she’d start to tear up. But the feeling passed quickly, and she simply nodded.

After a deep settling inhale, she decided that a shower was still best.

Dropping her panties, Anna approached the stalls. Her auburn hair was already up, not tight like Silvia’s. Anna’s husband liked it loose and messy, and she’d come to find the look suited her. The water hissed and was immediately warm. Water flowed down her body and under her arms as she scrubbed her pubic hair and vagina, ran a hand between the cheeks of her ass. As much as she tried to be fully clinical, she couldn’t help but remember, every time her fingers encountered her nub, that she was in a sex club. She was about to be tied up and fucked. Maybe in her ass. Definitely in her ass.

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