BDSM Erotica
"The Rusty Nail" a sex story by Iona Blair
By midnight the noise in the Rusty Nail had reached fever pitch as the dancers squirmed naked on the stage. I'd been on my feet for over five hours and felt exhausted.
"I've gotta take a break," I said to one of the other waitresses. "Will you cover for me?" I hared off in the direction of the washrooms wanting to pee so bad I was hopping.
I got the job through a friend who had been deeply involved at the time with Brock Vance, the owner. A former professional athlete, Brock had a bad reputation as a lady's man and all round stinker.
"I know he's no good, Denise," Faye had admitted on more than one occasion. "But I'm nuts about him, I truly am."
While being interviewed for the job, I noticed how Brock went out of his way to be charming. So that's how he hooks 'em in, I thought grimly. Not immune from his wiles myself. And by the time they realized what a bastard he was, it was too late.
"Whatever happened to your butt?" I remembered asking Faye, my voice hushed with shock. I had caught a glimpse of her scourged behind as she slipped into bed.
"Oh it's nothing," she had responded sheepishly. And on closer questioning had admitted that Brock was responsible. "He gave me a spanking for mouthing off to one of the customers, that's all," she said defensively. "It's no big deal. He does the same thing to all the girls."
So I had snooped around, trying to find out all I could about this man who had so captured my best friend's heart.
But I met with a wall of silence. Everyone was afraid to talk. Until, that is, I happened across Cindy Dean, a former exotic dancer at the Rusty Nail.
"He has about a dozen girls working for him at any given time," Cindy explained. "And they're like a harem, he fucks them all."
She took a long drag on her cigarette, flicking the ash on the floor before continuing. "He has a small, jade-handled whip that he flogs them with, either privately in his office, or before the entire group."
She went onto describe in lurid detail the orgies that were held in the basement of the Rusty Nail. The punishment room and anonymous sex room were adjacent to one another.
"Anonymous sex room?" I had queried, with puzzled brow. "What on earth is that?"
"Just a series of holes punched in a wall," she replied matter-of-factly. "The girls bend over and stick their cunnies up against them, and the tricks have a grand old time fucking one after the other."
"Good god," I replied, my eyes never leaving her face. I had thought that I was unshockable, but this was something else again.
"But you know what stands out in my mind as the worst humiliation of all?" Cindy asked, knocking back the remainder of her drink in one swallow. "The donkey's tail."
"The what?" I asked incredulously.
Cindy's face took on a faraway expression that mellowed her sharp features, and she explained how Brock would make the girls he had just spanked pin a long tail onto their costumes. "Just above the cleavage of their asses," she said with a shake of her head. "And man, do the customers love it. They have a high old time grabbing at the tails and lifting them."
And now, as I faced Brock Vance across the expanse of his mock medieval desk, I found myself irresistibly drawn to this hypnotic male.
I fixed my eyes on the spot where his sleek, dark hair met in a widow's peak. He was a handsome man, no doubt about that. And he exuded a raw animal magnetism that was hard to resist.
"There's been a complaint about you from one of our oldest customers," he told me bluntly. "It seems that you were unfriendly."
I shuddered as the cold breath of déjà vu crept over me. It was for this reason that he had spanked Faye. And the thought of him doing the same thing to me filled me with fear and something else too - a quivering sense of curiosity and a disturbing excitement.
"I don't like to be touched when I'm serving drinks," I said as calmly as I could, remembering the incident in question. When a beefy fist had suddenly grabbed at my tits while the other one pawed at my crotch, and the drunken face of their owner leered up at me in a paroxysm of lust.
"Just try and be a little more diplomatic in future," Brock advised, snapping an elastic band between his fingers. "Or I may have to let you go."
"Oh please, no..." I replied at once. I needed the job, quite desperately.
"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," he murmured smoothly. Then, as an afterthought, he invited me to have a drink with him later on in the week. "We haven't had a chance to get to know each other," he said suavely. I noticed how sexy his voice was when he lowered it. "I like to have a close working relationship with all my girls."
The memory of the floggings that Cindy had described, with girls forced to kneel in the corner afterwards wearing nipple clamps with a prickly pine cone stuck up their butts immediately came back to haunt me.
Kayla was a dark, voluptuous beauty with several piercings and tattoos; An exotic dancer who repeated her stage performances on the laps of the clientele. The acts of virtual prostitution took place in a dimly lit alcove near the fire exit. She would sit astride the horny customers, wearing nothing but a g-string and high-heeled shoes, riding them energetically while they pawed every inch of her glistening body, tweaking at her nipples and genitals. Their cocks were supposed to remain inside their pants during these encounters, but this was not often the case. And Kayla was accommodating, allowing them to slip them inside her for a generous tip.
"She's in trouble with Brock," the barman confided to me while he polished a glass. Kayla had been keeping her tips instead of sharing them with the house. "He's going to punish her tonight after the bar's closed."
"If you'd like to watch, there's a spy hole in the utility cupboard," he added casually. "It's better than watching a porno, and it's all free."
Kayla was a big girl and her bottom wobbled as she slipped off her panties and bared it for the spanking. A brief, lacy top covered her heavy breasts.
"You know why you're being punished?" Brock had asked her. She stood before him and the rest of the company, like a truant child in the headmaster's office.
"Yes Sir," she replied in a barely audible whisper, shuffling her feet around in their red stiletto heels.
The punishment room was quite small, so everyone could get an eagle's eye view of the action. Kayla bent over a trestled punishment bench, and her bottom was stuck high in the air.
From my vantage point through the wall, I had a clear view of her thick, meaty genitals and I marveled at their size. Why, her clit could be accurately classified as a cock, albeit a tiny one.
Brock stood behind her, slightly to one side, and took careful aim. He dangled the multi-pronged whip with its jade handle against her quivering behind.
"Thwack!"
The first stroke fell, biting into the tender flesh and leaving a trail of angry stripes in its wake. This was followed by another and another and another... Until Kayla's bottom was an ugly, bleeding mess that reminded me of chopped liver.
An eerie silence prevailed throughout the punishment, and I could see the fear in the eyes of the watching women. But there was something else too...A sort of pent-up excitement that betrayed their arousal.
Kayla bore the harsh correction well, although she screamed piteously every time the whip landed, and sucked in her bottom in a pathetic attempt to ward off the severity of the lashes.
Brock was breathing heavily from his exertions, and his handsome face was flushed. He was also horny, his cock rising hard against his trousers. He motioned for the other women to leave the room. and then he mounted the woman he had so cruelly thrashed. His enormous member poked into the folds of Kayla's incredible genitals as she moaned and moved her wounded bottom invitingly.
I could feel my own pussy quiver with excitement as I watched this erotic coupling, and I tucked my fingers inside its slurpy recesses and fucked myself in tempo with the copulating couple.
These women must all be masochists, I decided later. I thought about Kayla's near ecstasy as she was fucked by the man who had just thrashed her. This was another reason, perhaps even the primary one, of why the women stayed with him.
I poured myself a strong drink and took it to bed with me. The size of Brock's equipment was most likely another contributing factor in their devotion. For he was, indeed, huge. I teased at my clit with a vibrator as I thought of it, and wondered how it would feel to have it inside me.
"He's great in bed," Faye had confided, defending the reasons for staying with the man. And now I could understand what she was talking about. Now, to be spanked and fucked by Brock Vance was something I both longed for and dreaded at the same time.
It was never to be. The day after Kayla's spanking the Rusty Nail was closed down by the authorities. Not for any of Brock Vance's shenanigans with his employees, or the overt sexuality on stage and in the back rooms, but for serving underage customers.
But my fickle body still longs for Brock Vance and the spanking and fucking that it so narrowly missed.
Originally published April 2006 - "April Showers"
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.