Page 16 of The Secret Club
After putting my youngest back to bed I do all the usual things that a mum does. I tidy away the day in the kitchen and dining room, put another load of washing on and fold the one that has been sitting in the dryer for a few days now. Before my playmate days I would listen to endless audiobooks to fill my headwith stories and spice whilst doing chores. Now I find I don’t need either, I have so many thoughts rolling through my mind and imagination. Becoming a playmate has turned my real life spice up to a five-out-of-five chilli rating on the spicy scale and that’s just with my husband. Including the jobs, it blows my mind how this is my life, and it is happening to me. And there are two of me, Rosie the mum and wife—hard working, normal and friendly. Then there is Roxy: playmate, confident and willing submissive for a fee. I catch myself laughing out loud. What is happening to my life?
9
Frank picks me up at 6:35pm precisely and drives me blindfolded the 25 minutes to my next mystery club member’s location. I have no idea what direction we even started in, I’m listening to the radio and taking deep breaths. I’m nervous, just as nervous as I was on my first job. No amount of shaving, waxing, lotions, make up, blow-dry and new clothes is helping. I’m still going to an unknown address, with a complete stranger. Will they hurt me? Of course they will. But will it be unbearable? Will I have to use my safeword? I really hope I don’t, I want to be able to submit and please Member 204, show him I’m a good girl and worth the money he’s paying me.
When the car pulls to a stop, Frank lets me know I can take my blindfold off. I blink as I adjust my eyes to the dim light of a lamp light in front of a winding path. I say thank you to Frank and he lets me know he’ll be right there in three hours to collect me. I open the blacked-out BMW door and climb out of the car, closing the door as carefully as possible so as to not draw any attention. The house I’ve just been dropped off to is abig double story detached house in a long street of detached houses with neighbours.
I hurry up the pathway through a manicured garden of shrubs and bushes. Once I’m at the big green door I wait and wonder if I should knock when I glance up to see a motion camera. I have no doubt that whoever is behind this door knows I have arrived. In a moment of uncertainty, I wonder what kind of a person lives here. The door makes an unlatching noise from a lock and a man stands in the doorway, light streaming in behind him so I can only see his outline. “Please come in,” he murmurs in a low, quiet voice. I move my feet quickly inside and the door is closed swiftly behind me.
I turn to face the stranger in the light and can see he’s almost 6 foot, has a buzz cut of dark greying hair and is built like a tank. I think my reference to the tank is also because he looks like he just walked out of the army. His eyes are grey and they look menacing. I almost take a step back.
“Roxy,” he states. I nod. “I’m Henry.” Reaching out his arm, I shake his hand. His giant hand almost engulfs my tiny one and I wonder if my fingers will survive the crush of his hand.
“Follow me.”
It’s then that I take in my surroundings. The interior of the house has crisp white walls and dark wooden flooring. Black frames adorn the entranceway walls showcasing black and white photos of different landscapes and countries. They’re beautiful photos and I wonder for a moment if Henry is a photographer. More photos line the stairway that I glance over as I follow Henry up the stairs. He leads me down a hallway lined with closed doors on either side of me until we stop at the last one on the right. When Henry opens the door I almost gasp. Inside there looks to be a hospital bed in the centre of the room with lighting set up around it and a camera angled on a pole towards the end of the bed. I shudder, it looks like a medical theatre on set at a tv station.
As room set ups go, I was not expecting this one to look like this. I’m not sure if it looks more like a medical examining room or a serial killer’s room who enjoys dismembering his victims. There is no plastic on the floors which I take as a good sign. To the side, where you’d expect the medical instruments to be lined up on a side table, thereisa heavily laden small trolley but the instruments are of the dildo variety. I almost let out a sign of relief. No knives.
Taking in the rest of the room, it’s white like the entrance and hallway but has dark grey fluffy carpet. There is a black velvet sofa in the corner and a drinks trolley where Henry waits.
“Can I offer you a drink, Roxy? I am going to pour myself a whisky. I have Champagne on ice.”
Grateful for the offer, I reply quickly, “Champagne would be lovely, thank you Henry.” His eyes darken at me using his name. I wonder if it’s his actual real name rather than the alias he’s supposed to use. I watch as he pours himself two fingers of amber liquid. Then he uncorks a Dom Perignon bottle and pours out a flute for me.
“Thank you.” I smile as Henry hands me the flute, I take a sip and the delicious bubbling liquid slides down my throat like honey. I take a few more sips in quick succession before Henry speaks again. He’s looking at me intently, darkly. His eyes are burning into me and making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. My instincts are firing, wary of this solid man of muscle. He’s wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt fitted tight across his huge chest. His forearms are massive, big veins prominent against his bulging muscles. This man looks like he could tear me in half with his bare hands. Maybe just the one hand to break my neck. I blanch at these thoughts invading my mind.
“Drink up Roxy, I would like you to be nice and relaxed forme,” Henry instructs as he tips his own glass back in one gulp. “Come, sit down on the sofa for a minute.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice; I’ve already sipped half the glass—the second half doesn’t take me long whilst I’m seated on his lovely posh velvet sofa. The bubbles are going straight to my head, and I encourage the heady feeling of being tipsy and relax back a little.
“Have you been stretched before Roxy?”
“No, I-I haven’t. This is my first time.”
“Excellent. That is music to my ears Roxy. I want to be the first person to fill up your beautiful holes to their maximum capacity. Then I want to watch you gape for me.”
I let out a nervous laugh. I don’t know what to say in reply. This man is slightly scaring me; my brain is telling me to run. But his words are turning me on and the intention set in his eyes is sparking a light within my core.
“It’s time to get you undressed, Roxy.”
“Would you like me to take my shoes off?” I don’t know why I am asking this, he must want me to. I kick myself for asking a stupid question. It must be the wine loosening my lips.
“Yes please.”
I remove my shoes before pulling the straps of my black minidress down each shoulder and arm and then past my braless breasts. There is one hickey on my left breast that James gave me last night. It seems he’s taken to branding me to stake his ownership over me. That makes my pussy flutter thinking of his possessiveness.
I stand, letting the fabric fall to the floor before stepping out of it. Henry moves close on the sofa, wrapping one meaty arm around my body to pull me closer to him. “Allow me.” He gradually, slowly lowers my black thong down my hips like he’s opening a Christmas gift. Seeing my bare pussy he breathes in.
“Turn around and bend over—put your arms onto the bed, let me see all of you.”
Blushing, I do as he asks. Naked and tipsy I rest my forearms and head on the hospital looking bed that doesn’t have any side bars.
“Spread your legs. Wider.” He kicks my feet apart expectantly to his desired position. I feel wholly exposed. What is he going to do to me now?
With both hands Henry parts my arse cheeks as wide as they will go. Is he trying to open up my tight back hole? Then he spits and rubs his fingers from my arsehole to my pussy. I almost moan at his touch. My body is responding to his touch before my brain can keep up. I want him to stop at my clit and he reads my mind. He does pause at my sensitive bud, circling his fingers as I bare down on him. It feels good, he’s helping me relax.
“You remember your safe word?”
