Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Obviously, with my schedule, I also don’t have time for a relationship either. I know some people make it work, but it just seems like more hassle than it’s worth.
Sometimes, though, I visit this club—I used to, anyway. It’s called The Succubus.
Supposedly, it’s a place of dark pleasures where lust reigns and demons suck your soul. In reality, it’s a kinky sex club. But seriously, I always feel empty when I leave that place. Maybe there are demons there, after all.
Ever since my first visit, The Succubus has been the only thing that could pique my interest.
I’m not trying to brag, but I have women throwing themselves at me if I so much as step out of my office to get lunch. At the same time, I’ve been having an embarrassingly long dry spell.
Nice, normal girls just don’t interest me. I’ve tasted something darker, and now vanilla doesn’t do it anymore.
I haven’t visited The Succubus in a long time because I was worried about it changing me.
But it’s been a long time—more than a year. Surely, the fact that I’ve managed to stay away for so long means that I’ve got this under control.
As I turn into the dark, quiet parking lot, I wonder if I’m just making up shit excuses to indulge in an unhealthy habit.
Because regardless of the morality of it, or the healthiness of it, I’m already here, in the industrial area where the warehouse that houses The Succubus is located.
Katie
What have you gotten yourself into this time? I ask myself.
I gulp down my anxiety.
I’m not a country bumpkin by anyone’s standards. I’m a city girl, through and through. I’ve seen it all, and I’ve done it all.
Or so I thought.
As the bouncer unhooks the red rope to let us in, I realize I didn’t know anything.
I’ve done all kinds of waitressing jobs before and I even wore lingerie for some of them, so I thought this was going to be, more or less, the same.
I mean, maybe I was naïve, but Monica did call it waitressing. I don’t know how accurate that is, though.
The lobby of the restricted, members-only club is narrow. It’s dark, except for a display area where three girls kneel, wearing nothing but gold, shiny body paint.
The bright spotlight and the harsh shadows it casts make the girls appear unreal, like they’re just a figment of my imagination, like my hand would only touch air if I tried to reach out to them.
The girls fold their legs and sit on their feet. That can’t be a comfortable position to hold for long. I wonder how much they’re being paid or if they’re being paid at all.
According to Monica, the girl who introduced me to this job, some people would happily work here for free because they enjoy it.
I don’t get it.
How can that be enjoyable?
Aside from the numbness that must have taken over those girls’ legs, they’re also bound by thick, strong ropes with a rough texture that must be itchy on the skin.
The girls’ hands are restrained by ropes, too, in such a way that one girl’s covering her eyes, while another girl’s covering her ears, and the last girl’s covering her mouth. See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.
Except that’s highly ironic, considering their presence alone is a sign of the outrageously decadent depravation that goes on inside the club.
The Succubus, this club’s called. I’ve heard the name spoken in hushed whispers over the years, but I used to think this place was just urban legend.
That’s why, when Monica offered me the job, I laughed at first until I realized she was serious.
She said her fashion boutique was just a side gig, and her real job was handling recruitment for The Succubus. That was when I realized how she could afford her high-flying lifestyle when her boutique was always empty.
She offered me five-thousand dollars for one night’s work, and I said yes. But truth be told, I was sold as soon as she mentioned the club’s name.
And that’s why I’m here tonight, walking into The Succubus with a bunch of other waitresses.
Just like the lobby, the main area of the club is dark. Men in sharp business suits sit in plushy chairs that look like the seats in the cinema.
Even though there are plenty of empty chairs, most of the girls aren’t in them. Instead, they’re kneeling on the floor by their masters’ feet.
Yes, The Succubus is a BDSM club. Almost anything goes here.
The women are in all states of undress—some are even completely naked, except for the collars around their necks.
I see a handful of women wearing dresses that wouldn’t look out of place in a normal club. They stick out like a sore thumb here.
These women look uncomfortable; scared, even. They keep glancing around nervously while secretly peeking at the explicit sexual acts being done out in the open, right in front of them.