Manufactured for Sin

12 The Club, Part 2

He wasted no time with conversations or permission, nor any introductions. After all, this was an anonymous club for sex, and we didn't want any introductions anyway. The matching color codes on our collars indicated the rules, and He planned this very well. Even Osirians could blend into this dark, anonymous setting of alien extremes and strange sights, and our eyes literally glow. I've never felt so anonymous, while being so relieved to be unrecognizable, as he hiked my dress up to my waist.

The worst part is that when you share a conscious personality with someone, you can't really tell them that anything is entirely their idea, He get's to make the rules and you can't deny them, and despite appearing to everyone else that you're merely appeasing the idea, he knows it was just as much YOUR idea, and there's no playing innocent. He may share the experience, after each dirty little romp, but in the moment, it's all on you, and the pressure to perform and somehow be "classy" is entirely yours.

If he wants to display me, I must want to be displayed. I must want that attention. Anything slightly sadistic only proves my own masochism, anything he does to toy with me, means I want to be toyed with. It's as if he owns me, and by that very fact that he enjoys it, means I want to be owned. The safety in trusting myself doesn't change the fact that on some strange level, I can't help but be slightly abusive to myself.

Why does the idea of being someone's property immediately make me defiantly angry, but when I'm HIS property, I can't help but love it? Who owns who? Does it even matter? I'm always exploring both sides in perfect balance. The more I submit, the more I get to conquer. Did I love the idea that I get to remember dominating me entirely, or was I really just enjoying being dominated? Was that always buried in my head, and being a man pressured me to deny it, or is being a woman now so influential, that it created it? When did that happen? Either way, it's here now.

It's such a strange feeling to feel in absolute control of someone who submits to nobody, while also being completely submissive to only one person, and never having to worry that they'll take anything too far or abuse that power. Have I always been craving that switch, and the combination of trust issues and being the biggest baddest thing around never allowed that opportunity? Did he realize that before I did, and that's why he is so insistent to push me?

It's like the power feeling I get when Izleena submits, while also understanding how it feels for her. By learning myself better, was I understanding HER better? Was cheating on her, exactly what I needed to be better FOR her, or does she just know my selfish nature better than I do, and this was the only way to grasp that through my stubborn armor. Either way there was a lot of heavy grasping, and my defenses were completely down...as well as my panties.

I felt the sensation of his hand running over my ass, and his nails lightly clawing my skin. It was very noticeable that he had rounded them off heavily. Not only did that clarify that he took time to plan this, but it spoke volumes as to his intentions, and where they intended to go, especially given that a few claw-marks on my back or thighs wasn't remotely a problem for me. One could even call it a bonus, so the act itself left very few target locations where set of sharp nails would be considered a bad thing.

He tossed me up to the table, one hand between my thighs and one on my stomach, sliding up my dress to my chest, groping me as he held me down. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand and moved it to my throat, gripping his wrist as an anchor point. I gasped as he slid his fingers inside me, lightly gripping my neck as I encouraged him to restrain me further. He took the hint.

I could hear the crowd chuckle and agree, with muttered approval and attention. After a little bit of squeezing his hand, he squeezed back the right amount, tightening his grip on my throat.