Party Nights
Submitted By: MsTanner

Skin on skin, latex on latex, hands gripping Party Nights  hands gripping thighs, Tanner stood in a tight fistful of friends on a regal balcony overlooking the main floor of the club. Pulsing streaks of purple and blue cut to and fro across the wild crowd beneath them, bounding along rubber and PVC-clad shoulders in a dazzling light show that was considered mundane for this club, but unprecedented in any fetish club in America.

The music was pounding in her veins. Tanner buried her face in a nearby mass of enormous cleavage while her fingers traipsed along another girl’s spine. Girls are so tender at this time of night, have you ever noticed? At a certain hour all men become heroes and all women become queens. That hour was now, with the pill from earlier starting to activate like a silent alarm. Tanner was soon swimming in blissful unity with everyone on the balcony. She glanced around, admiring their young, perfect bodies and glistening latex couture, letting her body melt into the relaxation and confidence that swaddled the group like royalty; the kind of ease that comes from partying–and playing–with the same delicious friends year after year.

Yes, this had to be London. Where perversity is the norm, and the normal deemed perverse.

The bass began to knock a gentle knock on the door of Tanner’s soul–the kind of quiet, profound call to action that only a club goer knows. A steady but insistent knocking to be let in, and unleashed onto the dance floor. It offered no words, this knock, but began to surge inside her, tingling its way through her limbs, turning in her chest, coursing waves of gratitude through her body as she reveled in the protective huddle of her gorgeous friends.

“You all right, Tanner.” The English vernacular for, “How are you doing?”
“Perfect,” Tanner purred.

And it was. The night was perfect. These people were perfect. Her latex dress was perfect. Tanner caressed her own firm waist and perfect, pert breasts. In this moment, everything was aligned, gorgeous, open, and exciting. This was the best night of her life.

And with that, she answered the knock. Giving a quick squeeze to her camarades, she tiptoed down the stairs, assessing every person she passed with exquisite delight. The low thrum of the dance floor pulled her like a tracking beam through the incredible mob: a muscled gladiator with a studded skirt; a veiled widow in red lipstick and a cape; a frost-covered ice princess in snowflake pasties; the inevitable head-to-toe black-latexed couple in matching SS uniforms and hoods. Weaving her way through the menagerie, meeting eyes with anyone who would return her smile, Tanner finally found herself in the center of the club floor. Picking up her arms felt more like flying than dancing, and she gave in to the graceful surges of the crowd, letting her body move wherever the music and friendly faces took her. She felt that anything could happen and also a profound sense of peace, free from any longing or anxiety about the future. Closing her eyes was a revelation, opening them was a celebration. It was a good night.

Swirling in the music, Tanner suddenly brushed up against a very tall, very warm body. Looking up, she sensed kindness behind his aviators. And something else. With a broad grin, Tanner introduced herself. “What’s your name?” she yelled into his ear. “Troy,” He beamed back at her, “what’s yours?” She giggled a bit, enjoying the novelty of meeting someone who didn’t recognize her. “Tanner!” She leaned in once more and laid a hand on his hard chest to make sure he got the message, “Mistress Tanner!”

“Mistress!” The young man whipped to attention. “It is an honor.” Swiping her hand into his, he bowed very low and kissed her fingertips. Then the back of her hand, her wrist, her forearm–he laid a luxurious track of kisses up one arm and down the other as Tanner squealed and squirmed with glee. This was correct behavior. It wasn’t often men as good looking as him had his good manners, and Tanner was intrigued. She asked a bare minimum of questions: from London; first time at the club; new to kink but very curious; here with friends but they’d disappeared. Everything else she needed to know was in his posture: innocent in many ways but dying to be corrupted; naturally confident and charming; a switch with a nagging submissive streak; mind-blowing in bed. Without looking down she also knew he would be hung. Men like this always were–no anxiety visible on their face thanks to years of working out and satisfying women. The kind of man who automatically relaxes you, because he himself is so relaxed in his body. A man whom other men love, and at the same time love to hate. He was quite literally built to please.

Tanner took his wrist firmly in her hand and twisted. “Come with me.” He nodded, dumb. Dancing through the crowd with the eager man trailing behind her, Tanner was intent on the couples room. She wanted to be the first to break him in, and knew that if she left him unattended it was only a matter of time before some mindless slut would be on him, humping at his leg. No, he deserved something better for his introduction to kink. Something world class. The crowd parted for them as they neared the couples room, the revelers smiling in recognition as Tanner dragged the man behind her like a lamb to the butcher’s block. He smiled too, not understanding, or, perhaps, understanding.

As they pushed past the curtained entry of the couples room, they were swathed in the thick smell of sex. Pink neon lights revealed soft flesh on every surface and in every corner. Torsos writhed and heads bobbed over a steady soundtrack of moans, groans, creaks and slaps. This was a classic couples room. Perhaps a bit more frenetic than usual, for whatever reason. Tanner took a fistful of the young man’s shirt and yanked him upstairs as he struggled to take it all in. As if on cue, an empty couch greeted them at the top of the stairs, with groping couples on either side and a dozen voyeurs lining the wall: the perfect stage for Tanner to begin her show.

She planted him in front of her, looking him up and down. Gently, she removed his sunglasses. His eyes were bright blue and terrifically sweet, and it riled the predator in Tanner like nothing else. She smiled, as a hunter smiles who has seen her prey through the trees, and stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry little one, I’ll take good care of you.” He nodded, mesmerized. Her hand flicked down to his neck suddenly, holding his face still and steady in mid-air as she came very close. “Don’t be frightened.” Looking long and hard into his eyes, Tanner brought her lips near as if to kiss him, but kept her steely grip on his neck so that he couldn’t move to taste her. He whimpered with longing. She shoved him down on the couch with one thrust.

“I think it’s just incredible,” Tanner swung a leg up onto the couch and planted a foot on his crotch, “that you are in the best fetish city in the world, in the biggest fetish club in the world, hoping to meet a hot Domme to usher you into a new era….” She twisted her foot on his cock, pinning his broad shoulders back with her hands. “And you meet ME.” He laughed nervously. Tanner could feel his pants swelling under her foot. “Do you have any idea who I am?” She released her foot, wrapped her arms around his neck and swung gracefully down into his lap, straddling him with both legs. “Do you?” He shook his head in terror, and bliss. “No Ma’am, I don’t. You’re very powerful, that’s all I know.”

Tanner clamped a hand tight over his mouth, then parted two of her fingers just enough to stretch her tongue inside his mouth. As she explored the hot, wet hole, she again found his neck with her other hand. Her small grip was merciless on his windpipe, and the triage of her probing kiss, grinding hips, and vicious choke hold was driving the poor boy to delirium. In fact, he wondered if she hadn’t somehow drugged him; he had never felt a high like this. His temples started to pound in unison with his heart, and Troy felt his head rising up off his shoulders and floating towards the ceiling. What he didn’t know is that Tanner was cutting off not only his oxygen, but the flow of blood to his brain, bringing him dangerously close to a blackout. With absurd clarity he reflected on the unhappy details of his last relationship: how bored he had been and how judgmental she had been, her annoying habits in bed, her disappointing breasts, and on and on until his eyes slid shut and his arms dropped to his sides, lifeless. At that moment Tanner relinquished her hold. She had wanted his body to surrender, to thrust him into a state of total vulnerability, before anything else; in point of fact Tanner wanted him to glimpse death, so that he might see his own life more clearly. A life with her, possibly. Inspired by her, devoted to her. She had a feeling about him.

As Tanner cradled his limp body she could feel the shudders and aftershocks jolt through him; it made her well up with pride, and some strange algorithm of care and attraction flooded her organs like warm tea on a cold stomach. At this moment, she would have done anything for this gorgeous boy. A wave of fierce, motherly protection wrapped her around him, and although by now a fair-sized crowd had gathered around the pair, none of the watchers could ever understand. In a manner of minutes Tanner had unmade him, and now she had the exquisite task of putting him back together: stronger, braver, and branded with the memory of HER.

Troy lifted up his weak head just enough to murmur in her ear, “Thank you, my Goddess.”

This small, earnest declaration earned him a proper kiss. She met his lips full on, slowly taking in every sweet sip of him. Rocking the lad back and forth in her arms, Tanner kissed and kissed him, smiling with unbridled joy that seemed to stretch forever into the dark.