The Kinky Chanteuse: BDSM Ménage Erotica FFM Read online

  Julie did not elect to start slow and allow me to gradually become acclimated to her whipping temperament. She started with intense blows and kept them coming, the only variation was their placement as she roamed up and down my back, ass and thighs. My resolve to endure no matter what wavered briefly when Annie’s attack on my clit intensified and my body felt like it was on fire. I took a deep breath and willed myself to embrace the pain being inflicted upon my body, and eventually I was successful. The pain didn’t diminish, but I began enjoying it, somehow aroused by it.

  Instead of it being an ordeal, the whipping session transformed into an intense pleasure-pain marathon. I wasn’t aware that Annie and Julie had switched places until I felt the bite of the bullwhip on my breasts. By then my body was awash in endorphins so her assault on my tits just heightened my arousal. Before long, her aim drifted lower and finally settled on my pussy. While Annie peppered my butt with forceful strokes from her riding crop, Julie tortured my clit with a steady stream of precision blows from her whip.

  As I sensed that an explosive orgasm was approaching, I mused on how debauched and depraved it was to derive pleasure from being whipped simultaneously by two mistresses. Yet it felt like the most natural thing in world, despite being ever so wicked. Finally, I reached my pleasure-pain threshold and my whole body erupted in a mind-numbing climax that consumed me for several minutes, leaving me with a residual glow in my loins for the remainder of the afternoon.

  ****

  I noticed a reserved sign on a table directly in front of the stage when I arrived for the first Saturday night set. Although it was rare, occasionally someone with juice would do that. Usually it was some minor deity in the GLBT community that I had never heard of. So, when Lenny Birkstrom, frontman for the popular rock band Mosaic, was ushered to that table I was both surprised and flattered that he came to see me perform. But what surprised me even more was that Julie joined him at the table a few minutes later. She smiled enigmatically at me before taking a long pull on the longneck beer in her hand, just as I opened the set with my signature cover of Gimme Shelter.

  Even music fans that were born long after that Rolling Stones classic was first released really seem to enjoy it and it always starts the set off with a lot of energy. My sets are an eclectic mix of old and new songs from diverse genres reworked so I can accompany myself on piano. Sometimes I cater to La Chatte Noir’s clientele base by throwing in some Melissa Etheridge covers, but when I do that I don’t really feel like I’m pandering because many of her songs are among my own favorites as well. On that particular evening I ended the hour-long set with a bluesy tune that I wrote while touring with No Holds Barred.

  As I prepared to leave the stage, Julie waved me over to her table. With old fashioned charm, Lenny stood when I arrived and pulled out a chair for me to sit alongside him while Julie made the introductions.

  “That was a great set,” Lenny told me. “You have a really strong voice and your piano arrangements were inspired.” Barely pausing to take a breath he added, “Where did you find that last song? I’d like to record that myself.”

  His initial remarks I attributed to polite flattery, but his interest in my song was intriguing.

  “If you really are interested in recording Naughty Mama, I can probably persuade the author to grant you permission,” I replied with mock seriousness.

  “Yeah? I’d appreciate it if you would. Who wrote it?”

  Smiling coyly, I confessed that it was me.

  With an appreciative grin he said, “You’re a woman of many talents.”

  “So they say,” I replied with a self-deprecating snort.

  Our conversation continued in this vein, with Julie occasionally joining in. Before I left to begin the second set, we made arrangements for me to join Lenny at an informal recording session the following week.

  ****

  The studio was located in the basement of Lenny’s Bel Air home. In addition to state-of-the-art recording equipment, it boasted an impressive collection of musical instruments. While Lenny was busy getting ready for the session, I was killing time in that spacious sound-proofed room when my eyes fell upon a pristine Fender Stratocaster propped up on a stand in the corner. It was clear that this was a working guitar and not a museum piece, so I picked it up and played some classic rock ‘n’ roll riffs that I learned in my Berklee days. Oh my, the sounds that came out of that guitar were sweet indeed.

  I couldn’t help myself; I started channeling Bo Diddley and every badass rocker that I’d ever heard play one of those suckers. Pretty soon I was strutting back and forth belting out Bad to the Bone. As I teased out my best George Thorogood growls I heard a rhythm guitar and drum accompanying my guitar solo. Totally into the performance, I kept going even as I turned to see Lenny strumming his six-string while Julie tapped out the beat with the precision of a metronome.

  My reason for being there was to help Lenny learn the words and chords to my song, but that goal was destined to be delayed for several hours. We had so much fun with our spontaneous performance that we continued to jam all afternoon. When we finally got around to working on Naughty Mama, we were so attuned to each other’s musical sensibilities that it just flowed together effortlessly. Lenny and I nailed it after only two takes, despite having switched the arrangement from solo to duet on the fly.

  After the session wrapped Lenny and Julie took me on an informal tour of the estate, beginning with the extensive grounds behind the main house. By the looks of it, the expertly manicured garden must have been a full-time job for a gardener to maintain. I was particularly taken with the horizonless edge pool and the adjacent lanai and cabana. It was easy to picture myself lounging au naturel poolside sipping a frosty tropical drink, periodically slipping into the shimmering silky-soft pool water to cool down.

  I lost count at twenty rooms as we meandered through the house. Finally, the tour stopped in front of a door just down the hall from the master suite. Julie smiled mischievously and said, “I think you will find this room rather interesting,” then opened the door and entered.

  As I followed her in she turned on the lights, revealing an enormous well-appointed private dungeon whose walls were lined floor-to-ceiling with mirrors. The array of diabolical equipment and accouterments reflected to infinity on all sides made it seem like I’d walked into a perverse funhouse. While my fertile imagination conjured vivid scenarios of bondage and discipline with me as a willing participant, Lenny interrupted my fantasies with a simple question: “Do you see anything in particular that you’d like to try out?”

  Lenny’s query brought my focus back to the here and now. Considering his relationship with Julie, I can’t say I was shocked to learn that he was involved with BDSM to the extent of having his own tricked-out playroom. But I was blindsided by it—that aspect of his life was not something I had even thought or speculated about.

  After studying my options for a few moments, I pointed to a sturdy looking apparatus with parallel padded runners about knee high and an adjustable padded two-foot wide riser connecting them in the middle.

  “That looks like it has interesting possibilities,” I finally replied.

  “It does indeed,” Lenny assured me.

  Without being told to, I began removing my clothes. To my delight, Julie and Lenny followed suit. Judging by Lenny’s full erection, no matter what else transpired I was reasonably sure that his cock would end up in at least one of my naughty places before we were through.

  Soon I was on the device draped over the riser with my ass propped up slightly and my lower arms and legs strapped firmly to the runners in two places—with the exception of my neck, movement of any part of my body was impossible. Kneeling there with my legs and arms secured and forced apart made me feel helpless and vulnerable…and very submissive. An erotic glow of humiliation crept over my body as I felt my pussy juices begin to dribble down my thighs in anticipation of the impending scene.

  Julie went off to fetch a favorite toy while Le
nny set about attaching clothes pins to my body, starting on my nipples and then slowly working his way down to my labium. On the more sensitive flesh, the initial pain from the pins was like a sharp pinch but it gradually subsided to a dull ache. Many of the clothes pins merely generated a constant pressure that was neither pleasant nor painful. However, I knew from experience that a surge of pain would materialize as blood rushed to the pressure points when they were removed abruptly.

  My focus on the sensations caused by the clothes pins was abruptly diverted when I heard the distinct sound of crackling electricity. I turned my head toward the sound and saw Julie holding an electric ray wand, pointing it toward the ceiling with one hand while adjusting the setting with the other. The sadistic smile on her face as she concentrated on her task was sexy as hell and a little frightening. I shivered briefly as I imagined how she would put that wicked tool to use.

  Within seconds I was experiencing a torrent of pricks where the electric current followed the contour of my lower body, starting at my toes and gradually migrating upwards. The pain was intense but not excruciating, but since I was unaccustomed to its bite, deriving pleasure from it proved to be elusive. When Julie began raking my genitals with her toy’s arcing current the pain level escalated exponentially, aided significantly by the jiggling of the clothes pins Lenny had clipped to my clitoris and labium. Apparently familiar with the nuances of this activity, with relative ease she managed to transform me into a quivering, drooling, pain slut eager to embrace whatever depravity and humiliation was demanded of me.

  Soon after I started panting and howling in lust, I felt Lenny’s cock forcing its way into my mouth and down my throat. He grabbed the back of my head and pushed his formidable cock as far into the recesses of my oral cavity as it would go, nearly choking me in the process. This was not a loving blow job, it was a brutal face fucking—and I enjoyed every politically incorrect thing about it!

  Finally, after a seeming eternity of deep-throating Lenny and having my pussy semi-electrocuted by Julie, Lenny reached down and one-by-one flicked the clothes pins free; my body went into sensory overload and my entire being was wracked with a shuddering, mind-numbing orgasm that almost caused me to black out. Lenny and Julie left me alone for a while to recuperate, eventually returning to release me from my bonds and press an ice-cold beer into my hand.

  ****

  I exited the pool alongside Julie and headed with her toward the cabana, leaving a trail of water on the deck while my naked body quickly began to drip dry in the ambient afternoon heat. After we showered off the residue of the pool’s chlorinated water I dropped to my knees and began orally pleasuring Julie’s pussy, just as I had been doing every day since becoming her and Lenny’s live-in submissive. Other than occasions like this, my time at home was mostly split between the dungeon and Lenny’s studio, where my ability to sing and play numerous instruments was utilized extensively.

  Rarely did I wear clothes anymore, regardless of who was present, except when I went out in public or performed at La Chatte Noir. More than once I found myself marveling at how different my life had become in such a short time. If it hadn’t been for Marie hitting on me and then cajoling Sylvia into helping with her crazy plan to transform me into a domme, I’d still be living a relatively mundane and sexless life. Sometimes it is strange and wonderful indeed how things work out the way that they do.

  Not long after I was done pleasuring Julie, an out-call beautician arrived and began to laser off all my body hair. For now, she was working on everything from my neck down, but Julie and Lenny had intimated that one day the rest would go as well, and then I would be completely devoid of hair forever. Whenever I thought about that eventuality, a sweet mix of arousal and submission washed over me and my pussy began to moisten.

  The rest of Mosaic’s band members were content to be semi-retired for the time being, so Lenny was exploring a solo career using Julie and me as his studio band. We were able to cut tracks on a variety of instruments and mix them together later. It was a curious experience working nude in the studio most of the day and then dressing up for my show at the club in the evening.

  Not long after Lenny’s solo album dropped Naughty Mama shot to number one on the charts. Once that happened the media descended upon us for interviews and fluff pieces. A couple of the more enterprising journalists sussed out my relationship with La Chatte Noir and soon after they broke the news the club started to sell out every night and its clientele demographics became much more diversified.

  About once a week or so Lenny dropped by the club to join me on stage for duets of my song and a few others. This fueled the media frenzy to the point that Lenny decided to book a few venues nearby on nights when I wasn’t performing at La Chatte Noir. The concerts, featuring Lenny, Julie and me, were billed as Lenny Birkstrom and Yin-Yang. The momentum picked up like a snowball rolling downhill and eventually I took a hiatus from the club while we headed off on a U.S. tour, following yet one more path of least resistance.