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greatstormcat · 4 months

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Club 141 AU

Poly141 x f!reader

Part 3

Series Masterlist

AN: I cannot stress enough that this is a work of fiction and there are parts of basic safety that are left out for the sake of narrative. In this situation extensive discussion about the use of items that could harm any participants should be carried out before starting a Scene. If a D-type ever springs something on you without you agreeing to it beforehand call red and get out of there. Consent is sexy as fuck. With that said, enjoy the show!

TW: MDNI 18+, BDSM themes, oral both m!receiving and f!receiving, knifeplay but no blood, wax play, handjob, mentions of subspace, restraints, p in v, orgasm denial, anal fingering, degradation, aftercare

The club wasn’t open yet, but you were already in the private room upstairs with Price and Ghost ready to discuss a scene that they had planned for you. Your collar with the club’s logo proudly wrapped around your neck already. However, the conversation ended abruptly when the door burst open to the sound of yelling. Johnny and Gaz all but fall through the door, Gaz’s hands fisted into the fabric of Johnny’s shirt as he pushes the other man violently, looking ready to kill him.

With shocking speed Ghost rushes to break them up, followed by Price, the two larger men taking one combatant each and forcing them apart as they yell, spittle flying as angry words are exchanged.

“That’s enough!” Price bellows, and the two fall into a belligerent silent.

“He’s been at me all fuckin’ week!” Johnny snaps, pointing an accusing finger at Gaz, Ghost’s palm on his chest keeping him back. “Then he punches me!” A livid red mark on his cheek stands as testament to his claim.

Price grasps Gaz firmly by the back of the neck and jerks him closer to himself, talking in a low, firm tone to get him to calm down. Gaz’s shoulders are tense, rising and falling with the effort to control his temper as he leans against Price, fists clenched until the skin on his knuckles is drawn tight.

Price must ask him a question, as you see Gaz screw his face into a pained grimace and then nod, the tension falling away slightly with whatever he has agreed to.

“Simon, take him downstairs,” Price calls to the masked man who has managed to get Johnny to back down. They all look more concerned than angry at the outburst and sudden flash of violence from Gaz, as though they see the underlying issue rather than the symptom as the main issue. Ghost walks over and takes Gaz firmly by the bicep, leading him toward the door. “Wait,” Price calls, his eyes coming to rest on you with a curious expression as he puffs on his ever present cigar. “Take her with you, she can help while you work this out of his system.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine at his words, and the way Ghost looks at you with a slight tilt to his head.

“Yeah, she can alright. C’mon,” he tells you and you get up obediently to follow the pair out of the private room. You trail along behind the two men as Ghost marches down the stairs and towards the rear of the main club, which you’ve not been into yet. These are the rooms used by the club's patrons for their Scenes. An archway, usually guarded by a bouncer, leads to a long corridor lined with closed doors every few meters, and lit with same sinful red striplights as the booths of the club and artwork lines the walls showing various monochrome images of limbs bound in various ways. You can imagine the sounds that would escape these apertures when the club is open to the public, and that thought sends a hot, needy surge through your belly.

Ghost stops at a door he seems to have chosen at random and unlocks it with the set of master keys he has in his pocket, flicking the light on inside. He stands at the open doorway and gestures for Gaz to go in, then looks down at you from behind his white skull mask.

“In you go and kneel until I return,” he says firmly. With a convulsive swallow you go in, surprised to see Gaz kneeling just inside the door, palms turned upwards and resting on his heavyset thighs, head bowed. A lick of heat courses through you at the sight of him in a submissive’s pose, and your mind finally clicks into place as to what he has been sent down here for. You kneel beside him, mirroring his position and pressing the side of your thigh against his, a tiny show of support and solidarity with him for whatever maelstrom he needs to overcome.

The room is comfortably warm, clearly designed for people to be naked in here for a while. The lighting was low, the walls and carpeting a rich royal blue. A black metal rack of various implements adorned one wall, and black padded table occupied the middle of the floor, with a St Andrews cross mounted on the wall opposite a small, two seater sofa.

Ghost returns a few moments later and you watch as he enters the room, looking up through your lashes and attempting to hide the way your breath catches as you catch a glimpse of him. He has changed his clothes. Gone is the black shirt and sharply pressed suit he usually wears, replaced with stone washed jeans, ripped and worn around the knees. He is barefoot, and shirtless, displaying the full sleeve of tattoos on one arm, the expanse of muscle on his torso and arms, along with scars that you try not to look at too long. A pair of black gloves cover his hands, and a leather belt circles his waist with something secured at the small of his back that you don’t quite see. The biggest shock is the balaclava pulled over his face, a dented and dirtied plastic skull over his eyes, and painted white lines running over the fabric covering his chin. Your heart almost stops, he looks terrifying, and you hear the faintest of groans from Gaz at the sight.

“Sergeant,” Ghost barks, and Gaz stiffens in response as you flinch slightly.

“Yessir,” he replies primly, his chin snaps up and he stares directly ahead, not at the masked man.

“Strip,” Ghost instructs. “You too,” he gruffly tells you, and you carefully move to comply alongside Gaz. Soon the two of you are kneeling again, exposed to Ghost completely and you can see the telltale shift in the soft blue denim of his jeans that speaks to his arousal. Gaz, too, carries a half hard cock between his spread thighs.

“You’ll both address me as Sir whenever I speak to you,” Ghost announces, standing in front of the two of you and adjusting the cuff of one of his gloves idly, causing his biceps to flex. “You both know your safewords, yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” you both answer in unison, receiving a satisfied hum from him. Ghost uses a pair of interlinked plastic zip ties to secure Gaz’s wrists behind his back, then does the same to you with a pair of softer, leather cuffs. With a firm grip he wraps his fingers into your hair and anchors his hands into it, maneuvering your head towards his erection, your mouth falling open without need for instruction. But he stops you a fraction of an inch from the end of his length.

“Look at that, Sergeant,” he purrs, shame heating your cheeks. “She’s eager to take my cock. Don’t you wish she was after yours?” He teases Gaz, the creaking of his restraints answering for him before he speaks.

“Yes sir,” he grits out, erection leaking and hanging loose between his spread thighs. Ghost pulls your head forward then, slowly sliding his dick over your tongue and into the back of your throat, and you can do nothing to stop the moan that claws its way out of you as he does. He holds your head still and angles his hips, slowly dragging his length back across your tongue before pushing it back in again, nudging at the ring of muscle at the back of your throat. You can hear the harsh change in his breath as it rasps through the fabric of his mask, and you consciously open your throat for him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises you, pushing harder and slipping into your throat. Gaz can see the bulge forming in your neck and huffs out a shaky breath, his untouched erection aching and drooling onto the floor. He is forced to watch as Simon languidly fucks your throat, before pulling out and letting you cough and catch your breath.

He turns to Gaz, cocking his head slightly and chuckling at the desperation on his face.

“Open,” he orders, and Gaz obeys without question, letting Ghost place a heavy palm on his head and push him down to swallow the wet length of his cock. “Fuck, it’s been too long since I had you like this, Sergeant.” Ghost’s eyes burn fiercely as he looks down at the man sucking him off, fingers curling into the curls on his scalp possessively, murmuring praises that get him taking his cock deeper and deeper each time.

It looks like Ghost is close to the edge, his knees bend slightly and he thrusts his hips in time with Gaz’s greedy gulps, but he steps back suddenly. Both men are left breathing heavily, and a trail of saliva hangs from Ghost’s flushed cock to Gaz’s full lips for a moment, catching the light.

“Stand up, both of you,” the masked man grunts as he gathers himself, and you follow Gaz’s lead carefully to get to your feet with your hands still cuffed behind your back. Once your are both standing Ghost reaches to the small of his back, and a soft pop indicates something being unfastened at his belt. Slowly he brings his hand forward again, the soft light of the room's lamps glinting off of sharp, vicious steel.

Your chest constricts as he steps closer to Gaz, lifting the knife to the shorter man’s face. You don’t know how you know, but you know the knife is real, sharp, deadly. Ghost runs the blade along Gaz’s cheek, then jaw, down the column of his throat making his Adam’s apple bob in response. Gaz holds himself completely still, barely breathing as the cold, glittering steel traces across his skin and muscles, further down his torso.

His eyes are half lidded, dark and a thousand miles away as Ghost draws the edge of the draw along the underside of Gaz’s erect cock, which twitches in response, a pearl of clear fluid gathering at its swollen tip. Your heart pounds in your mouth as you watch, your pussy clenching around nothing.

Finally, Ghost steps behind Gaz and slices through the plastic cuffs and sheathes the blade before checking in with you both. When he is satisfied you are good to continue he arranges Gaz lying on the padded table on his back and instructs you to position yourself over the prone man’s face. You obey, thighs slick against his cheeks, and you clit twitches and throbs when his breath ghosts over your wet folds. “If you wanna get your dick in her, you have to earn it,” Ghost explains. “Good boys get rewarded, and you’ve been a little shit. Take your punishment and you can get your end wet.”

“Yes sir,” Gaz answers, his voice soft and deep.

“For now, you get her off with your mouth.”

Ghost’s hand presses your shoulders down, forcing you to rest down on his face, and Gaz immediately licks at you, his hands wrapped around your soft thighs. His dark, hooded eyes lock onto yours, holding your gaze as he presses his tongue up to your clit and slowly circles it, before lapping through your folds. You cannot hide how wet you are already just from having a cock in your mouth and watching their interactions.

The sound of a lighter flicking draws your attention, just as a flame flares in Ghost’s hand and illuminates his masked face momentarily. He lights a purple candle in a large glass holder, a lip for pouring on one edge. Wax play, you think to yourself and your skin prickles at the thought of the hot wax.

Ghost moves behind you where you can’t see, heading towards Gaz’s bare stomach. You know when the molten material falls onto the exposed skin, as Gaz flinches and whines against your pussy, but his tongue never stops working you. His breathing is heavy, hot against your sensitive skin, and the sounds of his pained moans and whimpers mix with the feeling of him teasing your nerves.

With a slow movement you turn and glance over your shoulder, watching as Ghost pours a dribble of molten wax from the candle in his gloved hand, down onto the dark canvas of Gaz’s stomach. The lurid purple of the wax stands out against the tender skin beneath, creating a beautiful image you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Every time wax lands and hardens on Gaz’s skin, his cock bounces. Ghost’s thick fingers wrap around the twitching member, pumping it slowly, not enough to give him any real release but enough to pull moans from him, vibrating against your cunt. With his other hand, Ghost pours another glob of wax, mixing the pleasure and pain.

“Eyes forward,” he growls, and you realise you’ve been caught.

Gaz pushes his tongue into you, a starved animal, lost in the sensations and only held together by Simon’s commanding voice. You drift under his spell too, pliant and nothing but a tool for him to use for Gaz’s torture and reward. It is utterly dehumanizing and deliciously freeing at the same time.

The familiar tension of an orgasm builds.

“Please… please, can I come, Sir?” You beg breathlessly, hips beginning to buck and grind.

“Ah, you remembered, good girl,” Ghost praises you, pushing you closer to the edge. He comes to stand at the head of the table to watch you writhing and panting, so close to coming undone. His arms cross over his bare chest, cock straining behind the fabric of his fly. “You have permission to come.”

You cry out almost immediately, pleasure spiking through you like a snapped band, and Gaz greedily licks up your juices, hitting your clit again and again.

“That’s enough, Sergeant,” he snaps and Gaz stops without hesitation, face glistening beneath you and eyes hazy. Your own brain feels filled with dark clouds of something wonderful, your body warm and floating in space.

“Good boy, time for you to have your reward,” Simon declares from behind his mask. He rearranges you both, and you are soon on your back under Gaz, his elbows resting either side of your head and hips between your thighs. The anticipation is electric, your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm, and the thought of his cock being inside you spurring a fresh, intense wave of arousal.

“How much do you want that pretty cunt around your cock?” Ghost whispers into Gaz’s ear loud enough for you to hear.

“So fuckin’ much, Sir,” Gaz groans in response.

Ghost reaches between your bodies, grasping his hard length.

“Not yet,” he chuckles darkly. “Show me what you want to do to her first.”

It looks like Gaz wants to argue for a moment, but thinks better of it, and begins to move his hips, fucking into Simon’s gloved fist instead. Frustrated grunts and gasps fall from his lips, and his eyes look down at you with longing. The emptiness inside of you screams to be filled and you can’t help but whimper in desperation, your own hips shifting.

“Steady, kitten,” you’re warned, and lay still again. Slowly, Ghost brings his hand closer to your body, almost aligning Gaz’s thrusts with your entrance until he opens his hand and lets Gaz suddenly fill you. He fucks you like a caged animal, fast and hard as his control snaps the moment your wet heat envelopes him. The wet reverberations of skin hitting skin bounce from the walls, mixed with your cries as your body comes alive once again. Quickly his movements stutter, warning of his impending release.

“Do not come, Sergeant,” Ghost remonstrates him as he stalks around the table. “Do. Not.”

Sweat beads and streaks down Gaz’s face as he holds back his orgasm, thighs trembling and teeth bared with enormous strain. The cords of his neck stand out in stark relief. Your own pleasure surges and builds inside you as his hard cock bullies your soaked cunt repeatedly, and your body tightens around him, sending him closer to the edge.

“Hold it, Sergeant,” Ghost growls, running the heel of his gloved hand along the other man’s spine from his neck down to the curling round of his hips. You don’t see it but Ghost caresses Gaz’s ass, squeezing the firm meat of it tenderly, before slipping a lubed digit into the furl of his hole. A deep tremor rushes through Gaz, and the air is punched from his lungs at the sudden intrusion.

“Good boy,” Ghost growls, slowly curling and uncurling his finger.

“You can both come in ten… nine… eight…“ The urge to orgasm builds like a tsunami as Simon begins to countdown, panic rushing through you that you might not be able to hold out. “Seven… six… five…” A strangled whine creeps from between Gaz’s clenched teeth, his massive frame shaking almost violently as he continues to thrust into you. He drops his forehead to yours, the movements of his hips becoming more erratic as Simon probes his ass whilst your pussy clenches around his cock.

“Four… three… two…” You vision becomes dark at the edges, you’re holding your breath and your back has arched off the table, the first cresting wave of your orgasm poised and ready to descend when that sacred syllable is uttered. The faintest tang of blood warns you that you’ve bitten into your bottom lip.

“One,” Ghost rubs his finger sharply against Gaz’s prostate and the two of you cry out as you both let go in unison. Your inner walls spasm and pulse, milking Gaz’s cock as he fills you with his release, his abdominals clenching and curling tightly into you. Liquid heaven courses through your veins, washing away all thought as you cling onto Gaz between your thighs.

“Are you okay?” Ghost asks when you finally open your eyes, and you manage to murmur an acknowledgement to him. Gaz trembles and heaves in air, fully spent, and eyes rolling as Simon eases him off of you and then onto the small sofa.

The door opens and Johnny peeks carefully around the frame, seeing Simon who nods, granting him permission to enter.

“Take care of Gaz for me,” he directs him, before turning his attentions back to you.

“Aye, Sir,” Johnny intones and moves quickly to Gaz, all thought of their earlier fight gone as he tends to his friend, talking softly and pulling him against his shoulder as Gaz comes down once more.

“How did he…?” You start to ask in confusion as Ghost helps you off the table, wrapping his arm around your waist to support you.

“There’s a call button on the weapons rack, goes to the bar and upstairs. Kind of like a panic alarm,” he explains gently. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m great, but how about Gaz?” You ask, trying to peer around Ghost’s huge body. With a chuckle he guides you over to sit beside Gaz, who is wrapped in a thick black towel and drinking something Johnny has brought with him in a sports bottle.

“Just give him a minute, hen,” Johnny says softly, rubbing gentle circles on Gaz’s arm. “Looks like Si really gave him what he needed.”

After a few minutes the light returns to Gaz’s eyes and he smiles at you wearily, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Yeah, I’m solid,” he tells you, then thanks Ghost.

“No problem, just don’t let it build up like that next time,” Ghost rumbles. “You know to ask if you need something.”

“Yeah, sorry for trying to coldcock you,” Gaz apologizes to Johnny, patting his shoulder firmly. Once the two of you are cleaned up and in a fit state, they take you both upstairs to recover for the evening. Later, Price pulls you aside to continue the interrupted conversation….

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