Note from the Author
This story contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. All sexual encounters in this story must be agreed between adults. If you follow R.A.C.K, risk-aware and consensual kink, all scenes of power transfer or kink elements should be taken as pre-negotiated. This story could include scenes such as rope bondage and objectification.
Chapter One: Prelude
“Umph!” The sound escaped my lips before I could stop it as the car bounced over a pothole.
My Uber driver gives me a puzzled look in the rearview mirror, “Ma’am?”
“Oh…ah…nothing. Sorry!” I mutter, cursing myself for not controlling my reactions better. Control is supposed to my strongest strength, and here I find myself losing it in the backseat of an Uber.
The driver turned his attention to the road. I let out a relief sigh and settled back into the seat. The reason for my uncontrollable outburst is my stomach shifting again. I make no noises, despite trying to reduce the pressure from the huge butt plug.
This plug is the biggest I’ve ever been able accommodate, and I am strangely proud of it. It is the culmination of weeks of hard work and a gradual increase in my tolerance for silicone to the stainless steel medical grade monster that resides within. The “T” shape was advertised as the more comfortable fit, but the way it jostled and moved every time I sit or lean on anything leaves some lingering questions as to the accuracy of that claim. It has been difficult for me to wear it throughout the day. This makes my job much more challenging and more enjoyable. The pressure overwhelms me again as I shift. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation. In the last week, I’ve been close to having an orgasm from the plug several times. It has been extremely frustrating to have to turn it off while at work.
Perhaps I can indulge myself a little bit during the time I wait to get there. The Uber driver will think that I am resting my eyes, as I lean back against the backseat.
I feel the pressure build up and start to shiver. As I move my hips forward, my toes curl and my toes curl. As I rock back and forth, I bite my lips. The motion shifts my plug and causes heat to build up in my core. As the familiar ache starts to grow, the wetness builds. Before I can feel the relief I crave, the car slows to a halt.
Looking up, the Uber driver stares at me through my rearview mirror. I am captivated by his lust. I try to think about other things to distract me, but the fullness is too overwhelming to ignore. As I continue to rock my hips, the pressure is finally rising, I keep my eyes on him. With just a few tweaks to my nipple, I can reach the climax. It is intoxicating to feel the pleasure of the pressure in my sex, as well as the days of edging without allowing my own release, and the taboo nature being watched by strangers.
I almost give in. I nearly give up before I even start.
The gold-rimmed invite that got me out in this Uber, to the middle and nowhere, is gone.
It should have very specific instructions.
You must be a worthy selection for an OfferingThey have to see that I am in control. It took me many years to even be invited for an evaluation.
I take a deep breath and then focus on my goal with a focused gaze.
Obeying can open up doors to experiences beyond my wildest imaginations and fantasies. A quick fuck in an Uber wouldn’t even come close.
I look out at my destination as I walk through the night. As I walk under the thick, old trees above my head, my heels click onto the driveway. As I travel deeper into the property, I become acutely aware how muffled the sounds of the city are. As I turn the last bend in the driveway, the Victorian house slowly comes into view. The house was not like the wild, untended fence of trees that surrounded the area, but it was a testament to the meticulous attention and care given to every detail.
The grass dominates the landscape, with only a fountain and a gazebo breaking it up.
I take a deep breath, then pull out the masquerade face mask from my bag and place it on. Nervously, I approach the steps leading to the front door.
The front door has a maroon handle and a gold handle.
It’s a strange detail to focus on, but I shiver in the dark and stare at it, transfixed and frozen in indecision.
On one hand, it’s an ordinary door. Doors are used a hundred times per day. Just like this door. There’s nothing to fear from an ordinary door.
But, there is more to the door than meets the eye.
Something forbidden–maybe even taboo.
It was something I have long yearned after and sought for for many months.
This is what I’ve longed for and trained for ever since Sir told me.
My body feels like an electric current buzzing in anticipation, buzzing and cresting in small waves at unexpected places. My mind screams at me to use caution and think things through but that little voice–that hedonistic little devil that lives in all of us, shouts me down.
“Go through the door and live a little.”
I take a deep, exhaling breath and straighten out my face.
The little devil is correct.
It’s time to live.
I raise my hand and knock confidently on the ordinary door, as ready as I’ll ever be for something extraordinary. The door opens and I walk across it, feeling the buzzing in my skin intensify to crescendo.
The door attendant doesn’t say a word and his silence is unnerving. He accepts my invitation and looks at it before moving on to the alcove behind him. Offerings.
I nod, and he shrugs. He stamps my invitation as if it was a passport. The border guard looks at me before turning to me and inviting me to follow him.
I am led through the darkened corridor by him and into a waiting space full of women dressed in similar masks or hoods. I sit down on an empty seat, and then look up at my escort. He is already gone, walking back down the hall with a quick step of efficiency.
It is cold in the room and I am frightened by my sheer dress.
My instructions were clear: black satin, sheer robe and red heels. Eager to please, I followed them to a tee–determined that no matter what, I would be chosen.
A small, black-clad woman comes out of the door, her cat-eye glasses giving her a serious look. A rubber-clad Headmistress.
“You, you, you, and you!” she barks out orders and the women she points at immediately rise and line up. As she moves through the room my heart starts beating wildly. How grateful I Not required this.
“My my, aren’t you the eager one?” She looks at me with speculation and a touch of derision in her eyes. “Very well, you too. Get up.”
I feel the euphoria as I get up and start to tremble so that I can stand with the other women. We are the Chosen Ones. With any luck, we will be the Offering for this evening’s entertainment.
Two more are selected before she abruptly turns toward the door and motions us to line-up. “You will all be known by a number tonight and you will answer it.” She counted us off and I smiled as she pointed at me.
Five. Five is my new name.
We, the little ducklings, follow our mama duck in the dark corridor.
At the end of the corridor is another door. This one is a deep crimson-red. Our leader does not turn to face us, but snaps her fingers. We all instinctively shrink towards the wall.
“One at a time, you will enter. If you are considered worthy, you will receive preparations and presentations. If you are not….” her voice trails off, as if the alternative was too terrible to even say outside.
My nerves race like fire and the excitement of anticipation makes my heart beat faster.
Too soon, she points at me again and I make my way slowly down the hallway and through the door, cringing as it slams shut behind me–leaving me in pitch darkness.
The games start now.
I can’t wait.
A single candle is lit. The flickering light creates shadows that dance across the walls. I can’t see much but I can sense that at least one person is in the room with me.
“Stand where you are and put your hands on your head and your legs wide apart, Five.”
A gruff voice in the room shouts at me, and I immediately comply, eager to let them know how much I want this.
“Tell me, Five. Are you already trained or do you require… breaking in?” The voice is closer now. I shiver once more.
“I am trained in some arts, Sir, but am ready to learn more.”
“Show me how you present yourself to your betters, Five.”
I think back to my training and fall to my knees. The slight pain that I felt as I hit the concrete floor was a distraction. My head lowered, I place my hands on my lap with my palms open. I declare to him that I am willing to submit.
I feel the air movement around me and can see him circling around me, the predator assessing his prey.
“Arch your back more and push out your tits,” he growled softly, the absolute authority like steel in his voice. “Point your toes and put your feet together so you can sit on them.”
I respond quickly to his commands and feel his hot breath on my neck. “You move fast, Five. So eager to be objectified as an Offering, are you?”
I feel more terrified by the danger of his voice and my desire to be an Offering makes me even more anxious. I have long longed for the opportunity to be an Offering. I cannot contain my desire now that it is within reach.
With a deep breath, I whisper out a meek, “If it pleases you, sir,” and continue to crouch in my submissive posture, the pleasurable pressure of the butt plug challenging me to keep quiet.
“Do you understand what will be asked of you, if you are chosen as an Offering, Five?” His breath on my neck makes me shiver again, my arousal growing more potent.
“You will become ours to use as we see fit. Your free will will be forfeited and your pleasure will be ours. You can have your pleasure or not. We only ask for it. Do you know what Five is asking you to give? Nothing is off limits.”
“Yes sir. “Yes sir. I do so in full awareness of what it means and I consent.” My breath came in pants as I felt the intensity of the room rise up again and the cold harsh reality of what I am saying, what I am agreeing to begins to sink in.
Being an Offer is not a casual sport. My Sir, the one who taught me, often spoke of these meetings. The world’s most powerful players, The Collective, allow the top performers to compete for the title of Offering. A submissive may gain social standing, material wealth, and membership to a highly elite club in return for being an Offering. It was our strange little community’s version of the submissive Olympics and I was determined to not only compete, but to be the best.
“Very well, Five. You are interesting enough for me to make you one of our Offerings tonight. Follow the lights to the next room and you will get up. You will then lay down on the bed and wait until you locate it. Your shades will be drawn on to your mask so you are unable to see. I expect you to be a Good Girl, Five.”
My heart explodes with euphoria. I did it! I did it!
As I rose from the darkened room, my whole body felt alive and numb. As I opened the door, I was greeted by a four-poster bed with silken sheets and plush pillows.
It’s time to offer.
Viola Ryder is an erotica author and kinkster who loves writing intricate BDSM scenes and falling in lust with her characters….and their demons. Enthusiastic consent and delightful debauchery make her smile. Her published works are available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.