Jennifer Comes Out Pt. 03

Thank you for keeping on reading, this is the continuation for Jennifers night out. I hope you enjoy it.

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The smoke clung to my hair like a clingy ex, tendrils snaking out of my meticulously braided crown. My cherry red nails, perfectly matched to the fire engine red of my skirt, tapped a restless rhythm against the bar. Comfort? Nah, that was a four-letter word I'd tossed outta the window tonight. Instead, I was rockin' stilettos with points sharper than a Chicago winter, clicking a fierce "Hey-look-at-me!" with every stride. This wasn't that dive across the street; this joint oozed old-money vibes with the occasional appreciative glance at my killer legs. Women with hair smooth enough to ice skate on and enough sparklers to blind a pigeon sipped overpriced concoctions, flashing their jewels like they were going outta style. Not a bad crowd, not at all. But a yawn practically escaped my lips, brighter red than a stop sign (and just as glossy, duh). These women just weren't doing it for me.

With a sigh that could rival a bored socialite's existential crisis, I snagged the bartender's eye. This woman was a total smoke show herself, emerald green dress practically glowing in the smoky haze. Her fiery red hair cascaded down like Veronica Lake on a bender, framing eyes that seemed to see right through my facade. Serious domme vibes radiating off this one.

I leaned in, a smirk playing on my lips. "Water, doll. Long night already."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, checking out my red ensemble from head to stiletto before meeting my eyes. "Rough night for a stunner like you?" she drawled, her voice smooth like the top-shelf liquor she was pouring for a nearby dude in a rumpled suit.

"Not rough, exactly," I admitted, tapping my stilettos with my fingertips in a silent caress. "Just kinda... meh. This place is swanky, everyone seems loaded, but..." I trailed off, searching for the words that wouldn't sound like I was dissing the rich folks (hey, who wouldn't wanna be loaded?).

The bartender leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. "But what, sassy pants?"

I hesitated. Dissing the fancy drinks and swanky atmosphere felt rude. "It ain't exactly the kinda crowd that gets my pulse racing, y'know?" I finally confessed.

A slow smile spread across the bartender's face, amusement morphing into a knowing glint. "Intriguing," she murmured. "Looking for something a little more electric, perhaps? More..." she trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.

I straightened up a bit, relieved to find someone who understood. "Something with a little more... oomph," I offered, my voice gaining confidence. "A spark. Maybe even a hint of..." I searched for the right word, a playful glint in my eyes, "domination?"

The bartender's smile widened, revealing a flash of white teeth. "Ah, now we're talking," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "This place might not be your usual Barbie dreamhouse scene, but we cater to a... diverse clientele. Those who appreciate a little... control, shall we say?"

A thrill shot through me. This was more like it. "Control, huh?" I repeated, a playful glint in my eyes, remembering the cryptic message. "Speaking of control, a guy named Mike sent me. Said to tell someone named Josephine he was sending a... well, let's just say a curious lady his way."

The bartender's eyes narrowed for a fleeting moment before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "Josephine, huh? Interesting. Seems Mike knows a thing or two about what this curious lady might be curious about." Her gaze flickered down to the velvet curtain tucked away in the corner. "In that case, dollface, The Back Room might just be the place for you." The way she said "The Back Room" sent shivers down my spine, a promise of something exciting and completely unknown.

My heart thumped like a bass drum solo in my chest. Mike's weird message, Veronica the bartender with her emerald eyes seeing straight through B.S., and now this creepy velvet curtain hiding "The Back Room" -- it was all a mind trip unlike anything I'd ever done. Curiosity battled with a healthy dose of "oh crap, what did I get myself into?" but hey, I was here now.

Veronica, looking like a million bucks in emerald stilettos that clicked like stiletto assassins, towered over me. Her red hair swished like a fiery halo as she walked, and I gotta admit, the woman oozed control. We weaved through the crowd, Veronica's hand surprisingly strong on my lower back -- a friendly gesture or maybe a subtle power move?

Finally, we reached a spot that looked like a janitor's closet, hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. Veronica stopped, her eyes scanning the area like a hawk. A dumb-looking bread box stuck out on the wall, like a mismatch at a fancy dress party.

A slow smirk played on Veronica's lips as she pulled a key out of nowhere -- but this wasn't your grandma's house key. It looked more like a remote control with a bunch of buttons. Her fingers flew across it, punching in a code like she did this every other night. Beeps filled the air, each one making me jump a little.

On the last beep, the wall next to the bread box hissed open like a secret door in a spy movie. A deep bass line thumped out from the other side, shaking the floor and vibrating right through me. It wasn't music, it was a primal beat that promised something wild, something exciting, something that might wake up desires I didn't even know I had.

Veronica turned to me, one eyebrow raised in a question. "Ready to see what Mike sent you into, dollface?" she purred, her voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine (in a good way, though).

The weight of the decision hit me like a ton of bricks. This was it, the point of no return. But the mystery of what was behind that door, the whisper that it could change everything was too much to resist. A slow smile spread across her face, matchin' Veronica's. The single word she said spoke volumes, a thousand unspoken desires packed into it.

"Let's do this," I breathed, my voice laced with excitement and a hint of defiance. The door to The Back Room hung open, a gateway to a world I couldn't even imagine.

I slipped through the doorway, Veronica's emerald eyes and husky goodbye still buzzing in my head. The bass thumped harder now, vibrated in my chest like a second heartbeat. Gone was the smoky haze, replaced by a scene straight out of an architect's wet dream -- polished concrete floors gleaming under harsh spotlights. This wasn't some dungeon basement, this was a freakin' underground playground for rich freaks.

The room stretched out like a football field, bigger than the entire bar upstairs. Exposed brick walls screamed history, but the rest was pure modern luxury. Red velvet ropes like fancy crime scene tape sectioned off different areas, each a peek into a different kinda fantasy. A curtained-off corner glowed red, promising something spicy like a bad chili pepper. A cage in the corner, all chrome and surprisingly spacious, housed a bored-looking Doberman who could probably out-muscle me. Steel beams overhead held chains and something that looked suspiciously like a fuzzy swing.

I whistled, a low sound of surprise escaping my lips. This place was like a twisted episode of my fave Netflix show, and I was the only contestant. A thrill shot through me, a mix of butterflies and excitement that made my palms clammy. No bouncer, no welcome wagon, nothin'. Just me, the thumpin' music, and a whole lotta kinky options.

"Alright, Jennifer," I muttered to myself, tuckin' a stray hair behind my ear. "Time to see what this curious lady is curious about." I straightened my crimson skirt, the click of my stilettos echoing in the vast space. Taking a deep breath, I started walking, ready to explore the forbidden playground that was The Back Room.

I stepped through the doorway, the deep bass music a physical presence now, pounding in my chest. Gone was the smoky haze, replaced by a stark, industrial playground for the kink elite. Polished concrete gleamed under strategically placed spotlights, revealing a space that defied expectations.

This wasn't some dark, dank dungeon from the movies. Exposed brick walls hinted at history, but the rest screamed modern luxury. Plush red velvet ropes sectioned off distinct "scenes," each a glimpse into a different kind of kink. A curtained alcove pulsed with a crimson glow, promising something intense. A nearby cage, gleaming chrome and surprisingly spacious, held a muscular Dom in black leather pants, his back adorned with intricate tattoos, giving commands to a kneeling figure in a submissive mask.

The air was electric with a raw, horny energy that shocked the hell out of me but also turned me on. The crowd was a mix of man and women, all dressed to fuck. A woman in a see-through red dress, her back decorated with chains, walked by with a smug grin on her face. A couple, both sweaty and toned, was banging in public, the guy growling like a beast, the woman moaning like a slut. Nearby, a group of people in leather and latex were tied up and blindfolded, getting their kink on.

Everywhere I looked, I saw people fucking, sucking, and getting their kink on. Some scenes were straight-up sex - a woman getting pounded while sucking another guy's cock.Others were more about control - a sub tied up and helpless, their every breath dependent on their Dom's command.

My stomach twisted with a mix of nerves and envy. This was the world I'd only read in Literotica, a world that scared the hell out of me but also turned me on. I took a deep breath and started walking, my red skirt swishing around my legs, the click of my stilettos drowned out by the sounds of sex and submission. I was here, in the heart of The Back Room, and the only question was, where would my curiosity (and maybe a hint of fear) take me?

One woman commanded my attention, clad in nothing but heels, a collar, and a sultry gaze that screamed confidence. Her body moved with a sensual grace that left me breathless. I envied her, wishing I could own my nakedness like she did. "If only I could look that fucking hot without clothes," I thought, my eyes fixed on her.

Then, a couple appeared, their toned bodies entwined in playful laughter. The woman was stunning, but it was the man who made my mouth water. His chiseled physique, tousled brown hair, and mischievous grin had me drooling. His harness showcased impressive piercings, making me wonder what other secrets he hid. I couldn't help but stare, my eyes devouring every inch of him.

"Hey, lost one," the woman purred, eyeing my red outfit with a knowing glint. "Like what you see?" Her voice was husky, but I barely heard it, too busy fantasizing about the man's body.

"It's, uh, fucking intense," I admitted, trying to keep my cool like this wasn't my first time in an upscale sex dungeun.

The man chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his chest. "We can show you intense, little one," he offered, his hand reaching out to brush a stray curl from my cheek. The touch sent a jolt through me, both thrilling and a little alarming. I felt his fingers grazed my skin expanding all over my body.

I wasn't sure what to say. A threesome wasn't exactly what I had in mind for my first foray into the wild. But before I could stammer a polite doubt, the woman took her on her own to answer.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," her voice was perfect. "We won't bite... unless you want us to."

Then, before I could react further, the couple laughed again, a shared sound that seemed to echo off the exposed brick walls. In a flash. The man grabbed my hand, his grip surprisingly firm, while the woman snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me close. I felt trapped, but in a good way.

"Just kidding, doll," the woman winked, her voice laced with amusement. "We wouldn't dream of pressuring a newbie. But hey, if you ever change your mind..."

Here's the rewritten chunk in first person and with the right tone:

They steered me past their scene, their laughter faded into the pulsing music. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I took a deep breath. That was a close call. I wasn't ready to jump into the deep end just yet, but the encounter left a delicious tingle of anticipation in its wake. The Back Room was full of possibilities, and I, with a newfound sense of resolve, continued my exploration, eager to see what other scenes awaited me.

I found myself drawn to an extremely beautiful woman, the Mistress, who wore a sleek black leather corset that cinched her waist and pushed her breasts up, showcasing her big beautiful cleavage and prominent nipples straining against the leather. The corset's boning and straps emphasized her hourglass figure, and the leather pants she wore were so tight they seemed painted on. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, and her piercing green eyes seemed to command attention. At her feet knelt the submissive, dressed in a sheer white lingerie set that was almost transparent, complete with a tiny thong that barely covered her shaved pussy and a push-up bra that showcased her large, round breasts with erect nipples. The submissive's wrists were bound by delicate silver cuffs, and a matching collar adorned her neck, with a small silver tag bearing the word "Pet".

"Time for you to meet your new owners, little one," the Mistress said, her voice husky.

The submissive whimpered, "O-owner? But I thought... I mean, I wanted to be with you."

The Mistress chuckled, "And you will, my pet. But tonight, you're going to be shared. Your new owners have been watching you, admiring your obedience and beauty. They want a piece of you."

I felt shivers as the submissive sobbed, "No, please... I don't want to be shared."

The Mistress growled, "Too bad, baby. You don't get a say in this. Your sole purpose tonight is to please your new owners, to be their plaything, their toy. Do you understand?"

The submissive whimpered, "Yes, Mistress."

Watching the Mistress work her magic, I felt a twisted thrill coursing through my veins like a hard drug. This was it -- the real deal. Pain, humiliation, and submission, all wrapped up in a neat little package. I'd jerked off to this shit for years, and now it was right in front of me, making my clit hard. The submissive's whimpers and tears only made me hornier, my clit throbbing beneath my clothes.

I wondered if I had what it took to be in her shoes, to be the Mistress's plaything. Could I handle the pain, the degradation? The thought of being completely at someone else's mercy made my clit ache like a raw nerve. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad. I wanted to be broken, to be remade in the Mistress's image, to be her little slut.

But could I take it? That was the question. I thought about my own limits, my own fears. Could I handle being flogged, being fucked, being utterly humiliated? The thought sent a flash of electricity to my tucked clit, making me shudder. I wasn't sure, but I was willing to find out, to push myself to the edge and see how far I'd fall.

The Back Room seemed to pulse with energy, urging me to take the leap, to surrender to my darkest desires. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into the abyss, and I was so tempted to jump, to let go and free-fall into the unknown.

The story continues on the next chapter. I can't wait toread your comments ;)