The Perfect Storm

A BDSM Story by Harley Grant

Episode One

The clouds were boiling up to a major storm as he squatted in the tall grass thirty yards from the house.  It looked safe, most of the blinds were shut and there was no one looking out the windows that were not shaded.  It was late evening and very dark.

Slowly he rose and walked toward the house, staying close to the hedge the bounded the large back yard and shielded the house from the street.  If there was no lighting strike, he should be able to get next to the house without detection.

He could have paid and come in the front entrance.  He’d done that, more than once, and received value for his money, more than value.  But they never accepted that he had a special connection to those in the house.  Of course, he understood they had to be wary: too many fakes and even police plants.  He knew they’d not seen what was in his heart. 

He got about ten yards from the house.  No point in being coy now, he was too close to pass undetected if someone looked out.  So he stood up and trotted the remaining distance to the house, stopping when he could flatten himself against the wall next to the hedge.  The yard was narrow here, just a few feet on that side between the house and the hedge.  Impossible to detect.

He knelt down next to the basement window.  He let his breathing come back to normal, now was the time for being quiet.  He tried the window, and it was still unlocked.  He slid it up.  He’d fixed it on his last time here so that it would look locked from the inside, but the lock didn’t engage.  Just in case someone really looked. 

He slowly opened the window, silent on the tracks he’d greased.  He listened carefully, as he could see little into the dark interior.  Nothing.  He slowly, carefully, slid himself through the window, feet first.  His foot found the table below the window, and he dropped into the house.

Stop, listen, nothing, good.  He eased the window back shut and slowly, one leg at a time, dropped to the floor.  The room was unused storage, full of trunks and boxes.  Why they’d never used it for a real dungeon or jail, he never knew, but he was thankful for their omission. 

Over at one edge, was where he’d put his hideaway.  A tall cabinet reached almost to the ceiling, and the boxes on top of it did touch the ceiling.  But it was a fake.  He reached up, and pulled away the end panel, disguised to look like the end of a box.  It revealed a square hole running the length of the tall cabinet.

He climbed up on the boxes he’d placed near at hand, and boosted himself into the opening.  Once inside, he stretched around and fitted the end panel back in place, pulling a loop of twine over a strategically placed nail to guard against accidental falling.

He was on top of the tall cabinet, inside an enclosed space.  Perhaps 8 feet long, it was walled by the fake boxes on one side, the basement wall on the other side and the ceiling of the basement on top.  No one could tell he was in there, unless he made noise.

He wormed forward.  There wasn’t enough room to sit up, but he had enough room to bend a bit.  Slowly, careful not to hit anything, he started to undress.  He folded his clothes and pushed them beyond his feet back to the entrance of his dark cave.  It was pitch black, no light at all wafted in. 

He always began by getting naked.  He felt it only the honorable thing to do, as slave were always kept naked.  He shouldn’t presume any favors by keeping clothes on.  And he felt he was protecting the house by this as well, in some weird way.  To be caught as a prowler was one thing, to be caught naked as a prowler would totally discredit him and provide him no excuse or evasion.  That was appropriate too, he thought.  He was assuming a privilege by doing this, some part of him knew, only fair that he up the risk for himself.

The far end of his cave was directly under a heading duct that led into the waiting room the ladies used while they passed the time between sessions.  He had brought a small bag with him and in the dark he extracted a pair of sensitive headphones and a listening device.  He attached the device to the heating duct and placed the headphones to one side after briefly checking that they were working.

Also in his back was two lengths of rope and a pair of handcuffs, wrapped in a cloth to muffle the noise.  Fishing out the ropes, he used one to tie up his ankles and another to tie up his knees.  The handcuffs went around his hands and were locked and double locked with the key.  Then, despite being in total darkness, he’d brought a blindfold.  No logical reason, but the rituals had to be obeyed for the power to be there.  So that went over his already unseeing eyes.  The headphones went on his head, and he lay down on his back.

He was now at peace.  In his ears he heard the chatter of the girls as they waited.  It was so erotic, this listening in to the ladies.  They chatted about shoes, about sessions, boyfriend troubles, girlfriend troubles, laughed. 

He drifted away into space.  Nude, bound, totally compromised, and listening to the conversation of goddesses.  He knew that if he was detected no one would have any sympathy.  He’d be denounced as a pervert – even by the girls, who supposedly accepted all perversions with understanding.  He’d go to jail, he assumed.  But, could anyone understand the bliss he felt, listening to them talk about everything?  For he felt so connected to them, part of their cozy family.

He’d never use this opening to their world to harm them.  He’d never told anyone else that he’d done this and never would.  He’d never tell anyone what he heard, these were confidences equal to the most closely guarded classified documents. 

Outside the storm had hit, torrents of rain, loud crashing thunder that he could hear even in his basement hideaway with the headphones on.

He began to use his cuffed hands to stimulate himself.  His fantasy was always the same: he was in that kitchen with the girls.  He knew they had a little table at one end.  He always imagined himself secured under the table, the cold floor against his skin.  He imagined their legs rocking back and forth, dangling a shoe of the end of their foot.  One was probably doing their toenails. 

In his fantasy, they knew he was under the table, but they ignored him and went on talking.  He wanted to imagine more: that they let his tongue between their legs so he could give them pleasure.  But he knew they didn’t allow that here, or at least, he’d never been allowed.  So he couldn’t even fantasize it, as if even to break their rules in his imagination was to disrespect them.

A particularly loud thunder crash hit and made him jump.  That was close.

He’d not been allowed in the kitchen, but he had done sessions here.  Each time as he worked his way through the women and the rooms, he’d placed a tiny, wireless mike in the room.  These were also hooked into his headphones and he could hear several sessions going on throughout the house.  It took a while, but he could gradually sort out all he was hearing and it gave him the most amazing sense of being connected to the entire group, it was like they were part of a single mind, all sharing everything. 

A bright stoke of lightening came, bright and close enough for him to sense it beneath his blindfold.  Immediately there was a tremendous crash of thunder.  That must have been right on top of the house!  The air was thick and the top of the cabinet beneath him seemed to weave up and down.

In his mind he saw all the girls in the house.  One by one they all turned to him.  Kathy upstairs paused in her whipping and looked right at him.  Mary, oh naughty Mary who was accepting an illegal sexual act from a rich businessman looked up and saw him.  Sandy on the first floor, who had her legs around the neck of a client, wrestling him to submission saw him. So did Nancy who was using the bathroom to clean up after a golden shower and Veronica who was flogging the feet of a man she had hogtied. 

In the kitchen, the shift manager, Linda and Kelly the new girl bent over, looked right through the floor and saw him.  All the girls turned to Linda.  Well, she was shift manager, it would be her job to talk to him. 

He looked through the blindfold, through the floor into her eyes and it was as it has been from the dawn of time when a man looks into the bottomless pools that a woman’s eyes become when a man really looks.  She looked into his mind and saw him: pathetic looser to the world, but in the reality no one ever sees: a man with dreams and respect to offer to the goddess.

She stood up, a queen arising from her throne to pronounce judgment.  “Take off the rope, and the blindfold and come here.”

He started to comply, he’d been exposed, but then, why did he feel so wonderful?  The rope removed, he opened the door to his cave and crawled out.  Standing in the middle of the room, it was still black, but he saw everything as if the instant of the lightning stroke had never ended.

His hands at his waist, he found the stairway and walked up to the main floor.  He walked calmly out into the main rooms of the house.  From all over the house, women and clients were parading, in costume and nude to the living room.  Not a word was exchanged until he came face to face with Linda.  She was a proud lioness, head high, shoulders back.

“You saw me.” He said.

“We all saw each other,” she replied and gestured to the living room.

There they gathered, a half dozen women, a few nude men.  One held a whip, that was the one being flogged.  He had his handcuffs. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?”  one woman said to him, not unkindly.  “Oh, I know, you couldn’t.  So sad, we’d have all loved to have you under that table.”

Another man stirred.  “And you,” another woman said, “if we’d only known you wanted that group golden shower scene, we’d have done it.”

“And you,” a third woman said, “I would have loved to fuck you, but of course, with the law the way it is, you understand.”

“But now,” said Linda, “we know.  We know each other, we’ve seen to the bottom of each other.”  She paused.  “Now, there are no limits any more.  But with that freedom, must come a purpose as lofty as the freedom.”  She spread her hands wide.

One of the woman jumped up and began tearing off her clothes.  She’d gone first, but we’d all asked her too in our minds for we’d known we needed a spark and that she would be the appropriate one to make the spark.

Soon, we were all naked and rolling around in a group on the floor.  Some were fucking, some were being wrestled, one was being spanked.  And me?  Oh, precious Mary spread her legs and I knew it was for me and I crawled over the bodies of several people to plant my tongue to give worship to a woman in the finest way a man can.

We were good and into it when there was a second flash of lightening and immediate crash of thunder to tear the air again.  And it did, we all looked up and at each other as the air shimmered and waved.  Ripples went through the room and voices changed up and down in pitch.  Out from the exact center of our ball of flesh a blue tear began and blew through us like a wave, draining me, and yet exalting me.  I saw them all again, only deeper.  I saw all their grief and loss, the broken families, the lost sisters, the bitter brothers.  I saw twelve lives of tears and it was overwhelming, except for the knowledge that they all accepted my life of tears as well.

The ripples receded and we knew we’d gone through a second door.  What was next we looked at each other.

The door bell rang. 

Veronica in nude splendor went to open it.  A middle aged women entered.  We knew she was a librarian, don’t ask us how we knew, but our senses were a thousand times sharper than before and we understood signs we never consciously saw.

She walked in, placed her neat little bag down on the floor.  She was tall, hair pulled back in a bun, nice clothes, sensible shoes.  Pretty, not sexy.  Nice, not stunning.  She took off her sweater and placed it neatly on the couch.  Prim, but not a prude.  Calm, but could laugh.  So of course, her words were said with complete assurance and we believed them all.

“You have to change the world now, and I am here to organize you.”