2 comments/ 21854 views/ 3 favorites Xanadu Stories Ch. 01 By: trobson808 "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Xanadu may not be the 'Stately Pleasure Dome' of Kubla Khan's poetic decree but it is probably the best members-only sex club in the world. It is dedicated to the erotic pleasure of its clientele who are universally rich, often beautiful and who share a taste for the erotic and the sexually adventurous. This is what brings them to one of Central London's most up-market areas, through the discrete doors and into the well appointed surroundings in which the club has its home. The staff of the Xanadu, both male and female, are recruited for their combination of youth, good looks, discretion, customer service and sexual prowess. They are the best of the best. The club eschews the dangerous and the illegal but within those boundaries fosters the free expression of the sexual urge, in all its many and varied forms. These are the stories from the Xanadu... ---------------- The Xanadu is famed for its themed parties. They are, for many members the highlight of the club's activities. For three people at least - the Halloween party last year provided a night to remember. Chapter One - Kate's Story I shivered slightly as I stepped through the ornate doorway to the main salon of the Xanadu on that chilly October evening. I had already handed the keys of the Merc to the concierge and paid a visit to the ladies so the tingle I felt was one of anticipation rather than the effect of the few seconds of cold in leaving the car for the club. My expectations for the night were very high - the fantasy parties hosted by the Xanadu are, for many members, the highlight of the club's services. They are always well attended; brilliantly organised and generally a good time is had by staff and members alike. I've been a member of the Xanadu for a few years now so I 've been to several parties before but the annual Halloween bash is renowned among the members as being something special so I was looking forward to something special. Here I am though, getting a bit ahead of my story. Let me start by telling you a little about myself. I'm fairly typical of the members of the Xanadu; affluent, self-reliant and interested in having a good time without strings. I am too busy and having too much fun to be bothered with a serious relationship so the Xanadu suits me perfectly. To be honest I get a real buzz from the knowledge that my membership here is a secret from almost all of the people who know me in my 'normal' life. As far as age goes I'm in my late twenties. I'm slim and well groomed with a good figure - the result of a good diet and regular sessions in the gym. I don't count myself in the drop-dead- gorgeous bracket but I can still turn heads when I want to. I first discovered the Xanadu through an ex-boyfriend. Adam and I had been going out for a few months (or mainly "staying-in" as my father was fond of saying in that slightly disapproving way of his). The relationship was good, while it lasted, especially physically. Adam was older than me literally and emotionally and he was an imaginative and unselfish lover. I didn't know at the time that he was a member of the Xanadu. I was only dimly aware of the existence of such places in fact. My introduction to the club was the result of Adam's proposal that we should go to one of its parties. The suggestion came out of the blue but in a quite matter-of-fact way. I remember the theme vividly; it was a roman orgy. I was pretty reluctant to go at first but he somehow persuaded me and after a shaky start and a glass or two of wine I loosened up to the point at which Adam and I joined in the group sex sessions that developed as the evening progressed. On that occasion I only had sex with Adam, and he with me, but over the weeks I met and grew to like some of the regulars and as my confidence grew, so did my sexual appetite and I became more adventurous. Eventually, Adam and I parted; it was all very amicable and we're still friends. When he's in town we meet and sometimes we'll even end up in bed together, but its more for old-time's sake than anything else. Anyway, I ended up as a fully paid-up member of the Xanadu and I have made pretty frequent use of its facilities ever since. One of the things I love about the Xanadu is that it is possible to arrive here unaccompanied without the slightest feeling of discomfort, and I frequently do arrive alone. There will often be people here that I already know and, if not, the staff at the club will make sure I'm well looked after. The night of the Halloween party, as it happens, was one of the times that I chose to come on my own. I had, of course, taken care to dress the part and my attire was in perfect keeping with the theme of "gothic and horror". The Xanadu is careful to provide its members with guidance on dress and some idea of what to expect for the themed parties but there are always some surprises in store, which all adds to the thrill; but, more of that later. As I walked through the door into the club's outer salon the familiar atmosphere of hedonistic luxury assaulted my senses. The lighting was subdued with the high ceiling shrouded in darkness. Candles burned in wrought-iron holders illuminating the way towards the interior of the club and the rich smell of incense filled my nostrils. As my eyes adjusted to the light I saw Peter, one of the hosts in the club, approaching with a welcoming smile. Peter is probably my favourite of the boys (men really) that work here and I wondered if he had been waiting for me specifically. He's tall and athletic without being muscle-bound. He moved with an easy grace towards me as I stood on the threshold. "On your own tonight madam?" He said. "That's right Peter," I replied, grateful for his immediate attention. "Free to do as I please tonight." He smiled - his face lighting up, apparently genuinely pleased to see me. Peter has, on occasion, shown me that his athletic build is matched by a fertile imagination and gentle hands. (An unbeatable combination in my experience). "Would you like to try out the coffin?" He pointed to one of two highly polished wooden casket-style coffins, positioned on either side of the door, each on a sturdy, waist-high stand. They were located so that anyone coming through the door would have to walk past them. Intrigued, I followed his outstretched arm as he ushered me towards the right hand casket. Peter lifted the lid which rested back on large brass hinges. I had never really seen a coffin close up before - certainly not from the inside - but this was obviously a rather special model. It was rectangular in shape - and quite wide - not the traditional "coffin" shape. It was lined in pale pink silk and padded in a voluptuous style on its sides and base. What seemed a bit unusual were the three pairs of velvet lined cuffs attached to the inside of the coffin, black against the pink of the interior. The outside was made from a beautiful and highly polished wood with ornate brass-work - including an engraved brass plaque on the side which simply said "Lady". Looking over at the twin, but slightly larger casket on the other side of the carpeted entrance I saw that its equivalent said "Gentleman". "What's the idea Peter?" I asked, feeling a little puzzled but guessing that whatever it was - it was likely to be enjoyable. "Look at the lid," he said. Focusing on the inside of the coffin I had not really looked carefully at the lid which was now standing upright - held open by a polished brass stay. It was also padded and lined with the same silk material but running down the length of the lid was a black strip of elasticated velvet about nine inches wide. The strip ran almost the whole length of the coffin - right down the centre of the lid. I must have looked even more puzzled because Peter smiled and walked to the back of the coffin. "Watch this," he said and, as I looked-on, his long fingered, well manicured hand appeared through the black band of the lid and waved lightly at me. "Lightproof and more or less soundproof," he laughed gently. "You can't see out and they can't see who is in the coffin. It's all done by touch." "Who are 'they'?" I asked - with dawning realisation and the first feeling of heightened arousal in the pit of my stomach.. "Oh, just people who happen to pass. People passing-by are free to explore the person in the coffin through the lid. They will know whether the person is a man or a woman but nothing else. It can be an extraordinarily sensual experience for both people. The coffin itself is wonderfully comfortable. The base under the silk lining is made from memory foam. The feeling of silk against your skin is exquisite and you can choose to be tied or not - he gestured towards the cuffs. You won't know who is outside or where and for how long they will caress you. There will be some fleeting touches, here and gone, others may stay longer, explore you more deeply, give you pleasure in many ways. You may not even know whether the hands belong to a man or a woman. You are free to choose whether to keep on some, or all, of your clothes; whether and how you wish to be tied and I will be here to make sure that you're safe. You don't need to worry. There is a small alarm button for you to hold. If you press it, I will immediately lift the lid - it will not be locked or fastened in any way". He paused and looked me in the eyes. "Madam knows that she can trust me." He finished the sales pitch. Now I was really interested. This was like nothing I had ever experienced. In fact it was some way beyond even one of my fantasies. I thought for a moment - thinking more about the details than whether or not to try out the coffin. I had already made up my mind to give it a go. In fact the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It certainly had the potential to get the evening off to an interesting start. "OK Peter," I said, " I'm up for it," but I need a drink first. I've only just arrived. "Of course Madam," Peter smiled, his eyes showed his pleasure. "A glass of champagne will certainly enhance the experience." Peter motioned towards another member of staff who glided over in the way that good waiters seem to have. I took a glass from the proffered tray and took a rather unladylike gulp. The ice-cold liquid filled my mouth and throat with its sharp dry taste and hint of decadence. I looked at Peter over the rim of the glass as I took another, longer, drink. His gaze was steady. He's wondering, I thought, how far I'll go with this. With one more sip from the glass I decided. It had to be all, or nothing. "Come on then Peter," I said. "I'm going to be naked and bound - but you're only to let people near me that you trust and if I press the bell you get me out of there fast. Alright?" "Of course Madam, are you happy for both men and women to have access to you?" I thought for a moment, slightly hesitant, then decided. "Yes please Peter," Then another thought struck me. "I wonder whether I'll be able to tell the men from women by the way they touch me." "Other people have told me that they could tell," he said with a smile. "Shall I help you to undress?" Without waiting for an answer, Peter stepped back and with a smooth movement drew the floor length black velvet curtains that were suspended from a track running round the coffin. Within the newly created privacy of the curtained chamber Peter looked into my eyes for a few moments, perhaps seeking permission, then, without saying anything, deftly unhooked the clasp that held the black robe (what else?) at my throat and then, in one, fluid movement slid the cloak down and away from my body. No coincidence, I thought , that he made sure that the plush material of the garment brushed fleetingly over my thighs as he whisked it away. I had, of course, dressed in keeping with the Gothic theme; beneath the full-length cloak I was wearing silk, black and sheer; a front-laced bodice corset with stockings over black high heeled shoes. Peter faced me and I watched with growing arousal as he first unhooked the top of my stockings and then slowly and carefully began to unlace the corset. Starting at the top, he unthreaded the long silken lace and eased the material apart, his fingers brushing my skin as he progressively revealed my body. He was obviously in no hurry to complete my disrobing and lingered over the task, apparently enjoying the gradual, teasing exposure of my top. I watched him take pleasure in his task, sipping the remains of the champagne with growing anticipation. Eventually, having freed the last tie holding the corset together, he spread the material wide, and slipped it off my shoulders his hands sliding sensuously down my back. I was breathing faster now, aroused by the sensual touch and a little light-headed from the champagne. I looked down at my body, clad now only in the heels, black stockings and sheer black panties. I have good breasts - although I say so myself. Firm and well shaped with smallish slightly upward pointing nipples which were now hard and super-sensitive from the caress of the silk; as Peter surely intended by the way he had unlaced and removed the corset. Having carefully laid my top on the chair with the cloak, Peter knelt on the floor in front of me and hooking his fingers in the waistband of my panties, slid them down over my thighs and to the floor, allowing me to step out of them. Now I was naked apart from my stockings and heels. He looked up into my eyes - his face inches from the small patch of blonde hair that I refuse shave. Peter breathed in deeply as if to savour my sex and lifted myleft foot onto his thigh. Running his hand down my calf to my ankle he undid the small buckle that fastened the strap of my shoe and slipped it off. Then, reaching up and sliding his hands into the top of my stocking he slid the sheer silk down over my leg and off. Massaging my bare foot for a few moments he placed the foot on the floor and repeated the performance with the other leg. Now completely naked, I watched as Peter rose to his feet. He really is a very good looking man and I realised that undressing me had aroused him too, although he was trying very hard not to show it. "You are a very beautiful woman," he said, stepping back and looking me up and down with obvious appreciation. "Your body will be a source of great pleasure for you tonight and... " He paused. "I think perhaps for others too." Saying this, he reached beneath the stand on which the coffin rested and through some cantilever mechanism lowered the coffin to the floor so that I could step easily into it. This was a good thing as I had given very little thought up to that point as to how I would actually get into a coffin which was positioned at waist height. It was clearly designed to allow someone standing to gain access through the lid. I stepped into the coffin and lay on my back, keeping my legs modestly together. It was beautifully comfortable as Peter had said; carefully padded underneath in a way which aligned with the contours of my back. The padding was shaped so as to raise my buttocks fractionally - tilting my pelvis upwards and thereby (I surmised) allowing easier access to my clitoris and vagina and greater pleasure for me. "Are you comfortable Madam?" Peter asked, looking down at my naked body as it lay in the coffin. It was now obvious that he was aroused by the act of undressing me and perhaps by my apparent vulnerability. I was feeling very horny myself. My whole body was sensitive to the slightest touch. Even the slight flow of cool air over my erect nipples was exciting. "Very comfortable Peter," I said. "And very sexy. You make sure you find me someone nice". My voice was hoarse with desire. "I will do what I can Madam, " He smiled down at me. "Are you ready to be tied?" I nodded. Peter took the padded wrist strap that was attached to the side of the coffin and wrapped it round my left wrist. The cuff fastened with Velcro and was secure but comfortable. My arm was held against the silken base of coffin with my hand a few inches away from my thigh. Before doing the same with my other hand, Peter handed me a small cylinder with a button. "If you want to be freed Madam, simply press this button and I will come immediately - within a few seconds. In any case I will release you after an hour or so. You will be ready to try other pleasures and there will perhaps be other guests who would enjoy being in the coffin." I nodded, holding the 'panic button' as Peter bound my right hand to the side of the coffin. The position of my arms had the effect of stretching the skin over my breasts and stomach slightly as well as providing access to the sides of my body for willing hands; or so I hoped. With my hands now gently but securely pinioned, Peter moved on to the bonds at the knees. Lifting my right thigh from beneath, he firmly but gently opened my legs and wrapped the velvet cuff just above my knee, binding my leg to the side of the coffin. He walked round the coffin and repeated this performance with the other leg. Moving to my feet next, Peter fastened the cuffs around my ankles so that my feet were apart and fastened securely within the straps. Lifting my head I looked down at my naked body which was now displayed with all my secrets accessible. Peter looked slowly up and down my body and smiled, apparently with pleasure at his handiwork. Aching with anticipation and desire I lay back as he closed the lid - suddenly hoping that someone would come! What if I lay there for an hour with no stranger's exploration, no probing fingers or caressing touch? A sense of panic suddenly came over me, but reason prevailed, surely Peter would not allow that to happen. It was cool and quiet in the coffin - there must have been some form of ventilation inside because it must otherwise have become unbearably hot. I relaxed - enjoying the comfort and the anticipation of pleasure to come. Time passed. It was hard to keep track in the silence so I don't know how long I lay there in anticipation before I suddenly heard the slight sound of movement towards the bottom of the coffin and then felt the touch of a hand against my shin. It rested there for a moment or two - perhaps trying to determine the geography of my body. I realised suddenly that there would perhaps not even be any indication of which end of the coffin housed my head and which my feet. The hand moved slowly downwards towards my ankle - gentle and somehow slightly hesitant. A man or a woman? I had no way to tell. The hand stopped when it came to the cuff around my ankle, feeling the material as it wrapped my leg. There was a slight jerk - perhaps of surprise as the person outside realised that I was tied. Perhaps they recoiled - not everyone likes the idea of bondage - or perhaps they were aroused by it. I had no way to know except that after a second or two the hand was withdrawn leaving me slightly peeved. I would make sure I quizzed Peter about this afterwards. Before I could pursue this line of thought any further the slight rustle from the lid, this time right above my face, told me that someone else had come to try the coffin and this time the nails gave it away. Long and shapely - a woman's nails and a woman's hand, smelling very slightly of a perfume that I recognised. The hand approached gently and found my hair; running fingers through it, caressing my face and brushing my lips - getting her bearings perhaps. I found myself kissing the fingers as they brushed my lips. They paused as I gently sucked - holding one finger there. When I stopped after a second or two, the hand moved downwards tracing the curve of my chin and neck and downwards onto my chest. Now my pleasure giver used her nails to good effect, drawing them across my skin down between my breasts towards my belly and the aching womanhood below. My skin fluttered involuntarily as she first drew her nails and then her whole hand across my belly. Moving upwards, the hand cupped one breast and then the other - circling my areaolas with her fingetr tips and gently teasing my nipples between thumb and forefinger. I heard myself moan with pleasure. Arching my back slightly against the bonds, I willed the pleasure giver to carry on. Xanadu Stories Ch. 01 "Use the other hand, " I thought, "you have two hands don't you?" Then suddenly I had a ridiculous vision that the woman didn't have two hands. Perhaps she had an arm in plaster or only one upper limb. The incongruity of this thought made me laugh and although I tried hard to suppress it my body shook with a fit of the giggles. The hand was withdrawn quickly. I swore at myself inwardly, it was becoming obvious that there were ways of communicating with the pleasure givers; ways beyond words, and that to receive pleasure I must learn to use my body to reveal my desires. Over the next period - I had no real idea of the passage of time - several people came to the coffin. I got the feeling though that they were passers-by who were trying out a new experience under the watchful eye of Peter but who were intent on reaching some of the other activities provided by the party. Various explorations of my body were undertaken, none unpleasant but none living up to the promise of my perfumed nail lady and none, incidentally, straying below my belly button. The result of these unsatisfactory forays around a selection of my erogenous zones, left me in state of sexual tension and excitement that begged for release. I would probably have pleasured myself and then pressed the panic button if my hands had not been securely tied. By this time, I was learning to anticipate the intentions of my pleasure givers from their first few touches so I immediately knew that the clasp of a warm hand on my right foot was different. I flexed my toes and was rewarded with a gentle massaging movement; first one toe, then another then the sole of my foot with a kneading motion that was highly erotic. I felt the dampness between my legs increase. And then - wonder of wonders - someone with two hands and the imagination to use them. Both feet were gently massaged from toe to ankle. I lifted my feet as far as the bonds would permit allowing the hands to cup my heels and slide up my calves. This time the ankle cuffs appeared to cause no problem and my pleasure giver treated my feet and calves to a sensual massage that was clearly the work of an expert. I willed him on (or was it a her, I could not be sure), as my state of arousal mounted. The area behind my knees was next to merit special attention. This is another area that I love to be touched. The tongue is the right organ to give pleasure to this spot in my opinion, but since this was not an option, I made do with the fingers, nails and palms that were offered. My calves, knees, and thighs were caressed in long stroking movements that were like heaven. My thighs then received the focus of attention, the warm hands gliding first up the outside and then, wonderfully, caressing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. The touch was gentle at first, hardly touching my skin, gliding, just brushing the sensitive hairs on my inner thigh getting close but not yet touching the moist lips of my vagina. Somehow I knew that this was not through any reticence but a deliberate, slow moving, pleasure dance delaying the moment when I would finally experience what my body now craved. So, avoiding the core of my womanhood the hands moved upwards, stroking my belly, probing my belly button and moving up and around my sides. The lines of my inner arms and wrists were traced by the wonderful hands, moving up to my shoulders and down my sides, in a circular motion, the backs of the hands just touching my breasts as they moved - each time getting closer to the hard peaks of desire that were my nipples. Soon my breasts were receiving the attention they craved. Fingers ran in circular movements around my areolas, before teasing and rolling my nipples so that I moaned and whimpered with the sheer delight of it. Then the hands moved upwards to my face and hair and neck and shoulders and the man's (I was now sure) fingers were on my lips and I was sucking them into my mouth, licking them, trying to give pleasure in return, saying with my body, "Yes, yes, yes..." And he understood the signals. He understood what I wanted so badly. The hands, the fingers now wet with my spittle slowly moved down my torso, over my breasts and belly and, while one hand gently parted the lips of my vagina, the other found the hard nub of my clitoris and began the gentle circular teasing, stroking and rolling that would surely bring me to ecstasy. At last; at last; at last; Yes; yes, the feeling of those fingers was pure pleasure. I was SO sensitive and soaking wet down there. I was almost crying with pleasure, writhing against my bonds so that I was scared that the coffin would fall off the stand. Then - slowly, slowly - without stopping the massage of my clitoris, the fingers of the hand that held my labia open, gently entered my vagina and began circling my G spot. That was it. There was no holding back - within seconds the waves of orgasm began to wash over me, at first slowly then building up to a shattering climax which went on and on and on. The muscles of my vagina clenched around the fingers in spasm after spasm while I arched and stretched within the bonds that held me to this fountain of pleasure. My gasps and cries of ecstacy were muffled to my ears but were surely audible throughout the club. The fingers continued their dual massage in perfect time with each spasm of pleasure. Gently slowing down as my orgasm waned in intensity and I rested back against the soft silk; my body sated; my pleasure almost complete. My ultimate pleasure giver slowly withdrew his fingers and rested his hands on my body allowing me the time to find myself before finally withdrawing and leaving me in a state of satisfied bliss. As I relaxed I pondered on the experience. The bonds holding me open to this pleasure left me totally devoid of control. I could not guide the hands to the the familar places on my body that I knew from experience would give me particular pleasure; bUt the hands found them anyway and, exploring on their own, they found other centres of feeling that familiarity would bypass. These and other random musings ran through my mind as I lay back on the silken base of the coffin for a few minutes, my body gently aching but still exquisitely sensitive from the climax of minutes before. Then, when I thought I had recovered enough to stand, I pressed the button - which I had of course to find first having dropped it in my pleasure. A few seconds later the lid slowly lifted to reveal Peter. He had thoughtfully drawn the curtains and dimmed the lights so that I would have chance to get used to the brightness after being in the coffin for who knows how long. He looked down at me with that knowing smile on his handsome face, as I lay there exhausted but feeling so, so good. "Didn't I say that you'd enjoy the experience Madam?" he said as he reached out to untie the bonds that would release me to continue my evening in the Club Xanadu. Xanadu Stories Ch. 02 "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge ---------------------------- The Xanadu may not be the 'Stately Pleasure Dome' of Kubla Khan's poetic decree but it is probably the best members-only sex club in the world. It is dedicated to the erotic pleasure of its clientele who are universally rich, often beautiful and who share a taste for the erotic and the sexually adventurous. This is what brings them through the discrete doors of a building in one of Central London's most up-market areas and into the well appointed surroundings in which the club has its home. The staff of the Xanadu, both male and female, are recruited for their combination of youth, good looks, discretion, customer service and sexual prowess. They are the best of the best. The club eschews the dangerous and the illegal but within those boundaries fosters the free expression of the sexual urge, in all its many and varied forms. These are the stories from the Xanadu... ------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Note This is the second of three chapters that recount the same event from the perspective of each of the three protagonists. In the first Chapter (see Xanadu Stories Ch.01) Kate tells her story. In this chapter Peter gives his version of events. The Author humbly suggests that her readers will enjoy this chapter all the more for reading Chapter One first. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Peter's Story Hi, my name is Peter, not my real name of course. Like many staff members at the Xanadu I work under an alias, I became Peter when I started out here almost two years ago. This is a great club; well run, exceptionally discrete and with a young, well-heeled clientele. My job is pretty straightforward. Put in a nutshell, I simply have to make absolutely sure that our members have a good time when they come here. And when I say "A Good Time" I mean that in the fullest sense of the words. The club is members-only and it's not cheap by any means but, despite the high price, we have several hundred members. I make it my business to know the names of as many as possible and although I can't claim to know everyone I reckon I know more three quarters of the members by name. I tend to know more rather more about the lady members than I do about the men – but I am a full-blooded twenty-eight year old heterosexual male so I suppose it's to be expected. Our Halloween parties are always something special. The erotic element of the gothic is emphasised, as you might expect, and people really go to town on their outfits. We spend a lot of time and money getting the club looking fabulous – it's one of the highlights of our year and is very well attended. I don't know who came up with the idea of the coffins; whoever it was, I wish I had their imagination. The anonymous erotic encounter is a recurring theme of the Xanadu but the coffins raised this idea to new heights of sophistication. The basic idea is that one guest is sealed inside a purpose-built coffin which allows other people access to them through a specially arranged slot in the lid. The person on the outside knows nothing about the person on the inside, apart from what they feel with their hands. The person on the inside likewise is only able to interact through the sense of touch. The coffins are specifically designed to neutralise the other senses as far as possible. Of course, the "coffin" is perfect for the Halloween theme as well. We had been working on the idea of these things for months before the party and I have to tell you they were really something. The club had two of them specially made – one for men and one for women and they were both fabulous to look at. Made from a highly polished wood with all the brass bits and pieces, they were internally padded, air-conditioned and lined with a removable silk lining which we could replace between guests. They were actually quite a bit larger than a real coffin would be, after all they were intended to house people who were very much alive, as you will see. I suppose the bondage cuffs at ankles, knees and wrists would tend to be of little interest to the normal occupants of a coffin but our members, we thought, would appreciate them. God only knows how much these things cost to make but, however much it was, they were worth every penny. On the night of the party we had one coffin on each side of the main entrance to the club. They were surrounded by curtains so that we could be discrete about getting people in and out – the element of anonymity is a key part of the experience and we were going to encourage our guests to be at least partially naked in the coffin. Knowing our members, we were also fairly certain that even if a guest went in clothed they were unlikely to emerge in the same state. It's that sot of club! My main job for the night was to look after the ladies coffin. Judy, on the other side of the door, was in charge of the men. By the time I saw Kate walking through the door a couple of members had already tried out my coffin – neither of them for very long. The first guest was not someone I knew. She kept most of her clothes on and did not want to be tied. She lasted about twenty minutes. Judging by her state of undress when she came out most of the people who came-by must have been having fun trying to remove her witch costume. She seemed to have enjoyed herself; at least she had a smile on her face when I released her. The second guest also didn't fancy being tied down but I did manage to convince her to go more-or-less naked into the box. She didn't stay very long though, not more than about 10 minutes and I wasn't sure that she really enjoyed the experience. I had only just finished replacing the lining and getting the coffin ready for the next person when Kate walked through the door. Kate is one of my favourites among the club members. She's been coming to the club for longer than I've worked here and she has a lot going for her. She's young, very good looking and knows what she wants. She is also one of the few women who will come to the club on her own. Although most times Kate turns up as part of a group or with a man, she seems quite happy to come alone. I have watched her over the months, it's my job, of course. Kate is careful about what she does and who she does it with and, believe me, I could not say the same about all our members. On that night she was alone and she saw me as soon as she walked through the door. From her smile she seemed pleased to see me. "Perfect timing ," was what I thought. If anyone was going to enjoy the coffin it would be Kate. I smiled back and walked over to greet her, planning my 'sales campaign' as I went. Kate looked stunning. She was wearing a long black cloak, which hung almost to the ground, over a laced up silk corset; her legs were covered by sheer, black stockings and the whole ensemble was finished-off with black patent high-heeled shoes. Her hair was loose and fell to her shoulders in a cascade of pale gold. She looked fabulous and I set myself the goal to get her into coffin, naked and bound if possible. I would be lying to you if I said that I wasn't keen on the idea of helping Kate out of those clothes and strapping her into the coffin, even if I would not be the one whose hands explored the hidden secrets of that lovely body. Kate obviously noticed the coffins as she came through the door; it was pretty hard to miss them given their sumptuous proportions and prominent position and, after a bit of the usual small-talk, I pointed out the ladies casket to Kate and asked her whether she wanted to give it a try. She was clearly curious, but also a little hesitant at first. Under my gentle coaxing though she agreed to come over and, at least, take a look. As we approached the ladies coffin I began my seduction in earnest. I showed Kate the inside of the coffin with its beautiful silk lining which concealed contoured padding – shaped to offer both comfort and to align her body for maximum erotic effect. I showed her how the lid worked, how it concealed her from sight but enabled touch. I told her how her sense of touch would be enhanced when her other senses were disabled. I showed her the bondage cuffs, how they were designed to gently offer her up, to reduce her ability to control and thereby increase the intensity of her pleasure. I also made sure that she knew that she would be safe and that I would be in charge on the outside to make sure she was OK. I was at pains to point out the cleanliness and hygiene factors, the replaceable linings, air conditioning and so on. As we talked I could see that Kate was interested and a little excited. I tried hard to paint a word-picture of the erotic experience and as I talked and watched Kate's reaction I knew that she would go for it; but would she go the whole way? Despite my best efforts, I wasn't sure. My imagination was also working overtime by this stage. Describing in graphic terms to a beautiful, sexy, woman what could happen to their body at the hands of stranger while lying naked and tied-down was intensely arousing and it must have been pretty obvious to Kate that I was not an entirely dispassionate observer. After completing my guided tour of the features and delights of the coffin I was silent, waiting to see what Kate would do. As she was mulling it over, one of the other hosts came towards us with a silver tray of champagne glasses, sparkling beneath the lights and invitingly full. I beckoned discretely to him and, bless-him, he came over immediately and proffered Kate a glass. She took it and raised it to her lips. I read the speculation in her eyes as she looked at me. She took a long sip of the ice-cold liquid and obviously reached her decision. "I'll do it, " she said. "Naked and tied." My heart leaped with pleasure and excitement. I was going to make this a night to remember for Kate. I was going to make damn sure that by the time she was secured in the coffin she was fully aroused and ready for anything that might happen. Before Kate could completely finish her glass I stepped around her and drew the rich drapes that would give us the privacy I needed to prepare her and install her in the coffin. Out of courtesy I offered to help Kate undress but it was strictly a rhetorical question and I didn't give her time to reply before unhooking the gold clasp that held the cloak at her throat. I let the cloak slowly and deliberately slide over her shoulders and down across her breasts – allowing the heavy material to flow over her thighs and buttocks as I drew the cloak away from her body. She gave a small shiver – not cold I think - anticipation maybe. Turning towards me as I placed her cloak on a chair, she stood expectantly, arms by her side, lips slightly parted. She took another sip of the champagne. Her black silk bodice was laced at the front; the material, not quite meeting in the centre, revealed a tantalising glimpse of the deep shadow between her breasts. Holding her gaze, I slowly untied the small bow that held the lace in place just above her cleavage, and slowly, slowly, began to unthread it gently easing the bodice apart. I took my time, unashamedly teasing her, allowing the backs of my fingers to brush her skin as I gradually exposed her breasts and the gentle curve of her belly. As the bodice became looser I made certain the smooth material brushed subtly against her breasts and nipples. Nothing too overt, you understand, I wanted to keep her guessing. It worked too. As I reached the last loop of lace and finally spread apart the two halves of her bodice she gave a small gasp of pleasure. Her nipples jutted forward, hard with desire. She was panting slightly and a little flushed as I slipped the top off, sliding my hands over her shoulders and running them down her back. Kate has a really good body. She is slim and toned with well shaped breasts and small upturned nipples, now hard from my attentions. He skin glowed with health and she clearly took good care of herself. She stood before me now dressed only in her sheer, black, panties stockings and heels. I wasted no more time. Kneeling in front of her, with Kate looking down at me, I slipped both hands into the waistband of her panties and slowly drew them down her legs, revealing a neat triangle of golden hair and the moist lips of her pussy. I took a long deep breath, inhaling the wonderful musky scent of her. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to bury my tongue in that beautiful, pussy and simply lose myself in her but I am, after all, a professional so I resisted the temptation and concentrated on removing the rest of her clothes in as stimulating a manner as possible. Still kneeling I lifted her left foot and rested it on my thigh while I unbuckled the shoe – slipping it off and replacing her foot on my thigh. Slipping my fingers into the top of her stocking 'accidentally' allowing the back of my hand to brush the outer lips of her pussy as I did so. My reward was another whisper of pleasure and I carefully slid the stocking down her leg and over her foot my hands caressing the smooth skin of her thighs amd calves as I did so. Laying the stocking to one side – I massaged her toes and the sole of her foot briefly before repeating the performance with the other leg. Kate was now totally naked and clearly aroused, her skin flushed, her eyes slightly moist, her breasts taut with their hardened nipples standing proud. I stood up and looked her steadily in the eyes. I made some complimentary remarks, all true, and led Kate over to where the open coffin stood, opulent and impressive on its waist-high stand. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I had not told Kate about the mechanism that allowed me to raise and lower the coffin and, judging by the look of surprise on her face as I reached under the stand and pressed the button that lowered it soundlessly to the floor, she had not, so far, given much thought to the problem of how she was to get into a coffin on a waist high stand. She looked at me and smiled as she stepped in to the coffin which was now at floor level. Carefully, and in a very ladylike manner, Kate lay down on her back in the plush surroundings of the coffin and I raised it to a comfortable height. There she was, a beautiful naked woman, looking up at me, excited, aroused, but a little apprehensive. I checked to make sure she was alright before beginning the task of tying her. She was. I began with her wrists. The wrist cuffs were positioned to hold her arms slightly away from her body with the arms more or less straight. They were set towards the bottom of the coffin which had the effect of stretching the skin over her breasts and flattening her stomach. I started with the left wrist, wrapping it in the padded cuff. Not too tight but without any chance of escape. Velcro is a wonderful invention, what would we do without it? Moving round the coffin I gave Kate the panic button and made sure she knew how to use it before fastening the second wrist cuff. Having made sure that her wrists were secure, I moved down to the knee bonds. These are designed to hold the legs just above the knees. They are fastened to the sides of the coffin so as to hold her legs apart – not so wide as to be uncomfortable but wide enough to allow free access to her inner thighs and the delights of her pussy. Placing my hand under her right knee – I eased her legs apart and secured the cuff. After repeating the performance with her left leg I allowed by eyes to roam over her body, feasting on the sight of her nakedness. She was already securely tied, the ale pink lips of her inner labia peeping out from the moist slit between her legs. I moved down to her feet. The last two bonds were designed to go round the ankles, fastening her feet to the sides of the coffin, spreading her legs slightly wider apart. Lifting each foot in turn I fastened the cuff around her ankles, completing the bondage process. Now she was ready, comfortable but arrayed for maximum pleasure. I lingered before closing the lid, watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed deeply. I desperately wanted it to be my fingers that parted those soft, moist lips to find the pleasure bud beneath. I imagined the warm softness of her as my fingers opened her up to pleasure. I sighed. Tonight it would be another's privilege. With a final check that she was happy, I closed the coffin lid and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to quell my unexpected desire. It took me several minutes to cool down but, recovering myself, I determined to be as good as my word and, parting the curtains, I set out to find someone who would give Kate a night to remember. Tonight I would have to content myself with my imagination as another's hands explored the hidden secrets of the woman whose body I had prepared so carefully for their touch. Xanadu Stories Ch. 03 "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree : Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Xanadu may not be the 'Stately Pleasure Dome' of Kubla Khan's poetic decree but it is probably the best members-only sex club in the world. It is dedicated to the erotic pleasure of its clientele who are universally rich, often beautiful and who share a taste for the erotic and the sexually adventurous. This is what brings them through the discrete doors of a building in one of Central London's most up-market areas into the well appointed surroundings where the club has its home. The staff of the Xanadu, both male and female, are recruited for their combination of youth, good looks, discretion, customer service and sexual prowess. They are the best of the best. The club eschews the dangerous and the illegal but within those boundaries fosters the free expression of the sexual urge, in all its many and varied forms. These are the stories from the Xanadu... -------------------------------------------------- Author's Note This is the third of three chapters that recount the same event from the perspective of each of the three main characters. In the first chapter -'Xanadu Stories CH. 01' - Kate tells her story. In the second ' Xanadu Stories Ch. 02' we hear Peter's take on events. In this chapter, Jamie gets his turn. The Author humbly suggests that her readers will enjoy this chapter all the more for reading chapters one and two first. The author would very much welcome constructive feedback on this, and her other stories. --------------------------------------------- Jamie's Story Four of us went to the club for the Halloween bash that night. I recall it being quite cold outside and we were laughing at some remark about global warming as we came through the door. Chris and Rachel were arm-in-arm, clearly looking forward to having some fun. We'd had a couple of drinks before we left home so we were 'in the mood' alright. In fact we'd pretty much had to prise Chris and Rachel apart to get them to come at all. We were all regulars at the club. Sarah and I were not in any sort of permanent relationship but I liked her a lot. She's the sort of girl who just makes you feel good when she's around. We had a pact (still have, in fact) that we will not have sex with each other. I can't remember how it all came about but I found myself agreeing one night that our friendship was wonderful and would be better without the 'Complications of Sex', as she so eloquently put it; a stupid idea in retrospect. We were both a bit drunk and actually should have ended up screwing the living daylights out of each other. If I'm honest, when she looks like she did that night I'd be quite happy to sacrifice a little bit of our friendship for the opportunity to get my hands on her amazing body but, so far, no luck. Anyway – we were absorbed in the joke and each other so at first I didn't notice the two coffins close to the entrance of the club, one on either side of the door. They were very similar in appearance, made out of mahogany or some other exotic timber and beautifully finished – polished to a brilliant shine. Both coffins were resting on black draped stands, about waist height off the floor. Peter Jarvis, one of the hosts from the club was standing by the right hand coffin and one of the hostesses – someone I didn't recognise - was talking to an elegant couple dressed as vampires – pointing out something by the left hand casket. Peter has been at the club for about a year and, as I'm a regular, I know him reasonably well. He's a good bloke and seems pretty competent at his job. Occasionally I've seen him 'erving' a guest and there didn't seem to be any complaints. He was looking rather thoughtful but seemed to perk up a little when he saw us arriving. "Good evening Ladies. Good Evening Gentlemen. How nice to see you, Welcome," was his initial greeting. After the usual exchange of pleasantries were over, Peter took my arm and said, softly "I have an experience that you may enjoy Sir, if you are willing to try something. Can your friends manage without you for a few minutes?" I was a little surprised at first. This was not the usual way that the evening started at the club. But I'm always up for a new experience so I told the others that I would meet them in the bar and they went off reasonably happily. Peter led me over to his coffin and I noticed two things; a brass plate on the side which simply said 'Lady' and a long strip of some kind of black material running down the centre of the lid. Looking over I saw the word 'Gentleman' on the other coffin. The elegant couple were now bent over the coffin, absorbed in something and laughing but I couldn't quite make out what they were doing. "What's this about then?" I asked Peter, puzzled. Peter explained. "Well Sir, lying in this coffin is someone who has volunteered for an experience in sensual touch and I think you may be just the person to make her evening v e r y special. I have watched you in the club on previous occasions and, if you don't mind me saying so, you seem to be someone who knows how to give a women great pleasure." I was a little taken aback, not because it wasn't true but I was a bit shocked that my previous evenings in the club had been the subject of such close scrutiny. I was also a bit flattered – of course I was. I think I am an imaginative and unselfish lover. I enjoy giving pleasure and I have also, as it happens, studied massage. I had a girlfriend a few years ago who had been injured in a car crash and suffered a lot of back and neck pain – massage helped her a lot. Obviously my massage skills developed at home in areas that would have profoundly shocked my teacher but Geri seemed to enjoy it, and the pain in her back even improved! I needed no more convincing, "OK Peter," I said, "What do you want me to do?" "There is a young lady in this coffin, Sir. She can't see out or hear very much. The coffin is a very comfortable and sensual place. That black area on the lid provides access to her. The black material is elasticated so that you can get your hands through. I can raise or lower the whole coffin so that it is at the most comfortable height for you to reach her. You can do anything, touch her anywhere, please her in any way you like. She will not know anything about you other than through your touch. She has agreed that both men and women can have access to her so she may not even know that you are a man. You are not the first person tonight to come to her and she has been teased rather more than I would have hoped. I would not normally suggest this Sir, but the lady concerned has been in the coffin for almost 40 minutes now and I think she is ready for a more," he paused, "fulfilling experience." He looked at me steadily as he said this and I understood immediately what he meant. Even thinking about it had me excited and my erection was all too obvious. "Wow! Well I'm your man." I was pleased and rather honoured. In about two seconds I'd taken off my jacket, dumped it on the chair and stepped over to the end of the coffin. "Which end is this?" I asked Peter. "I have said enough," he smiled. "You will discover for yourself I'm sure." He looked at me briefly, as if gauging my height against the coffin. "Wait a moment," he said and, reaching under the black draped table, somehow caused the coffin stand to lower itself by three or hour inches so that the height was perfect for me to reach through the mysterious black band on the lid. "I'll start at this end then" I told Peter and pushed my right hand through the black band. It offered little resistance, but closed around my arm, hiding the contents of the coffin from my curious gaze. Inside the coffin it was cool, a slight airflow tickled the hairs on the back of my hand as I reached for the place where it seemed likely that a head or feet would lie. It suddenly struck me that I knew nothing of what to expect. I knew only that there was a girl in the coffin, How old was she? What did she look like? What was she wearing? God! What a thrill. Peter had taken a step back, watching carefully but not crowding me. My hand found the bottom of the casket. The lining was soft and smooth but I found neither head nor feet, I brought my hand towards the side of the coffin and felt the warmth of her before I touched one of her feet; quite close to the side of the coffin. "Ok," I thought - at least I now knew which end was which. I took hold of the foot quite firmly – there is nothing worse than having your feet tickled – a real passion killer. The foot was bare. I moved my hand to her toes. Her foot was smooth with long, slender toes and short well cut nails. I massaged the toes, one at a time, not too firmly but careful not to tickle. She responded by wriggling her toes, slightly gripping my fingers. I moved down to the sole of her foot, kneading it between thumb and fingers. Suddenly I knew what I was going to do. I was going to give this woman a full blown erotic massage and she was going to have the orgasm of her life. I began to wonder what she was like, what she was wearing and how to deal with it. I knew her feet were bare but I had no idea what clothing she might be wearing. Whatever it was, I certainly intended to find out. I needed both hands. Standing at he end of the coffin now, in went my left hand, searching for the other foot. I found it against the far side of the coffin. "Interesting," I thought, if I were a woman I would have kept my legs together until I was a bit more sure that I liked what the person outside was doing, but not this girl. I massaged both feet now, toes to ankle, firmly but gently on the soles and heels. Her feet felt shapely and obviously well kept, her skin soft and supple. As I started to work my way from her feet upwards towards her calves I discovered the reason her legs were apart; they were bound to the sides of the coffin, held by a cuff of padded material just above her ankle. The small exclamation that escaped by lips was a mixture of surprise, pleasure and anticipation. I looked at Peter, my silent question surely written on my face. He watched and smiled but gave nothing away. I closed my eyes, trying to visualise the occupant of the coffin. She was obviously restrained in some way. Her feet were bound, were her hands also? I hoped so. The thought of her lying there, at the mercy of my touch, only fuelled my desire. Walking round to the side of the coffin, being careful not to stop the regular movement of my hands against her skin, I shifted my focus first to her calves and then to the backs of her knees; using my nails, fingers, palms and knuckles to stimulate the sensitive places. I lingered there for a while, varying the pressure of my touch, feeling her legs moving against her bonds, pressing against my hands, willing me on. The muscles of her calves, and thighs were toned, and well defined as my hands moved up her legs. Just above her knees I encountered a further pair of cuffs. Her thighs were held apart so that I would have free access to her pussy. But, that would come later; a lot later. I was going to make her wait. I spent a long time from knee to hip; caressing the outside her thighs, sliding my nails slowly up her inner thigh, feeling the warmth of her pussy on the back of my hand as I approached her pleasure centre. I was careful to get as close as possible without actually touching her pussy. That would come, but she must wait. I had not encountered anything at all in the way of clothing so far and by now I was pretty sure she was completely naked and that her hands were restrained; she could and surely would have reached out to me if not. I tried to imagine the contours of the woman's body as my hands continued to explore the silken skin of her inner thighs, gradually moving upwards, rounding her hips and moving to her belly. She had a slim waist and flat, firm stomach which I massaged gently, probing her belly button with a finger, feeling her skin flutter under my hands as I spread my fingertips and drew circles on her skin. My searching fingers found the soft mound of her pubic hair and I teased it gently. As I played there, she suddenly lifted her buttocks thrusting her pelvis forward as though trying to force my fingers down into the warm cleft below. "Ah, so you want me then" was my thought but I moved my hand away. Plenty of time for that later, it will be all the better for waiting. Next I moved my hands to her sides and arms – finding what I now expected, the third pair of cuffs holding her hands down by her hips, slightly away from her sides, so that I could reach her inner arms and round to her back. My God, I was enjoying this. I began the long erotic strokes that used to drive Geri wild – up the inner arms from the wrist to the shoulder than down the sides to the waist. On the down-stroke I was careful to make sure that my hands ran over the sides of her breasts, not at this stage touching the nipples but working gradually inwards on each stroke so that my fingers moved slowly closer and closer to the sensitive areola and nipple area. The position of her hands, bound to the base of the coffin, stretched the skin taut over her breasts for maximum sensitivity. Her breasts were not over-large but rounded and firm. As the arc of my massage moved towards the centre of her body my fingers began to brush against her nipples. They were rock hard and each time I touched them I felt her body arch in response to my caress. Now my focus shifted. I finally moved from her hands, arms and sides across her torso to cup her breasts in my hands and run my fingers around and over her nipples. She continued to arch her back, pressing her body against my hands. I felt, rather than heard the moans of pleasure. Judging by the movements of her body, as I repeatedly traced my finger tips around and over her nipples, her breasts were a particular source of pleasure to her. I would have loved to have looked at her now, so close to ecstasy. It was easy to imagine her lying there, open to my touch, responding to every caress of my hands but I could not resolve the detail. I moved to explore her neck and face, blind but without the skills of a blind man to construct the mental picture of the woman beneath my hands. She took my exploring fingers into her mouth, sucking and licking them, I let them linger there, feeling the pleasure myself from the movement of her teeth and tongue and allowing them to become slick with spittle. The moment had come, it was time for the teasing to end. Tracing the line of her breasts with my, now wet, fingers, toying with her nipples one more time and moving down over her belly, this time over the soft mound of pubic hair and down between her legs. She thrust her pelvis forward to meet me and this time I responded. Her pussy was soaking wet, the wonderful warmth and softness of her took my breath away as her pussy opened easily under the gentle pressure of my fingers. Spreading her lips like the petals of a flower I sought the tender nub of her clitoris, teasing it out from beneath its soft fold of skin. Gently I began to massage it with small circular movements, feeling it expand beneath my fingertips. With the other hand I continued to massage her breasts and nipples, their firmness in stark contrast to the softness below. As I continued, slowly increasing the speed and pressure of my movements the woman began to move her body in rhythm, first gently and then, as her pleasure mounted, with increasing force. I responded with changes to the pressure and movement on her clitoris and nipples but even now I was controlling the build of her climax. As I felt her movements became more frantic I would lift the pressure or slow the movement of my fingers, playing her body like a musical instrument. I wanted this to last. Finally though, I decided to take pity on her. Leaving her breasts, I switched hands. While the fingers of my left hand continued the stimulation of her clitoris I carefully slid two fingers of my right hand into her pussy and started to massage her G spot. This was too much, within seconds her body began to writhe against the bonds and her pelvis thrust against my hand, driving my fingers deep into her. Now I did not draw back, but matched her movements increasing the pressure of my fingers, keeping time with her rhythm. Her writhing movement became a regular thrusting against my hand with its fingers deep inside her pussy. Now she could have it, suddenly I switched the circular movement of my fingers on her clitoris and began to gently but rapidly flick it backwards and forwards with the tip of my finger. It was as if she had exploded. I heard the scream of ecstacy even from outside the coffin and felt the first spasm of her climax as the muscles of her vagina clenched around my fingers. I continued to use my fingers, matching my movements to the rhythm of her orgasm, coaxing her into paroxysms of pleasure, hearing her cries even through the thickly padded walls of the coffin. I had made her wait for an unbearably long time but I hoped it was worth it. Eventually the frequency of her climax slowed and I matched my movements as her orgasm waned, slowing and then gradually coming to a stop. I withdrew my fingers from her pussy and rested both hands between her legs, giving her time to calm down and wanting to communicate my gratitude. The strange mixture of great affection for the unknown woman and unbelievable lust made me feel rather dizzy for a moment. After a few minutes I withdrew my hands, as I did so the sweet smell of her woman's juices reached my nostrils and I gave a sigh of pleasure. I had completely lost track of time and place so I was slightly taken aback when I realised that Peter was holding me by the arm and asking me to leave to join the rest of the party. I could now see a small light flashing and hear a small buzzer sounding beneath the coffin. "It is time for me to free your anonymous lady from her bonds now. Please join your friends, your recollection of tonight will be all the more memorable if you do not know to whom you gave such obvious pleasure and if she does not know who her pleasure-giver was. Who knows, you may meet one day and discover each other. "At least," Peter looked at my hand which was still wet with her juices, "you will have the most evocative sense of all." And, raising my hand to my nose with a deep inhalation of pure pleasure, I could only nod as I picked up my jacket and he closed the curtains behind me. Xanadu Stories Ch. 04 "In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ranThrough caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea." - Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ---------------------------- The Xanadu may not be the 'Stately Pleasure Dome' of Kubla Khan's poetic decree but it is probably the best members-only sex club in the world. It is dedicated to the erotic pleasure of its clientele who are universally rich, often beautiful and who share a taste for the erotic and the sexually adventurous. This is what brings them through the discrete doors of a building in one of Central London's most up-market areas and into the well appointed surroundings in which the club has its home. The staff of the Xanadu, both male and female, are recruited for their combination of youth, good looks, discretion, customer service and sexual prowess. They are the best of the best. The club eschews the dangerous and the illegal but within those boundaries fosters the free expression of the sexual urge, in all its many and varied forms These are the stories from the Xanadu... ------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Note Prospective members of the Xanadu must undergo a probationary period of several months before becoming full members. During this time their membership is subject to veto. Acceptance for full membership is therefore a subject for celebration and an Inaugural rite is a major part of the process. This, then, is the story of Teresa's Inauguration. -------------------------------------------------------------------- The Inauguration Sam had made a great job of the dungeon. I closed the door behind me and paused for a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust to the reduced light levels in the room. The main illumination came from the glow of candles, hundreds of them seemingly, some in wall sconces, some suspended in wrought iron candelabra from the high ceiling and others placed in glass vessels on the stone floor, their warm light washed the walls, sending shadows dancing into the recesses of the room. The candle lanterns on the floor traced a path leading from the doorway, into the room, and my gaze naturally followed the lines of light to where Teresa stood, pale skinned and immobile, her head bowed so that I couldn't make out her face. She wore a short, dark, cocktail dress, cut straight across just above the bust with narrow straps at the shoulders. Sam had chained her in an upright posture with her legs apart and her arms above her head, elbows slightly bent. The chains ran from narrow bands of dark metal surrounding her wrists and ankles to iron staples embedded in floor and ceiling, she was held, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. The circles of black metal against Teresa's pale skin seemed incongruous, her small bare feet against the rough stone floor lent her an air of fragility, her long fingers and toes seemed almost translucent. I was momentarily shocked by the vulnerability of her position and for a second I wondered whether we had chosen the means of her inauguration well. At first Teresa showed no sign of having heard me enter the room but she raised her head at the sound of my footsteps as I followed the lighted path towards her, shaking the hair from her face to reveal large dark brown eyes which stared at me as I approached. She was a wonderfully attractive woman, with her dark eyes, high cheekbones, full lips and slender neck. I gazed in admiration, lost in wonder and speculation. Forgetting that we were not alone, I almost jumped out of my skin when a deep voice came from behind me, echoing my own thoughts when it said, "She is beautiful, don't you think?" I turned as the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows. It belonged, of course, to Sam. Tall and black he was laughing at my surprise, showing even, white, teeth. Wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting, ankle length, silk pantaloon trousers his bare feet made no sound on the stone floor. He was an imposing figure, his close cropped hair, broad shoulders and muscled torso gave him an aura of strength and easy confidence. "Yes she is," I agreed, once I had recovered my composure. And she was. I had been attracted to Teresa from the moment we first met. There was something about her. She was very good looking, of that there was no doubt, but there was more to it than physical perfection. There was some other quality that made one feel at ease in her company, an unselfconscious charm that was, for me, what made Teresa not just an attractive woman, but truly beautiful. Over the years I have played a part of the inauguration of many members and I have always seen it as something of an honour. The inauguration is a rite of passage; new members are encouraged to explore the nature of their sexuality during the period of their probation and to put aside pre-conceived notions of propriety. By an inaugural act which expresses what may have been long repressed desires, the member is freed to be more fully themselves. At least, that's the way I understand it. On another level altogether, the inaugural act itself is always a highly charged erotic experience for all concerned and on that basis alone I was looking forward to what was to come and the part I was to play. Whatever else happened I was going to make sure that Teresa had a night to remember. Sam introduced us as though we had never met. "Judy, this is Teresa; tonight is her inauguration as a full member of the Xanadu. She has chosen to be the recipient of an experience over which she has no control. She has willingly submitted to me and I have chained her here, she is unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. We are free to do to her as we will, she has forbidden nothing. She has no power to oppose us; she is not even allowed to speak." Was it apprehension in Teresa's eyes, or anticipation? I could not tell. Sam turned and stood in front of Teresa. He was at least a foot taller than the bound woman and, as I watched, reached up with both hands and placed his finger-tips on the inside of her wrists, drawing them lightly down the sensitive skin on the inside of her arms. Teresa gasped at his touch and jerked against the chains. "That's right isn't it Teresa?" He said. She nodded, saying nothing. Sam brought his hands up behind Teresa's head and, spreading his fingers, ran his hands up through her hair, lifting it from her shoulders and massaging her head and the nape of her neck. Teresa groaned softly as Sam used his fingertips to deliver a sensual head massage. I watched this performance with bated breath, drinking in the sights and sounds of the woman's pleasure, waiting for my turn. While Sam and Teresa were occupied I looked at her more carefully. We would be about the same height but she was barefoot and I wore heeled shoes so I stood slightly taller. Teresa had obviously taken great care with her appearance, her hair shone with health as it tumbled over Sam's hands and her simple dress was beautifully tailored. Black, with a square neckline and narrow shoulder straps it was an elegant rather than revealing garment but it showed off her slender waist and high, firm bust to perfection. It would have been a fashionable two or three inches above knee length had it not been for her posture which caused the dress to ride up revealing the lower half of her thighs. Her legs, without stockings or tights, were well shaped with good muscle tone. The iron shackles at her ankles and her small feet and slender toes against the rough stone floor emphasised the vulnerability of her position but I knew that, despite their coarse appearance, the bands of metal were discretely padded on the inside. They were not intended to be the cause of any significant discomfort. Sam dropped his hands and stepped back, turning to look at me. Teresa's eyes shone, her lips slightly parted and her breathing quickened as a result of his attention. "I think its time we saw a little more of Teresa, don't you?" He said. I was clearly not expected to reply. "Let's get these clothes out of the way shall we?" He continued, sliding a finger beneath one of Teresa's shoulder straps and lifting it slightly before letting it fall back into place. Teresa sighed softly at his touch and he repeated the movement, this time with the forefinger of both hands, tracing the line of the straps from her shoulder to the bust-line of her dress where he lingered for a moment, resting his fingers against the soft flesh before again lifting the straps and letting them fall against her skin. The apprehension had gone from Teresa's eyes now and was replaced by something else, the glint of desire perhaps? Her growing arousal was beginning to rub-off on me. I had been looking forward to this evening, planning it, constructing my own fantasy, and now I was about to make it real. I was also, I confess, looking forward to the role that Sam was to play; He was, after all, an extremely good looking and skilled young man. I felt the familiar flutter in the pit of my stomach and a sudden dampness between my legs as my imagination toyed with the possibilities. "Do you know, I think you're right," I said, my voice coming out a little more hoarsely that I had intended. Sam smiled, "help me with her zip will you?" I obliged; stepping behind Teresa, reaching up to the nape of her neck, I unfastened the small hook that secured the dress and eased the zip slowly downwards until it reached the end of its travel just above the curve of her buttocks. I parted the dress, catching a glimpse of its exclusive designer label, and allowed my hands to glide lightly over the smooth, pale skin of Teresa's back. The narrow strap of her bra punctuated the unblemished skin beneath my hands as I used my fingertips and nails to extract further small gasps of pleasure from the helpless woman. Sam watched silently as I began my exploration of Teresa's back. Unable to turn her head far enough to see what I was doing she gave up the attempt and remained looking forward. When my hands caressed her shoulders and neck, sliding up under her hairline, she arched her neck and tipped her head back in an almost feline gesture of pleasure. My hands strayed as far as the material of her dress would comfortably allow and I lingered over my task, listening to Teresa's breathing, identifying from her small moans the areas of her body which were particularly sensitive. The back of her neck, the soft skin under her arms, of course, and the downy skin just above the waistline of her pants were favourites and I made sure they received plenty of attention. As Teresa's desire rose palpably under my ministrations, so I felt my own arousal increase and I became impatient with the restrictions imposed by her dress. "Sam, why don't you help me to get this dress off?" I paused in my movements, now anxious to acquaint myself with the further delights that Teresa's body had undoubtedly to offer. Sam smiled and, moved on silent feet to join me at Teresa's back. Before I could say or do anything he grasped the two open halves of the dress and without apparent effort, ripped open the seam from the base of the zip to the hem, ripping the dress completely so that it was held up only by its narrow shoulder straps. I gasped; not only at Sam's easy strength but also at the wanton destruction of the exclusive and elegant dress which must have cost hundreds of pounds. I was shocked, but the sheer decadence of the act sent a flood of adrenaline through my body. I felt my face flushing. I was still recovering when Sam reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced a small bone handled clasp knife which he opened with a quick flick of his thumb. In a second he cut through first one shoulder strap and then the other, now the only thing holding up Teresa's dress. As the knife blade flashed in the candle light, the dress dropped to the floor. I could do nothing but gaze in desire at the view of Teresa's perfectly shaped back and buttocks, now covered only by a black, strapless bra and brief, lace trimmed, silk panties. Sam folded the knife and replaced it in his pocket, then bent down to pick up the remains of the dress, tossing it casually to one side. His comment was brief and to the point. "Nice," he said. Teresa's body lived up to my expectations. Her buttocks were firm and well shaped beneath the silk pants and her narrow waist, back and shoulders were in perfect proportion to her long and shapely legs. I yielded to temptation, placing my hands on her back and easing my fingers beneath her pants to caress the taut skin of the buttocks beneath. Pressing my body close against Teresa's back I kissed the nape of her neck, biting her gently and using my lips and tongue where before I had used only my fingers. She moaned softly, unable to do anything but submit to my caresses. Sam stepped aside and stood silently watching us. I noticed from the growing bulge in his trousers that he seemed to be enjoying the view. For a minute or two I was content with my exploration of Teresa's back and neck, deliberately skirting round the scant remains of her clothing, allowing it to act as a barrier. Occasionally I would slide a finger beneath silk or lace but only briefly and never straying too far or staying too long before withdrawing. I wanted the anticipation to build slowly. Moving close, pressing my body against her back, I allowed my hands to slide round to her belly, gently probing her navel and tracing the line of her panties with my fingers. I drew my nails across the soft skin of her stomach, feeling it flutter beneath my touch, and listened with increasing arousal as she responded to my caresses with small cries and moans. Her body glowed in the candle light as she submitted to my exploratory hands. She was at my mercy, this was the freedom she sought and she seemed to have lost herself in the moment. More than a little aroused myself now I decided it was time to move on. Catching Sam's eye and noticing with amusement that he was obviously enjoying the show, I stroked Teresa's back from top to bottom one more time before stepping round to stand in front of her. I liked what I saw. Held in place by the chains, Teresa's body was stretched taut; the soft curves of her breasts swelling the neat, lace-trimmed cups of her bra. Her flat stomach, punctuated by the dark hollow of her navel, was smooth skinned above the brief panties, moulded to the curves of her pubis. I traced a fingertip along the line of her bra, over one breast, into the deep valley between and then out over the other; she moaned quietly. I looked deeply into her eyes, dark brown and soft with anticipation. I could feel the warmth of her breath as I inhaled the sweet fragrance of her desire. I kissed her on the lips. Teresa returned my kiss, parting her lips and tilting her head slightly. Our tongues met and explored as the kiss deepened. Eyes closed, and sighing with pleasure I put my arms around her and unhooked the clasp of her bra. Teresa gasped as she felt the release of tension and I broke off the kiss, passing the bra to Sam who took it without comment. I gazed with pleasure at Teresa's breasts, they were firm and well shaped, the perfect pink circles of her areolas surrounding delicate nipples. I kissed her again, sucking her tongue into my mouth, absorbing the taste and scent of her. My hands slid to her breasts, tracing their curves with my fingers, loving the firmness of her flesh under my touch. I kissed her face and then her throat, gently biting and sucking her neck. While my hands continued their exploration of her breasts, my lips moved downwards, at first following the hardness of her breastbone and then finding the increasing softness of her cleavage. Teresa's moans became more intense as my lips and tongue did their work. I worked round her breasts, nibbling and sucking, enjoying the feel of her firm flesh against my lips and then, when I had teased enough, cupped her right breast in my hand and closed my mouth over her nipple. I felt the soft skin of her areola pucker under my tongue and I began working the nipple itself, sucking it and rolling it in my mouth, feeling the sensitive bud grow and harden against my lips. Teresa's groans became louder as I pleasured her breasts, coaxing and teasing with my fingers, lips and tongue. Sam, all the while saying nothing, looked on, drinking in the sights and sounds of our pleasure. I was hot now. I called to him, no longer caring about the upcoming destruction of what was clearly some very expensive underwear. I wanted Teresa naked. "Give me the knife," I ordered. I wanted the pleasure of removing the last vestige of her clothing for myself. Sam reached again into his pocket and withdrew the small silver knife. Opening it he offered it to me, handle first. "Be careful," he said, "It's sharp." "Don't worry", I replied and placing the back of the knife blade against Teresa's right hip, sliced neatly through the leg of her pants. "You're right, it is sharp," I said, moving to repeat the action on her other hip. The knife cut easily through the final restraining band of lace and I allowed the shredded pants to fall to the floor, dropping the knife onto them. As it fell, Sam winced but said nothing, simply reaching down and retrieving both cloth and blade before stepping back into the shadows. Naked now, obviously aroused, her body glowing in the candle light, Teresa was a magnificent sight. Her hair, tangled from Sam's earlier ministrations, framed her lovely face with its dark eyes and parted lips. With the chains holding her arms high and her legs apart, her proud breasts with their fully erect nipples, still glistening with traces of my saliva, she was perfectly displayed. The flat belly and, below it, the small patch of dark hair covering her mound of venus completed the picture. I drank in the view, hungry for her body, all my senses alive with anticipation, but first it was my turn to show what I had to offer. I confess that I am rather proud of my body. I will cheerfully admit that I can't compete with Teresa's perfection, but then, few people can. At least I would give Teresa and Sam a bit of a show. The black mini dress I had chosen to wear that evening was ideal for what I had in mind. Its V shaped neckline and line of buttons down the front meant that it could be worn demurely or to tantalise. That night I wore no bra and had left enough undone to show off the curves of my cleavage. Stockings and heels completed the ensemble; In short, I was dressed to kill and there were to be no merely wounded that night. "Come round here Sam," I ordered, and he complied immediately, standing next to Teresa as I faced them both. They watched intently as I began by slipping my shoes off. Standing in my stockinged feet Teresa and I were roughly equal in height. I held her gaze and, leaning slightly towards her, slowly undid the top button of my dress. I flexed my shoulders and the material parted slightly. Teresa and Sam watched, apparently entranced, as I began to undo the dress, button by button, slowly parting the material to reveal myself to them. I was careful not to expose too much at first, allowing the dress to open gradually, hiding a full view of my body from them but giving them a taste of what was to come, teasing them with glimpses of skin. With two or three buttons undone I slid a hand beneath the dress and slowly began to massage my own breasts, hiding my movements beneath the material but making it obvious to them what I was doing. My breasts were super-sensitive and I moaned with pleasure as my fingers played over my nipples, circling them and gently pinching them between thumb and forefinger. Sam's eyes followed the movement of my hand, it was as though he was mesmerised by the sight. Teresa too seemed transfixed but her focus was on my eyes. I held her gaze and read the depths of her desire. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. Xanadu Stories Ch. 04 I continued unbuttoning the dress, letting it part more, although still not revealing myself totally to them. My hand strayed downwards, over my belly, and the fingers slid beneath my panties. I parted my legs and let my fingers slip between my labia. I couldn't prevent the small gasps of pleasure escaping my lips as I found what I was seeking and, in any case, it was obvious from my movements what I was doing. I enjoyed the teasing. Teresa's eyes looked enormous, now she watched the movements of my hidden fingers and could not look away. I was soaking wet, my fingers, slick with my own juices, played over my clitoris and slid easily inside my pussy. Every touch on my clitoris brought an involuntary shudder of pleasure, so intense it was almost painful. I was very close to bringing myself to a climax, my body crying out for release, but this was not the way and, with a sigh of interrupted pleasure, I finally withdrew my hand. I stepped closer to Teresa so that my body was almost touching hers. Her eyes held mine as I slowly opened up the dress and slipped it over my shoulders. My breasts jutted proudly forward, their small upturned nipples hard with desire. I leaned forward, brushing my breasts and nipples against hers. She almost screamed with pleasure. I too was on fire, I grasped her waist and held her to me, wiggling my torso so that our nipples met again and again, each glancing movement producing a paroxysm of pleasure that had me gasping. I took her nipples again in my mouth, sucking each of the hard peaks in turn and leaving them slick with saliva the better to lubricate the movement of breast on breast. Teresa was wild; beside herself with desire now, she pressed her body against mine, making incoherent sounds of pleasure that echoed my own passionate cries. After a few moments, I separated from Teresa, peeled off my stockings and slipped out of my panties to stand naked before her, my small patch of blond pubic hair contrasting with her darker mound. Now I was focused entirely on the woman before me, hardly aware of Sam's presence. I stood between her spread-eagled legs and placing my arms around her neck, pulled our bodies together. I resumed the sinuous motion of my body against hers, breasts and nipples again sliding together stimulating each other. Our mouths met and we kissed deeply, tongues entwined, our bodies moving together as one. Turning slightly, I pressed my hip into the space between Teresa's legs and began a gentle gyration of my pelvis. Teresa gasped and started to move in rhythm, standing on tiptoe and grinding her pussy against me. I brought my fingers into play, sliding them between her legs to open up her pussy, finding the firm nub of her clitoris and working it with the tip of a finger as Teresa jerked and moaned at every change in pressure. Her movements were becoming more frenzied with each passing second and I slowed down, withdrawing slightly from her. I didn't want her to orgasm just yet and I knew she was close. It was time for Sam to join the action. "Sam, lie down with your head between Teresa's legs," it was more an order than a request. He knew exactly what I wanted, smiling broadly, he lay on his back with his legs stretched out in front of Teresa and his head midway between her tethered feet. Looking up he had a perfect view of Teresa's soaking labia. He was about to get a lot closer view of mine. Kneeling in front of Teresa, I straddled Sam's head and he wasted no time, opening his mouth wide, probing my eager pussy with his tongue. I adjusted my position, opening my legs wider to give him deeper access and he responded, working his tongue between my labia sending involuntary shudders of pleasure coursing through my body. Now he helped me out, bringing his hands up between Teresa's legs and gently spreading the lips of her pussy to receive my willing tongue. The floor was hard on my knees but I was beyond caring, I began to lick her with long, slow strokes of my tongue. She tasted wonderful; I drank in her juices, the smell of her desire sweet in my nostrils. For the first time, she began to speak. "Yes... Oh... yes," was all that emerged, punctuated by long, shuddering sighs as my tongue did its work, tracing the length of her pussy, sliding between the sensitive lips, penetrating her and then flickering over her clitoris, to linger there before repeating the process, rhythmically, time and time again. Sam was not idle. He brought his hands up to my breasts and began to massage them, squeezing my nipples gently between outstretched fingers and, opening his mouth wide, began to lap up my juices. His tongue was fantastic, sucking my labia into his mouth he forced his tongue between the sensitive lips, alternately probing deep into my pussy and rasping his tongue over my exposed clitoris. Already almost at the point of climax, I began to have a series of mini-orgasms. Sam would flick his tongue over my clitoris until I started to cum and then stop. Sucking me into his mouth and pressing his tongue against my clitoris he held me at bay. I found myself mirroring his actions on Teresa. When he took my clitoris into his mouth and sucked, I did the same. When he flicked the tip of his tongue backwards and forwards over it, I copied. Teresa was ecstatic, the chains held her as her body jerked and writhed with pleasure. Thrusting her pussy forward against my lips, her vow of silence forgotten, she screamed for more. My hands were everywhere; at her breasts, between her taut buttocks, my nails raking down the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, I strove to deliver the maximum possible pleasure to the tethered woman. Sam knew exactly what he was doing. As Teresa's shouts heralded her approaching orgasm, his focus on my clitoris intensified. His tongue began the strong, regular, circular movements that he knew would bring me off. The mini orgasms combined into a powerful contraction beginning deep in my belly, spreading like a hot wave. Teresa screamed and I felt the first convulsive jerk as her climax began. Perfectly on cue, Sam inserted a finger into my pussy, found my G spot and started to rub, at the same time sucking my clitoris into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. I was gone. My own scream of ecstasy burst from my lips as I came in an intense wave of pure pleasure. Every convulsive heave of my body translated through my lips and tongue to Teresa's clitoris as she climaxed in harmony. Wave after wave of orgasm coursed through my body as Sam continued to feast on my pussy, his finger deep inside me and his mouth closed over my clitoris, sucking the juices from me. At last I was done. The waves of orgasm began to subside; Teresa too was quieter now, moaning softly as her climax abated. Sam slowed and became gentler in his movements. As he did so, I withdrew from the heaven that was Teresa's body, inhaling deeply I felt almost drunk with the heady scent of her sex. Slowly I eased myself back into a standing position, my knees suffering from their encounter with the cold stone floor. Teresa hung from her chains like a rag doll, utterly spent, there were tears on her cheeks which I lightly kissed away. "Wow!...God!...Wow," seemed to be about the limit of her communication. I knew exactly how she felt, my body was utterly drained too. I put my arms around her and kissed her, holding her against me. Now I wanted her unchained, I wanted her to hold me. I looked around to find Sam. He was getting slowly to his feet, my love juices still glistening around his mouth. I suddenly felt for him. The bulge in his pants could not be ignored and he had served us well. "Teresa, I just need to take care of Sam. Are you OK there for a few minutes more?" I asked her. "I'm fine," she said, "look after him, he's been fantastic." I needed no second bidding. "Don't get up Sam." This time it was a request, not an order. "Just turn round so that Teresa can see you." Sam dutifully changed position so that he was laid out in front of Teresa. I sat astride his legs. "Lets see what's happening here Sam," I said, even though it was blatantly obvious from the bulge beneath his trousers. Leaning forward, I hooked my fingers into his waistband and eased the thin pantaloons down over his thighs. He lifted his bum slightly, helping me out. He wore nothing beneath. I was impressed, he was massively erect, the skin over his balls stretched tight. In other circumstances I would simply have spread my legs and sunk his manhood deep within me but tonight this was not part of the plan. What I needed though was some lubrication. My pussy was still soaking wet with a combination of Sam's saliva and my own juices, it was ideal. A moment later my hand was between my legs, gathering the slick fluids with my fingers. I transferred them to the shaft of Sam's cock, adding my juices to the small bead of seamen that glistened on its head. "Take mine too," Teresa did not want to be left out. I stretched my hand across and ran my fingers along her cleft. She too was soaking. Her small gasp as my fingers brushed against her clitoris was a turn-on and I wondered for a moment where it might lead but, for the moment, I stayed focused on the task in hand. Adding Teresa's juices to mine was enough. Sam's cock was smooth and slippery under my hand as I curled my fingers around his shaft. Cupping his balls with the other hand I began to stimulate him. He groaned with the pleasure of it. Slowly at first, concentrating on the sensitive tip of his cock, I gradually increased the length of my stroke. Sam encouraged me and guided my movements in a voice that was hoarse with desire. "Slowly, yes, that's it, longer, yes, yes". I continued my strokes and gentle squeezing of his balls. I could not see Teresa's face but I could feel her eyes on me as I took my time in pleasuring Sam. Suddenly she spoke, "Judy, will you take the straps off my ankles?" Thinking she must be uncomfortable now. I turned from Sam and looked at Teresa. I could reach both of her feet easily from where I sat, astride Sam's thighs. The shackles at her ankles were held with a simple Velcro strap and it was the matter of a moment to free her. Teresa brought her legs together. I turned back to Sam, continuing where I had left off. Teresa spoke again, "Let me," she said. Now I knew why she had wanted me to free her legs. With her right foot she gently nudged aside the hand that I was using to massage Sam's balls and began to use her toes to stimulate his scrotum. At the coolness of her touch Sam lifted his head and groaned with pleasure. I repeated the collection of juices from between my legs and added lubrication to Teresa's toes and the ball of her foot. I now had a free hand and lost no time in putting it good use. Sliding off Sam's legs, I knelt by his side, and began to massage his chest and belly, pinching and stretching his nipples, all the while maintaining the regular, rhythmic stokes on his cock. Under this onslaught Sam could not contain himself. His groans grew louder and louder culminating a great shout of release as his cock begin to jerk beneath my hand and his seed spilled out onto his stomach. "Oh yes, Oh yes," it was as though Teresa was having another orgasm of her own as Sam's convulsive movements were transmitted through her foot. I moved both hands to Sam's cock, as his orgasm continued, catching his seed in my hand and mingling it with our juices. Gradually his movements slowed as his orgasm abated. After a time he placed a hand on mine, telling me that I should stop. Teresa traced the line of his cock with her toes, and he sighed with pleasure, head resting on the floor, eyes closed. Teresa relaxed. She placed her foot back on the floor, leaving a small damp footprint and I raised myself to a standing position. Now I wanted her in my arms, reaching up I unclipped the shackles at her wrists and freed her. Our bodies came together, gently now, our passion for the moment spent. We kissed, deeply and, in my heart I knew that this night was not over and that we would make love again, but this time on even terms. She would have her fill of my body as I would of hers and we would sleep afterwards, as lovers do. Sam rose, pulling up his trousers, and disappeared into the shadows for a minute before returning and handing us each a white robe, which we put on. He handed me my discarded clothing and, with a rather bashful look, passed Teresa the remains of her outfit; her bra and shoes being the only items fit for future use. A moment of pain crossed her face at the sight of the ruined dress but she smiled a rueful smile. "Don't worry, it was worth it," she said and we all laughed as, arm in arm, we re-traced the candlelit path and headed for the door.