The Club: First Contact by Corvus

Karen St. James wheeled the BMW into the long driveway. The concrete curved around the huge front yard to pass in front of a set of dark paneled French doors set deep within a shaded porch.

Karen parked under the shade of an enormous oak and switched off the ignition. She regarded the house with cool blue eyes behind dark glasses. She had a pretty oval face with sandy blonde hair that bounced in casual waves behind her ears and halfway down her back. Her makeup was understated; a hint of mascara, a suggestion of blush. Her lips were full and sensual, painted with a pale salmon gloss.

She laid her sunglasses on the passenger seat, and gathered up a file folder and her shoulder bag.. She opened the car door to a cool April morning. Wind ruffled the branches of the trees. Sunlight dappled her face as she stepped towards the house’s entryway. She wore a short black skirt, ultra-sheer pantyhose, and an emerald-green long-sleeved blouse with a square low neckline that revealed the tops of her high, pert breasts. On her feet were a pair of high-heeled jet-black sandals; a little early in the season perhaps; but it showed her shapely feet to good advantage. At five-foot-seven, she was an elegant and stylish package.

She looked at her Rolex. Right on time. She extended her slender arm, and pressed the doorbell button.

Chimes sounded softly inside. One side of the French doors opened to reveal a Latina woman in her late twenties. She wore a white uniform dress that hugged her generous breasts and hips. Her long dark hair was thick and glossy.

Karen smiled and said, “Hi, there. I’m Karen St. James. I think Ms. Cavanaugh is expecting me.”

The woman in the uniform paused for a second. Her eyes briefly swept up and down Karen, as if taking a quick inventory.

Apparently she passed muster. The woman said, in a lightly accented dusky voice, “Yes, please come in, Ms. St. James.”

Karen stepped in. The foyer was wide and brightly lit. An old, faded rug rested on the polished hardwood floor.

The uniformed woman said, “This way, please.” She started walking down the foyer and turned right into a long hall. Karen followed a couple of steps behind. She admired the sway of the Latina woman’s hips under the dress. And that flawless matte complexion! Beautiful.

Karen followed the woman into a large living area. Holly Cavanaugh sat at one end of an overstuffed davenport. A sterling silver tea service rested on the low antique coffee table before her. She smiled brightly in greeting. She stood up and came around to greet Karen.

“Karen, darling! How nice to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.” Holly’s voice had a British accent, with a pleasant, lilting tone. She extended her hands to Karen.

Karen took Holly’s hands in her own, and squeezed lightly. She smiled and said, “I’ve been anticipating this myself. How wonderful of you to have me over.”

Holly shook her head lightly. “Oh, no, it’s my pleasure. Please, sit down, dear.”

Holly then turned to the dark-haired woman in uniform. “Thank you, Lydia. That will be all for now. Please see that we aren’t disturbed for at least an hour.”

Lydia said, “Yes, Ms. Cavanaugh.” She turned quickly and left the room through another door that led to the back of the house.

Karen watched the scene with interest. There was a hint of imperious tone to Holly’s voice. And there was a shade of defiance to Lydia’s carriage as she walked out of the room.

Karen sat down on the davenport, and Holly eased herself down after Lydia left the room. Holly was wearing a snug-fitting dark red skirt that ended three inches above the slender knees. She had a jacket in the same color over a powder blue blouse of a semi-transparent weave. On finely muscled legs she wore a pair of dark sheer stockings. Her feet nestled in classic high-heel pumps with open toes.

Holly had a bright animated face framed with short light brown hair that formed a parentheses for her head. Her nose was small and pixyish. She wore little makeup. Her eyes were her most striking feature. They were pale, about the color of a fine Chardonnay, and they gave Holly a look of startling intensity. Karen found herself being drawn into those pale eyes.

Holly busied herself pouring tea while they chatted lightly about the fine spring weather and other trivia. After Karen took a couple of sips of excellent Earl Grey, Holly picked up the folder that Karen brought over and opened it.

Karen put down the teacup. Now it was business.

Holly glanced at the contents of the folder. She said softly, “All right, dear, just for the purposes of verification, who recommended our little club to you?”

“Trinidad DeVries,” Karen said.

“And what was the password that dear Trini gave you?” Holly smiled at Karen and ran the tip of her tongue over her pale red lips.

Karen pause a second. She started to speak, then stopped.

Holly prompted, “Go ahead, dear. Just say it.”

Karen blurted, “Hot to twat.” She giggled.

Holly laughed. “That’s our Trini. Somewhat juvenile, but she is a luscious package, isn’t she?”

Karen smiled. “She is indeed.”

Holly asked, “So, have you two….?”

Karen said, “No, not yet. I’ve certainly thought about it. But then, after a workout at the gym, she mentioned this little club. It sounded like it might fit my…tastes.”

Holly put down the folder. “I suppose it could. And we are always on the lookout for people who possess the right qualifications.”

Karen leaned forward and asked, “So. Is it all erotic fighting? Is that what everyone does?”

Holly said, “It is mostly catfighting and sexfighting. There are a few members who prefer straight wrestling. We try to accommodate them.”

Karen asked, “So how, exactly, does it work?”

Holly stood up. “It’s a little warm in here. I’m going to take off my jacket.”

She removed the dark red garment. She wore no bra under the sheer blouse. Her breasts were easily visible. They were not too large, about the size of the bone-china teacups that held their tea. They were crowned with pink protuberances set in a puffy dark circle. They bounced slightly as Holly sat down again. Karen felt a distinct twinge of arousal.

“Our little club started about five years ago. I developed a taste for this type of thing in England when I was a teen-ager. After I married, we came here to live. Through discreet inquiries and the judicious application of money, I found some other women who share the same kink.”

Holly paused and took a sip of tea. “All the women in the club have some things in common. One, they’re all rich. Two, they all are married, and they keep this little aspect of their sexual persona to themselves. Three, they know that to disclose this to anyone means the one think they could not bear: the end of the sexual combat.”

Karen said, “I can see why that is an incentive to be discreet.”

Holly nodded. “Now, a few miles away is large house. It has no permanent inhabitants. Inside are several rooms with different décor and accoutrements. This is where we have our…contests. Now, when you want a little exercise, call me or e-mail me. I’ll give you the special phone number later. By messenger, you’ll receive a package containing a picture of your opponent, vital statistics, rules for the fight, and the date and time most feasible for your meeting.

“Show up there a few minutes early. You will have the entire house for yourself. Refreshments will be available should you desire them. Meet your opponent. Talk with her if you wish or just have at it. Whether a contest will be to first orgasm, or until one of you has just had enough, is up to you.

Karen asked, “Who chooses the opponents I face?”

“We’ll put the data from this form into the computer. The software will match you with the women that meet the desires and needs that you and the others indicated. We did this to ensure that all women get a chance for a bout.”

Karen smiled. “This is a superb setup, Holly. It must cost a pretty penny.”

“It does indeed, sweetheart. Did you bring the check?”

Karen reached into her bag. She pulled out the cashier’s check for five thousand dollars and handed it to Holly. Holly took it and slipped it into the file folder.

Holly said, in soft British tones, “Thank you ever so much, darling. Now, would you do me the courtesy of sharing with me the details of your first sexfight?”

Karen said, “Well, okay. It was in college. My roommate and I were on the tennis team. One night, we got into an argument after practice. I forget just what it was about. It degenerated into a shoving match in our room.”

Karen stood up and stretched. While she talked, she walked over to the large fireplace along on wall. She looked in the antique mirror over the mantle. She could see Holly sitting down, listening intently.

“We were both wearing our tennis skirts. We were wrestling around on her bed. She grabbed my skirt and pulled. It tore. I got mad and tore her blouse.”

Holly got up silently and walked to the fireplace. Karen’s eyes were closed in memory, and she was unaware of Holly’s presence.

Karen continued. “Before you knew it, our clothes were in absolute tatters, and we were locked together in a hard embrace, my hand pulling her hair, her hands pressing on my breasts. We were starting to breathe very heavily, when suddenly she leaned forward, and – OH!… GOOD GOD!… AHHHHHHH!”

Karen looked down. Holly had worked her hand stealthily up her skirt, and had started fingering her crotch through her pantyhose. Karen wore no panties. The insistent fingers rubbed her pussy. She instantly started to moisten and flow.

Holly whispered to her in a silky cultured voice. “This is the best way to tell you, dear, that this is no club for college girls. There are some of us who can destroy you sexually in mere moments.”

Holly stared at Karen with those piercing pale eyes as she continued her assault on Karen’s cunt. Karen’s face was contorted with desire and shock as her clit felt the pressure of Holly’s thumb.

Holly continued to speak into Karen’s ear. “Ah, you’re going to lose it any second, dear. I’ll have you a quivering mass of jelly. Are you sure this is what you want, darling?” Holly stuck out her tongue and licked Karen’s cheek.

Karen’s legs started to buckle. Her knees spread apart as Holly continued to rub her nylon covered pussy. She could feel the approaching orgasm nearly on her. Behind that was the absolute shock at the unexpected invasion.

Holly extended her thumb upwards. Her sharp nail sliced open the nylon crotch of the pantyhose. She widened the rip with her fingers. Now she had Karen’s naked cunt at the mercy of her questing fingers. Holly slipped a finger hard up Karen’s vagina.

Karen gasped. She could not and would not allow herself to be taken by this devilish bitch. With the last bit of her will, she reached her hand down. She felt the handle of a fireplace poker. She straightened up slightly and placed one leg behind Holly’s. She took her left hand, reached out and firmly grasped one of Holly’s unholstered breasts. She pinched and pushed simultaneously.

Holly squawked and fell over backwards onto the thick hearth rug. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she hit. Her skirt rode up revealing the shaven pussy beneath sheer dark hose.

Holly looked up, surprised. She laughed loudly. “Well, someone unsheathed her claws.”

Karen looked down. She was still breathing heavily. Her cunt was soaked. As she moved, a drop of liquid fell down through the ragged tear in her hose and hit Holly’s leg.

Karen reached out with the fireplace iron and poked the tip of Holly’s left breast. She was rewarded with a quick inward hiss of air. She took her foot and brought her shoe forward to rest on Holly’s cunt. She pushed with her leg and saw Holly’s thick labia spread outward under the hosiery. Karen worked the tip of the poker around the thick nipple as she applied rhythmic pressure with her foot.

Holly started to shudder. Her eyes closed and her hips started to undulate. A low guttural moaning came from deep within her.

Karen kept up the rude assault for another couple of minutes. When she thought she could trust her temper again, she stopped. She put aside the fireplace tool, and reached down to Holly.

Holly took her hand and came to her feet. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.” She smiled at Karen.

Karen didn’t smile back. In a low voice, she said, “I’m no fucking amateur.”

Holly looked in the mirror, patted her hair and rearranged herself. She retrieved her jacket and slipped it on. She said, “Of course you aren’t, my dear. I was just having a little fun. And I will have to go to my room as soon as you leave, and finish what you started, dear. You left me in quite a state.” She sighed theatrically.

As Karen gathered her things, Holly said, “Well, I’ll get this into the machine. If you want, you can expect you first contest within the week. I’m sure you’ll acquit yourself marvelously. As for myself, I can’t wait until we meet in a bout. It should be smashing.”

Karen paused at the entry to the room. “Yes, I definitely do want. And you left me in quite a state as well.” Karen felt her hostile feelings diminish. All in all, the experience had been quite…exhilarating.

Karen left her there in the living room as she made her way to the front door. Lydia was there to open the door for her. As she opened it, she leaned over and whispered in Karen’s ear, in words dripping with venom, “I hope you fucked the bitch up.”

Startled, Karen dumbly nodded. She walked to her car and drove out, wondering. Just what had she gotten herself into?

The End

Thank you for reading! For more of Corvus’ Stories: Click Here!

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