CFNM Revenge Tales (5 page)

That night Rachael
learned that viewing figures had gone through the roof, due to Jack’s little
costume malfunction. The show was a huge success, and for Rachael the catalyst
for a long and successful career in the television industry. Jack would
continue his success in major league football, but for the rest of his life
would be dogged by comments related to the size of his manhood. The clip from
the show never tired and became something of a classic on blooper shows.

“Knees up, push harder, harder, harder,”
shouted Marco.

Rosie dug deep,
feeling the burn in her legs. Having already lunged, squatted, pushed and
pulled herself through a vigorous workout routine, she was on her final
exercise, the running machine.

“Keep pushing, another
thirty seconds,” said Marco, her personal trainer overseeing things, admittedly
enjoying putting Rosie through her paces.

He’d worked at the gym
for a little over two years and in that time worked with clients of all ages,
sizes and shapes. But nothing compared to having an attractive, nubile young
thing like Rosie before him. He admired her slim, toned body for a moment. It
was encased in only small black shorts and a tiny tight vest top, baring her
flat smooth midriff. She was a natural beauty. Days like today made his job all
worth it.

“Twenty more seconds,
twenty more seconds,” he yelled, pushing the speed button on the running
machine up a notch.

Marco liked testing
the limits of young things like Rosie, taking them places they didn’t think
they could go. And Rosie certainly felt like she was going somewhere she didn’t
want. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen, perspiration glistened on her silky
skin.

“Just ten seconds, ten
more seconds,” he insisted, upping the intensity of the machine yet again and
counting down from a stopwatch that hung from his neck.

She gave it everything,
her last ounce of energy as her legs tightened up and the machined mercifully
slowed to a stop.

“Good job,” said
Marco, patting her bum as he helped her from the machine.

Immediately she bent
double, still breathing heavily, feeling exhausted as she caught her breath.
Marco came up behind her, ready to stretch out those taut, tight muscles. He
put his hands first on her hips, before moving them firmly onto her tight,
curvy behind. Rosie swung round and swatted them away feeling hot, sweaty and
bad tempered.

“Jesus Marco, I get
that your touchy feely and all, but there is a line you know,” she said fuming.

It wasn’t the first
time his hands had strayed inappropriately. It was becoming something of a
habit of his. Yes, he was a young, good-looking guy, but he had no right to
virtually touch her up under the guise of his job. She certainly wasn’t going
to stand for it, however attractive he was.

“What’s wrong?” he
said, with an innocent expression of dumb befuddlement. “I was just helping you
warm down.”

“Really, is that all
you were doing?”

“Yeah really!” he
countered.

She grabbed her towel
and headed off to the changing area, not looking back.

“Come on Rosie,” he
called after her to no avail. “Damn it.”

Cursing he slammed his
fist into a punch bag. For obvious reasons Rosie was exactly the type of girl
he wanted at the gym. She was a pleasure to train and deep down in Marco’s eyes,
potentially more than just a paying customer.

In the changing room,
Rosie pulled on a sweater, grabbed her things and headed out the gym still
annoyed. It took her good few minutes to calm herself as she sat inside her car
taking slow, deep breaths. For a split second it had crossed her mind that
maybe her outburst had been too much, but she’d quickly rebuked herself for
thinking such thoughts. If it weren’t for his good looks Marco would be
explaining himself to the manager right now. Just let it go, let it go she told
herself.

Feeling calmer she
started the engine, keen to get home and get ready for what promised to be an
exciting night. It was her twenty fifth birthday tomorrow, and she and her
girlfriends had agreed tonight would be the night they’d celebrate it. What
exactly they had planned was shrouded in secrecy. The only instruction they’d
given was to prepare for a night of Glitz and Glam. As she pulled out the
parking lot, she pushed what had happened in the gym to the back of her mind,
already thinking what fun might be in store.

Marco watched from the
window as her car accelerated away.

“Damn it,” he said,
cursing again, hoping that wouldn’t be the last he’d see of her.

Later that day, having
gone through the timely, but enjoyable ritual of getting ready for a big night
out, Rosie pulled on the figure hugging, gold strapless dress, she’d picked out
specially. With her make up done, her glossy hair swept down, she was ready for
the evening ahead.

“How do I look?” she
asked, pulling down the short hem of her dress.

“Scandalicious,”
replied curly haired, Christina, her flat mate and best friend, who dressed in
a sparkly, sequined silver number, didn’t look so bad herself.

Rosie finished putting
on her sparkly heels, just in time as a car tooted outside.

“That’s us,” said
Christina, grabbing her purse.

When Rosie stepped
outside her mouth dropped open. Parked waiting was a classy black stretch limo.
Leaning out the open window, was none other than a blonde bombshell named
Bianca, another of her good friends.

“Party time!” she
shouted to them excitedly.

“I don’t believe you
girls,” mouthed Rosie, looking at the glistening limo.

Inside the plush limo
the two girls joined Bianca and two more of Rosie’s friends. Perfect petite,
Penelope, and delectable, dark, Denise. The five girls all looked the part, red
carpet ready in their tight, shimmering dresses. As the vehicle got moving the
girls cracked open the bubbly and toasted to Rosie. It didn’t take long before
conversation turned to the night ahead.

“What’s this big
surprise then, where we off to?” asked Rosie.

“Ah, ah, ah, not quite
yet,” said Christina.

She was enjoying
holding Rosie in suspense. Her flat mate was well known amongst the group as a
stickler for tardiness and planning ahead. Tonight was about relaxing,
de-cluttering her mind of any worries and spontaneity.

“Come on girls, I’m on
tenterhooks here, at least give me a clue.”

The four girls looked
at her having expected as much. They’d prepared a few tit bits to let her feed
on without giving much away.

“Okay, three clues,”
said Christina.

Rosie tossed her hair
back and settled herself on the plush leather ready to begin guessing.

“Clue number one,
delicious food,” said Penelope, licking her lips coyly.

Rosie nodded running
through a list of restaurants.

“Clue number two,
gorgeous men,” added Denise, raising an eyebrow.

Okay, a restaurant
with a bar or club thought Rosie, narrowing down her search.

“Any ideas?” asked
Christina.

“The Lounge?.... Ruby’s?....The
Loop?” guessed Rosie.

The four girls shook
their heads, giggling at every wrong answer.

“Okay, clue number
three?”

“Naked men!” enthused
Bianca, grinning naughtily.

Rosie looked at the
four of them as they broke into laughter seeing her look of perplexed mystification.

“Please don’t tell me
you’ve got some trashy, male stripper planned.”

“Oh no, much better,
much much better,” said Christina as the four women burst into a conspiratorial
laugh.

As the limo sped on
Rosie was surprised to see they were heading away from the city, out into the
lush green countryside, gradually along narrow country lanes. When they reached
their destination darkness had all but fallen. The limo crept past thick
stonewalls, between an open tall black iron gate and along a never-ending
driveway.

Through the tinted
windows she could see manicured lawns and slowly, honing into view ahead of
them, a grand stately home. Every single room in the Georgian pile was on,
making the fine house shine a rich golden yellow. To Rosie it looked like
something out of a fairytale.

“Where are you taking
me?”

“This should explain a
few things,” said Christina, passing her a crisp laminated card. “Your
invitation.”

The card was black
except for the cat like gaze of a woman’s eyes, beneath the image in swirling
purple lettering were the words, ‘Glitz and Glam.’ A small gold inscription in
the bottom right corner spelt Club Divine, with its logo of red lips curled
into a smile.

All Rosie knew about
Club Divine was that it was an extremely exclusive members club. The themed
parties they hosted were notorious for their secrecy as well as their feminist
bent. It was an organisation run for, and by females. Any man that did attend
was there only for one purpose, the pleasure of the female guests.

“Turn it over,” said
Christina.

On the other side was
a small excerpt. Rosie read it aloud as the limo pulled up in front of the
grand entrance.

'Club Divine welcomes you to celebrate its
tenth anniversary at the stunning Mansion House, for a night of pure,
unadulterated luxury. Of exquisite cuisine, first class service and wickedly
fun entertainment. To mark the special occasion we are holding our very first
slave auction. That’s right ladies the finest, buffest studs, will be available
for purchase and yours to do with as you please, at least until sunrise.
Prepare for an evening that promises to be a feast for the eyes and the senses.'

When Rosie finished she
looked at them open mouthed.

“Sound good?” asked
Christina.

“Its definitely a few
notches up on strippers,” she replied, now understanding the girls’ barely
concealed excitement.

“Maybe we’ll get you a
hunk,” said Bianca.

“Or two,” added
Penelope.

“But how did you get
these invitations?” Rosie asked, still taken aback that they were about to
attend one of Club Divine’s infamous parties.

“Oh we have our
connections,” said Christina tapping her nose mysteriously.

The ladies stepped out
the limousine, into a balmy, starlit night. Other women were arriving looking
ravishing dressed in their finery. Rosie’s group followed the stream of women
through the grand entrance and into a lobby of mansion-esque proportions. The
floor was covered in black and white tiles, which led to a wide central
stairwell carpeted in red, sweeping upwards to the floors above. Tonight’s main
proceedings however, were to be held in the dining hall to their left, this was
where they now headed.

At its entrance a lady
in a backless gown took their invitations and welcomed them through with a
glint in her eye. “Oh my,” said Rosie taking in the halls splendour. It was
decadence defined, with golden fixtures and fittings, and an enormous crystal
chandelier hanging from the staccato ceiling. Across one wall was draped a velvet
red curtain, like in a theatre, just visible jutting under its edge was the
front of a mahogany stage.

A young female
waitress in a little black dress showed the women to their table, ten of which
were arranged around the spacious hall. Each of the round tables were covered
in spotless, white tablecloths, glinting silvery cutlery, and had as their
centrepiece a delicate crystal vase containing the pinkish flower of a lotus.

Representing sexual
female power the lotus was a more than appropriate symbol for tonight’s
gathering.

Also on the table, was
an array of delicate little canapés intended to whet the appetite. As the
ladies took their seats the young waitress poured their drinks, before subtly
stepping back to a space by the wall. Rosie noticed several other young women
in the same simple black dresses, stood around the perimeter of the room,
available with a simple flick of the wrist.

As the dining hall
gradually filled up, the girls tucked into the small parcels of food, giggly
and high-spirited, buoyed by the fine wine, sumptuous surrounds. It didn’t take
long before the room was full with the gentle murmur of laughing and chattering
female voices. Glancing around, Rosie noticed that their table was by far the
youngest. Many of the women were not only mature, but had the good posture,
flawless grace and general ease that came with wealth and privilege.

Just as she was making
such observations she spotted a sultry woman in an off the shoulder, slinky cherry
red dress, taking to the stage. It was tonight’s hostess, Amanda, a woman
simply oozing class in every pore of her being. She gently tapped her wine
glass with a spoon, hushing the hall and commanding the attention of the
assembled women.

“Ladies it is an
honour and a privilege to welcome you on this most special of nights. You all
do the setting and the occasion proud, each looking as fabulous as you do. When
I was asked to host tonight’s event I cast my mind back over the last ten years
and considered what the club has meant to me. Not only has it been responsible
for some of my most memorably outrageous moments,” at this point she paused
briefly for a moment with her red lips spread into a wicked grin, as if
recalling past exploits.

But most importantly
it has provided a fun, safe, luxurious environment in which to have them. In
short it has rewritten the rules for a good night out. Unshackling us from the
repressive bonds that constrain our fantasies, and unapologetically plunged
into some of the deepest, darkest, desires of the feminine mind. So I propose a
toast, to Club Divine and another ten years of unashamedly good fun.”