The Original Sin was Confidence Pt. 01

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*All bodies are beautiful, this is written in the voice of one who has yet to learn that about themself*

All characters are over 18.

An attempt to save a relationship creates a new one.


“Oh yeah, daddy likes that.”

I attempted not to retch outwardly at the whispered words and instead focus on finishing the handjob as quickly as possible. My boyfriend leaned against the alley wall, his semi hard cock in my hand, his eyes closed. I tried not to think about what he was imagining. I tried even harder not to think about what was going to come next. Most importantly, I tried not to focus on what I was currently doing. It doesn’t make for a great handjob, but as it is said, a handy j is a handy j.

“Spit on it, slut,” he breathed. I dutifully tried, despite my dry mouth. The spit fell slowly, a long strand that wouldn’t break from my lips. I broke it with a finger. It was the least sexy thing I’d seen in a while, and that was saying something. His eyes were still closed, and his moans grew slightly louder with the increased lubrication.

“Oh god,” he moaned, “I’m gonna cum, daddy’s gonna cum, oh, shit, shittttttt…”

I aimed his cock away from me and jerked as hard as I could. A slight dribble came from the tip and dripped pitifully onto the ground. I let go immediately, wiping my hand on my tan, ankle length trench coat.

“Mmmmm,” he said, opening his eyes and closing his fly. “Good start to the night.”

Oh god, it’s only starting, I thought as we exited the alley. You can do this, May. It’s his kink, not yours. Just go in, have a few drinks, watch him get excited and try to get hard, and then go straight home and four hours sleep before work. Basically a regular Tuesday night with a venue change. You can handle that, right?

That’s what I kept telling myself as we walked up to the front doors of the club, the words “Original Sin” reflected in the puddles we carefully avoided as we stepped into the line. I felt my teeth chatter and wondered if it was the cold or the nerves. The trench coat blocked the wind but the exposed skin beneath still felt the chill in the late autumn air. I had a quick flashback to my freshman year of college, a dumb frat house party, a lame lacy bodysuit and bunny ears that passed for a costume, and a dead car battery. If Seth hadn’t been there…well, they may have had to amputate a few of my preferred body parts from frostbite. He’d been my knight in shining armor, almost literally. His lame cardboard and felt Game of Thrones costume was peak 2012 but at the time had made him seem like someone I could have a good time with. I almost snickered at the thought, but stifled it. Almost ten years of dating could ring the charm out of a guy like a used up sponge. We’d be lucky to get an orgasm a year out of each other the way we were going. My response was to eat. His was to get…well, not creative, unless your idea of creative is to just try ideas 4-6 of any list Cosmo has ever put out every Tuesday for almost a decade. If that was the case, Seth was fucking Picasso.

I glanced at him. Perhaps I was being unkind. He could be sweet, when he wasn’t being a complete ass, and he could be kind, when he let his guard down. Unfortunately the more distant we became the higher his walls got. This new “super dom” persona he had been trying out was the empitome of this deflection. I wondered if other people could see through it as well. He was attractive enough, tallish, thin, and pale, with badly styled brown hair he clearly put too much time into. He was wearing a light brown leather jacket over a black t-shirt and jeans. He might as well have been wearing sunglasses, dusk be damned, and complete his James Dean by way of Michael Cera look. His expression, meant to look cool and at ease, instead looked rather pained.

I glanced down at myself rather ruefully. It’s not like I could pretend to be any more at ease myself. Being petite, green eyed, black haired, tattooed, and perky in all the right places had been a good look in high school and college, but that confidence had been drained along with my passion for Seth. I was uncomfortable with my body, and had been since my eating my feelings had really started to show. The scale had gone between 120 and 130 for most of my young adulthood but when things started to sour with Seth it began to take the fast lane to 170. I was convinced some girls only gained weight in their boobs, and I had resolved to hunt down and kill them if the opportunity presented itself. I was larger, to put it in the terms my mother had begun to use passive aggressively at holidays, and short, the worst combination when you factored in my B-cups and narrow hips. There was nowhere to hide the fat, to hide the stretched out butterfly tattoo on my thigh, and no amount of body positivity had helped me come to terms with this new physical status quo.

Seth had taken advantage of that in a way. He’d seen my looks in the mirror, the handfuls of belly fat raised and then dropped with kurtköy escort an unsatisfying noise as it jiggled back into place, and begun to make the comments. “Maybe you need a way to raise your confidence,” he’d suggested more than one time. Then he’d started to buy the outfits. How he knew my size in a corset I don’t know, but it hadn’t helped much. Then he started to make more comments, ones that at first felt self effacing but soon I realized were leading. “Maybe I’m not enough for you,” he’d say. “Maybe you need other people to build that confidence.” The amateur boudoir shoots became albums on reddit pages, my face carefully blocked. I don’t really know why I agreed. I never checked them myself, never read the comments. It was more about Seth showing me off. Advice for the guys reading: if you want your girlfriend to feel sexy in her body, don’t treat her like a prize pig, m’kay?

Either way, it started to make him more confident at least. He started buying more things, ropes, handcuffs, collars, leashes, clamps. Honestly it wasn’t much different than the sex had been for years. He did whatever he needed to to cum and I lay there and let him. Being tied up just gave me an excuse to not put in any effort.

Then he broached the idea that retroactively made me realize what this had all been about. “There’s this club,” he said, “On the south side, big place but very discreet. You can go there and play in public, with other people around, they can join in but of course I wouldn’t want that. I just want you to see how sexy you are, how much people want you, like I want you.”

Why did I agree? I was asking myself the same thing. Truth be told, I think I was as desperate to feel something as he was to fulfill this kink. There wasn’t much left to lose. Unlike my prudish younger sister, I had never been that inhibited, just ask any of my high school boyfriends or girlfriends. I used to love playing truth or dare and baiting guys or girls into asking for more and more outrageous things. Whether it was kissing a girl or sucking their cock, I did it. It gave me a thrill to see the look on their faces when I gave them what I wanted. So maybe I was submissive, and maybe a bit of a slut, but Seth couldn’t conjure the same feeling that a high school boy could. That was a whole new level of depressing.

Either way, we were here now. I’d used the excuse to dress up to put some time in my makeup and hair, going for a glam look with curls, bright red lipstick, and subtle eyes. Under the long tan coat I was dressed in stockings, crotchless panties, a cupless corset, and a leather collar, the lead to which was in Seth’s jacket pocket. He probably had a few other toys stashed around his person, I didn’t know, and frankly didn’t really care that much. I just wanted to get it over with so Seth could realize that public sex wasn’t for him and go home. I was pretty sure his average sized dick, which could barely get hard if I so much as glanced in its direction, could perform in a sweaty club full of 24/7 committed sexaholics. If by some miracle it did, I could at least maybe have a half orgasm. Who knows. Either way, I didn’t stand to lose much.

The guy at the front door looked at Seth and I swear he rolled his eyes a little as he approached.

“Name?” he asked.

“Seth, Seth Gaines,” Seth said in a voice that sounded like he was both trying to lower his register and slow his speech at the same time. In his head I’m sure it sounded cool. Out loud it sounded a bit like he was having a stroke.

The bouncer “Not on the list,” he said and waved his hand. “Step aside.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Seth said quickly in his normal tone as the next group started to step up. “I know Blake, he told me about this place.”


of Original Sin, Mr. Gaines,” the bouncer said, without looking up from his clipboard, “is we don’t use real names.”

“But you just said my…”

The bouncer glanced up again, and for the first time seemed to notice me. He leered a little and I felt myself blush from my cheeks to my chest, which was partially visibly beneath the coat. I noticed him as well. Bald, black, tall, muscular, and wearing a t-shirt and jeans despite the cold air. Unlike Seth, the t-shirt and jeans look really fit him.

“Tell you what,” the bouncer said, looking me up and down instead of at my boyfriend, “You have your friend here open her coat and maybe I can get you in.”

“No problem,” Seth said, and turned expectantly to me. “Come on May,” he said, again in his stroke-tone that he clearly thought was tough and/or seductive, “Show the nice man your body.”

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and go home to watch bad tv with bad wine and good ice cream, but the thought of this strong, tall, clearly unimpressed man seeing my body did intrigue me. No one but Seth and a few pervs on reddit had seen me naked in a long long time, and I hadn’t ever bothered to see what the pervs had said. levent escort Maybe Seth was right. Maybe this would build confidence. I slowly reached down and undid the buttons on my coat, and then undid the belt around the waist. I opened the coat so just the bouncer could see in.

He stared for what felt like an eternity, taking it all in, from my pale, stocking clad legs to my neatly trimmed bush all the way up my exposed tits and then finally meeting my gaze. I tried to hold it, channeling the brazen slut who had gotten kicked out of a college hockey game for flashing the opposing team’s goalie. When I reached for her, there she was, like riding a bike. I parted the coat more, increasing the chance someone else could see, and bit my bottom lip just slightly. He chuckled, then shook his head.

“She can come in,” he said. “You, Mr. Gaines, cannot.”

“What the fuck?” Seth said. “You said…”

“I said maybe,” the bouncer said. “Next time hear the fine print. What do you, say, Ms…?” He paused, clearly addressing just me now.

“May,” I said, struggling with the word as my teeth chattered again. “May Stevens.”

“What do you say, Ms. Stevens?” the bouncer asked.

“Fuck no,” Seth spat, his face red. “May, come on, we’re leaving.”

“Oh, does the lil dommy think he can control this hot piece of ass?” the bouncer said, still not taking his eyes off me. “That’s cute.”

“Why you fucking…!” Seth yelled, and took a step forward, raising his fist.

The bouncer moved so fast I could hardly believe it from a man his size. He had his arm around Seth’s throat and his fist wrapped around Seth’s wrist before he could finish his insult. Someone in the crowd cheered, and another yelled something about someone’s mother that I couldn’t make out, but I was focused on the display in front of me.

Just then, the door to the club opened. A tall, slim man stepped out, sharply dressed in a light blue suit, his hair styled in the way Seth could only his dreams achieve. He was hispanic, with black hair and dark eyes that nevertheless were as piercing as any baby blues I’d seen. He looked from the bouncer, to Seth, to me. I realized in horror I was still flashing him and quickly let go of the coat, allowing it to fall back loosely covering my front. The man smiled and I felt myself, even in the cold, melt a little.

“Spirited lot tonight?” the newcomer asked the bouncer, still looking at me.

“Nothing I can’t handle Mr. Bernal,” the bouncer said, and the humor in his voice was gone, replaced with a respectful tone.

“Good,” the man identified as Mr. Bernal said. “Did this man attempt to damage my property?”

“Tried, failed,” the bouncer said. “Should I call the police?”

Mr. Bernal smiled, and I immediately could tell he found the suggestion amusing. “I think our friend here can see reason,” he said. “Release him.”

The bouncer let Seth go. Seth let out a hacking cough and doubled over, spitting on the ground. Mr. Bernal curled his lip in disgust.

“Tell me, boy, why don’t we come to an…arrangement,” he said. He glanced at me and I swore he winked. “I won’t call the police, and you allow this charming young thing to come in and spend some time as my personal guest.”

Something about his presence was intoxicating. It awakened something in me I hadn’t felt in years. I couldn’t be robbed of this feeling so soon. Despite myself, I found myself playing along. “Do it, Seth,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Listen to the lady,” Mr. Bernal said. “No one needs to spend tonight in a cell.” He looked at me. “Unless they want to, of course.”

Seth looked at the Bouncer, at Mr. Bernal, and then finally at me.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine, fuck it, whatever, just let me go.”

“Say please,” Mr. Bernal said.

“Please let me go.”

“That’s better.” Mr. Bernal turned to me and offered me his hand. “If you’ll follow me, Ms…?”

“Stevens,” I said, taking it automatically.

“Ms. Stevens,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get you warmed up.”

I didn’t know it at the time, as he led me into the club and I stole one last fleeting look at my humiliated boyfriend, but I would never see Seth Gaines again.

Original Sin was the quietest sex club you’ve ever been in. Instead of a massive flailing orgy of limbs and fluids, it more resembled what I imagined an old school gentleman’s club would have been like. Mr. Bernal led me past many rooms, all of their doors closed. I’d expected to see everything going on all at once, whips, chains, St. Andrews crosses, Vietnamese Shame Wheels, a veritable buffet of hedonism. Instead I saw beautiful wood paneled walls and carpet. Can you have an orgy on the carpet?

I was just contemplating what kind of cleaner could remove squirt the best when Mr. Bernal stopped in front of a pair of doors.

“Before we enter,” he said calmly, “I don’t want you to feel pressure to do mahmutbey escort anything you’re not committed to. I don’t want you to misunderstand my intentions, I brought you here because he was clearly drunk and you clearly did not want to be here. I’m not going to attempt to coerce you into anything.”

I was so on edge and nervous I didn’t have the emotional energy left to process why what he said made me feel slightly disappointed. He continued.

“I’m not here to white knight you, just to give you what I have to offer: a space to wait out his inebriation and anger and perhaps do some thinking. There are two doors here.” He waved a hand at them. “The one on the left is to an office that’s currently unoccupied. You can wait here, then use the phone to connect to me and I’ll have a car sent for you. The other is…well, let’s just say we both know the kinds of things you’ll see in that one while you wait. Or I could have a car sent now.” He smiled warmly, with no hint of malice or ulterior motives. “The choice is, of course, yours.”

I felt a wide array of emotions in the split second it took me to answer. Fear, frustration, anger, betrayal, all of it targeted at Seth. I didn’t know where this night was heading, didn’t know I’d already on some level jettisoned him from my life, but when I said, “The right, please,” I realized it was over.

He nodded. “I see. You can always come back to this office if you need to. When you want the car, just find one of my employees and tell them to contact Hector for you.” With that, he turned and opened the door.

Down the rabbit hole we went, and entered a large, semi crowded dark room lit in typical club style. On each wall, even the one we entered through, there was a stage, although none were currently occupied. The largest stage had a long catwalk, with what I assumed to be stripper poles every few feet. In the center of the room was a bar with a small crowd of customers.

The stages were not designed to be the only places your attention would be drawn to. Scattered around the room there were cages with girls inside, dancing. Unlike your typical club, though, they were totally naked, and even more surprisingly, not all skinny stacked white 20 year old blondes. There was a diversity in bodies, from age to race to height to weight, that I’d never dreamed possible at a place like this. It was a veritable menagerie. There were even a few men and people who appeared to have transitioned, with just as diverse body types. Many of the guests were also of different sizes and shapes than your typical Barbie/Ken types you see in most mainstream media, and most were either fully nude or in some form of sexually provocative attire. It almost went without saying many were engaged in sexual activity, lounging on couches and giving handjobs, fingering, oral, but only a few were having penetrative sex. There were also what looked like stations for more intense bondage sessions, most of which were being watched by employees. You could tell they were employees because they were wearing all red, whether that be latex, lingerie, or a bow around their necks and nothing else.

I must have stood there for a full five minutes, unmoving. Mr. Bernal stood beside me patiently as I took it all in. “Do you like it?” he asked, and I heard genuine concern in his voice. “If you’d rather go…”

“No, no,” I said instantly. He raised his eyebrows. “I’d…I’d like to stay.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said. “It’s good to try new things.”

“Hector!” a voice from the crowd called. “Wonderful to see you grace your own den of hedonism.” A woman emerged from the crowd to stand in front of us. She was probably about my age, but the only indication that she wasn’t 19 was her face. I knew that, because I could see pretty much everything else. She wore garters and a cupless corset like I was, but if it was a “Who wore it best?” sort of deal she’d win hands down. She was tall, with massive tits, there was no other word for them. Her body was toned, her hair blonde, and her makeup impeccable. She wore no panties at all and so I had a full view of her fully waxed pussy. She was exactly the type you expected to work as a dominatrix in a sex club, and I instantly felt less comfortable.

“Hello Georgina,” Mr. Bernal said smoothly, as if her current dress was not at all surprising to him, “I didn’t know you worked tonight.”

“I got bored,” Georgina purred, but she wasn’t looking at Mr. Bernal. She was looking at me, up and down, very obviously. “I wanted some fun.” She finally turned to look at him. “Care to join?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to escort a guest. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

“I just…” she began, but Hector pushed past. He led me through the crowd to a small island of couches near the bar, and waved at a blonde woman, younger than me, maybe mid twenties. She was dressed in a sports bra and nondescript panties, which didn’t seem like proper sex club attire to me at all. Her hair was held up in a high pony tail and she wore no makeup at all. She was gorgeous nonetheless, with long legs, the body of an athlete, pert boobs, and a toned bubble butt.

“Hector!” she said in a tone of voice that I imagine champagne would have if it could speak. “You’re back! Meredith’s just arrived.”

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