Archive-name: Series/linda.txt Archive-author: Master Paul Archive-title: Linda's Epic Adventures in Life Part 1 - Chapter 1 "The Meeting - No Words Required!" It was Happy Hour and the customers were just beginning to filter in from their daily routines to sit down and have a cold one and watch a little pseudo pornographic "art", go-go and strip danc- ing, ala Linda style. The Happy Hour shift started with B.J. doing her thing in her usual wanton and sexy way in the bright orangish red bikini top and bottom --- whirling around the poles on the raised stage, pole clasped firmly between her slim, white legs with a high on the pole start and a slow twirling slide to the floor of the platform. "Damn!" Linda thought to herself. "That bitch has got to be getting it off with that pole --- I'd go nuts with that thing stuffed up against my pussy twirling round like that and sliding down that god damn pole. Phew! It's no wonder they call her B.J.! That's probably all she can do after a night of THAT!" The song ended on the juke box and another started. Linda remem- bered that that was number three for B.J. and that she had to start pumping her dance songs into the box pretty soon 'cause she was up next with her set of three. She walked over to the Juke Box slowly in her see-through wrap, scanning the customers to see who she'd focus her attentions on this time up. "Boy, she thought, these guys look dead! This is goin' to be a damn tough shift!" Almost as bad as her hookin' days in Parkersburg at the 'Club' before Johnny came along and knocked her up and then slipped her out of the place. As Linda stood at the machine she thought back about Parkersburg and Chris, the Club Boss and his bitch, Hilda, who kept the girls in line. And, when they didn't stay in line, set em up for a session with Chris in the special, frightening room in the base- ment. "God," she thought, "I'll never forget the first time I fucked up and that bitch dragged me down there --- NEVER!" She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, thinking back to that terrible night when that big drunken son of bitch from the Shell Refinery over in Belpre had snuck up behind her at the bar and about twisted her tits off. When she stopped screaming at him and thought she had him calmed down some, he rammed his hand into her crotch and shoved his index finger up her ass as his thumb went up her pussy, panties and all, and started to literal- ly lift her up off the stool that way. Thinking quickly, she had grabbed a beer bottle and smashed the big dumb bastard over the head, screaming her head off the whole time. Goddamn that had hurt as he tried to close his index finger and thumb together while they were driven deep in her ass and up her cunt with her pants wrapped around them. When the beer bottle hit him, he dropped like a rock. The next thing she knew, Hilda was all over her ass, twisting her arm behind her back and slapping the shit out of her face. Hilda shoved her arm up behind her back to her goddamn neck, bent her over almost double at the waist and marched her out the back door toward the stairs leading up to the "party rooms" and down to the basement. "Oh God, if I'd known what was in that black vinyl covered room in the basement with the mirrored ceiling and about all that `equipment' sitting in the room, I'd have let the son of a bitch shove his fucking fist up my ass, never mind a little old finger and some black panties!" Linda thought. The memories flowed back with increasing detail, igniting fear in her brain and making her break out in a cold sweat (and starting the juices flowing in her pussy, much to her dismay). She stood up against the wall and let her mind race back to that night. Hilda, instead of hustling her upstairs to chew her ass out and slap her around, wheeled her past the stairs leading to the party rooms upstairs and hustled her down the stairs and into a room she had never seen before, across from the foot of the stairs, and had only heard fearful rumours about from the rest of the whores in the place. They didn't talk about it much and didn't care to, or so it seemed. She'd always wondered why. That night she found out --- in spades! Hilda stripped her house coat off her and ripped her top and panties off almost in one motion with Linda still practically doubled over standing on her feet and her arm shoved up behind her back almost to the top of her head, now. "You goddamn dumb whore!" screamed Hilda, "How many fucking times do I have to tell you I handle the assholes and you don't ever, ever hit 'em with anything unless they ask you to, UPSTAIRS! --- and then only after they've paid double for the S&M Scene trick! I'm tired of this shit from you! When I get through with you down here you are goddamn sure goin' to remember that, you little Delaware whore --- and when Chris, `The Rammer' finishes with you, after I get tired, you won't do shit unless you ask me or him first; bet on it, bitch!" About then Linda suddenly realized it was damn warm in that room. And dim. It seemed like it was a hundred and twenty degrees. As she looked around from her upsidedown position she saw ring bolts in a cloth vinyl padded floor of pure white mats with buttons holding the mat down in that upholstered look. But as her eyes wandered back and forth she saw a lot more. There were two big rings, one inside the other, one on a pivot up into the ceiling and down into the floor and the other on pivots or shafts through the first one extending out sideways either way midway between the floor and the ceiling. She couldn't see well with her god- damn hair hanging down all over, but she saw that the inside ring had little D-Rings welded to it all the way around it's circum- ference about a foot or so apart (D-Rings were something she learned about later and would never ever forget!). The two gimbaled rings (like the frames of those spinning gyroscopes they use in airplanes, boat compasses and the like) were HUGE; they were at least, if not more than, eight foot in diameter, very sturdy, just standing there one inside the other in stark stain- less steel majesty like some abstract or modern art painting. As her clothes were shredded from her she spotted another object off in the corner sitting on the pure white matted floor. It looked like a chair of some kind except that it had an outline like a human body and leather straps dangling down from it every- where she looked. The straps were riveted or bolted to the sides of the human figure outline of the chair so that they ran between heavy stainless steel rods that defined the out line of the human figure and they ran on the under and back sides of the "chair" and the buckle end and loops to insert in the buckles dangled down off the rivets or bolts on the front of the back and legs of the "chair" and the top of the "seat" and arms. "What the shit is this place," she'd thought, and "what the hell are they going to do with me?" She didn't have to wait for long to get her answer, she remembered. Hilda quickly walked her, bent double, over to the "Chair" and slammed her into the seat with her arm still crammed up to the top of her head. She slammed her other arm down on the leather straps running across in between the two stainless steel arm rods and quickly buckled one of the many straps over her forearm and another over her upper arm. She jumped to the other side of the gleaming stainless steel chair and did the same trick with her other arm. It was then that Linda looked up and saw the mirrored ceiling and black walls --- BLACK VINYL PADDED WALLS! And back behind the gimbaled huge stainless steel rings standing out in stark reality, she could vaguely see things hanging on the vinyl wall. LOT'S OF THEM. She couldn't see em well, but they looked like straps and balls and hoods and whips and all sorts of kinky shit. About that time, she remembered, Hilda slammed her lower leg into one of the "Chair's" legs in front an