Fine Print

Myra sighed as she sat down on the subway bench. The doors closed, and the train jerked to life, shaking beneath her. She pulled out her phone, re-reading her messages. Myra had talked to a lot of guys online, and it was because of this past experience, that she had doubts about this interaction.

Myra felt like she was cursed. She was a five foot, pretty brunette, with deep brown eyes and a fit figure. She thought she was very attractive. The perfect clay to be molded into the kind of girl she wanted to be. But no matter how many guys she talked to, she couldn’t find one who wouldn’t let her cum.

A curse was the only explanation! Or perhaps something about her just screamed, “go easy on me.” She couldn’t understand it. Every guy she talked to started off great. They’d tease her, they’d edge her, they’d use her to get themselves off. And then they’d always give in to her begging.

“You were such a good girl. Yes, you’re allowed to cum.” Those words were the bane of her existence. Myra loved to beg. It was one of her favorite parts of being denied. Because begging was what led to being told “no”. Myra squirmed in her subway seat simply at the thought. Some guys would resist her begging for a while, but given enough time, given enough desperation in her voice, they’d always cave eventually. 

Myra wanted to be denied. Every time she begged to cum, there was a little voice in the back of her head, hoping and praying they would say no. A duality of her mind that she craved to explore. No matter how desperate she got, she had yet to experience that voice's absence. She could always go longer. Deep down, she always wanted to go longer, but she was only human. If she was given permission to cum, she’d cave. Cumming felt incredible afterall. Probably the sensation she enjoyed most in the world. And because of that, she couldn’t deny herself. She needed someone else to take her reins. 

Something about this interaction felt a little different than the others. When most guys messaged her, they were eager. She could tell they were messaging her with one hand. They were almost frantic for her attention, excited to prove themselves, or even just use her to get off for the night and disappear. But with this new message, that was entirely missing.

“If you can make it a month without cumming, then we can talk.” That was their opener. Showing so little interest, putting in so little effort; it was like they didn’t even care if she messaged them back or not. At first she was off-put, but an element of it was exciting for her. It was a challenge. She had to prove herself for their attention. 

She tested them a few times during the month, asking if she could cum periodically. But each time, their response was short and direct. “No. If you can make it a month, then we can talk.”

Myra had finally made it a month. Curiosity forced her to keep her fingers in check. She messaged them again, asking to cum now that it had finally been a month. She expected a yes, trying to silence the disappointed voice in the back of her head. But instead, the only response was an invite to a private club, along with its address.

Myra had been to sex clubs before, although she wasn’t a big fan of them. They seemed to all have the same problem. They make money off their clients' enjoyment, and want to do whatever is possible to get them to come back again. Which with Myra’s tendency to beg her heart out, often resulted in letting her cum.

Myra squeezed her legs together, pulling them to the side to let a passenger shuffle past her and off the subway. The clench of her thighs was enough to cause a small wave of pleasure. She composed herself, fighting the urge to rub between her legs in the middle of the subway car. A month was a pretty long time for her. Since she was cursed with laxed doms, her stretches of denial rarely broke a week.

Myra stepped out of the subway, sneaking past the hustle of people. The club was only a couple blocks from her stop. 

Myra stopped in front of a nice office building. She hesitated to go in, double checking the address from her messages. Was this really it? It looked more like a financial firm than a sex club. They had better not have sent her to some random place as a prank. That’d be a humiliating conversation to have. 

“Welcome!” Myra smiled back at the secretary's greeting. The inside of the building was even nicer. The entire area exuded wealth. The lighting was elegant, the architecture was sleek. It was beautiful. But for all the obvious wealth, the only furniture in the room was the secretary's desk. Despite the vast open interior, there wasn’t even a single chair in the waiting room. 

“Are you a client, or do you have an invitation?” The secretary asked. She was an unassuming girl in a full black dress. Her hair was up in a ponytail, with simple earrings and a pair of slim framed glasses. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but she had an air of elegance to her. Her impeccable posture and welcoming smile gave the interior an even more professional appearance. Enough to make Myra a little nervous.

“Oh, um. I think I have an invitation? Or I got this message…” Myra trailed off as she grabbed her phone, opening her dms to show the receptionist the invitation she was sent. It was just a picture of a simple silhouetted girl on her knees, with a QR code in the corner. “I don’t know if this is the right place even, but is this–?”

“Yep! That’s an invitation! And yes I know, this place might not be exactly what you were expecting, but all of that is in the back.” The girl smiled, pulling out a scan gun and verifying the QR code. She smiled, satisfied with the computer's response “I do have to verify however: Have you had an orgasm since you received this invitation?”

Myra’s eyes widened. Her question felt incredibly out of place in the middle of such a professional setting.

“Um… No I haven’t.” Myra clenched her legs together, trying to hide the wetness in her panties from the world.

“Wonderful!” The secretary reached under the desk, pulling out a clipboard with a pile of papers stuck to it. It amazed Myra how nonchalant she was. As if she had just asked her the date for her dentist appointment. “Because you have an invitation and have not had an orgasm since then, our services are free of charge! I just need you to look through these forms and sign at the bottom!”

“Oh, thank you.” Myra chuckled. She’d never been to a club before where denial was accepted as payment. Definitely seemed like a good sign. “What is all this?” Myra asked, briefly looking through the dozen or so sheets of paper.

“It’s a consent form for the actions of the club. We recommend you have your lawyer present and read through each line carefully. But if not, it is just meant to allow those in back to touch you, and to keep the club out of trouble by consenting to our services for the duration of your stay!” Myra had been to a few sex clubs before and signed their consent forms. None had been nearly this extensive, but she assumed it was probably the same song and dance.

“That’s okay, it’s fine.” Myra shuffled to the last page, quickly signing it and sliding it back.

“Very good. Please head through the door on your right then. I hope you enjoy your stay!”

“Um, thank you.” Myra clenched her purse in her hand, and headed in.

The moment she opened the doors, it felt like she was stepping into another world. The walls were a deep red, connecting the jet black tiles of the floor and ceiling. A stark contrast to the professional monotone interior of the room before. But that was all she had time to take in, before a far more interesting sense demanded her attention.

A cacophony of muffled moans filled the air. Moans unlike anything Myra had ever heard. The girls were almost screaming with pleasure, with a mix of pure primal need so powerful she could hear the tears in their eyes. The moment their wails hit her ears, she felt her core instinctive contract, instantly igniting the desperation that had been slowly idling beneath the surface.

Myra nearly reached between her legs right there in the hallway, but a man rounded the corner, and approached her through the hell-lit hallway.

He was a buttoned up gentleman wearing a stark black three piece suit. He had curly brown hair, separating evenly across his forehead and ending in small twirled tips. He wore a pair of small round classes. He wasn’t particularly attractive, but he had a strong jawline, and his attire and posture gave him an air of importance that kept Myra’s attention tightly locked.

“Miss Myra, if you would please follow me?” 

“Of course.” Myra followed him through the winding hallways. Every dozen or so feet, the deep red wall would open up into a floor to ceiling window revealing a playroom. Myra had seen public playrooms before, but usually there was only one or two in the entire club. It seemed they were the only option in this club. The thought of being seen by passing customers only added to the wetness saturating her panties.

Each room had a similar scene. A naked girl, frantically pleasuring someone in a masquerade mask, oftentimes several someones. Their desire to please was almost hypnotic. They were like starving animals, unable to find any food, despite being surrounded by its aroma.

The further Myra was led in, the louder the swirl of primal moans became. The rooms full of people emptied out, but still, the moans were getting louder as they left the frantic orgies behind them. Finally, the man stopped. He pulled keys from his suit and began unlocking one of the playroom doors. Myra’s eyes wandered as she waited. Her eyes froze in place as she spotted another room in use, across the hall from hers. 

It was empty, aside from a girl bound spread eagle on the floor. There was a vibrator hanging from a gear on the ceiling, and the girl was arching her body, desperately pressing her clit into the air, chasing the vibrator with her hips as it swung effortlessly from her gentle grazes. Her body was soaked in sweat, gasping heavily through her gagged moans. 

Then the gear clicked up a few notches, pulling the vibrator out of the girl's frantic reach. She screamed into her gag, thrashing against her binds in a fruitless attempt to reach it. Her cheeks were glistening wet as tears streamed past her blindfold. Her hips bucked, frantically fucking the air in the vibrators absence, letting lose a wave of desperate moans so primal it gave Myra goosebumps. The gear clicked a few more times, slowly lowering the vibrator back down until it just barely grazed her clit once again, reigniting the girl's desperation in an explosive way. 

Myra looked further down the hallway. There were dozens of rooms. Were they all…?

“Um, are they–”

“Right this way, Miss.” The door swung open.

“R-right.” Myra took one last look down the hallway, before the pressure of the man’s gaze guided her in. She could feel a drip leak past the edge of her panties, slowly trailing down her thigh as the girl's image was drilled into her mind. Maybe this place would be different from the other clubs she’d visited.

The room was warmer than the hallway. It was filled with pristine, white tiles that clicked against Myra’s heels. The floor to ceiling windows were actually one way mirrors, as Myra turned back to view the girl across the hall again, but was only met by her own reflection. Aside from the two of them, the room was entirely empty, save a small button just inside the door, and a little hook which held two small, metallic rings.

“I’ll be your dom for the duration of your stay, Miss Myra. Unless you have any problems with that?” 

“N-no, not at all.” Myra felt excitement bubble up in her. She was way past ready to start. Her thighs were slick with need, and it took all she could just to keep from rubbing them together while she stood there.

“Good,” the man turned from the door, adjusting the cuff of his suit as he did. The moment his eyes fell on her, she felt her knees knock slightly. “Then we’ll start with removing your clothes. All of them.” 

“O-of course.”

“Of course, sir.” The man corrected. Myra nearly squeaked. She quickly placed her purse on the ground. She unclasped her dress behind her back, letting it slip off her shoulders and crumple to the ground. The moment it left her skin, Myra felt a wave of arousal. All that was left was a matching black pair of underwear and her black heels. And the man seemed perfectly comfortable staring her down in her new revealing attire.

Myra unhooked her bra. She held it in place, before biting her lip and letting it drop, revealing her perky C cups to the warm air of the room. She placed her thumbs in the bands of her panties, bending down as she began to slide them off, instantly blushing at the state of them. She pressed her legs together as she did, hoping the fabric would wipe off some of the wetness dripping down her inner thighs. The moment they were free, she kicked off her heels, standing completely exposed before the full suited man.

“Hands behind your back.” Myra squirmed under his command. She peeled her interlocked hands apart from in front of her quivering clit, and clasped her hands behind her back.

The man walked around her, as if inspecting a car upon a lot, gauging if he should buy. He walked slowly, eyeing her up and down from every new angle. Myra flushed under his gaze.

“So you haven’t cum in, how long was it again?” 

“O-one month exactly, sir.” Her voice cracked.

“One month exactly. So you came in the day you got your invitation? Is one month a long time for you?”

“Yes, sir. My record in fact.”

“Your record.” The man stopped pacing just before her. “You must be desperate then?”

“V-very, sir.” Myra could barely contain her hands behind her back. Her legs were softly shaking as she felt a drip tickle down her inner thigh.

“Show me.” The man clasped his hands behind his back. “One edge, then stop touching. You are not allowed to cum.”

Myra whimpered beneath her breath at his preemptive denial. She quickly released her clasped hands, allowing her fingers to slip between her legs. She squirmed the moment her fingers pressed her clit. It was electric. The pleasure instantly flooded her every being, quickly wetting her fingers as they rubbed frantic circles against her throbbing clit.

The edge came too quickly. Myra moaned as she hit it, barely able to pull her fingers away. Her hand clenched desperately a few inches from her clit as her breath shook, trying to still the waves of need coursing through her, causing her chest to softly bounce with each crash.

“That was quick.” The man commented. He took a step closer to her. “Again.” 

Myra moaned, returning her fingers eagerly. Every second caused them to accelerate, until only a few seconds in she was frantically rubbing, and a few seconds after, pulling them off entirely.

“Mff please may I cum, sir?” Myra whimpered, battling the will of her body as she held her fingers an inch from her clit.

“No you may not.” Myra moaned. Her body ached at his response, but the little voice in the back of her head buzzed with joy. “...Again.”

Every time he told her “no”, she felt her knees get a little shakier, and her willpower a little weaker. The man kept her edging, over and over, until Myra could no longer stand. She crumpled to her knees, with her hand shaking just above her clit.

“Again.” Myra’s hand was stuck in place.

“I-I c-can’t sir. I-I’ll, I’ll cum. Please no more, p-please just let me cum, sir.” The man stood towering above, hands still clasped behind his back as he peered down on the quivering, panting girl beneath him. He took a breath.

“46 edges. Not bad.” He turned and walked to the door, grabbing the two rings hanging on the hook. He unclasped them and offered them toward Myra. “If you are too desperate to cum, put these on.” 

Myra looked up at him. Seeing them up close, they were two metal rings with various glowing bulges that ran their circumference. Their inside was lined with a black, leathery padding. They were bracelets.

“Do you want to cum? Put them on. Now.” Myra’s body instantly responded. She grabbed the rings, snapping them shut around each wrist. They held firm to her skin, but the padded liner made them comfortable, and perfectly balanced the line of not too loose, nor too tight.

“Put your hands behind your back.” Myra obeyed. The man pulled out a device from his suit. The moment he pressed a button, the bracelets buzzed to life, instantly latching together with a powerful magnetic rush, extracting a soft grunt from the unsuspecting Myra.

“Since you are too desperate to edge yourself anymore,” The man kneeled between her legs, rolling up one of his suit cuffs. “I’ll take over.”

Myra’s eyes widened with realization as he reached between her legs.

“Please, no more. Please just let me cum!” The man’s fingers felt like live wires as they trailed up her inner thigh. He softly circled his fingers around Myra’s slit, easily wetting them with her copious amount of desperation. Myra moaned as he slipped two fingers inside her.

His fingers felt like magic. Her back arched as he curled them within her, pressing up against her desperate g-spot, swollen with need. Then he curled his palm over, pressing it down against her clit.

“Pleeease!” Myra groaned as he began pressing his palm and fingers against her, rubbing small circles with every squeeze like he was kneading dough. Her thighs clenched around his arm, but he effortlessly held her legs apart. He was far stronger than she imagined his physique beneath the suit.

She melted in his hands. It only took seconds under his extraordinary skill to barrel her towards the edge.

“I can’ttt, fffuu–m cummin–” The man's hand disappeared. Myra’s hips thrashed from the edge, but the man pressed a firm hand against her pelvis and held her to the ground. “PLEASE!! Goddd pleaseI let me cumm!!” Myra wailed, straining her hands against the magnetic prison behind her back.

“No.” Tears welled in her eyes. The little voice in the back of her head had never been so quiet before. She needed to cum. More than she knew was possible. His hands returned between her legs. Myra moaned, biting her lip so hard it hurt. Her toes curled and thrashed against the floor as he brought her to the edge again. She tried to hide it, but the moment she hit it, his hands vanished regardless. Like he could see through her.

Over. And over. The man brought her to the edge. Myra lost track of the times she nearly came. The times she pleaded and begged to cum. The times he said no. The little voice in her head hoping for another ‘no’ got quieter, and quieter. The need of her body drowned it in desire, and finally, like a flip of a switch, it was off.

Myra screamed, frantically pulling her arms around her body, straining against her cuffs as she reached for her clit.

“I can’t! Stop! Let me cum I hav–I have to cumm!!!” The man caught her cuffs, using them as a leash as he pulled her hands from her clit and pressed the cuffs to the ground. He reached into his suit and pulled out the device. As he pressed another button, they latched to the floor, pinning her arms in place behind her back.

“No!!” Myra writhed, frantically shifting back and forth around her pinned arms, searching desperately for any way to press her clit against anything! But there was no way she could. 

The man stood up, straightening his suit as he watched the naked squirming girl in front of her fight tooth and nail for the release she desired.

“We take special care in choosing who we invite here.” The man spoke, barely audible over Myra’s endless stream of begging. “We choose women who really crave denial. But can’t seem to get the level they desire in their day to day life. And in this club, we believe denial only really starts, once you genuinely need to cum.” 

The man walked over to the wall, pressing the sole button by the door.

“And we discovered, once women hit that point of genuinely needing to cum, they will do anything for it. Please anyone for it. They become this… unquenchable thirst. This bottomless well of pure desperation and need. And that makes them… very profitable.” 

The door opened up, and two burly men in suits carried in what looked like an examination chair and a bag full of stuff.

“You remember those men and women in the front rooms? In the masquerade masks? Well, those are our clients. Exorbitantly rich and powerful people from all manner of private industry and government. And they pay us ludicrous amounts of money in order to maintain a stock of denied and ungodly horny women, eager to please them in any way they see fit.”

Myra’s eyes widened as part of his words finally seeped through her relentless plea for release.

“N-nno no you can’t!! You h-have to let me go! I need to cumm, I-I need to go home and cumm you can’t!!!!”

“Oh no, we definitely can.” The man responded as the men began latching the chair to the ground. They pulled out two more of the magnetic cuff rings, latching them around Myra’s flailing legs. “Didn’t you read the contract you signed coming in here? It was for a 1 year, live-in experience. Slightly shaky, I know. But with so many of our clients as powerful lawyers and government officials, shaky is all we need.” 

The men unlatched her from the floor, lifting her up and placing her in the chair. Even in their arms, Myra didn’t waste the opportunity, frantically trying to grind her hips against their arm or chest or anything she could reach, but the men seemed prepared for it, deftly holding her back from letting her clit get even the softest touch.

They placed her in the chair, moving limb by limb to latch her in place. The moment her cuff got close enough, it magnetically snapped the fixture in the chair, holding her with far more force than she could ever muster.

“Please!! Please fine I’ll stay a year I don’t care idontCARE just PLEASE let me cummm!!!”

“We can’t do that. It would be a betrayal to our clients, lessening the merchandises’ desire to please. But don’t worry. Once you are allowed to service clients, if you do a good enough job, they might give you permission to cum. All you have to do is truly impress them with how eager and desperate you are to please.” 

The men ran straps around her thighs and hips, ratcheting her down until she couldn’t budge her hips a single millimeter, holding her clit perfectly still. Then they reached into the bag, pulling out a mechanical arm with a feather on the end. Myra’s eyes shot wide with fear.

“PLEASE DON’T!!! I can’t take it! I swear! I’ll die just please please PLEASE let me cum!!!!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve driven women far past your point of desperation, and no one’s died. You’ll see.” The men attached the mechanical arm to a fixture between her legs, angling it up and gently resting the feather against her clit. Myra whimpered as it touched her, straining to buck her hips against it, but they may as well have been set in concrete. The man reached into his suit and pulled out the device. The moment he pressed a button, the feather flickered to life.

Myra screamed with desperation. The feather lightly flicked back and forth, so gently she could barely feel it, and randomly sporadic so she couldn’t become accustomed to it. But with how desperate she was, even the gentle graze of a feather was just barely not enough to push her over.

“Noooongghhggff!!” Myra’s protest morphed into a guttural scream as she thrashed her chest about, hoping to escape. Or hoping some of the movement would make its way to her hips and allow her cum. Or hoping for anything!

The men reached inside the bag and pulled out a gag and blindfold. Myra tried to escape the burly men’s hands, but they had no problem fitting her with both.

“All is not lost though.” The man leaned in close to her. “With our clubs incredible resources and vast clientele, we can continue your life exactly as it is. You will be paid your current job's wage. We can invent any excuse to give you a hiatus from your job, giving it back to you once your contract is up. Hell, we’ll even have someone go to your apartment and water your plants. The moment your contract is up, you can step back into your old life like nothing ever happened.” 

Myra was whimpering through her gag, barely able to listen with the feather flicking mercilessly.

“And if you recall, your contract is only for 1 year. Law dictates a limit to how long we can offer an initial contract. But if we renew a contract, the new duration can last 1 year longer than the previous.” 

The man leaned in closer, whispering into her ear.

“I want you to hear this while you’re still fairly cognizant. The moment your year contract is up, you can leave and cum to your heart's content. Experience a mind blowing orgasm that you have never experienced before, and then step right back into your previous life. But one week before your contract ends, I’ll come back with an offer.

“You can renew your contract for two years, and right then and there, I’ll flip a coin. Heads, you stay denied and start your next contract without so much as a ruin. Tails, you get to cum, and finally feel that incredible release before your contract starts again.”

Myra let out muffled moans against her gag. The man continued.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? Why renew your contract and gamble for an orgasm, when you could simply wait one more measly short week, and guarantee an orgasm yourself? Well here’s the thing. After a year with us, I’ve never met a girl who didn’t roll the dice.” 

The man stood up, straightening his suit as his two lackeys threw her pile of clothes in a bag.

“As stated in your contract, whenever you aren’t servicing clients, you’ll be in one of these rooms, experiencing a new and exciting way for us to drive you ever closer to the edge, making you more and more desperate and eager to serve our clients.” 

The man began walking to the door, leading the two burly workers behind him.

“And unfortunately for you, our club dictates that new merchandise can’t service clients until they’ve been properly broken in. That takes a week.”

The man closed the door, leaving Myra thrashing against her binds and moaning against her gag, feather flicking endlessly against her throbbing, desperate clit. Her desperate wails added to the cacophony of others filling the hallway.

–

“Excuse me, sir?” One of the burly lackeys asked. The suited man turned towards him. “I know I’m new here, but if the clients are allowed to give the girls an orgasm if they please them, how do we maintain the arousal of the girls?” The suited man adjusted his glasses.

“I lied. If a client allows a girl to orgasm, their access to the club is revoked. It lowers the quality of the merchandise for the other clients. Even so, I tell every girl that clients are allowed to make them cum. That way they are that much more eager to please. That much more desperate to do better next time when they weren’t quite given the orgasm they thought they deserved with their previous client. What they don’t know won’t kill them, but it will serve our clients all the better.”

The man reached into his jacket, pulling out a coin, Twirling it in his hands.

“Just like the fact that we flip with a double head-ed coin.”

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Hope you guys enjoyed this one! I know this isn't the next chapter of Test of Fate, but I got distracted haha. I actually started writing this maybe a year ago? Someone posted a confession on the discord that read something like, "even though i really want to cum, I wanted to be edged until i break and reach down to make myself cum. But then be stopped, tied down, and made to keep edging anyways." And I thought this was crazy hot and it just stuck with me lol, so if the person who wrote that anonymous confession is in here, this ones for you! xD

But I had forgotten about this story for forever, until someone else in the discord server mentioned something about "getting tricked, since you didn't read the forms carefully" kind of situtation, and i thought to myself, "Oh, I had a story called Fine Print, I should link that to them!" But then I couldn't find it, and realized I never finished it and just forgot about it lol.

Long story short! Here is a one shot that was on my mind. Hope you all enjoy it, more serialized content coming after!