Wednesday , August 10 2022

A Fetish Club Called Traffic Lights Fetish stories

Traffic Lights is in the basement of an old stone building just off one of the main shopping arcades in Winchester and caters for clients who appreciate some pretty extreme entertainment. Entry to the club is strictly by membership. There were stage shows and other distractions including the clientele, who were welcome to get involved so long as things didn’t get out of hand This wasn’t usually a problem as everything seemed acceptable. Sal and I had been members for some time.

We found out about the club from a friend and became members partly because we both had a curious streak and partly because the place amused us with it’s waiting staff dressed in costumes varying from school uniforms to latex and leather bodysuits. Above all there was that aspect of being a voyeur.

We had been living together for two years and had a healthy sex life. We regularly created fantasies that we would often act through but more usually just talking about them had us fucking like rabbits. Sal is athletically built with firm breasts and a generously proportioned rear – I have never heard her described as anything other than attractive. She likes to dress provocatively and enjoys being looked at – you could say she is an exhibitionist.

One night we were in town, I had been feeling particularly horny since I watched Sal’s bum as I followed her up stairs on our way out of the apartment. The image was giving me naughty thoughts particularly as I thought of the Latex waspie and silk stockings she was wearing. We decided to drop into Traffic Lights to see what was happening. We ordered drinks and found a table. It was early yet and the club was quiet, a couple of girls were dancing on the stage. One looked particularly raunchy in a cowboy outfit with only leather chaps covering her legs and the slightest hint of crotch and muscular arse through her thong as she whirled across the stage.

After the dancers finished on stage they moved around the club taking drinks orders and dancing for individuals. As the cowgirl passed our table I called for another drink. When she returned with our order she paused awhile and talked about the show. Sal had asked what training she had and how she became involved with such a place. The two of them talked for several minutes about dancing and discovered that they had both studied at the same theatre school. Emma (the cowgirl) suggested that Sal join her on the stage for a show sometime – I was somewhat disapproving and made my feelings known. Sal said that I was being overprotective and that it might be fun. Emma saw her cue and left to take someone else’s order but not before saying, “think it over,” and, “if you want to just give me a wink”.

I began to think that maybe I was being unreasonable and if Sal wanted to get on the stage then she should. Within moments Sal brought the subject up again. I was left thinking that if I stood in her way now then things between us would have become hypocritical.

“If you want to dance, then dance,” I heard myself saying and noticed the smile on her face as she knew she’d won the battle before it had even begun.

Sal was intent on not making a fuss about her victory and turned back to the stage where two guys were dancing with a girl who had started her act wearing a feathered costume and had now lost everything except her g-string which would also be off in a few minutes.

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In the darkness of the stage you could get away with anything, Sal had said it herself; you didn’t know if the room was full or empty! I had imagined what it would feel like performing on the stage, knowing that there was an audience you couldn’t see, but at the same time being aware that they could see you, every move you made and every breath you took. They could see the lust in your eyes and the flatness of the act when it wasn’t there. I often wondereed why the dancers did the things they did; did they get turned on? Did they enjoy it? Did they feel ashamed of their profession? I mean, let’s face it, often they didn’t just dance up there.

There weren’t many men dancing there but those who did were attractive and even the male punters enjoyed the dimension they brought to the shows. There were always women and always they were dressed for the part: little girls in school uniform and their schoolmarms, leather clad domatrixes, latex submissives, girls in tiny denim shorts and cut off tops, girls in uniforms, shepherdesses in ripped outfits and wolves ready to take advantage.

One of the finest evenings we spent there was filled with shows that seemed to go on all night. It started with the usual strips, girls getting naked; everyone had seen it before and it did little enough for the regulars, but it went on and on. Different girls with different partners. One of them took four guys and screwed them all on the stage then went into the audience with cum dribbling down her legs and proceeded to give head to a guy whilst finger fucking his date under the table. That was a night to remember and when we got home Sal gave me the best blowjob of my life, drinking my sperm and sucking my cock back to life to fuck her on her front then on her back and finally filling her cunt to saturation point.

Tonight was a night I wasn’t going to forget in a hurry either. Sal was now sulking; she had permission but she wanted me to ask her to go onstage. I finally suggested that she should catch Emma’s eye and see if her offer was indeed genuine. In seconds Emma was back at our table. Sal said, “I’m ready for my debut.”

Emma smiled and replied, “When I’m next on, I’ll come and get you.”

With that she went.

The lights went down and a fierce bass beat started, it was like jungle drums. The curtain rolled back and Emma was onstage, Sal gasped, probably as she realised that this was going to involve her too. Emma flung herself across the stage, the flash of panties as her chaps parted, the folds of her cunt almost visible as she moved. Then she left the stage and danced towards our table.

“It’s OK, just follow me,” she said as she took Sal by the hand and moved her back into her own domain.

I watched in silent shock as she went to the stage area. She looked spectacular in her long leather coat and underneath clad in her latex waspie. Another girl in a Nazi style latex uniform, complete with peaked cap and riding crop, appeared onstage and Emma left. The Nazi uniform gently placed a blindfold around Sal’s eyes and moved her backwards to what appeared to be a hospital trolley. She slowly pushed Sal onto the trolley. Sal’s coat fell open and the girl in the uniform visibly gasped at her beauty. I was beginning to feel concerned, they were supposed to be dancing. At the same time I was also aware that I felt aroused by the sight and sat back at my table whilst watching intensely, thinking to myself, “This’ll teach her!”

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