We agreed to meet by the intersection at 9th and 14th Street. I waited for my girl in front of the building with a triangle footprint, between 9th and Hudson. As the time passed, I wondered if she would actually show.
Waiting outside, I was amused by the mixed crowd near Manhattan’s Meat Packing District. People varied in color and style.
Some dressed wealthy and some wore leather clothing with spikes pierced into their faces.
I watched a group of transvestites pass the corner and turn down 9th
I laughed. “They’re probably going inside,” I thought to myself.
And they were.
Down the steps on 9th Avenue, just south of 14th St, a steel door was watched by a tall, heavyset black man. He wore a black suit, black shirt and black shoes. He wore dark sunglasses and patted the clothing of all guests entering the S&M establishment, otherwise known as Hellfire.
On the inside of that door was the den of every fetish imaginable; there were spanking fetishes, leg and foot freaks, dominants, and of course, the submissive. This was a place for bondage fanatics and cross-dressers. The club was a meeting ground for swingers, catering to the orgy fans and those into the group scenes.
Once down the narrow steps, and after the large bouncer patted my jacket and pants, I walked through the steel door and entered into a dungeon-type room. The floor was black and the walls were the color of red blood.
Steps before the coat room, was a red curtain draped open, and separating the back dungeons from the front entrance way.
The coat check was on the right and standing behind the counter was a pale skinned, Goth-style transvestite, with black lipstick and dark make-up. She collected coats, pocket books, bags, outfits, whips and whatever else these kinks could think of, and she exchanged them for a claim ticket.
I, on the other hand, was stood up. My girl decided not to show, and since I had no interest in giving my jacket to the coat tranny, I stepped through the silky red curtains and entered into a semi-crowded bar.
The music was dark and heavy. To my left at the entrance, a woman laid on a black table. She wore black, laced panties with a matching bra. Her arms were tied above her head, her ankles were tied together and her mouth was gagged. Her ivory colored skin glowed beneath an overhead light, which shined brightly upon her writhing body.
But she was not alone. No…
She was surrounded by well-dressed men in suits and trench coats. The men sat in steel folding chairs with blanked expressions, watching as the bound girl struggled to break free.
There was another dungeon to the left of the bar. Inside, a small crowd gathered around a rather tall man as he leaned over the frame of a motorcycle, and behind him, a tall but heavily made-up transvestite, shouted in a Spanish accent as he (or she) spanked the grown man leaning over the motorcycle.
I thought to myself, “I must be nuts to come to a place like this.”
The crowd was bizarre, but not completely. There were some that came to watch and some that came to play. I came to play, but since the girl I came to play with decided not to show up, I figured I would come in and see what would happen.
I took a spot at the bar and ordered bottled water from a stocky woman in a Harley jacket. She laughed at me. “Enjoying the sights?”
“Sure,” I said. “I come here all the time.”
“I bet you do,” she laughed. Then she took the tip I left on the bar and said, “Just wait until they get a load of you!”
This is when I turned around and standing, waiting for me to turn, were five smiling transvestites. This was not what I was looking for, though I admit I was glad to be sober. Their make-up skills were impeccable, and one could easily be tricked by their feminine abilities.
And with their attention directly upon me, I decided to move to the other side of the bar and sit next to a girl. She was short with a cute face. Her body was full-figured and her hair was tastefully done.
I sat beside her and said hello.
“Hello,” she responded.
“How are you tonight?”
“I’m good,” she said.
“You waiting for someone?”
The girl smiled, “I might be.”
I took her friendliness as sign to move in. We began to talk about the different people in the room. We joked about some of the uglier as well as the more bizarre. She looked around and warned, “You better be careful pretty boy, it seems like the drag queens are looking to get a hold of you.”
I explained, “That’s not my kind of thing.”
“So what is,” she asked.
“I like to be wild,” I said. “I like to be in control, you know? I like to tell a girl what to do and watch her do as she’s told.”
“Are you rough?”
“I can be”
“Are you good?”
“I like to think so.”
After our conversation progressed, the girl spoke in my ear.
“I love to be told what to do.”
Then she asked, “But what will you do if I don’t listen…..will you punish me?”
“Yes.”
“Will you pull my hair?
“Yes.”
“Choke me?”
“Yes.”
“Will you spank me?”
“Of course.”
“Good, “she said. “Then let’s go in one of the rooms.
I did not mind that perhaps the dim lighting hid some of her less attractive features. I did not mind that they became apparent in the other room, or that her teeth were damaged, and as we passed through a doorway with black chains dangling like a curtain, I did not mind the freaks or perverted zombies that trolled behind to watch.
The back of the club was a rock-like tunnel with small rooms, which were built in the walls. One room was filled with a man and his wife. She was on her knees and he was swinging a leather tassel and slapping it across her thick, pink nipples. She was older and stretched. He was older too and the dark tattoos on his arms had blurred from too many years in the sun.
There were a few moping jerk-offs, standing in the corridor hoping for something good to watch.
And then there was me. My girl took me into the last room on the right hand side. She closed off the room by linking a rope across the entryway and asked, “Are your ready?”
As I entered, I pulled her hair back and she sunk to her knees.
She moaned, “I knew you would be strong.”
“Open your shirt,” I told her.
“Now take them out.”
Her skin was soft and her chest was big. Her light brown nipples were thick and hard.
“Open your shirt more,” I demanded
“No,” she replied.
Reaching down, I wrapped her long brownish-blonde hair in my fist and said, “Do as you are told.”
A crowd gathered at the entryway. Men and women watched as I commanded my girl and told her what to do.
As she began to massage me, she asked, “Would you do this to me in front of my husband?”
“I’d make him watch.”
“How,” she asked.
“I would tie his hands behind his back. Tie his legs together, and then I would tie a gag around his mouth.”
“Would you shout at him?”
“I would spit at him.”
As my girl asked her series of questions, she dug her hand inside the top of her pants. I could see her hand moving beneath as she dug between her legs.
“Would you teach him how to fuck me?”
At that point, I would have said yes to anything. And though she asked me not to, I finished my spell on her chest and then I quickly returned myself, and my pants, back to the normal position.
Hellfire is gone. I heard it’s a restaurant.
……I wonder what the inside looks like now.
The Written Addiction 