SANCTUARY, New Years Eve


“This is insane.”

I stood outside the huge industrial double doors and berated myself, yet again.

“What am I doing,” I mumble as I raise a tentative hand to ring the buzzer.

New Years Eve and I’m going to some unknown club on the fringe of the meat packing district in Manhattan.  What once was the forgotten step-child is now the newest and the most chic area in the city that never sleeps.

Clutching the heavy parchment invitation with the red wax seal in one hand, I push the ancient looking button with the other.

When I’d returned to my desk at Stone & Stone Attorneys At Law and saw the envelope sitting on top with the heavy calligraphy script and my name penned beautifully across the front, I peered around to see who might have left it.  No one seemed to look like the guilty party.  They were all lost in finishing up whatever pressing workload they needed to before leaving for the holidays.

But I wasn’t the heavy hitting lawyer in the practice.  I’m a paralegal, not the superstar, Xavier Stone, the son of Alistair Stone, founder of the most prestigious law firm in all of Manhattan, savior of the rich and famous, in and out of court.

The man makes me quiver.

Xavier is ruthless and cunning, sin and carnality, and way too fucking gorgeous for words.

I’ve seen him staring at me, scrutinizing me, tearing away all my defenses, stripping me with his eyes.  The intensity of his focus, being the center of its weight left me raw and vulnerable.  I’d never felt the enormity of focus from a man like that before.  It left me hungry for more.

No wonder he’s still single at forty.  He’s saved too many asses from divorce battles, and I’ve heard it whispered throughout the office, only amongst the higher echelon group of junior attorneys, the ones who think they are Xavier’s prestigious pets, that his deviant tastes behind closed doors could teeter on a lawsuit.

The images of said tastes made my mouth water.

After finally coming out of a ten-year ho hum marriage, my husband left me to, “Experience life,” I was more than ready to indulge in my own deviant tastes.

Fucking prick!

He wasted ten years of my life, years I could have felt alive instead of merely existing, wondering if I was the problem.  I’m almost forty, single, still attractive, and my sexual appetite is stronger now than when I was in my twenties.

I’d sat down at my desk and picked up the invitation.  The only thing on the front was my name.  When I turned it over, the rich melted wax emblem with an S pressed into it piqued my curiosity.  I carefully opened it, unfolded the expensive paper, and read it.

You are cordially invited to join us

New Years Eve

For a private party at


A night of fulfillment and


Black tie masquerade

You are to be the guest of one of our

Premiere members. 

I’d been out of the loop so long, privately pulling myself along on my belly, feeling like the bottom dredges of the murkiest swamps, I had no idea what Sanctuary was.  I did what any woman would do; I texted my friend who works at the New York Post.  If you want the dirt about anything, you go to the experts that dig them up.

Are you kidding me?! That’s the playground of the rich and famous, I’ve heard it’s a sex club, but upscale.

Holy shit!  I received an invite to a sex club.  By a member, a premiere member.   

I had been shocked, appalled, and extremely excited.  I’d counted down the days until tonight.

Here I stand, shivering in a blood red velvet cape, hood pulled over my head, my bare arms fed through the armholes, with nothing else but a bustier, silk strip of panties, thigh-highs, stilettos, and lace sequined mask.

The door in front of me is slowly pulled open from the inside releasing a gust of warm air and faint music.

“Ms. Ricci, so good of you to join us,” a bear of a man in an expensive tux pushes the door wide bidding me to enter.

My heart is pounding frantically in my chest, shock washes over me in waves, and I’m on the verge of turning and running.  How did he know who I was?

I hesitate.

Do I stay or do I go?

A tidal wave of conflicting emotions take turns pounding me.

I take a step forward.  “Thank you,” I mumble.

The huge doorman holds a hand out for me.  I take it, his hand swallowing mine, and step over the threshold.

“This way please, Ms. Ricci.  There are some papers that require your signature.”

Leading me to a Luis XVI style desk with a beautiful young woman seated behind it, I can barely hear his request over the wooshing of my blood and the beat, beat, beat of my heart echoing in my head.

“What kind of papers?” I ask, ever the cautious legal representative.

“There is a non-disclosure agreement and rules and regulations.”  His reply is casual as if it’s every day I go to a sex club.

“Is there anything out of the ordinary?”  What kind of ridiculous question is that?  EVERYTHING about this is out of the ordinary.

That wins me a grin, but no reply.

I return my attention to the paperwork and bend to read them on the desk.  My cape gapes open and reveals my breasts spilling out of the matching red bustier, but there’s nothing I can do about it as I sign the paperwork.

“Your attire is perfect for this evening, should you have any concerns,” Mr. Massive tells me offhandedly.

I should be offended by the comment, but I’m not.  I appreciate it.  I did have reservations, concerned that I was supposed to wear a gown or something.  What does one wear to a sex club?  I’d googled it but I knew nothing would prepare me for this.

“Thank you,” I reply softly.

I skim through the paperwork, it’s the usual non-disclosure information.  The rules and regulations are what really gets my attention.

Touching:  no members may touch you without your consent.

Shows are for your entertainment and suggestions.

The House Safeword is Red.  Use it if you feel endangered or if you want everything to stop.  A monitor will be at your side immediately. Yellow is to be used if you need your partner to slow down or things are almost too much.  All activities are focused on safe, sane, and consensual.  But most of all pleasure.

Your band will identify your availability.

My mind is swimming, my breathing is ragged, suddenly it’s way too hot in here.

Touching.  Shows.  Safeword.  Pleasure.

What have I gotten myself into?

I scribble my name in all of the appropriate areas before I change my mind, and push the documents across the desk to the woman.  Straightening, I turn to the flesh mountain.

“And my band?” I question.

He holds out a large section of gold ribbon.  “This is for you.”

I hold out my wrist and he ties it around me.

“Is there anything else?” I ask quietly, hands balled into fists.

“No, Ms. Ricci.  I’ll lead you in now.  Would you care for an escort to familiarize you with the interior?”

I’m a little confused.  “I thought I was to be a member’s guest?”

His expression doesn’t change, but the glimmer in his eyes gives away his amusement.

“He will find you.”

I’m not sure how I feel about that.  An unknown man following me around, I have no idea who sent the invitation, what if it was my ex-husband setting me up to smear my name and set me up in a scandal.

“I assure you, the member is respectable.  You’re acquainted with him as well.”  The doorman puts me at ease.

That might be a good or bad thing.

“This way please, Ms. Ricci,” he opens the inner door allowing the music to float out.

I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and follow behind him.

Here goes nothing, Tori. 

After we pass through a long hallway, the room opens up to a luxuriously decorated space.  The dance floor is on the far side, surrounded by white columns, the bar is to my right, it’s dark heavy wood, crystal and gold embellishments, and throughout are richly furnished seating areas swathed in red velvet and gold accents.  The guests drip money, the men in tuxedos, the women draped in cloth as soft as gossamer wings.  As I look around, I notice the waitresses.  They’re ‘uniforms’ are red ribbons wrapped around their torsos with big bows over their genital area.  The bartenders are male and bare chested.  Unfortunately, I can’t see their lower region.  One thing that is obvious about them, they are all beautiful.

“Champagne?” a cocktail waitress stops and asks me.

Taking a glass from her tray, “Yes, thank you.”

My hand trembles as I lift the crystal to my red lips.

As the warmth of the alcohol seeps through me, I find the courage to explore.  Nothing seems unusual or out of the ordinary, couples dancing, people touching provocatively, although nothing too risqué.  I spy a hallway at the side wall flanked by lit sconces.  Unable to resist the temptation, I slip inside and follow the torches.  The hallway is short, but once through, I’m transfixed by the scenes.  A woman on her knees with a cock sucked to the back of her throat.  In the other direction, a naked woman sprawled out on a table getting fucked.

Lust and shock shoot through me instantly.

Directly across from me at the far end, a woman is tied to a huge X on the wall, back facing me, getting whipped by something multi-tailed.  Her moans of pleasure are clearly heard throughout the room.  I watch fascinated.  Until the man in tuxedo pants and mask drops the whip and steps behind her.  She pushes her ass out, I step closer, then closer still, I can’t stop.

“Do you need to come?” he asks her.

I feel my wetness pooling at my sex.

“Yes,” she moans.

He slips his hand between her open legs and finger fucks her.

My loins clench as I press my thighs together.

Over her moans of pleasure, I hear someone speaking to me.

“Ms. Ricci, the show is about to start.  Your presence is requested in the upper mezzanine.”

A lovely redheaded waitress drags my attention from the woman just beginning to scream her orgasm.

“Of course.  Which way?” I stammer.

“Follow me,” she’s already turned and heading through another door.

I follow her up steps and out onto a balcony.  Below is the dance floor, which is being cleared and set up with a bench, a swing of sorts, and a rolling cart covered with red satin fabric.  The waitress continues until we’re on the opposite side in a sectioned off area labelled, ‘Private’.  I watch in fascination as nude men and women take their places on the now empty floor.

I have no idea what to expect, I wouldn’t even begin to guess what’s going to happen down there.  I feel so wicked, so naughty, so indescribably excited.  There’s a certain taboo thrill about watching the acts of intimacy between others, raw and primal, gazing upon them as they get lost in pleasure.  I find myself eagerly anticipating what’s going to unfold before me, right here, for our pleasure.  I want to be shocked, but I’m not.  Not at all.  My breathing is coming heavier, my nipples are taut and sensitive under the fabric, and each rub of my panties against my now swollen clit shoots sensations straight through me.

“Ms. Ricci,” the waitress speaks to me again and breaks the hold the beautiful bodies below have on me.  I turn my attention to her, I’m sure my face is flushed with desire, and I’m grateful it’s partially hidden by the hood and mask.  She hands me another glass of champagne, “For you,” she smiles.

I take it from her, grateful as I realize my mouth is dry.

And erotic beat begins to pump throughout the cavernous space, and it hits me straight down to my core.  The beautiful nude men and women around the perimeter of the dance floor look like statues, still….and maybe waiting.

Suddenly, the crowd parts as two men in tuxedos lead a woman on to the floor.  She’s dressed in a cloak and is blindfolded.

My heart pounds erratically.

Once they’re in the center, the men press their bodies into both sides of her.  One man lifts her face to him and kisses her.  It begins slow and languid.  The other man slides his hands inside of her cloak.  His movements are hidden by the fabric, but the way her body begins to push into his hands, and her kiss becomes more demanding, grows with each passing second.

My lips burn.  My body’s thrumming.

“Do you like what you see?” A deep male voice whispers at my ear, stroking my flesh and setting it on fire.

I know that voice, I’ve imagined it so many times late at night telling me to do things I’ve never thought I’d do.  Just his voice took me to the most erotic places in the darkness, and made me soar.

Xavier Stone.

He’s the only one who calls me Vittoria.  And each time my name leaves his lips, it ignites every one of my nerve endings like his touch would to my skin.

I slowly turn my face to his.  Those eyes behind the dark mask, they’re seeing all of my secrets, every dark desire I’ve never admitted, he’s pulled them out with only a look.  I’m riveted, speechless, wondering if he is the member who invited me.

He raises a hand and grazes it along my jaw, my cheek, my lips, before he turns my face to look back at the show.

“Watch Vittoria, while I watch you.”

A heated tremor slithers through me knowing I will be Xavier Stone’s center of attention.

With my gaze fixed once again on what’s unfolding before me, I feel Xavier’s body heat penetrating me from behind.  My whole body is on fire, from both without and within.

The woman’s cloak has fallen to the ground at their feet.  She’s naked, writhing under both men’s touch.  One mouth is tantalizing her breasts as she’s still locked in the kiss with the other.  Each man moves a hand down between her spread legs, one in the front, the other in the back.  She breaks the kiss as her back arches and her body tenses.  Her hips begin to move.

They’re fucking her with their fingers, both of them, one in her pussy, the other in her ass.

My emptiness aches.

“Watch, Vittoria, while I give you your presents,” Xavier whispers roughly against my hood, pressing his mouth against my ear.  I can feel his breath on my skin.  My nipples scream to attention, hungry to feel his mouth on them.  My eyelids dip with yearning.

I’ve wanted this man’s hands on my body for so long.  I don’t dare face him in fear this isn’t real.

His big hands slips inside my cloak and push it back and over my shoulders.  My skin pulses with his touch.  After so long imagining Xavier taking me, his hands are finally touching me.  I let out a silent moan as his fingers glide down my naked arms, back up, over my shoulders, tracing my collarbone, as they come to run along the edge of my bustier over the pushed up mounds of my breasts.

Two men from the perimeter have the women’s arms held out and holding her as if bound.  Her seducers are placing clamps on her nipples, one man pulling and stretching them as the other attaches them.  Her head falls back as she moans in pleasure.

Xavier has my bustier pushed down as his fingers draw slow circles across my flesh, around my nipples, making me pant harder and harder.

One of the naked female statues brings the bench to the front of the of the woman.  Her lovers guide her to bend over it, her ass jutted up in the air, leaving her open and waiting.

I can’t tear my eyes away.

Pulling one of my hardened nipples with one hand, Xavier attaches a clamp to it before he moves to the other.  The sweet pain shoots straight to my sex, and my need begins to escalate.  When he has them both captured, he begins to tease the points.

So good, so, so good…

The sweet drug of desire seeping through me gets thicker and thicker.  My eyes are riveted on the debauchery happening in front of me while this man who’s been filling my fantasies takes my body in ways I’ve never experienced before.

The rolling cart has been brought over.  One man is preparing a plug while the other is stroking the captive woman’s bare flesh with a crop.

My skin tingles where the crop is gliding over her flesh.  My forbidden hole is pulsing, demanding the attention she’s about to receive.

Snick! The first contact of leather on her flesh.

I gasp.

Xavier tugs on the chain between the clamps, sending another thick shot of desire through me.




The man behind her begins to fuck her with the plug, slowly and deliberately.

Xavier guides my hands to hold the railing in front of me.  I grip it tightly, slightly bent over.  He pushes my cloak to one side of me, blocking anyone’s view of what he’s doing to me while leaving me open to him from behind.

The man behind her moves to her side.  Smack!  His flattened palm lands on her mound.

This is so forbidden, so erotic, watching, and waiting for more.

She throws her head, her face a mask of complete rapture.

Everything inside me coils and tightens, preparing to explode.

Xavier’s hands are gliding up the insides of my thighs until he has my panties gripped in his hands.  He slides them down my thighs until they’re gathered around my ankles.  I step out of them as he pushes my legs apart with a foot.  Then his finger slides through my wetness, and up to my sensitive clit.

Touch me.  Give me more…

Snick, snick, snick, the crop lands on her hanging breasts.

One of my nipples is caught between Xavier’s finger and thumb as his others are rolling my swollen nub between them.

Yes, so close, so fucking close…

Her seducer behind her lowers and brings his face to her drenched sex.

I tremble in anticipation, my attention glued to the people in front of me, while my body is consumed with what’s being done to it.

His tongue strokes the length of her.

I moan out loud.

He covers her with his mouth.  She screams out her release.

Xavier pinches my nipple and grips my clit tightly, squeezing it.

My whole body goes rigid as I come with a ferocious rush.

The male statues are back and guiding the woman to stand.

My heart is pounding, I can almost feel what’s going through her, anticipating what’s coming next as the last waves of my orgasm roll through me.

The statues are placing her in the swing, her legs spread wide.  I can see how wet she is even from here, along with the plug still nestled in her back entrance.  The nude men and women move back to the perimeter, now in couples.  They begin to touch.

Dark carnality.  I’m entranced, lost in it.

She is naked, tied in the swing as the two men approach her still fully dressed.

Something firm presses against my puckered back entrance.  I bend lower instinctively, granting access to my tightness, welcoming it.  Yearning for it.  Xavier returns to my clit, stroking it as he increases the pressure against my tightness.  The stimulation is intense, new waves of desire begin to unfurl within me, awakened by his expert hands.

Her seducer in front pulls his hardness from the confines of his expensive tuxedo pants.  He grips it firmly and strokes it along her lips and folds.

My deep breaths are hers, her sensations are mine.

He penetrates her, pushing his length inside her as the man behind slowly removes the item from her rear out of his way.  He’s standing behind her, his cock between the cheeks of her ass, ready to fill her once again.

I feel what I now know is a plug break through the tight ring of my ass and penetrate me.  Things I’ve never felt before begin to consume me, thrusting me back to that peak.

The couples surrounding the trio are now grinding, sucking, thrusting, fucking.

This a ceremony of decadent sin, the three in the center are their gods, and they are worshipping them with their lust.

Need.  Hunger.  Lust.  I am all of this.  And more.

The plug is pushed into me completely.

He presses the head of his shaft at her back open entrance and pushes in its entire length.

“Yes…,” I moan out loud.

I feel Xavier poised at my velvet entrance, my slickness coating his thick head.

We haven’t spoken a word.  We don’t need to.  Our bodies are in control.  The primitive hunger driving us.

Xavier removes the clamps from my nipples as he guides his cock into me.  An aching stream is consumed by savage lust.

The two men begin to move, one pulling back as the other pushes forward.

I watch her face, her hunger, her need, everything she’s experiencing is captured in her beauty.

I’m drunk with desire, consumed with a hunger so ravenous, I’m reduced to my most primitive being.

I want to fuck.

I need to be fucked.

I need it all.

Right now.

The woman is moaning, filled completely, a mouth on one breast, one man’s hands teasing the other, the other man’s fingers working her clit from behind.

She’s going to fucking explode.

So am I.

I’m so full.

Xavier’s thickness filling me, pushing me to the edge of the highest cliff with each thrust, every time he pounds into my uterus, each time he pinches my nipples, I tumble faster and faster.   A longing to be filled in my ass claws at me.  I’ve never, ever, wanted it before.

I want it now.

I want Xavier to pound my behind, like the man is doing to her, like an animal, wild and fierce.

The woman screams.  The men pound into her harder and deeper.

Xavier bends over my back, I feel the crispness of his tuxedo rubbing against me.

My head drops as I grip the railing tighter and slam myself against him.

With each thrust of his hips hitting my ass, the plug fucks me as his cock slams into my depths.

I explode.

It’s fantastic.

It’s too much.

I want more.

He growls into my ear, “Welcome to my world Vittoria.  I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

*I hope you enjoyed this short story, a gift from me to you ❤

I’m considering making it a series, SANCTUARY, let me know what you think.

If you need more, you can find all my books here, I HIGHLY recommend BLACK INK, The Complete Trilogy,  go to my author page, (click or go to the top of the page, you’ll find it there)

If you enjoyed SANCTUARY, don’t forget to click ‘Follow’ before you leave ❤

Happy Holidays, with lots of love from me to you ❤

30 thoughts on “SANCTUARY, New Years Eve

  1. Pingback: What’s New? And Some Wonderfully Crazy Bitches Getting Together. | N.M. Catalano Writer/Author

  2. Wow! Nadine I loved this and you absolutely have to turn this into a series! You’ve left me wanting more it was like fore play and now I’m all alone in my own sanctuary.


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