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Fantasy
Maker
A BDSM Erotica
Short
The House of
Decadence Series, Book One
     
    The House
of Decadence looks just like any of the other Gentlemen’s Clubs on
St James’, London, but it’s not.
    From the
outside it is a grand Georgian building, imposing in white stone,
with Doric columns, and is several stories high. It has a solid
black wooden door with brass fittings, and black and gold railings
surround the front.
    It is a
members only club. But unlike the other Gentleman’s Clubs in the
area, it does not consist of waiters serving warm brandy, cracked
leather armchairs in front of log fires, and lots of men sitting
around enjoying the peace whilst reading the daily newspapers. Not
even close.
    It is in
fact a very upmarket, exclusive club, for much more unusual
tastes.
    We cater
to your secret fantasies.
    Every
Friday night a party is thrown, each week with a different theme.
The parties are supposed to be the height of decadence; it would be
closer to the truth to say they are the height of
debauchery.
    The owner
of the club is Jeremy Ferrini, he owns a chain of upmarket hotels
and one or two nightclubs. The other girls jokingly call him my pet
billionaire. It’s true that if there is anything I think the club
needs, he buys it for me.
    I’m Stephanie Menage and I manage the place, and I’m also one
of the girls in The House of Decadence. Officially we are called
“The Fantasy Makers”, but the regulars call us The Whores of Decadence.
    As jobs
go it is extremely well paid. But it has to be; client’s demands
can be extremely bizarre and are often rather taxing.
    I started out as a regular Call Girl. A high-class escort
through an agency. When I got the hang of the job I moved agencies.
This time to La Crème de la Crème, which catered only for very
exclusive and very rich clients.
    When men
pay a great deal of money for something, they tend to want it to be
exactly to their specifications, and I began to notice some very
peculiar specifications.
    I was comfortable with the generic BDSM. I had no problem
playing submissive or dominant. I didn’t mind being handcuffed or
blindfolded, or giving someone a good sting with a cat o’nine tails . But I
began to notice that the more exclusive and well paying the client,
the more they felt free to request their own personal
fantasies.
    Some were
simple and easy, and some were, needless to say, kind of
kinky.
     
    It
started when I was at the home of one of my regulars “on
call.”
    Jeremy
Ferrini liked pretending to be a Roman Emperor.
    Together
we would soak naked in his jacuzzi and I would feed him grapes and
wash him in the manner of a slave girl.
    “So I
guess you think I’m a bit weird, liking this kind of thing?” He
asked me.
    I smiled.
“This is actually pretty tame. You wouldn’t believe some of the
things myself and my colleagues get asked. You would think most men
just want a bit of spanking and some lesbians, but when you really
push their buttons there are all kinds of fantasies to tap into.” I
began to tick off on my fingers, “In just the last few months, I’ve
been a vampire, a dungeon keeper, a nanny, Catwoman, room service,
a rubber doll, and a table setting.”
    “A table setting? ” Jerry looked at me
quizzically.
    “Yes, talk about catering to fantasies.” I laughed. “A client was having a
dinner party and he had some very important guests over from the
Far East that he wanted to impress. Apparently when he visited them
they laid on some, um, unusual diversions for him, so he wanted to do something
for them. The brief he gave me was simply to be a centrepiece on
the buffet table. I lay down naked in the centre of this long
trestle table and his chef then artfully adorned my body with food
and piled the rest up around me.”
    “That
sounds fantastic!” Jerry was practically licking his lips at the
thought. “Could you do that for me sometime?”
    I rolled
my eyes at him. “If you like.”
    He
grinned, “So did they enjoy it?