Club Velvet 3
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 10
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Book 3 of the Club Velvet story series. Frank Devon, his pack and the stories that come out of his strip club in the world of the WE and their 10 rules. See book 1 for background on the WE stories and the author who created them.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Saturday morning arrived bright and sunny. Frank rolled out of bed and was immediately presented with eight videos from the men in Metro City. Each of them had made a recording and each of them had taken care of a woman who came into the club seeking something that his people could provide to them.
Pick two for me. Frank said to his WE.
Here you go Frank. Jace from the big club and Caleb from the suburban club.
The video was from Jace’s perspective. A woman named Lillian approached him at the bar, where he stood chatting with two of the other guys.
“Excuse me ... are you Jace?”
“I am. How can I help you?”
“I’m Lillian. I heard you’re a...” She paused and gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “A ‘Pleasure Consultant for Female Customers.’ Only HR could come up with something so ridiculous. I heard you used to be a massage therapist. Could I hire you for a little while?”
She sounded exhausted—emotionally more than physically.
“I’d love that.” He held out his hand to her, and she placed hers in it, letting him guide her away from the others.
“What can I do for you?” he asked gently. “Something soft? Something more intimate? Sex is an option if you want it.”
She hesitated, then sighed.
“Could you just ... rub my back and hold me? It doesn’t have to be sexual. I just want to feel alive again. I haven’t had anyone touch me in a long time.”
“That would be lovely,” Jace said softly. “I have to charge you—would 120 be okay?”
“Of course.”
She immediately pulled out her wallet and handed him her bank card.
Jace passed the card to the bartender, told him it was a 120-dollar session, then returned it to Lillian.
“Right this way.”
They walked hand-in-hand to one of the private dance booths. Jace sat down first, legs apart, hands open, inviting. Lillian placed her purse on the floor and stepped into the space, settling in front of him.
Jace reached for her hands—starting there. One, then the other. His touch was firm but warm. He moved slowly up her arms, pressing gently into her muscles, easing tension as he made his way toward her shoulders.
Lillian sighed when he reached them.
“Unzip me,” she said.
Jace obeyed without a word. She slipped her dress down off her shoulders, unclipped her bra, and let it fall—though she kept the cups in place, modestly. Her back was now bare.
Jace went to work, starting at her neck, then tracing downward with strong, deliberate strokes. When he reached the curve of her lower back, he shifted focus—hands pressing into the sensitive space between her ribcage and hip bone, where tension often hides. He worked in silence, occasionally moving her arms to stretch and relax her shoulders.
Then, gently, she leaned her back against his chest.
“If you’re okay with it,” he murmured, “I can work on your front too. If you want me to.”
“Yes, please,” she said. “But gently. They’re sensitive right now.”
Jace started high, just under her collarbone, and slowly moved downward—his touch reverent. He cupped her breasts softly, using slow, circular motions, his thumbs brushing over them only as much as she allowed. He shifted his hands to the center of her chest, worked pressure points in her shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
That’s when the tears came.
Lillian didn’t sob—but the tears rolled quietly, falling onto her chest and his arms. Jace didn’t say a word. He simply held her and let her cry.
When she was ready, she turned around in his lap and faced him.
She touched his chest, then his cheeks, cupping his face. She kissed him—soft and slow—and pulled back just far enough to study his features like she was memorizing them.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed that. Thank you for caring.”
“It was my pleasure,” Jace replied gently. “If you ever need me again, I’m here. For more ... or for less.”
He helped her zip her dress, and she tucked her bra into her purse. Before she left, she leaned in and kissed him again—this time with a little more heat. Their tongues brushed, just barely. Then she handed him another twenty dollars.
She didn’t say much more—but her body moved differently now. Lighter. Like she’d remembered herself.
I hope you liked that, boss, Jace said at the end of the recording. It wasn’t sexy—but I did a good thing today. I helped someone cope. I helped her feel alive. Maybe not forever ... but at least for a little while.
Frank smiled as he watched, then responded without hesitation.
Well done, sir. She’s coming back—I can feel it. You did something special for her, and for that, I’m proud of your work.
Frank felt good about Jace, glad that his little idea had made a good impact on someone’s life.
He started the second video, it was of Caleb from the suburban club also from his point of view.
A couple entered the club, pausing to look around for a moment, then spotted Caleb and moved directly to him, both with a smile on their faces. “Caleb, I’m Tom and this is my wife Rachel. We are the ones that messaged you.”
Caleb held his hand out to Tom and to Rachel. “Let me get this straight, you are asking me to help Rachel to reconnect with ... you?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Tom said, while Rachel stood next to them as if the weight of the world were pressed down upon her.
Caleb turned to Rachel. “What do you think about this?”
She looked around, then put an arm around Tom’s arm as a sign of solidarity and support. “I’m tired. We’ve raised our kids, gotten new bodies, but something is missing. That spark we used to have back when we first met is going out, and I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to ignore the passion we used to have.”
Caleb studied them. Tom and Rachel were average for a white couple living in the big city. He had a suit on—lawyer, probably. Rachel had a casual dress on. Both were fit and generally handsome.
“I think I have an idea. Though it is going to require nudity. Are you going to be okay with that? Sort of a Rule 9 sort of thing along with Rule 8.”
They looked at each other and both nodded their heads. “That should be fine,” Tom answered.
“Good.” Caleb collected their money, handed it to the bartender who logged the transaction, and they went to a back corner of the private dancing area.
“Here is what I want you to do,” Caleb said, starting out. Rachel had sat down on the bench while Tom remained standing. “Tom, sit next to Rachel, but don’t let your knees touch.” He sat down, and they adjusted just a little so that their knees weren’t touching. “Now, both of you, close your eyes.” They tilted their heads at Caleb, but did it anyway. “Tom, I believe that you love your wife. You’ve committed years of your life to her and will keep doing it for years to come. Rachel, I say the same thing about you. You went through childbirth—twice, if the WE are correct.”
She started to tell the story, but Caleb hushed her.
“So here is what I want you to do. Tom, move your hand slowly toward Rachel. Slowly. And when you start to feel the heat of her body, stop. Don’t touch. Rachel, focus on your arm, the sensations coming from it. Tom, now move your hand up or down from there, but again, don’t touch.”
Caleb sat watching as he did just that. Rachel’s arm broke out in goosebumps as her husband moved his hand slowly up her arm. She actually shivered as something inside of her reacted to his non-touch.
“Good, Tom, very good. Take your hand back. Tom, for you, I’m going to need you to stand up and take your coat and shirt off. Rachel, keep your eyes closed.”
He stood up and slipped off his coat, then unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him bare-chested just like Caleb. Tom sat back down, but again, he moved away from her just enough so that they weren’t touching. “Rachel, well done on not peeking. I can feel how hard that was for you. Now it’s your turn. Reach out toward Tom, slowly, and find him with your hand, but don’t touch him. Tom, focus on your arm, focus on the feelings you are getting, the heat of her hand, the sensations you are getting without touch.”
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