The Pleasure Box
Copyright© 2025 by Jepasch
Chapter 2: A Wet Dream
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 2: A Wet Dream - Jana is an art student and urgently needs money. As a dancer, she is no good, or so Ralph, the strip club’s manager, claims. But instead of throwing her out, he shows her his “Pleasure Box”, a device meant to give his private club a unique selling point and at the same time his secret passion project. Only, the project is on the verge of failure. Jana and Ralph both have something to lose. Are they each other’s salvation?
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction BDSM Humiliation Light Bond Exhibitionism Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Squirting Voyeurism Public Sex Porn Theatre
When Jana woke up the next afternoon, her head was pounding. She’d had a lot more than two drinks—mainly because several customers at the bar had invited her for one.
It took a moment before she remembered how she’d gotten home. She hadn’t drunk that much alcohol in a long time. It was hard to recall clearly. Had anything happened? Had they made out? No—probably not. And she hadn’t invited him into her apartment either. Ralph himself had driven her home after closing.
Still hungover, she climbed out of bed and freshened up a little before making coffee. After she drank it, she felt slightly better. Then her stomach reminded her that she was hungry.
She opened her fridge—and found it almost empty. At least she still had a cup of yogurt, which now had to serve as breakfast.
She desperately needed money. And a job.
Then she remembered she’d earned some money yesterday. Quickly she grabbed her handbag and checked her wallet. The cash was there. And with it, reality came crashing back in an instant: the failed test. The rejection. At least with the money she wouldn’t have to starve for a few days. But it wouldn’t last long.
As she slowly spooned up the yogurt, she replayed yesterday in her mind—more precisely, the test of the box. What had gone wrong?
On impulse she pulled out paper and a pen and began sketching. As an art student, it came easily to her to draw the box from memory with just a few lines.
She forgot her headache, forgot her financial worries—she even forgot time and hunger. When she finally looked up from her sketches, evening had fallen.
Reluctantly she interrupted her work to buy food. After shopping she ate a hastily made meal, then went straight back to the drawings. Only well after midnight was she satisfied enough to crawl into bed.
But sleep wouldn’t come easily. She was intensely aroused.
After what felt like endless tossing and turning, she finally slipped into a restless sleep.
She was back in the pleasure box. But this time she was properly restrained. She couldn’t move her arms, and she couldn’t reach the control to pull her lower body back inside.
A red ball gag filled her mouth, matching the color of her lipstick. With wide eyes she stared at her reflection in the mirrored surface.
She felt a large dildo—slick with lubricant—being pushed into her ass. It was thicker at the beginning, and once it forced her sphincter open it slid in almost on its own. But something was strange. The dildo pulled her lower body downward, holding her fixed and immobile.
An anal hook, flashed through her mind.
She knew what it was, even though she’d never tried one. Of course she’d had anal sex before. The first time had been a surprisingly pleasant experience—but she didn’t always like it. Another time it had simply hurt, killing her mood instead of giving her pleasure.
All the more surprising was what she noticed now: she was getting wet. Dripping.
She tried to lift her hips—just to test it—but the hook held her down.
Then she felt something moist against her lips. Someone began to tease her with their tongue. At first gently, then more insistently, the tongue moved along her slit. She tried to shift so it would finally reach where she needed it—but she couldn’t. As if on purpose, her most sensitive spot was being ignored, keeping her frustrated and painfully wound up at the same time.
Then, finally, the tongue slipped inside her—still ignoring her clit. Her already dripping pussy turned into a leaking tanker.
When the tongue at last found her clit, circling it, and then the lips pressed and sucked at it just enough, she exploded into an orgasm beyond anything she’d ever known.
Jana woke with a jolt—while aftershocks of that impossible climax still surged through her.
She couldn’t move her arms at first, and it took her a moment to realize she’d twisted her hands into the bedsheet in her sleep. With effort she freed herself and lay there, exhausted and stunned.
She had never had an orgasm in a dream before. In fact, she had never managed one at all without a partner.
Jana couldn’t fall asleep again. She was too shaken. Even though it wasn’t yet five o’clock, she got up and made coffee.
Wearing a tracksuit and holding the steaming mug, she sat back down at the table and stared at the drawings from the day before. No—she had to revisit them. Some things still weren’t right.
Once again she immersed herself in the box, drew, erased, tried, discarded. She almost forgot she had to study for her next exam, too. With a heavy heart she pushed the drawings aside, cooked herself something for lunch, and threw herself back into learning.
The real world didn’t care about dreams.
The week dragged on, and Jana grew increasingly frustrated. That damn box wouldn’t leave her alone. It made her unbearably horny and kept her from focusing on the more important things in her life.
By Thursday afternoon she couldn’t take it anymore.
Nervously, she dialed the number of the strip club Offenbar.
It rang five times. Six.
Jana’s courage failed her. What was she even going to say?
Then the call was picked up.
“Club Offenbar.” It was Ralph’s voice.
Jana went silent. She couldn’t get a word out.
“Hello?” Ralph sounded annoyed now.
“Then don’t bother!”
“Wait!” she shouted into the receiver at the last second, just before he could hang up.
“What? Who is this?”
“Sorry—Jana Dörries. Maybe you don’t remember me. I auditioned last Friday.”
“Jana? Of course I remember. What do you want?”
She took a deep breath and gathered all her courage. “Have you scrapped it yet?”
A pause.
“You mean the box? No. I offered it to a few brothels. I put too much money into it to just throw it away.”
“Don’t. You don’t have to trash it—I’ve been thinking about it. If you adjust it a little, it’s completely fine.”
Another pause followed.
“Jana, that’s kind of you, but it’s been sitting around here for a year taking up space. Even if it works, I’ll never find a girl who’ll get inside it. It was a stupid idea.”
Jana inhaled again. If she said it now, there would be no taking it back.
“I’m willing,” she said quietly. “I’ll get into the box and let people play with me.”
Ralph’s surprise was almost tangible through the phone.
“Okay. Can you come by today? I’ll hear you out. But I’m not promising anything. And I’m not paying you today either, understood?”
She nearly lost her nerve. Today? She glanced at her sketches. Were they good enough? Could they communicate the concept properly?
“Fine,” she said. “I can be there in an hour.”
“Good, Jana. I’m curious what you want to show me. See you.”
About an hour later, she was sitting across from Ralph in his office. He had greeted her politely and now watched her, waiting.
All the way here Jana had been thinking about how to begin. She’d pushed every thought about sex and orgasms aside and focused only on the technical side. But now she still felt her face heat up.
“So...” she began. “After the test last week, I thought about it again.”
“Obviously,” Ralph nodded. His eyes flashed with something teasing, which only made her feel more self-conscious.
“Anyway. I want to show you this.” She slid the folder over to him.
Ralph took it with raised eyebrows. Then he studied the eight large A3 drawings closely.
He looked up at Jana, surprised.
“These are yours?”
She nodded.
He nodded too—clearly impressed.
“I told you I study design. And I’ve been drawing since I was little. For a while I wanted to become a comic artist,” she added, almost defensively.
“I’d bet you would’ve succeeded,” Ralph said, and glanced at her briefly before returning to the drawings.
“Alright. Most of it is self-explanatory—like the lifting mechanism, though some details are still unclear. These are impressive drawings, but they’re not construction plans. But this here ... I don’t understand. What is that?”
He placed one drawing on the table and pointed at the area he meant.
“A dead man’s switch,” she explained. “If I’m inside, it gives me a way to protect myself and abort quickly.”
Only after she said it did she realize she’d switched into the first person. Her embarrassment flared again.
But Ralph either didn’t notice or simply ignored it.
“Ah. Now I get it.”
He studied the next sheet.
“And this belongs to that?” he asked, turning it.
Jana nodded.
Ralph spread all the drawings across the desk, leaned back, and looked at them thoughtfully while Jana waited, her stomach tightening with tension.
“That’s more than a few small changes,” he said at last. “You’d basically have to rebuild the entire interior.”
“The bench can stay,” Jana blurted quickly.
“But the entire substructure would be different. Much more complicated. More expensive. Do you have any idea how much money these ‘small changes’ will cost?” He did a quick mental calculation. “If I’m estimating right, we’re talking three to four thousand euros.”
Jana drew in a sharp breath. That much?
“If I may ask—how much has the box cost so far?”
Ralph shrugged.
“I don’t have an exact breakdown. If I added up everything—the previous versions, testing, my time—I’d definitely be at twenty-five thousand.”
“And if you sell it, what do you get for it?” Jana asked, following a sudden thought.
He shrugged again.
“That’s negotiation. I haven’t had a serious buyer yet, but I’m aiming for ten thousand.”
“So fifteen thousand as a guaranteed total loss—possibly more. Not counting your time and giving up on your obsession.”
She knew she was provoking him. And sure enough, a crease of anger appeared on Ralph’s face.
“Are you messing with me? I can do math. This club is mine, and it turns a profit. But sometimes you write things off.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jana tried to smooth it over. “I just mean: with this extra investment you’d have a properly functioning device—possibly profitable. Otherwise you’re just sitting on a loss. Whether it’s fifteen thousand or eighteen thousand doesn’t change much. But in the end you’d have a box that works—one you might even be able to sell for full price.”
Ralph stared at her sharply. Then his expression eased again.
“And you’d really be willing to get in there and do the show?” he changed the subject abruptly.
That hit Jana completely off guard.
“Uh, I...” she started.
“The box is worthless to me if I don’t find a suitable girl who’ll actually present it. So: you’d do it. For sure?”
She didn’t know what to say. Part of her fantasized about it. But actually doing it—being touched, being sexually manipulated by strangers—
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