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Review of the Purple-Tails Nightclub, by AnotherAperson

I've always loved this place; I've been going constantly for months now--every Saturday night after work, and sometimes on the following Sunday if I'm still feeling horny. And I go so often, because this place somehow manages to tick every box of mine. I've never had a slow or boring night there and things continue to get more exciting the longer I spend at the Purple-Tails Nightclub.

I imagine the staff there noticed my frequent punctuality. Hell, I knew half of them by name, even managing to sleep with one of the horse dancers after a bout of confidence. But I'm getting off track here.

The place is located in a quieter area of the city-centre. To find it the first time a few months back, I ended up having to use Google Maps, and even then, I thought my phone had lied to me.

From the front, it's a brightly lit door with a single, pink sign above: saying, 'Purple-Tails'. Upon seeing the lone door buried within the line of unmarked buildings, I had second thoughts. Maybe going to a new kinky nightclub alone in an area you're unfamiliar with isn't the brightest idea.

I turned ready to leave, but then someone called out to me-- the lone bouncer at the door, a huge bear dressed in tight leather clothing and boots, and wearing a large spiked collar. His smile beckoned at me through a crowd of smoke as he exhaled a large drag from the cigar playing between his lips. He'd been standing there the entire time in the darkness of the door, and I hadn't even noticed him, which seems impossible to me now. I've seen big men before, and have slept with my fair share too, but this guy is another level of muscle and power. And he's just the doorman!

I learned later that his name was Jack. When he wasn't at the club, he spent his time gardening and tending to bonsai trees, but there was no way to know that when you first saw him. He scared the shit out of me. So much so that when he called me over, I did so immediately, and for that I'll be eternally grateful.

What I'm saying is, if I manage to convince you to visit this club, don't be put off by the Jack at the door and the door itself. He's nice, as long as you look presentable, and don't call him Jack to his face-- ever. You've been warned.

Like the outside of the building, the inside doesn't look like much when you first enter. Everything is thrown into darkness except for the purple and pink rays arching around the room. There's a low hum of slowed bounce music, that smoothly mixes with the sounds of patrons moaning all around. Until your eyes adjust, all you can make out are the gently rutting forms in the enclosed spaces along the walls, some with the curtain drawn, others without, flaunting their naked attraction to the world.

Your eyes will naturally be drawn away from that to the lone island of light at the other end of the room.

Dom has always run the bar. A polite, curvy deer who can make a drink fast and erotically, somehow managing to make all the bottles shimmer like dicks between his hands. He constantly drank, and he was the only one who has ever served as the bartender as long as I've been there.

Surrounding him on all the stools are all the people not yet taken back to a booth or upstairs to a private room. (Or, if they're lucky, like I was, get taken downstairs.) The bar is the place you sit and wait. The place everyone starts on a night before finding company for the night waiting somewhere in the shadows.

When you first start frequenting the club-- and trust me you'll want to go more than once-- you'll be here for a while. You don't know any of the other patrons, and they don't know you. You're looking for a good time, and they don't yet see that in you. They've got a routine without you.

It can take a while to escape the island. Thankfully, Dom is amazing company. Just ask about his favourite drink or how he got his ass so big, and soon you'll begin speaking to people, and soon you'll be walking back with one or more of them, off into the dark.

I'm exaggerating about the dark. Your eyes eventually adjust; although, I am a canine, so take that with a grain of salt.

The main floor is just ordered rows of circular booths. In each one, seating surrounds a 'stage', or a little platform for the entertainment to go on. Above, there's a freakishly confusing looking cage that you don't see until you look for it. Finally, there are two red buttons on one side of the seating. The big red one, reading 'emergencies', is for actual emergencies: someone injured or a heart attack or assault or anything you can imagine going wrong. Hit it, and alarms scream everywhere. Bouncers appear out of nowhere to see what the problem is, scaring to death anyone not already dead. I know because I hit accidentally once, and it sent Jack running. (Never again.)

The one below is a bit more relaxed: it just calls a member of staff for requests of drinks and toys or whatever you want really. An attractive horse comes along, exposed except for his dick and balls pressed tightly into a cage, and a tight plug up his ass. (One of them showed me it once when they came back to my place. He pulled it out slowly, and every moment I thought that it would stop getting bigger, but it never did. The thing that popped out was a softball sized monstrosity, that I gaped at soundlessly. He shrugged, pushed it back in, then fucked me senseless, but that's a story for another day. Just know that if you ask for the same butt plug from the back, they'll buy you a drink or two.)

But I've got distracted again. Once you're at the booth with your attractive partner rubbing their hands all over you, kneading at your thighs and holding their chin to kiss you: hit the smaller button. A horse will come along, and then ask for toys: rope first, then masks, gags, lube-- go crazy-- then get up on the stage. This is where the real magic begins. The frame allows for every hanging-bondage position imaginable, and it can support the weight of twenty trucks; so, go crazy.

Do you want to see your partner hanging upside down, forced to lick at their own dick like some twisted chandelier? Go for it.

Do you want a train of people tied together above, fucking each other senseless? Go for it.

Do you just want to show off how many pull-ups you can do? If that's your thing, then go for it, though you are missing the point a bit. The frame alone has introduced me to numerous fantasies I've never imagined before, and you'll walk around amazed (once your eyes have adjusted) at all the crazy shit happening around you.

I spent my first ten nights on that floor. I began to push the limits of what could and could not be done, and the staff seemed to revel in it. The supervisors walking around are just as horny as you are, and will happily join in, which I learned when getting pounded all-- another time. I'll talk about it another time.

I think my favourite story about this floor was the lone wolf who walked in one night, all timid, and shy even when talking to Dom. He was there for one thing only: he wanted to fuck, a lot, and with a lot of people. Something tragic happened, some loved one no longer exists or some failed relationship-- it doesn't matter. He started the night as the lone soldier at the centre of the bar. By the end of the night, he was in the central booth in the room, swinging freely with his ass and head pulled up, arms tied together and legs pulled up. Everyone in the room took a go with him. One at a time, everyone slid into the booth then had a go at one or both of the holes-- maybe multiple times-- then got off at the other end. The staff and even the sharks joined in. The poor wolf came at least twenty times, though we lost count with everything else going on, and with all the other orgasms around him.

For a night, he was the star. He went from some random, bereaved wolf to a hero that everyone would think about for many nights to come. I still think about him a lot.

Although, now that I've just mentioned the sharks, as well as this amazing story, I should mention the floor's shortcomings. (I'll come back to the other floors later.) The place is a hot-spot for the Kidd-Shark's gang. This whole area is theirs, so it comes to no surprise they've got this place under their belt too. They take a single booth closest to the bar and get especially rapid service, and if they ask something of you, you do it.

I'm not trying to worry you; they'll probably leave you alone. I've never been bothered by them, and they're fun to talk to and sometimes fuck (though be extra careful). Just remember that they are a gang.

Another weird thing about the first floor is this bin person near the toilets. Away from the rest of the action is this lone, canine staff member who stands by a bin, not saying anything. They can't; their entire body is covered in heavy bondage, I'm not even sure what gender they could possibly be. I can recognise a large, horse-cock gag pressed into their muzzle, but the rest of the face is covered. Even the eyes are hidden behind darkened panes strapped to their face. The rest of their body is wrapped in heavy leather, which keeps them upright to the wall.

Like I was, you will be confused as to why they're there. A sign behind them says it all, and they pointed at it, and I stopped. It reads: "please donate used condoms here, the more filled the better. £1 for high quality/£0.2 for the rest."

Curious as you are now, I brought one to them. They broke the seal and brought it to their nose. They sniffed a moment, felt the weight of the bag, then poured it into the 'bin' beneath them. I don't think it's a bin at all; I think it leads somewhere, though, I could only guess where at the time. They nodded, threw away the rubber and gave me a pound. It was equal parts flattering and embarrassing. I rushed back to my table to count my change.

Often, I go to the bin-person with condoms in tow for them to empty. They smell each one before it goes, but never seem to flinch at all. I sometimes wonder how long they've been in that job for, or if it's even a job at all.

But, onto the upstairs. It's where all the private rooms are. For a bit extra, you can hire out as many hours as you like, capped at three days. You can go longer, but you need permission from the owners. I once knew a guy and his boyfriend who bought a room for two weeks just so that he could know what it's like to be edged and teased that long. I envy him and the other upstairs-goers.

Because unfortunately, I've only ever been upstairs once, and that was when a particularly attractive skunk wanted to keep me for himself a tiny bit longer. I couldn't say no to him and his cute tail, and soon found myself going up a carpeted stairway with thick walls to what appeared like the corridor of a hotel. He joked that we were in a scene from the shining, to which I agreed.

Inside the room, there was nothing more than what you would expect: a bed, television, a few draws and that same frame hanging from the ceiling. I poked my nose into the bathroom, and found it strange; the space was too big for the single toilet, shower, and urinal. In the centre there was all this tiled floor space with no rug. I walked around, wondering if I'd missed something, if there was some hidden nook I didn't see at first.

_Were the architects on something when they designed this room? Why is it so big? _ I realised why when I felt something warm pattering against my back. According to regulars, the skunk had taken me to a 'urinal-type' room.

There are others. Apparently, there's a sauna somewhere, a few sadomasochistic spaces, a gym, and even a boxing ring. I'm... not sure what to make of those spaces, but if you like those things or know what to do with them in this context, I'm sure you'll love them.

The top floor is where the boss lives. I've never seen them, so most likely neither will you. I've seen the space upstairs from afar though. As I walked to the club one night, I took the opportunity once to gaze up, and I was blown away by what I saw. The whole top space had been renovated into a modernist style with large windows that undoubtedly saw over the entire city. Coloured lights cut through and out into the sky from within. I stood and watched them flash for a while.

Jack hissed at me from his post and dragged me into the shadow of the buildings. The lights played across his face as he spoke.

"Don't look up there! That's the boss's space, and by extension, it belongs to the Sharks!"

He pushed me through the door into the familiar space of the club.

"Wait, really?" I replied, dumbly. Jack just shook his head like a disappointed parent and sighed.

"Don't... Don't do that again. They wouldn't kill you if they saw that, but you would wish you were dead. Do you know what they do to people?"

I didn't, but nodded my head anyway. He sighed and shook his head again. He glanced once towards the bar, then turned and left to let more guests in. I turned to leave as well, and noticed the bound canine by the bin turn away, as if they were watching me.

I filled a condom in the bathroom soon after and brought it to them, but they didn't react at all to me. Again, they smelt it, felt the bag, then poured it away. The sperm was weak that time. I left them to get a drink.

And that summarises my thoughts about the club itself. If you see yourself in me or the wolf, I recommend going at least once. Just be prepared for the night of your life and for perhaps an awkward walk home after. If this sounds interesting to you, read on below, where I describe my special club experience downstairs.

My downstairs experience

This all happened just yesterday. I was waiting at a booth with some other regulars I enjoyed spending time with, including the skunk, who lay on the stage getting tied up by the horse with the large butt plug. I was having a great time. The skunk certainly was about to. I only felt slightly envious of the horse, but then suddenly a stag strode towards us, the bound canine from the bin following. We all looked up, except for the skunk, who was moaning over the knotted dildo now pressed within him. The stag just nodded at us then turned to the bound canine who was gazing at their feet.

Something felt wrong, but then I realised it was because I had never seen the canine away from their wall. They shuffled on their feet and pulled at the leather wrapping around their legs.

"Which one?" asked the stag. I considered telling him that the canine couldn't speak with the large gag, but they lifted their arm and pointed. They pointed straight at me.

"Right--" the stag loosened his tie then grabbed me by the shoulder-- "would you mind coming with me, sir." He dragged me out of the booth and across the room towards the door to the stairs. I turned around to see the horse playing again with the skunk, while the bound canine watched me leave with a lowered head.

"Wait, who are you? Where are we going?"

We'd moved to the stairway. I expected to go up to some private room, some session happening elsewhere in the building, but we started walking down.

"Wait, why are we going downstairs?"

Through my haze of alcohol, I began to panic. No one ever went downstairs, for anything at all. All the activities are upstairs.

I pulled back out of his grasp and stood on the first flight. The stag stopped and sighed. He loosened his tie further and cracked his knuckles. He stood over a foot taller than me, even without his antlers crowning his head. His image reminded me of some great king, or knight, with his armour now a wide-shouldered, blue suit that showed off his flowing muscles. As he stopped to think of something to say, I got my first real look at him, and I realised that he might be the owner. Of course, I have no idea what the owner actually looks like, nor had anyone ever spoken about him, not even Jack, but he held himself with an intensive energy that oozed confidence.

"I asked Henry and the rest of the staff about anyone who is interested in our activities here, about how we do things-- anyone that asks questions. Judging from what you asked me on the stairs, that would be you."

He poked me in the chest, sending me back against the wall. I didn't know what to say, so I said the first thing that popped into my mind.

"Who's Henry?" The stag chuckled.

"Are you not interested at all where we are going? It doesn't matter, you don't have much of a choice anyway." He shrugged his shoulders and went on,

"Henry is that guy in all the gear: the cum-dumpster by the toilets."

So, it turns out he was a guy. I could never have guessed, though it didn't matter much; I wouldn't ever be able to sleep with him through all his gear.

The stag grabbed me by the ear, causing me to cry out, and dragged me away from the wall. We went down a flight of stairs to an iron door. He knocked, and eyes appeared at a hatch. The door swung open to reveal an empty space, with a low ceiling, concrete floor, and dingy lights that swung on cables.

I'm sorry if you were expecting more; I was too, and it didn't feel like the essence of the club was reflected here. Upstairs had a perfect mixture of style, atmosphere, and eroticism that made every night so enjoyable. This place felt like a graveyard to me, not somewhere to sleep with someone. How wrong I was.

Three sharks waited by a table at one end. A hatch in the wall sat between them, along with a suit on the floor. I didn't focus on that. The three sharks clearly came from the Kidd-Sharks gang. All I could wonder was whether I was going to die or not? Was this the end?

"Here he is, lads."

The stag pushed me forward and let go of my ear. He was already gone when I turned to look at him, and I was alone with sharks. I rubbed my ear and winced. I imagined he'd torn it somehow from how much force he applied, but it felt fine except for the pain.

"Heh, cute," said one of the sharks. "Come here."

It was the largest of the trio, the one stood in the middle. I let go of my ear, suddenly feeling self-conscious. (Did I mention that I'm naked right now?)

I approached, and he grabbed my chin and pulled it towards his own. I went onto my toes, so he didn't pull my jaw out, and let him admire my face. His face broke into a grin, and I blushed. He pushed a thumb over my lips.

"Open for me, toy." Toy? Was my first thought. I opened my jaw for him, and he pulled it open wider. He admired me like a construction, and it made me feel uncomfortable.

"Ah," I gasped, as if at the dentist. He grabbed my dick and squeezed, evoking a larger gasp from me. He began to stroke me off, while with his other hand he swirled his thumb across my tongue, tickling me.

Around me, the other sharks began doing the same to themselves, one hand on each length. If you didn't know, sharks have two dicks each, each as large as the other, each many inches larger than my own, that looked pathetic, drooling pre-cum into the shark's hand.

"Moan for me a little louder."

He let go of my dick and I gasped. It wasn't loud enough, and he pulled my head higher, forcing me to stretch higher on my already tired heels.

"Hm! --" he pressed his thumb to the back of my throat-- "ack!"

I gagged on his hand and tried not to bite down. I felt tears streaming down my throat as I gagged again. The sharks just chuckled. I could hear drops of cum on the floor from the pair of them already, and they were getting impatient with the display; I felt them moving closer.

"Good boy. Now, go on your knees for me."

He let go of my dick again and placed both hands on my shoulders. He didn't push down hard, but I knew I didn't have a choice in this. I let my knees go down onto the cold, concrete floor and became eye level with his dicks. I gasped, but not because I was hurt in any way, but because of his two erect lengths. They each looked around nine inches long, and were perfectly smooth until the tip, where a long strand of pre-cum hung from each.

"Do you like what you see?"

The shark in front slapped me a few times with the tip of his length, smearing himself across my face. That's when the smell first hit me-- a smell I would soon become very intimate with.

I winced as his cock hit the tip of the sore ear. The sharks chuckled, and I felt another pair of dicks running through the fur of my neck.

"I think he loves it."

Another pair appeared to my left and began pressing up against my cheek. I wasn't sure what to do with all these dicks around me, spreading their fluids to my face, but I didn't have to wait long.

"Open wide for me," said the shark in front. I half-expected his thumb to reappear, but he slapped one of his lengths down instead. I didn't need to be told, and began lapping at his tip before sinking down onto him.

"Jesus," he whispered, rocking his hips forward for me. I moaned into him and grabbed his behind to pull him in closer. He tensed his muscles for me, and I rubbed there for a second, while with my other hand I grabbed his second dick. I tried pushing myself further and further down until I had deep throated the whole thing. Nine inches is a lot, but I'm no amateur.

I pulled off then went down again, causing him to moan. I went into my element, sucking him off while with my free hand, I teased his extra manhood and rubbed it across myself.

"Good toy. Now, do you think we can get the other in?"

It wasn't really a question. I directed through my lips as best I could without biting and suckled at the head, allowing myself to become sloppy. Saliva and cum dripped down my chin and over my head, causing the fur to clump with an itch. I ignored it and continued to suck. Maybe if I make them feel good enough, they will eventually leave me alone?

"Ah!"

A hand grabbed my ear just as a shark moaned out, splattering their load down my sides in streaks of warmth. They prodded my nose with it as he blew himself over me, leaving me showered and unclean. I continued to suck as best I could with cum all over me.

The other guy finished soon after, and the pair of them moved over to the suit after they wiped themselves clean with my fur. The guy in front took a long time to get off. He seemed to prefer a slow burn, getting me to suck weakly and give him cute looks and moan as he played with my ear and pushed his thumb back onto my tongue. He pushed me away from his dick just before he could finish, then moved my head lower to worship his balls. I imagine I was there for twenty minutes before we moved back to his length. He eventually did get both lengths down my throat, and that's when he finally came.

...

When I awoke from the daze, I was on the floor of the basement still, coughing cum over my chest and crying. I couldn't see much through the tears, just the three blurry shapes as they picked up the suit. Without much else to do, I leaned my head back and rested for a moment.

"Okay, toy, it's time for you to go into the suit now," cooed the large shark into my ear. I shuddered, and my eyes opened just to see his hand descend and tighten around my throat.

"You're going to do what I ask now, otherwise this will get quite painful for you."

I was afraid to say anything, so I just nodded up at him. I didn't dare look him in the eyes. Even from the corners of my vision, I saw him smile. He grabbed me from under my arms and pulled me up without a sound, and I finally got a look at the suit the other two had been playing with.

At a glance, it looked like a translucent straight jacket. I looked at it for a moment longer, but the image didn't change: a thick plastic bodysuit covered in straps to tighten or relax any part of the person's body. It even had a loose mask attached, which was unique for a suit like this.

I had no idea what it was or what it could be used for until I got a step closer and the smell hit me. God the smell! It reeked of a thousand nights in hotels, never washed and fresh, as if all those nights had happened all at once. I realised then that the inside material glistened.

I brought a hand to my nose and took a step back, shaking my head. It was too much, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder tighten, and the shark leant down and whispered again before the others pounced.

"Come on, you'll love it."

I couldn't resist as they practically carried me into the suit. I shuddered as my legs went in, feeling the trailing cum going through my fur. Worse yet, the whole thing fitted me perfectly. My arms wrapped to the front, keeping me immobile. They zipped up the back and left me to roll around on the floor, embarrassed. With the fluids, I could find no way to become comfortable.

"Now, just the mask."

He wrapped it around my head in seconds, and it fit around my head perfectly, even accounting for my ears and the length of my snout. He tightened the straps and attached it to the rest of the body, and now the smell was unavoidable. The only way to breath was a few two small holes in front of each nostril at the front of the mask, but they were too small. Every breath brought in that intoxicating stench of sex that now covered my entire body.

It was then that I noticed the tube. I hadn't seen it until now, probably because it was at the front of the suit, and it blended with the rest of the translucent plastic of the outfit. Now, I could see it in front of me, snaking its way from the opened passage in the wall all the way to my belly. Something would come down that tube, and I had a feeling I knew what it would be.

The big shark tightened the strap around my snout, keeping my jaw closed, before nodding to the others. They each grabbed me and lifted me towards the hole feet first.

"Hm!" I cried out once before I was inside a coffin-like space, all dark, and empty except for me and the tube leading away. It was even harder to breathe fresh air now with the outside air being as stale and pungent as everything in the suit. I tilted my head backwards to look at the sharks waiting. The two goons looked bored with the task, like they were putting away clothes or cleaning dishes, while the big one was right beside me, smiling, almost laughing as he spoke.

"You know, you're actually quite cute like this. I didn't see it before, but now--" he shrugged and stepped away-- "I see what that bin guy sees in you."

I cried out once as the hatch slammed shut, leaving me in darkness.

It was so dark I could no longer see the wall above me. Dark and quiet enough that I truly felt alone, that I would soon be spat out into the world once again reborn. In the suit, there was little to do but wait for whatever would happen next.

It wasn't as dramatic as my pounding heart thought it would be. I'd tried to curl slightly to maybe nap, when I felt a light drizzle of fluid onto my belly. I knew what it was before its smell reached my nose and made me recoil. Because I knew I lay trapped beneath the bin. This is where the fluid goes that Henry pours day after day. And now all the cum is filling the suit and covering me.

A moment later, another dribble landed against me, and the excess fluid ran down my sides. I gave a whimper through the plastic mask, mostly for my own benefit. I could do nothing but continue to wait.

...

Hour after hour, fluids trailed the tube and onto me. After my front had been covered, it began to spread down my legs and pool around my feet. I thought that would be the extent of it, but I underestimated how many people regularly used Henry's service. Hell, some of this could be the skunks for all I know, or even Jack's!

It began to form a slick puddle in the fur, and it was warm there. It began to become too warm. I couldn't pant at all, and breathing was already difficult with the two holes to the outside world.

Every breath brought back the male stench, and it pervaded my brain. I could only focus on the endless accumulation of fluid around my body, and the effect it was having on me. And, I'm ashamed to admit this, but it gave me a hard erection that I couldn't 'relieve' myself of with my arms tied.

...

After hours and hours of nothing, my brain began to slow down from fatigue and boredom. That, or the chronic lack of fresh oxygen, led me to pass out in the suit.

...

I awoke inside an empty bathtub. I was still wearing the suit, and all the fluids had finally dried, leaving a white crustiness through all my fur. Before my arms were held strapped across my chest, but I found them loose now, and I got up and looked in the mirror. And it turns out, they'd taken me to my own bathroom.

I peeled off the suit and showered-- though I doubt it would do much to salvage my coat-- then left the suit in the bath to soak. I live alone, so I stumbled naked into the flat, flipping on lights as I went until I reached the living room.

On the table were white roses, a box of chocolates, and a note. I went for the note first, and it said in cursive writing, 'Hope you enjoyed the night in the box; the boys were certainly happy with your performance, and they wanted me to tell you that they can't wait to see you at the purple tails again soon. If you're interested in doing something similar in the future, there are many other 'punishments' on offer, should you be interested. I myself cannot wait to see you again, so I've left my number and some chocolates, so please call. From a potential friend? -- Henry.'

After that I ate a few chocolates and had a drink to clear my throat before stumbling to bed.

So, in conclusion, maybe I am biased towards the club over other sex clubs because of its unique hands-on treatment towards me. And maybe I want to leave such a positive review because I want to appease Henry, and Jack, and the sharks, and everyone else for that matter, but regardless, I hope I've convinced you. I've got my date with Henry tonight, so for me the whole experience has been infinitely worth it.