Adonis

You know it's not a great idea. There are countless better ways to scratch an itch like yours, right? But yours is not some casual, passing interest in some sort of sexual play. No, your need runs deep. It's absolute. You don't care about the strange rumors surrounding the club, about how the whole thing should be investigated for rampant sexual misconduct, sexism, misogyny, etc. In fact, the more comments you find that imply the whole place is basically a cult dedicated to the widespread and absolute oppression of women, the more eager you are to throw yourself into it. It calls to you on a level you never knew was possible.

So you mark your calendar and spend the next few days in anxious anticipation of attending their annual open meeting. You go to the spa and the salon, you buy an outfit especially for the occasion, and you make a careful point to avoid masturbating so you are as sexually charged as possible. Your objective is clear: to present yourself to the men of Adonis as ready and willing to please.

The day arrives. It takes all your effort to avoid touching yourself as you wait for the clock to progress to the appointed hour. You waste a couple hours lying naked on your bed watching porn. Degrading, sexist stuff full of women being humiliated or objectified, fucked into submission until whatever bravado they'd started with was gone and all that was left was a moaning whore.

When the clock shows five thirty, you roll out of bed to get dressed in your chosen outfit. All of it black, every stitch. A simple thong panty and strapless, corset-style bra that hugs your ribcage go on first, then a simple, slinky black dress and a pair of four-inch black pumps. Nothing too fancy. For jewelry, you wear nothing but a silver slip chain necklace with large rings on either end. Worn loose, it drapes elegantly over your bust, but anyone could tug on one end to approximate a leash and collar, pulled tight at your throat.

It's a fairly standard style of necklace, but if your guess is correct about the sort of men who would be members of a club like Adonis, every single man there will see the potential use for it. If you're very lucky, at least one of them will actually use it.

Finally, you call a rideshare to take you to the club. There's no way you're taking your own car. For added fun and increased vulnerability for yourself, after the car arrives and you've paid and pre-tipped the driver, you stash your powered-off phone in your own mailbox, bringing literally nothing with you to the club. No money, no identification, no phone. You won't even have any way to get home unless you can convince someone to help you.

Fuck, you're so turned on already.