The Major showed up with tickets for Cathy and me: tourist class, of course. That engendered another argument with the Major. If we were going to play wealthy business owners in search of a slave to purchase we wouldn't travel in the cheap seats. This was a constant theme in my dealing with the Major. Here he was, obviously a senior agent with power to recruit and run operations. At the same time he was a petty bureaucrat bound by all of the red tape that made our government move so slowly. In the end, after some argument, he went away and came back with two business class tickets.
While this was going on Pete went to a moving company and bought a book box (a sturdy cardboard box designed to be packed full of books), packing paper and some packing tape. On the way back he visited a Home Depot and picked up a roll of duct tape and then visited a Mail Boxes, etc. and bought a quantity of brown wrapping paper.
While Cathy was packing our civilian clothing and what little clothing I was allowing her to bring (the bikini she had worn on the boat for example), Pete and I carefully packed everything that might raise questions at the airport into the book box.
We had two standard issue 9 mm Glock automatics, two very non-standard silencers (obtained in a shady deal in a back alley here in DC), boxes of ammunition, night vision goggles, battery packs, rechargers, K-Bars (large fighting knifes something like large hunting knifes). These are no longer Marine Corps issue, but I don't know any Marine with more than a few years of service without one; and web gear and holsters for all of the above. We also had field glasses (binoculars to you), two-way radios with headsets and a couple of smoke grenades. We had thought of bringing CS (tear gas) grenades but that would have required lugging along bulky gas masks.
We also packed the B&D gear that while not illegal might have raised questions at the airport. The packing paper was stuffed in and around everything so that there was no shifting when the box was shaken. We then tightly sealed the box with the duct tape, covered it with brown wrapping paper and sealed the wrapping paper with normal package tape.
We drove to my bank to withdraw cash for the trip and for Pete's ticket, and then to the airport. First we went to airfreight and Pete filled out the papers to ship the box. He used his name and real ID along with the address of the apartment as shipper and my name and the address of the safe house as consignee, with instruction to hold the box at the airfreight office in California rather than trying to deliver it. In the space asking for contents he listed confidential business books and reports. Paper is heavier than most equipment and there were no questions from the airfreight clerk.
We then went to the terminal where Pete bought a business class ticket on the same flight but not in a seat near Cathy's and mine. I had wanted to make Cathy wear dildos and vibrators so I could tease her on the flight but after thinking about airport security I settled for an ordinary non-vibrating butt plug held in place by a tight crotch rope with a knot strategically placed in the vicinity of her clitoris. I'd expected an argument from Cathy about this but, perhaps mindful of my lack of enthusiasm at her participation, she had entered into the role of a 24/7 sub and allowed me to tell her what to wear.
The flight was more or less uneventful except that I covered Cathy's legs with a blanket and from time to time slipped my hand under the blanket to tug at the crotch rope. After several hours of this (it was a 5 hour flight) she offered no demur when I led her to a washroom and we initiated ourselves into the "mile high club". This caused us to miss most of the movie, but we both enjoyed the in flight entertainment. We did get a funny look from one of the stewardesses but she didn't say anything.
When we landed we picked up a rental car. The Major had provided me with a California driver's licensee with the address of the safe house. Don't ask me if it was genuine, it seemed to be accepted. I drove to the safe house the Major had provided. Pete and I hauled in the luggage (I did allow Cathy to bring some clothes) and, leaving Pete more or less on guard, I drove back to the airport. This time I went to the airfreight office. Sure enough the box was waiting for me. After providing identification I loaded it into the back of the car and returned to the safe house. A note indicated that Cathy and Pete had gone grocery shopping so I parked the car and brought in the box.
We were all tired from the long flight so we decided we could wait a day before starting in at the bondage clubs. Pete and I cooked steaks while Cathy made a salad and dressing and cooked some frozen veggies. We didn't bother with potatoes but did enjoy a very nice California Merlot. Sadly, there was no chilled raspberry sauce for desert.
Even without the sauce Cathy and I decided to try out the lined cuffs. I had planned to spank her but she was doing so well in the full-time sub routine that I decided she didn't need the spanking.
We did play a game with her nipple clamps. I used the cuffs to lock her wrists behind her and hold her ankles crossed, keeping her knees spread reasonably wide. Then, after playing with her lovely breasts to ensure that her nipples were as hard and engorged as possible, I fastened two clover clamps to her nipples. These are a Japanese design and the harder they are tugged the tighter they grip.
They were linked together by a slim chain. From this chain I hung a magnetic cup hook. This is an inexpensive item meant to cling magnetically to a range top hood or cabinet with the hook available to hang cups, or potholders or whatever.
Obviously the game was for her to pick up the metal disks with the magnet. There were some difficulties, however. With her ankles crossed and her knees spread she could only move about by swinging her weight to one knee and shifting the other knee forward. Then she had to shift her weight to the other side and move the first knee forward. As you might imagine this made her breasts bounce and sway delightfully. It also sent the cup hook swinging on the chain giving little tugs on the clover clamps, which responded by slight pinches to the nipples.
This wasn't her only problem however. When she got to a disk the nipple clamp chain was short and kept the magnet well above the metal disks. To get a disk she had to more or less roll forward until her forehead touched the floor and then wiggle her breasts around until the magnet contacted the disk. I followed her about and as she rolled forward her pussy was invitingly exposed between her thighs. I encouraged her by gently stroking her pussy with the little leather flap at the tip of my riding crop. It was beautiful to see how first her outer lips engorged and spread slightly and then her lovely inner lips became visible and available to the stroking. Towards the very end her clit was hard and needy and quite visible poking out when she bent forward. Of course being the nice guy that I was, I made certain that it received its fair share of stroking.
There was one last bother that you may have thought of by this time. As she rolled back to go after the next disk the weight hanging from the magnet was now increased by the weight of the disks she was carrying. This, of course, made the swinging of the hook from side to side just that bit more pronounced, the tugs at the clamps just that bit harder and the pinches to her nipples just that much tighter and harder.
As you can imagine this went on for some time and the sight of Cathy bouncing and rocking her way around the floor caused me to be very aroused. Fortunately when she had gathered all of the disks and rolled back up for the last time she was at the perfect height for oral sex. I asked for and received very good service from her mouth.
It occurred to me that the disks were still pulling at her nipples so I stopped her before I came, by pulling backwards and exiting her mouth with a plop. She leaned forward to try to recapture me and I pulled her down by her shoulders until her forehead touched the ground. Then I went around behind her.
She had a lovely ass. I caressed it and massaged it for a bit, then I ran my hand down the cleft, gently touching her anus and continuing on to her very open pussy. A few seconds of clitoral stimulation and she was squirming and moaning in a very exciting way. I slid into her and, holding her hips, began a slow rhythm. She came very rapidly and I joined her before she came down from her orgasmic high.
I gently rolled her back up and reached around to unclip her nipples. She writhed as the blood returned to her nipples and I must admit, despite the fact that I knew her writhing was from pain, the sight aroused me. I pulled her further back until she was resting with her back on the floor and went to work soothing her sensitive nipples with my tongue. Of course that left her lying on her bound hands but she didn't seem to mind.
I untied her ankles so that she could stretch her legs and unclipped her wrists so that she could pull them out from behind her. Then, with no bondage whatsoever, I entered her in the missionary position right there on the floor. She was tired and sweaty but her smile was bright and lusty and she brought her legs up and around my back as she met me, slow loving thrust for slow loving thrust. I helped her along with my hand and we both came again.
Afterward I carried her nearly comatose body to the bed and we fell asleep in each other's arms. It had been a long day.
The next morning we bought the local paper and collected as many of the free tabloids as we could find. While Cathy cooked bacon and eggs (I had her wear an apron as her beautiful body was too precious to me to risk bacon fat burns) for the three of us, Pete and I want through the want ads for clubs with a B&D orientation. We also booted up the computer and web surfed for additional San Francisco city and peninsula clubs.
We came up with six clubs. Our plan called for Cathy and me to become familiar faces at the most promising one or two clubs but there was no reason why Pete couldn't take a read on three of the clubs while we checked out the other three.
The first club on our list was clearly for tourists. It had a cover charge, tiny tables and expensive drinks. Although there were a few couples where one partner appeared submissive there were no strange costumes or obvious bonds.
There was a stage at one end and when the house lights dimmed a pretty woman with very large breasts strode on stage leading a second more petite woman dressed in ordinary street clothes. The larger woman was wearing what appeared to be a leather corset and matching panties along with long leather gloves and high heeled, tall (to the knee) leather boots. The smaller woman had her hands tied in front of her and was being led by a rope that reached from her bound hands.
The large breasted woman led (dragged) the smaller woman to a post in the front of the stage and fastened her wrists to the post high above her head. The supposed 'dom' strode around the bound woman snapping her whip and occasionally stroking the smaller woman. Then she unbuttoned her blouse and circled her several other times snapping the whip. After a bit she leaned into the smaller woman and reached around her to unfasten her bra.
More circling and snapping of the whip. Then the so-called Dom raised the blouse and bra over the bound woman's elbows tying a rope to hold the elbows together preventing the clothes from coming back down. Roar of applause from the audience.
More circling and snapping of the whip, this time accompanied by caressing the tied woman's breasts with the whip. The bound woman moved from side to side in what was meant to be erotic writhing. The larger woman untied one wrist. The bound woman with her elbows tied and one wrist still tied high on the pose waved the one hand ineffectually as the larger woman pulled the blouse and bra off that wrist. The free wrist was retied, more circles and caresses and the same thing happened with the other wrist.
Then with both wrists tied and much stroking of the smaller woman's breasts, which, by the way, appeared to have been surgically enlarged, there were several minutes of what passed for erotic writhing. The skirt was dropped leaving the smaller woman to be clad in what looked like a rather uncomfortable leather thong panty, attractive thigh high stockings and her high-heeled shoes.
After several more circles with both threats from the whip and caresses of the `captive's' body, the `dom' unfastened her victim from the post and led her to a sawhorse device. The victim was fastened with her legs spread wide and her ankles tied to the legs of the sawhorse. She was facing away from the audience and the `dom' ran the rope from the victim's hand through a ring in the floor and pulled forcing the victim to double over. When her hand reached the floor the rope was fastened. The `victim's' face was visible upside down between her wide-spread legs and her buttocks were stretched and pointing up.
The `dom' exchanged her whip for a multi-tailed flogger. Not a word had been said but the supposedly dramatic background music faded as she began to whip the victim. Bright red stripes appeared on the victim's ass as the solid `thwack' of the flogger hitting flesh was amplified over the speaker. The victim's face contorted in pain and she cried out.
The first couple of strokes were very realistic until I noticed that the bright red stripes didn't fade and spread slightly as real whip marks would. Apparently the flogger had some sort of red ink on the tails. Having determined this, I noted that the amplified `thwack' was sometimes a fraction of a second sooner or later than the actual whip stroke. Nothing obvious, but apparently it was a prerecorded sound loop and whoever was operating it was just slightly off. Then the `victim's' cries died out and she slumped, apparently unconscious. The `dom' unfastened her and led the convincingly slumping `victim' off the stage. All in all it wasn't a bad act, if totally fake.
The second act brought the same `dom' back leading a handcuffed couple. The man was stripped to his boxer shorts and fastened to the pole facing sideways across the stage. The woman was stripped to her panties and tied over the same sawhorse lengthwise with her arms and legs each fastened to a leg. The sawhorse was dragged over so that the woman's mouth was at the man's crotch. She was collared and ropes from the side of the collar ensured that she couldn't move from his groin. The `dom' strapped on a large dildo. Then she slipped her hand into the man's shorts and fussed about presumably placing his penis into the woman's mouth. Her "No, No!" becomes `Mphh." as her mouth was supposedly filled. Then the Dom walked to the woman's rear, moved her panties to one side and inserted the huge dildo.
Or at least that's what it looked like for the audience. The woman's head was so close to the man's groin that we never actually saw his penis and we simply imagined it entering her mouth. Similarly we didn't actually see the woman's pussy exposed when the panties were pulled to one side and although we saw the dildo disappear in the right direction the woman's thighs made it impossible to see if there was penetration or if, as I suspect, the dildo simply slipped below her between the saw horse and her abdomen.
After a few minutes of energetic humping with the dildo the bound woman and the man began to moan and simulate orgasm. Great applause from the crowd. Lights out for a few seconds and the stage was now empty.
Although we had seen a few couples that might have been players, it was doubtful that anyone really into the lifestyle would frequent this place. We paid our (exorbitant) bar bill and left.
The next place looked even less promising. It had been selected because of its name, Leathers and Chains, but it turned out to be a biker bar. We went in just to be certain and took a beer to one of the small tables. As our eyes became accustomed to the gloom we saw a crowd of leather clad bikers at the bar and one other couple, sitting at a table, looking as out of place as we were.
Among those at the bar was a very buff, very pretty and very tall Amazon dressed in cut off jeans and a tight tank top. With her was a huge guy who looked to be well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and bulging biceps encased in a tight tee shirt over his jeans. They seemed to be the toughest of the bikers and frequently shoved others at the bar around. I had just about finished my beer when it happened.
The Amazon looked around and saw the two out of place couples. She strode over to the other couple's table and laughed at the leather collar that the girl was wearing. "Well what to we have here?" she asked. "A pretty little slave girl with a collar?" Obviously this wasn't the first time a couple into the lifestyle had wandered into the bar. The Amazon pulled the girl out of her chair and forced her to her knees. Her boyfriend tried to intervene but the hulking guy shoved him back into his seat.
The Amazon saw us watching her and turned to our table with an admonition to the kneeling girl to stay where she was. Then the Amazon came over and grabbed Cathy's jaw twisting her face up and towards her tormentor. "What do we have here?" she asked. I saw fire flash in Cathy's eyes but she just asked, "Master, may I?"
What the hell? This place wasn't doing us any good anyway. "You may." I responded.
What happened next was quite beautiful to watch. Cathy swung her right forearm up in a sweeping motion and slammed it against the Amazon's arm. This jarred the Amazon's grip off Cathy's chin, but it didn't end there. Cathy let her hand slide down the Amazon's arm until she was able to grip the palm. Then Cathy grabbed the palm twisting it and bending the wrist backward. This effectively gave the Amazon pain in her wrist, her elbow (that couldn't bend backwards) and her shoulder (that was being forced against the joint almost to the point of dislocation).
As she screeched Cathy stood, hooked her foot behind the Amazon and pushed with her left hand. The Amazon tumbled backwards and Cathy let her fall. She hit the floor with her back knocking the wind out of her and making a solid thump. This was followed by a clunk and a `woof'. The clunk was when her head, following the arc of her body slammed solidly into the floor. The `woof' came about because as soon as the Amazon started to fall Cathy leapt at her with her left knee as the point of impact on the Amazon's belly. When Cathy's knee drove into her the air was driven out with a `woof' and the Amazon's body jackknifed upwards.
More accurately it tried to jackknife upwards but as the Amazon's head rose to vertical it was met by Cathy's left fist smashing into her nose with a satisfying splat from the smashed cartilage and bone. That, of course reversed her upward motion and down she went with her head hitting the floor with a second loud satisfying clunk.
Let's see, did I have that right? Screech, thump, clunk, woof, splat and clunk. Yeah that's it. Of course this all happen much faster that it takes to tell about it. Cathy flashed me a smile and said "Thank you master." She stood and headed back towards her seat.
In the meantime the hulk had gotten over his shock at seeing his girlfriend put down and was moving from the other table towards ours. "Don't even try," I said to him. He swung towards me and grabbed both of the lapels of my new sport coat to pull me to my feet. Now I don't know why untrained fighters do that. They must have seen it in some gangster movie or something. In any case I was now moving up and towards him with both of my hands free while both of his were occupied with my lapels. I added thrust from my feet and knees to the motion towards him that he had created, and put it all together with my muscle and body weight into a left to his gut.
I don't know if he was just out of shape or if he hadn't gotten around to tightening his abdominal muscles. The result was the same as my fist sank so far into his belly I though I would hit his backbone. He went `woof' just as his girlfriend had and his body doubled in a jack knife. As his hands lost the ability to hold anything and slid off my lapels, I put my right hand behind his neck and helped him on down. His nose hit our table with a satisfying splat and then I pulled him up and back towards his girlfriend. I didn't get a thump as her recumbent body somewhat cushioned his descent but I did hear a nice clunk as his head hit the floor.
I motioned to Cathy that we were leaving. The crowd at the bar was pretty much silent as they took in their two recumbent leaders. I turned towards the door and saw the couple from the other table had come to stand next to us. "Can we leave with you?" the obviously frightened man asked.
I smiled and replied, "Sure, why not?"
Once we were outside he introduced himself as Carl and his girl as Betty. I told him I was Mike and that when I needed a name for my slave girl I used Cathy.
"Are you into the lifestyle?" Carl asked.
"24/7," I lied.
Carl said that he, like us had been attracted by the name to the wrong sort of club. He suggested he knew a much better one called simply "Dianne's" but warned us that it was very expensive and that it guarded its membership. My ears perked up at this. Could it be that a stupid error in picking clubs would propel us into the `private club' arena much more rapidly that we had anticipated?
I told Carl that money wasn't a problem but that I would be interested in seeing the better club. When he understood that we had come by taxi, he offered us a lift. We walked to his car and Carl climbed into the driver's seat while Cathy slipped into the rear. Betty sat in the front passenger seat but I stood looking at her and preventing her from closing the door. I didn't say a word but kept looking at her until she understood her error. She slipped out of the front with a mumbled "Sorry Sir," and sat with Cathy in the rear. I rode up front with Carl.
He slipped off of 101 and up to I-280, the Junepero Serra Freeway, and headed south. We chatted as he drove. It turned out that he and Betty were actually husband and wife and that, while he was well known in the BDSM community, they played B&D primarily for fun and to spice up their life. This could prove a useful entrée into the world we were trying to penetrate so I kept up a friendly conversation with him while the women (slave girls) whispered in the rear seat.
He turned off the freeway at Los Altos but instead of heading down the foothills towards the town he turned west toward the Los Altos Hills area. The San Andreas Fault runs straight down the dip between the foothills and the Coastal range. As a result no insurance company would issue a policy on the homes in this area. No insurance meant no mortgages so the land was spacious and thinly populated. If you could afford to pay cash for your home, building permits were still available. As a result the area was sparsely populated with very large expensive homes that were surrounded with open space and native woods.
Carl twisted and turned through the turns to what appeared to be a very large home built into and over a slope. We pulled around back past a corral into a large barn-like building and parked. There were about eight other cars parked though there may have been another one or two in the shadows at the far end of the barn.
"I'm afraid they insist on slaves being nude and restrained while in the club." said Carl. Cathy stood at the side of the car and shed her clothes onto the back seat without a moment's hesitation.
"May I keep my shoes sir?" she asked Carl. It took him a moment to reply as the sight of Cathy with her youthful well-toned body was impressive.
When he regained his speech he said, "Sure, shoes and stockings are OK. Even garter belts would be OK."
While this was going on Betty had undressed. She was a bit older and heavier but still very attractive. She went back to the trunk and pulled out a pair of hobbles with about an eighteen-inch chain and some handcuffs.
I said, "I wish I'd known, we would have brought some of our gear." Carl rooted around in the trunk but came up empty and apologetic. I asked if there wasn't some rope around. He cheered up and fetched some from what must have been a tack room at one time.
I had Cathy turn around and tied and cinched her wrists palm to palm. Then I carefully worked her elbows together. I tied her thighs just at the knees. This let her take short steps but would probably play hell with her thigh high stockings. As I final touch I fashioned a rope collar with a bowline knot (this knot doesn't slip closed no matter how hard it is pulled) with the bitter end of the rope dangling between her breasts as a leash. I considered loops around her chest to hold her arms and enhance her lovely breasts but decided that they didn't need enhancement. In any case we were supposed to be working.
While I was doing this Carl had fixed Betty in her restraints and added a leash to her collar. I may be prejudiced but I thought she looked much better with restraints than she had without them a few minutes ago. In any case we made our way across the yard to what appeared to have been designed as a back door. The door was a solid wood affair and it was covered, not by the traditional screen door but a metal mesh security door.
Carl pressed the bell and in a few minutes a rear light came on illuminating us while the inner wooden door swung open. The woman was apparently not a slave as she wore a close fitting dress that covered one shoulder but revealed a stunning figure. She had a regal carriage and bearing but somehow seemed to offer a promise of great, sloppy, animalistic sex. The woman was lovely and I was certain that if Pete had been here he would have been very interested. Hell, who was I kidding? If I hadn't been head over heels in love with Cathy, I would have been interested.
In any case she smiled and said, "Good evening Carl, how nice to see you again. And is that Betty? Please come in." She opened the mesh door and we stepped into a small reception area, paneled in what looked like thick solid wood. At the far end was another heavy door with a keypad. "And who is this?" she asked Carl while glancing at me. Carl introduced me as his friend who was new to the area but heavy into the lifestyle.
Then he said, "Mike, this is The Lady Dianne." The way he said it even the article `the' was capitalized. It sounded like a title.
She explained that they were a very exclusive club and that she would have to ask me a few questions before I was admitted but that Carl and Betty could go ahead in and get comfortable. She keyed the door with her body hiding the keypad from me and let them into the club proper.
We went through the cover story. It was easier and quicker without having to defend the morals of using Mexican labor. And I showed her my driver's license and the credit card. She asked why we hadn't been in the area before and I expanded on the cover story by explaining about the cheap Mexican labor that had kept us located in El Paso, close to the border. Now we were thinking of expanding into the Orient and the San Francisco Bay area had both good Oriental contacts and good flights to the Orient. Accordingly, my corporate offices were in the process of being relocated into the area. She telephoned someone with my license and credit card numbers. Apparently they checked out and she returned with a credit card chit to sign covering my `initiation' fee and the night's admission. I signed with a flourish smiling at the thought of how the amount would annoy the Major.
This seemed to satisfy her and for the first time this evening she looked at Cathy. I thought I saw a smile on her elegant face as she admired Cathy and asked "And this is?"
I gave her a slight upturn of the lips to indicate I wasn't overly annoyed at the questions and responded, "My slave."
That startled her and she looked at me again. I wondered if I had blown it by being too much the superior master but she apparently bought it and responded "Of course sir. This way please." That was the first `sir' I had heard from her and decided that I had probably played it well.
Dianne led us through the second door to a short corridor that led into a large room that had been remodeled to look like a comfortable London club. It was paneled in wood, as had been the small `reception room' but here it was used in a large, well-lit, high ceiling room. There were no windows, ensuring privacy, but alcoves trimmed with rich brocaded curtains gave the impression of windows. At one side stood a bar with a barmaid, who appeared to be going about her duties while nude. On the other side was a slightly raised platform with various devices to secure a slave.
The furnishings were primarily overstuffed leather chairs studded with brass nails. They looked comfortable and inviting and heavy as though someone tied to one wouldn't be able to move. Beside the chairs were small wooded tables, polished to a bright finish with coasters scattered on them. Even the coasters emphasized the London club theme as they were red rimmed squares with pictures of various British Regiments in Victorian uniforms in the center. I noted that while the chairs appeared to be scattered around the room in a haphazard fashion, they had actually been artfully arranged so that anyone seated could observe what was happening on the stage. A medium-sized fireplace (probably gas fired, this was California after all) stood in one corner with the flames adding a cheery note to the room.
Carl was sitting in one of the chairs and holding a drink for Betty who was kneeling at his side. I waved and continued to look around the room. There were a number of other couples all more or less in the same situation with the Master or Mistress seated and the slave kneeling by their side. More about these couples later.
Dianne stood patiently while I took it all in. I smiled at her and said, "This is a very comfortable looking room. My compliments my Lady."
She replied rather archly, "I prefer Lady Dianne or Mistress Dianne, as I am not your Lady. "
I nodded my head in acknowledgment and smiled as I said, "True, to my great regret."
That won me a smile and she continued, "Would Master Mark prefer a tour of the rest of the establishment or would he prefer to spend a bit of time here first?"
I found her manner of speaking, including the use of the third person to reference the person she was talking to, somewhat stilted. Still, together with her `title', it did seem to reinforce the Victorian London theme of the room. I wanted to learn as much as I could about the layout so I replied in the same lightly bantering tone we had been using "Oh, the tour by all means, if it will assure me the pleasure of Lady Dianne's company."
As we continued the tour, I continued to flirt mildly with Dianne. The idea was to keep her mind on the banter while Cathy and I scrutinized the place in some detail. Cathy kept her mouth shut and trailed along behind Diane and me as a proper slave girl might. Still I was certain I would hear her comments on my flirting before the night was out.
The tour was interesting but not astonishing given what we had learned in our research. Apparently the nightly fee included use of any of the spare rooms for up to three hours so long as they were reserved through Dianne. The rooms themselves varied but all had thick walls and doors that spoke of soundproofing and privacy for the occupants.
Several of the rooms had large four-poster beds with ornate metal headboards and footboards. The posts of the bed were connected by decorative but obviously sturdy iron bars at the top as well as the normal lower connections to the bed frame and head and footboards. All in all, though the bed was an attractive place for a romantic coupling it also looked sturdy enough for slinging up one or two suspended slaves. I sort of thought of these rooms as multi-purpose rooms.
Other rooms appeared to be more designed for punishing slaves. The furnishings varied among the rooms. One had a floor to ceiling post with sturdy rings at the top and a number of recessed rings or tie down points in the floor. Another had a whipping bench and the same recessed tie down points. Several rooms had sturdy looking pulleys in the ceiling with ropes threaded through them. These rooms varied. Some had tie down points along the walls, in others the ropes through the pulleys led to a hand cranked winch. One room had a Saint Andrew's Cross and another had a frame with pulleys and tie downs in each corner.
We found one room in use and Dianne pressed an intercom switch and asked the occupant if we might look in for a moment. The mistress (for it was being used by a mistress) agreed and opened the door for us. On her knees on the floor was a very pretty blond with large, obviously surgically enhanced breasts.
No, that's not the right word. They were surgically augmented but not enhanced.
She had bigger breasts, not better breasts. Now you may have gathered from the attention I pay to Cathy's lovely breasts that, like most heterosexual males, I like female breasts. Still part of their charm is their infinite variety and curve and sag, and shape. Plastic (silicone is a plastic) or saline sacs stuffed under the skin are not a turn on.
In any case, the blonde's ankles had been folded back and tied to her thighs. Her wrists were also tied to her thighs and a separate length of rope held her elbows firmly at the sides of her torso. Her mouth wore a ring gag and we could see what appeared to be a stud in her tongue.
As we watched the mistress reached in and pulled her tongue out by the stud. She then slipped two dowels (they may have been chopsticks but appeared sturdier) across the slave girl's mouth over and under the tongue and behind the stud. She made certain the dowels would remain in place by using rubber bands to clamp the two dowels firmly down on the tongue. The slave girl waved the tip of her tongue up and down helplessly but there was no way she could pull it back into her mouth.
"Mandy's been flirting and flicking her tongue at male slaves. Now she is going to be punished and reminded of that tongue's intended use," said the mistress with a smile.
She fastened nipple clamps connected with a chain to the girl's breasts and then pulled her back until the girl was lying flat on her back on the floor. Her breasts were even more obviously an artificial creation as they remained large and round atop the slave's chest with little or no flattening. The mistress snapped a rope dangling from the ceiling to the nipple clamp chain. Then she pulled the other end of the rope until the slave's nipples were pulled painfully toward the ceiling. That girl wasn't going to be able to twitch or wiggle without some fierce pain.
The mistress retrieved a whippy cane, straddled the slave's head and began to lash the slave's inner thighs and the fleshy outer lips of her vagina. Ouch! She had good control of the cane and avoided the slit, at least for the moment, but it was apparent where the cane would ultimately wind up. The slave girl moaned and shrieked, and we moved on closing the door behind us; and cutting off all sounds from the room.
There were eight rooms in all and Dianne gave me the full tour. On the way back to the main room I asked if slaves were always punished in the private rooms. Dianne laughed and answered, "On no. Most of the time the owners punish them in public on the little stage in the main lounge. I think that those two are in the private room because she want to make use of Mandy's clever little tongue and she doesn't want everyone watching her orgasm."
I asked about the upper story of the building and was told that that was her (Dianne's) living quarters and strictly off limits to the clubs `guests'. She thought a minute and then added with an appraising glance, "Unless, of course, a guest is invited, which would be a rare event." I didn't turn but I swear I could feel daggers in my back from Cathy's eyes. I knew that I'd better get Pete out here before I really got myself into trouble.
"I have an associate on the east coast. Actually he is my east coast marketing manager. He gets out to corporate headquarters frequently and might be interested in the club. I don't think he has a slave or significant playmate on this coast. What would the club rules be on bringing him out to visit?"
"As a guest without a partner his nightly fee would be double yours and he would only be welcome when he was with a club member. It might be a good idea to bring him along next time he is on the coast. He could always keep your slave tied down if you wanted another tour of the premises."
Ouch. I think the daggers that Cathy had been glaring at me had grown to axes; large heavy battle axes. Dianne's suggestion was just too obvious. I was going to hear about this tonight no matter how submissive Cathy was.
By this time we had returned to the main lounge and Dianne excused herself to check out some other guests. I led Cathy over to Carl and Betty and pointed at a spot on the floor next to a vacant chair. Cathy gracefully sank to her knees; which is no mean feat when your knees are tied together. She managed it however, keeping her head bowed and her demeanor perfect for the illusion we were creating. Whatever she thought about Dianne or about my rather mild flirting could not be discerned from her demeanor.
I walked over to the bar and ordered a Lagavulin and a glass of tap water from the barmaid. I had thought she was nude but now that I was close enough to see over the bar I found I was only partly correct. She wore something that looked like a chastity belt that apparently held both a large butt plug and a dildo well seated into her. The belt, which was padlocked in the rear, had a ring on the front through which ran a chain to her wrist cuffs. She had enough chain so that she could reach both hands to about the middle of the bar. To reach further with one hand she had to pull the other hand close to the ring.
The girl was quite pretty with a good set of breasts that looked both firm and natural. It was fun watching them bounce and sway as she reached for bottles and glasses.
Oh yes, the Lagavulin. I had once been on a joint mission with the Royal Marines and some strange civilian type. Of course no one explained to me who he was or what he was doing. Our job was to get him somewhere, watch the area while he did whatever it was that he did and then bring him safely back. At the end of the project he insisted that all members of the team join him in a nearby, off base pub to celebrate the success of his mission. The officers accepted his desire as if it was a command and ignored the usual rules about fraternization. The entire team, dressed in civilian clothes, went to the pub.
Several pints into the evening it somehow came out that I had never tasted Scotch single malt whiskey. Don't ask how the conversation came around to this; just accept it. In truth I don't remember how we got to that point. I also don't remember much of what happened after that point. I dimly remember having to taste all of the different single malt whiskeys (I believe there are sixteen distinct and different ones). Of course once a drink was poured it would be impolite not to finish it so I had to drink all sixteen (I think) shot glasses. I don't remember much else, but the smoky and delicious taste of Lagavulin somehow penetrated my mind.
In any case. I felt that my cover story as the wealthy owner of both a company and a slave girl precluded my ordering my usual bottle of beer. So I ordered the Lagavulin that was as smooth and delicious as I remembered it. The water was for Cathy and I held it to her lips and let her drink.
I chatted with Carl, stroked Cathy's head as one might a pet dog, and surveyed the other people in the room. There were six couples which, when added to the mistress, whose name I never caught, dealing with the best use of Mandy's tongue in the private room, accounted for seven of the eight cars we saw parked in the barn. The eighth car was either Dianne's or, if she parked elsewhere, perhaps the bartender's.
Of the six couples all were clearly a master or mistress and a slave. One couple was two women, one was a mistress with a man and the others were male masters and female slaves or at least subs. All of the slaves, except Cathy (including Cathy if you counted the makeshift rope collar) wore a collar and were bound in one form or another.
The male slave had his hands bound behind his back and pulled up towards his collar. He didn't kneel but was in some sort of strange crouch. At least it was strange until I saw how he was fastened. He had a rigid spreader bar between his ankles. From the center of the spreader bar a shaft rose and disappeared into his anus. He couldn't lift himself off the shaft however because a loop of cord around his scrotum passed down around and under the spreader bar and then up to where it was fastened to a belt around his waist. From time to time his mistress would untie the rope from his waist and pull on it forcing him deeper onto the shaft and then tie it off again.
He was apparently aroused by this treatment as his penis was painfully erect. I say painfully because it was encased in a device called the "Gates of Hell". This is a series of five linked rings that circled and constrained his penis. As he had grown hard his penis expanded and the constricting rings appeared to dig deeper and deeper into it.
I couldn't see much of the slave in the female couple. She was kneeling between her mistress's legs and had her face buried in the mistress' pussy. Apparently this woman didn't share the concern about public orgasms like Mandy's mistress.
While I was still checking out the others in the room one of the female slaves apparently did something to offend her master. I didn't actually see the offense but I did see the result. The master snapped a leash on her collar and dragged her onto the stage where he tied her to a sawhorse similar to the one we had seen in the club show. The only difference was that he bound each wrist individually so that each limb was lashed to a leg of the sawhorse. He used a cane to whip her rather than a flogger, and this was no tourist show. The strokes were hard and came rapidly. She began to scream and beg for mercy at about the third stroke. Each stroke created an angry bright red line that slowly widened and faded to a purple line. I wasn't really counting but I think he gave her 20 or 25 strokes. She fainted once during the ordeal but he snapped an ampoule of smelling salts under her nose before completing the punishment.
This was pretty nasty stuff but I managed to keep a poker face. I glanced at Cathy and she was wide-eyed at the force and brutality of the punishment but as I glanced about, many of the slaves wore the same wide-eyed look.
I couldn't learn much about the others in the room as everyone seemed to be chatting with friends and, like Carl and me, did little to mingle. I did note two men sitting off to one side with very pretty, rather young slaves girls. The girls were young and pretty but most of the women slaves in the room looked very attractive. Perhaps it is just that I find bondage enhances a woman's natural beauty. In any case there was nothing exceptional about the slave girls, except, perhaps, that they both wore ball gags. Only about half the slaves in the room were gagged. The rest, like Cathy and Betty, maintained a respectful silence without a gag.
No, the reason I noted these two men was that they had a kind of hardness about them. It was nothing you could put your finger on but I would have bet anything that they were ex-military men. This contrasted with the rest of the masters in the room who had a more rounded, softer look about them. They might buy or own a slave but didn't seem like the sort to train or create a slave. These two could be imagined as tough enough to bend or break and train a woman from a free person to a slave.
I asked Carl if he knew who they were. He said that he had seen them here frequently and that he thought that they might have had some business connection to Dianne's. He thought they might be involved in helping people locate suitable slaves. This was getting interesting but before I could get more information we were distracted by another master dragging his slave to the stage.
This master was more subtle than the first. He fastened his slave between two posts in a sort of standing spread eagle and then proceeded to arouse her by stroking and caressing her. When she was near orgasm he stopped and picked up a light flogger and began whipping her from breasts to belly. You could tell as her skin reddened that he was striking hard enough to sting if not actually hurt. After a few minutes he went back to arousing her with his hands. This cycle of arousal, denial and light pain was repeated time after time. When her begging and pleading became too loud he gagged her and continued. The torment was exquisite and lengthy. Eventually he left her hanging there and returned to his seat while she writhed in unsatisfied desire.
Another master, one of the two tough guys (as I had mentally labeled them) took his slave onto the stage and fastened her on a table with her butt hanging over the end. After fastening her legs to a spreader bar he hoisted her legs until they pointed up in a wide V that pointed to her pussy. He then suspended a large vibrator from the spreader bar so that the head just touched her clitoris. He turned it on and went back to his chair. The powerful vibrations soon had the girl aroused and twisting from side to side. Of course each time she twisted the vibrator swung away from her pussy, denying her the orgasm she wanted. It was simple and neat. When she stopped moving the buzzing vibrator aroused her forcing her to move. When she moved the vibrator broke contact and she came back down from her, oh so near, peak of arousal.
Carl indicated that he had to get to work the next day and asked politely if we were ready to go. I didn't want to press him to stay and in any case I wanted to tell Pete what we had found and see what he had discovered. I said my farewell to our `hostess' and received a business card with a map on the back, showing how to return to the club. Cathy, who was still kneeling next to my chair may not have liked my quiet conversation with Dianne but knew better than to make any sort of a fuss in public.
We took the women back to the car. Carl removed Betty's handcuffs and leg shackles and I untied Cathy's thighs. I decided to leave her hands and elbows bound so I pulled her sweater over her head and down over her torso. In getting the back of the sweater down I pulled her to me and rubbed my chest against her so that the material of the sweater rubbed across her nipples. Cathy knew what I was doing but there was no reaction, either to my stretching a perfectly good sweater over her arms or to my playing with her nipples. It could have just been that Cathy was keeping up her submissive slave girl role but I felt it was an indication that I was in deep s--t with her. I finished getting her back into her skirt and buckled her into the rear seat.
Carl drove us home and we exchanged telephone numbers. He thanked us again for helping them get out of the biker bar and I thanked him for introducing us to "Lady Dianne's". We all agreed that, after we got out of the biker bar, it had been a very nice evening and that we would have to do it again some time soon. I noted that Betty joined in the conversation but Cathy remained silent.
When we got home and said our good-byes I got us inside and closed the front door. Then I grabbed Cathy and turned her to face me. After all, Marines don't pussyfoot around. I held both of her shoulders, looked her in both eyes and said, "Always Faithful, Cathy!"
Then the dam broke. "It sure didn't seem like that tonight," she sobbed.
"Cathy, I know I was flirting, but it was all right out in front of you. I thought if I could keep Dianne flirting she wouldn't have time to be thinking about our cover story and she would accept us easier. I could have left you with Carl and Batty and gone off alone with Dianne if I had wanted to, but I didn't. You know I love you."
"Well, how about when we were getting ready to leave?"
I showed her the card with the map on the back and told her that she had no cause to feel jealous and that I loved her and her alone. I unzipped her skirt and let it fall and pulled her sweater up over her head.
"Hey, be careful," she said "that's a perfectly good sweater and you're going to stretch it out of shape."
Cathy was back and I breathed a sigh of relief...perhaps just a tad too soon.
I started to massage Cathy's shoulders from behind and she commented, "She was very pretty, wasn't she?"
Now I've had occasion to negotiate mine fields where one wrong step can lead to serious injury. It felt kind of like this moment. You can't pretend you didn't hear the question, she will just repeat it in a more demanding tone of voice. You can't say no because she will know you are lying. On the other hand, if you say yes too enthusiastically, boom, the mine goes off. I replied, "Yes she was, in a carefully applied makeup kind of way." And I held my breath.
"She did have a lot of gunk around her eyes, didn't she?"
Released breath. The minefield had been successfully negotiated. The last question was rhetorical and required no answer. I shifted subjects by returning to massage her shoulders and asking if she wanted me to untie her elbows and hands.
"Not just yet. I like the feel of ropes when you tie me. It feels like you have your arms around me and I feel loved."
Not being a complete fool I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her back to rest against me. She wriggled up against me and sort of half growled, half purred in what I can only describe as a feline gesture. Now be clear on this. If Cathy was a feline she was no pussycat. She was a feral lioness. Well she was a bit petite for a lioness; perhaps she was a feral panther or cougar.
As I held her I could feel her bound hands searching for my groin. This was a very pleasant cuddle and holding a lovely, intelligent, high-spirited, tightly bound woman was one heck of an aphrodisiac. A master's work is never done, however, and it was time to assert my dominance.
"You know jealous slave girls are sulky and sulky slave girls set spanked," I whispered in her ear.
She turned around and smiled at me and answered, "Promises, promises, promises."
It took very little time to get to a chair sit down and pull her face down across my lap. I began to spank her, but after each swat I caressed and massaged her buttocks with occasional trips of my fingers down the cleft of her ass and to her rapidly warming pussy. Things were just getting interesting when Pete opened the door and came in.
"Hey, you guys, get a room!"
I sat Cathy up on my lap (and she wriggled around enough to ensure that I was hard and uncomfortably aroused) and began to recount what had happened that night. When I got to the part about the fight in the biker bar he asked some questions about how big the girl had been. He asked Cathy, "How long did you think before the knee drop?"
Cathy thought back for a moment before she responded, "I didn't really think. As she started down I just let go of her arm and leapt while she was still falling."
"Good!" said Pete. "If you are going to do that sort of thing you have to do it fast. If she had been smart enough or had enough time to roll to the side you could have landed on the floor with all your weight on your knee cap and seriously hurt yourself."
"Pete, it was pure poetry in motion. I wish you could have been there to see it. You would have been as proud of Cathy as I was."
I resumed our story, telling Pete how we met Carl and Betty and what transpired afterwards. When I got to `Lady Dianne' Pete interrupted and asked if she was attractive. "Yes," I responded.
"In a carefully applied makeup kind of way," Cathy and I said in unison. We began to laugh and Pete looked at us as though we were out of our collective minds.
Cathy said, "She was gorgeous: very regal bearing but with lots of sex appeal. Not just sex appeal but hot sweaty rolling in the dirt sex appeal."
I, prudent fellow that I was, said nothing further about Dianne but went on recounting what we had seen. Pete became interested again when I described the two hard bodies. When I told Pete how he had punished his gagged slave with the hanging vibrator Pete commented, "That seems like something that could be left simmering for a long time and might get to the woman so much it breaks down her will."
"Yes, very professional. It seems perfect for slave training. Very little effort on the part of the trainer; it can be left in place for hours and could really break down her resistance."
Pete than gave us a blow by blow on his night. He had gotten to all three of the clubs on his list and found, more or less, what we had found in our first club. The three of us talked tactics for a while. We agreed that Dianne's place was too good to pass up.
Cathy suggested we give it a day off and then go back. Since I had already mentioned visits by my `east coast marketing manager' I could tell Dianne that I wanted to have more than one slave. This was not only so that I could enjoy the variety (at this point she stuck her tongue out at me) but also so that I would have one to offer my guest. Then I could ask Dianne if she knew where I might be able to purchase another slave.
We worried this one back and forth for a while and in the end agreed that it might be a good way to introduce the subject. It was late, or rather early morning, by this time and I suggested we hit the racks. After all, I had a spanking to finish.