As soon as we walk in the club, which is literally underground, there’s a line we wait in for nearly ten minutes. Guess they are thorough when checking identification.
While we wait, Natalie tells me a little bit about the various areas inside, and how the employees are all wearing silver gladiator masks most nights in case I need any assistance. Apparently, there are also panic buttons in the private rooms, but what help would those be if you’re strung up on one of the crosses or whatever else she said there is to be tied to.
“Have you ever…you know, gone in one of the rooms?” I can’t help but ask.
“Oh, yeah. A few times. The pillory is my favorite. I prefer paddles and belts over whips.”
“Pillory?”
“Yeah, with my head and hands trapped but my backside out.”
“Right.”
“If you want to try something but are nervous, I could join you. You know, to observe.”
“Ah, I think I’ll just keep to the public spaces.”
“Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’ll probably be in the public pillory, letting guys take turns spanking me.”
“That’s…that’s all they do?”
“In the public space, yeah. More only happens if I agree to go into a private room. One of the monitors stands by each of the areas and notifies the participants what tools are acceptable to the sub on display.”
“It seems like you would have to give up a lot of control to do something like that…”
“I have more control than you think. For instance, I can tell the guardian, that’s what the monitors are called, I can tell them how many spanks each guy gets, and I can decide if I want to see who is next before they begin. I like not knowing though. Sometimes, you can find the perfect match for the dynamic without letting looks or whatever else get in the way.”
“So, there are a lot of ugly guys here?” I ask in concern.
“Oh, no. But maybe if you have a thing for tall guys and never gave a short one a chance, and he turns out to know exactly what buttons of yours to push — that sort of thing.”
“Oh-kay.”
“Do you have a type?”
“Ah, no, not really. I’ve just been with a lot of nice, submissive men who want to only treat me with respect.”
“While you wanted to be treated like a dirty girl?”
I shrug, not sure how to put it into words. “Something like that.”
Once it’s finally our turn to check in, I hand over my ID, then my phone and purse for which the man at the desk gives me a ticket to collect it on the way out. That could be five minutesfrom now or maybe ten. I’m still not completely sold on the whole premise. I want to see it for myself, but then I’ll probably chicken out and leave.
At least the employee was discreet as he read my name on my license and checked it in the computer system. He didn’t even bat an eye. Maybe he doesn’t follow politics.
“Step over there for your pat down. Be sure to cooperate, or else you’ll have to deal with the consequences,” the desk guy says with a wink. He’s wearing one of the silver gladiator masks like the men doing the security pat downs. I nod and wait for the next available guard while Natalie checks in behind me.
“Right over here,” one of the men says with a wave of his hand. I step toward the guard who is taller and broader than the others by several inches. There’s a smirk on his face underneath his silver mask, and his eyes look so dark they’re nearly black. I should probably be afraid of the intimidating man, but I’m not as I eye his broad shoulders and bare arms since he’s wearing a toga-type garment like the others. Natalie mentioned it was the theme tonight, so I guess my white strapless dress will fit in just fine.
“Remove your coat,” he directs me. “You’ll get it back with your phone.” I shrug out of the warm fabric, bracing for the cool air. When I offer it to the man, he hands it off to someone else who places my phone in a clear bag and hangs both on a coat hanger.
Without further warning, the guard’s hands reach for me, starting at the back of my head. His chest, with dark tattoos peeking out of the fabric, is nearly pressed to my face, making me gasp in surprise. Large palms work their way down to my neck, then my shoulders, before following the curves of my sides and hips. He kneels before me to run his hands down my bare legs to my ankles, even though there are obviously no weapons in sight. I knew better than to bring my handgun here.
I remain completely still out of shock while a pool of desire begins to grow in my lower belly.
“Turn around and put your hands on the wall. Keep them there,” the man orders me. His voice is deep and hard, full of dominance I find ridiculously attractive. I do as I’m told, and his palms feel along the back of my dress, down to my waist. He grabs two handfuls of my ass, making me gasp. I lower my hands and try to spin around.
Strong hands on my hips keep me in place, though. I glance over my shoulder just in time to watch the man haul back and slap my ass, making me squeak in surprise. Those big hands flatten me to the wall so quickly, I barely turn my head in time to avoid busting my nose.
