The club is out of the city centre, but my satnav gets me there without too much trouble. It’s a detached house, large, imposing, surrounded by lawns and block paved parking. I sit in my car for maybe fifteen minutes, looking at the grand doorway and working hard to convince myself of the wisdom of this enterprise. I’m not entirely successful, and it takes some courage to walk up to that huge door alone, but I manage to do it.
My knock is answered by a tall, slim man wearing a formal suit. He asks if I’m a member. I say no, but I’d like to join. He smiles, offers me a polite bow, and gestures me towards a desk just inside the door where a young woman sits. Her gaze is friendly, expectant.
“Susan, this lady would like a guest membership for the evening, please.” He turns back to me. “Please give your details to Susan and she’ll explain how things work. Welcome to Fairlawns. We don’t expect you to pay for tonight; you will be our guest. Enjoy your evening with us. After you’ve sampled our facilities, if you still want to takeout a full membership, we’d be delighted to welcome you.” With that he returns to his station by the door, ready to meet and greet other new arrivals.
The very normality of my welcome reassures me, despite being alone in an environment I find alien in just about every respect. Once inside though, I find that being here on my own isn’t an issue. Susan takes my name and address, asks me what name I prefer to be known by whilst at Fairlawns.
I hadn’t considered that aspect, but decide a pseudonym feels more appropriate. I tell her I’ll be called Charity, as this seems a fair enough variant on Faith. Hope is for another place entirely.
She nods and makes a note on her system and tells me that the club uses standard safe words—red, amber, green, the traffic lights system. That makes sense. The formalities concluded Susan directs me to a room where I can change if I want to before entering the communal playroom. She recommends I start there, but assures me I’m free to make use of any facilities I like. She goes on to explain that Fairlawns employs staff to offer help and advice, and to ensure safety rules are adhered to. I should not hesitate to ask if I have any questions, and they will demonstrate how to use the equipment.
I feel welcome, no one hassles me, I just watch. And learn.
At first I’m self-conscious, I feel like a voyeur, intruding on the privacy of others. Submissives, both male and female, in various states of undress though no one is entirely nude, are stretching themselves out on benches or allowing themselves to be secured to various pieces of equipment. They seem to welcome the spankings and floggings that are administered to various parts of their bodies, and even in one case a caning. I confess that last brought tears to my eyes as well as to the male submissive on the receiving end, but it was also clear that the pain was welcomed, celebrated. There were no victims here, justwilling, enthusiastic participants watched over by discreet staff.
I soon get past my early discomfort, helped along by the genuine friendliness of the people here. A female member of staff suggests I might enjoy a demonstration of wax play. I’m intrigued, I have no notion of what this might be but I make my way to the side room indicated. Here I find three rows of seats all facing an open area at the front of the room. Most of the seats are occupied already, though I see a couple of spare chairs in the middle row. A young man wearing leather pants, a leather waistcoat, and a collar moves along one place to make room for me. I thank him and sit down.
A few minutes pass, then a door at the front opens and a couple emerge. The woman, wearing only a thong and a pair of killer heels, is accompanied by a man who looks as though he’s just come from working in an office. Smart grey trousers, a white shirt, grey tie, he’s attractive but does not fit my internal image of a dom. I suppose I expected whips and handcuffs, not this subdued respectability.
Another member of the Fairlawns staff follows them into the room wheeling a trolley, which she positions against a wall. There are several small pots on the trolley, some squat candles, and a piece of plastic sheeting, folded up. The man thanks her, and she leaves. He turns to us, his smile confident and quite dazzling.
“Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Matthew, and may I introduce Melanie…?” He holds out his hand to the woman who steps forward, bows her head to us, then kneels at his feet. Matthew lays his palm on the top of her head. Her features are serene, and in that moment I envy her certainty about the lifestyle she so clearly loves.
“This evening Melanie and I will be sharing with you the art of wax play, but first a few safety issues you need tobe aware of…” Matthew goes on to explain about the use of low temperature wax, keeping a first aid kit and a fire extinguisher handy. He advises against restraining the receiving partner, and suggests protecting furniture and carpets because wax can be messy. At this point he picks up the plastic sheeting, shakes it out, and spreads it on the floor.
He murmurs something to Melanie, who stands, walks to one end of the sheeting, then lies down on it, on her back.
I sit, entranced, as Matthew lights one candle after another, all the while pacing around Melanie, stopping to dribble hot wax onto her body. At first he does this from a standing position, but as the demonstration progresses he shifts to using melted wax from the pots, and paints this onto her using either his fingers or a brush. He paints designs onto her body, circling her nipples in red, her breasts in a shade of cerise, then working his way down her torso, across her stomach, then over her inner thighs.
She hisses from time to time, wriggling occasionally, but for the most part she remains quite immobile, her eyes closed as she submits to this. I am fascinated, as much by Melanie’s submissive mind-set as by the tableau unfolding before us. Even so, Matthew is quite an artist; his designs are both intricate and erotic. Despite Melanie’s almost-nudity, the overall impression created is one of artistic sensuality rather than overt sexuality.
The demonstration draws to a close with Matthew advising on ways to remove the wax, though I can’t help thinking that would be a pity. Melanie’s adorned body looks quite breath-taking.
I enjoy my evening at Fairlawns. I drive home again after three hours, much enlightened, intrigued, encouraged, and vowing to be back again the following weekend. And every weekend, until Ewan returns.
The first time I’m offered a spanking I refuse. I’m polite, but firm. Despite my rampant and as yetunassuaged libido, I tell myself I have no desire to actually indulge. I’m just—interested.
The next time such an offer comes my way I accept. The dom who approaches me in the playroom is friendly, pleasant. His smile is warm and my answering smile comes naturally. He stands next to me for a couple of minutes as we both watch a dom administer an erotic spanking. The submissive’s bare bottom is already a deep shade of pink, and she’s just starting to emit small yelps of pain with each swat.
“He’s good. And she’s loving that. So far.” His voice is low, perfectly modulated to calm rather than unnerve me.
“Er, yes. I suppose so.”
“You suppose?”
“No, no of course not. Sheisloving it.”
“Wouldyoulove it, Miss…?”
“Charity. My name is Charity and… yes, I think I might.” I intended to tell him no. I intended to thank him for his kind offer, but to turn it down. I have no idea where ‘yes’ came from, but having said it, I am not turning back.
“I think so too. Shall we?” He introduces himself as David and gestures towards a spare spanking bench a few feet away. I walk over to it, then turn to him. I have absolutely no idea what to do next.
“First time?” He hitches one hip on the edge of the bench, his arms folded across his chest.
Embarrassed, I nod. “Is that all right? I mean, I’ll understand if you prefer…”
“It’s fine, Charity. A nice, gentle introduction, then. Would you like that?”
