“No? I reckon I could convince you. I think you may be right about this stuff though.” He dumps it back in my freezer and slams the door on it. He turns to look at me, cringing and writhing in front of him. His lip quirks; he always knows how conflicted this arrangement of ours makes me feel. One the one hand I love the kinky things he does to me, but the discipline aspect is something I am still working my head around. He grins. “Do you fancy going out later?”
“Out? But I thought… I mean, don’t you want to…?”
“Spank you? Fuck you? Make you scream? Yes, obviously. I thought we might drive to Sheffield.”
“Sheffield! You mean Fairlawns? You want to go to the club? With me?”
“Yeah. I thought you might enjoy it more if you had a companion, someone to share the fun with.”
I would, definitely. I’ve been thinking about this prospect myself, but would not have raised the matter. For one thing, there’s the possibility of running into David. That would be awkward to say the least. “That would be nice, yes. I would like that. But, what about…?”
“David? Don’t worry about him. There’ll be no problem.”
“I see.” In fact I don’t see at all, but there’s no point in dwelling on that. “When would you like to go?”
“We’ll eat first, then a shower, followed perhaps by a slow, comfortable fuck before you get your glad rags on. You do have some suitable fetish gear, I take it?”
“Yes, sir. It’s been a couple of months since my red and black Lycra has seen the light of day. It’s due an airing.”
“Sounds like it.” Right, food…” He mounts a raid on my salad tray in the fridge, tossing onions, mushrooms, carrots, and spring greens onto the worktop. “Where’s that chicken you mentioned? Do you have any soy sauce?”
I rush to help assemble the ingredients as I contemplate the evening to come. Ewan didn’t dismiss the notion of applying his belt to me, so I have no illusions about that. It’s coming, and soon. The question is, will it be here, before we leave, or at Fairlawns? In front of an audience even?
It strikes me as odd that this is not a prospect I want to reject out of hand. Being publicly thrashed by a stranger would hold no appeal, but with Ewan, it seems different. Intimate, and safe. I relax and set to chopping vegetables.
* * *
I didn’t go for the Lycra after all. I’m wearing my red leather corset, laced tight by Ewan, much more constricting this evening than it has been previously when I’ve had to fasten it myself. A black suspender belt and stockings, a pair of spiky red stiletto heels, and a scrap of lace masquerading as a thong complete my outfit. Except for the collar. This is a new twist.
As we were ready to leave my house, Ewan pulled the leather collar from his pocket and asked me to kneel while he put it on me. Without question I dropped to my knees,my heart fluttering as he fastened the leather strap in place.
“Putting a collar on a sub is a serious matter, it indicates a binding commitment, on both sides. It’s not done lightly. If you were my collared sub for real you’d wear a collar at all times, but this one is just for the club. It shows you’re with a dom and it will discourage attention from others. I think you’ll feel more comfortable wearing it.”
At Ewan’s nod of permission I get to my feet and pull my long raincoat over my clothes. No point causing undue gossip among the neighbours if anyone happens to be peering through their net curtains and spots me heading next door to Ewan’s driveway where his car is parked.
“Thank you, sir.” He’s right. Already I’m experiencing a sense of belonging, of peace and security. My trepidation evaporates. I’m with Ewan, he’s in charge, he’ll take care of me and nothing will happen that I don’t want. I’m intensely conscious of the collar now; every time I move my head it nudges my chin or my jaw. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just—there.
The drive to Sheffield is pleasant. I’m looking forward to visiting Fairlawns again, this time with an attractive dom at my side. A dom whose collar I am wearing. I approach the place in a very different frame of mind this evening,
Ewan parks in front of the large house and walks around the car to open my door for me. He holds my hand as we walk across the car park towards the entrance, giving my fingers a quick squeeze just before he rings the doorbell. The door is opened by the same imposing man I met on my first visit here.
He recognises Ewan immediately. “Mr. Lord, how nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, I’ve been busy. Travelling a lot.”
“Of course, of course. But you’re here now. And with a companion I see…” His attention turns to me, and I catch the slight frown of almost-recognition. “Miss…? I think we’ve seen you here before too…?
“Faith is a member, but she hasn’t been for a couple of months. I wanted to show her what she’s been missing.”
“Of course, Mr. Lord. Quite. Enjoy your evening, both of you.” He returns to his station just inside the main door, and Ewan shepherds me across the shining tiles of the huge entrance hall. We stop at the reception desk for a few minutes to sign in. Ewan raises his eyebrows in an amused grin as the receptionist checks my membership number, then greets me as ‘Charity.’
“I didn’t want to use my real name.” I mutter the words at him as we make our way to the communal play room. “No one seemed to mind. It seemed to be expected.”
“A lot of members prefer to remain anonymous. Charity it is then. When anyone else is listening.” He opens the door at the end of the hall and I precede him into the room.
The familiar darkness envelops me. It is comforting, a soft blanket to subdue the atmosphere and create a sense of privacy. I know that to be an illusion, as strategically placed lighting casts pools of illumination where they most matter, on the equipment and apparatus ranged around the room. And of course, on the members already making use of the facilities.
I was always taught that it’s rude to stare, so I try to pretend that I’m not, even though in my head I know it’s okay to look my fill. Everything that happens here is entirely public; people are encouraged to watch. For many of the participants this is an essential part of their kink; they crave the audience, and their ambition is to make voyeurs of us all.
