Thoroughly Whipped

“Right. Gotcha,” I said, feeling like Alice stepping into a really perverted Wonderland, and looked at the rest of my “uniform”. A black velvet bustier, black French lace barely-there pants, stockings, and stripper heels. There was something else on a hook, but I failed to comprehend what it was.

“You gave us your sizes on the form you filled out.” Bunny indicated for me to enter. “Your clothes will be stored until it is time to go home.” Purple eyes stared at me as I moved into the booth. Bunny didn’t move. I gave her a tight smile when I realized she was going to watch me undress. As I shed my trench coat and dress, Bunny remained unmoving.

“Pussy shaved?” she asked and edged closer to me as I pulled down my panties. Her mouth kicked up at the side. “Good.” She winked at me. “Nice lips.” I knew she wasn’t talking about the ones around my mouth.

“Thank you?” I said, my response lilting up like a question. I was a confident woman. But even I was feeling slight nerves at all of this.

I took a deep breath, shed my bra, and stood there in the nude, trying to pretend that it was no different than being at the gym. I’d never been to the gym, of course, but I’d heard about women swinging low and free, legs perched on benches as they aired out their nether-regions and chatted about the day’s events, their cheating husbands, and the pool boys they were screwing in secret in the guest house.

“You get hot in that thing?” I asked Bunny, pointing to her catsuit, trying for small talk as I put on my French lace panties, stockings, and garters.

“My master enjoys PVC.”

“That a yes?” I smiled, winking at her this time.

At her mute response, I tried to put on my bustier with zero success. Bunny’s hands quickly took over, and she started tying the laces for me. She yanked on the laces, swiftly ripping the air from my lungs. My hands slapped on the wall in front of me to keep my balance.

“Shit. Careful,” I said.

Bunny kept pulling and pulling until I was sure she’d cracked a few ribs. “Can you breathe?” she asked sweetly.

“No!” I squeaked.

“Perfect,” she said and fastened the laces. She bent down and placed the new heels on my feet. I was glad; I feared if I tried to bend over, I’d crash headfirst into the wall and be unable to get back up.

Bunny reached for the one item of clothing I couldn’t make out. I could barely see over my cleavage, it was thrust so high up my chest, but as she stroked the semi opaque fabric, I suddenly realized what it was. “A veil?”

“A veiled mask.” She placed it on my head and hooked a clasp at the back of my skull to keep it in place. The lace fabric fell over my face, dropping to the bottom of my neck, inhibiting my sight. A curtain of black beads created a second layer over the lace. I could only see through it a little. I guessed that was the point of the design.

“Our greatest rule here at NOX is to keep our faces covered at all times.” Bunny’s mouth went close to my ear. “It might seem daunting at first. But believe me, you will love it. It is like nothing else, taking pleasure anonymously. You will feel freer than you ever have before once you just let go.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“At no time will you remove this veil,” Bunny said, back to business. “If you show your true identity at any point, you will be vacated from the club. Maître will not tolerate any form of disobedience. It does not matter how much or little you have paid for a membership, the rule is absolute. Do you understand?”

“Maître?” I asked, my journalist’s ears pricking up almost as tall as Bunny’s. Maître. French for master. The rumors of a French ruling master were almost as famous as the club itself.

Bunny gave the first wide smile I’d seen from her. “Our Maître. The master of the club. The architect of all of this.” Her voice changed from the monotone I had become accustomed to into an excited and heated lilt.

Stepping back to admire her work, Bunny nodded and took the black leather cuffs and, as gentle as a mouse, began fastening them to my wrists. I stared down, able to see her delicate hands locking them firmly in place. I stared at the sight, unable to look away. I was here. I was a NOX siren. And I was suddenly terrified.

“There,” Bunny said, skirting her finger up my bare arms. “You are perfection now. Civilian clothes are so dull. There’s nothing like lace and leather and latex to make you embrace your femininity.”