Thoroughly Whipped

A high-pitched scream cut through the hypnotic music, and my head snapped to the left. My mouth fell open as I clapped eyes on a woman, wearing an outfit made only from leather straps, tied to a St Andrew’s Cross. She was getting whipped by a man in a gold mask, carved with an evilly laughing mouth. Pink welts littered her skin. The man saw my interest.

“Come. I’d be honored to flog you too.”

“I would, but I…erm…I have too sensitive skin,” I said, mumbling my words. “I bruise like a peach.” The man bowed at me then went back to whipping his partner. I tried to seek out the other sirens. My stomach rolled when I saw them joining couples, some entering other rooms.

Come on, Faith, I said to myself. Stop being such a pussy.

I moved through each room, the sights melting into one libidinous blur. Two women were strung up from the ceiling by ropes like roasting hogs at a barbeque. Human tables and chairs were scattered around the floor, people’s feet and drinks resting on their backs. Men and men kissed, women and women groped, and orgies ten people deep rolled on the biggest beds I’d ever seen.

My feet faltered when I saw men dressed as ponies trotting by, a mistress in red PVC holding their reins and whipping them with a large crop when they displeased her. My head throbbed in sync with the trance music at sights I’d only ever seen in films. Hell, some I’d never seen at all. Amelia had been right. This was more than I’d ever bargained for.

A “pony” stopped beside me. The mistress ran her crop down my arm. “Are you interested?” she asked.

Pony play was too friggin’ much for me. “Sorry. I’m allergic to horses,” I said and scurried away, face blazing at my stupid excuse. I needed a break. I needed to gather my thoughts and kick my own ass for being such a wimp.

I searched for somewhere to go, unable to find my way around. I passed fully stocked bars, where NOX members lounged and drank, laughing with friends like they were at any other bar in Manhattan. Thong-wearing submissives acted as tables. One man lifted his sub’s face and pushed her between his legs without interrupting his conversation with his friend. His jaw clenched as she blew him in front of us. Then I turned to my right, just as a woman smashed her crotch over the face of a man wrapped in chains beneath her.

“Queening,” I whispered, a traitorous nervous laugh slipping from my mouth as I imagined Amelia’s face, seeing this in action.

I saw what I assumed was a bathroom beside the main bar. After darting across the floor, avoiding the many offers flying my way, I pushed through the door…only to stop dead in my tracks. It wasn’t a bathroom. It was a dark room with several swings attached to metal frames, some wooden crosses, and I couldn’t make out what else. Four women were swinging from the leather swings, which held their wrists and ankles. I began backing away. “Sorry,” I said to the man in the center, holding a whip made of horsehair.

“Join us,” he said, “we have room to spare.” I started shaking my head. I backed away, praying I’d find the door that second. My shoulder bumped a metal pole, knocking me offtrack. I stumbled in my heels, but I managed to find purchase on the frame of an empty swing, which stopped me from hitting the floor.

It all happened so fast. My unsteady grip on the metal swing caused it to topple over…knocking down all the other swings in the room. It was a cacophony of metal crashing against metal and screams from the women tied up in leather swings and unable to get away. I tried to help the man stop the wreckage, but it was in vain.

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as the bar staff entered the room to help. When the final crash of metal ended, I felt several pairs of eyes fixed on me.

“Whoops,” I said, grimacing under my veil.

A hand landed on my back. Through my veil I saw the familiar Venetian mask of the “sir” who had been tasked with watching over us tonight. He led me through the club. I kept my eyes to the floor. I’d fucked up. I was going to get thrown out. I just knew it. Sadness swept through me. I wouldn’t get the feature. Sally was going to kill me.

Sir led me to the room we had started in that night. “Are you okay?” he asked. I wanted to cry at how nice he was being to me.

“Yes.” I sighed. “Believe me when I say this is nothing new to me. I’m a bit of a calamity.”

“No one was hurt,” he said, but there was also no reassurance that I wasn’t about to be thrown out on my lace-clad ass. Sir started to say something, but the phone on the wall rang. It made me jump. Sir answered it. I tried to hear who was on the other end, but I couldn’t. “Okay, Maître.”