hardly wait. I bet it will hurt like hell. In fact, if I close my eyes and use my imagination I can almost see the welts right here.” He put his hand on her ass and he taunted her cruelly, with no hint of his former affection.
Suzanne wondered to herself why she didn’t just dump this loser, but almost against her will she found herself walking down the stairs with him. When they got outside she noticed a long, white limousine waiting for them.
“The club sent it to pick me up,” Michael boasted. Big shot!
“It’s picking me up, too, Michael,” Suzanne muttered under her breath.
The limo driver turned out to be a kindly looking older man about sixty. He was short and chubby. He had merry green eyes and wavy, snow white hair. The man introduced himself as Jerry and said he was a member. He held the door very formally as they got into the car. As Suzanne got in he gave her a lusty swat on the left cheek of her buttocks. Even through the dress the swat made her bottom sting and tingle.
“Sorry, Miss. I got ahead of myself.” He sounded completely unrepentant then laughed at the surprise on her face, and winked. “Maybe later you can pay me back for my dreadful impertinence.”
She sank back into the plush velvet interior of the limo. Michael got in beside her. The upholstery was burgundy and the rest of the interior was rich wood paneling with gold trim. The limo was fully stocked. It had a small bar with champagne and tall, crystal fluted goblets. There was a television, a phone and a small drawer filled with condoms. In addition to the champagne, a shelf above the bar had a bottle labeled “Spanking After Care Lotion” on it. The sight of the lotion and the thought of its possible use made Suzanne’s mouth feel dry. During the ride to the club headquarters her butt tingled on the spot where the cheerful chauffeur had slapped it.
When they arrived at the club Suzanne had a brief glimpse of a large brick building, with white trim. There was a covered porch that ran the whole length of the front of the building. It was also painted a gleaming white. There were several wrought iron chairs and wooden swings on the porch, and a well-manicured lawn surrounding the long, curving driveway. The gardens in front of the porch were planted with colorful flowers, mainly roses, and there was a trim hedge around the property. The limo let Suzanne and Michael out before it pulled right into a large, enclosed garage.
Several club members came out of the clubhouse to greet the new couple. Suzanne noticed immediately that they were a very diverse group. She saw people of all ages, from early twenties to late sixties, and all sizes from thin to fat, mixed racially between White and Hispanic. Were there any members of the other races, Blacks or Asians, she wondered vaguely in a corner of her consciousness, or does a club like this practice racial discrimination?
Suzanne relaxed a little as she realized that the members all seemed to be very friendly and normal, even ordinary. Most of them acted very cheerful and welcoming. Secretly she was glad to see that none of the members present were wearing any weird black leather outfits, with shiny silver studs or carrying whips.
A stranger seeing the group would think they were gathered for an elegant ball since they were all dressed formally in lovely evening gowns and well-tailored tuxedos complete with white tie and in some cases, even tails. As the group moved into the clubhouse, several women were chatting so cheerfully with Suzanne that she almost forgot what was going to happen inside the brick building. Almost but not quite.
Chapter Two A Painful Initiation
Suzanne and Michael were ushered into a large room. It was lavishly furnished in an expensive manner and with great attention to the tiniest detail. The room seemed to be leftover from another period. It should have looked tacky but instead, it had grace and charm. The walls had dark mahogany wainscoting, with plush red and gold velvet flocked wallpaper. There was deep, plush, chocolate carpet on most of the floor, with a large expanse of gleaming hardwood. Three large crystal chandeliers and crystal and brass wall sconces lined the walls of the room. At one end of the long room there was a raised platform, and at the other was a gleaming mahogany bar with brass trim. The bar was complete with bartender, a slender young man with a mustache who was wearing a white shirt and red suspenders with red garters on his shirtsleeves.
Suzanne later learned that the door beside the platform led to a professional, modern kitchen capable of serving large formal banquets, and a laundry room complete with linen closet. There were about two dozen soft, padded and comfortable chairs with deep velvet cushions.
The chairs were a far step up from the ones Suzanne usually found at clubs or symposiums. These chairs were definitely not the usual tacky, metal folding chairs she was used to finding at lectures, club functions or even the stackable chairs favored by some of the better hotels in their banquet rooms.
Seeing her appraisal of the chairs, Jerry, the chauffeur, came over to stand beside her. “We like to have very comfortable chairs. All our surroundings are very nice, of course, but we need the comfortable chairs because our bottoms are usually a little, umm, tender before the evening’s over.” He grinned at her discomfiture as he walked away.
On the platform at the front of the room there was a microphone and three plush armchairs for the host, James, and for Michael and Suzanne. Off to one side there was what could only be described as a whipping bench. Suzanne shuttered as she looked at it, chills running down her spine. The bench was about four feet long and almost waist high. It was thickly padded with plush, red velvet and furnished with several velvet straps.
A tall, gleaming brass bucket next to the bench held several assorted canes. The canes did not look very harsh. They were just lengths of slender bamboo, of varying thickness, from very thin to as broad as her thumb. Some had a crooked handle and some were just straight. How Victorian, Suzanne thought with another shiver, remembering the books she’d read at James’ suggestion.
There were two more padded benches in the room; they were both lower and narrower than the bench on the dais. Those two benches were on the main floor, between the platform and the first row of the chairs facing it.
Off to one side of the dais there was a Victorian love seat. All three benches and the love seat were padded and upholstered in the same red velvet. Along one side of the room there was a hallway with several doors that, according to Michael, led to small, private bedrooms. A staircase led to still more bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs to a play dungeon and a storage area.
“Boy! I can hardly wait to drag you into one of those bedrooms and fuck you with your bottom red and on fire!” Michael was wildly enthusiastic. “I can just imagine your pain as I pound your burning ass into the mattress.”
At Jerry’s suggestion, Suzanne and Michael were seated in the special place of prominence on the raised platform, facing the group of about thirty club members. Just then James, the host for the evening, came in and introduced himself.
“Hello, I’m James. You must be Suzanne.” He held out his hand and when she reached out her hand, he didn’t shake hands with her but instead held her hand in a long warm grasp. “I’m sorry to be so late, it’s really inexcusable I know, but I got tied up at work.” He winked, “Unfortunately that wasn’t literally, it was only a metaphor.”
Suzanne was pleased that the man she had spoken to on the phone turned out to be as warm in person. He was also a very good looking man about thirty years old, with short, curly blond hair. He was tall, with a slender yet athletic build and the most amazingly soft, friendly blue eyes.
Giving Suzanne a cheerful smile, he revealed a dimple in his left cheek before stepping up to the microphone.
