Looking for Michela? Her name indeed appears here, but she really only enters the stage in part three. My original part two seemed a bit unwieldy so I split it into two more easily digestible halves, making a newly-introduced bottom entirely dependent on you to determine how long he languishes in the predicament he finds himself in at the end of this part.
*****
The weekly staff meeting was often a source of important information, an opportunity to be seen and heard by the executives at the web services company where Ginny worked in marketing and sales. But not today - vacation season decimates attendance, especially from those with the self-confidence to adjourn early if the meeting's work is actually finished. Several junior staff members droned on and on; Ginny wondered why she even kept working, but face it - she'd blow through Barbara's legacy in a hurry if she stopped. Stifling a yawn, Ginny let her imagination wander back to the viewing gallery. By happy coincidence her phone buzzed discreetly, offering welcome relief - a smile flashed across her face as she glanced surreptitiously to read the message from Liz.
"Free tonight?"
"Yes," Ginny typed back quickly.
"Meet me at 8:30 at THB."
Ginny put her phone away, delighted at the prospect of seeing Liz again, a little doubtful about the proposed meeting spot. She'd been there before with disappointing results.
THB was once the Harmonious Blacksmith, an intimate gay piano bar, where well-dressed gentlemen enjoyed cocktails and discreetly sized one another up, or simply enjoyed the music and the company of friends in an accepting atmosphere. The previously decrepit downtown area, always convenient, became trendy and the labels no longer carried much meaning. Greater tolerance was welcome but sadly, the entertainment format was no longer viable; the cozy formal piano bar was considerably expanded and converted into a glitzy preference-agnostic dance club. A number of well-heeled angels helped fund the renovations which included, unbeknown to Ginny or most THB patrons for that matter, the sumptuous basement area below. That space is occupied by the Forge. The main entrance is from the alley - this access is recommended for those sporting heavier scene gear or bringing toy-cases. But you can go in through THB.
Norm's workday was much like Ginny's, except Norm didn't get any invitations. Careful to maintain his muscular physique, he'd worked out at the gym that morning, then worked at his desk until seven-thirty. He decided he needed some relief - he'd stop in at the Forge and see what might happen. Grabbing a light snack on the way, he arrived at THB at eight.
The Forge didn't open that night until eight thirty, so Norm sat at the bar drinking a whiskey sour as the nightclub filled up around him. At eight twenty eight he headed over to the corner, circling around a black curtain to an almost invisible door with a small "Forge" sign artfully painted in handsome Gothic letters. He swiped his membership card, and the light flashed red. He glanced at his watch - 8:29. He waited until the minute rolled over and tried again. This time the lock clicked, and he pulled the door open.
***
Michael sat in his study, bathed in the glow of his multiple monitors. Earlier he'd wished Liz good hunting, then went up to his own private forge, as Jen jokingly calls it, to work on improvements to the calibration. The last few years saw the cost of computing power drop massively; Michael is astonished at what he now can accomplish using techniques once thought just a dream. He'd already greatly improved the calibration using heuristic methods since he experienced it himself, but machine learning is now all the rage, and Michael is right there - Jen teases him about the amount of time he spends in his study with his 'virtual dominatrix, Michela Machina' as Jen refers to his work. He's introduced the algorithm to vast amounts of data from session histories, hundreds of mainstream movies, thousands of pornographic clips, even a certain amount of snuff material, and numbing quantities of world news. It's becoming extraordinarily good at evaluating an individual's muscle contractions, convulsions, grunts and screams, to determine exactly what they are experiencing. It has also developed uncanny insight into what really works for effective behavior modification versus what is mere brutality.
***
Ginny and Liz arrived at THB almost simultaneously in their respective Ubers. A small line wound from the entrance, but the bouncer recognized Liz and waved them over. He always got a shiver out of the look Liz gave him as he carded her, and he eyed Ginny with lewd appreciation - she frowned, but said nothing; Liz imagined appropriate punishments. As they entered THB from the street Norm was standing in the small reception room just inside the passageway to the Forge. There was no live attendant there, but a TV intercom connected with the receptionist at the Forge's main entrance in the back alley.
The Forge has a medium-strict alcohol policy - it's been controversial, and the present compromise is that you can't enter unless you are under the legal driving limit - no alcohol is served inside. There are sensors discreetly positioned at both entrances, and you must not try to evade them. Norm supports this policy. He mostly bottoms but occasionally service-tops, and is aware of the risks, both to himself, and potentially to others. Of course, what people do after they leave the Forge is not in the club's control, but at least it sets a tone. And this time, Norm's whiskey sour put him over the limit.
"Sorry Norm," the receptionist told him over the intercom. "I can't let you in - you're just over."
Crap
, Norm thought.
"But you'll probably squeak by in half an hour or so - try again in a bit."
Norm retreated through the black door and circled the curtain. He was almost back to the bar to get a sparkling water when he caught sight of Liz and Ginny heading toward the one remaining cocktail table. Actually, Liz saw him first - her plan was starting to take shape.
Oh-oh
, Norm thought. He knew Liz a little - she was a trustee of the Forge. He knew about her job, and that she also occasionally topped for fun. He'd never played with her, but he knew friends who had, and they reported that she was seriously rough - they wondered whether they'd come out alive. But they also admitted they couldn't stop fantasizing about it afterward, and though they wouldn't necessarily seek a repetition, they didn't think they'd be able to decline one if invited. Liz beckoned, signaling Norm to join them at their table.
What the hell
, he thought.
She's with someone; I'm probably safe. I've got forty minutes or so to kill, and Liz is good company. Her companion is pretty attractive too. What have I got to lose?
He headed over to their table, where Liz motioned him to sit down between them.
"Over the limit?" Liz asked.
"Yes, but just. I'll try again in a bit." Norm answered.
The waiter came by. Liz and Norm each ordered sparkling water, Ginny a glass of white wine. Norm looked Ginny over.
Man, she's gorgeous,
he thought to himself. The usual small talk, mostly about Ginny's and Norm's work, started things off, and the drinks soon arrived.
"Seems like you had a rather dull day, Norm," Liz suggested. "From the sound of it, Ginny's wasn't a lot better - I thought I'd bring her here to cheer her up."
Ginny's in for a surprise cheer-up,
Norm smirked inwardly.
But no, she doesn't really look like that's her thing.
Now squeezed a little tighter between the two elegantly, edgily dressed women, Norm savored the funky workday's worth of feminine aroma wafting around him. Ginny's long dark hair, her deep-set brown eyes, sparklingly attractive in the table's electric candlelight but also hauntingly severe, her strong, well-sculpted figure, her contralto voice, her intelligence, all were making a powerful impression.
Ginny was starting to warm up to Norm too. She granted he was good-looking, slightly shorter than she was but solidly muscular, clearly no stranger to the gym. She wondered what else he frequented - somehow THB didn't seem quite like his kind of place - maybe it once could have been, she thought to herself, aware of its history. A glance from Liz suggested that she leave the remainder of her half-consumed glass of wine on the table. They continued to make small talk, a little work, a little current events, a little real estate - Ginny wondered a little impatiently when the real conversations would start. The clock passed nine.
"Hey Norm, I thought I'd introduce Ginny to the Forge. I think you're probably legal now - shall we walk over?"
Norm wondered if he should just excuse himself right then and go home; then again, he figured, once inside they'd surely go separate ways. But Liz continued, diving for the kill.
"I've booked a private room, and I thought I'd show Ginny the ropes, so to speak." Staring straight into his eyes, she closed her talons with ruthless efficiency.
"Care to join us?"
Norm's resistance was instantly shredded. The trio worked their way through the crowd to the corner and circled the curtain where Liz swiped her card. In they went.
"Back so soon," the receptionist teased Norm over the intercom. "Hi Liz, good to see you. One guest?"
"One guest", Liz replied, relieved to see the the light flash green on the alcohol monitor. She pulled the inner door open, revealing a small, handsomely decorated anteroom sporting an elegant antique elevator, a relic from the renovations, refurbished and re-purposed for descent into heaven or hell, depending. Liz reached into a hidden pocket and drew out a leather collar and leash. Ginny watched, amused, as Liz buckled the collar around Norm's neck.
"Can't have you stolen; we intend to consume our prey," she joked ominously. Norm winced, resigning himself to a challenging evening as the elevator gates opened. The three stepped in and descended.
The first floor rose smoothly past the the gate and Ginny got her first view into the Forge. It didn't look all that crowded, but in the large space looks were deceiving - there was plenty going on. A group of women were practicing suspensions; Ginny was fascinated by the elaborate ropework. In another corner a man in leather just finished securing his naked friend to a spanking horse; nearby a gorgeously tattooed women who reminded Ginny a little of Khalidah though she clearly wasn't, practiced her whip technique as her slave squirmed, tightly tied to a nearby pole. Music reminiscent of that in the viewing gallery thrummed in the background, rising in volume as the elevator settled into alignment with the Forge to stop with a slight jerk. Liz stepped out quickly when the gates opened, yanking Norm behind her. By the time Ginny caught up they were halfway across the floor.
"Hurry up, Ginny," Liz hissed. "I'll get you a membership discount and you can sightsee some other time. We've got work to do."
Liz had reason to hurry. She was aware of her reputation for severity, and the Forge had a general safe word, posted clearly, albeit discreetly, on every wall. It was silly enough not to occur by accident - if it was uttered, others would hear and the dungeon master would be over promptly. Gags were strongly discouraged unless both participants were regulars - even then, checking in with the DM to agree on a signal was required. But Norm would not have to go to that extreme - at this point Liz would release him if he simply asked in a serious tone. She wanted him in the private room before he changed his mind or lost his nerve. Ginny got the message and hurried after them to the inner corridor; Liz tapped her card on the door-pad, and in they went as Norm's anticipation, mingled with anxiety, rose by the second.
