There was no concern about inappropriate exposure when they arrived at club Midnight. It was a gated property, with high walls, tall trees and extensive grounds. She led him through the double doors of aged oak. Once inside she tugged his leash sharply.
'On your knees. You are to be on your knees at all times here unless I tell you otherwise.'
'Sorry Mistress.'
He scrambled to obey.
'And you are not to speak unless spoken to. If you have an urgent matter, I will make an exception -- such as bathroom usage for example or safewording.'
She gave their details to the receptionist and attached the colour coded wristbands they were given to both their wrists. She squatted down on the rich silver carpet and addressed Finlay.
'Our bands are blue -- that means no one can touch us. Other things are allowed. And of course I can touch you. If at any time you feel uncomfortable your safeword is red. Cliche I know, but it works. How do you feel about that Sub? You may speak.'
A surge of happiness swept through him, that she had chosen him.
'I am content Miss. And grateful that you've thought of such things.'
She nodded curtly.
'Then let's go.'
A lift took them down to a huge basement that had been turned into a luxurious club with indigo walls and gold plated sconces. The music pulsed through his body. The violet lights offset the shocks of nervousness flashing through his veins. Sheba spoke to many of the revellers that they passed. It appeared she was popular. She looked beautiful. Powerful. Her hair was softly waved, her make-up bold but not brash. She wore leather fingerless gloves, a scattering of minute emerald studs in each ear and of course her wristband that marked her as untouchable. Yet as they moved through the crowd, someone dared to.
'Well if it isn't Bathsheba Everdene herself!' laughed a tall woman, grabbing Sheba by the arm. 'And is this a new Sub that I see with you here?'
She reached out her hand to touch Fin, to examine him but Sheba stood in the way.
'You do not touch me. And you sure as hell don't touch my Sub. You can see our colour codes. You know the rules Sue-Lee.'
'That's Mistress Sue-Lee to you,' the woman smirked and walked away.
'You will get my respect when you earn it. Not before,' Sheba snarled at her back.
She ordered them drinks and they sat before the main stage, Fin at her feet lapping from a dish and Sheba draped full length upon a quilted aubergine velveteen couch. She seemed uneasy, Fin thought. This disturbed him. She sensed it and petted his head with a gloved hand.
Shortly after the lights dimmed and a woman stepped center stage in a black cloak. It was Mistress Sue-Lee.
Finlay did not dare look at Sheba but if he had, he would have seen her impassively staring ahead sipping her iced tea.
The pole dancing performance that followed was spectacular. He'd never seen anything like it. So artistic. So sexual. Sue-Lee had insane flexibility. Her pain threshold must be high, he mused, as he watched her slam to the ground doing the splits. From the corner of his eye, he caught Sheba watching him closely. He bent down and lapped at his apple juice, feeling wary and unsure.
When the performance ended the poles were removed swiftly from the stage and a large cushioned bench of unusual construction was brought out. It was basically x shaped and had cuffs attached to all its extremities. A man appeared with a microphone dressed in nothing more than a tiny mini skirt, bralet and towering heels. His junk just swayed about freely like a flag in the wind.