The Whistleblower Pt 04

I wake up mid morning the next day, later than usual given my tiredness from overnight ruminating, and woken only by Katie attempting to crash though the barricaded front door with a "What the fack?"

We ended up spending the day together, Katie and I, between sorting out locksmiths and cleaning the house up before going out to Waterloo.

She was handling the break-in remarkably well, though acknowledged she needed 'to do some partying to get it off my mind.' She was also pretty excited about getting me kitted out for the fetish club night, the consequence of which was beginning to dawn on me.

I'd already been in touch with Jess to give her the details from a flyer that Katie had given me: when we're to meet and the dress code; that being the kind of latex stuff that you'd expect to be required to wear, in addition to what I thought was some other pretty random attire listed. She was nonplussed about the rules and regulations, giving the impression that she was very au fait with it all, I guess as you'd expect her to be. She also mentioned that she couldn't wait to see what I was wearing and thought I'd like her outfit too.

Katie actually had a firm idea of what my final look would be, having had an 'epiphany' as we'd made our way through south London on the way to Waterloo. She'd spotted something in a thrift shop window on Walworth Road and had dragged me into the place, all excited. Ten minutes later we're leaving with a green tartan kilt on her recommendation that "It works perfectly with your auburn hair and whole sexy Celtic vibe!"

I'd questioned its use at a fetish night, but had been assured by Katie that authentic kilts were permissible. It left me with conflicting thoughts: sort of grateful that I wasn't in full latex, but worried that wearing a skirt was going to make me a target for some Irish-American loving dominatrix! Of course if that person happened to be Jess than that would be ok.

The actual fetish shop was in a busy market type street, Lower Marshes, in Waterloo. The shop frontage was black, as I'd expect, with a few mannequins appropriately (or inappropriately as per your viewpoint) dressed in fetish wear. We had to be buzzed in, presumably to discourage people who weren't serious kinksters, but on entering were assisted by a friendly and helpful sales assistant.

I'm persuaded by Katie to get a black latex vest, despite my protestations as to being freezing cold wearing a kilt and vest as outerwear in the London winter. She reliably informs me that I can wear my winter coat over the top until we get there and then once inside it'll be hot... very hot!

Come evening time we're at Katie's place, and I'm nervous as hell. I kinda want quiet so I can get in the zone and psych myself up, but Katie is jabbering away in her excitement: "I bet you can't wait will Jess comes eh Patty?" What do you think she's going to be wearing? Whatever it is it's going to be sexy as hell. Oh you're in for a treat!"

Whipped up into a frenzy of anxiety, I almost jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings to tune of Big Ben.

"It's Jess!" Katie animatedly announces in childish excitement.

She's up and racing for the door before I even get out of my chair, leaving me to greet Jess only as they walk into the living room.

"Jess has come to play with you," Katie teases, before I get my intended chance to attempt a suave and sophisticated greeting of kiss on the cheek. It easily puts me out of my stride and the kiss misses somewhat, hitting almost on her nose.

Jess at least giggles at Katie's introduction though, and mentions helpfully that she "Can't wait to play with me," with a voice that I consider all too seductive.

"Well then," says Katie. "Lets see it."

Jess makes eye contact with me - happy to hold it there - as she slowly and deliberately undoes the buttons on her long trench coat.

She then does a model-type spin, her coat tails flying up and revealing more than a glimpse of leg.

"Do I see a short latex skirt?" I ask, trying to get into the conversation, though more eager to know and excited in my own way. In fact, I start humming the song 'I like a woman in a short skirt and long jacket.' I suspect it's lost on Katie and Jess.

"Not quite," says Jess, looking at me like I'm a bit special. "It's a cincher, with suspenders."

I stand corrected, noting now its more of a basque style corset, the lower part mostly covering her crotch and butt, curving seamlessly into double suspenders both front and back. The brief view I got of the rear was especially intriguing, just catching a glimpse of the juicy bottom half of her ass cheeks straining against tight latex pantiesis enough to make me drool.

"I've got something for you here Katie," Jess says, holding out the large bag. "You can keep them. They're samples. No cost to me."

"Oh wow! Thanks Jess," says Katie, almost squeeling.

"And this is for everyone," says Jess, taking out a bottle of bubbly - "Especially Patrick who I suspect may need something to ease his nerves."

She's not kidding, and a few glasses between us help both their powers of persuasion and steadying my nerves into me getting into my own outfit, subsequently walking back into the living room to catcalls and wolf whistles.

There's none of that when Katie changes into her donated outfit. I'm not quite sure what she originally intended to wear, but it would have came a far second to what she's been given by Jess.

Rejoining Jess and I, Katie isn't so modelesque in her moves, but now dressed in a black latex swimsuit, very tight thigh high leather boots, and some kind of military style officer's cap, I struggle to get my jaw off the floor to compliment her, despite my best intent. From herein its going to be a struggle to just not to look at her!

Not much time to dwell on Katie though, as we're in the club soon enough, courtesy of a genuine Cockney cabbie in traffic suitably thinned out post the 9-5 rush.

Pretty eager for some more Dutch courage, I insist on ordering a round of drinks at the bar as soon as we're able.

"Oh my god, I can't pay!" I cry on receiving the drinks, hand over my mouth, mortified to find I've left my wallet in my coat in the cloakroom.

"Well I'll get this round," says Jess, removing a wad of notes from within her cleavage straining against the latex neckline, before handing it over to the bartender. "But, you're going to pay alright Patrick," she teases, "one way or the other."

"You go girl!" Cries Katie. "Make 'im pay!"

Katie's boisterousness attracts a vampy looking girl with her entourage lined up next to us to eagerly chime in too, with - "Make him show us what's under his kilt!" and "Spank his arse!"

"No, I've got an idea," says Jess, "Why don't we play spin the bottle to decide Patrick's punishment?"

"That's brilliant!" exclaims Katie, while the interlopers look on, fascinated, apparently ready to join in.

Borrowing a pen from the barkeep, and grabbing some beer mats off the bar, they take my arms either side of me, whisking me away like excited schoolgirls from the developing pack of hyenas baying for flesh.

Each writing down my punishment, Jess keeps her eyes on me, whereas Katie is like a kid, tongue out in concentration, head down, hiding her writing with her arm.

With nothing else to do but await my punishment I quaff the beer way too quickly.

"Steady on there mate!" says Katie. "You've already had bubbles remember?"

"Yes," agrees Jess. "Make sure you don't get too dehydrated when you're wearing latex. And besides, you realise that when you finish that bottle the spinning will begin?"

I contemplate my fate by the ever shrinking froth in the bottle of generic English beer as a condemned man in old times would with an old fashioned sand timer, but ultimately my thirst and need to be drunk speed things up.

Chugging the last of my special brave juice and putting the empty down on the table more heavily than I'd reckoned, Katie takes it as a cue, even more heavily banging the table with her fist, her mock medieval accent pronouncing with glee that - "The court is in session!"

Jess then places the beermats upside down intermittently around the table while Katie conducts the proceedings.

"Patrick McKenzie," she continues in contorted features as she enunciates olde worlde-style. "This very sexy and leery kangaroo court finds you guilty of not being adequately prepared to service your queen with the necessary ale. As such you are sentenced to ..."

At this point Jess takes the empty bottle with her long latex gloved hand and places it on its side. I'm not sure if I'm the one who's meant to be spinning it, but Jess does it anyway.

The stained beer mat is snatched and inspected by the girls, but they don't say what it is. Jess takes it and rolls it up, putting it in her cleavage where the money had been.

"Just to keep you in suspense," Jess enlightens to my raised eyebrows. "The night is young after all."

And the night still has way too much clarity I think, so I go back to the cloakroom for my wallet in order to inebriate myself and maybe cloud the night enough to ease my discomfort.

Returning to the where I'd left the girls, theres no sign of Katie, but I spot Jess conversing with a gay looking muscle man in latex. At least I think he's gay given what he's wearing, but then I myself am wearing a latex singlet and a kilt! A pang of jealously hits me as I think about her with someone else.

"You come here often?" interrupts a lady in a latex catsuit to my side after I make my way to the bar for another drink.

"First time," I say, not wanting to elaborate as I'm pretty eager to move on.

"Yeh, I didn't think I'd seen you here before. So presumably you're a bottom?" she says, eyeing my kilt.

"Yeh, I guess," - nodding. "I'm with the girl over there," - pointing at Jess.

"Oh," the one with the sexy guy?" says catsuit, rather annoyingly.

I somewhat rudely ignore the further questioning in favour of ordering a whisky chaser this time before extricating myself and walking over to Jess and the guy.

They're up close and personal in each other's ears due to the level of the noise, and I end up on the periphery for a bit before she acknowledges me. The acknowledgement comes in the form of glances directly at me, from both of them now that I mention it, interspaced with talking in each others ears.

I'm not sure if I look pissed at this point, catsuited woman having needled me somewhat.

They approach and Jess puts her hand on my shoulder to speak into my ear - "Greg here wants to audition for me. These places can be really be a meat market if you're a domme!"

"Oh," I say, non-committal, but not exactly overjoyed,.

"He's eye candy all right," she says, much to my chagrin. "I was thinking of giving him a chance ..."

Right now my eyes are burning holes in him. Maybe it's time I just got the hell out of here.

"But I'm not sure he's in with one against against you Patrick."

"Huh?," I try to say over the din, not totally sure I caught that last bit.

Jess leans into my ear again. "I reckon you'd be a better kisser than him ..."

She gives the words a moment to register before leaning in once more.

"But I'd like to be sure." A mischievous grin develops over her face.

She says something to the hunk, before turning and sticking her ass out a bit.

I'm torn apart to see the hunk get down on his knees and kiss Jess' left ass cheek.

"Reckon you can do any better Patrick?" shouts Jess my way, eyeing me off; daring me.

Well I'm not gonna be outdone by some studmuffin and so get down on my knees on the sticky, alcohol soaked nightclub floor.

I must admit, I relish the opportunity to view Jess' ass close-up, the juicy pink flesh, enclosed in the shiny, stretchy black latex of her skimpy panties. And all framed by the horizontal crescent shape of her cincher which leads on either side to straining latex suspenders.

Puckering up, I get in close and deliver a soft kiss. Not once, but twice. Once to feel the latex under my lips, and the second, to feel the contrasting skin and fleshy cheek, pushing it in slightly.

Turning round to face me before I get up again, she puts a hand through my hair, and still looking my way, though with her head in tilted motion referring to the stud, shouts "Sorry Greg, I think Patrick wins the prize to be my official slave tonight."

Greg the stud is gracious in defeat, smiling before he ambles off, though shouting the warning, "Congratulations my man, but be careful what you wish for."

"C'mon," Jess says, taking my hand, moving us away from the loud music down a corridor into a foyer area.

I'm intrigued to see that there's concessions here: stalls with equipment, including collars and leashes for sale, amongst other things.

We end up looking at different things, and I find myself at a stall with what I soon realise are strapon-dildos and the like.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I flush, thinking it was Jess busting me. Turning round though, it's latex catsuit girl, haranguing me again.

Before she gets a chance to launch into any conversation I'm suddenly collared, for real; Jess having purchased a leather studded item which she's hastily put round my neck. Attached to it is a leather leash, which she pulls, leading me off with a curt, "He's mine!" to catsuit.

Walking me to another area with a room with a window, its evident this is where the fun and games occur, as looking inside there's what looks like medieval stocks.

"Its time for your punishment now," she says. Handing over the rolled up beer mat to me, which she'd stashed in her cleavage, I squint to see the scribble in the dark.

'Patrick gets a spanking." There was a little smiley faced drawn on the mat next to the writing. I wonder if I'll be smiling after my spanking. It's all very well in theory, but in practice ...

My anxiety is ratcheting up a wee bit as my hands are guided by Jess into the appropriate areas and the hinges brought down to lock me into place. The suspense only adds to it as Jess takes her time to perform every intervention. She must be loving keeping me on tenterhooks.

I sense my kilt being tugged. Wriggling and writhing in my binds, I'm helpless to prevent Jess pulling my man-skirt all the way up till I eventually feel the weight of the heavy fabric resting on my back. Draughts, or air conditioning blows against my rear, reminding me of my nakedness and vulnerability.

Flinching and stiffening initially at her touch, her caresses soon have the effect of relaxing me enough to release my pelvic floor muscle from its iron grip. No sooner do I do so I feel a sting in combination with a, 'THWACK!' - her open palm and it's latex covering eliciting a perfectly audible noise on connecting with my ass.

I'm blind to it all, my head securely fastened in front, facing down. I can only try and predict if and when the next spank will come ... and it does.

'THWACK!'

'THWACK!'

'THWACK!'

A stinging sensation arises, and soon becomes overriding. Jess chooses to stop at this point though, resuming the caresses of my backside.

As I come to terms with the stinging, I feel increasingly shameful and embarrassed. It's not just the ignominy of the punishment, and right now on looking to my left I see leering faces through the window space - it's more the manner in which its occurring. The pain is being inflicted on a part of me not normally on show, and it's being done with Jess' hand, the personal touch allowing her a responsiveness to every smack that occurs; making it visceral for both of us.

I wonder if she senses my extreme mental unease, for the spanking ceases, Jess making her way to the front, to crouch down and blow my mind with a sensual kiss on the lips.

"Good boy," she then whispers in my ear.

I can almost cry. The punishment, while deeply unsettling, was admittedly invigorating, and her kiss the icing on the cake, overcoming me with a flood of emotion.

"Maybe one more for your adoring public," she says soothingly in my ear again.

I first think she means another kiss, but she retreats to my rear.

Ending with a real big smack, it's 'CRAACK!' noise echoes in the room, a combination of the force Jess uses and the gloved material.

"I'm going to release you now, so get ready" she advises.

I can't believe how shaky my legs are, and I have to be led, shellshocked, with my hand in both of hers out of the room and down the corridor to a spare comfy seat.

She returns with a water, which I sip quietly, contemplating.

I'm only nursed along so far though, for she jumps up on hearing some tune being played and transforms into an excited schoolgirl again.

"C'mon, dance with me!" - pulling me up and whisking me off to the dance floor.

I'm in awe, and have to confess I love this girl!