Chapter 1: The Hellfire Club
November 17th, Central Gotham City
The Yellow Cab cruised up to the front entrance of Gotham City's newest and probably its most controversial nightspot, The Hellfire Club, just as the clock on the nearby church steeple, was chiming 10:00 pm. The grey liveried doorman, stepped forward, smartly, and opened the nearside rear door for its two passengers, who quickly alighted onto the brightly lit sidewalk, in the heart of the city's entertainment district.
The man gallantly helped the woman from the vehicle, before turning to the cab driver and casually thrusting a small wad of cash into his outstretched hand. "Thank you, my good man!" he said, smiling. "This should more than cover our fare, old boy."
The driver chuckled and nodded his agreement, before checking his rearview mirror and pulling out into the traffic flow.
"Welcome to The Hellfire Club, Sir, Madam," said the doorman, smiling politely. "Please follow me."
The tall blond-haired man, nodded and, taking the woman's hand in his, followed the doorman up the four wide marble steps that led into the building.
At first glance, they looked much like any other opulent couple, out for a night on the town. The man was shrouded in a long black silk cloak, which reached almost to his booted feet and also wore a top hat, perched jauntily on his head. In his right hand, he carried a long silver walking cane, although he displayed no signs of any invalidity. His slightly shorter female companion appeared younger and was warmly wrapped up in a gorgeous silver fox fur coat, that reached down to almost mid-calf. Her feet were encased in some startlingly high, black stiletto-heeled pumps with platform soles. The integral hood of her fur coat, was raised, partially obscured her features from view, but long wisps of red hair escaped its confines, to whip about in the cold mid November wind. An observant onlooker may also have noticed that both the man and the woman wore glittering masks, that covered much of the upper parts of their faces.
Once out of the bitter chill of the wind, the man took off his hat and gloves and smoothed his disheveled hair back into place with a hand, before walking through the opulent décor of the foyer, toward the front desk and cloakroom. The doorman departed, to return to his outside vigil.
"Phil, I-I don't think I can go through with this," the girl hissed, shaking her head and hanging back, reluctantly. She had slipped the hood back from her head, to reveal a gorgeous green-eyed beauty, with a tangled crown of glorious red hair. Her makeup was a little on the tarty side, with too much rouge on her cheeks and dark green eyeshadow. Bright crimson lipstick and lip gloss coated her full, eminently kissable lips.
"Nonsense!" her handsome escort growled, out of the side of his mouth. "It's only natural that you should feel a bit nervous, darling."
"A BIT nervous," she protested, "I'm almost wetting my knickers."
"What knickers?" he retorted, with a roguish grin, squeezing her small hand.
The girl couldn't help but smile. His humor was infectious and it did help to sooth her jangled nerves. "But..." she began.
"C'mon, Barbara, you'll be just fine!" he insisted.
A large bull of a man, wearing an evening suit that barely contained his bulging muscular physique, stepped forward and blocked their progress. "Could I see your invitations, Sir?" he asked, politely.
"What? Oh, yes, sorry old boy!" Phil fished two embossed cards out of a pocket in his cloak, and handed them over.
The man scanned them, momentarily. "These seem to be in order, Sir," he said, smiling, as he returned them. "I hope you both have a most enjoyable evening."
"Er, thank you. I'm sure we will."
Taking Barbara's elbow in a firm grip, Phil dragged her over toward the cloakroom desk, where a mousey blonde girl, in a skimpy blue uniform, was apparently acting as the cloakroom attendant.
"Good evening, Sir," the hatcheck girl greeted, smiling at him and thrusting her chest forward, so that he could get a better look at her cleavage, which Phil had to admit, was well worth a closer inspection. "Can I take your cloak and hat please?"
"Er, yes, thank you." He handed over his hat, gloves and silver walking cane, then swiftly stripped off his cloak, with a theatrical flourish, before he had the chance to change his mind.
The blonde's eyes widened in appreciation, as she took in his outfit and his broad shouldered, muscular physique. Apart from his mask, he was wearing a tight-fitting pair of black leather boxer shorts, with an impressive bulge at the front, a black leather waistcoat, open at the front, to reveal his tanned muscular chest and mid-thigh length, tight-fitting black leather boots. He also wore a four-inch, black studded leather belt, tightly cinched about his narrow waist and matching leather , lace-up cuffs about his wrists. His only item of jewelry, was a gold-colored medallion, dangling from a chain about his neck.
"Do you approve?" he asked, noting the direction of the girl's gaze.
"I do indeed, Sir," she gushed, reluctantly raising her eyes to his face, then blushing, as she realized that he was aware of what she'd just been staring at.
She took the proffered cloak from his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Sir. Now, if the lady would be so kind..."
"C'mon, honey, give the lady your coat," Phil urged his reluctant companion, with a boyish grin of anticipation. Until he'd first seen Barbara in her outfit for the evening, even he hadn't appreciated just how sexy his girlfriend could look.
After a momentary hesitation, the red haired beauty heaved a loud sigh and nodded. "If Phil can go through with this, then so can I," she told herself. She opened her luxurious silver fox fur coat and slipped it from her bare shoulders, before removing it completely and handing it to her companion, to pass over to the attendant.
The redhead proved to be almost naked beneath the warm outer garment, thus explaining her initial reluctance to remove it. She was wearing a tightly stretched skimpy black thong, that plunged down at the front, barely covered her nicely padded mons and rode high on her shapely hips; lacy black hold-up stockings, that reached almost to her crotch; matching fingerless gloves, that reached up to her shaved armpits; and black six-inch heels, with platform soles. Around her trim waist, was a tightly cinched, eight-inch wide, black leather waspie, that matched the chunky studded dog collar fastened about her long slim neck. Short, 3-inch lengths of shiny chain, complete with clips, were attached to the bottom edge of the waspie, one on either hip and one positioned at the small of her back.
About her wrists and upper arms, just above the elbows, were tight fitting black leather cuffs and armbands, similar to the ones that her boyfriend wore, only smaller, with short lengths of chain attached to the armbands. Her gorgeous, rounded, size 36c breasts, were completely exposed. Half-inch diameter gold rings hung from her pierced nipples, with three strands of cultured pearls attached to them, that swayed, erotically, with every movement of her upper torso.
Barbara had protested, vehemently, when Phil had insisted she get her nipples pierced, but not half as much as when he'd insisted on a similar piercing 'down below'.
"At least he didn't insist on my having studs in my eyebrows, nose, or tongue," she thought, with some relief. She could remove her body jewelry, once this investigation was over, and none of her small circle of friends would be any the wiser.
She blushed, slightly, as she saw the hatcheck girl staring at her. "Is this alright?" she asked, anxiously, running the damp palms of her hands down the outer curves of her waist and hips.
"Lady, with that face and figure, your every guy's wet dream!" declared the wide-eyed cloakroom attendant. Barbara's vital statistics were normally 36c-23-36, but the tightly cinched waspie had easily taken another couple of inches off her waistline, giving her a spectacular hourglass figure.
Phil wasn't about to disagree with the hatcheck girl's assessment. His cock was already straining, painfully, at the front of his boxer shorts. He just hoped the full-length zip in the front, could take the increased strain. "You'll do," he croaked. "Turn around, honey, so I can add the finishing touches."
As Barbara complied, he roughly pulled her arms behind her back, forcing her elbows to almost touch. This produced a small grunt of protest from the girl. He clipped the two leather armbands together, using one of the short chains provided, thus holding her elbows in place. This forced the girl to arch her back and thrust her already prominent boobs, out even further. Taking each wrist in turn, Phil clipped the D-rings on the cuffs to the short side chains of her waspie, further restricting her arm movements.
Barbara felt a thrill of fear, or was it anticipation? She now felt totally defenseless and at the mercy of anyone who might decide to take advantage of her situation.
"Is this all really necessary?" she hissed, ensuring that she wasn't overheard by the hatcheck girl.
"Oh, yes, my love. We want to create a big impression, don't we?" Phil replied, with a wide grin. As Barbara snorted her derision, he took a chain dog leash from a pocket in his vest, and clipped one end to the metal D-ring in the front of her tightly buckled collar. He smirked at the dark scowl that appeared on her lovely face, before giving the leash an experimental tug. "C'mon, let's go, slave!" he commanded, in a loud voice.
Barbara's shapely breasts jiggled, enticingly, as she stumbled after her 'Master' and the three strands of pearls swayed from side to side, clicking against one another. She rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Why, oh why, did I ever let Phil talk me into this?" she groaned, under her breath. Although several guys and gals had seen her nude before, this would be the first time she'd ever appeared near-enough naked, in public. "At least my mask should keep anyone from recognizing me," she consoled herself.
The mousey-blonde stared at Barbara's taut but shapely, swaying ass, naked except for a tiny black triangle of material emerging from between the tops of her buttocks and, in turn, attached to the pencil-thin side straps that rode high over her flared hips.
