Wednesday came, and so did Mark Welch, to the club. He paced around looking at the objects hanging on the wall. He scoffed and muttered things under his breath. Finally he said he could do a deal, but he was a bit short of the necessary funds. I knew handing over the money would make me the buyer, and it wasn't a good idea, but I made him think I hadn't thought of that. Eventually I agreed to get him the cash. The one thing he wouldn't agree on was me accompanying him to Spain. I didn't want to let the money out of my sight.
"Well, while you're here, would you like a tour?"
He didn't seem too interested, but I coaxed him into going down stairs, and started showing him the rooms. At first he seemed to want to rush through them, but gradually he started asking about bits of the equipment. I watched him swish a few whips through the air.
"Has Sharon seen all of this?"
"Some of it, she brought her boyfriend here once. She seemed a little unnerved by it all. You know I asked her to try the table."
"What table?"
"It is in the next room."
We went into the room and I watched as Mark's fingers ran over the leather restraints. He seemed deep in thought, finally he said, "That table looks a bit uncomfortable."
"It is supposed to be, it's for punishment. Maybe I should have put Sharon on it, she still hasn't gone yet, and I think, she has been stealing money from me."
I watched Welch's hand run over the table, and I knew what he was thinking.
"Okay, I've got half an hour, tell me what you do to women down here."
I smiled to myself and refilled his glass from the bottle I was carrying.
"Well, most of it is just play acting with a little pain, but if I had a reason to dish it out to someone, well, I think I could make their misery last for a few hours. Maybe someone like..."
"...someone like, Sharon perhaps?" he said finishing my sentence.
We grinned, and then started laughing, together.
"Just suppose I did let you come with me to pick up the, stuff. Could you get her down here?"
I placed the bottle on the table, and picked up one of the leather cuffs with the length of chain attached to the table. I toyed with it, hoping to stir his imagination further.
"I think so, and who knows, maybe I could have her boyfriend hanging over there, watching."
Welch squinted into the dark corner. I flicked a switch and a spotlight illuminated a huge wooden cross along the wall, side on to the table. Welch grinned again, and stepped over to the cross. He reached up and yanked on the leather cuffs. He spun round quickly, with a delighted grin on his face.
"How would we keep them from going to the police?" he asked, holding out his empty glass.
He was involving himself in it now, after just a few short minutes, I had convinced him it was a real possibility. I poured more whisky into the glass.
I grinned like his question was a little ridiculous, "Surely that is obvious. Why would they be here in the first place? I could convince the police the masked Dom had got a little carried away with his whipping."
"What masked Dom?"
I grinned again, "Either me....or you," I said handing him a whip.
He swished it in the air a few times, and then brought it down hard on the table. The cracking sound echoed round the room.
"Maybe we could both administer her punishment," he said looking at me.
"Well, I suppose we shouldn't forget her boyfriend. I'm guessing he shouldn't be left out."
Welch walked round the room, looking at various paddles, ropes, and the swing hanging from the ceiling.
"You could lay her across the two planks, and swing her onto your cock right in front of him, isn't that what she wanted, an audience?"
"Sharon told you about that?" he asked sounding a little surprised.
"Why wouldn't she? I brought her here and that might have stirred her confession, seeing all these things, and the people in their various costumes. Part of the fun is the taunting, seeing the fear in your submissive, watching their eyes and hearing their pleading as I'm sure you can imagine, it is a big part of the whole thing."
"But our voices, they, well Sharon would recognise us."
"Not with a voice box, and as long as we kept details she would know out of it. You know it takes practice giving someone what they want, the pain I mean. You have to know when to stop. I could maybe convince her and her boyfriend down here, and her to just sample the table. Before they knew what was happening I'd have them both cuffed. I'd tell her I was going to leave her there for a couple of minutes."
Welch smiled as he tipped the booze down his throat, and swirled round what was left in the glass.
"So you leave her there, come out of the room, and a few moments later go back in?"
I nodded, "I'd change first," and from then on she wouldn't know who it was."
"When you said about knowing when to stop, with the pain, what if you or we can't stop?"
I grinned back at him and said, "Well, that will be up to you, and let's face it, we aren't playing with them like the people who usually come down here. This isn't an act, it is real, but we have to gradually build to that, it is an art. When they both realise we aren't playing games, the fear on their faces will get you harder than you have ever been before."
He backed away a little, and turned to stare at the cross. He was embarrassed by the way his face was giving up secrets to me, about how turned on he was. He came back to the table, and slowly ran his finger tips down the length of it.
"Have you ever seen a woman fisted, and I don't mean punched, I mean having a hand inserted in her cunt? There was a woman who wanted that done to her. I had here strapped to this very table, man did she squeal like a pig. Eventually when my wrist disappeared she started begging and squealing for me to stop," I took a sip of my drink, letting him take in the picture.
"And did you, stop?"
I pointed up to the camera, "That had been switched off," I said and started grinning.
"So you didn't stop?"
"Well, the dumb bitch couldn't remember the safe word."
He started laughing, and then stopped himself, "Sharon would remember the safe word."
"You're missing the point, she won't get one."
He started laughing again, and clapped his hands together.
"Okay, I'll get the tickets. You, me, and that doorman of yours are going to Spain."
He handed me the empty glass, slapped my back, grinned, and then left the room.
10 minutes later Amanda Barkley entered the room. I took of my jacket and shirt, and one of her operatives started peeling the tape from my body, which held the small microphone and wire in place.
"Well, I guess we have got what we wanted, me escorting Welch to Spain?"
