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?"
She said nothing, which I found a little a little unusual. She leant her ass on the table with her arms folded. For some reason she was just staring at me, with her grey eyes under her brown fringe.
"I'll get a cab back to the station," she muttered.
The guy holding the microphone glanced at the detective, questioning her with a puzzled look on his face, although he didn't speak.
She pushed herself off the table, still with her arms folded, "Have you anything you want to say to me?" she almost snapped at him.
"No Ma'am."
He left closing the door.
"I get the impression I've made you angry, or I've said something to Welch that I shouldn't have?"
"You really don't know, do you?" she said in a biting tone
She uncrossed her arms and stepped forward. I tried not to look at her jutting breasts half hidden under her black jacket and white blouse. She noticed and shook her head slightly, and then stood there waiting for me to make eye contact.
"You know, two of my officers in that small van outside, kept looking at each through your little description. Then they started taking glances at me."
"I can't believe you found that embarrassing."
She took a half step forward and then stopped herself. She was going to say something, but what came out of her mouth, wasn't her first choice of words.
"Do you enjoy doing, this?" she said spreading her arms like she was offering the contents of the room.
"It has its moments...perhaps you should try it, it might relax you, and relieve the tension."
Her eyes narrowed, "You bastard. How could you talk about that woman you, fisted like that?"
"Detective, do you really think that happened? I was setting him up, making sure he got lured in. I'll admit I did have woman here who wanted that, and she got it, but as soon as she said the safe word I pulled out."
"I ought to lock you up along with Welch," she hissed.
"Look so a couple of officers got embarrassed, or you got embarrassed."
"Don't be bloody stupid. I worked on vice for 6 years, I've seen stuff that would make you puke."
"Well, perhaps embarrassed was the wrong word."
"Don't say another word, I'm warning you," she snarled.
I guess I had myself to blame, I just couldn't resist winding the early 40's slim 5'7" detective in the black knee length skirt suit, up.
"So they got a little turned on, or, did you?"
I watched a little shocked I must admit, as she took off her jacket and placed it on the door hook. She kicked off her shoes all the time watching my eyes. She then did something most peculiar, she yanked off her wedding ring, and then pushed it in her jacket pocket.
She picked up a whip and stood facing me again. I grinned and offered to take the whip. Quick as a flash, she grabbed my hand and spun me round, bending me over the table. She climbed on the table and held my left arm up my back with her knee. I felt a snap on my wrist.
"Other arm, now!" She panted and ground her knee into my back.
