Royal Flush

****** Please Read This First *******

I know, I know, I usually don't bother with the disclaimer bits either. Blah, blah, blah, over 18, blah, blah, blah, don't read if easily offended, blah, blah, blah. But, just this once, please bear with me and read this one.

Firstly, this is chapter six of ten and the story will only make sense if you read it from the start. If you haven't already done so then I sincerely urge you stop and go to chapter one. It will be better that way, honest.

Secondly, this is a work of fiction and all the characters are completely fictional. In particular, one of the main characters is Princess Charlotte who is, according to chapter one, "about tenth in line for the throne". Now, in real life, there can only be one person who holds that position but this story is not real life and it's definitely not about her.

Princess Charlotte is not a real person and any resemblance is purely coincidental. Before I get carted off to live out what is left of the rest of my life in the Tower Of London, I want to stress that this story is set in a parallel universe where Britain has a very different Royal family with a very different line of succession.

Thirdly, briefly but importantly, my heartfelt thanks to all those who have helped so much. Especial mention must go, as ever, to OneWhoAdores, 'V' and MartiniMan for help along the way.

Fourthly, once again, I fall neatly between the BDSM and Lesbian Love categories. This story centres on a BDSM club and much of the action has a BDSM theme. However, it's a bit short on the whips and chains to really be a BDSM story. On the other hand those looking for a lesbian themed story may well end up complaining, as a critic once did, that my stories always seem to feature a D/s relationship. This one is no exception; its a lesbian love story with BDSM overtones. If this is not what you're looking for stop reading now. That's kinder than voting one star because it wasn't what you were after.

Lastly, this is a story of deception and subterfuge. Most of the characters have at least two names, many three or even four. To help the reader keep track each chapter will start with a dramatis personae. The list for this chapter is:-

*Andrea, a journalist, masquerading as Emma Pearson from Paarl, club name Pheme

*Tamsin, another journalist, masquerading as Emma Pearson's sub, Susan Ward, club name Alethia

*Angus, Editor of the Daily Sleaze, a London based tabloid newspaper.

*Lady Mary, a lady, club name Voluptua.

*Popsy, her maid and chauffeur, club name Odyne.

*Euthenia, a Domme along with her sub Calliope.

*Chelone, a Domme along with her sub, Thalia.

*Epione, a Domme.

*Tyche, a Domme, nicknamed 'grumpy' by her sub, Mida.

*Otrera, a Domme.

*Various other 'goddesses' and their attendant handmaidens.

Enjoy

******

"This is much better," Angus commented as he read through Andrea and Tamsin's notes on their trip to Bedfordshire. "At last you've actually met Princess Charlotte. That's not bad for, what, only your third meeting. What's more it confirms that my source was right all along and this isn't a wild goose chase."

"You mean you weren't sure!" Andrea protested. "We went through all that on the off chance...."

"It was more than an 'off chance'. I wouldn't have poured all those expenses in on an 'off chance' but no, it wasn't a given. After all, if it was a given then I wouldn't have needed to send in a couple of greenhorns like you, would I?" Angus snapped back.

For a while Angus flicked back and forth through the report while Andrea and Tamsin waited in silence.

"So Princess Charlotte, she's a dominatrix, is she?" Angus continued when he finally put the report down. "All whips and chains and tight black leather, that sort of thing, is it?"

"It's not quite as simple as that but, yeah, that's the basics," Andrea replied.

"Well, stick to the basics; make it simple," Angus snapped back. "Our readers don't do complicated. 'Whip Wielding Princess Royal in Lesbian Sex Scandal', that's the headline we're looking for, not some lefty sociological analysis. She's a dominatrix and that's how we're writing it. As far as our readers go that means whips and chains and tight leather outfits and we'll confuse them if we write anything else. Which brings us to the big question, what sort of kinky stuff was she wearing? I do hope you got photos. I told you, right from the start, no photos, no story. Please tell me even a pair of greenhorns like you got photos."

"Yes, I got some photos. I've downloaded them onto my laptop," Andrea replied as she reached down for her laptop case which was on the floor beside her.

"Oh, my god, photos," Tamsin groaned. She had forgotten that Andrea had been equipped with a hidden camera. "I hope I don't appear in any of them."

"What's that groan all about? Of course I took photos. That's what we were there for. And, naturally, you happen to feature in quite a few of them. You were there, you were part of it and that's the way the cookie crumbles," Andrea said as she opened up her laptop and put it on Angus's desk. "Before I start let me state that I'm still a beginner with this hidden camera lark and these aren't quite as good as I was hoping for. I haven't quite got the hang of it yet so there are a lot of ruined shots but next time... well, lets see what I did get." She clicked on the touch pad and, after a few moments, a gallery of photos appeared. As she scrolled though the thumbnails they could see that the vast majority were blurred or obscured but there were more than enough that had come out quite well.

"What's that one," Angus asked, pointing at one of the better ones. "Show that full screen."

Andrea double clicked on the touchpad and, as clear as day, there, on the screen of her laptop, were the three puppy girls, up on their knees in the beg position while the urine streamed from between their thighs.

"You can't print that!" Tamsin all but screamed.

"No, we can't," Angus agreed after some consideration. "We're a family newspaper and, more to the point," he studied the photo carefully, "none of these women are the princess. It's pretty kinky stuff, though, maybe with a few suitably positioned black blobs there is something there we might use. Get one like that with the princess involved and we'll definitely see what we can do." Angus gave the photo a long hard look. "That one there, the one on the right, is that...?"

"Yes, OK, that's me," Tamsin said bitterly. "Maybe you can now appreciate just what I'm having to do for this story."

"Kinky, very kinky. I didn't know you were into that sort of thing," Angus said turning the laptop towards him for another look. "And this is what goes on at these meetings, is it? Synchronised pissing?"

"I am not into that sort of thing!" Tamsin all but screamed. "I only did it because I had to or we'd have blown our cover. As to whether it's the sort of thing that goes on, well, yes, pretty much so. Maybe now you'll appreciate just what I'm being put through. I suppose I ought to be grateful that, on this occasion, I didn't get my backside beaten."

Angus gave her a look as one might give a child throwing a tantrum before turning back to stare at the screen. Tamsin had never felt so open and vulnerable. Then, with an audible sigh, he closed the picture and continued searching through the thumbnails.

"But I don't see any pictures of Princess Charlotte," Angus protested after a while.

"Here, let me," Andrea turned the laptop back and, after flicking through a few pages, turned the screen back again.

Tamsin, fearing the worst, looked at the photo Andrea had picked out. It showed Princess Charlotte walking towards the camera and, beside her, on all fours, was Tamsin as her puppy girl.

"Hmm... that's not too bad," Angus commented. "But you can't really tell that it's her. What's more, she's not in the kinky gear and you can't even be sure that the girl on the end of the leash is naked. It's a shame about those damn masks. As it stands it's just a photo of an anonymous woman wearing normal clothes who happens to have a woman on the end of a leash who is wearing a dog mask. It could just be some sort of bizarre fancy dress party. We might be able to use this but not as the main hook for the story. We'll need far better than that before we go to print. We have to have at least one photo where," Angus ticked off the points on his fingers, "it's unmistakeably the princess, so no masks or any similar nonsense; she needs to be dressed in kinky gear, not a twinset and pearls, and I want other people involved. Do you think you can manage that?"

"It's not going to be easy," Andrea started.

"I'm not paying for easy, I'm paying for the story of the decade. So, what's next?"

"Well, once again, the ball is in their court. Euthenia, we're pretty sure we've pinned her down as Lady Barbara Abercrombie, she seemed pretty keen for us to meet again and was chatting about it all the way back to London, but, even so, we really can't afford to be pushy."

"Hmm... I suppose you have a point. However, I'm not paying you to sit around on those pretty little arses of yours so what are you going to do in the meanwhile."

"We've still got plenty of research to do. I'd like to be back at the flat in case Lady Mary or any of the others want to pop by so I thought that Tamsin and I could work from there."

"OK," Angus said reluctantly, "there are no other immediate bookings for the flat but don't push it. I want to see some results."

In fact they had to wait four whole days before they had any response. Angus was, by this time, beside himself with impatience and pushing them to get in touch with Lady Mary. Andrea, on the other hand, was just as adamant in insisting that Lady Mary had to make the next move. Fortunately, just as Angus's patience was reaching the end of its tether, the morning post brought an envelope flopping down onto the door mat. Tamsin got up from where they were working in the kitchen and went to the front door to pick it up.

"We're on," she remarked to Andrea once she had opened it up and read what was inside.

"Really? Let's have a butcher's."

Tamsin passed the card over.

"Pheme, and her handmaiden, Alethia, are cordially invited to attend the next meeting of the Sisterhood of Hellenic Goddesses," was printed in embossed gold on one side of the card. On the other, in Lady Mary's handwriting, was "Emma, darling, can you make the fifteenth? Give me a call and we'll sort things out."

Almost immediately Andrea was on the phone to Angus.

"I told you it was worth waiting," she crowed. "We've been invited to join their little club. Lady Mary wants us to go to a meeting on the fifteenth."

"The fifteenth? Day after tomorrow? That's another day with you two sitting around doing nothing," Angus moaned. "Well, at least you're making progress. Have you got in touch yet?"

"No, I thought I'd tell you first. We only got the card five minutes ago," Andrea replied.

"Well, call the bitch up and tell her you're accepting and then get back to me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Andrea replied, her voice full of irony.

"Don't push it, sunshine, don't push it," Angus replied and the line went dead.

As soon as she had put the phone down Andrea was busy dialling Lady Mary's number. "Ah, Lady Mary," she said once she had got through, "I just got your card. I must admit I'm slightly overwhelmed by how much you and your friends have made us welcome."

"Nonsense, my dear. The club has been getting slightly stale recently and you and that pretty little maid of yours are like a breath of fresh air. It's just lovely to have someone new joining us."

"Well, I'm honoured. I'm also really excited about this Sisterhood of Hellenic Goddesses. Please, tell me more."

"It's not that much more than you've already seen. It's a little club we put together when we were all back at school together, just a bit of fun, really. Of course, in those days, it was a lot more innocent, silly japes in the dorms and all that. Once we all started to go our separate ways we decided to carry on the club as a way of keeping in touch and, over time, the games have become a bit less innocent. Mostly we just meet up in small groups, well, you already know that, but every now and again we have a full meeting and that's a lot more formal."

"What makes it Hellenic?"

"That dates back to school as well. You know what it's like at that age; secret societies with silly names. When we first started we just happened to be studying the Greek myths so we decided to use the names of the Goddesses as club names. That, plus the masks, gives it that air of mystery. Silly really but it's become a bit of a tradition with us and we all seem to like it that way."

"I don't think it sounds silly. I think it sounds rather fun. We had the same sort of thing when I was at school. So, if it's Hellenic should I wear a... what was it that you had on the other day?"

"A peplos, yes, but, err...," Lady Mary sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "You don't need to bring one. You'll be presented with one after your initiation ceremony."

"Initiation ceremony? That sounds ominous. Tell me more."

"I'd like to but... I don't want to spoil the surprise. Again, the idea dates back to our school days, although, as I said, it was all a lot more innocent back then. Nowadays, well, it's grown into a tradition, it's a bit of fun and, seeing as we've all been through it then it's only fair that any new members should...."

"Suffer the same fate," Andrea finished off for Lady Mary.

"Something like that," Lady Mary confessed.

"So, what should I wear?" Andrea asked.

"It is a club night so you don't want to be too plain. Something with a bit of... zing. That leather outfit you wore last time would do fine."

"And what about my maid? What should she wear?"

"Much as I think she looks delightful in that French maid's outfit she wore last time and Euthenia has been raving about how pretty she was as a puppy, you have to bear in mind that on this occasion she'll be acting as the handmaiden to a Greek goddess so the simple answer is 'not very much'. Beyond that, well, use your imagination."

"I most certainly will."

"Oh, and one last point," Lady Mary continued, "it's really best if you spend the night. It's not as if I haven't got plenty of room and that way, if anyone has a drink or two, then there's no problems with having to get you back to London. Furthermore, if there's any... umm... musical beds then there's plenty of time to sort it all out over breakfast. How does that sound."

"Splendid!" Andrea replied. "You have got this well organised. I can tell you've done this before."

"Once or twice," Lady Mary replied with a laugh. "Now, as to your getting here, Shall I send Popsy to fetch you, just as I did last time? Would that suit? Mind you, you had best get used to calling her Odyne as that's her club name. If I send her to pick you up around seven, would that be OK?"

"That sounds perfect and it's so kind of you to offer. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this. I'll see you the day after tomorrow then," and, with that the conversation ended.

So it was that, two days later, Andrea and Tamsin were being driven down to Lady Mary's house by Popsy. Once again Tamsin was sat in the front but at least this time she was decently dressed. Indeed, Andrea had insisted that they both needed new outfits for this trip. As she pointed out to Angus, arriving at Lady Mary's house wearing the tweed would be far too gauche and, as an impoverished reporter, non of her own clothes would pass muster. She went on to say that they would actually need two outfits, one to arrive in and one to go home in although the latter could be somewhat less formal.

Once they had gained Angus's grudging assent they had headed for the West End and, in particular, Bond Street. Andrea had ended up with a pant suit in white linen and, having done so, she insisted that it was imperative that she completely accessorise. The saleswoman was practically drooling at the thought of the commission she was getting as Andrea added a belt, a hand bag, shoes and underwear to the growing pile of purchases. This was followed by slacks and a silk blouse in ivory, again with a complete set of accessories.

"Don't worry," Andrea laughed as Tamsin gasped at the price tags. "By the time Angus sees the expense claims we'll have landed the story of the year and he'll be so grateful he'll sign anything. Now, let's get you sorted out."

Sorting Tamsin out meant, in Andrea's eyes, choosing her a light, mid thigh, sundress with quite a bold floral pattern in pale blue. Again Tamsin found it hard to believe the prices they were charging; she hadn't realised it was possible to spend over five hundred pounds on a sun dress. What's more, when she had tried it on it had turned out to be shorter than she had thought and was barely decent. However Andrea enthused over it and it wasn't worth making a fuss about. To accompany this Andrea had insisted on buying her a pair of strappy sandals with three inch heels but, and Tamsin wasn't surprised at this, that was the full extent of the accessories she was allowed.

It was only as they made their way back to the flat that Tamsin realised just how much she had, once again, let Andrea take command. It shouldn't have been Andrea's decision as to which dress she would buy or which shoes would accompany it. These should be joint decisions. However, as ever, she couldn't be bothered to rock the boat by making a fuss.

And now, sat in the front of Lady Mary's car, wearing the sundress, the sandals, cuffs on her wrists and ankles and her chromed steel collar, she once again wondered what she was letting herself in for.

At last they arrived at Lady Mary's house. The car swept to a halt outside the front door and, before Popsy had had time to get out and open the passenger door Lady Mary appeared at the front door and swept down the steps at the front of the house. She was wearing her peplos, the cut of which owed more to fevered imagination than strict adherence to Greek antiquity.

"Emma, my dear," Lady Mary boomed out as Andrea stepped out of the car. "Do come on inside. We're all dying to meet you."

Lady Mary led Andrea into the house and Tamsin, on Popsy's instructions, took the luggage from the boot of the car and followed them in. As they crossed the hallway they heard the sounds of the party that was going on and a woman they had not met before went past carrying a tray of canapés. Tamsin did a double take as it came home to her that, in a short while, she too would be, like that woman, a slave dressed in nothing but high heeled shoes and a collar. The 'slave' went through a door from which came the hubbub of several people talking but Lady Mary led them straight past, up the main staircase and along a corridor.

"I've kept the Blue Room for you," Lady Mary commented. "I do hope you'll find it comfortable. Here, let me."

She opened on of the doors and gestured Andrea into one of the rooms. She then followed Andrea in with Tamsin trailing along behind. The room was vast, at least twenty feet square with a king sized four poster in pride of place. As Tamsin put the bags down and started to unpack, Lady Mary showed Andrea the chest of drawers already stocked with a selection of cuffs, chains, paddles and crops; indeed, there was everything there a Domme could possibly need.

"Now, I know you're going to need a few minutes to freshen up and get changed. Do you mind if I stay and chat while you do?"

"No, not in the slightest," Andrea replied although Tamsin could tell that this was not in the plan.

"For heaven's sake," Andrea turned to Tamsin, "haven't you finished putting that stuff away and why are you still wearing your dress in the house?"