"It was during the 18th Century that a new form of British male began to populate high society. The 'Rake' was the term used to describe the usually aristocratic type of gentlemen who were in lustful pursuit of a harder sort of pleasure to be gained at the expense of the gentler sex. These 'creatures' who were normally peers of the realm, noblemen, and other gentrified lords, had little respect for the law or traditional morality."
The mousey-looking woman paused her monologue to clean her spectacles with a soft cloth before continuing.
"Clubs were founded, can you believe it? Actual clubs catered to these debauched members so that they could indulge their corrupt and depraved tastes. And none of these clubs was more notorious than the malevolent Hellfire Club. Such acts of blasphemy and sexual deviancy you could not imagine. The first was founded by the Duke of Wharton in 1720. An influential member of the Jacobite movement, this pervert enjoyed drinking, gambling, and sodomy. He would have his members dress as monks would you believe, and imbibe in Hellfire Punch until they were so drunk they engage in wild orgies with immoral females of the day."
Lady Petunia de Havilland, or rather plain old Deidre Birchwood, paused to take a swig of champagne. Lady Penelope Ward-Williamson sat back in her velvet armchair and reflected on what her friend was saying.
Her companion for the evening looked like the sixty-something she was. Her pale face was hidden for the most part by a pair of bookworm prescription glasses, and her admittedly tall five-eleven figure was shrouded in a durable long wool skirt, paired with a cotton blouse and woolen jacket. Her highlighted hair was cut short in a pixie bob with an exaggerated side parting.
Penny had seen the renowned party hostess and experienced Dominatrix in a completely different light when she had dressed in her fetish gear and strutted around on six-inch skyscraper heels with a whip in her hand.
"Do go on. I find this all very fascinating."
London today is blessed with many fine hotels and restaurants. Nominating the best of the lot, Penelope always came back to The Stage at The Londoner Hotel in Leicester Square. The Champagne Bar has all the nuances of a Parisian café, the bar itself decorated as it is by tan leather stools, and the intimate tables are set with gold-trimmed flutes and crystal glasses. Besides the bubbly, Her Ladyship had ordered the wonderful chicken with truffle mayonnaise and basil-infused bread.
"Is there perhaps a female type? a Rakehell! A She Rake? A harlot? With sexual excess across the board these days, the question must be asked. Female Rake, yes or no? I say, YES!"
Penny leaned forward in her chair, all ears and wide eyes.
"It's been an established fact that women are less likely to espouse rakishness as part of a broader public life. The closest we seem to get to an actual love 'em and leave 'em She Rake is the upper-class lesbian. Which is why I am investing in a new venture. London's very own All Ladies Hellfire Club."
Lady Petunia spread her hands and smiled smugly. In recent years she had styled herself after Madam Cyn, who had a likeminded attitude to the same salacious interests back in the eighties. They both specialised in spanking and other forms of bondage and BDSM. Offering their services to all who paid the right price. Under the somber attire, she had an enhanced 34-inch bust, a small waist, and legs that came up to her neck. She had started modeling with camera clubs back in the early 80s and quickly moved on to professional modeling for magazines. Being quite an exhibitionist she branched out into showing herself off in just about all of the fetish and S&M magazines of the time as well as several of the 'top shelf' mainstream adult magazines.
"Ladies only?"
The ravishing blonde gentlewoman was not normally attracted solely to the fairer sex, being for the most part a straight-up heterosexual. But she had to admit that even she could be turned on by she-devils dressed in black leather in thigh-high boots. And Petunia certainly had the figure for it, being a lean woman with big tits and all mounted on a nigh-on six-foot frame. Penny herself was a tall leggy blonde with a rack of large breasts and toned limbs.
"With the promise of a few well-hung blokes in tow who will do exactly what they are told. There to please and comply. So, you'll come to the opening night?"
Penny smiled as she felt her entire body tingle with anticipation.
"Just try and stop me!"
That night as Lady Penelope slept in her Regency four-poster bed, she had lurid dreams of 18th Century monks dressed in figure-hiding brown habits, chanting and marching through dilapidated corridors to a cold and dimly lit chamber where once upon a time, pagan rituals were carried out. As Penny writhed in bed, she envisioned erotic and sacrilegious artworks on the stone walls, and a ceiling painted with a pornographic fresco. Penny was there. Naked and led by a chain around her elegant neck by a nun all in black. The terrified blonde beauty was brought before a man seated on a throne and dressed in a scarlet robe and sporting horns. The nun threw Penny onto her hands and knees, and the dust filled her nostrils. Her head was roughly yanked up as the nun pointed a gnarly finger at the one on the throne.
"Behold! The Devil himself!"
Her Ladyship awoke with a start and a perspiring body.
"My goodness! That was different!"
x
A month later, Lady Penelope was seated in the back of her Rolls Royce car as it slid to a stop at the curb. It was a moonless night but the streets of Spitalfields in East London were bathed in the bright glare of the streetlights. Her chauffeur got out of the driver's side and opened the back door. It was just about midnight when Penny stepped onto the pavement and looked around at the site of the brand-new Hellfire Club. The area, once synonymous with the now relocated fruit and vegetable market, not to mention the locality of Jack the Ripper's infamous murders, was now one of the trendy shops and gourmet restaurants.
Even though it was late, people were still out in abundance, making their way back home after their parties or visits to the bars and nightclubs or seeking more fun.
Penny instructed Perkins to remain parked close by as she made her way to the entrance to the club. Two olden-type fire torches licked real flame above the sign over the open door and the immediate way in was roped off.
"My dear Penelope. So good of you to come."
She was greeted at the door by Lady Petunia who was flanked by two other females, smaller in stature but nonetheless dressed for the occasion. Their long dark hair fell straight over slender shoulders and their faces were heavily made up. Both wore full-length leather dresses with skyscraper heels. Penny thought them to be gorgeous and sexy, and most certainly ready for action.
Curiously, Petunia wore a nun's habit which effectively hid her chosen fetish gear for the night.
In contrast, Penny looked her usual elegant self in a fetching, off-the-shoulder, navy blue maxi gown in satin with lots of sequins. The racy low-cut front displayed her deep cleavage marvelously.
"Tonight is just a private party with a select number of personal guests. Just to get the ball rolling so to speak. Let's go inside. By the way, this is Mindy and Sindy."
As they entered the club, Penny was immediately taken by how dimly lit the place was. There appeared to be one large open area, subdivided by black walls and more torches. There were six closed doors, three on each side of the main room. The surprisingly high ceiling gave the impression of a vaster open space than there actually was.
"In here."
Mindy opened one of the doors and they all stepped into a bathroom facility.
"I want you to strip off and have a shower, my dear. I want you squeaky clean before the fun begins."
Without questioning the woman, Penny took off her evening down and hung it on the convenient clothes rack.
In her state of undress, the voluptuous MILF projected an aura of sexuality that always made every man and most women drool within minutes.
