It looked like a basement flat of an ordinary townhouse in a well to do area backing onto the park. Only the doormen standing by the entrance gave any indication that it was not a private residence. There were no signs. If you don’t know about the club then it most certainly isn’t for you. Membership is exceptionally exclusive, with a lengthy process of vetting, references and sponsorship. Members are allowed to bring one guest for whom they accept responsibility. Any misbehaviour results in the permanent expulsion of the guest, the member, and the member that sponsored that member’s membership, so people tend to behave.
Even so there was a need for doormen, and indeed the doormen were the main reason the club was so expensive. In fact doormen really does not do them justice, they were responsible for the safe and smooth running of the club. They were present in a ratio to customers that would make a daycare proud, in their matching light grey suits and discrete headsets. As well as being large and intimidating and proficient in some of the less sophisticated martial arts, each was thoroughly trained in risk aware consensual kink. Their job was to know the hard and soft limits of everyone they were observing, to watch for safe words and safe signals, and to always be on hand to activate quick release mechanisms or simply step in when someone was going to far.
They also did the basic things like checking membership, taking payment and enforcing the dress code. Most men wore tuxedos, most women cocktail dresses, although there was some fetishwear – strait jackets seemed to be in at the time. The dresscode was that you had to have made an effort, that you should try to be sexy and sophisticated, and that you had to be at least one of those things.
Once you were through the door you went down a flight of steps and down the notorious entry corridor, like the rest of the club’s interior it was darkly lit with LED spotlights illuminating points of interest in high contrast. Music played quietly, providing white noise and dampening the sounds emanating from elsewhere in the club (while the club’s soundproofing and sound dampening were second to none the nature of the establishment was that you were never that far away from a shriek or a moan)
The left side was known as the wall of bodies, and contained various people, usually women, in various kinds of restraint. The exact makeup of the installations would vary from night to night.
First up was a tall redheaded women, ballgagged and completely naked, lashed to a St Andrew’s cross. Wires attached to crocodile clips protruded from her crotch and either side of her nipples. Two dials were in front of her, one saying pleasure, one saying pain. Turning one will cause a gentle buzzing of variable intensity across her clitoris and nipples, turning the other will do the same with an electric shock. Give her a wink and a friendly tweak of the pain dial – she’s a pro. Any customer can take on any of the positions available at the club, but some of the more painful ones tend to be in low demand for much of the night, and so a rota of paid professionals are also present to demonstrate the equipment and add to the aesthetic.
Next to her was a perspex tube mostly filled with water. Floating inside it, naked and stretched taught between ropes that lashed her feet to the floor and her arms to the ceiling, was a busty blonde woman, her large breasts buoyant and beautiful in the clear water. A dial in front of her allowed one to increase or reduce the water level in the tube. A fun game is to “waterboard” her, by constantly moving the water level up and down from just above her nose to just below her chin and back again.
The next installation was more low tech, an old fashioned wood and iron pillory and an old fashioned wood and iron whipping post, to which two fierce eyed women in varying states of undress were manacled, eyeing the various whips and paddles hanging up next to them wearily.
Beyond them, another perspex tube, this one much thinner. The woman inside this one, herself quite thin, quite naked, and with a shaved head, was unbound, but the tightness of the tube did not give her much room to move, and made it difficult for her to get her arms down by her side, and so they were effectively pinned above her head. In front of her were two buttons labelled hot and cold: pressing one would unleash a drop of ice cold water from a random point on the ceiling above her, pressing the other would do the same with molten wax. She was pressing herself
Next to her a young punk suspended from the ceiling by many thin chains attached to numerous body piercings.
The final installation was for charity. A woman tied to a pillar and totally mummified in hundreds of tiny squares of duct tape, each with a number written upon it in black marker pen. In front of her was a jar and a raffle bowl. Put a pound in the jar, pick out a raffle ticket, find the corresponding square of duct tape and rip it off her.
The right hand side was the wall of heads. Heads protruded at varying heights from out of the blackness of the wall; mostly women, some men; mostly facing the ceiling, some the floor. From the noises they were making you could tell that some were being tortured and others pleasured the other side of the wall in the “torso room”. Others waited with trepidation to see if and what people might choose to do with their headless bodies.
A large man was aggressively facefucking the last head along, and some of the other heads nearby were attempting to twist around to cast a weary eye on him.
At the end of the corridor we enter the main room of the club. From the ceiling hangs a crystal chandelier and either side of it cages, one containing a beautiful young man the other a beautiful young woman. At midnight they will be auctioned off for charity: “free use” (within reason) for the rest of the night to the winner.
Below the chandelier is a gently rotating round table, to which various people, mostly topless, some completely naked, had secured themselves with restraints. The chandelier has real candles and wax would occasionally fall down upon them, drawing a loud shriek.
The rest of the room was taken up with comfortable sofas and, at the front, a stage where various demonstrations and events were performed – currently a demonstration of rope suspension.
Corridors then doglegged off on either side of the stage. The corridor to the left ran off to the rooms. There were all sorts of rooms: big rooms, small rooms, comfortable rooms, dungeons, rooms with racks, rooms with swings, rooms with gloryholes, rooms with one way mirrors. Rooms with every piece of equipment known to humanity and rooms that were nothing more than padded cells.
The corridor to the right ran past the bar, a perfectly normal bar except some of the barstools were pieces of human furniture, and beyond that to the garden. The garden jutted out into the park, and high ivory covered walls and the constant burbling of the various water features mostly kept the sound from escaping. The garden was well lit, rather better than the interior, and tended to be a more casual and relaxed place. Sexual activity was allowed here, it was allowed everywhere, but it was less common and most people here were clothed, as were most people not actually partaking in an activity in the main room and the bar.
That said, each of the wooden trestle tables that were scattered around the garden did have a naked person lashed to them – their head and arms locked inside a black box at one end of the table, their legs tied one to each table leg.
Some of these tables were purely decorative – look but don’t touch. Others were touch but don’t fuck, with various variations, and would usually attract people doing bodyshots, wanting to place their drinks and snacks upon a person, or just wanting to casually fondle as they drank. Other tables still were anything goes – at the far end of the garden an energetic group were running a train on a young man while next to him smokers gathered around a woman known as “the ashtray” because she liked them to stub their cigarettes out upon her.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o7pczd/the_club_bdsm