INTRODUCTION

 

These papers are a collection of writings by members of The Club (we never got round to giving it a name - there seemed no need), to which I have added some of mine, to give them continuity and to explain what it was all about.

The Club was disbanded rather hastily after the Spanner Case. Our various lawyer members (who included at least one very eminent Silk) were unanimous that the judgement was absurd. However, until it was overturned (which they were sure would happen sooner it later) it would put us at some risk and we couldn't afford that. It was good while it lasted.

Actually it is likely that the Lloyds Names among our members were going to have to resign anyway, having lost their all in that extraordinary series of cock-ups. Without them and their money, it might not have been that easy to go on.

So, the premises went, the equipment was dismantled and distributed among the members (they were very generous to me in the process). The records and papers were left to me to destroy. By common consent I was allowed to save some which are published here, heavily edited to make quite sure that no one is compromised.

 

 

I love power: I love to exercise it.

I have a man in my power here: quite a good-looking chap, and - in his profession - eminent. He is used to having power himself, but not here. Here he is in my power.

His wrists, locked in steel manacles, are hoisted above his head, arms outspread and he is wearing absurdly high-heeled boots, padlocked at the ankles. Standing on these becomes very

painful after quite a short time, which he can relieve by taking his weight on his wrists, but of course then they hurt him pretty badly too. It's not a pleasant predicament.

This is a sort of power, having the man pinioned and at my mercy, but that isn't enough for me. My power has to be both subtler and stronger than that - I have to rule him by his own free will. That, in turn is governed by the passion I can rouse in him.

As I look down at his near-naked body, it's clear that his passion is working overtime just now, in spite of - or because of - his painful predicament. He is sporting an erection like a prize fighter's forearm, sticking out of the front of the punishment pants into which he has been laced.

He's been hanging here for a while, and he must know that however unpleasant life seems now, the pants mean that there is worse to come. What it is going to be, he doesn't yet know.

I sidle up close to him, and curl a booted leg round the back of his calf, running the spike of the heel gently down it. He sighs with pleasure.

"Bernard, my little slave, do you really want to please me today?" I coo.

"Yes, mistress!"

He does, he does! With all his heart!

"But I am afraid I am going to hurt you horribly. And just when we've had such a super time, and you've been such a good slave, it does seem wrong. But I really feel so terribly like it - you do understand, don't you?"

He has the good sense to say nothing to that.

"You see, I've just been given a lovely present. It's a most exquisite whip, and I'm dying to try it out. I'm afraid it is going to hurt dreadfully , because I want to test it properly."

I turn away from him, taking care to let the side of my body rub against him. The sleek black leather comes away slightly damp: he is sweating - and he has to be sweating with fear,

because it isn't that warm down here in the cellar.

My heels click-clack on the stone floor as I go to the corner behind him, and come back with the whip. It is the most beautifully made object, dark tan, thin, plaited leather thongs have made a sinuous, perfectly weighted instrument, not quite four feet long. At one end it has a little silver cap engraved with my initials, and a thin leather loop to go round my wrist.

At that end it is about the thickness of my thumb, and almost rigid, and it tapers to that of a thin pencil at the other. I twist it this and that way, and it seems venomously alive. It really quite frightens me.

"Here, look at it, isn't it just too beautiful?"

Needless to say, it frightens the slave, too, and with good reason. We only know one another fairly well - not well enough for me to have tested him to the limit, but he has seen me at

work on his fellow slaves, so he knows well enough just what I am capable of. I am determined to go on pushing him, to find out how much he is good for.

Bernard qualified as an engineer. He once told me that this is how engineering really works: you have a good design - for a bridge, say. So each time you build yet another bridge, you push your design a bit further, until something busts. Then you know you have gone too far, and you come back a bit for the ones after that. Well, that's what I'm doing to him.

"Look, these are my initials on the cap! G and M. This is my very own whip. And you are my very own personal slave -or at least you could be, if I find you good enough. I don't take on

second-raters, you know. But if you are up to my standards, I'll tell you what I'll do."

I come right up close against him again. I am very pleased to feel him trembling. I put my mouth against his ear and whisper huskily:

"I'll brand you, that's what I'll do. Brand you with G and M, like the whip. And then you'll be mine, too. My own, obedient, slave, for ever."

I put my tongue into his ear, and then give the lobe a little bite.

"Here, feel it. I've put a little neats-foot oil on it, to make it sexier. Neats-foot oil is good for leather, you know."

I run it over one of his shoulders, then the other. He is terrified, and silent.

"I want to give you just one cut with this, but a really hard one. Would you like that?"

"No, mistress."

Of course he wouldn't, not as such. He is a submissive, not a pain lover. He only suffers pain to show how submissive he is. The more pain I can make him take willingly, the better we

both like it. The whole point of the exercise, therefore, is to have him submit to the very thing he hates most.

"But it would please me, and you said you wanted to please me. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, mistress."

"So, won't you let me give you one stroke, just one?" I am leaning against his body again, gently, so as not to give him more pain as he hangs in his manacles, and gently stroke his balls. I daren't touch his prick - he'd come like a shot if I did! This miserable tortured creature is in his seventh heaven. "You do want to be a good slave, don't you. You would like to be truly mine, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, mistress", in tones of resignation.

"And you want me to try my lovely whip on you?"

I can barely hear his croak of "Yes mistress."

"Oh, come on you old miseryguts! do show some enthusiasm! I want you to tell me, quite clearly, that it would be a pleasure for you to let me beat you - just here," and I give his protruding bare buttocks a couple of gentle affectionate slaps.

"Please mistress, I beg you to beat me with your whip, if it gives you pleasure." Poor chap, he can barely choke the words out, but it'll do.