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“Yes, please,” Saoirse said, smiling up into his eyes, grateful for anything that didn’t involve another turn around the dance floor with a terrible twin.
Sutter pressed a kiss to her forehead. He turned his head to look at his sisters, who shot their identical, evil smiles at him. “See you later, Trouble One and Trouble Two. Stay put and keep an eye on the oldies.”
Lark popped her hip under her designer cocktail dress and planted her hand on it.More brat than dominatrix, Saoirse thought.She needs to work on that.
“We’re of age in England.”
“Drinkingage,” Sutter said sternly. “Sex clubs are twenty-one plus. You stay up here.”
Lark looked like she wanted to argue, but Sutter steered Saoirse to the end of the bar, where a small group was gathering around Suzanna.
Chapter 9
Sutter’s aunt still looked uncomfortable, but she was more animated as she spoke to the group, explaining their security measures, which would involve a blacklight temporary tattoo that had to be renewed monthly along with an electronic fob.
She led them through an unmarked door, past a security booth and rolling grates that would secure the club out of hours, and down a wide set of stairs. Saoirse felt the non-slip flooring grip at her peep-toe heels and nodded to herself with approval, having had her own concerns about slippery floors.
At the bottom of the stairs was a large lounge, similar to the bar upstairs in décor and lighting. There were more mirrors here, if possible, and Saoirse was grateful she loved the dress Sutter had picked, because she saw it from every possible angle just walking through the lounge. There were cozy seating clusters dotting the floor and a horseshoe-shaped bar jutting into the middle of the room. The bar’s lighting was the same, but lacked any dry ice, for which Saoirse’s nose was grateful. A neon sign above the bar top stated clearly, “1 drink max for players”.
Suzanna stopped beside the bar and pointed to the sign. “We have a strict policy about alcohol and kink. After one drink, players have to wear a white wristband so everyone knows they’ve consumed alcohol. It also helps our bartenders keep track, although they log in each member and guest ID as drinks are ordered. The computer won’t accept payment for a second drink on the same ID, so it comes directly out of the bartenders’ pockets if they help members cheat.”
Several V.I.P.s nodded their approval.
Suzanna led the group around the end of the bar where there was a small station that looked like a hostess podium. “This is our dungeon monitor station,” she explained. “For legal reasons, we can’t record activities in the play areas, but the dungeon monitor has unrecorded, live feed from the eight playrooms. Members and guests sign in with the dungeon monitor before going to their allocated playroom.” She picked up a small machine that looked like a credit card reader. “The dungeon monitor sends a security code to the member’s fob which unlocks the playroom door, although all of them are open tonight so you can take a look.”
“What happens if it’s a group of guests playing, no members?” a V.I.P. asked.
“That’s discouraged since we want to maintain the club’s exclusivity. Generally, guests must be with a member for entry into the dungeon. But in the rare case, we have guest fobs for temporary access. All security codes change after twenty-four hours so yesterday’s coded fob won’t get you into a playroom today.”
Saoirse found herself nodding along with the V.I.P.s. Suzanna clearly knew the security arrangements a club like Winter’s Sin required.
“There are two dungeon monitors on at all times. One on station and one who is roaming. They have constant communication with the security upstairs as well. We won’t have anything like what happened at Ray’s Torment Room happening here.”
Saoirse wondered what had happened at Ray’s Torment Room since she didn’t know anyone in the British scene and hadn’t heard of any incidents. But she gathered it must have been bad from the frowns and serious faces around her.
“Now let me show you our playrooms,” Suzanna said more brightly. She led them through another set of plain doors into a corridor with nine doors opening off it, four on each side and one on the end of the hallway that was clearly marked, “Emergency Exit. Alarm will sound”.
Suzanna waved toward the exit. “That leads out into the parking lot. There’s another security station at the top of the stairs and the doors only open one way, so we won’t have anyone sneaking in the back door.” She winked and opened the first door on the right. “This is our classic dungeon. Please feel free to look around.”
The V.I.P.s shuffled in but Sutter kept Saoirse back until the last one had entered. “Last in, first out,” he whispered to her.
Saoirse nodded as she waited beside him.
Once inside, she looked around with a growing sense of unease. It was a “classic” dungeon in not just an old-school kink sense but in the medieval sense, with gray stone walls, flickering wall sconces providing dim and shifting light, and the faint scent of earth and decay. Chains and manacles draped the walls. Around the room, separated into stations, were a large St. Andrew’s Cross, a throne-like bondage chair, a steel bondage frame with an inversion seat, and a padded spanking bench. Threatening iron maidens stood in each corner. Saoirse shuddered, hoping those were fake.
One of the V.I.P.s clapped. “Excellent ambience.”
Saoirse glanced at Sutter, who was fighting a grin. “Not really our scene is it, darlin’?” he whispered to her.
She shook her head.
“Although that spanking bench is giving me ideas.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and Saoirse bit her lips to keep from laughing and spoiling Suzanna’s explanation of the room’s many features.
The rest of the playrooms passed in a blur for Saoirse. There was a western-themed room, which made Saoirse suppress an eyeroll now that she’d seen the real thing at the Ranch. She didn’t roll her eyes at the display of whips and the small herd of wooden ponies, though. Those things were scary and she didn’t want Sutter getting any ideas. Another room was set up like a fantasy harem with miles of sheer drapes, embroidered cushions, and the faint smell of sandalwood incense. Saoirse perked up at the medical playroom. Naughty nurse and dirty doctor was one of her favorite games. Even her Little side got excited about all the equipment and role-playing.
But her Little nearly burst out of her chest at the sight of the school room. It was nearly as old school as the classic dungeon, with three rows of small chairs, each with their own wooden desk, lined up in front of an imposing teacher’s desk. A blackboard dominated the wall behind the teacher’s desk, with a neat row of white chalk in the tray.
It was begging to be filled with lines.
