the room again. “I think I could make this place even better.”
“What are you two talking about over there?” asked Craig.
“Oh, nothing much,” Annik tapped Jessica’s leg. “Just ideas about investments and stuff.”
“Got any hot stock tips?” asked Tom.
“Nope. That’s over my head. More like wondering what the real estate market is going to be doing, maybe.” Jessica nodded at Annik.
“Oh. Well…” Tom was cut off by the third act in the evening’s program beginning, and the four of them turned to watch.
The final act of the evening was announced while the servers delivered dessert and coffee. This was the main event, the real warm-up to the playing afterwards. The curtain opened to the heavy beat of Enigma , revealing a dungeon scene. A blonde, young man stood, arms raised high, handcuffed to manacles mounted in a wall. An Asian woman was strapped to a medical table, naked and secured by her hands and feet. The table was like the one in her doctor’s office, stirrups and all.
In the centre of the stage, on the St. Andrews cross a woman, wearing a blindfold and G string faced the audience. Annik strained forward for a closer look. With the blond hair trailing over her shoulders, could it be Cammie on the cross?
If Jessica was the most vivacious Patron at Pandora’s, Cammie was the most charismatic of the Staff after the Major. Annik had watched her progress from being one of the table servers (how she had blushed the first time she wore that toga.) to become a prized submissive for Patrons.
A spotlight appeared at the left of the stage illuminating a statuesque woman. Wearing a bird like mask, she strode to the stage in her stiletto boots, her robe sweeping the floor behind her.
The spotlight moved offstage again. A man wearing an Executioners headgear, bare chest above dark leather pants, walked into the light and onto the stage. The spotlight revealed the last player. He was a muscular black man in a gladiator costume. The Executioner held a whip in one hand. With his other hand he gently caressed the face of the man strung up in manacles. The Gladiator approached the woman on the medical table and stood beside it. Annik watched the Bird woman flex a fiberglass cane near Cammie on the St. James cross. Ow! Poor Cammie.
The manacled man was the first to be beaten. The Executioner used a cat ‘o nine tail whip on his back and thighs. Each time the whip cracked across his flesh, he flinched. The Dom with the whip demonstrated great speed and accuracy. He was a professional with years of practice under his belt—almost as good as Mistress Diana.
On the medical bench the woman writhed. The Gladiator was using a soft, doeskin leather flogger. From the snap of the whip, it sounded almost lethal. But of all the flogging instruments, this one was the least painful. Annik saw the Gladiator trail the ends of the whip across her breasts, along her thighs and between her legs. Yeah. She was writhing, but not from pain.
The crack of the cane caught her attention as she was about to take a bite of dessert. She saw the red welt appear on Cammie’s thigh. It was ironic that such a light weight rod was the most deadly weapon. The audience was hushed, watching the BDSM scene on stage. The only sounds in the dimly dining theater were the cracks on assaulted flesh from the stage.
Annik squeezed her thighs together. The next part of the evening would be her scene with Tom in the ballroom—a duet in the BDSM dance of pain, pleasure and willpower with her Master.
Chapter 6
When the program of entertainment was over, the Major took to the stage to announce that the play stations were available in the next room. As often happened, the entertainment served to prime the pump. Many guests immediately got up and headed over.
“You guys ready?” asked Craig.
“No… we’re going to stay here for a few moments and probably use one of the stations on the stage,” replied Tom.
“Yeah, well
“What are you two talking about over there?” asked Craig.
“Oh, nothing much,” Annik tapped Jessica’s leg. “Just ideas about investments and stuff.”
“Got any hot stock tips?” asked Tom.
“Nope. That’s over my head. More like wondering what the real estate market is going to be doing, maybe.” Jessica nodded at Annik.
“Oh. Well…” Tom was cut off by the third act in the evening’s program beginning, and the four of them turned to watch.
The final act of the evening was announced while the servers delivered dessert and coffee. This was the main event, the real warm-up to the playing afterwards. The curtain opened to the heavy beat of Enigma , revealing a dungeon scene. A blonde, young man stood, arms raised high, handcuffed to manacles mounted in a wall. An Asian woman was strapped to a medical table, naked and secured by her hands and feet. The table was like the one in her doctor’s office, stirrups and all.
In the centre of the stage, on the St. Andrews cross a woman, wearing a blindfold and G string faced the audience. Annik strained forward for a closer look. With the blond hair trailing over her shoulders, could it be Cammie on the cross?
If Jessica was the most vivacious Patron at Pandora’s, Cammie was the most charismatic of the Staff after the Major. Annik had watched her progress from being one of the table servers (how she had blushed the first time she wore that toga.) to become a prized submissive for Patrons.
A spotlight appeared at the left of the stage illuminating a statuesque woman. Wearing a bird like mask, she strode to the stage in her stiletto boots, her robe sweeping the floor behind her.
The spotlight moved offstage again. A man wearing an Executioners headgear, bare chest above dark leather pants, walked into the light and onto the stage. The spotlight revealed the last player. He was a muscular black man in a gladiator costume. The Executioner held a whip in one hand. With his other hand he gently caressed the face of the man strung up in manacles. The Gladiator approached the woman on the medical table and stood beside it. Annik watched the Bird woman flex a fiberglass cane near Cammie on the St. James cross. Ow! Poor Cammie.
The manacled man was the first to be beaten. The Executioner used a cat ‘o nine tail whip on his back and thighs. Each time the whip cracked across his flesh, he flinched. The Dom with the whip demonstrated great speed and accuracy. He was a professional with years of practice under his belt—almost as good as Mistress Diana.
On the medical bench the woman writhed. The Gladiator was using a soft, doeskin leather flogger. From the snap of the whip, it sounded almost lethal. But of all the flogging instruments, this one was the least painful. Annik saw the Gladiator trail the ends of the whip across her breasts, along her thighs and between her legs. Yeah. She was writhing, but not from pain.
The crack of the cane caught her attention as she was about to take a bite of dessert. She saw the red welt appear on Cammie’s thigh. It was ironic that such a light weight rod was the most deadly weapon. The audience was hushed, watching the BDSM scene on stage. The only sounds in the dimly dining theater were the cracks on assaulted flesh from the stage.
Annik squeezed her thighs together. The next part of the evening would be her scene with Tom in the ballroom—a duet in the BDSM dance of pain, pleasure and willpower with her Master.
Chapter 6
When the program of entertainment was over, the Major took to the stage to announce that the play stations were available in the next room. As often happened, the entertainment served to prime the pump. Many guests immediately got up and headed over.
“You guys ready?” asked Craig.
“No… we’re going to stay here for a few moments and probably use one of the stations on the stage,” replied Tom.
“Yeah, well
Similar Books
