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CHAPTER SEVEN - Guided Tour

Locked arm in arm, Anthea led me across the room and through the door over on the other side of the bar. Beyond the door lay a small corridor leading directly away from me. Surprisingly there were no statues. Instead the entire length was thickly carpeted, tastefully decorated and hung with a number of small Edwardian period, sepia photographs, predominately of nudes in chains.
Immediately to my right lay two sets of stairs, the nearest going up, the farthest going down. Further along the corridor, on the opposite side to the stairs and centrally placed, was a door marked 'Ladies Changing Room', and way down at the far end lay another door marked 'Emergency Exit'.
I tried not to smile and give too much away, but at least I had learnt another thing or two. Firstly the emergency exit was obviously how the two girls earlier, plus Hendry and his little party later, had managed to enter the building undetected, and secondly, the stairs leading to the floor above told me how Hendry's office was accessible without going via the main hallway.
Anthea moved on, still clinging to my arm and taking me in tow. At the top of the stairs leading to the basement she stopped and pointed a little further down the corridor to the door marked 'Ladies Changing Room'.
"That's the girls' room. It's private and members aren't allowed in there under any circumstances. It's forbidden and those are the club rules," she informed me.
I had no reason to dispute the fact. Before leaving the premises the day before, Fernando had offered me a small booklet containing all the club rules. In order not to get myself thrown out I'd read the booklet several times over as part of my homework, and therefore was well aware of the consequences. Violation of rule twelve concerning female privacy was an 'up before the committee job', with a threatened lifetime ban for persistent offenders.
I simple shrugged my shoulders, nodded my head and replied to her: "It's the same at my old club in Birmingham. I guess you ladies have to have somewhere to be left in peace."
Whether I spoke the truth or not I did not know, but my answer seemed to satisfy her, for without further ado she moved on, taking me this time by the hand and leading me down the stairs. There were ornate brass wall lights all the way down the long descent with even more plush carpets underfoot.
There was a bend to the stairs. On the wall facing the descent from the first flight hung a solitary picture. It was in full colour, much larger than those in the corridor, and hung in such a prominent position that I found it impossible not to take my eyes off it as I turned from one flight to another.
This picture was modern, and most definitely a photograph and not a painting. It was blown up to a large scale and showed the upper body, head and limbs of a naked young woman. Her arms were stretched upwards and outwards, and chained at the wrists. She looked terrified, with her eyes focused upon the tip of a red hot iron poised only inches away from her left breast. I tried not to show interest and continued to descend the stairs without commenting to Anthea. But that brand, and the part of the anatomy it was directed at, brought to mind a scar I'd seen on seen on the junkie girl, Rachel Joyce, just a couple of days earlier.
I was in deep thought when Anthea called a halt the moment we reached the bottom. As a result I bumped into her before taking a half step back. I looked around. Here was another thickly carpeted corridor, as long as the one above, but noticeably wider and with a much higher ceiling. The ornate brass wall lights continued down both sides of the passageway. I must admit this scene was the exact opposite to what I had imagined. Having descended into the bowels of the earth I guess I was expecting to find myself standing in yet another little cramped cellar.
I counted at least a dozen more pictures hanging on the walls. All were of the small sepia variety displayed upstairs. To the left were two ordinary looking doors, positioned at either end of the corridor, and to the right stood just one, much bigger, arched doorway positioned halfway along. I could see that the door to the left nearest to me was marked 'Men's Changing Room', but from the position where I stood I could not read the others.
Anthea opened the door to the Men's Changing Room and put an arm around the corner to reach for the light switches. A number of fluorescent tubes flashed into life. As my eyes adjusted to the brighter lights I could see that the place had tiled walls, floor and ceiling. First impressions suggested that this could double up as a football team's changing room. There was a massage table at the centre, a number of lockers, clothes hooks and benches against the side walls, and a door in one corner. There were no windows to the room, just ventilation fans to take away the stale air.
Anthea pointed everything out to me without actually entering the room. I assumed that the same rules applied to the women as did the men. She filled me in with all the details.
"Showers and toilets are over there, through that door in the corner. The private lockers are down this side," she told me, then went on to say: "You'll get one allocated to you eventually. The lockers over that side hold all the gear. So if you want to change into something more suitable for the occasion, then go right ahead, I'm sure you'll find something suitable in there. Most new members take advantage of the club's stuff while they're waiting for their own gear to arrive. Hendry's got all the catalogues and things in his office when you're ready to order."
I was fascinated to learn what she categorised simply as 'club's stuff'. So, trying not to show too much keenness, I strolled into the room and opened up one of the lockers to see what was inside. In this first one most of the contents were clothing items made from leather. I shut the door and moved along the row, opening up each locker in turn. It appeared that everything a serious devotee of BDSM ever wanted could be found somewhere along this line. There were uniforms, caps, hoods and plenty of items simply made up of a lot of straps.
I tried on a peaked cap and looked at myself in a mirror. I could not make up my mind whether I was meant to be a Hell's Angel or an Officer of the Third Reich. Cocking my head to one side I turned towards the doorway and asked Anthea for her opinion.
"Well, what do you think?" I said with an added wink.
She looked amused by my antics, then shook her head.
"Doesn't suit you Woody," she answered, "the younger member's here usually go for that kind of stuff. But I think you'd be much better off going for the dungeon look. Leather trousers, boots, straps and an executioner's hood would be more like you, and it's far more in keeping with the atmosphere down here."
I decided to remain dressed just the way I was for the time being and put the peeked cap back in the locker. I noticed that somebody had left a video tape on a shelf. It was not in a box. Out of curiosity I picked it up and looked for a label or title, but it was completely unmarked. I put it back and closed the door.
I'd seen all I wanted to see. There were no security cameras in the men's room unlike the ladies. In fact security was probably the wrong word for it. As far as I could make out all the cameras in the building had been put where they were solely for Fernando's benefit. They were purely and simply there for the barman to see who was at the door and to check on what ladies were available for the members. At least I hoped that was the case, for I was hatching a plan which had a lot riding on the accuracy of these assumptions.
"Maybe I'll come back and change after I've seen what goodies lie in store for me just across the corridor," I said and rejoining Anthea in the doorway.
She smiled, and with a naughty glint in her eyes switched off the lights and closed the door.
"Follow me then Woody, and feast your eyes on this little lot!" she said cheekily, and with that she moved on down the corridor.
It was not very far, just half a dozen paces to the centre of the corridor. At the far end I could now see that the other door was simply marked 'Private'.
However, the door Anthea had led me to was all very different. It was arched, made of what looked like solid oak, and was embedded with black painted studs. Furthermore there was writing both on the door and on the wall above. I needed to stand well away with my back to the wall opposite to see it in all its glory. The words: 'Ye Olde Dungeon' in gold leaf, were written stretched across the door in Olde English script, and circling above it, neatly painted within a flying heraldic banner were the words: 'Abandon all hope, all ye that enter here'.
"Good isn't it?" remarked Anthea. "One of our members did all this. It took him over six weeks to finish."
I tried to share her obvious enthusiasm.
"Mmmm... great! So this is where it's all suppose to happen then is it? Or is there more down there through that door marked private?" I asked and pointing towards the door further along the corridor.
Anthea giggled.
"That's Fernando's stock room," she informed me, "it's full of crates and bottles and things, so don't get yourself all excited about that place."
I shrugged my shoulders. At least I'd discovered what lay behind the door. Rule number one in detective work was to get the floor plan sorted out before you did anything foolish. Also an escape route was always a good idea and I had identified at least one emergency exit in the corridor above.
There was an oversized key hanging on a hook next to the arched door. Anthea took it from the hook and put it in the lock.
"This is what you have to look for Woody," she explained and pointing to the key. "If the key's missing then it means that someone's using the place and doesn't want to be disturbed. You can lock it from the inside. Otherwise, if you keep it unlocked and put the key back, then that means you don't mind sharing. It's up to you what you do, but it doesn't matter tonight, because no one's coming down here anyway. Fernando will see to that."
After getting all that off her chest, Anthea turned the key slowly in the lock and the corridor echoed to a series of great clunking noises as the barrels fell into place. The door open slightly inwards and she pushed it the rest of the way to reveal a room in total darkness.
"I'll go in first and put the lights on. You'd better stay here Woody," she informed me.
Anthea disappeared into the gloom and I waited for the lights to come on. This time there were no fluttering fluorescent tubes to adjust one's eyes too, just bank after bank of discreetly hidden spotlights coming on as she appeared to work her way across a long line of switches.
As the last switch clicked she called: "That's it Woody, you can come in now."
I entered the room and stood on what was the top of four wide stone steps that dropped down to the dungeon floor. Immediately a cold shiver ran down my spine. Boy was this some dungeon. The chamber was quite large, the width apparently going beyond the extent of the corridor outside, and the length, stretching away from me something like three times that distance. The floor had been laid out in flagstones, and the walls lined in granite blocks. With the extra drop in floor level, the roof was quite high. It was arched and vaulted with a number of supporting circular stone pillars. To be quite honest I was impressed and gave a little whistle. Somehow, despite the apparent newness of everything, the place did have something of an authentic look to it.
I now knew why the membership fees were so high. It must have cost a fortune to fit this place out. The main feature was a rack positioned right in the centre with everything else spread out around the peripheries. At the far end I could see a cage, a brazier, and a couple of wooden posts on a semi-circular raised area.
To the left I observed two huge wooden crosses, one conventionally Christian, the other in the shape of a letter 'X'. Down the right I noted a number of stocks and pillories and a couple of iron cages thrown in for good measure.
There were also a lot of chains about the place, or to be more precise, they were everywhere. Most were fixed to rings embedded in the pillars and walls, but a few were just rolled up and lying on the floor. There were also several stands containing whips, scourges and such like, and all placed in various strategic positions about the floor. From the perspective of the doorway, the room had a general look of tidiness and good order about it, with everything neatly in its place. I wondered if they had a cleaner in twice a week.
Whilst I was absorbing all this, Anthea was stood behind me. She had remained on the top step with her back to the bank switches.
"Well? What do you think Woody?" she asked over my shoulder.
I turned to face her and nodded my approval.
"Not bad, not bad at all!" I replied and trying to sound impressed.
Anthea looked pleased with my answer.
"I knew you'd like it," she said with a noticeable swagger. "Hendry's spent a lot of money on this place."
I then spotted the security camera. It was fixed to the wall just above where Anthea was standing. I pointed to it.
"What about that up there? I hope we aren't going to be watched all night," I told her.
She looked up, saw what I was pointing at, then tried to allay my fears.
"Oh that thing!" she exclaimed. "Don't worry about that. You'll soon get used to it. Fernando uses it to see who's down here. But he never ogles, he knows better than that, and besides he knows we've got the place to ourselves tonight, so don't fret, no one will be peeping."
"Are there any more in here?" I asked and looking about the chamber.
"No, just that one," she assured me.
I hoped she was right, but just in case I made a mental note to disable the spying eye at the first opportunity.
I descended the four stone steps and made my way up the centre of the dungeon floor. Out of curiosity I stopped alongside the rack to investigate it more closely. The torturous device was positioned lengthways down the room with the feet end pointing towards the door. The wicked looking contraption was made almost entirely of well seasoned hard timber, most probably oak. All the surfaces were planed smooth, stained a very dark brown, and resting on six bulky square legs.
My immediate impressions were, that this was a very well crafted and workmanlike construction. The surface on which the victim lay stood at about waist height and had thick, highly polished boards running down the full length of the bed. At the base, two fleece-lined ankle-cuffs, attached to two short chains and anchored near each corner rested on the surface. Likewise, a matching pair of similarly fleece-lined wrist-cuffs lay on the bed at the other end. These were attached to two much longer chains, which in turn were wound around a large wooden drum. The winding mechanism itself was operated by a simple four-spoked wheel driving a series of cogs and gears.
I ran my fingers over the smooth wooden surface and contemplated its usefulness. At the back of my mind I was hatching a plan that involved putting Anthea out of action for a short period of time. I considered the possibility of strapping her down on this monster, and I must admit, I found the whole idea totally enjoyable. But time was marching on and I wanted to see what else was on offer before finalising any plans. Quickly I turned and set off towards the far end of the chamber.
The raised area at the far end was in the shape of a semi-circle, with a high single step up, and with the floor laid down in the same flagstones as the rest of the chamber. A large, rectangular wrought-iron cage stood against the back wall, with a small door and massive padlock to the front.
Centre stage, in the middle of the semi-circle, were two wooden posts sunk into the ground and set about six feet apart. There were chains and manacles at the top and bottom of each post. In front of the posts, almost on the leading edge of the raised area stood a brazier.
I stepped up to investigate. There were about a dozen branding irons inside the wrought-iron basket and resting on top of a layer of coke. I selected a branding iron that had a much more ornate handle to it than the rest. The tip was quite small and in the shape of a letter 'H'. I wondered if this was the same iron I'd seen in the picture halfway down the basement stairs.
Anthea joined me but noticeably did not step up on the raised section.
"The coals inside are artificial. That thing runs on gas," she explained. "There's a tap underneath and you light it from the top. But it does the job all the same."
I showed her the tip of the branding iron I was holding and said: "'H' for Hendry I suppose?"
Anthea seemed to consider the question for a moment.
"Hendry gets them all made specially. The 'H' is his though. You don't use that one. It's his, and it serves a special purpose," she said eventually and with a noticeable hint of threat attached.
I put it back and selected another to be on safer grounds. All the same, I did wonder what she meant about serving a special purpose.
Anthea continued to explain the significance of the brands whilst I shuffled through the pack.
"You'll find a few more initials in there if you search, but most are just designs and symbols. There's one with a skull that's quite popular. But if you want a 'W' for Woody, and there's not one there, then I'm sure he'll get one made for you," she said.
I found one with the letter 'S' on the end.
"Sade? As in Marquis perhaps?" I suggested.
Anthea shrugged her shoulders.
"No idea. Could be anybody's here. There's several Smiths," she replied, and obviously not making any real connection.
I put the iron back and stepped down off the platform.
Looking about the chamber I told her: "Well there's certainly enough things down here to keep us both occupied for a very long time. The place is stocked with all of the usual paraphernalia plus a whole lot more, so what more could a man ask for?"
"You're pleased then Woody?" she asked.
I nodded my head.
"I sure am Anthea, and I guess I'm eager to get something started. So how about us giving it a little try then?" I replied and trying to sound enthusiastic.
"Okay Woody, let us begin then. I'm all yours for the evening, to do with what you want," she replied, and with a chuckle of obvious excitement to her voice.
I must admit I had a little chuckle myself, and I rubbed my hands together in eager readiness.
"Is there anything else I ought to know before we get down to the serious business then?" I asked as a final question.
On the one hand I needed to get things moving quickly, but on the other I also wanted to cover all my available options. I had a basic plan churning over in my mind. Somehow I needed to get away from Anthea for about ten to fifteen minutes to check on what was happening upstairs between Hendry and Bo. Exactly why I wanted to do this, I did not know, other than feeling it my duty to do so.
Anthea cast her eyes about the chamber.
"Ah! There is one thing over there I think you should see first Woody," she said.
I was led away to a small table standing against a side wall and partially hidden behind one of the crosses. On it lay a video camera. It was on its side and plugged into a socket on the wall. A red light glowed on a panel and it emitted a faint hum.
Anthea pointed to the red light.
"That means it's on charge. There's a stand to put it on over there against the wall. You can set it up and leave it recording if you want to. You get blank tapes from behind the bar, and Fernando puts them on your monthly account. You can get up to six hours on one tape, and here are the instructions if you want to read what to do," she said handing over a dog-eared booklet.
I thumbed through the pages without really reading the contents. To be quite honest I had no wish to be recorded on video should it be held in evidence against me. At the back of my mind was still the vision of being caught in a raid from the Drugs Squad.
"I don't think so tonight," I said apologetically. "Let's just get something started shall we? I think I've seen all I want to see."
Anthea had obviously been through all this before and switched her attention to remind me of the rules before we got down to any serious business.
"I'm told you're an old hand at this game, so I guess I don't have to run through the list, but there are two basic rules we always stress before we start. The windpipe must be kept clear at all times. No throttling or choking, and a safe word must be agreed beforehand. My safe word is 'Mercy'. Is that understood?" she explained.
"Perfectly clear Anthea, and don't worry, we're both here to have a bit of fun aren't we? I'm a connoisseur, not one of these crude strap-'em-up and flog-the-ass-off-them idiots. I can do much better than that, you'll see," I said and trying to assure her.
Anthea's face began to glow.
"In that case Woody, I'm all yours for the rest of the evening," she said and throwing back her stole to show off her breasts and cleavage to their best advantage. "Tell me what you've got in mind and what role you want me to play and I'll go and get changed into something suitable for the occasion. What's your biggest turn on then Woody? Slave girl? School Uniform? Nun? Nurse? Bridesmaid? You tell me and I'll sort something out really nice for you."
I stopped her dead in her tracks. Time was pressing and I reckoned that I ought to be checking on Bo rather than messing about with a nurse's uniform. So I finalised my plans.
"I don't think any of that will be necessary Anthea," I told her straight. "Roll play and dressing up doesn't do a lot for me. I prefer to see a whole lot of flesh right from the word go. So start getting yourself undressed. Take off everything, I want to see you stripped naked, and do that as quickly as possible. You can put all your things on the table next to the video camera if you don't want them to get all messed up."
My demands must have come as a total shock to her, for it took a little time to register.
"You want me to take everything off in here?… Now?… without getting changed into anything?" she asked, and obviously wanting confirmation.
I decided to stop being polite.
"You got it in one sister. We start right now. You start by getting your kit off,… Now!" I told her firmly.
I think this time the message got through. Anthea turned her back on me and unwound the stole from around her neck.
"Do us the honours then Woody and pull my zip down for me," she said and indicating with a finger over one shoulder.
I ran the zip down as far as it would go and relieved her of the stole.
"Carry on undressing. I want to give you a test of obedience. I want to see you stripped of everything by the time I get back, or else!" I threatened her, and added: "And I'll take this stole. I've got use for it down the far end of the room."
Anthea turned to face me. There was a look of bewilderment upon her face.
"You want me to take everything off, including all my jewellery?" she asked and showing some concern over her expensive sparklers.
I nodded my head and reminded her of what I had just said.
"In my book, everything off means exactly what I say, and that includes all your diamonds, rings, bracelets, and whatever else you have on. I want it all gone by the time I get back, or else. Now jump to it. You're meant to be my personal slave tonight, so get a bloody move on and do it will you? I want to see you stripped naked and waiting for me when I get back. If not, then I'll tan that little tight backside of yours until it's bright red," I conveyed in my sternest voice.
Finally, and to emphasise the point clearly, I collected a riding crop from a nearby stand and waved it about in the air. My harsh words coupled with swishing sounds from the riding crop appeared to do the trick and Anthea immediately burst into action.
As the expensive evening gown began to slide down her body she replied demurely: "Yes Woody my master. A slave must always obey her master. Please do not beat me master, I beg of you!"
I waited a while to see if she needed assistance to wriggle out of the tight, sequin adorned dress, but it was obvious that she could cope without me. So I gave her one last reminder before setting off.
"Any slackness on your part and you'll get a crack of this crop across your backside," I threatened.
Leaving Anthea to get her party dress off, I walked slowly back down the chamber towards the door. I did not particularly want to give her a beating, so I took my time. The security camera was fixed to a bracket on the wall. By standing on tip-toes I was able to get the stole wrapped around the bracket and draped over the lens.
On entering the door had been left ajar. I switched the key over to the inside and locked us both in. With the door locked and the camera disabled I must admit I felt a whole lot happier, and safe in the knowledge that I could neither be seen nor interrupted.
Slapping the crop against the palm of a hand, I strode back to the position where Anthea was getting undressed. Once more I did not rush. As I got closer I could see that she was progressing quite nicely. The evening dress, the expensive jewellery, and the long gloves had already gone. She was struggling to remove the last of her nylon stockings when I arrived back at the table. She was obviously not ready, she still wore her bra and panties, so I cracked the riding crop down hard upon the surface of the table to gain her attention.
"Slave, I have returned and you are not ready. Come with me, now, this instant," I ordered in my most authoritarian voice, and with that I strode off towards the rack in the centre of the chamber.
Anthea's remaining nylon stocking was down about her ankle as I issued the order. She followed me, walking with the crumpled stocking still on one foot. She was a little out of breath, but considering the task assigned to her, she had obviously worked hard and fast. In the short time allotted she had managed to strip down to wearing only a tasteful matching pair of frilly red knickers and low cut, strapless bra, plus of course that crumpled up nylon stocking around her left ankle.
Anthea joined me at the rack and I looked at her sternly.
"Tell me slave, why are you still wearing these things, and this about your ankle?" I asked, and tapping her on the tits, waist and foot with the end of the riding crop. "Did I not order you to be completely undressed by the time I returned?"
Anthea gave a demure look.
"I hurried as fast as I could my master. Please... please no... please don't punish me!" she begged, and placing her hands together as if in prayer and asking for forgiveness.
"Well your effort just wasn't good enough was it slave? Now turn around and face the rack, place your hands at the surface and bend over," I told her.
Anthea turned away to face the wooden structure, placed her hands as instructed, then thrust out her backside in my direction. I stepped back and I gave her just one short sharp crack with the crop across the buttocks. I knew immediately that I'd hit her excessively hard. But other than an instinctive recoil and short gasp for air, she said nothing and remained in position bracing herself for the next strike to land. I had deliberately hit her across the panties, thinking that the material would cushion the blow, but from her reaction I guessed that not to be the case.
Anyway, I decided one stoke was enough.
"That's for being far too slow," I told her, "now stand up."
Anthea stood up straight, rubbed her sore backside then turned to face me. I looked for signs of stress upon her face, but could detect nothing to suggest that I had gone too far. I considered my next move before addressing her again.
"You're just an idle little bitch," I told her sternly, "a beating's not good enough for you. You must be punished properly. Get that stocking off your foot immediately, leave your bra and panties on, then get up on the rack. And do it quickly slave, or you'll feel the sting of my crop again."
"Yes Woody my master. Straightaway master. Please master, don't beat me again," she pleaded, then sprang into action.
In haste Anthea pulled the offending nylon from off her foot and dropped it on the floor. To speed things up I cracked the whip hard against the surface of the rack to remind her who was boss. After that no more stern words were needed. With an agile step she bounded upwards to sit on the edge of the rack. Then raised up her feet onto the surface and laid herself down along the full length of the boards.
I waited for her to settle properly before speaking.
"That's lovely slave, now stay like that," I told her, "and don't move a muscle."
At the bottom of the rack there were two sheepskin lined leather straps attached to two short chains. They were well spaced out and positioned close to the two bottom corners of the rack. I quickly buckled the straps about the ankles. I was surprised to find how helpful Anthea was in all this. She opened up her legs, and, as I worked away, she adjusted her position accordingly. Then, when I was finished, she raised up her arms above her head, settled back down, and waited.
I moved to the top of the rack. Once more there were two fleece-lined leather straps attached to chains just above Anthea's head. These chains were much longer and wound around a large drum. Again, and with a little help from Anthea, I buckled the straps about the wrists.
When done, I tested all four anchorage points in turn. All seemed solid, so I gave the winding wheel a few turns. It clanked away merrily and the chain began to wind about the drum.
I carried on turning.
As the tension in the chains increased, I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Anthea could get out of this little lot, and I could see my chance to get away and check on Bo.
Eventually, when I considered there to be enough tension in the chains without really hurting, I stopped and leaned over the rack.
"Comfortable?" I asked.
Anthea turned her head towards me.
"Yes Woody my Master. I am most comfortable!" she replied and sounding a little bemused that I should be asking such a thing.
I guess she considered herself to be in a predicament in which she was not exactly meant to feel comfortable. But all the same, her words made me feel reasonably happy. At least I was now in a position to drop my bombshell on her.
I bent over, looked her in the face, and told her: "Well if you're feeling comfortable, I guess I can leave you alone down here for a bit. Goodbye my dear. Now don't go away, will you?"
I patted her on the stomach, and as I did so a look of surprise crossed her face.
"Woody, my Master, you are leaving me?" she questioned with a furrowed brow.
I guess nobody had walked out on her before, especially whilst strapped to a rack, so this must have come as a bit of a shock.
"Don't worry sweetheart, it's not permanent. All that effort was thirsty work, so I'm just going to have a little drink at the bar, then I'll be back for the serious stuff afterwards" I explained to her.
"Then I'll wait patiently for my master's return, and hope that he enjoys his drink," she replied.
"Bye," I said, then turned my back on her and walked away towards the door.
I climbed the few steps and unlocked the door with the large key.
"I'll leave you to study the vaulted ceiling, and contemplate upon what the future holds for you on my return," I called just before closing the door behind me.

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End of Chapter Seven