"So, Diana. Here we are. The club occupies three floors. The lounge, billiard room, restaurant and bar are on this level." He led me up the spiral staircase in the center of the room. As we approached the next level a whiff of chlorine tickled my nose. "Athletic facilities occupy the 29th floor: gym, sauna, massage, swimming pool..."
"Swimming pool! You've certainly spared no expense."
"Our members expect the best. They're used to it. And believe me, they pay for it." We continued to climb. "I assume you're most interested in our – um – recreational facilities here on thirty..."
The stairs ended in a circular, wood-paneled hall. There were four doors set into the walls.
"Locker rooms for both members and staff are through here." Sam pointed to the door facing us. "The one behind me leads to a second elevator, for members who don't want to be seen coming up to this floor. Through here" – he indicated the door to his left – "we have half a dozen fully equipped private play rooms. But I suspect that this is what you most want to see. The public dungeon."
He pressed his palm to a metal plate next to the right hand door, which slid open at his touch. "After you, Ajarn," he added, a touch of mockery in his tone.
My amazement must have been obvious.
The room we entered was cavernous, so large that I had a difficult time making out the details of the implements arrayed on the far wall. Like the lounge two floors below, the dungeon had a wall of glass looking out over the city, but translucent gray blinds filtered the brutal sun. As a result, the room had a twilight quality, even in the middle of the afternoon.
Scattered around the vast space I saw every kind of bondage and fetish equipment imaginable. Padded horses and flogging tables. St. Andrews crosses and suspension harnesses. Steel cages, dentist chairs, stocks, and a convincingly medieval rack. Industrial-strength hooks on heavy chain hung at intervals from beams in the ceiling. Scattered around the floor were free-standing steel-mesh dividers that served double duty, breaking the area up into regions as well as providing readily accessible storage for a mouth-watering variety of paddles, floggers, switches, crops, whips of every description – not to mention glittering silver implements I knew must be clamps, chains, weights and other instruments of discipline and torture.
I hadn't seen anything like this since I'd left the States a dozen years before. No, I corrected myself. I'd never seen anything like this, a dungeon equipped at this lavish scale.
My remaining nipple tightened into an aching peak. I noted how shallow my breathing had become. My tailored silk trousers felt far too confining. Prendergast observed my reaction, a grin twitching at his mouth.
"I gather you approve."
"I'm impressed, I'll admit." I pictured my poor little bar – the pathetic toys brandished by my dancers – my attempts to create a space where people could safely explore their fantasies of power exchange. How could I compete with this?
Of course, my customers and Sam's came from totally different worlds. "How did you manage to import all this without raising the eyebrows of Customs? When a simple dildo hidden in a suitcase can be enough to get you blacklisted?"
"My customers – well, let's just say I have connections." He led me over to a bondage chair upholstered in supple, aromatic leather. My fingers itched to stroke the smooth surface. "And some items – this chair, for instance – I commissioned locally. Go ahead, sit down. Comfortable, isn't it? Deceptively so..."
The cuffs attached to the chair arms brushed the bare skin at my wrists. I had a sudden vision of Nok strapped into the device, a gag stretched between her lips, clamps biting into her sweet nipples and rosy labia...
My cunt was dissolving into a messy puddle. I rose abruptly, pushing the lascivious image away.
Sam squeezed my shoulder and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "You'd like to play here, wouldn't you, Diana? I can see the wheels turning in your devious Domme mind – planning all the things you'd like to do to your slaves..."
I shook off his hand. "I can't afford membership in a place like this. Anyway, I'm not sure your – customers – would put up with riffraff like me."
"You can be my guest. Anytime you want."
"Really?" I hated myself for the hint of pleading I heard in my voice.
"Really. All you have to do is bring Nok along with you."
Nok. I wheeled to face him. "Speaking of Nok – what did you think you were doing, leaving her alone while she was still bound? Someone with your apparent experience – you should know better."
He flashed me a defiant smile. "She was perfectly safe. I tipped off the police pretty much as soon as I left the hotel. Anyway, she loved it. I rocked her world. Just ask her."
"Oh really? You have no idea-"
"Ow..." The groan came from across the room, behind one of the dividers. "Ow! Ay!"
"I thought we were alone."
My host glanced in the direction of the pained protests. "The dungeon's open twenty four hours, but very few of our members play in the afternoon."
"Ow...ow...ooh..." I headed toward the pitiful sounds.
"Wait!" Prendergast grabbed my sleeve. "Don't you dare disturb – "
"Hush," I hissed, shaking him off. "I'm not disturbing anyone."
"Keep your mouth shut, bitch!" The admonition was in Thai, in a gruff tone so filled with malice it sent chills down my spine. I drew closer, trying to keep quiet so as not to interrupt the scene in progress. Now I could hear the distinctive whistle of a single-tail whip slicing through the air and the snap as it connected with bare flesh.
"Ow..."
"If you make one more sound, you filthy slut, I swear I'll tear out your tongue!"
Whistle! Snap!
A Thai man of medium height and build, probably in his early fifties and dressed in casual slacks and a white polo, stood before a vertical steel frame. The body of his partner hung on the frame, secured at the wrist, waist and ankles with thick coils of rope. A hood of black leather completely enclosed her head. He raised his arm and sent the whip sizzling through the air to land on her right shoulder. She jerked in her bonds but remained silent.
"Don't bother him," Sam whispered in my ear. "Khun Phichit is a very important man."
"I thought you catered to foreigners." I winced as a particularly vicious blow landed on the girl's dusky thigh.
"Mostly. There are a few Thais who appreciate this sort of power..."
Whistle! Snap! Whistle! Snap!
The dominant increased the speed and force with which he lashed the bound woman. He seemed oblivious to the fact he had an audience. The submissive had stopped moving altogether, but he continued his ferocious lashes to her back and buttocks.
I peered more closely at the lines striping her lovely skin. "She's bleeding! He should stop."
"Diana...don't..."
"Sir? Excuse me, sir." I stepped forward, into the Dom's line of sight, speaking my most polite Thai. "I think your partner has had enough, sir."
"What?" He glared at me, his arm half-raised for his next stroke. "Who the hell are you?"
"Who I am doesn't matter. But I think you should stop before you damage her."
"This slut?" His laugh made me nauseous. "It loves pain." He used the Thai pronoun appropriate for animals and inanimate objects, a serious insult. "The more I beat it, the more it wants."
"I don't think that's quite true, sir." Forcing myself to remain calm and courteous, I approached the sub. She hung on the frame, totally inert, like a hunk of bloody meat in a slaughterhouse. "Miss? Are you all right?"
"Keep your fucking hands off her, you dyke!" I was already pulling off the hood. Tangled black hair tumbled around a pale face. The girl's eyes were closed. A trickle of drool escaped from her slack mouth.
"Miss? Miss?" She didn't respond. "She's unconscious, Prendergast. Help me get her down from here."
"You have no right!" the dominant yelled. "It's mine. I can do what I want with it."
Instead of assisting me in untying the woman, Sam wor
ked to mollify his irate customer.
"I'm sorry, Khun Phichit. Of course you're her master. But we do have rules here, as you know – you agreed to them when we accepted your membership application. And as you may recall, we require that all participants must be conscious for a scene to proceed."
"It's probably faking it, the lying little bitch, just to avoid me."
"She's not faking. I think she may need a doctor. Where's the first aid kit?" I lifted the girl in my arms – I doubt she weighed forty kilos – and headed for a padded table off to the left, where I stretched her out on her stomach with her face to one side so as not to aggravate her wounds. I checked her pulse. It was fast but regular. "Get me some smelling salts and some antiseptic, damn it!"
The club owner continued to pacify Khun Phichit. "We'll take care of her. Why don't you go down to the bar and have something to drink. I'll call you when she wakes up." He led the disgruntled Thai toward the exit. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder to me. "Or I'll send someone."
Indeed, it was Malee who arrived a few minutes later with a well-stocked emergency kit. By then the sub was stirring and moaning. We cleaned the oozing cuts carved by her master's whip, daubed them with antibiotic ointment and covered them with gauze. The pain associated with our ministrations pulled her back to full awareness.
She struggled to a sitting position. Malee offered her a glass of water, which she downed in four swallows. "Where is Master Phi?" she asked. "He'll be angry with me..."
"Never mind. He's not worthy to be your master. A good master always keeps his slaves safe. I don't want you to go back to him. Come home with me; I'll take care of you until you're well enough to be on your own."
Malee looked worried. "Ajarn, you must not interfere. Khun Sam will kill me if I let you take her..."
"Tell Khun Sam that I think the police would be very interested in the sort of thing that goes on here at Club Lacoste. But I'll keep quiet as long as he doesn't interfere with me. Now go find some clothing for this woman. Then call me a cab."
Malee wanted to object, but I could see she was used to taking orders – from Sam and perhaps from others too. She bowed her head and obeyed.
Chapter Fourteen
I brought the battered slave, who told me her name was Oy, back to my condo and put her to bed in my guest room. Almost at once she fell into a deep sleep, clearly exhausted by her ordeal at the hands of her so-called master. Damn Sam Prendergast! It was people like him who gave BDSM a bad reputation. After today's demonstration, I wasn't sure I wanted to help him recruit staff for Club Lacoste. I didn't want to take that kind of responsibility.
My throat felt raw from the combination of stress and the city pollution. I grabbed an iced tea from the fridge and sprawled on the sofa, my bare feet up on the coffee table. Even with the aircon on high, the place so warm that I had to shed my jacket. I sat for a while in just my bra, guzzling the tea and pondering what to do about Oy, about Sam, about everything...
I found myself picturing the club's incredible dungeon once more. So wonderfully well-equipped – I couldn't deny that the possibilities excited me. Of course, toys are nothing but props. An experienced dominant doesn't need them to exert her power. But they add variety, and can enhance the submissive's response simply because of their associations.
What would my colonel think about that whip Phichit had been wielding? I could see the wiry Thai shackled to a punishment bench, his surprisingly plump butt in the air. I could smell his sweat, his terror and his need, as I brought my lash down on his proffered flesh...
Of course, he'd never allow me to punish him in a public place, even among like-minded players. He'd die of shame. No, our sessions would have to remain strictly private. I wondered if he was craving another taste of my discipline yet. I licked my lips and pinched my nipple through the cotton of my brassiere. Next time, maybe I'd bind him to the bed frame. I wondered if his wife had ever fucked his ass. Would he let me?
As though in response to my fantasies, my phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hello. This is Colonel Apichat speaking." He'd switched back to using English with me. That didn't bode well.
"Good afternoon, Colonel. How are you?" I worked hard to convey the warmth I felt via the conventional greeting.
"Please come meet me at your bar." There was a stiffness in his voice, a tension I didn't understand. "As soon as possible."
"What is it? Is it about the – the killings?"
"No – something else. Please be there by six, Madame."
"All right. I'd normally be at work by then anyway." I was already up and heading for the shower, puzzling over his odd inflection. "I'll see you at six." I decided to try teasing him. "Will you be wearing your belt?"
"Madame. Please." He did not sound amused. If I'd excited him, he hid it well. "Be there."
"Okay, okay. I'm practically on my way."
"Goodbye." He broke the connection without waiting for my response.
What was going on?
I slipped into the guest room to check on Oy before I left. She lay on her side, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and steady. I scanned her lithe, naked body. Livid circles marked the creamy skin of her palm-sized breasts – the results of cigarette burns, if I wasn't mistaken. The sadistic bastard!
As if she felt the weight of my scrutiny, the girl stirred and rolled onto her back. "Ow..." Her weak exclamation at the pain only stoked my fury.
"Try to stay on your stomach or side, or you'll disturb the bandages." She obeyed, her eyes dark pools of fear. "I have to go out, but I want you to stay here, Oy. There's water and food on the bedside table. Just stay put, alright? Will you do that?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And don't call anyone – especially not that asshole Phichit. Tomorrow we'll find somewhere safe for you."
"But – he'll kill me if I don't go back to him..." Oy struggled to sit up. The pain felled her and she slumped back into the pillows.
"He might kill you if you do, silly girl. Listen to me. You're lucky to be here with me. Don't be stupid."
The girl nodded, though I wasn't convinced I'd gotten through to her. What could I do? I had the fleeting notion of securing her to the bed. I had a chain that was long enough to let her reach the toilet... She wasn't actually a slave, though. I couldn't really stop her from leaving.
I just hoped, for her own sake as well as mine, that she understood how bad an idea that would be.
Chapter Fifteen
I was the first girl to arrive at the bar that night. I wanted Ajarn to see I'm serious about my job. I dressed in my cat woman costume. Then I sat on a tall stool outside the door with my legs crossed and my riding crop on my lap. I swung my high-heeled boot back and forth, trying to attract attention.
"Come inside," I called out to the men who passed. I made sure they could hear me over the loud music coming from the other bars. "Sexy BDSM show. No cover charge." Some of the men ate me up with their eyes as they strolled by – just another pretty girl. They didn't see my crop. They didn't understand. A few stopped, though, staring and looking nervous. I hooked those guys like fish. "Come inside. I know what you want, mister. You like my whip? I know how to use it." I pulled back the curtains and they scurried inside like little mice. Lin would enjoy playing with them.
I spotted the police coming from half a block away. Then it was my turn to run.
"P' Daeng! Police! Six or seven of them!" Ajarn hadn't arrived yet. What were we going to do?
It was that skinny colonel who came by every few weeks, plus two lieutenants and a couple of regular officers. "I want to speak to the owner," he told Daeng.
"I think she will be here soon. Please, sit down. Can I get you something?"
"No, no." He sounded angry. He and his men settled in booths near the front of the bar. The girls all huddled near the back, whispering and staring. Nu put on a Thai song. Of course no one danced.
I could hardly breathe. I checked my phone. It was 17:52. Wher
e was Ajarn?
Finally she arrived. She obviously wasn't surprised to see the police.
"Colonel Apichat. Welcome back to The Academy. How can I help you?"
The policeman rose from his seat and drew an official-looking paper from his pocket. "Madame. You are the owner of this bar?" He spoke in English.
"Of course I am, Colonel. You know that."
He passed her the paper. I crept closer so I could see better what was going on. "It is my duty to inform you that this bar is closed."
Now Ajarn looked shocked. "Closed? But why?" She scanned the document. I guess she was searching for a signature. Ajarn can read Thai, but only a little.
"By order of the Metropolitan Police, the bar known as The Academy is ordered to be closed for offering lewd and obscene entertainment that offends public morality."
Ajarn laughed. She was taller than the policeman. "Oh, please! You can't be serious. Every bar in Patpong offers entertainment at least as lewd as mine. Are you going to close them all?"
The colonel shifted from one foot to the other. He reminded me of the men who cluster around me when I dance – fascinated and scared. Still, his voice made it sound like he was in charge. "There have been complaints."
"Complaints from whom, Apichat?" Ajarn towered over him, but he held his ground.
"I can't tell you that, Madame. All I can say is that my superiors have instructed me to close this bar and bring both you and your employees to the police station to be charged."
"What? That's outrageous! My girls haven't done anything wrong..."
"Madame. I hope that you will cooperate." He detached his handcuffs from his belt and gestured to Ajarn. "Your wrists, please. I'm sorry, but I have my orders."
I thought for a minute that she would hit him. Her hands clenched into fists. Her lips drew back from her teeth, until she looked like a snarling dog. Don't, I thought. When it comes to the police, Ajarn, you can't win.
The moment stretched tighter and tighter. I watched Ajarn fight with herself. Finally she sighed, and I did, too, in relief. "Are the cuffs really necessary, Colonel? What do you think I'm going to do, steal your night stick and smash your head in?"
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