Den of Iniquity Ch. 02

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Author’s note: Welcome to the continuing journey into the Den of Iniquity. This chapter probably works okay on its own, but you would be well served to check the first chapter (and vote! lol), if you haven’t read it. Enjoy, dear reader.

What the fuck was I doing? I liked my life. Simple, straightforward. No mess, no fuss. “Work hard, keep your nose clean,” my Dad always said. God rest his soul. I hadn’t been out at night in months. Work, study, work, study. Get the job done. Prove my ex-wife wrong. I towelled off my hair and flossed. I shaved. It was unlike me to be doing something like this.

Who was I kidding? The place I lived in looked like a motel. Half my clothes were still in a suitcase for God’s sake. It was actually a third floor “studio apartment.” Pfft. I had to turn sideways to get into the bathroom. After selling the family home and dividing the proceeds with my ex-wife, I moved in, with plans to “find somewhere more permanent” when the dust settled. Three years later I was still here. And it still looked like a motel.

This was a chance to jump the rut. To do something different. To ‘be’ something different. I knew virtually no one. That made me nervous. But I was kind of excited. It was like a fresh start.

Then again, these people must be pretty strange. For a moment I wondered if this was a good idea. Ugh. I was so confused.

I was sitting on the end of my bed with my towel wrapped around my waist, thinking all these crazy thoughts. I shook my head and stood up, dropping the towel. I passed the full-length mirror leaning against the wall and stopped. I turned towards it. At least I still looked okay. There was need to feel self-conscious about what shape I was in. Not yet anyway. I promised myself once more, to start jogging tomorrow.

I still had the party to think of, so I also resolved not drink too much and ruin everything. I reminded myself to try to keep my mouth shut as well.

I figured I’d give the place an hour. At least I’d have something to talk about around the office water cooler. Heck, I might even learn something. I had a feeling in my gut I was going to enjoy myself though. My cock was thickening in agreement as I stood before the full-length mirror.

“Down boy.”

I laughed and got dressed. It didn’t take me long.

I was closing the door behind me on the way out, when I took one last look inside.

“I gotta do something about this apartment,” I said.

Half a block from the entrance to the Domina Flagrante, I parked my car. For a few moments I sat in it, getting up my courage. My hands were sweating and I watched, waiting to see if anyone arrived. I was ten minutes early so I had a few minutes.

I turned the car mirror toward myself and fixed my purple tie. ‘Fashionable and smart’ was the look I was trying to project. Decked out in my dark grey suit, black button-down shirt and black shoes, I felt a little uncomfortable. Having not worn ‘going out clothes’ in a while, I felt strange and I didn’t want to attract attention. I didn’t want to stand out. I wanted to remain anonymous. An anonymous voyeur. That sounded a lot cooler than I felt.

I watched a thirtyish, well-dressed couple enter the club, and I felt a little more comfortable. At least they looked… ‘normal’. I winced and remembered my ex-wife’s words. “Why can’t you be ‘normal’ and do what other guys your age are doing…” I set my jaw.

I looked at my watch. Okay let’s do this. After getting out of the car, I locked it, and smoothed down my suit. I pulled my suit jacket tightly around me. Winter was coming. I took a deep breath and made my way.

As I approached, I cast my eyes over the building. At night it felt much more imposing. It really stood out. There were a number of spotlights in the trees lighting up the black facade. I walked up to the front door and pressed the button on the intercom.

“Domina Flagrante, how may I help you?”

I was glad to hear Adrian’s familiar voice.

“Good evening Adrian, Roger Moore here,” I said.

“Greetings Sir, do come in. Mistress is expecting you.”

The door swung open, and a huge black man stood in my way momentarily, before scouting the street over my head, and stepping aside.

“Mr. Moore? This is Jonathan, our Head of Security. He is paranoid.”

“Am not!” The black monolith boomed. He pushed Roger in the shoulder and the weedy Englishman would have lost his footing if not for Jonathan catching and righting him just as quickly. “Just kiddin with ya man…”

“You big oaf.” They grinned at each other. “Excuse us Sir, Jonathan and I have known each other a long time.”

I smiled.

At that moment a buzzer sounded and Adrian leaned into a speaker on the wall and gave his greeting. I heard the door open behind me but Jonathan had my attention.

“May I take your jacket Sir? If you prefer you may keep it on for a while – there is also a coat room in the Main Hall.”

“I think I’ll keep it on for a moment. Thanks Jonathan.” I didn’t know how Kurtköy Yabancı Escort long I was going to stay.

“As you wish Sir. Mistress Chantelle is waiting for you in the Salon for cocktails. First set of double doors on your left, Sir.”

“Thank you again Jonathan.” This was so posh.

At that moment a large woman, the last to arrive I could only assume, rushed by me, dragging a younger man by a leash who was wearing leather pants with the ass cut out of them. I had to stifle a giggle. I turned back to Adrian who shrugged at me and took the two long coats he held in his hands into the cloak room.

I reminded myself to keep an open mind… and a straight face… and a shut mouth. I turned and headed for the Salon.

“Greetings Roger, so glad you could make it, and on time too.” Chantelle held out her hand to me. I thought she was going to shake it, but she pulled Me close to her. My cheek was crisply kissed. I looked around and found myself right in the middle of a circle of people. So much for anonymity. “Roger I would like to introduce you to some of my friends.”

I nodded, scanning all the smiling faces. Everyone seemed so friendly.

“This is Mistress Jane, and her sub Morris.” I nodded and offered my hand to the completely normal looking, if not stylish, couple. “This is Alex, an old friend of mine. He’s running for the governorship in March.” He extended his hand and I shook it firmly.

“Hello, nice to meet you.”

“And these two are Josephine and Andrea.”

“Pleased to meet you Sir,” they chimed in unison, and curtseyed like ballerinas.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Chantelle winked at me so I winked back, completely clueless.

“A drink Roger?”

“I could do with a bourbon.”

“On the rocks?”

I nodded.

Chantelle passed my nod to Andrea, who took off for the bar.

“Hello Roger, so good to see you again.”

I spun around wondering if someone from the law firm was there, and was met by the out-thrust hand of Claudio, from ‘Jeremy’s’. I shook his hand just as firmly and found the circle around me closed. I started to blush. Chantelle took advantage of my discomfort.

“What’s wrong Roger, don’t like being the centre of attention?”

“Ah, well, actually… “

Claudio took me by the upper arm and pulled me beside him to enlarge the circle. “We all know Roger is vanilla Chantelle, give him a break. He must feel like a fish out of water.”

“Oh, you’re no fun Claudio.”

“Thanks Claudio,” I grinned. He leaned into my ear to speak privately.

“I have everything organised for Saturday night Roger. Catering is now under control. I’ve invited a guest too, I hope that is okay.”

“Oh sure. I mean yes that’s fine. And thanks Claudio.” I was starting to get nervous about Saturday night.

“Oh! Oh!” Chantelle exclaimed. “Everyone, Roger here is hosting a ‘do’ on Saturday night, and as long as you are well behaved, you are all invited.”

”Everyone?’ ‘Hosting?’ Jeez…

“And I would like you all to make sure he enjoys himself, and leaves the Domina Flagrante happy with his decision to choose my humble establishment for his party.”

Faces were smiling and nodding.

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Claudio.

“Can we come too Mistress?” Josephine asked. God she was a pretty thing. My eyes flicked down over her chest and she caught me doing it. She smiled at me as Chantelle responded.

“Of course you can little one, I imagine volunteers will be required of course.”

“Mmmmm thank you Mistress,” she said looking right at me.

Andrea returned with my drink and thanked me for the pleasure. I returned the compliment and thanked her. She had dark red hair, with black streaks through it, and very fair skin. With the dark makeup around her eyes, she looked like she could do with a good meal.

The next couple of minutes were a bit blurred. People asked me questions and I gave stock answers. What do you do? What are your plans for the future? That sort of thing. To be honest, I was caught up in my thoughts as I stood sipping my drink and trying to satisfy everyone’s curiosity.

What exactly did they do here?

I mean, do they really whip people? Like really.. whack! whack! whack! I looked around the gathering of Chantelle’s friends. Like Josephine? Could she take a whipping? She was so tiny and cute. Black hair cut in a page boy style, with lots of earrings in each ear. I counted them. Five. In each ear! She noticed my attention and blushed, turning her eyes to the floor.

Was she a slave kind of thing? Like, I could do anything to her? I flicked my eyes down to her chest and lingered for a moment on the prominent nipples that pressed against the sheer material covering them. Wow, they’re pierced. That must have hurt. I looked up into her dark brown eyes and she flickered her lashes almost imperceptibly. She was looking right into my eyes and smiling a little. In the corner of my vision I saw Chantelle Kurtköy Yeni Escort nudge Claudio with her elbow and nod.

Josephine clasped her hands in front of her crotch and drew her arms a little straight. The effect was enough to make me notice my dick was getting hard.


“Yes Mistress,” she replied, still with eyes on me.

“Stop teasing Roger, and go and get prepared please. You know you are on in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes Mistress.” Josephine blushed a shade darker than she already was.

“Will I help Mistress?” asked Andrea.

“Yes pet, you can strap her in.”

Pet? Strap her in?

Just like that, they were gone, practically skipping out the double doors holding hands, and turning left. It was amazing how they did exactly what Chantelle told them to do. Or did they? It was kind of different. Like they were doing what they wanted to do. And headed to what fate? God, my mind was starting to swirl.

All around people were smiling and chatting like in any upscale establishment. Everyone seemed to recognise each other though. What I found striking, was how terribly friendly everyone was. Hands being shaken and cheeks kissed. And polite. Some women, and even some of the men, had the backs of their hands kissed. It was all pretty subtle, but to me it was bizarre. It was amazing how conversations carried on right through it all. It was almost like a ritual.

The ritual involved a lot of touching. Just hand to hand, lips to hand, or lips to cheek. Nothing amorous. It was all tasteful. But as the Salon filled with new arrivals, it became almost constant. As I was contemplating all of this, Chantelle slipped her arm into mine and spun me around. We were exiting the Salon with a whole hoard seemingly following us.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Been off with the fairies Roger?”

“I’m sorry, it’s all a bit overwhelming.”

Chantelle leaned into me as we walked. She quickly explained that she hadn’t received any requests for a public exhibition so far that night, and she needed to have a volunteer, and Josephine was the lucky girl chosen.

“Lucky?” Public exhibition? Volunteer?

“Yes Roger, lucky. I am not going to flog the skin off her…”

“You’re going to whip her?”

“Indeed I am, but artfully. You would do well to watch closely.”


Chantelle seemed to change and rise an inch or two taller as the double doors were opened before us by two muscular guys in black t-shirts with a big red “DF” on the front. Each wore communicators on their heads. I was ready to stick my fingers in my ears in case I was hit with the driving rhythms I heard last time I was shown this room, but orchestra music floated out the doors as they were opened.

The quiet murmur of conversation stalled for just a moment as Chantelle and I led her throng into the hall. One of the waiters took my jacket. It felt like a banquet hall. Round tables were set out in an aesthetic pattern, and the stocks I saw last time I peeked in here were nowhere to be seen. I guessed the number of guests at around one hundred or so. The hall was barely half full. It looked very different from how it looked just this afternoon.

The murmur of conversation returned as I walked side by side with Chantelle toward the tables right in front of the stage. They were very large round tables, with tablecloths, and water jugs, and glasses set up. Three waiters were hovering seemingly at the ready. Chantelle showed me to my chair, front and centre, and beckoned me to sit.

My first reaction was to take her chair and guide her into it like a gentleman, but I balked at that, and looked around to see what others were doing. Everyone was looking at me, and I felt like they were waiting for me. In a split-second decision, I ‘obeyed’ her, and sat down. A big sigh of relief seemed to come from around me. I moved my chair in and everyone at the surrounding tables sat down and did the same.

Chantelle leaned down and whispered in my ear over the din…

“You are my personal guest this evening Roger. My guest always sits first. That is your privilege.”

“I see…”

“And Roger… Don’t help me to sit unless I ask you to.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude Chantelle,” I said.

“I know,” she winked, “let me get us some drinks.”

She nodded towards a waiter wearing the exact replica of what one would imagine a waiter would wear, apart from the lack of a shirt. I looked around and noticed the waiters were all male. I shook my head and smiled. As if the females wouldn’t be wearing shirts!

In moments we had drinks put down in front of us. Chantelle leaned forward and spoke across me.

“Claudio, be a dear and explain to Roger what is going on… I have to do my bit now.” She smiled at me and downed her drink before standing and making her way to the right side of the low stage. It was only about four feet high, and as she walked across in front of it, I heard rustling from behind me, Kurtköy Masaj Salonu and when I turned around, I saw almost half the audience standing.

I went to stand too and Claudio put his hand on my forearm and stopped me.

“Guests need not stand.”

I noticed he didn’t stand either.

“Oh…” I said, less than intelligently.

“The subs stand as a sign of respect when the Mistress of the establishment stands. Mind you, no one told them to do that. I can’t remember when it started. But they do it all the time now.”

“I see…” I said. I was still clueless. I mean, what the hell was a ‘sub’?

There was movement in the semi-darkness. Andrea was leading Josephine out from the side of the stage on a leash. They stopped in front of the large shadowy ‘X’ in centre stage. A spotlight came on over a microphone at the side of the stage, and my eyes were drawn to it.

Chantelle stepped into the beam of light, and the wall lighting in the hall dimmed. She slightly adjusted the microphone and took a sip of the new drink in her hand.

“Welcome members and guests. As we clearly have the best behaved subbies here tonight,” she smiled and shook her head, “I am going to provide an exhibition, and kindly Josephine has volunteered.”

Warm, soft applause and “oohh’s” and “aaahh’s” came from behind us. Claudio and I joined in, clapping quietly.

Three spotlights cut through the darkness and illuminated Josephine. Andrea had disappeared. Everyone quietly applauded again. The plentiful light aided me in identifying the shackles, wrist, and ankle cuffs that held her spread-eagled, and in place. She was facing the audience and her eyes darted around, squinting through the spotlights. She saw me and seemed to smile but it was hard to tell. She had a pink ball strapped into her mouth between her teeth.

She was covered from shoulder to mid-thigh in a thin, gauzy, light-blue material, which was almost see-through. The sight set my cock stirring in my pants. She kept looking at me too.

“St. Andrew’s Cross,” said Claudio.

“The big X?”


Music with a strong beat started. Andrea reappeared from the left of the stage, carrying a hot pink flogger across her hands. She kneeled down before Chantelle and bowed her head, raising the flogger up like an offering. Before taking the flogger in her hands, Chantelle shrugged the floor length, black silk dress she was wearing off her shoulders. It dropped to the floor in an inky puddle and she stepped out of it. A round of quiet applause and murmuring accompanied this startling event.

Chantelle stood proudly, dressed only in what appeared to be a quality set from Victoria’s Secret. Tight black French knickers hugged her ass and she was almost busting out of the black three-quarter cup bra she was wearing. She looked awesome and her body was better than I imagined it would be. The look was made complete by the shiny, black, knee-high boots she wore. Being up on the stage, and with the heels of the boots, she looked a foot taller than she was. She stood strongly and proudly, without even a hint of embarrassment. Her dark brown hair was up in a pony tail, and with a whip in her hand, Chantelle looked like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. She took the flogger from Andrea, who then scurried away. My cock stiffened further in my slacks.

Chantelle turned, facing Josephine on the cross. She raised the pink flogger in her hand and began swinging it through the air in a side-to-side motion. It was almost like she was watering the garden with a hose. She looked like she was in a trance. I watched her carefully.

The handle was held quite low, and perpendicular to the ground. The movements were laconic, almost lazy, or was it a timing thing? Either way, there was a kind of disinterest in the way Chantelle swung the small pink whip through the air. Like she was teasing Josephine. Close but not touching. The ‘swish swish swish’ of the flogger through the air became the only sound in the hall as the crowd settled and was all but silent.

I was getting uncomfortably hard and squirmed a little in my chair, rearranging my package. Claudio leaned into my ear and whispered.

“Watch Josephine, Roger.”

Josephine was actually arching up off the cross trying to reach the whip. I couldn’t believe it. Her fists were clenched and her body bowed in the middle as she strained to push her hips forward. My breath caught in my chest as I watched her watching Chantelle. Her eyes were ablaze with …something. Passion? No. Excitement? Maybe. Need? It couldn’t be. But that’s what seemed to fit best.


The ‘swish swish swish’ of the flogger became punctuated by a ‘snick’ sound as Chantelle made contact with Josephine’s mid-section. By my reckoning, it was a few inches above her pubic region. By raising or lowering her arm a similar distance, Chantelle began to ‘snick-flog’ Josephine from the top of her pussy, to just below her breasts. The way she was using the flogger tonight was different from the way she showed me in her office this afternoon. I was fascinated.

I looked around. Everyone was intently watching the scene. As I went from face to face I wondered if Chantelle or Josephine had their attention? I shook my head clear of all the questions I had, and turned back.

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