Authors: Jennifer Jane Pope
There was a dance floor area in front of a raised stage, and although most of the patrons seemed to have things on their mind other than dancing, three pretty blonde girls emerged from the crowd clad in white leather boots and white leather briefs, feathered ornaments attached to their nipples, cat-like white masks on their faces and their hands caught up into fists inside tightly laced mitts. They were clearly someone's slaves and now they danced together, writhing forward and backward, circling and slithering around each other and sliding down onto their hands and knees. It was an impressive performance and I guessed they had to be professional dancers so supple did they seem and so perfectly in time with each other and the music did they remain.
Anne-Marie guided me forward towards the pillar nearest the left side of the stage, right at the edge of the dance floor. I leaned my weight slightly back against it, grateful to have something solid in this otherwise vaporous world of sound, smell and shimmering sights.
'We'll watch from here,' she said, speaking close to my left ear. The boots she wore were as high as my own - though the soles were not weighted like mine, she assured me - and so now she was once again able to come close to the level of my face even though I still towered over her and all but the tallest males in the place. It made me feel even more conspicuous than ever, for heads turned everywhere we passed and I could feel as many eyes upon me now as there were on the three blonde dancers.
'Carmen has organised a very special addition to the cabaret,' Anne-Marie informed me. 'Keep your eyes on the stage and you'll get a perfect view.'
The two Indian troopers came for her just after first light, binding her wrists roughly behind her back and dragging her out across the dusty parade ground to where the two lines of European soldiers stood ramrod straight in their fine red uniforms.
The young officer turned as Indira was thrown to her knees, an amused half smile flickering across his otherwise bland features. She glanced up at him once and then lowered her brown eyes, closing them so that she did not have to gaze upon her own nakedness and especially at the welt-striped mounds of her heavy breasts.
'This is part of the cargo that will accompany us to India, lads,' the lieutenant said, his reedy tones piercing the early morning air. 'Apparently she belonged to some nabob, but she escaped and hid away with some silly English wench and thought she'd become a lady's maid.'
There was a murmur of amusement among the ranks.
'We've been charged with taking the little brown hussy back to where she rightfully belongs, where they'll probably hang her, if they've got any sense. Her kind are nothing but trouble and they insinuate themselves among the weakest people, spreading their dirty foreign ways. This one, for instance, doesn't like men, wouldn't you know?'
The murmur of amusement became a much louder titter.
'Stick your vile tongue out girl and show these men. Quickly now, or I'll have the sergeant put you up and flog you again.'
Reluctantly, Indira extended her tongue to reveal the tiny gemstone adorning it.
'See that?' the officer cried. 'That's your pagan for you, and no mistaking. But what do you reckon she likes to do with her little ruby, eh? Why, she likes to put it into other women, would you believe?'
This time the soldiers laughed openly.
'Yes, this little heathen seeks to deprive us men of the love and respect of womankind. She used that little tongue of hers to deprave and corrupt a perfectly sweet and innocent English virgin, causing her to turn against her betrothed and all her family. Hanging's too good for her, I say!'
'Leave her with us for the day, sir,' came a voice from among the soldiers. 'We'll soon show her what she should be doing.'
'I dare say you shall, Corporal Barker, so I'll leave her in your charge. Just make sure she stays in one piece until we get to Bombay, otherwise it'll be you who gets put up for the flogging and I'll wield the cat myself, by God I will!'
Indira stared at the lines of men, the rough faces, the well-muscled bodies and the leering eyes. Better that they should hang her here and now, she thought, than subject her to what she knew she would suffer at the hands of these barbarians. The ship to India would take weeks, months even, and the voyage had yet to begin...
We didn't have long to wait. As the music began to fade, the lights over the dance floor dimmed and died and the stage lights came up. Then, from the wing nearest to our position, strode Carmen. She was clad now in a tight leopard-skin leotard, the long sleeves of which ended in claw-fingered gloves, and there was a tight shiny corselet belt about her waist that matched her spike-heeled calf-length boots. She was carrying a coiled whip, which suddenly snaked out over the heads of the three retreating blonde dancers with a resounding crack. Then she turned to face the crowd and a microphone rose on a stand from the front of the stage apron.
'Ladies and gentleman, good evening and welcome to
Sanctum!
'
There was a round of cheering and applause and the crowd that had been ringing the perimeter of the dance floor began pressing forward onto it, eager to find a good vantage point. I felt bodies pushing against me but my height, plus the additional advantage of my boots, meant my view remained unobstructed.
'As you all know,' Carmen began, 'our cabaret tonight includes many of our usual favourites, including Bella Donna, Lady Martina, Sir George and his Prancing Ponies, and our favourite drag queen, Fanny Gaslight.'
There was another ragged cheer.
Carmen smiled benignly. 'As ever, of course, we are open to all amateur talent and I think I can promise you one or two treats for later on. However, I thought I would start the proceedings tonight with a little treat of my own, a delicious little morsel of a girl with that little added factor so many of you appreciate.'
A wave of laughter greeted this remark.
'So, I shall waste no more time and give you Andrea, our very own little cockette!'
This time the applause was thunderous even though no one knew what was coming, and cheers rose from the crowd as the new star was pushed forward from the wings.
Of course, I wasn't surprised that it was our Andrea who appeared, but I
was
totally unprepared for the way in which she had been gotten up for her stage debut. Her face was its usual self, only made-up a little heavier, the foundation a little paler to emphasise the contrasts of her eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. From the top down she had been dressed completely in white - what there was of her costume, that is - but whether it was now correct to refer to her as feminine was a matter for debate. I saw that her neck had been braced with a posture collar not dissimilar to my own save for the colour and for the fact that it was made of leather as opposed to thick rubber. Her torso, from her neck to a point just above her navel, was clad in a tight top of stretchy white fabric through which it was possible to see two very large and very realistic looking nipples outlined at the tips of two extravagantly full breasts. These breasts were thrust into even greater prominence because her arms had been laced together behind her back within a single glove of white leather, her elbows nearly touching, her shoulders drawn back into what must have been a very uncomfortable position.
From head to waist, including the glittering green jewel now adorning her navel, Andrea was her feminine self, however, from there on down - if one discounted the white stockings and suspenders and the thigh-high white boots with their mandatory spiked heels - she presented a different aspect altogether and one which had me staring at her, wide-eyed. Of course, I've seen and even used such restraints since, but this was my first encounter with such a piece of clothing-come-equipment, so I shall describe it to you as it appeared to me then. It comprised a belt, from the front of which descended a triangular piece of white leather into which, at a strategic height and position, had been cut a circular hole around the edge of which, held there by tiny straps, ran a thick chrome-plated steel ring. Somehow or other, Carmen had succeeded in getting Andrea's cock and balls out through this ring, a feat which at the time I could scarcely credit, though having since learned a little more of the secrets of the male anatomy I know it can be achieved with the correct manipulation, a certain degree of care and no little amount of skill and patience. The triangle's apex, which pointed downwards, of course, was then drawn tightly by means of an attached leather strap that ran back up between the thighs and buttocks to where it cinched to the back of the belt, holding the whole thing snugly against the lower abdomen. Then, below the front opening, there was another thin strap, which had been buckled about the top of poor Andrea's scrotum so her balls were cramped inside the sac to the extent that the hairless flesh actually gleamed. As if this were not enough, and in Carmen's eyes it plainly was not, Andrea's cock was then held upright against the leather by means of several additional straps buckled tightly at brief intervals, the fourth and highest strap being tightened just behind the bulbous purple head.
I now know that such a restraint can be employed in two ways. One way is to stretch the semi-flaccid shaft and tighten the straps severely, which holds it apparently rigid and makes a full erection, as such, impossible, the blood flow generally succeeding only in swelling the head and top inch or two above the last strap. The second method is to first coax the erection and then employ the straps afterwards. I know of one mistress nowadays who, once she has fitted the main restraint, administers a dose of Viagra, or something similar, to her slave and awaits the inevitable result before using the straps. The slave's erection thus lasts for hours and the restraint has to remain on until the effects of the medication wear off, for it is impossible to retract cock and balls through that ringed opening whilst the former remains engorged. Back in the nineteen seventies there were no reliable medications of that kind, but there were other aphrodisiacs in herbal form and the correct stimulation at relevant intervals was enough to ensure that the slave's organ remained in the desired condition. Carmen, it seemed, preferred this method for she reached down and cupped Andrea's ball sack in one hand, squeezing it gently, and I saw her victim's eyes roll back at the contact.
'As you can see,' Carmen went on once the audience had had several seconds to take in the scene, 'Andrea is a hot little slut, but we have her well under control now. This naughty little thing,' she reached down with one finger to stroke the dark head where it bulged above the last strap, 'causes her to do really wicked things, but we've made sure it's going to be taught a proper lesson. Andrea can now satisfy only the gentlemen of the house; the ladies will have to seek other pleasures, I fear. So, if we can have some gentlemen volunteers, our little lady of the cock here will demonstrate what she can do with her pretty mouth, won't you Andrea, dear?'
I saw Andrea nodding as much as the high collar would allow and the pink flush spreading beneath the pale white make-up of her cheeks. Yet despite the blush, I seriously suspected she was enjoying this.
The first volunteer was not slow in coming forward, a tall, well built fellow in his late twenties, as far as I could tell from his face beneath the half mask that covered the upper portion of his features. He was dressed in boots and a sort of leather skirt with a chainmesh singlet and he wore heavy gauntlets on his hands. He pulled at his belt and the skirt or kilt fell away to reveal a cock that had itself been strapped into a form of restraint, although the straps of this particular device ran only about the base of his shaft and the top of his scrotum and clearly presented no obstacle to his quickly growing erection.
'On your knees, pretty slut,' Carmen commanded over the speaker system.
Andrea obeyed, sinking carefully down.
'Now show Master Toby what a good girl you're determined to become.'
And show him Andrea did, along with about a hundred-and-fifty other people, by opening her mouth and sucking him greedily into it. Her head bobbed so vigorously back and forth that Toby reached out his gauntleted hands to slow her actions.
Carmen intervened. 'No hands, Toby,' she admonished him. 'Only willpower is allowed here tonight, and the clock is running.'
I understood then that this was to be a sort of competition. Any man who wanted Andrea to suck him had to try to last as long as possible, and in that respect Toby did not set a very good marker. Within less than a minute I saw his eyes squeeze shut and his shoulders and arms go rigid. Andrea did not hesitate for a second and I shuddered, partly with the thrill of it, but partly in horror, as she drained him dry before releasing him.
All around us the audience broke into clapping and cheering again, but I guessed that most of their appreciation was for Andrea rather than Toby. Curiously, despite her stringent bondage and apparent helplessness, she had turned Toby into the victim, as she would turn several more men over the next half hour, or so.
The winner was a lanky fellow with a shaven head and tattoos all over his arms and his bare chest. He wore only a leather thong and high-heeled thigh-high boots, but there was nothing feminine about him apart from the spiked heels. Rather, he reminded me of a cruel pirate and his self-control was amazing. The last of the competitors, he easily surpassed the previous record of approximately seven minutes and still showed no sign of coming. Eventually, the crowd joined in a slow hand clapping in time with Andrea's bobbing head, and goodness knows how long this would have gone on had not Carmen stepped forward, seized the tattooed arm and raised it aloft.