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Evelyn is invited to join a very exclusive club, but she must first be interviewed by the admissions committee and explain why she deserves to be a part of SaM's very exclusive club. The series begins with her first night at the club and then progresses through the stories she tells the committee to prove she is worthy to become a permanent part of SaM's Club. The stories are better understood if you have read the previous chapters, but each chapter stands more or less on its own. Chapter one is a set up for the series and contains no explicit sex or other fun stuff like that.
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Part One
Chapter 1: The Invitation
Evelyn Fitzpatrick stopped her car in the entrance to the parking garage and slowly turned the business card in her hand. It was badly stained with coffee and torn nearly in two because she had torn it and thrown it into the trash when she took it out of her purse that night. But the barcode area was relatively clean and she could still read the neat printing beneath the coffee stain. So when the mechanical voice announced, "I'm sorry, this is a private club. If you are a member present your membership card and clearly speak your password," she held the card up to the screen and said, "Revenge."
The heavy gate swung inward and the mechanical voice said, "Welcome."
As Evelyn began to pull forward the voice added, "Please stop at the visitors check-in point on level one for verification." Ahead in the dim tunnel she could read a sign above the roadway that lit up with a message reading, "This way to level one." An arrow pointed to the left toward a ramp which descended into the darkness.
"Oh, well," thought Evelyn, "in for a penny, in for a pound," and she drove forward. As she followed the signs downward, she thought of the previous week at The Leather Rose when Sam approached her with what she thought was a cheap pickup line.
"Are you ready to move from amateur night to the real thing?" he had said as he handed her a business card with "SaM's Place" on its face in large, bold lettering. There was no address or phone number on the card, only a bar code beneath the lettering.
"This is a guest pass. I've written the address and password on the back. If you want to experience a weekend like you have never before dreamed of, be there next Friday night between eleven and eleven fifteen."
He stood silently as she ran her gaze up and down his body, obviously evaluating him and finding him lacking. "I run a very exclusive, very private little club," he said in a very business- like voice. "You have been highly recommended. But this is a one time invitation. Make sure you are on time. Don't get lost. Don't be late. Remember, one-time, you will never get this opportunity again."
He placed the card in her hand and disappeared into the crowd. She left the card on the bar as she stepped away with her drink in her hand, but the bartender called out to her, "Miss Fitzpatrick, you really don't want to lose this." He was holding up the card. "Most of the people here would give everything they have for one of these."
"How much did he pay you to say that!" she thought as she took the card from his hand and pushed it into her small purse. The next morning, as she cleaned out her "club purse" and put things into her business handbag, she tried to tear the card in two. It wouldn't tear all the way. Evidently it had some sort of metal or thick plastic embedded in the paper. So, she tossed it into the kitchen garbage with the rest of the night's debris from her purse..
At the office she casually asked one of her secretaries, whom she knew was in a D/s relationship as a top, "Have you ever heard of SaM's Place?"
"Only in legend," Marcie replied. "It is supposed to be some super-secret S&M club for the super rich or something like that. The waiters, waitresses, cooks, bartenders, everyone who serves you there are slaves - real slaves, not some pretend slaves on the weekends with nine-to- five jobs during the week. The story is that membership is by invitation only. And once you are in, if you tell anyone about the club, not only are you out, but you disappear... permanently." She dropped her voice to a whisper on her last word.
She then smiled brightly. "I don't know if it really exists or not, but I would love to have a chance to find out." After taking a sip from her coffee cup, she added with a sigh, "It might really exist, but I don't think I will ever know for sure, I'm not rich enough to qualify, and I doubt that Sam will ever hand me one of his special invitations." Then she laughed and turned back to her work.
Evelyn laughed along with Marcie, but internally her heart was racing. Just before lunch she made some sort of excuse and returned home before the maid could empty the trash in the kitchen. She rummaged through the garbage, and there beneath the coffee grounds from her morning coffee, she found the special invitation which Sam had given her the night before.
Her mind was suddenly brought back to the present as her car exited the tunnel into a brightly lit parking area. Raised curbing directed her to a small booth at which a uniformed guard sat sleepily watching several surveillance monitors and a small portable television. "Good evening, Miss Fitzpatrick", he said as she stopped at the small security gate. "Just park over there next to the wall and enter through the doorway into the elevator lobby. Your pass will open it. Sam is waiting for you."
Chapter 2: Inside the Club
Evelyn stepped into the short hallway behind the security door and found herself in a small lobby with an elevator on the far wall. Sam was waiting at the elevator door.
“Ah, Evelyn, right on time,” he said as he punched the up button. The elevator doors opened almost immediately and Evelyn began to step into the car. “Not yet, my dear,” said Sam as he held her back from entering the car. “This elevator is for a rather exclusive private restaurant located on the top floor. I own that also, but that is not where we are heading tonight.”
Then holding the door open with one hand, Sam stepped slightly into the car and swiped his key on the elevator pass reader. He pressed a button labeled “Street Level” and stepped back out of the car. The doors closed and the panel above the doors indicated that the car was indeed moving upward, but then the doors opened again and a totally different elevator car was revealed. This one was much more elegant and ornate and had padded leather panels rather than the stainless steel of the original car. It also had padded bench seats very much like a booth in a fine restaurant.
“Now,” indicated Sam and gestured for Evelyn to enter. He motioned for her to sit down, and again swiped his card in a reader. There were no buttons in this elevator car. The doors closed and Evelyn was slightly startled - and more than a little disoriented - as the car started to move sideways.
“Only a level five member can activate this transport system,” explained Sam. “It can be picked up at several different points around town.” He seated himself next to Evelyn and continued, “If things work out, you will be given a level one member’s pass and directions to the regular member’s entrance.”
The “elevator car” rumbled along like a subway for several minutes. Evelyn swayed back and forth as they rounded corners or changed elevation. She had no idea how far they had traveled or where they were in the city when the car finally stopped and the doors opened into a luxuriously appointed lobby such as you would find in the best hotels.
“That is the main member’s entrance,” Sam said, pointing to a set of doorways to his left. “The ride in that elevator is much less entertaining. It only goes up and down.” Then pointing to his right he added, “and this is the entrance to my club. Why don’t you buzz us in?”
There was a large white button embedded in the granite wall next to the door. Evelyn pressed it and immediately two previously hidden windows on either side of the doorway lit up revealing what looked like two store mannequins completely wrapped with white Christmas lights. Each was blindfolded and appeared to be held in place with a large steel support pole. Their hands were supported by chains which hung from the ceiling of the enclosure.
Evelyn gasped and said, “Oh,” as she realized that these were not mannequins but live, naked women, and the steel support pole was in fact impaling them in their ass. Bells hanging from their nipples rang loudly as the women shook and vibrated, in time with the electric current flowing through the flashing Christmas lights. Evidently they were a part of the electrical circuit.
Evelyn held her finger on the button as she smiled and watched the women writhe on their metal poles. “I think they have heard us,” laughed Sam as he gently pulled Evelyn’s hand away from the button. The door made a slight clicking sound and opened inward. Sam made a bowing gesture with his arm and said, “Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” He then laughed softly as Evelyn stepped through the doorway.
Inside, SaM’s Place looked almost like any other nightclub except that hanging from the ceiling was a track system of some sort which seemed to wind its way through all of the tables and open areas. It reminded Evelyn of pictures she had seen of meat packing plants because it was very much like the kind of track which was used in those places to hang sides of beef and roll them from one area of the plant to another.
A waitress hurried up to them and spoke to Sam. “Your usual visitor’s table, Sam?”
Evelyn could see that her impression of the track system was almost right. The waitress’s long hair was held high above her head like a circus performer hanging by her hair for a high rope act. The hair seemed to be braided together with a black rope or strap which was attached to a roller mechanism in the track. As the waitress moved, the mechanism rolled in the track above her. There didn’t seem to be a great deal of stress on her hair, so evidently it sensed her direction of movement and rolled with her under its own power. She was naked except for a wide leather collar around her neck and a very brief leather thong bikini. She was wearing six-inch stiletto heels which were strapped to her feet with long leather pieces that wound around her calves like a Roman soldier’s sandal straps.. Her nipples were pierced and from each hung a small, engraved metal tag. On the left nipple was a number - “#157.” On the right was a name - “Gloria.”
“Please be seated, Miss Fitzpatrick,” said Sam in his deep baritone voice. “I have some other business to attend to and will join you later. Please order whatever you wish. Tonight you are strictly my guest.” With that Sam bowed slightly and disappeared into the dimness of the club.
Chapter 3: Dinner and a Show
As Evelyn seated herself at the table, the waitress moved to the opposite side of the table and sank down on one knee. Her hands were held out stiffly behind her as though someone were holding her wrists. Her head was deeply bowed as she spoke, "Number one-fifty-seven begs your mistress's permission to serve her this evening. The menu is displayed on the small monitor on your table. You may order by touching the screen where it says order or by speaking to your worthless servant. The other small box on the table is a judgement box. If by some accident of total grace you decide that I have pleased you, please press the green button labeled 'Acceptable.' If my actions are not worthy of your notice or appraisal, please press the black button labeled 'Ignore.' If I displease you in any way and you feel that I should be punished, please press the red button labeled, 'Not Acceptable.' Any slave who receives a total of five Not Acceptable ratings in an evening will be publicly punished for the entertainment of the masters and mistresses present. You may address me by my number, '157,' or by my slave name, 'Gloria,' or just as 'slave.' Do you wish something to drink while you browse the menu?"
Evelyn smiled at the waitress' groveling form and replied, "Yes dear, I will have a glass of white wine, slightly chilled. Make it something acceptable."
The waitress responded, "Please remember to rate your lowly servant's performance of her duties," and scurried off into the darkness of the surrounding club. Evelyn noted that the mechanism which held her had somehow released cable to allow the waitress to kneel before her, but had again tightened to travel along above her after she stood and turned to leave. She wondered if this was all computer controlled or if there were some master control board where someone watched every move the servers made and controlled their electronic leashes from afar.
She watched the waitress's ass cheeks twist and bounce as she walked toward the bar at the far side of the club, her stiletto high heels clicking against the floor with each step. As her naked form blurred in the distant dimness, Evelyn turned her attention to the small metal box with three buttons. Her fingers at first rested upon the green "Acceptable" button, but then moved quickly to the red "Not Acceptable." She paused a minute and sighed slightly. The waitress, after all, had done nothing wrong, and even though Evelyn could easily imagine herself punishing this docile slave, she felt that it was wrong to cause her to be punished for no reason. Her fingers moved to the black "Ignore," button. As she pushed it she whispered, "Oh, my dear Gloria, we will find reason for the red button before the night is over, won't we?"
Evelyn then turned her attention to the menu. It took only a moment to scan the listed items. She was not particularly adventurous when it came to food. She knew she would be ordering steak. The only question was what kind. It would have been very easy to press the "Order This" button on the screen. The instructions said that further options would be listed when she made her selection. In any other setting, she would have been tempted to see how this electronic ordering system worked, but there was no thrill in telling a machine what to do. A machine had no feelings. A machine could not hear the haughty iciness of superiority that only a mistress could convey to a slave. No, Evelyn would wait to give her order verbally to #157.
Gloria - 157 returned moments later with a tray holding a single glass of white wine. "Has mistress made a decision? Or do you desire that I leave your presence and return shortly?"
"I will have number eleven, rare, with the salad... Balsamic vinegar dressing." As the waitress bowed deeply to her, Evelyn picked up her wine and took a sip. "I said slightly chilled, not COLD, you cow. Take this back and bring me wine at the proper temperature." As she spoke she dramatically punched the red "Not Acceptable" button.
The waitresses head flew upward, her eyes wide with fear. "I am sorry mistress. Your humble slave begs your forgiveness. Please allow me to try again to serve you properly." She quickly grabbed the glass from the table and holding the glass in one hand and the tray in the other clicked her way swiftly back to the bar.
Evelyn smiled as she again watched 157's ass cheeks twitch as she walked. "I wonder how those cheeks would twitch under the strap or a cane," she murmured to herself. Suddenly the image of the waitress tied down across a spanking bench came into her mind. She could see herself standing above the Gloria's bound form, a flogger in her hand, listening to the screams of pain. "Oh, I am going to need that wine by the time you get back," she said softly.
157 returned moments later. Somehow the waitress managed not to click so loudly with her heels as she approached as when she left. Evelyn noted the difference in her walk. As she approached, she walked normally, or as normally as one could wearing 6" heels. But as she left, she had used a model's walk. Each foot was placed directly in line in front of her. This catwalk way of walking accented the curvature of the leg as well as exaggerated the sway of the hips. "Did you think I would not notice that you did not walk properly as you approached me?"
Gloria's eyes widened in fear. "I am sorry, mistress. I was hurrying with your wine."
Evelyn's hand hovered above the judgement box. As 157 set the wineglass on the table, she pressed the red "Not Acceptable" button. Her hand remained over the buttons as she picked up the wine and brought it too her lips. 157 watched in fear as Evelyn took a sip and then slowly moved her finger from the red to the green button. As she pressed the black "Ignore" button she said coldly, "At least you got the temperature of the wine right, my dear. See that you get my food order correct and I just might rate you as acceptable."
157 bowed slightly, turned and clicked her way into the darkness. Evelyn smiled a very cold smile as she again watched the twitching buttocks and listened to the click of heels on the hard floor. She then turned her attention to the floor show at the other end of the club. Except for the fact that the piano player was chained to his piano and was sitting on a very strange looking piano stool, and the fact that the singer was naked except for nipple weights and a crotch chain, it was a rather ordinary lounge act.
The singing wasn't exceptionally good, but it wasn't exceptionally bad. Evelyn looked a little more carefully at the piano player and noted that what appeared to be a strange looking piano stool was, in fact, a metal disk not much bigger than a dinner plate. A glint of metal as the piano player turned slightly brought another cold smile to Evelyn's face as she realized that there was a metal projection, perhaps a dildo, impaling the piano player's ass. She couldn't help thinking to herself, "I wonder if the stool goes with him when he takes a break? Or maybe, since he is chained to the piano, he is forced to remain there all night without a break."
Almost as if the club had read her mind, the stage on which the piano and singer were located began to rotate. As it revolved, the piano player and singer were replaced by five naked young women and a very highly muscled young man who was wearing a pair of very tight, black leather shorts. "For your entertainment," an unknown voice intoned over the speakers, "we present the whipping skills of Master Andrew and his stable."
With that the house lights dimmed except for a spotlight on Master Andrew. The young man cracked his whip into the air and yelled, "To your positions." The five naked young women ran into the spotlight. Each was holding two burning candles. They stood in a circle around Master Andrew and held their arms outstretched with the candles in the air at shoulder level. The whip cracked and a candle went out. Then, as Andrew spun and lashed out with his whip, - crack, crack, crack, crack - the candles were snapped out one by one... except one. The slave with the strawberry blond hair had flinched as the whip cracked and lowered the candle slightly.
The smattering of applause died away as Master Andrew gestured to the other slaves to move aside. His stare was icy and his voice was even colder as he addressed the quivering young girl, "You have disgraced me in public by your actions. Stand still and receive your punishment." The girl whimpered but remained standing with her arms held out wide, the candles still in her hands.
"But first let me complete my task," - crack - and the final candle extinguished. "You don't need those anymore, " crack, crack and the candles flew from the girls hands. "Turn and form the whipping cross."
"No, please," the young slave begged, but the response from Master Andrew was a slash of the whip that obviously curled around the girl and struck her on the ass cheek.
"Now," he said, but again she begged, "No, please, not in public, not here!"
"I said now!" and the whip snapped again around her. She bent slightly in pain and then slowly turned her back to him, spreading her legs and holding her arms outstretched and spread as though she were tied between two posts.
"For ruining my performance!" - crack, crack, the whip found its mark on the slaves ass cheeks causing her to jump slightly with each impact.
"For talking back to me!" - crack, crack and the girl yelped as the whip curled around her body and struck her breasts. This second yelp was much louder than the first as the tip of the lash evidently found its target and snapped directly upon her nipple.
"And finally for disobeying my order to assume the punishment position!" The whip cracked a final time. "Iiieeee," the girl screamed in pain and fell to the floor, her hands covering her cunt. "Stand, or the punishment will be repeated." The girl slowly got back to her feet. There was a smear of blood on her hands. The whip had snapped between her legs and cut into her in her most tender area.
"Let us see if you can keep from flinching this time. If you flinch this time, you might lose more than a little blood. Prepare her!."
Master Andrew's other slaves came scurrying back into the spotlight. Two held the first girl's hands out in a cross shape and began clipping wooden clothes pins onto the tips of her fingers. When they had placed four on each hand, a third slave clipped two on her nose - one between the eyes and one on the tip of the nose. Then pulling her tongue out of her mouth she placed two clothes pins on it. A fourth slave stepped forward. Whatever it was in her hands was silvery and glinted in the light. The girl grunted as the nipple clamps were set in place. The clamps had a protrusion which stuck out about two inches. From the tip of the protrusion hung a tiny silver bell. A final slave then stepped forward. She held something aloft for the audience to see. It looked like the nipple clamps but was much wider. It looked almost like a smaller version of one of those clips which is used to seal a bag of chips to keep it fresh. Reaching down between the girl's legs, the slave set the clip in place. The girl moaned loudly. She tried to say something, but the clothes pins on her tongue prevented speech.
"Display yourself," barked Master Andrew. The girl slowly turned around so everyone could see her clearly. It became apparent that the final clip was clamped firmly on her labia.
"Now stand perfectly still." There was a drum roll and the whip cracked four times. The clothes pins flew from her left hand. Four more cracks and the pins were gone from her right hand. Master Andrew moved slowly around the edge of the stage area. He drew back his whip and with a loud snap the pin between her eyes was gone. Another snap and the pin on the end of her nose flew into the darkness. Then with a single snap the two clothes pins on her tongue were also gone.
"It's time for a little music," laughed Master Andrew. His whip lashed out, but it did not have it's normal loud crack. Instead, it was a much softer pop, and above the sound of the whip, you could hear the clear chime of a small bell. The whip flashed again and again as the bells on the nipple clamps and the labia clamp chimed their tune.
The audience applauded loudly. Master Andrew bowed deeply and then stood upright and suddenly made three quick snaps with his whip. This time the bells could not be heard over the crack of the whip, and the clamps flew into the darkness. What could be heard, however, was the girl's screams as the clamps were torn loose from her nipples and her labia.
Master Andrew bowed once more, the spotlight went dark, and the house lights came up to their normal level of muted dimness. As the Evelyn's eyes were once again able to see her surroundings, she noticed that 157 was standing beside her. The thought crossed Evelyn's mind that it must have been difficult to move about in the darkness during Master Andrew's performance, but then she remembered the track system. It didn't make any difference whether or not 157 could see anything. She would have been guided or at least dragged along the proper path by her hair as the motorized leash moved from place to place.
Evelyn tasted her salad and dropped her fork onto the table. "This is not Balsamic vinegar dressing. This is ordinary oil and vinegar. Did you think that I would not know the difference? Take it back."
Evelyn's finger poised above the "Not Acceptable" button. Gloria, 157, spoke, "Please Mistress, do not rank me unacceptable. I have already received three tonight. If I receive five, I will be punished."
"Is that so?" replied Evelyn. In that case, I will do this. I will rate you as "Not Acceptable" for bringing me the wrong salad. 157 hung her head. "And, I will rate you as "Not Acceptable" for not properly receiving and accepting the judgement of your superiors."
With that, Evelyn pressed the "Not Acceptable" button a second time. 157 began to cry, "No, no, no, no," but her cries were quickly drowned out by the sudden blaring of trumpets and flashing of red, blue and yellow rotating beacons.
"Masters and Mistresses," came the voice from the speakers. "We have a public punishment which needs to be meted out. There will be a slight delay in your service. Please pardon this interruption. We hope the inconvenience of this delay will be offset by the spectacle of SaM's Place's unique progressive paddle punishment."
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11.12.13
story continues in SaM's Place 2: A Punishment and a Demotion
o0o