Elise

'Su-li?'

'Of course -- she is a....flexible young woman, and her presence needn't prevent you from coming, if you understand.'

I understood.

He took my hand in his. 'Have you thought more about our last conversation?'

'I've thought about little else,' I replied truthfully. I had lain awake at nights wondering how it would feel to be whipped, to know the sensation of pain and pleasure, of agony and ecstasy, mingled as my lover struck me with his lash, knowing all the time that it was his love for me that drove him. I had masturbated myself to orgasm several times as I anticipated the moment.

'Then tomorrow I shall whip you, Elise,' he said quietly, 'Go now, I'm sure you need some sleep after your journey.'

Back in my room, I found Judith waiting for me. She had undressed and was wearing a white, fur-trimmed short nightdress which revealed more than it covered.

'Greg told me to go get some rest,' she said.

'Snap!' I replied, sliding the straps from my shoulders, so that my gown fell down over my hips and into a maroon pool around my feet, with a whisper of soft silk.

'Come on,' she said, 'let's go to bed.'

Mine was nearer, and we were soon in each other's arms. Nobody ever kissed me quite like Judith, and we spent an age exploring with our tongues, hands busy all the time, each probing, teasing, pinching gently at the other's clitoris, causing our juices to well up, and start to flow, until we could bear it no longer, and we flipped around until we could lap each other, in the manner we both loved, our studded tongues sliding the whole length of our slits, then, suddenly, plunging deep into hot, wet, eager, waiting, cunts. I came quickly, but Judith took a little longer, and I enjoyed watching her writhe and shudder as her creamy fluid seeped onto my tongue.

When we lay together, she asked me, 'Do you still love me?'

'Yes, darling, I do.'

'Even though you're going to let Sir Gordon whip you?'

'H...how did you know that?'

'I guessed, and so did Greg.'

So there were no secrets at the Eros Club, that much was clear.

Next morning, I awoke to find Judith spooning me from behind, a hand gently kneading my left breast, the other stroking through my unaccountably wet pussy, its thumb insinuating itself into my anus.

When she felt me stirring, she whispered, 'You're so wet, darling, you've been dreaming about that whip, haven't you?'

Not conscious of that, I turned and smiled at her, and we made love again, just like the night before. I knew that, whatever happened, my love for Judith was not going to go away.

Su-li was having breakfast when we got into the dining room, and while Judith was getting coffee, I said to her, 'I know you go to Sir Gordon's room sometimes, Su-li, but we don't need to be jealous of each other, do we?'

A slow smile crept across her pretty, delicate, Asian features. 'No.' Then she volunteered, 'Sir Gordon is busy this morning, preparing his room for this afternoon.'

For a moment, I didn't understand.

'For you,' she said,

'Ah!' I felt a sudden renewed nervousness. Just what had I let myself in for?

At lunch, an envelope was propped against my glass. A sheet of paper inside read:-

After you have rested, come to my room, at, say five o'clock, wearing only a black silk slip under your dress.

Of Sir Gordon, there was no sign, but I noticed that Su-li was also reading a message, and wondered if she was going to be present. I was trembling slightly as I made my way back to my room, where I was alone with my thoughts, as Judith was by the pool with Greg. But as soon as I lay down, images of Astrid's slender naked body, quivering in the throes of an orgasm, as Sarah whipped her viciously, came into my mind, and I calmed myself by masturbating gently, my fingers soon soaking with my flowing juices. I slept then, for perhaps an hour, and something -- perhaps some sort of inner clock -- awoke me at about a quarter to five.

Obediently, I donned a short black silk slip, and put on a long cotton print dress and stilettos. I took great care over my make-up, and plaited my long hair into a long rope, then, checking my appearance in the mirror, left to face my fate.

Sensing the need for formality, I knocked on Sir Gordon's door, and it was opened by Su-li. As I had suspected, she was to be present. She was dressed in a very tight, long black, semi-transparent sheath, and had her hair severely drawn up into a bun. She added to the theatricality of the scene, as the room was in semi-darkness, and some sort of quasi-religious music was playing. When my eyes became accustomed to the gloom, I saw that two sturdy columns had been installed about a metre from the farthest wall, and about a metre and a half apart. Steel rings were set into the opposing surfaces of each, at the bottoms, and about two metres up. I also noticed a bucket of water on the floor, with what appeared to be a handle projecting from the top of it. Of Sir Gordon there was no sign.

'You are to take off your dress,' said Su-li, 'and slide the straps of your slip off your shoulders.' I did as she said, while she went over to a credenza and returned with a box.

From it, she took leather wrist- and ankle-restraints, each with snap-links set firmly into steel rings fastened to them. She proceeded to fit them onto my wrists and ankles.

It was at that moment, when I was trembling anew with fear, that Sir Gordon finally put in an appearance.

'I'm so glad you came, my dear Elise,' he said, 'I know you have been looking forward to this moment as much as I have.' As he spoke, he lifted my arms and hooked my wrists into their rings, which stretched me to the limits of comfort. I had the sudden thought that he must have taken a good deal of trouble over the measurements of his installation.

'Secure her ankles,' he said to Su-li, who had difficulty bending so low in the tightness of her dress. I was spreadeagled, and had never felt so vulnerable.

When that was done, he walked around me, as if to inspect his handiwork.

My slip was still covering my breasts and belly, but he raised it to expose my buttocks, and stroked them gently, lovingly.

He spoke to me for the first time, his voice low and...and what?....passionate?

'I'm going to hurt you now, my dear, more than you realise, perhaps. I have soaked the whip in water so that it will sting more. You will know agony such as you can't imagine. Do you still want me to go ahead?'

'If it pleases you, Gordon,' I said.

He then ran his hand through my crack. 'You're wet through!' he said, 'you are really a slut, aren't you, Elise?'

'Yes, sir,' I replied -- it seemed the right way to reply.

'Sluts must be punished,' he said, 'isn't that right, Su-li?'

'Yes sir!'

I looked at him, knew I should be terrified, but then glanced around and saw something like awe on the pretty face of Su-li, and felt somehow serene, knowing that I challenged Sir Gordon.

He took the coiled leather whip, dripping, from the bucket, let it drop loose, then swished it through the air.

Without further delay, I heard the whistle of the lash through the still, warm air, then felt the sudden, terrible, agonising sting as it drew its red, dotted line across my buttocks, from side to side. I gasped, but managed not to yell out.

Before I had time to even consider what was happening to me, a second brutal stroke was on its way, and hurt worse than the first, falling across the fold at the tops of my thighs, the knotted tip of the thong snaking around and landing dangerously close to the outer folds of my labia, drawing a tiny speck of blood. This time I moaned, a distinct 'Oh' escaping my lips.

'Pull down her slip,' Sir Gordon told Su-li, 'I should like to mark her back. I think that would be very pretty.'

After she had obeyed, he came up behind me and stroked my pristine back, saying, 'You'd like that, wouldn't you, my dear?'

'Yes sir!' I heard myself say.

Again the whip flashed through the air, and again there was a 'crack' as it landed, just below my shoulder-blades, the tip just creeping around to the side of my left breast. I couldn't help crying out, but the next stroke, just a shade lower down, was much worse, and had me writhing in my bonds. He moved around now and, rather less forcefully, flogged my breasts, which burnt horribly, but I was now feeling something new, a sensation which somehow connected the pain with a kind of excitement, an ecstatic, totally foreign experience, that made me squirm even more in my bonds. I wanted desperately to touch myself, or to be touched, and when he lashed me again, this time across my sensitive stomach, I cried out, 'Oh, please, let me down, please, please!'

'Can't you take any more?' he said, scornfully.

'It's not that,' I gasped, 'I need you to fuck me!'

'Then you'll have to wait,' he said, and thrashed my buttocks and back twice more each, before telling Su-li to unfasten my bonds.

When she had done that, he dragged me by the rope that was my hair over to a couch, pushed me to the floor, and rammed his huge cock straight into my arsehole without preliminaries. Three or four huge thrusts, and he came in a huge flood, as my own orgasm came with a mighty and shuddering release.

Su-li helped me by easing a little cream into the welts that had risen on my sore body, saying they were only superficial. 'They'll only take a few days to heal,' she said, 'I know.'

'Oh?' I looked at her quizzically.

'Sure,' she said, 'I've been whipped too -- once or twice -- quite an experience, isn't it?'

I didn't reply. This was all getting a little hard to understand.

Back in my room, Judith was lounging on the bed, and obviously waiting for me. When I stripped off, she whistled softly. 'I suppose you're proud of that,' she said. I didn't know whether she was being sarcastic or serious.

Later, though, after a long silence, she said, 'I don't know, I really don't.'

'What, darling?'

'I was wondering what it was like, and if I should like to be whipped. It has a certain ........caché, you know.'

'If you must know,' I said, 'It was very thrilling. It hurts more than you could imagine, but I came while he was doing it (I couldn't bring myself to say "whipping me") and was desparate for him afterwards.'

Judith was shaking her head, scarcely believing my words. 'I don't know,' she said again, but I was picturing her, bound and helpless, moaning and screaming as the whip scored her lovely body -- the body I loved so much. The image was irresistible, erotic in the extreme, and I knew I wanted to see it brought to reality, sooner or later.

For the moment, though, Judith was fascinated by the marks of my own whipping, and insisted on soothing them with some balm she found in the bathroom, working it ever so gently up and down with her long, subtle, artist's fingers. It was a soporific sensation, and I was soon asleep in her arms.

I hadn't been asleep very long, though, when I awoke with a start, 'Shouldn't you be with Greg?' I asked.

'He's gone to the airport to pick up hookers.'

'What?' I laughed.

She explained. 'Four girls are coming in from Madrid on one flight, and two are due from Paris twenty minutes later. He's hoping to collect them all in the same busload.'

'But are they really hookers?'

'Apparently Greg himself recruited them. They were all working as high-class call-girls in swanky hotels. Make what you will of that. Fact is, Su-li says you will be their boss, Liz, although Astrid will be responsible for their day-to-day activities.'

'Well,' I mused, 'should be interesting.'

We were soon to find out. Half an hour later, the sound of the minivan drawing up was followed by much girlish giggling, and Judith and I stepped out in our robes, to find Astrid already there, severely clad in a black, laced-up, corset-style top, tight black skirt

and patent heels, greeting the newcomers. At a glance, two of the girls, stood slightly apart, looked French, whilst the ones from Madrid were a mixture, two apparently Eastern European, one very black African and the other probably Korean or something of the sort. They were all nicely, but informally dressed, and carried only hand baggage -- I imagined they would be dressed -- or undressed -- like we were.

Greg introduced us, saying, 'This is Miss Elise, your new boss.' It sounded very strange to my ears. They all seemed to some sort of a grasp of English, and were most polite -- not at all what I had expected of a bunch of hookers, but then my experience of whores was strictly limited. My two friends from my previous visit, Daphne and Maria, had also arrived, and came out to meet us, so that suddenly the girls outnumbered Greg by ten to one -- he retired, defeated, ten pairs of eyes following his shapely arse as he walked up the steps into the main building.

'Jesus, 'I'd like to fuck him,' said one of the Eastern European girls, who I later learned was called Yulia.

'I saw him first,' warned Judith, smiling, in the knowledge that she already had.

At dinner, I thought how sophisticated the newcomers looked, in their evening gowns -- not at all the streetwalkers I had expected -- and, talking to one of the very attractive Parisiennes, Jeanette, and to the Korean, who called herself Lily, they seemed like perfectly ordinary girls.

Sir Gordon called for silence after dinner, and announced that our first guests would be arriving the following afternoon. Greg and Astrid wanted to sit down with me after dinner to devise a final strategy, and put some finishing touches, though, 'We have, of course, an outline plan,' he said.

Greg chipped in, 'I'd like Judith to be present, too.' She was smiling.

It was, in the end, little more than an informal chat, and we were all happy with our respective roles when we went to bed that night.

The first guests arrived just after lunchtime next day, and it was fascinating to me to see what kind of people had booked holidays at the Eros Club. There were eight couples, the first to arrive a deeply unattractive pair from Birmingham, he gross and flabby, she stick-thin, with bad hair and worse teeth. It got much better after that -- two couples from the North of England were young and vital, as was a married pair of real swingers from Stockholm, who took my fancy -- and, I thought, that of Astrid, stood beside me at the time. Inge was on the dark and vivacious side for her race, whilst Knut was tall and very blond, and treated me, I thought, to a meaningful look. Next came a pair of Lesbians from Amsterdam, one a petite and delicate, doll-like brunette, the other a rather more robust, but still attractive redhead. A Parisian couple, slightly 'goth' in type, came next, then two London couples trooped in, as a foursome -- clearly used to sharing their pleasures with each other, by the looks of it.

As I attended to the couples, Daphne was attending to the people who had arrived singly, whilst Su-li and Maria were installing everyone in their rooms. Behind me, through a glass panel, I could see Judith deliberately bending over her massage table to show tantalising glimpses of the tops of her thighs, and that made me all the more aware of my own semi-nakedness under my translucent top and tiny, flared skirt. I was drawing appreciative looks from the guests checking in, as were my colleagues.

Ten single men were booked in, as well as two women travelling alone, and they were all in their respective rooms by six o'clock, so that we could go off and relax and leave the domestic staff to deal with the guest dining room.

There was excited anticipation at dinner, as we all realised that the first evening's entertainment was an important step to the success of the Eros Club's venture. A meeting had been called for all guests at nine o'clock, with free drinks, then a welcome party. It was decided that we should have a dance first, while Astrid talked to the two French girls about an erotic act they had apparently said they could put on. We thought that would get the week off to a good start, and, at the brief nine o'clock meeting, Greg announced that everyone should make their way to the 'Floral Hall' in half an hour or so, and that there would be a 'show' at eleven.

The Floral Hall was a huge converted warehouse, in which had been installed a dance-floor, covering about two thirds of the area, then a partitioned-off section sported a semi-circular stage, seating close-up, then tables with comfortable bench-seats behind. It had been tastefully decked out, as its name suggested, by a great many flowers and shrubs.

The dancing began right away, with Greg serving as DJ, and a topless Maria gyrating -- quite professionally, I thought -- in a gilded cage suspended above him. There were few people present at first -- they were obviously taking their time changing and getting ready for the evening after their journeys. But gradually they began to trickle in, and by half past ten, the dance-floor was well-filled. When Greg dimmed the lights, and played a slow number, some fairly obvious groping was taking place.

'It's going to be OK,' said Judith, standing between Greg and myself.

After a while, Greg brought the music to a halt, and a spotlight picked out the stage.

'Find a seat, now, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, 'our show is about to begin. If, at any point, our actresses wish for audience participation, it will be invited, otherwise, you are, of course, free to make your own entertainment.' There was a small laugh in his voice as he said this, leaving his audience in little doubt that there were few limits as to behaviour.

To the strains of a slow number I couldn't identify, the two Parisian girls walked on stage hand-in-hand. Jeanette was a shade taller than Yvette, and wore, like her colleague, our Club Eros uniform, the lilac long-sleeved blouse, and little flounced skirt over stockings. The only difference I could see was that they both wore a black strapless lacy bra under the blouse, which, if anything seemed more transparent than mine. They danced prettily, as if they had done it before, and stroked each other in time to the music, and, when the next number played, each deftly unclipped the other's bra, and pulled it swiftly through the small gap where the blouse buttoned down the back. They then began to caress each other's breasts in a manner even I was finding arousing.

The music changed again, this time for the famous Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg 'Je t'aime' and, in turn Yvette ran her hands up Jeanette's thighs, over her stocking-tops, past her bare flesh, and slowly pulled down her lace panties, then her colleague repeated the action for her friend. Smoothing their little silky skirts back down, the audience all now knew that their pussies were naked under the tiny skirts. Both girls stepped down from the stage and slowly made their way up between the seated audience, pausing to sit briefly in the lap of a man here and there, and bending to kiss him on the lips before leaving him, trailing a hand, as if accidentally across his lap, and smiling as they encountered the inevitable erection.

By now, one or two of the couples were starting to be affected by the act, and I could see the Parisian goth girl with her partner's long, thin prick cradled in her hand, whilst the Dutch lesbians were kissing avidly.

The two girls leapt lithely back onto the stage, where Astrid, clad in a tight black latex sheath, had placed a low couch, with the help of the Korean girl. Yvette, sat on the edge of the couch, and slowly parted her slim thighs, displaying her clean-shaven, pink pussy, adorned with a pair of small silver studs through her clitoris-hood. She toyed idly with its moist interior, as Jeanette came up behind her, leant over and kissed her wiith apparent passion, mouth-to-mouth, Then she squatted down beside Yvette, and eased the other girl's legs further apart, until her glistening, wet cunt was wide open for all to see. Necks craned in the audience, those at the periphery straining to get a better view, men and women alike, as Jeanette slowly, ever so slowly, inserted first one, then two, then three fingers, then, as Yvette let out a theatrical gasp, her whole hand, fisting her colleague's capacious cunt, driving her hand home, Yvette meantime fingering her clit, then throwing back her head in complete abandon, and screaming as she came, and squirted copiously, drenching those in the front row just before her.