Saving Sunni (31 page)

“Yes. I mean yes, Sir. I do still want to do this—but are you sure about these outfits?” Debi indicated the simple brown sack cloth shift each of us was wearing. “I mean, I’m not sure exactly what the scene is about, but…”

“Don’t worry, the outfit will be perfect. Do you remember the directions you were given about how to behave both in the club and in the scene?”

“I remember, Sir,” she answered nervously.

Sir looked from sage to me and waited for each of us to nod that we understood our parts. We gave a quick smile to each other and then to Debi, who still looked dubious.

“And you remember your safewords? ‘Yellow’ if you need things to slow down and give you time to adjust, and ‘red’ if you want the scene to stop immediately and for the evening.”

“Yes, I remember, Sir,” she said, a bit more confident than before.

“Good. Do not be afraid to use them if you need to. We will not be upset if you do. Are you sure this is what you want for your debut to the club and the community?”

“Yes. I’m nervous, but I think it will be fun. And memorable.” There was a smile in her voice.

“It will certainly be that, young lady. Well, let’s go, then.” He opened his door and got out of the car. He waited for us to join him and then led the way to the front door of The Keyhole, opened it, and held it for us.

Once we had shown the red and black, half-Persian chainmail key chains that were the membership key to the club and Debi had signed the required release forms, we went in. I saw Sir stop to greet Sir Matthew. They chatted for a minute, Sir laughing in the way that always sent pleasurable shivers down my spine. He looked over and signaled us to take Debi into the small coat room to wait for him. She had started to wander around, looking at the erotic art displayed on the wall, and she jumped as if she’d been shot when I touched her arm and motioned her to follow us into the small side room. She slunk guiltily in behind us, and I explained to her the protocol in entering the club. A submissive in our family was allowed to greet other submissives and respond to greetings from dominants. But we were careful about greeting dominants, who might observe a higher level of protocol than we did, and we did not wander off by ourselves without permission from Sir. Debi listened with a subdued air, and I put an arm around her.

“Don’t worry; it’s not that big of a deal,” I said encouragingly. “It’s just little things that establish the atmosphere that we all enjoy. There are people who don’t follow any protocols at all, and that’s fine. But Sir likes to maintain a certain level of formality, and sage and I enjoy the structure of it. Think of it as role-playing, not religion.”

A short time later we heard a quick knock at the door. It opened immediately and amy, Sir Matthew’s slave, entered the room. She was wearing the same type of sack dress we were. She smiled and winked at Debi.

“Ready, girls?”

We each nodded and Debi took a deep, nervous breath as we followed amy into the dungeon. Once in the room we could see that most of the regular dungeon equipment and furniture had been moved out of the central part of the play space. All that was left was an oversized wooden chair lit with a single spotlight. The rest of the room was hidden in deep shadows. Without any hesitation, amy walked toward the chair and we followed, stopping when we had reached the bright space in the middle of the room.

The three of us, who had only a vague idea of what was going on, jumped a little when amy whipped quickly around and took a step toward Debi. Screwing her face up in a comical expression, she demanded, “So wot kin’ a pervert air ya, dearie?” in one of the worst Cockney accents I had ever heard. We all leaned forward a little, trying to decipher what she had said.

“Excuse me?” Debi was both confused and alarmed at amy’s odd behavior.

“So wot kin’ a pervert air ya, dearie?” amy repeated, her atrocious accent a little clearer but still nearly impossible to puzzle out.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you are asking,” Debi whispered loudly, turning to me. She was obviously at a loss as to what was happening. I shrugged helplessly, trying not to giggle.

With a slightly exasperated manner, amy repeated herself, speaking clearly this time, as if she had just discovered that Debi was either slow or deaf. “So what kind of a pervert are you, my dear?”

“What? Why would you ask such a thing?” Debi stared at her in amazement for a moment. This was clearly not what she had been expecting.

With the heavy but horrible Cockney accent firmly back in place, amy said, “I don’t know. Master Smith told me to come in here and ask you that question. I didn’t expect a Kinky Inquisition.”

Suddenly the door to the dungeon flew open and banged against the wall, causing all four of us to jump and turn. Sir strode purposefully through the door dressed in a blood-red cardinal’s costume complete with hat, cassock, and oversized crucifix on a large gold chain about his neck. I did giggle when I saw that it was covered in sparkly rhinestones. He was followed closely by Sir Matthew, who was dressed identically except that he also wore a flannel bomber hat with fur ear flaps.

Sir looked around the room as he bellowed, “No one expects the Kinky Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise…surprise and fear…fear and surprise…Our two weapons are fear and surprise…and an amazing fashion sense…Our three”—he held up three fingers toward us—“weapons are fear, surprise, and an amazing fashion sense…and an almost fanatical devotion to naked women…Our four”—he held up four fingers in front of Debi’s stunned face—“no…amongst our weapons…Amongst our weaponry…are such elements as fear, surprise…Oh, I’ll come in again.”

Sir whipped around and with much pushing and shoving ushered Sir Matthew back out the door of the dungeon, banging it closed behind them. I heard a lot of muffled laughter coming from the shadows around the outside edges of the room and realized there were quite a few people watching our scene.

amy turned to Debi again and repeated loudly, “I didn’t expect a Kinky Inquisition.”

Once more the door to the dungeon slammed open and crashed into the wall, causing all of us to jump again. I felt silly; we should have known they were coming right back. Sir strode back across the floor to stand in front of Debi while he loudly said, “No one expects the Kinky Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as fear, surprise, an amazing fashion sense, an almost fanatical devotion to naked women, and spiffy red uniforms—Oh, damn!”

Again I could hear the sounds of numerous people trying hard to smother laughter. Sir turned to Sir Matthew and said, “I can’t say it. You’ll have to say it.”

Sir Matthew did an exaggerated double take with his head and squeaked, “What?”

Sir whirled to stand in front of Matthew, catching the oversized crucifix before it took out an eye as it swung, and planted his hands on his hips. In an exasperated tone he said, “You will have to say the bit about ‘Our chief weapons are…’”

Sir Matthew looked at Debi, then amy, and finally at sage and me before saying in a quavering tone, “I can’t do that.”

“Oh, hell,” Sir exploded, then hustled Sir Matthew back out the door. As they went, the people we still couldn’t see hiding in the shadows tried, mostly unsuccessfully, not to burst out in laughter.

Yawning, amy dusted her fingernails on the plain brown fabric of her peasant costume and said with a bored air, “I didn’t expect a Kinky Inquisition.”

This time we were all looking expectantly at the door. We were almost disappointed when it creaked open and Sir Matthew timidly peeked into the room before being pushed through the door by an impatient Sir. Matthew made his way hesitantly to where we were waiting and managed to croak, “Er…No one…um…”

Sir leaned forward and knocked his hat off his head when he bumped heads with Sir Matthew and prompted, “Expects.”

Sir Matthew started again. “Expects…No one expects the…um…the Kinky…um…”

As Sir came back upright, plopping his hat back on his head, he said in a loud stage whisper, “Inquisition.”

“I know, I know!” Sir Matthew frowned impatiently at him. He started again. “No one expects the Kinky Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect—”

Interrupting Sir Matthew, Sir continued in the fake whisper. “Our chief weapons are…”

Sir Matthew shook his head at Sir. “Our chief weapons are…um…er…”

“Surprise…” Sir rolled his eyes theatrically as he continued to feed his partner lines.

“Surprise and…” Sir Matthew continued in a faltering voice.

Shaking his head in disgust, Sir tapped Sir Matthew on the shoulder. “Okay, stop, stop right there. Phew! Ah!…Our chief weapons are surprise…blah, blah, blah.”

Sir turned to Debi. “I am Cardinal Rune and this is Cardinal Snaggletooth.” He indicated Sir Matthew, who looked around as if to see if someone else were standing behind him. He nodded at Debi, looking embarrassed.

“Cardinal Snaggletooth, read the charges,” Sir intoned.

Sir Matthew pulled a rolled piece of parchment from the billowing sleeve of his costume. With exaggerated care he unrolled the paper and read, “You are charged that you did on diverse dates commit heresy and unspeakable acts of perversion and naughtiness in defiance of the Holy Church. How do you plead?”

sage and I took our cue from Sir’s subtle hand signal to start circling Debi. We began chanting “Pervert!” and “Unclean!” while pointing at her and then shying away. sage was really getting into the whole thing and even threw in some booing and hissing for good measure. The people in the shadows didn’t even try and contain their laughter this time.

Again Sir Matthew intoned, “How do you plead, wench?”

Trying very hard not to join in the laughing, Debi answered as she had been instructed earlier. “I am innocent as the driven snow.”

Sir broke out with a diabolical laugh. “Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! We will soon get the truth from you. Cardinal Snaggletooth, secure her to the chair with the scary ribbon.”

Per our instructions, sage and I cowered back and shielded our faces with our hands and gasped in unison, “Oh no, not the scary ribbon!”

Again Sir let out a maniacal laugh and snarled, “Oh yes, the scary ribbon.”

Sir Matthew pushed Debi into the chair as the lights in the room slowly grew stronger. It revealed many of the members of the club sitting in folding chairs around the outside of the room watching the scene. With a flourish he pulled a roll of bright yellow caution tape from a hidden pocket in his costume. He held the roll up and received the expected chant of “Oh, no” from the crowd. Sir must have briefed everyone on the scene ahead of time to get them to play along so well.

Sir stepped in front of where Debi was sitting in the chair and in a sing-song voice demanded, “Confess!”

Debi just laughed. I couldn’t blame her. Sir did look pretty funny skulking back and forth in front of her repeating “Confess!” every few seconds.

Without warning, he suddenly swept up to her and grabbed a double handful of her simple, thin shift and violently ripped it apart. A loud tearing noise filled the unexpected silence that had dropped on the room, and she was completely exposed except for what the tiny black panties covered.

“Secure her, Cardinal Snaggletooth,” Sir instructed.

Sir Matthew had clearly done this task before because with an efficiency of movements he had bands of yellow caution tape strapping her upper body to the back of the chair and each arm trapped along the carved wooden arms of the chair with additional yellow bands of tape.

Sir went back to pacing in front of her and yelling in a comical voice, “Confess!” every other step.

He stopped and pointed straight at Debi. “Do you confess that you are a naughty pervert and have sinned before God and man? Or do we need to get even meaner?”

“You’re out of your mind,” she chuckled.

“Then you leave us no choice. Bring out the sticky goo,” Sir shrieked with a flourish of his hand.

sage and I screamed from opposite sides of the room, “Oh, no, Sir! Please! Not the sticky goo!”

“Yes! You have left us no choice but to use the sticky goo unless you confess your sins right now.” He leered at her, obviously hoping she wouldn’t confess.

“Never!” she cried in a strangled voice from the chair. I was concerned about her for a minute until I looked closer. I could see that she was trying desperately not to laugh.

Sir turned to Sir Matthew. “Cardinal Snaggletooth, apply the sticky goo!”

Sir Matthew used a comical, bent-kneed creep to a table and grabbed a sealed pot of liquid latex and a wide paint brush. Spinning around so that his ear flaps whipped out to the sides, he crept back to Debi, cackling maniacally the whole way. He circled her a few times, waggling his eyebrows at the crowd, who were enthusiastically booing him. Sir Matthew began trying to remove the seal on the latex but couldn’t get it open. He dropped the paintbrush and used both hands to struggle with the seal on the pot, jerking on the tab to no avail and causing another round of laughter from the watching members. With an impatient huff, Sir stalked over and roughly grabbed the pot from Sir Matthew’s fumbling fingers. In a guttural growl he mumbled, “It’s so hard to get good help in the Dark Ages.”

Sir pried the plastic seal off the pot and thrust it back into Sir Matthew’s hands before returning to his place in front of Debi, shaking his head in disgust. Sir Matthew shot an embarrassed smile at the crowd, stooped to pick up the brush and then resumed creeping around Debi. Giggling insanely, he began to slather the liquid latex across the top of her chest and the upper slopes of her breasts with the paint brush.