Audience Participation

AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION

Towards the outskirts of the city, away from the bright lights of the shopping streets, the landscape changed to industrial buildings; warehouses, offices, auto businesses. In one short side street that ended in a distribution depot, the street lights seemed even dimmer than on the main road, the pools of light from the two light standards at the entrance hardly reaching the anonymous building halfway down the cul-de-sac. During the day it looked like so many others, just another bland industrial enterprise with a loading dock to one side, and what looked like office windows on the upper floor, except that a sharp-eyed observer might notice it did not have the usual line-up of employee cars in front of it during the day, just one or two. This evening though, approaching midnight, there were cars, expensive marques amongst them, parked along both sides of the street as well as in front of that address.

Their occupants had arrived gradually and were discretely admitted, being met in the reception area by naked youths wearing only cock cages and opera masks, who offered drinks from trays suspended from their leather collars, and each guest group was then led into the theatre area and seated in their allocated seats. There were couples, some single men and women, and one group of three women who were dressed in full fetish gear and Doc Martins. Some were wearing clothing that would definitely not be called streetwear; see-through tops, rubber masks, latex opera gloves, patent fetish footwear. Some carried mysterious valises.

The warm space inside was massive and had the ambience of an engineering workshop that had been converted, with exposed trusses In the metal roof and steel pillars spaced along the centre arch. There were even two industrial hoists mounted high on a gantry beam, but they were not being used tonight. The audience area along one side was dark, currently lit only by a number of unusual objects strategically-placed around the space. There was a glass skull on one shelf, a glowing fist on another, and several massive translucent dildoes and buttplugs that were actually internally-lit lamps.

In the centre of the room, on either side of a low wooden dais, were two chandeliered candle holders mounted on columns with heavy tripod bases. A small host of candles on each of them were providing most of the light in the venue, save for two pink spotlights, one of which was down-lighting a St Andrew’s Cross sited at an angle to the audience, allowing them the perfect view of whatever would transpire on that station. As dungeon furniture, the cross was a work of art. The flat extensions were of varnished oak, and curved, so the whole structure looked like two “U”s inverted against each other. There was a padded rectangular panel of the same oak in the centre, clad in black leather, and a number of strong eye-rings strategically positioned.

The other pink beam lit a black curtain that looked as if it covered a frame, perhaps a cover over a tall birdcage, that was positioned on the dais floor further from the audience and over to the left, so it essentially was in the near background, providing a backdrop to this piece of BDSM theatre.

Every wall of the venue was covered in BDSM equipment; a collection of whips, crops and floggers of every type. Helmets and hoods, ropes and chains, medical equipment, pumps, dildos; it was too much to take in. This was the domain of the celebrated Madame Violette, and these people were members of her Inner Circle, sophisticated kinksters known to her who were prepared to pay for this type of performance.

For there was a twist to the soirée that made it even more special and unique. The audience chairs were seemingly arranged in groupings that reflected who would be sitting there. There were no rows, the audience being spread in a shallow arc around the stage. Most of the chairs were in side-by-side pairings, which were gradually occupied by the couples. The three goth girls were over to one side, facing the St Andrews Cross, and closest to the ‘birdcage’. Several people who had come alone were interspaced with the couples.

Once all the audience had arrived and were seated there was a low level of chatter and laughter from those who obviously knew each other. The young men moved amongst them, refilling empty glasses of champagne.

Suddenly a hush descended on the group. Mistress Violette herself walked slowly into the light and stepped up on the stage, smiling and embracing the crowd with both arms outstretched. She was magnificently attired in red leather, the narrow buckled bustier accentuating her hourglass figure. Red fishnet hose and scarlet patent fetish boots completed the ensemble. Her sex was bare, a deep ravine showing between her plump labia and generous mound. Her raven hair was drawn back into a tight ponytail, with a sheen in the lights. Her face would not be said to be pretty, that would be too trite a word. Her strong features spoke to her nature; the heavy eyebrows, the high cheekbones, and the mouth adorned in crimson black lipstick.

She looked exotic, she looked dominant, she looked cruel.

“Good evening, my dear friends. I hope that tonight’s entertainment will live up to our previous soirées. I have something novel planned for you all. Let me bring in the first part of our performance. This submissive has agreed to leave his safeword at home for your amusement…..,” she grinned as the audience murmured in approval, “….so give me a moment and we’ll be back.”

She disappeared and soon returned leading a hooded male on a leash. He was stocky and totally naked except for a wide collar holding the hood on securely, and a large black cock cage. All the guests could see his excellent physique, his ripped abdominal muscles, and his arms and legs bearing well-developed musculature. His body was clean-shaven and his skin gleamed with oil. His drooping nipples bore heavy rings.

His arms were handcuffed behind his back, his ankles bore leather cuffs already fitted with a short chain connecting them, and the hood evidently afforded him little or no vision, because his footsteps were tentative, responding clumsily to her repeated tugging. His head turned towards the audience at their polite applause, then quickly returned to manage the step up on the dais under her instructions. Mistress Violette brought him to the wooden cross, turned him, and kicked his insteps rudely to command him to spread his legs until the chain was taut. She flicked her fingers, and two of the youths stepped up, and each fixed an ankle wide apart with chains, so they could neither widen nor close.

Once they had him fixed in place, the mistress uncoupled the handcuffs and drew his wrists behind the intersection point of the cross. Taking a length of rope, she expertly wrapped coils around his wrists and forearms until his arms were tightly drawn behind him, the wraps extending most of the way to his elbows.

“Belts.”

The youths reappeared carrying a number of black leather belts. Belt by belt, the submissive was strapped securely to the wooden frame; around his shoulders, his stomach, around his pelvis, and finally one was wrapped around each of his knees and winched tight until he was positioned slightly bow-legged.

“Look down.” Her command resonated around the stage.

The sub obediently dropped his head, and she looped another short length of cording through a D-ring on the top of the hood. It only needed a glance to one of her attendants for him to step forwards and thread the cord through a small ring high on the cross, then across to the matching ring, then dropped the cord back down near to her subject’s hood. Taking the cord, she quickly created a sliding knot, winched it up until his head was forced upright, and fixed it with a hitch. The attendant was waiting with a large red ball gag, which was forced into his mouth without ceremony and while Violette held it in with a firm palm, the attendant moved behind and fastened the strap.

The audience were silent, following this process with rapt attention. They could see there was almost no opportunity for the male to move. As if reading their thoughts, Madame planted a heavy punch into his abdomen with no warning. The man grunted in pain, but he could not budge, even though he had tried to double up. She tweaked the rings in his nipples in a teasing manner, then turned towards her audience.

“There. All ready on this station. Now let me introduce you to our other performer.”

The mistress moved across to the back of the stage and whipped the black cloth away with a flourish. There were gasps of surprise, for she had revealed a female submissive who had been waiting in bondage. Like the man, she was naked apart from a collar, but she was not hooded, and her apprehensive eyes blinked as she tried to make out the guests in the gloom beyond the candles lighting the stage. Her legs were cuffed apart with a spreader bar, and a vertical metal pole fixed at the centre of the bar rose to where a thick black dildo disappeared between her legs.

The girl was petite, with somewhat large breasts for her small frame. Both arms and her belly bore tattoos, and heavy eyeliner gave her a rather exotic look. There was a silver ring in her nose, and several more on her labia, splayed around the stout metal column impaling her sex. Her wrists were fixed together above her head, making her completely helpless. She was contained in a metal grill shaped in a half circle, so it did indeed look like a birdcage, and once Mistress Violette had revealed her slave girl, she swung the grill open like a door and stood beside it.

“Here we have our second performer for your amusement. This lovely slave will provide a counterpoint to our male slave across the way, and I will be switching from one to the other, hopefully building the intensity as we progress through the performance. She may provide the soundtrack to the performance, we’ll see.”