Chapter 4: Club Regina

Catherine Chee was enjoying her evening. She came to Club Regina a couple of times a week. It was one of the many establishments catering to an exclusively female clientele that had sprung up since New Order had come to power and it gave her chance to relax after work.

Bars and restaurants were thriving on the back of the new economics of female purchasing power. There were plenty of places offering somewhere to take a drink, meet up with friends, listen to music or eat a meal. Some had luxurious spa facilities, some boasted classy food or specialised in live music or exotic cocktails. There were venues for every taste as long as you had money and these days most women did. Club Regina, however, existed to satisfy a particular set of enthusiasms that Catherine subscribed to; ones that been very much legitimised by the new social order which legitimised any woman that had a taste for dominating males for sexual pleasure.

The day had been a difficult one for Catherine. Her latest project was proving difficult to get going with. Club Regina offered the opportunity to put those concerns to one side for a while at least.

Catherine was proud of her Chinese heritage. She rarely wore western fashions, much preferring the sensuous lines of a silk qipao like the dramatic one in black silk edged with crimson that she had chosen for today. She chose her make up to accentuate her Asiatic features and cultivated an aloof air as the personification of what she considered to be the superiority of Chinese culture. It was an attitude that had been handed down by her mother, together with a lasting dislike of western males for the condescending, snobbish and racist way the ex-pat community had treated her family in Hong Kong, before they had moved to the UK. She found delight in exploiting the current climate that allowed, even encouraged, the degradation and humiliation of men. The chance to have examples of the western, self-satisfied, male sex kow-towing to her in front of others was too good to ignore and the club provided a convenient environment in which to indulge herself.

As usual, she started in the bar. A table for one on the edge of the room, well away from the small stage where there were occasional displays of punishment or humiliation, was her preferred spot. The room’s hostess, Natalie, a Rubenesque girl in leather corsetry that seemed barely able to contain the flesh within, appeared by her side with a menu card. Catherine knew what she wanted but she took the card anyway and looked at it briefly.

“Your usual, Miss?” the hostess enquired.

Catherine nodded. “Thank you, that would be ideal. And a Bloody Mary, please.”

The hostess nodded. “Of course,” she said and left Catherine to watch the comings and goings in the club room. It was early and there were only half a dozen women there besides herself.

A few moments later the hostess reappeared with an almost naked man in tow on a leash connected to the metal cage that was locked around his genitals. He wore a face-concealing leather hood and was silenced with a ball-gag that, Catherine noted with satisfaction, distended his jaw in a painful looking fashion. Exactly as she had ordered, Catherine thought.

She sat back on the couch, sprawling comfortably in a way that seemed casual but was calculated to allow the slit of her qipao’s skirt to reveal the length of her thigh. The way the man turned his masked face told Catherine that he had seen and appreciated her pose.

The man’s wrists were cuffed, a short length of chain linked them. He carried a small tray with Catherine’s chosen drink. It wasn’t easy. His restraints left him feeling he was about to drop the tray at any moment. At a snap of the fingers from the hostess, he dropped obediently to his knees alongside her.

It was one of the reasons she kept on returning to the Regina, Catherine thought. They did this so well.

She had always had a dominant streak. At school, her nickname had been “Chee Who Must Be Obeyed”. She had felt teased at the time but now she embraced her dominant nature with enthusiasm. The club provided her with the opportunity to indulge herself.

“Can I get you anything else?” the hostess enquired.

“This will be fine for now, thank you,” Catherine responded.

As the hostess left, Catherine picked up her drink took a sip and replaced it on the tray. The man continued to kneel motionless. Catherine took a sip of her drink. The cares of the day were already slipping away. In her handbag on the floor near her feet, her phone bleeped, signalling an incoming call. She reached down and picked it up to answer the call.

“Becky! Hi! Yes, good to hear from you. Me? Oh, fine. Nothing much. Over at Regina’s. Just chilling out, really.”

The conversation went on. The naked slave stayed motionless beside her with Catherine seeming to take no notice of him. With only half her mind on it, she reached across to pinch and squeeze at one of his nipples, carrying on her conversation. The man whimpered. Catherine brought her hand up sharply to slap his face, irritated by the interruption. She looked back into his face. Mirrored lenses over his eyes hid any expression even from that close but from his posture Catherine could sense that he was staring out devotedly from behind his mask. He was obviously content with his position in life.