Chapter 1: I am Introduced to the Slipper Club

I am blessed, if that is the right word, with two daughters. They are the light of my life and I love them dearly but daughters, as many of you will know from your own experiences, are not the easiest of creatures to deal with. Of course, when they were young, they were adorable - cute as buttons - and even when they began to grow up I still thought they were the best things on this earth. Of course, as a mere male, I cannot fathom the female mind which seems to work in ways possibly not even understood by the Almighty so my role in their up-bringing was primarily to do the unpleasant jobs like giving rows or sorting out messes. How many times have I heard the words, "You'd better talk to your daughter, Gerry, she's..."? Still, as long as they said, "Yes, Daddy," at the appropriate times and give me lots of hugs and kisses and smiles, I was content.

I say I was content - in the past tense. Gemma, my older daughter is now sixteen, nearly seventeen. Now I know the teenage years are difficult for both teenagers and parents and I know that one of the main purposes of being a teenager is to push the boundaries but it seemed to me that Gemma was pushing things a bit too far. Curfews were regularly broken, she was not always where she was supposed to be, and I know I've smelled alcohol on her breath on more than one occasion. I also had a strong suspicion she was no longer a virgin. But what could I do? She and her mother were very close and Marion seemed very laid back about it all - far too laid back, I thought. If I made in issue of it she would say it was just a phase and Gemma would grow out of it in a year or two.

Perhaps she was right and it was just a phase, but Gemma had got to survive long enough to grow out of it and I was having grave doubts about whether that would happen. I didn't know much about her circle of friends. I'd seen a few of them once or twice and hadn't taken to them. I'm not really fond of body piercings, shaved heads, dark purple lipstick and the like but that doesn't mean I won't like the person. I liked to think I was reasonably tolerant and I remembered what I'd looked like when I was younger. It wasn't so much their looks I didn't take to, it was something about their manner, their attitude that made me feel uneasy. There was something about them that said, "trouble" in a loud voice.

I was saying something of the kind to Jack over a pint or two.

"Tell me, Jack," I sighed. "How do you do it? Your Hazel seems to be a such a well-behaved girl." Hazel was in the same class as Gemma although they weren't particularly friendly. In contrast to Gemma, Hazel seemed almost a model teenager.

Jack smiled enigmatically. "You just have to know how to handle them right," was all he said.

I would have pursued the matter but somebody asked about Albion's chances of winning the League and the inevitable heated debate developed. However, a few weeks later, after Gemma had, yet again, returned home an hour and a half after curfew, most definitely tiddly, and given me a mouthful of abuse, I was moaning again.

"I'm at my wits end, Jack. I really don't know what to do. And Marion's no help. She just thinks it's a phase and she'll grow out of it. But I'm seriously worried. It's not a phase. I don't know what sort of crowd she's running with but there's alcohol involved - possibly drugs, too, and, I suspect, sex. I really don't want her to end up in trouble, you know, with the police, or pregnant or something. And Connie's just as bad. She's fourteen and sees her big sister getting away with all this shit and thinks she can, too."

Jack was silent for a while, then said. "Look, at you free next Saturday evening?"

"I think so. Why?"

"I'd like to take you somewhere."

"Oh? Sounds mysterious. Do I know it?"

Although Jack and I were drinking buddies, we never really socialised outside the pub.

"I can't say any more right now. Come round to my place about half six."

I was intrigued. "Half six next Saturday. It's a date."

I mentioned to Marion that I was going out with Jack. She was as surprised as I.

"He was acting a bit mysterious," I said. "Wouldn't tell me anything about it at all."

"He's probably just going to get you pissed. You worry too much," she laughed.

I can't say I thought much about Jack's invitation through the week. The trials and tribulations of everyday life of pushed it to the back of my mind. However, I did start to speculate again on Saturday but it was idle speculation. I would find out soon enough.

I drove over to Jack's house and met him coming out with Hazel. "Perfect timing, Gerry. Park your car down the street and we'll be off."

"Is Hazel coming with us?" I asked, as we drove off.

Hazel giggled and Jack laughed. "Of course," he said.

"Is Mr Entworth going to join, too?" Hazel asked her dad. "That'd be way cool."

"I don't know, sweetheart. We'll just have to wait and see. Gerry doesn't know anything about where we're going, yet, so I'd rather you didn't ask any more questions."

"Cool," she said and settled back in her seat.

I was astounded. Neither Gemma nor Connie would have accepted such a mild request not to be nosy. They'd have pestered me, or anybody else, with questions and gone into the sulks if no answers were forthcoming. And why was Hazel here anyway? Where on earth were we going?

Where we were going was a nondescript building in a part of town that seemed to consist mainly of small factories and terraced houses. Jack drove up to a large door which opened into a large garage, nearly half full. There was a quite a mixture of cars from brand-new BMWs to old Fords. A small door in the garage wall proved to be a lift. It had one button which Hazel pressed. She seemed to be in a high state of excitement although she had not uttered a word since Jack had asked her to be quiet.

The lift doors opened onto a small hallway with several unmarked doors leading off. The door at the far end had a simple sign: "Slipper Club. Members only." Without pausing, Jack opened the door. Hazel darted past him with a "See you later."

"Gone to get changed," Jack said by way of explanation. "I'll need to sign you in."

We were in a sort of bar. It was a large, low-ceilinged room with L-shaped and semi-circular settees. They couldn't quite be called booths but they gave that impression. Quite a number were occupied. I quick look round suggested the majority of the occupants were men and teenage girls with half as many women and teenage boys. I was stuck by the fact that, despite the large number of kids, the noise level was low. They weren't racketing around or congregating in noisy groups. They seemed content to sit and chat, either with each other or with the adults.

"What is this place," I whispered to Jack.

"Patience, Gerry, patience."

He led me to the bar. It was a bar in name only for there were no beer pumps on the counter and no optics lining the back wall.

"Evening, Felix," he said to the bar tender.

"Good evening, Jack."

"This is Gerry Entworth. I think he might be a potential member."

"Welcome, Gerry," Felix said, leaning over to shake my hand. "Always glad to welcome new faces."

For a bartender Felix was a remarkably distinguished man - he had to be in his early fifties but was square shouldered, well muscled and unstooped. His handshake was firm to the point of being painful. His iron-grey hair was impeccably groomed, his white shirt definitely did not come from a chain-store and his bow-tie was real. He would not have looked out of place in a company boardroom.

"No alcohol," he responded to my unspoken question while Jack filled in the visitor's book. "No licence. Don't need one. Too many youngsters anyway. However I can do you fourteen varieties of fruit juice and twelve of fizzy pop. What can I get you?" I asked for an orange juice. "Where's Hazel," he asked Jack.

"Primping for her boyfriend, probably," Jack laughed.

"Well, he's mighty smitten."

"I have hopes," Jack said with a leer.

Felix laughed. "I never thought you were a social climber."

"I can dream."

"You're probably wondering what all this is about," Jack said as we settled in a quieter corner.

"Too bloody right," I exploded. "What the hell's going on here, Jack?"

"Please mind your language, Gerry. There are young people here."

"Sorry. But I feel like a goldfish that's been dropped in the sea. Just what is this place?"

He settled back. "Before I tell you, I'm going to tell you a personal story. In return I want your absolute promise that you'll keep what I say in strict confidence and you'll shut up and listen until I've finished? I'd be most upset if any of what I'm about to tell you got about. And I mean really upset."

His manner suggested he was totally serious. "Okay, Jack. You have my word. Strict confidence it is."

"Good." He smiled. "About two years ago Hazel got into serious trouble."

I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his hand. "I meant it. Not a word. By serious trouble I mean just that. She was going out with a lad of eighteen. Turns out he was a pusher. There was a raid and Hazel got busted. Fortunately she hadn't taken anything - I think the relationship was fairly recent - and with her family background, doing well at school, first offence, etc, etc, she got off with a warning."

"Jack, I'm sorry but I have to ask a question. How did this not become public?"

"Oh, it did. I was desperate. I had to do a lot of serious persuading and called up quite a number of favours to make sure that her name was kept out of it as much as possible. I was lucky because some political scandal blew up just after and Hazel got forgotten about." He drew a deep breath. "But I was worried, I can tell you. It had happened once and it could happen again. And next time it might be worse - Hazel might really be in trouble.

"Then I got a very strange phone call from someone who said that they'd heard about Hazel and would I be interested in meeting some people who were in a similar predicament." He grinned. "Of course, you can imagine what I thought. However, the guy was very persuasive so I agreed to meet him. It was Felix, of course. We spent a long time beating about the bush and he asked me all sorts of weird questions. Course they don't seem weird now but at the time they did. Well, the result was that Hazel and I joined the club and we haven't looked back since."

I was about to butt in again and ask just what the hell this club was when Hazel bounced up. My jaw hit the floor. She had changed into a pastiche of a school uniform: a short, black jersey skirt that barely covered her crotch and was so tight the cheeks of her bottom were clearly outlined, a white, short-sleeved blouse tied across her front to reveal her midriff, white over-the-knee socks and black pumps. Her dark hair was tied in bunches with red ribbons.

She noticed the expression on my face and giggled. "Like it, Mr Entworth?"

She gave a pirouette. From the way her breasts moved, she didn't have on a bra.

"Very nice, dear," said Jack, patting her bottom. "I think you've impressed Gerry. Is Henry here?"

"You bet."

"You'll knock him dead."

She giggled again. "That's the idea. Though why he should find a silly school uniform so exciting, I don't know."

"You'll have to ask Henry that."

"I did. He just got all embarrassed and inarticulate."

Jack laughed. "He would. Have a good time."

"Oh, I will. Are you taking part, Dad?"

"Not tonight, dear. Gerry and I are just going to watch."

"Okay. Bye Dad. Bye Mr Entworth. See you later."

And she dashed away, her young breasts bouncing.

"You can close your mouth, now, Gerry," he said with a grin. "And keep the questions."

"But... Hazel... Did you... ?" I spluttered.

He laughed at my discomfiture and patted my knee. "I said to keep the questions. Now where was I... ? Oh yes. Hazel and I joined the club. But first, what do you think of Hazel? A nice girl? Perfect daughter?" I nodded. "Would you have believed she'd been in trouble?" I shook my head. "It was this place that did it. What do you think of the name, by the way?"

"The name?" I was caught unawares by the change of topic.

"Yes, the 'Slipper Club'. What sort of image does it conjure up in your mind?"

"I don't know. Cinderella? Bedroom slippers? Sipping champagne from a lady's slipper?"

"Bedroom slippers is closest. Think carpet slippers."

"Carpet slippers? You mean the sort of things my dad used to wear?"

"Exactly."

"Funny sort of thing to name a club after."

He laughed. "What else were they used for?"

"I dunno. There's old jokes about dogs chewing them but that hardly seem right."

"Think way back. What would have happened to your dad if he'd been a naughty boy?"

"Well, he'd have been spanked..." a light began to glimmer though I could hardly believe it. "He'd have been spanked with..."

"You've got it," Jack laughed. "He'd have been put over his dad's knee and thrashed with a carpet slipper."

I shook my head in bewilderment. "I'm sorry, Jack. You're going have to spell it out for me. I can't get my head round this."

"You already have. This is a club where parents bring their wayward sons and daughters and give them the sound thrashing they deserve - in peace and without any fear of comeback. At least that's how it started out."

I looked at him in astonishment. "You mean you and Hazel... ?"

He nodded. "Once Felix had persuaded me that it was all legit, I brought Hazel along. Course I didn't tell her what was going to happen. That first night, I put her across my knee and gave her a right good spanking with a good old-fashioned carpet slipper. She wasn't too happy about it, I can tell you. Woo-hoo. You should have seen the tantrums and the tears. But I was firm and made it clear that, every fortnight, we would come down here and she'd get spanked and that it would go on until I was absolutely certain that she'd mended her ways."

"Good God."

"I practically had to drag her out of the house the next couple of times. She kicked up such a stink. I had to threaten her with even worse, like being caned, before she would come.

"But what about Donna?"

"Ah, yes. Well I concocted a story that I was taking her for lessons in self-discipline."

"She bought that?"

"Well I did lay it on a bit thick. And, anyway Donna was as worried as I was, really. So anything that improved the situation was all right by her."

"But didn't Hazel tell her what was going on?"

He paused. "That's the funny thing - she didn't. It never occurred to me before."

"So? What happened next?"

"Hmm? Oh, well it was very strange. After about the fourth or fifth visit, she stopped complaining. It almost seemed as she looked forward to coming. I couldn't fathom it at all. So in the end I just asked her outright. She went all red and flustered and didn't want to talk about it but in the end she said that, although the spanking was very sore, afterwards she got these funny feelings. She really got embarrassed at this point so I didn't push it.

"I did a bit of research into corporal punishment. I was flabbergasted to find out that some people found being spanked a turn-on. Couldn't understand it myself. The idea of a sore bottom making you randy seemed a bit, well, kinky, if you know what I mean?" I nodded. It did seem a bit odd. "Anyway I spoke to Felix who confirmed what I'd found out - that some people really get very turned on by it. He told me about Public Schools and how some men can't even get it up unless they've been caned."