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I had ceased to be human; I was Death, and the horse I rode was pale.The Golden Lion was a much larger building than I had expected. It rose two stori...s from the river bank, where several barges were tied up by a jetty. I could hear the sounds of a Bacchanalian orgy coming from what I took to be the main tavern on the ground floor. The upper floor appeared to be where the whores conducted their business, and was accessed by an exterior flight of wooden stairs from a side entrance.I led my horse. I imagined they had been coerced into this display of ritual public humiliation by their leather clad Masters and Mistresses. The heaving, semi-naked throng of people was an astonishing sight. But then this was a private fetish club and its members were not constrained by orthodox social conventions. I still felt chastened by the experience of trying to gain entry to Club Spank. It had been humiliating, explaining to a group of smirking doormen that I was one of Mistress Whiplash’s submissives.. More

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