Chapter 8
THE GALA
Author's note: Ideally, the previous chapters in this story should be read prior to reading this. Although this chapter could stand alone, it—as well as the upcoming chapters of the story—will be more meaningful if put in the complete context.
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Suzie and I were in the back seat of our best friends Bob and Julia's car on the way to the Second Annual Gala at The Mill. It was a charity affair put on by the Mill Club, a BDSM organization, of which Bob was one of the founders. Suzie and I were new to all of this and didn't know if we wanted to pursue the path toward domination and submission. So far we'd only dabbled in a little bondage.
The trip to the Mill would be about fifteen minutes on a rural road outside of Millville. On the way there Bob explained a little about the Gala.
"Let me explain a little about tonight's entertainment. About a month ago every member received a volunteer application and questionnaire to recruit participants for tonight's events. Besides the willingness to participate, this is what was required. They must be either a sub or switch. Must be OK to interact with multiple people of different genders. Must be OK with golden showers. Must be willing and able to be bound for at least one hour. Must not be claustrophobic. For females, must not be having a period on the day of the Gala.
"I think that's all. From the list of volunteers, the committee of three members—they had to include one male, one female, one dom, one sub, and one gay or lesbian—selected six. Three men and three women. Only two of each will be used tonight, but nobody, including the volunteers, knows who. Their identities and what they will be doing have been a closely guarded secret. Only the three committee members, who also planned the entertainment, know. Like the Price-Waterhouse envelopes at the Oscars. The rest you'll see for yourselves a little later."
Suzie said, "Sounds pretty well planned. You've really piqued my interest now. I can hardly wait."
"Yeh. Me too," I concurred.
We arrived at the old sawmill, now named just "The Mill". Its only identification was its name printed in letters carved from wood and mounted over the main door. The building itself didn't look much different than it had when it was still a working mill, over twenty years before. From the outside one would never guess that it was a clubhouse of sorts. Once inside, Bob led us over to the registration counter where an attractive, middle aged woman was working. He handed all four of our $500 tickets to her and told her our names. She already knew him and Julie, of course. "These are our guests, Tom and Suzie. This young lady is Millie," he said to us, gesturing toward her.
Only first names. Even at the Gala.
Millie went down her list until she found all of us. I thought that there must be more than one Bob or Tom, but she seemed to know whom to check off. Bob led us from the entry room into a very large hall where many round tables were set up, complete with white table cloths, fancy dishes and glasses, and flowers. Each table had a card with eight people's names. Bob found our table and—since nobody else was there yet—suggested that we all sit facing the front of the room. In front of us was a podium and a long table on a raised platform. The table had six place settings on a tablecloth that only reached the edge of the table.
That's strange,
I thought.
Suzie and I perused the room, looking at all the other folks. I spotted Leila and Len from the Munch meeting. When they saw us they gave a wave. Suzie said, "I really liked them. We should get together with them sometime."
"Good idea. Let's do that," I replied.
I thought I saw Frank Grause, one of the councilmen of Millville. I asked Bob if that was who he was and he confirmed it, but reminded me that here he's just "Frank" and not to mention his position or his last name to anyone. I asked Bob if the empty table in the front was for the club officers.
"No, Tom. Wait a few minutes. You'll see."
Now it seemed even stranger. I turned to Suzie. "What do you think, Babe?"
"Don't know yet. Seems like any other banquet I've ever been to. Except for that empty table up front. It's set for dinner, but no table cloth. If it's for guests of honor you'd think they would give them a table cloth."
"Actually there is a table cloth. It's just folded so it doesn't hang over the edge. I asked Bob about it and he just said to wait and see."
Just then a gentleman approached the podium. Bob whispered to me, "That's the president of The Club."
He waited for the crowd to quiet down, and then said, "Hi, everyone. For those newcomers who don't know me, I'm this year's president of The Mill Club. My name is Devon. I want to welcome you to this year's Gala event, our annual fundraiser for charity. You all paid a lot to be here tonight, but not to listen to me speak. So we'll get right to our fabulous banquet we have prepared for you. But first, let's bring in the participants in tonight's entertainment. These six members have volunteered their time and their bodies to help provide the rest of us with some provocative scenes. Only four will be involved and none of them knows who they are, or what they will be subjected to. They will only find out when the rest of you do. Now, Mr. Dungeon Master, please bring our six subs in and seat them so they can also enjoy the feast we're about to be served."
As the president was speaking, six waiters came out from the kitchen and stood behind the chairs at the head table. Now a second door opened and a gentlemen wearing a red vest came out. Bob whispered to me that he was the dungeon master. He was holding the end of a chain, the other end of which was attached to the left wrist of the man following him.
Suzie let out a loud gasp. "Oh my God! He's naked," she said in a voice that everyone could hear. This provoked laughter throughout the room. He was indeed naked save for a hood covering the top of his head and down over the nose. There were holes for the eyes. That first sub's right hand was attached to the left hand of the woman following him. These connections continued until all six subs, alternating men and women, were at their places at their table. The waiters had pulled out their chairs as they entered and now gently pushed the chairs in until all six were comfortably seated, connected by their wrists.
The dungeon master then walked down the two stairs from the platform and stood in front of the subs. I noticed as they walked into the room that they each had a black leather cuff just above their knees. The dungeon master started at the end of the table, attaching the outside knee of the sub to the edge of the table, pulling it to the side of the sub. He then went down the row, attaching each sub's knee to that of the one seated beside him. When he was finished he stood aside and faced the crowd.
The president, from his podium, said, "Let's give a hand to our dungeon master for this evening, Lloyd. Most of you know him. He's been in the club since its inception." There was some polite clapping from most of the people in the room. "And now, please, folks, let's hear it for these six subs, who don't know what they'll be facing later on, but who willingly put themselves on the line for this good cause that we support." Now there was loud cheering and whistling. Everyone truly appreciated what these six men and women were willing to endure.
"Now. Let's eat. The waiters, all members who paid to be here just like all of you, offered to do the serving tonight. As you know, we can't allow the caterer's staff to see our activities. They come from Knoxville and are not aware of the nature of The Mill Club. Bring it on, boys."
As the waiters served everyone their meals, starting with a lobster bisque, I looked at the table in front where the six subs for the evening sat facing us, legs spread wide, their genitalia exposed for all to see. I glanced at Suzie next to me. She, too, was staring.
