What do you want? At Sodom everyone knows what you want – or what you think you want – it’s why you’re all there. Still, you don’t always get it. Chances are pretty high, instead, that you’ll get what you need.
The evening wasn’t going quite as Linus had planned. True, Caroline had looked good enough to fuck, all wide-eyed in her cage; and sliding that heavy metal plug into her arse beforehand had made his cock hard and wanting. But knowing that the person who’d stopped by the cage to talk to her was the owner of Sodom – the Doyenne – someone he’d never seen in all his visits, was somewhat disconcerting. Why now? Why her? Was it a good sign?
The Doyenne had reasons for everything. Even impulsive moves had reasons behind the impulse, and they were considered before that impulse was acted upon. Greeting Caroline had been one such impulse – and going to shake up Arthur would be another.
It was that kind of night.
What happens at Sodom? It seems like a simple answer – and yet it isn’t. Those for whom it is a myth have one story. Those who attend have another. And for those who work there? What happens at Sodom is different for each of them.
Perception is a fascinating thing.
All kinks are welcome in Sodom. While the focus of the club is on all things anal, the Doyenne enjoys inviting a variety of guests whose desires and fetishes keep things … interesting.
Trotting across the main floor of Sodom, his head held high, Stanis was focused predominately on pleasing his trainer. When he was in pony-space, Anneke was always first and foremost in his thoughts, and that was as it should be. She held the lead, and he had given her his pony-soul long ago. But his brain could never turn off the multi-tasking, and so he was also aware of how his tail swished against the back of his knees, how his buttocks clenched around the large silicone plug with every step he took, and the delightful clack that his metal hoofs made against the floor. As he moved toward the bar, he also noticed his teeth pressing against the rubber bit in his mouth, the sweat pooling inside the latex costuming his thighs, the press of his harness against his groin. For the most part, though, he was aware of Anneke, and of the eyes on him.
The doors to Sodom open once a week. But an invitation, once received, isn’t for keeps – it is for one night only. Attendance isn’t mandatory; you under no obligation to be there. But entering those discreet doors once is no guarantee you will ever enter again. And receiving a heavy vellum envelope one week does not mean you’ll get one for the next.
There is no obvious rhyme or reason why some guests are invited week after week; while others only sporadically. Why some come through the doors once in a very great while and yet others visit once and then never again.
Atmosphere is everything. It doesn’t matter how carefully selected the guests; how discreet the location. Sodom is designed to be the fantasy – which means providing not only the rooms and implements to fulfil deviant desires, but also the ambience.
Sodom exists to create works of ecstatic art. But also to share them.
There are hidden depths to Sodom. Places that visitors will never know exists, let alone visit. Where else can the owner and the staff do their jobs, let alone relax when the club is closed?
One place is hidden in plain sight. A slim door marked ‘Supplies’ between two bathrooms, perpetually seen padlocked. If anyone thinks of it at all, it’s to assume it has the usual – a mop and bucket, some cleaner, some loo paper. Instead, it has something much more interesting tucked inside…
The owner of Sodom values privacy highly. The staff of Sodom do as well. There are six of them, and they all found their way through, shall we say, unusual circumstances. Six is all you need for Sodom, when it’s only open once a week. Of course, just because it’s closed the rest of the time doesn’t mean it’s not in use…
Leaning against the bar, Linus watched his pet. More specifically, he watched the magnificent arse of Caroline as it pressed hard up against the bars of the cage she was in. She’d only been in there about ten minutes at this point, but going by the wriggles and tremors of her buttocks she was definitely enjoying herself as she watched the crowd on the main floor.
If Sodom is a mystery, a fantasy spread on the wings of rumor, then the owner of Sodom is even more so. Only the staff of Sodom know anything about this strange person – and they’re highly unlikely to share any information. Oh, you might get to converse with them, if you’re lucky. But will you find out their name, their history? Will you find out why Sodom is, or how it came to be? Will you, really, find out anything at all?
It didn’t look like much from the outside – places like Sodom usually didn’t. But once you had entered, it was a different world. The club had two floors, and within that space it encompassed wide shared areas for play and voyeurism and smaller rooms for more intimate play. There was also space for suspension, areas for tie-downs, take-downs, soft floors for orgies, sofas for time out – and, of course, areas where you could sit and relax. But nothing was particularly particular. The only hard and fast rule was a limit on drinking: two maximum per night. Where was the fun in an arse plundering if you couldn’t remember it in the morning?« go back — keep looking »