Whip Hands by C. P. Hazel

atmosphere Jane was left while Max went upstairs to fraternise with the mysterious members. They would meet up again in about twenty minutes, he promised, after Frau Amalie had seen her.
    Jane visibly started as a loud voice was heard in the hallway and the door was flung open by a woman who made her gasp. Frau Amalie would have presented an astounding figure if only on account of her costume - an extraordinary mix of the pseudo-military and fishnet. But to this she added a strutting walk, a guttural Germanic inflection to her speech and an upward tilt of her head with its raven-hued crop. In her high-heeled boots she was barely more than five feet tall.
    â€˜Now, meine Madchen , I do not need to know your real name. But mine is Frau Amalie. Remember, Frau Amalie .’
    Jane nodded. She would remember.
    â€˜The Bismarck Club stands for the historic principles of the founder of the glorious Prussian Empire,’ Frau Amalie continued. ‘Here you will learn to understand the virtues of self-discipline both in mind and body. However, that comes later. A chosen group of young women will tonight have the opportunity to learn from some of the country’s greatest minds.’
    â€˜So I’m the new girl, then.’ Jane found herself starting to form a sardonic grin. She switched it off quickly as the little dominatrix gave her a piercing look.
    â€˜Now, to tonight’s business.’ Frau Amalie strode up and inspected Jane both front and back. ‘I have to do something that you may find a little shocking, but do not be nervous. We have to be very sure that there are no spies at our little evenings of conviviality.’
    With these words she came close to Jane, who sensed it would be futile to try to hide anything from this virago.
    â€˜You will stand on the other side of this dining table, Miss Jane. When I tell you to, you will undress. Each item of clothing you will place on the table so I may inspect it. You will then bend forward and put your elbows on the table for a body search. Do you understand? Good, now commence.’
    There were only two chairs, one at each end of the table. On the back of one of these the brisk dominatrix laid a dark blue robe. Jane had yet to start undressing, but argument was probably not worth it. If this was how the diminutive dyke got her kicks, then why not? She would get her own sweet revenge in the article next Sunday.
    As she was removing the black PVC belt from around her waist, Jane remembered the miniature camera incorporated in the bronzed buckle. The idea was that she could get some sensational photos by casually tucking her thumb into the belt and squeezing the shutter release.
    Turning away slightly, she quickly detached the buckle out of its stud mounting and palmed it. Jane was beginning to sweat. She had not expected to feel so intimidated, and she was not sure what would happen if the camera was discovered.
    She stepped out of her white satin thong and waited, shivering slightly despite the blood heat of the room. Having finished the clothes inspection, Amalie hustled her over to the table and bent her double, then produced a large pair of black callipers with which she pinched the skin at various points on Jane’s bare buttocks. Within seconds the woman was satisfied, and released her with a playful slap.
    Amalie smiled. ‘As I thought, you have plenty of protection on that rump of yours. Now, quickly dress in that pretty gown. You may put back on your underwear if you wish.’
    Jane felt exceptionally vulnerable as the piercing eyes swept her from head to foot. As Amalie went through her things, Jane resisted the urge to cover herself with a protective paw and tried to adopt a natural stance. For her pains she received a lascivious smile that made her flesh creep. She was also acutely aware of the buckle concealed in her left palm. She reached for the gown.
    â€˜Halt! I would like to inspect you once more, Miss Jane. Bend over with your