Chapter Nine
One evening Roland took us both to the club where we had first met Belinda and Mark. Belinda was fetchingly dressed in very little. Her n*****s had been rouged and then clamped with two silver clasps that were tight enough not to fall off but not so tight as to cause real pain. She had dusted herself with silver glitter to match the clamps. Round her neck was a leather collar with silver studs. She wore black silk stockings, self-supporting, and a tiny silver lame thong, not more than a cache-sexe, hiding her pudenda. On her feet were black patent-leather heels. Her hair was up in a pony-tail. I thought she looked enchanting, a mixture of glamour and innocence. Several men approached and asked if they might dance with her. Some were more frank about what they wished to do wit
