This story features a sex club that has BDSM elements in it, but which also features alcohol being served. There is no incidence in this story of characters drinking anything and then engaging in any sexual scenario, however we wanted to advise readers that are members of the scene that this may be jarring. Although it may not be common for alcohol to be served in these types of establishments in the US today, some clubs in the UK do currently still serve alcohol. Additionally, this story is set in 1903/1904, when the times were very different. Homosexuality was still illegal in the UK, so we envisioned this club more as a multipurpose safe space for members of the wizarding community, both gay and straight, to explore their sexuality during a time where it was still very much repressed. As such, we have included a bar in this establishment, but have made every attempt to ensure that this does not lead to any dubious consent issues.
A big thank you to our beta readers, Drarryismymuse and Nymphadorable for their invaluable advice, words of encouragement, and insights!
"I...I don't know if I can do this Bathilda." Albus looked around the dark club in trepidation. He never would have guessed that the faded advertisement for Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover at the end of the dark offshoot of Knockturn Alley was a concealed entrance to this underground club. Looking around at the various patrons around him, he could see that someone had a macabre sense of humour when they vandalized the slogan: "No Pain, No Stain!"
Red wax candles floated in the air, casting dim lighting on the room. The walls to their left were lined with booths that were made of a dark, almost black, wood but were upholstered in a rich, purple velvet material. As his eyes scanned the booths, he saw a witch wearing—well, wearing very little actually, her robe having added some rather strategic slits that only left a thin strap of material covering her groin and the robe unbuttoned at the top and gaping, just barely covering her breasts—slither underneath the table at the behest of the wizard beside her, and judging by the way the wizard's eyes rolled back, his jaw went slack, and his hands moved to his lap, Albus couldn't imagine she had merely dropped her wand. There was definitely a "wands up" situation transpiring.
When the wizard's head came forward, he opened his eyes and his piercing stare landed on Albus. A satisfied smirk bloomed on his lips and he seemed to give a strong thrust of his hips, causing a thunking sound to reach Albus' ears and a disgruntled moan arose from under the table. Albus cleared his throat and looked away quickly, feeling his cheeks warm with his embarrassment at getting caught out. Out of the corner of his eyes Albus could see the witch ascend from the floor and the wizard grab her by the waist and deposit her in front of him on the table. The strategic strip of fabric was flipped over her shoulder as she leaned back on her hands and the man tucked into his meal...of sorts.
Albus hadn't been entirely sure what to expect when Bathilda had offered to bring him to this private den of iniquity, but he was starting to get a much clearer picture. He was going to need a drink.
Bathilda was looking down at her, frankly obscene, cleavage which was spilling out over the bustier she had on. Based on the looks she was receiving from various wizards, and a few witches, around the room, the bustier's effects were appreciated by many, if not by him. The cleavage may not be doing anything for him, but he had to admit that the deep blue brocade material paired with the multi-tiered moonstone necklace that was dangling between her breasts was a pleasing combination. It gave her an air of mystery and reminded him a bit of a crystal ball used for divination. He knew better than to mention that to her though; she had made her disdain for Divination very obvious ever since his family had moved to Godric's Hollow when he was 10.
Bathilda reached in and adjusted her breasts in the bustier, then cupped them from below and gave them a few quick hefts, until she seemed satisfied in their arrangement.
"I told you, in here I'm not Bathilda. I'm Mistress BeeBee. Anonymity is a big part of what keeps this place safe, so it's important for you to remember that." Albus nodded his understanding; it was just that it was beyond a little weird to call someone that used to babysit you "Mistress".
"Do you want me to take you around and show you—"
"NO! No, that's...um...I'll be fine on my own," Albus interrupted her before she could finish the offer. He still couldn't believe that she'd managed to talk him into coming to a sex club in the first place, but the thought of exploring the place with her...he didn't think there was a Priapo charm strong enough to overcome that level of awkwardness.
Bathilda—Mistress BeeBee—gave him a kind smile, "Okay, just remember what I told you. As long as you keep that masquerade mask on, no one will be able to tell your identity. They're enchanted with a glamour charm that will make it impossible for anyone to remember specifics about you. You'll appear just as you are, but the memories will be blurred if anyone tries to recall your specifics."
Albus reached up to the ornate mask that was a rich orange-red colour and that flared out at the temples like wings of fire. When Bathilda had offered him a choice of masks, he had immediately gone for this one because it reminded him of a phoenix; he'd always wanted a phoenix for a pet as a child.
Bathilda held up her right hand, back facing Albus, "That ring I gave you is the safety precaution. It will glow with colour depending on your mood. Everyone in here knows the rule that if it's glowing red, the scene stops. Immediately. No questions. The scene is about safety, and if you're ever feeling unsafe, the ring will glow red and let them know that. A yellow glow will indicate that you're approaching your limits, and your partner will know to ease up. Green means that you want them to continue with what they're doing."
Albus looked down at the ring on his right hand, which was a murky brown, broadcasting the confusion, fear, and intrigue that was swirling inside of him. It looked a bit like billywig sting slime.
Bathilda reached down and clasped his hand, "Take a look around and try to enjoy yourself. If you want to leave at any time, just come find me and we'll go. Okay?"
Albus took a deep, fortifying breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this. Dropping Bathilda's hand, he walked deeper into the club. First order of business? A very stiff drink.
Albus skirted the edge of the dance floor, watching as witches and wizards swayed to the haunting melodies that were coming from the live band playing on the stage. Only, this dancing was not like anything he'd seen at any of the society balls he'd been to. The partners (or in some cases more) were so close that there was not a breath of space between them. And they were arranged in every combination imaginable. Albus watched as a tall blonde wizard bent down and kissed his brunette wizard companion, their mouths opening and tongues stroking against each other. Albus felt a frisson of excitement arc down his spine and into his cock. He looked down to see the ring change colour, taking on a more yellowish hue, like sun-baked grass.
Pulling his eyes away from the writhing bodies on the dance floor, Albus continued his trek to the bar. Spotting an empty stool, he slid onto it and was just about to place his order when he processed what he was seeing. The bartender's paprika-coloured hair hung loose around his face, reaching down past his shoulders and Albus could see small braids worked through the hair at various points. With hair like that, he must be either a Prewett or a Weasley. The long hair gave his face a softness that belied the rest of him, because his legs were clad in skin-tight, iridescent dragon leather that made Albus wish he could peel them off...slowly. Albus' eyes roamed up the ridges of his abs and got stuck on the golden chain that was dangling between piercings in the two dusky nipples.
"What can I get you?" The bartender's enquiry, delivered with a twitching smile, interrupted Albus' hand, which seemed to have been extending towards the man, wanting to give the chain a soft tug to see what kind of effect it had. Albus regained his composure through force of will, placing his hand firmly in his lap and out of trouble...but he couldn't help but notice the growing stiffness between his legs.
"Dragon Barrel Brandy, please."
The bartender turned around and perused the shelves of liquor behind him before spotting the bottle and Accioing it down from the top shelf. Taking a deep breath, he blew on the bottle, a small cloud of dust billowing into the air. Grabbing a glass, he opened the bottle and poured a generous amount out before pushing the glass across the bar to Albus.
"We don't get a lot of brandy drinkers in here, but it should still be fine. Give it a try."
Albus reached out and took a tentative sip; the bite of alcohol had diminished somewhat, but it still tasted pretty good. It would do to calm his frayed nerves. Albus reached into his robes to pull out his coin purse, but before he could untie it, the bartender told him to put his money away.
"That bottle must be older than you, so if anything you're doing me a favour. One less bottle to dust." At this, Albus gave the bartender an accusing look, his eyes darting down to the dust-encrusted bottle. The bartender gave a small chuckle, "It's on my to do list! So you must be new here. I haven't seen you around before, at least, I haven't seen that mask before."
Albus had almost forgotten he was wearing the mask. "Why aren't you wearing a mask? Aren't you worried that someone will recognize you?"
"Not really. I was fortunate enough to be born into a Pure-blood family that wasn't born with a pole already inserted up their backside. I waited until I was 17 for that." The bartender gave Albus a cheeky wink and Albus couldn't quite believe how forthcoming he was being. A hand extended out to him and he took it, the two shaking hands, "I'm Capra Prewett, but my friends call me Kay." So he was right. That hair really is a dead giveaway.
Albus was caught up in his own musings and it was a moment before he realized that they were still awkwardly shaking hands, an amused smirk on Capra's lips, "And you are…?"
"Wulf." He wasn't sure why he used one of his middle names. He guessed partly because he wasn't as brave as Capra and wanted to maintain some anonymity. Besides, he's got an overabundance of middle names, so might as well get some use out of them. And Wulf sounds dangerous and sexy.
"Sexy name, Wulf." At Capra's compliment, Albus couldn't help but feel vindicated in his choice. "So what brings you here?"
"I came with a friend. She's left me to explore on my own."
"She? Damn, and here I was hoping blokes were more your thing," Capra's mouth turned down in a small moue of disappointment.
"They are!" Albus' eagerness was embarrassing and Capra let out a laugh at his obvious discomfort. "I mean, we're just friends, Bath—Mistress BeeBee and I. She's practically a sister to me."
Albus' heart ached at the reminder of the very real sister that he had lost 4 years ago. Aberforth still blamed him for the death of both her and their mother, insisting that if Albus hadn't been travelling and was home, helping his mother take care of the vulnerable Ariana, he could have done something to prevent it. He knew that Aberforth felt guilty about being at Hogwarts at the time, wishing that there was something he could have done for the sister that he adored so much. Ariana and Aberforth had always been like two puffskeins in a poffle and Aberforth had been crushed by her death. Albus could only hope that his brother would eventually come around.
"Odd club to come to with your sister, mate." Albus is shaken out of his morose thoughts by Capra's irreverence. "Unfortunately for me, I have a rule that I don't date the clientele. Too bad, because you are downright adorable, but I'm sure you'll find someone else to keep you busy."
Albus couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at Capra's gentle rejection and he took a slug of brandy to ease the sting. Which was a mistake—brandy isdefinitely not the ideal beverage for that kind of drinking. Albus coughed, spluttering a bit before his throat finally stopped its spasming. He cleared his throat and then asked, "So...any tips for where I should start?"
"You may as well take advantage of that liquid courage you just dosed yourself with and check out the back rooms. There's an assortment of rooms back there that cater to just about every kink you could ever imagine." Capra cocked his head toward a door to the right that Albus hadn't noticed before. Not surprising, really, since there was nothing at all remarkable about the door, which was painted a solid black and did not give any indication that there was anything of interest behind it. Had Capra not mentioned it, Albus would have assumed it was a broom closet.
Throwing back the last mouthful of brandy—ugh, he really needs to stop doing that—Albus stood up from his stool and squared his shoulders, ready to face whatever lay behind that innocuous rectangle of wood. He noticed that the ring was now glowing a pale green. That stiff drink did wonders, not to mention the charming ginger serving them. "Thank you, Capra. It was a pleasure meeting you."
"You too, you big, bad Wulf. Have fun back there, and if you need any more liquid courage, you know where to find me." Capra gave him another quick wink before turning around, heading to the other end of the bar where an annoyed man was waving his hand in the air, trying to get Capra's attention.
Albus cautiously approached the black door. Glancing at his ring again, the colours swirled a mixture of dark green and orange, indicating his excitement and nervousness at what delights lay behind the mysterious black door. Gathering his courage, he pushed the door open and entered a long, dimly-lit corridor with several other identical plain black doors on either side. Unsure of what he'd find, Albus resolved to explore each door in turn in the hopes of finding something to his liking.
Reaching for the door closest to him on his left, he slowly turned the handle and peered inside. This room was as dimly lit as the corridor, but its interior was sumptuously decorated with velvet sofas and large silk cushions strewn across the floor. Soft music and moans emanated from the room as the many inhabitants in various states of undress pleasured one another. One woman lay sprawled on a large, velvet recliner with a man buried between her legs while two women took turns kissing her and teasing her nipples. Albus watched proceedings for a few moments but had no real interest in participating. Quietly closing the door behind him, he reached to open the next door.
Albus flinched as he opened the door and heat billowed out of the room and into the corridor. Curiosity piqued, he popped his head through the door and was met with a room that was disturbingly similar in appearance to the Prefect's Bathroom at Hogwarts; a brightly lit room with a large swimming pool-like tub in the centre filled with foam, bubbles and bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. The air was thick with a heady mix of sweat, perfume from the bath oils, and the unmistakable smell of sex. Albus' attention was drawn to one particular gentleman submerged waist-deep in the shallow end of the pool. His tanned body, slick with water and perspiration, was bent over the edge of the pool as his partner thrust into him from behind, knocking grunts of pleasure out of him as the water sloshed over the pool's edge and across the tiled floor. The gentleman certainly looked like he was enjoying himself immensely, but despite a slight stirring in Albus' trousers at the sight, it wasn't exactly what he was after. Albus was looking for something...more.
With each successive room he explored, Albus was becoming increasingly despondent; however visually impressive it was to come across a room full of couples suspended magically in mid-air having sex, it was a bit vanilla for his liking. The Pensieve Room was probably more exciting for those engaged in reliving memories (or other people's memories) of their wildest sexual experiences. But from a voyeur's point of view, watching people stooped motionless, face deep in pensieves wasn't just boring, it was kind of creepy. Albus quickly retreated from that room.
The Polyjuice Room was by far the most amusing one to stumble across—women transfiguring into men's bodies stood in front of full length mirrors, exploring their new and unfamiliar body parts while men transfigured as women fondled their breasts with the giddy fascination of school boys. Albus rolled his eyes as he closed the door on this room. He had about as much desire to be a woman as he did to be with one.
Pushing the next door open, Albus peered inside and gasped. It took his brain a few moments to process what he was actually seeing. The floor appeared to be a writhing mass of fur, but on closer inspection he realised that it was some two dozen men and women (he couldn't distinguish between the two) dressed as a variety of animals engaged in a mass orgy on the floor. He couldn't help but stare with morbid fascination as crups and kneazles crawled on all fours, sniffing, rimming, and humping each other furiously, a loud chorus of yips, yelps, and howls filling the room. Albus could see tails of all shapes, sizes, colours, and even some forked variants, wagging with enchantments, disappearing between exposed cheeks as the seething bodies moved around the room exploring one another. One of the crowd, bizarrely dressed as a giant pink puffskein, caught Albus' terrified eye. He scurried on all fours towards Albus, panting loudly.
"No no no no!" cried Albus before slamming the door shut again, the ring on his finger flashing an angry red.
"Fuck this," he grumbled. He should never have let Bathilda talk him into coming here, he knew it was a bad idea. He hadn't found what he had hoped to in the club, but he had definitely found his limit. He roughly pulled the ring off of his finger and turned to leave when he heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.
A faint slapping sound pierced the otherwise silent corridor, closely followed by a sweet chorus of groans—whether it be groans of pain or pleasure he didn't know, but the sound immediately made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned and listened closely. The sounds seemed to be coming from the room at the very end of the corridor. Slipping the ring back onto his finger, the gem immediately transitioned from an inert black to shining blue-green with intrigue.
Another slapping sound, louder this time, was quickly followed by another, deeper groan, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. Even though he hadn't seen what was happening, the noises emanating from the room made his pulse race. Turning on his heel, he marched past the other rooms to find the source of the sweet music.