As I’ve mentioned before, I love the outdoors and at this place there seemed to be just as much outside room as there was inside. The venue was on three floors, with a multitude of rooms. It was the kind of place one could avoid a person all night if they wished, a veritable labyrinth.

Most people could hide, not me. I stood out like a sore bum. I was PC Feral, fetish cop. The top half of my uniform was quite convincing and I seemed to be putting the wind up quite a few. As I passed people their faces would first look stunned, then they would glance down and notice the bottom half of my outfit which was just a pair of tights, knee high boots and a minute pair of black hot pants, which during the night seemed to slide further and further up my perfectly ample bottom. Then the penny would drop and I would get a smile. It proved to be a very popular outfit. I even had a few people ask me if I was a real copper.

“Yes, of course I am,” I’d reply. “PC Feral, fetish cop extraordinaire, keeping kinky law and order.”

Is seemed like nearly everyone was begging me to be arrested for being bad. I told them all I was off duty and had forgotten my handcuffs. Fetish or not, a copper needs rest too. This didn’t stop the madness. I just wanted a quiet night out. Not much chance of that. All night long men and women told me of their crimes, ranging from slutty behaviour to lewd longings and dirty doings.

At one stage I was outside getting some air, when a man came up to me and asked if he might be permitted to bite me. He said how he had a fetish for the police and that he had always wanted to sink his teeth into one. I reminded him that we were at a fetish club and that I was in fact just pretending. Had everyone gone mad? What was he on? I of course said no, he could not bite me, but he snuck up from behind and proceeded to latch on my arm and ever so gently bite down. Thought it didn’t hurt, it perturbed me, so I told him to bugger off.

“Why don’t you arrest me, officer?” he asked. He should be so lucky. That’s no way to strike up play with someone you don’t know.

“Look sonny,” I replied, “for your information, everybody in this club in under house arrest until 5am! Be happy with that. Now if you don’t mind I’m busy.”

“Haven’t you got any handcuffs, officer?” he added. “You should arrest me for what I did, and secure me to something as punishment.”

He deserved ten out of ten for persistence and being a right royal pain in the arse, but they weren’t the kind of marks I wanted to give him. A few stripes on his virgin flesh were more my thinking. I decided to give him a choice. I would see if he wanted to play my game.

“There’s no point in arresting you when you are already in custody. The only kind of correction I am handing out tonight is six hard strokes of my cane. Since you look like you’re all mouth and no trousers my advice is for you to move along.”

“Oh no, I don’t want that,” he winged. “I’m not into pain.”

“No, I didn’t think you would be.” I turned and carried on talking to Zippy, who was no more than two paces behind me the whole night. She’s such a loyal poppet.

“Wont you let me just bite you one more time instead?” the impertinent little shit interjected into our private conversation.

I had had enough. He was just a dog trying to get a bone.

“No you may not! You shouldn’t have touched me in the first place. I am not here for you to get off on. I am not a tool in your wank-box, you irksome butterball. Now go away.”

He didn’t budge. I started flexing my cane menacingly in front of him.

“Should I take your refusal to leave as an invitation to beat the shit out of you? I mean it’s not like I need permission. After all you bit me without any! Tit for tat and all that.”

He immediately left having realised I was in a playful mood and was most certainly not joking. I hadn’t even had a chance to put my arm down by my side than a young lady I know came rushing over.

“I’ll take six of your best, Mistress Feral,” she said purring like a Persian.

In no time at all she had her trousers around her ankles and was bent over holding onto some railing, offering her prime butt up for some attention. A doorman stood close by gently heckling. Not loud, probably hoping only those nearest to him might hear. I have very sharp ears. I heard his taunts.

“You can go next if you like,” I called across to him.

He smiled and said, “I would, but I can’t. I’m working,”

What a weak excuse. The club had a lovely atmosphere. Everyone was being very well behaved. We didn’t even need security. He could have easily taken a few minutes off, I’m sure no one would have wanted to deprive him. Oh well, his loss. I got onto the task at hand.

“You look like a tough girl, so there’s no point messing about warming you up and such. Six nice big hard strokes straight off the bat, are you up for that?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress,” she replied, settling into poison, an obvious player. “And when you’ve finished with me, maybe you wouldn’t mind giving him six as well?” she asked, pointing towards her boyfriend.

He looked a little panicked. I smiled. Fear is a great stimulator. Besides, she was going to go through some intense pain; it was the only way he might come close to sympathising with her better. He was also a cross dressers and what better way to get in touch with your feminine side? He would thank me later.

“He can be next,” I said, “that’s if the doorman doesn’t change his mind, but you first. Now be quiet and brace yourself. The first one will probably come as a bit of a shock.”

She grabbed hold of the railing and rested her head in her folded arms. Her boyfriend stood close by hugging himself to keep warm. It had been some time since I had caned a woman. I have to say, aesthetically, it was a nice piece of eye candy. The doorman seemed to think so too. He may have been on duty, but he wasn’t doing much work. He was too busy taking in the scene. Who could blame him? From my account club security firms prefer the fetish nights better than any other. I can’t think why. Might it have something to do with the beautiful half naked women running about in high heels? Who knows?

I was now facing a smooth feminine bum with a distinct jiggle you don’t get from a man’s. I slapped it a few times to bring it to life, and then I secretly took aim careful not to give my intentions away, and delivered the first stroke with full sadistic enthusiasm. She pulled away from the railings looked over her shoulder towards me and let out an ‘ouch, Feral!’

“Did that hurt?” I asked as I watched a bright welt appear smack bang in the middle of her bum.

“Bloody right it did!” she replied, shock washing over her face.

“Get back, I didn’t do it very hard,” I said, pushing her towards the railings while stroking her bum with the length of the cane. “It’s a good job I’m perceptive. I knew to go easy at first. I had a feeling you’d not had any real attention in some time. My mum is a palmist, you know, she tells fortunes. She must have passed a little of her gift on. I don’t read palms, or tealeaves and such, and I don’t have a crystal ball. I read bums. You might call me an asreist. Looking at yours, I predict you will have a very long life. Look,” I said tracing a line alone side her crease with the tip of the cane, “your lifeline goes all the way up to your back.”

She wiggled from the tickle, like a snake trying to charm me. It worked. I was hypnotised and took aim, landing another stroke slightly above the first. This time she let out a controlled ouch. She was taking the pain well. Coming to terms with it. I looked at her boyfriend.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re gauging what it might feel like. It won’t help you know. I’m not going to be so gentle with you.”

He smiled. She heard what I’d said.

“Gentle! That what you call gentle, Feral? He won’t be able to take what I am. He’s a sissy,” she said, looking at him. He smiled and nodded in agreement still keeping a tight hold of himself with a big comfort hug.

“He will have to take it,” I teased, “he’s not going to have any choice in the matter. We’ll make sure of that. Now, what number are we up to, dear?”

“That was two, Feral. Four more to go,” she said, re-establishing her stance with a side-to-side shimmy of her buxom bum. “Do the next one really hard. I’m waking up nicely now.”

I bet she was! There’s not many would sleep through a good caning. I had forgotten how tough girls could be. She was relishing in the pain, and that could only make matters worst for her boyfriend. It made sense I should hit him harder, being as he’s a man. I changed my posture into that more like a tennis player and got ready to strike a blow with full follow-through. I hoped she would be okay with such a hefty thwack. There was only one way to find out.

“Hold on tight, dear. This one is going to sting like a mother.”

I pulled my arm right back and delivered it upon her backside like a Wimbledon pro serving an ace. She didn’t make much of a noise, more a long intake of air over clenched teeth. A passer by shouted, ‘police brutality!’

“Move along, or I’ll have you for loitering,” I replied and immediately struck her again with another almighty blow.

“Ouch! There was not much warning then, Mistress!” she said through tight contorted lips.

“I know, dear. And in all the excitement I’ve lost count. What number are we up to?”

“Two more,” replied her boyfriend.

“You must be keen to have your go,” I said to him. He shut up, smiled, folded his arms tighter together and stood back out of the way.

Without warning, I hit her again twice in quick succession. Blam blam. That had her standing upright, rubbing her fuming bum with both hands.

“Bloody hell, Feral. That hurt!” she said, still stroking her bum vigorously.

“It was supposed to, dear. There’s no point doing a job unless you’re going to do it right. Besides, I knew you could take it.”

“One more for luck?” she asked, in a very mater of fact manner.

“Why not! Back you get then. We may as well make this one count. Fasten your safety belt girl, the rattan is coming into land.”

I made no concessions for the fact that she was a woman. I gave it my best shot, sending the length of cane into, past, and then out the side of her backside. She immediately stood and yanked her trousers up, all the while rubbing herself.

“Your turn now,” I said to her pouting partner.

“Yes, you now, darling,” she taunted.

He took hold of the railing and bent over. Reluctance on his part was not apparent. He looked keen, happy even. He wore a thin black see-through skirt that didn’t look like it would get in the way of any pain. I decide to leave him some dignity. Beside, his bum was nowhere are near nice as hers. He bent over the railings and she took her place by his side. Not for support, so she could tease him.

There was no warning for the first blow. It just landed with the sting of a thousand snakebites. I laughed, she laughed and he griped the railing with white knuckles, gazing aimlessly at the garden area below. I decided it would be more torturous if I talked to her rather than him.

“How did he take that one?” I asked her.

“Better than I thought, Feral. I bet it’s because you are doing it.”

She leaned over the railing and looked in his eyes.

“I’m right, aren’t I? It’s because it’s someone else. You’d tell me to stop if I hit you that hard at home, wouldn’t you? Bloody slut!”

He nodded and muttered something about doing anything for me.

“A Mistress’s whore,” I declared out loud. “How delightful. We may as well make the most of this situation. I say we make each and every one count as though a life depended on it. The first blow was just so I could get my aim. The real punishment begins now.”

I got into the follow-through position. I was going to deliver a full onslaught in quick succession with only slight intervals in between blows for pain contemplation.

As the series of colossal thwacks struck him, his body reacted by winching and writhing. His girlfriend and I laughed. We were having such a giggle at his expense. I bet deep down he was enjoying himself too, only in a different way. Still, he was very pleased once I reached six, which was in no time at all. He stood and started to thank me.

“What are you saying? I’m not finished with you yet. Thank me at the end.” He looked puzzled. I bet he was going on the assumption that six meant six, but with sadism in the equation things never quite add up as they should. I deduced that he was not as fortunate as his girlfriend, as she had been treated much more humanely, yet she’d asked for ‘one more for luck’. By my reckoning he needed luck more than she did, so I gave him another three thwacks just in case. By the end of our session his checks were striped and rosy red, but his face was drained blue-white.

So much for my relaxing night out, it was my own fault. I knew I should have left my cane at home. It’s like a stick of candy to a pain-lover. Never fails to attract a few masochists.

The cold air was chilling, so Zippy and I made our way back inside so we could have a little boogie. We spent the remainder of the evening dancing in the upper most dance area until throwing out time at 5am. Sometimes the nights are just not long enough to fit enough fun in. I wasn’t even tired. I could have gone for another few hours at least and by a strange twist of fate that’s what I did.

Outside, I got in my car to drive the ten minute journey home, took one wrong turn and ending up doing circles around London for an hour and a half, still dressed as PC Feral with only a short cardigan covering my uniform, dying for a pee, with my petrol on near empty. I decided not to chance getting gas as I didn’t much fancy walking around the petrol forecourt half naked, so I crossed my fingers, and my legs, and hoped I would spot somewhere familiar soon.

At 6:30 after driving past familiar looking landmarks repeatedly, I drove passed a really recognizable building. It was the Egg, the place I had left ages ago. I re-established my bearings pulled into a petrol station and hung my head out of the window to ask direction to Stamford Hill. An African cab driver that was walking back to his car seemed overly keen to help.

“Turn right out of here and just keep going straight,” he shouted across the forecourt. “You can’t miss it.”

Oh yes you can, I felt like saying, but thought better of it, so just thanked him instead.

“Wait!” he called with real urgency in his voice, his body already half way inside his car. “You can follow me, officer. It’s only a little bit out of my way.”

Officer? I looked in my mirror and noticed my black and while checked necktie had popped out of the top of my black cardigan and was now clearly visible. How funny.

I called out, “Thank you very much, sir, but stay where you are. I’ll be okay. I know my way to the station from Stamford Hill.”

I meant Tottenham Hale tube station, but he wasn’t to know. Once back on track, I was home and tucked up in bed within ten minutes, with a few extra surreal memories you don’t get on an ordinary night out.