Balzac and I therefore set off with a distinct air of excitement. Having been locked up in more ways than one for most of the afternoon, Balzac was plainly in a subby mood, and we were both anticipating a painfully good evening.

Sweet Torments has a great play space. The main hall has been renovated especially for the club and has a serious, playing atmosphere. It’s been painted black and red, with flaming torches, to give a suitably gothic feel. There’s also a bar area at one end, so you can relax and chat without disturbing the play. But this is a proper players’ club – and it had the most awesome array of kit that I’ve seen in any London club. Balzac and I spent the first ten minutes just walking around gloating over the possibilities available, and I found myself beginning to regret the decision to top for the night. Even then we were told only part of their collection comes out on any one evening, so we’ll have to keep coming back if we want to see the full range.

It’s mainly a club for couples and the controlled entry policy is intended to give them the freedom to play without inhibitions. Swingers are discouraged, although as one woman remarked, you’re never quite sure how a scene will develop. There was a markedly high number of male dom/fem sub couples, and I could see why – the lack of lurkers gives Sweet Torments a non-oppressive atmosphere which feels very sexy. There’s a lot of scope for building up psychological tension and playing an extended scene.

I was first tempted by a magnificent hoist, which was able to stretch Balzac neatly onto his tip-toes. And since it was mounted on a small stage, he was raised to a perfect whipping height. My greatest challenge was not falling off the stage into an ungainly heap, while I was trying to strap him up, thanks to my unnaturally high heels. After a good whipping - and in a special tribute to JBW - I felt I had to strap him up into the giant leather spider’s cocoon. I left him hanging suspended (no doubt dreaming about tortuous bondage constructs) while I went to track down our hosts. This took longer than I expected, but Balzac seemed happy enough just hanging about.

By about 1.30 I was beginning to feel a definite need to switch – it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity to try this equipment from both points of view. My attention had been caught in particular by a naughty toy christened Ken Wood. Ken is a slut-girl’s wet dream. And I’m told they had to swap his member for a larger one, by popular demand.

In the end they practically had to chuck us out. I remember drifting off in the cocoon (unlike Balzac I was mainly planning bathroom tile patterns) swaying gently until they started blowing out the candles around us. Sweet torment indeed.

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