Plain Cover JPG Novel sinderella CXB Version 745x1024 Sinderella by Miss Irene Clearmont
Sinderella by Miss Irene Clearmont

Sinderella – Soho, the centre of the sex trade in London in 1985. Jon, an unmarried lawyer, finds himself in a clip joint and unable to pay because his wallet has been stolen. Taken to the office to settle the matter, he finds himself in the company of Sherri, the manager of the club. Attractive, perceptive, dangerous, ruthless and with a sense of humour all of her own!

Book Details

Book Details

Sinderella – Soho, the centre of the sex trade in London in 1985. Jon, an unmarried lawyer, finds himself in a clip joint and unable to pay because his wallet has been stolen. Taken to the office to settle the matter, he finds himself in the company of Sherri, the manager of the club. Attractive, perceptive, dangerous, ruthless and with a sense of humour all of her own!

It becomes clear that the price of her discovering who he is, is that Sherri requires Jon to help her set up her new club Sinderellas with some legal work! Jean, his secretary and a certified accountant, finds herself drawn into this contact between her boss, Jon, and the dominant Sherri who seems to be taking a shine to her. A night on the town soon has her desperate for more!

So it begins! Jon, falling ever deeper into the devious power of Sherri and her dissolute friends as Jean discovers that the shadier side of life in 1980’s Soho is to her taste. The fun is just beginning. The boss losing his grip on his life, his secretary gaining a grip on Jon that is ever more difficult to resist.

A little blackmail, a little coercion, a little of what Jon wants and most of all, a little lesson in the dangers of this ruthless female cabal. After all, Sherri’s friends are all professionals, but they have the inclination for a little pro-bono work with the helpless solicitor. As the cast of dominant women weave their webs around Jean and Jon it becomes clear that this is a case of ruthless blackmail that amuses Sherri and her cohorts. Where will it end?

Will Jean get what she desires? Will Sherri’s club become a success? What special features will Sinderellas offer to make it the best BDSM club in Soho? Will Sophie, Katie and the others teach Jon the meaning of total submission? What is Sophie’s open secret that makes her the perfect lover for Jean? But, most of all, will the glass punishment slippers fit the man destined to discover his inner needs?

Setting: London 1985

F/m, F/f, Trans/m, BDSM, Shoe Fetish, Corporal Punishment, Blackmail, Dominatrices.

Strength 8/10 – 42,000 Words

Written 2016 Re-edit 2022


Excerpt: Sinderella

Part I – The Glass Slipper

Just One Glass – March 1985

It had been a mistake to come in here, thought Jon Détenu as he rolled the stem of the glass in his hand. This is not the place that I was looking for…

From Windmill Street the discreet doorway had attracted him, the flickering neon sign that announced ‘Discrete Sexy Liaisons’, the surly bouncer with a cigarette in his huge hand, the sounds of loud music and the pretty, but sluttish girl that had welcomed him and led him to a table. A chance to escape the rain if nothing else.

He called a waitress over and ordered a glass of bubbly and carefully put the carrier bag that he had been carrying on the floor under his chair. Now that he was inside with the overpriced bubbly in his hand, he was regretting his impulse. For a minute, he watched the plump girl making simulated love to the pole on the small stage and the rapt attention that she was getting from a boisterous group of men on the table who looked up and laughed as they made vulgar remarks. The girl squatted and moved her ass in time to the music giving Jon a surge of emotion that could best be described as sheer embarrassment. His attention then turned to the half-clad girls who moved between the half- empty tables to focus on those punters who could be milked of another bottle of what passed for champagne and wondered what had drawn him into the sleazy club on Berwick Street.

He had heard of a club called, ‘The Hole In The Wall’, but this was clearly not the place. He sipped at the glass and pulled a face. Despite the prices, it was cheap sweet bubbly and not champagne, the striptease girls never showed more than their tits and everything in the place was worn and slippery with spilled drinks. The stench of tobacco reeked the space and the carpets had lost their patterns.

One of the walk-around girls waved a bottle in his face and he fended her off with a wave of his hand to watch the climax of the squalid striptease that was coming to its conclusion. The girl, with her frozen smile slipped off the bikini top to reveal her breasts and moved to allow one of the men at the nearby table to tuck a ten pound note into the only piece of clothing that remained before she blew kisses at them and the music stopped. In moments she was gone and another girl walked onto the stage with the same frozen smile and reached up the pole to take a stance in anticipation of her performance.

The table wobbled and Jon caught his glass. ‘Fill her up?’ said a voice by his ear and a bottle appeared to top up the glass.

‘No thanks,’ said Jon.

‘They have to be full,’ said the woman’s voice in his ear. ‘Club rules!’

‘I’m done…’ He looked round to see the owner of the voice. Dressed in gold lamé, the girl held a bottle in her hand expectantly as Jon’s hand covered the top of the glass.

‘I’ll have the bill, please,’ said Jon.

The music blared out again as the next pole dancer took her place as the group of men took more champagne. Jon finished his glass and stood waiting for the girl in gold lamé to return while the pole dancer wound her leg around the pole and started her tired routine. At last the waitress returned.

‘That’s sixty,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘One glass? Sixty pounds?’ asked Jon.

‘The prices are on the notice by the bar,’ said the waitress. ‘Fifty a glass, sixty including the tip for the girls!’

Jon went to pull his wallet from his jacket pocket. His hand slipped inside to find that it was gone. Frantically, he patted down his suit jacket and trousers before looking on the table and then the floor. Finally, he checked his carrier bag that lay on the floor before he shrugged and began over again with a sense of disbelief.

The waitress smiled and looked over to the bar before raising her hand. ‘Er, my wallet,’ said Jon as he checked again to find just a few coins in the bottom of his pockets.

‘You have to pay…’

‘I know,’ said Jon as he saw the barman head for his table.

The waitress stood back as the barman arrived. ‘Can’t pay,’ she said to the heavy man who now loomed over the frantic man who was checking his pockets in a futile search for his wallet.

‘I see,’ said the barman. ‘Sir, would you mind settling the bill immediately?’

The studied politeness did not correspond to his expression. His stance suggesting that he expected Jon to attempt to run for the door. ‘I have lost my wallet…’ said Jon looking up at the barman.

A brawny hand reached out and patted the front of Jon’s jacket roughly and then the barman stepped forward slightly. ‘Of course you have Sir! You’d better come with me!’ he said. The words sounded like a threat to Jon as he looked at the waitress as though half-expecting her to intercede for him. A huge hand came to rest on his shoulder while the other one swept out to indicate which direction he expected Jon to move.

‘I just have to go to a cash machine,’ said Jon. ‘There’s one in Piccadilly Circus just round the corner.’

The barman smiled as if he enjoyed catching out his quarry in a lie. ‘You’ll need a card for that, sir!’ Jon’s arms slumped to his sides as he realised that losing his wallet meant that he had lost cash and his cards.

‘So come along, sir, and we can discuss this little problem somewhere quiet… No fuss now!’ Jon picked up his bag and was guided by the barman who moved just a pace behind him. They passed the group of drunken men who were intent on the strip-tease taking place just a few feet before their eyes and then moved into the shadows at the back of the club.

Chairs and tables were piled up, bags of garbage stood in a row and Jon suddenly had a premonition of stepping into an alley with the barman who would pulverise him to a pulp as he ‘discussed’ Jon’s problem. ‘Through the door, sir,’ said the barman as he indicated a black painted door.

The studied politeness grated, but there was no escape. Jon opened the door to find a narrow flight of stairs going up and breathed a sigh of relief to find that the expected back alley was not his destination. Jon climbed the stairs slowly before coming to another door. Padded with vinyl like some prohibition era bar, he reached for the handle as a hand passed him to press a small button surrounded by grubby fingerprints.

Behind the door a bell chimed and the door opened to reveal a dark office with a huge desk. Jon entered the room, the barman close behind. On the wall were four screens that showed flickering pictures of the interior of the club and its entrance. Behind the desk sat an attractive woman with bleached blonde hair. ‘Sit,’ said the barman as he indicated a chair.

The woman smiled crookedly, she rested her hands on the broad top of the desk as Jon sat on the scruffy chair in front of the desk. ‘This gentleman finds himself unable to pay for his drink, Sherri,’ said the barman.

‘Wait outside,’ said the woman. ‘I’ll deal with him.’ The words were spoken in a cultured accent that seemed out of place coming from her lips. Her eyes took in the man sitting in front of her, the suit, the bag dangling from his hand and the worried look in his eyes.

As the barman nodded and retreated through the door he said, ‘I’ll be just outside.’

As soon as the door had closed the woman leaned forward and said, ‘How much do you owe?’

‘Er, fifty for the drink…’

‘And the tip,’ she said with a smile. ‘Everyone that drinks here tips!’

‘I’m sorry, but I have lost my wallet.’ As Jon spoke he reviewed his progress through Soho. The last time that he had used his wallet was just half an hour before entering the bar. Had he left it on the counter in that shop? He decided that he hadn’t, so someone must have picked his pocket in the meantime.

‘Well, you have to pay,’ said Sherri. ‘Now we just have to decide how that’s going to happen!’

‘I can go back to the hotel…’ said Jon as he imagined trying to get a new credit card on a Saturday night.

‘Perhaps we can reach another arrangement,’ said Sherri who clearly was enjoying the uncertainty and apprehension on Jon’s features. ‘You could leave a little guarantee… That’s a nice watch!’

Jon looked down at his wrist and pulled a sour face. ‘It’s not worth much,’ he muttered. ‘Have you anything else?’ she asked, eyeing the bag clutched in his hand.

‘Er, nothing of value…’

‘I think that you’d better empty your pockets,’ said Sherri.

Jon was about to object, but the look on her face was demanding and he dared not defy her, not with that brute just outside the door. He pulled a handful of change, a couple of visit cards and his tube ticket from his pockets and put them on the table.

Sherri pointed at the bag and smiled. ‘Let’s see.’

Jon’s hand clutched the bag. ‘I said. Let’s see what you have there,’ she said. ‘Nothing…’

Sherri sat back in her chair, one hand went to flick the long blonde hair from her face. ‘If I have to call Eric back in, things will go badly,’ she said.

Jon thought back to the seedy sex-shop where he had bought the magazines. His hand closed tightly on the bag. A manicured hand moved to the small switch on her desk. ‘The bag…’ she said.

Jon lifted his arm and pushed the bag across the desk towards the smiling woman and realised that she probably knew what the bag contained and was just humiliating him for the fun of it. ‘You see, that was not so difficult,’ she said. ‘Now then, let’s see what you have here!’

Her hands toyed with the bag for a moment as she watched her prey and then pulled the two magazines from the bag revealing their lurid front covers. ‘Women with Whips,’ said Sherri as she flicked through the pages of the topmost magazine. ‘Interesting tastes, let’s look at the other.’

Jon felt his face blush as she inspected the second magazine. ‘Dominatrix Directory,’ she said. ‘The premier contact magazine for men who like leather and latex…’ she read from the by-line on the cover. ‘You are a naughty little boy aren’t you?’

Jon nodded and then in confusion shook his head. Her hand moved and picked up the visit cards from the table.

‘Two cards from Jon Détenu,’ she said as she read the card. ‘I suppose that that’s you? Two cards the same means…’

‘They’re mine,’ he said resignedly.

‘That’s good, Jon. Solicitor and commissioner of oaths,’ she read. ‘I’ll take these, after all, it’s always good to know who one’s doing business with!’ She slid the two magazines back into the bag and pushed it over to the man slumped in the chair opposite. ‘I think that you’ll be back to pay your bill, Jon Détenu.’

As he went to take the bag she put a hand on it. There was a brief contact of hands and then she said, ‘I think that I’ll keep these until you come back to pay for your drink, Jon. I am always looking for new ideas for the girls!’

Jon scooped up the coins on the desk and put them in his pocket. ‘You have a week to come back to pay,’ said Sherri, ‘make sure that you do!’

‘I will.’

‘Of course you will, Jon. Of course you will.’

Excerpt from: Sinderella

Available files:

  1. Irene Clearmont - Novel -Sinderella - 2022 CXB.pdf
  2. Sinderella.epub

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