I’ve never seen this woman before. I have no idea who she is, but as she leans into my space, and the sweet and spicy blend of her oriental perfume washes over me, I understand the boon she’s offering. A free pass into this club, but at what cost? I don’t know. Nor do I care. Because I need to be punished. I need to be dominated. I’m a sub without a Master.He gave me away. And this is the only way I can ever feel whole again. I lower my gaze to the pavement. She lets go. “I’m s-sorry.”
She cocks her head. “Sorry what?”
“Sorry, Mistress?”
A contented sigh leaves her. “You’re forgiven, because you’re so fucking sweet, but do it again and I’ll beat your ass so hard you won’t sit without remembering to be on time.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I whisper, as tears well in my eyes. I fight to hold them back.
“Subs, right?” she says to the security guard.
He laughs derisively and allows us to pass. “Have a good evening, Mistress Violet.”
“Oh, it’s bound to be wonderful now, though nothing about it could be called good.” Mistress Violet glides down the stairs. The neon lights catch the color of her hair as she passes, creating a purple crown on top of her head when she turns back. “Come, my sweet. We have some things to discuss before we play.”
She opens the door on a dimly lit hallway. I swallow hard, and follow her down the stairs and into the club, careful to stay slightly to the right, the way a submissive should. The way my Master taught me to.
Around us, people stand in the hall, chatting, but they move out of the way for Mistress Violet. I know I should keep my eyes cast down at the ground, but I can’t. There’s too much to take in. Scantily-clad bodies are everywhere, some clothed, and some not. In the room to the right of the hall, there appears to be a performance space, and the bench seats lining the walls are filled with men and women watching the scene on the stage. Not everyone watches though. Some are busy fucking, some are kissing, and some are bobbing up and down on their Master’s cock as he ignores them to watch the show.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mistress Violet’s voice echoes in my ear, and it’s only then that I realize I’ve stopped in the middle of the hall instead of following.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize for being curious, my sweet. But come. The Boss must decide if you’re worthy of a seat at our table, since you decided to forgo our heavy vetting process.”
She walks to the end of the long hall and pushes open a door without knocking. A man with grey hair and a sharp suit reclines in a chair by the window. In front of him is a young man on his knees. He has a jeweled butt plug in his ass, a fuzzy headband with puppy ears, and a pink collar around his neck. The man’s fingers are hooked in the studded, bejeweled leather as he urges his sub up and down on his cock. He lets out a gruff sigh, half frustration and half desire. “This better be good, Violet.”
“Pardon the intrusion, but we have an intruder of our own to deal with. I found her out the front, trying to convince Tony to let her enter.”
The sub carries on with his task, and I watch with rapt attention as heat and desire pool between my legs. If I had worn panties tonight, they’d be soaked.
“So? People try to gain access to my club every night. Why should I care about one more?” He thrusts his hips forward, and the younger man grunts.
“Oh, Atticus, put your dick away for five seconds and look at her face.”
“That’s enough, puppy,” he commands, and hispuppyobeys with a whine. He gives the young man a soft smile, and whispers, “Aren’t you going to bury your bone?”
The boy hurries to tuck Atticus’ appendage back in his pants, which earns him a pat on the head. “Good boy. Now, Violet, what are you talking about?”
He crosses the room toward us, and studies my face. Realization dawns on his handsome features. I’m aware I’ve become a household name thanks to the media, the poor little ballerina stolen, captured, raped, and trained as a sex slave. I understand why my father wanted me to stay in the Hudson Valley, because at his house, he could protect me from prying eyes, and protect his good name in the process. Atticus doesn’t look at me with pity. He just cups my cheek and searches my gaze. What he finds there, I have no idea. Desperation, perhaps?
“It’s a risk.”
“It is.” Violet’s heels click on the floorboards as she moves closer. “But one I believe is worth it.”
“Why did you come here, little ballerina?”
I meet his eyes and say, “Because I need it, Sir.”
“What do you need?”
“The pain, the pleasure. I need to be fucked, to be beaten. I need a master.”
“And what happened to your old master?”
My breath catches in my throat, and the floodgates open. “He . . . he let me go.”
“So beautiful, and so broken.” He sighs and wipes away the tears from my cheeks. Behind me, Mistress Violet rubs circles on my back.