But I can’t, I tell myself. More than the money, I need a Dom who’s going to force me to face my fears. A Dom who’s going to heal me, so I can move on with my life. My blood cools, and I close my eyes. With everything in me, I know that I need this.
Chapter 7
Lucian
The door to my Audi R8 closes with a gentle click. It’s rare that I drive myself anywhere anymore. I need the time to work, and with the heavy city traffic, having a driver frees up a good hour for work. It’s even more rare that I have to self-park. Club X has a valet option, but no one uses it. The clientele here is well known, and members have our own gated parking on the side of the club. The lot is littered with expensive cars all rivaling the collection I have in my garage. Aston Martins and Porsches catch my eye in particular.
It’s practically a treasure chest for men like myself.
I hit the lock, which echoes a small beep in the chill of the night, and stroll toward the entrance. My mask is already in place. It’s simple, and made of smooth, black thin leather that wraps over my eyes and covers the bridge of my nose. Silk ties keep it in place. I actually purchased this one here. The club sells a wide variety of masks. They sell everything you could ever possibly dream of or need for this lifestyle.
As I step closer to the nine foot high carved maple doors, I smile wickedly in anticipation. Inside of this club is another world entirely.
It’s a world of sin and darkness. A world of high-end luxury, an adult playground.
The darkness this time of night only makes the exterior of the club more alluring. The deep red up-lighting along the columns is barely a hint at what’s waiting within. From the outside, you’d have no idea what you were walking into if you weren’t already familiar with the club.
Even when the large doors open and reveal the interior, at first you may be deceived.
Before I can knock, the doors swing open silently. The staff is timed so well I don’t even have to slow my pace. My shoes click on the stone entryway before being silenced by the plush carpeted floors. I walk in easily, feeling the warmth of the club in the foyer. The faint seductive music hums through my body, and a grin threatens to slip into place.
The air itself is provocative and mysterious. Nothing in this world exists like Club X.
“May I check your coat, sir?” the young woman asks at the long black front desk of the lobby on my right. Her voice is soft and even, and she holds my gaze steadily. Very little of her skin is shown other than the deep V cut in the blouse of her black pant jumpsuit. Her professional look is complete with natural makeup, and her blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
She’s wearing the same uniform that I recognize from all the years I’ve come here. It’s easy to distinguish the employees in Club X. There’s never a doubt that they’re off limits and not interested in play. The professional touch that Madam Lynn requires is admirable.
Some things never change.
The air of familiarity makes my blood heat with the recognition of what’s to come.
“No thank you,” I state easily and walk through the lobby, the music increasing in intensity. The view of the restaurant calls to me.
Most guests are in awe of the dining area with its high ceilings and dim lighting. The stage takes precedence this late at night. The silhouettes of the go-go dancers are barely visible as the lights flutter around them in beat with the music.
There may be a doubt as to what Club X is if I’d come earlier and stayed for dinner, but when true night comes and the lights dim, the curtains open and the club comes alive. Sin around every corner, and a fantasy come to life.
I take a quick glance at the guests, and see a few familiar faces. I smirk, standing behind a round, tufted booth in the back of the room, the hallway behind me. Familiar faces aren't quite the right words, considering the men are all masked. But I recognize them, regardless. Senators, professors, CEOs… all men of power. My peers.
There may be secrecy in this building, but secrets are only as good as those who can keep them. Trust is something that doesn’t come easily to me. But the contracts we all sign for our memberships are held sacred among us.
Judging by the simple clothing the women are wearing, there’s no theme tonight. I suppose I should have known that. Madam Lynn likes to keep things simple on the night of the auction. One a month. No wonder the restaurant is only half full.
A couple passes behind me, and I turn to watch them walk through the hallway. His crisp, dark navy suit is at odds with the chiffon shift dress she’s wearing that’s practically see-through. Her pale pink nipples show through the fabric, as well as a hint of her pubic hair. She has a thin gold leash wrapped around her neck and held in his hand. It’s a loose hold, and the chain is so thin I imagine it would easily break if she were to pull away from him. Without a collar on her neck, and judging by how quickly she’s moving, it must be a punishment. She’s to obey, or she'll no longer belong to him.
There are two men for security at the entrance to the hall. The restaurant is for anyone, but past this doorway is only for members. I already have the silver bracelet granting me entrance around my wrist, and I easily lift my sleeve to reveal it as I walk by. They nod their heads and remain still, their hands behind their backs.
Madam Lynn has stepped up her game in that department, they look like the fucking Secret Service.
The man picks up his pace and pulls a bit tighter on the petite woman’s leash as they get closer to their destination. She lets out a small gasp and takes a few quick steps to catch up.
The Submissives in the club who are single and not claimed are able to roam, but there are rules. They must always display their submission so they don’t break the fantasy the club provides; any action that disrupts scenes can lead to being banned or potentially punished if a Dom sees fit to take over the Sub and she agrees.
The Submissive’s bare feet pad on the carpet as he leads her past the stairway to the dungeon and down a hall to the left where some the private rooms are.
They can be purchased for a decent price, all things considered. A few hundred grand a month is a reasonable rate. Each is numbered or named, depending on the owner’s discretion; all are expansive, and fully furnished. They’re tempting for the ease at which they can be used.
I’ve never had one. I do have a strong desire for privacy, but not here. I prefer the confines of my own home. It makes things difficult though, seeing as how the Submissive must agree to leave and to play where I’d rather be.
It’s one thing to be consumed by the aura of the club, but it’s another thing entirely to unleash your desires in another person’s care. And without the protection the club provides.
My steps pick up as I pass the divine pleasures of the club and make my way to the stairs so I can do what I came here for. The auction is starting soon.
Upstairs the atmosphere continues, but it’s subdued. It’s far more serious, and the music has vanished. In place of the dark red furniture and luxurious trimmings are simple round tables scattered with only two or three chairs around each. On the back wall is a stage, smaller than the one downstairs, with a podium off to the right. The deep red curtains are closed, leaving the room dark with little to occupy yourself with, but there’s only one thing on every man’s mind in this room at the moment.