Althea Drakos.
“Has the problem been handled downstairs?” Mauro asks. I grunt my reply, not looking up.
“Has she been vetted yet?” I know she hasn’t, since that falls under my duties as head of security for the club. Nazario put me on the payroll when they first opened, with the excuse that I was already doing the job, I might as well get paid for it. I didn’t argue.
“Not yet. I was headed to your office to give them to Stavros from here, but you found me instead.”
I scan over the paperwork, and my cock instantly comes to life.
Althea Drakos.
22 years old
I skip through the general information. I’ll check all of that later when I run her background check. The information I’m interested in is her kinks and fetishes. When I get to the third page, I find what I’m looking for and am instantly hard as fucking steel.
Bondage. Sensory Deprivation. Whips. Canes. Punishments. Pain. Intensity.
Each word stirs my desire. The more I read, the more I want her. She’s pure fucking perfection.
“I’ll tell you one thing. With a hot little body and an ass like that, I’m calling dibs on?—”
“No.” I don’t allow him to finish that sentence.
“What the hell do you mean, no?” he asks, laughing humorlessly. There’s a challenge in his voice.
I look up to meet his eyes, one eyebrow raised, issuing a challenge of my own. “No.”
Mauro’s face breaks out into a wicked grin. “So that’s how it is, huh?”
I don’t bother with a verbal response, merely a curt nod before heading off to my office to find out more about Miss Drakos. When I reach my office door, I pull out my phone and send a text to Mauro telling him to make it clear to all that Miss Drakos is off limits.
3
ALTHEA
My girl Chloe came through in a pinch. My application is still in review, which means I’m not allowed to scene with anyone or join in on the funyet. I was, however, granted a visitor's pass to tour The Mansion while she works the bar. Observing might take the edge off, even if it won’t be the same as if I were on the receiving end of the punishments my body so desperately craves. Worst-case scenario, I can always find a secluded corner with my battery-operated boyfriend. With as many people that are here, I’m sure no one will notice.
A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.
Upon entering The Mansion, I was immediately brought into the locker room and assigned a locker for the evening. A beautiful blonde woman in a tight-fitting black dress with a plunge neck and a hem that cuts off just below her ass gave me access and told me to come find her when I was done changing into my outfit for the evening.
Chloe had already explained to me why this would happen. People who frequent this club typically come in dressed for cocktails or a typical evening at a normal nightclub. The Mansion, however, is anything but typical. It’s not likely thatanyone will be seen or photographed by outsiders upon arrival, but it’s standard practice to appear as normal as possible, just in case. If the paparazzi were to get a glimpse of what these people really wear or the intense sexual activities that take place, it could very well ruin the lives of some very important people in our society. After seeing the state of undress some of the members come out of the locker room in, I understand the need for discretion and secrecy.
Patrons come in one way, then once inside the doors, most change their attire and ready themselves for whatever the evening may hold. To say I’m fascinated is an understatement.
Most of the men are in dark suits, appearing as ruthless and powerful as they would in any office or board meeting. Even some of the women—those I’m certain are the Domme in their relationships based on how they carry themselves and how others address them—are wearing beautiful gowns. One came in wearing a leather catsuit, and I found myself drooling at how beautiful she is. I don’t play for the other team, but with her outfit and the way she flicked out her whip before strapping it to her hip, I can’t deny the thought had crossed my mind to explore what she could do.
It was the whip that turned you on, not the woman wielding it.
I’m not sure if that’s accurate, but I can’t deny that when she cracked her whip, my thighs clenched a little.
I crave pain and punishment. I need to feelsomethingother than guilt, remorse ...failure.
Don’t get me wrong, I have a great life. I make good money having a casino that is mine alone. I love my new job opportunity in forensics, and not just because it’s useful in our line of work. I genuinely love the science behind it. Through my studies, I learned so many interesting things I never knew and found the stages of discovery fascinating.
I have loyal friends and loving parents, guards and an army who would kill for me. But I also have guilt. And pain. And sadness that can sometimes overwhelm me.
On the day my twin went missing, we were playing in the park together. We had our usual guards with us, watching over us as we played tag and built castles in the sand with each other. We weren’t allowed to mingle with other children while we were there. Mama always worried about strangers because although Papa lives by a code that says women and children are off limits, not everyone believes the same. And someone proved it that day.
