Sold to the mafia

Katia

The sound of soft, elegant music envelops me as I step into Club X, my heels softly thudding against the plush, rich carpet. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim, ambient lighting as the bouncer that ushered me in gestures to the center of the foyer before leaving to walk back to his post. My eyes are drawn over to where he pointed and I inhale a shocked breath at the sight before me.

The club is absolutely luxurious with a huge ballroom that sports high vaulted ceilings and gorgeous, yet erotic Victorian paintings plastered along all the walls. My feet walk of their own accord closer to where the hum of chatter is coming from. In the middle of the enormous room, finely decorated circular tables dot the area, while a large stage lies in the background, its vast red curtains pulled shut. From what Madam Lynn’s told me, the stage is used for BDSM shows, though there must not be one scheduled for tonight. On one side of the room is an upscale bar with blue ambient lighting that contrasts with the red lighting on the walls from the sconces. It’s all very elegant and alluring. Every detail exudes sex appeal.

My body chills as I realize how far I’ve walked in. I cross my arms over my chest and the bracelet that I found in the box bumps against my breast. I stare down at it. It’s simple but elegant, just two thin silver bands with an empty space in between. It means I wish to be a Slave. It’s my membership here, but also a sign to those who are looking for partners. Madam Lynn asked me at least half a dozen times if I was sure. She told me if I changed my mind, I could always have a band put in the middle. A color that would signify my limits. But I’m certain.

I glance up at the large room, and again I’m in awe.

But all of this pales in comparison to the guests milling about the room.

Handsome men wearing party masks, some with animal prints, some adorned with angel wings, and others with full joker masks, fill the large space. Their expensive-looking suits radiate wealth and power, as do their posture and the tone of their voices. Some are sitting at tables, talking with each other, while others are coming in and out of the room, flowing in from a large hallway off to the side that I’m sure leads to other, darker parts of the club. But most of the men have one thing in common–a chained, collared and barely dressed woman at their bidding.

These women follow their Dom or Master with absolute submission, that much is obvious. They’re all so beautiful too, dressed in sparkly and elegant, yet racy dresses that show off their gorgeous curves. They look… healthy. And happy. It’s what surprises me most. My body heats with the realization and I lean slightly against the wall, needing support. This isn’t like my past. This is the fantasy.

I take in a shuddering breath, calming myself. I’m safe here. I open my eyes and watch as a woman seated in a kneeling position on a pillow next to her Master laughs at something he’s said. Or maybe he’s her Dom. I’m not sure. I can’t see her bracelet or his. But what I can see is her obvious devotion and his.

My heart races and as I take in each of the couples, again taken aback by the beautiful clothes they’re wearing, although many of them seem to be no more than scraps of cloth.

Fingering my newbie bracelet, I feel self-conscious with my short black dress that comes up above my knees. It’s not anywhere close to as sexy as the outfits these stunning women have on, but I know I’m just here to check the club out. I’ll have time to dress like them later… if I decide to join. I nod at my inner thoughts. I’m only here to get a taste. A dark voice deep inside of me stirs, whispering that I belong here. I ignore it.

My breath quickens as I watch a Master stop in his tracks to pet his Slave who is obediently following him on her hands and knees. The room spins around me as I watch him gently stroke her hair, and I clutch a hand to my throat, my lips parted in awe.

Everything about this place, the luxurious interior, the moody lighting, the powerful men and breathtaking women, is intoxicating! I take in a deep breath as a euphoric feeling runs through me. It’s like I’m getting high off my surroundings, drunk off the interaction between the Subs, Doms, Slaves and Masters. My pulse races, and my core heats. Seeing these women following around these powerful men obediently, reminds me of how much I crave a Master. How much I need a Master.

I want to feel the safety they’re feeling. The pleasure of being rewarded and cherished. My heart twists in my chest.

Madam Lynn, in a discussion we’d had online after I responded to her email, told me everything I wanted to know about the club and policies, but I would’ve never expected this. This is just… I shake my head. I have no words. It looks nothing like what I went through, but at the same time it carries a familiar feeling. For the first time since being back home, I have hope that I’ll be able to find sexual pleasure. The thought thrills me to my core and terrifies me all at once.

My heart races and my palms sweat as I slowly begin to move through the club, picking up confidence as I walk past the couples. My hands are clasped and my head bowed slightly, but I’m taking in every detail. Keeping my eyes low, I begin the descent into the ballroom, my hand gripping the railing for dear life. My emotions are a stormy mix, but the overriding feeling is lust.

I ignore the stares of the men I pass, knowing not to look them in the eyes and waiting for them to address me. None of them do, and I’m grateful for that. My heart is racing so fast; it feels like it’s going to shoot up my throat. I’m here of my free will, but I don’t want to give offense to anyone. As I step down into the ballroom, a few of the men at surrounding tables stop to stare at me. Two even approach me and I stand perfectly still, my gaze on the floor, waiting for them to command me, but when they spot my bracelet they look away. One gently fingers the bracelet and tells me in a hushed voice, “Welcome.”

I respond quickly, “Thank you, sir,” and wait for further instruction, but he simply leaves me and goes back to his table. I dare to look up, and the men seem to be enjoying whatever conversation they were having before.

Before I can ponder their actions, I watch as an untethered young woman, who’s talking to a group of men at a table, rises from her seat and approaches me. As she gets close, I’m struck by how beautiful and sexy she is. Moving with an elegance I usually only see in a woman twice her age, she’s dressed in a red babydoll dress with a black belt at its center, fishnet stockings and glossy black heels. Her dirty blonde hair is done up into a messy bun with wispy bangs that frame her eyes, and she wears a smile that is so warm and welcoming.

She holds out a manicured hand as she reaches me. “Hello, Katia,” she greets me, her voice low and sultry. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Welcome to Club X. I’m Madam Lynn.”

Her grip is soft and welcoming, and I feel completely at ease in front of her. “Madam Lynn?” I ask, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

Madam Lynn flashes me a friendly grin filled with perfectly white, straight teeth. “In the flesh.”

I know it must seem rude, but I stare at her, eyes wide, unable to respond. I just can’t believe it. How in the world is someone so young in charge of all of this? Talking to her online, she seemed wise beyond her years. I assumed that she’d be much older than the youthful woman standing before me. It was so easy to confide into her online, I felt like I was talking to a maternal figure. It’s a shock to see that she’s only a few years older than me at most

“Is something the matter?” Madam Lynn asks when I’m silent for longer than a few seconds.

I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry,” I add quickly.

She chuckles at me, waving a dismissive hand. “No need to apologize.”

I get the feeling there’s more than meets the eye to Madam Lynn, but I’m not about to question her. It’s none of my business.

She turns and gestures at the grand ballroom. “So what do you think?” she asks. “Does it suit your tastes?”Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

I turn my eyes back on the room, seeing all those powerful men dressed in suits with their Subs and Slaves, my breathing becoming ragged again. “It’s wonderful,” I say breathlessly, and mean it. I shake my head as I continue, “I never thought it would be so…” and my voice trails off as I struggle to find the words.

“Intoxicating?” Madam Lynn supplies.

That’s exactly what I was thinking. I nod my head and shoot her a grateful grin. “Yes.”

She gives me a kind smile. “It truly is; you won’t find a place like this anywhere else. And like I told you, all of the members here have had background checks. In addition, they’re safe and clean, and the club is secured. I promise you.” Her eyes shine with sincerity. Before the emotions overwhelm me, she adds, “But there’s so much more to it than what you’re seeing here. Would you like a tour?” She gestures to a hallway up on the walkway overlooking the ballroom.

I shake my head gently; it took me nearly a year to feel comfortable saying no again. And even now, I can feel the tightness in my throat as I deny her. “Could I look on my own?” I ask softly.

“Of course,” she replies and nods her head slightly before turning her attention to someone calling for her a few tables away.

It’s rude, but I walk off without saying a word, leaving Madam Lynn standing with an amused expression behind me.

I make my way to the hallway, the hum of the sultry music dimming, trying to keep my eyes to myself as Subs and Doms pass me by. They’re enjoying the power play of their relationships, and I don’t want to interfere by staring. Despite my nervousness, I’m excited as I step into the hallway. This place is a living, breathing fantasy.

I reach the end of the hallway and come to a room with several sliding glass doors. Through them, I can see naked masked men and woman engaged in all sorts of foreplay. My breathing catches in my throat as I watch a woman on her knees, sucking the massive cock of the man standing in front of her. My pussy pulses with need as I watch her head bob back and forth, the man watching her and gripping the back of her head to lead her movements.

I’m so engaged in the display of absolute depravity in front of me, I almost don’t hear the approaching footsteps.

“I’m not sure what you’re into, Katia,” I hear Madam Lynn’s voice behind me, and my heart leaps in my chest. I jump, startled and moving my hand to my frantically beating heart. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I try to catch my breath.

“Sorry dear, I just wanted to let you know that the dungeons are downstairs.”

As I turn to face her, her words make my blood run cold. Dungeon. I told her about some of my fantasies. And I do want to have a true Master who disciplines and punishes me. But the thought of seeing that right now… I just can’t. I’m on edge and trying to take all this in.

“Katia?” Madam Lynn asks with concern. seeing the distress cross my face for a brief instant.

I straighten and flash her a brief, nervous smile. “Sorry.”

Madam Lynn waves away my worry, shaking her head. I’m impressed by how forgiving and down-to-earth she is. “It’s no problem at all. I can see you’re a bit… overwhelmed.”

“I think seeing the playrooms is fine for now,” I answer, changing the subject from her earlier suggestion. A part of me wants to go to the dungeon, but I want to see it in a way that fills me with desire, not trigger me. I know I do want to see it. Just not yet. I’m not sure why, exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m destined to crave this wickedness, or whether it’s something that’s burned into my soul because of my past. But I want to feel the sting of the whip. I learned to worship it, and crave the pleasure it led me to. I desperately want it. But not yet. Not right now.

So far, Club X is like a den for sexual pleasure, exactly the fantasy I’ve dreamed of. Desire fills my blood as my eyes fall back onto the Subs and Doms fucking each other’s brains out. I even notice whips on the back wall of the playroom, and my skin burns even hotter as I remember how good my Master was with them. He was so good with whips; I learned to love their bite. In fact, it brought more pleasure to me than anything else he ever did.

“If you’re interested in finding someone…” Madam Lynn says, startling me out of my trance, “you could wait here.” My heart races, thinking about feeling it again. Would it bring me the same pleasure?

“Who would…?” I start to ask, my words trailing off. Whip me. But Madam Lynn knows exactly what I mean.

She gestures at men walking in and out of the hallway, and others who are watching what’s going on inside the playrooms. “Whoever you choose, Katia. You have no collar on your neck. Everything here is a choice.” She lets that sink in for a moment before she adds, “Don’t be offended if not many approach you.”

My eyes dart to hers, feeling self-conscious once again. “You’re wearing the bracelet of a Slave. And that’s a lot of responsibility. Most men here aren’t interested in being Masters.” Her eyebrows are raised, and she’s looking at me as though she’s wondering if I follow.

I swallow thickly and nod. “I understand.”

“Good.” She takes my hand in hers and pats it. “If you show your submission, men will come and offer you their partnership. You can always deny them.” I nod again and whisper, “Thank you.” My heart clenches.

And then she turns and walks off, her heels clicking across the floor. I’m left alone, trembling with excitement and desire, my mind racing with possibilities.

Fingering my bracelet, I look back inside of the playrooms, my mouth watering with hunger. I want that. I crave that. I want someone to dominate me. Own me.

Every inch of my skin is humming with desire. Madam Lynn’s words come back to me, Everything here is a choice.

Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and make a decision.

There’s no time like the present, and I didn’t come here to let my fear rule me. I need to see if this is what I want.

I kneel on the floor at the front of the room, bowing my head, placing myself into a submissive posture. The sounds of the sex coming through the playrooms reaches my ears, and my breathing becomes heavy as my pussy clenches with need.

It doesn’t take long before masked men coming in and out of the playroom approach me. A few stop to speak with me, but once they see my bracelet, they’re gone like the wind. I feel disappointed, but eventually others that are bolder stop to interact. One man even stops to tell me how beautiful I am, and what a good girl I’m being. Yet his words are hollow, because after a few more compliments, he leaves just like all the rest.

It shocks me how their denial affects me. It shouldn’t, but I desperately want to be kept.

I keep my position, though I start to worry that none of these men want what I want.

It also shocks me how they prefer Submissives. Being a Slave means you’re more vulnerable than a Submissive, and for men who crave power, this should make me a very attractive partner. But in a way, the fact that a lot of these men respect the differences between a Sub and a Slave, and aren’t taking advantage of my vulnerability, the fact that they’re respecting my desires, makes me feel even more comfortable with the club. It makes me hopeful that if I do find a Master, he will be someone that I can give myself to entirely and entrust with my safety.

I stay kneeling, my forehead lowered to the floor for what seems like an eternity, watching masked men stop to glance at my bracelet and then continue on as if I wasn’t even there before I hear the heavy thud of footsteps approaching me from behind.

I resist the urge to raise my head as the footsteps come to a stop at my side. If this is finally someone who wants to be my Master, I want to show that I can be the most obedient Slave. At least for a taste. Just for a moment. I can always walk away. My heart pounds as I wait for them to say something, anything, my breathing slow and ragged. I jump slightly as a warm finger hooks my chin and I’m forced to look up into the masked face of a man with sharp, patrician features.

“Are you truly looking for a Master?” he asks me, his voice low and deep, his gaze penetrating. He speaks with authority and power. He has an air of dominance about him. But my desire is replaced by fear.

As I slowly nod my head, I feel a slight tremor go through my body. I breathe heavily, trying to calm myself as I see his bracelet is like mine. He’s a Master. I try to imagine him whipping me, but the sexual tension is absent.

This was a mistake.

The moment the thought hits me, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A masked man walks up behind the man who’s still gripping my chin, but this one radiates something far more than power, his walk filled with confidence, his piercing green eyes staring deep into mine. There’s an air of anger, possession even, that’s rolling off of him in waves and lighting my desire aflame. My nipples pebble and my pussy clenches as his heavy footsteps beat on the ground with his threatening presence. Just looking at him causes my heart to race and my pussy to clench with desperate need.

I can’t even see all of his features because of his mask, but what I can see tells me that he’s handsome as fuck, with his chiseled jawline that sports a six o’clock shadow, and his intense green eyes that cause my skin to prickle from his gaze alone. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and his dirty blonde hair is slicked to the side almost like an old school gangster, increasing his sex appeal.

Good God, he’s so fucking sexy. My breathing refuses to regulate itself. He is a Master.

As he approaches, I forget that the man holding my chin is even there. This walking deity becomes the only thing that exists in the room for me, and his eyes seem to silently say to me, You’re fucking mine.