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“Don’t forget, I didn’t build this business by thinking between my legs. I need a promise you will make the right decisions for our clients, not your personal preferences. The clients want classy, boundary pushers, not trashy bimbos looking for a quick buck.”
Perhaps Maxi had glimpsed Ariel’s photograph, considering the way her words seemed to dance around Dylan’s intentions. Once more, Dylan shifted in her seat. This time, because her motivation sat behind a clear glass wall that Maxi could see right through. She’d be hiring Ariel during the audition, and if Dylan couldn’t claim her, she’d at least indulge in the satisfaction of peeping in on the action from the sanctuary of her office.
The antique grandfather clock in the penthouse suite chimed noon on audition day. An atypical flood of nerves ran through Dylan’s veins, a force that exceeded any she had experienced in her twenty-nine years of life. The woman who had monopolized her thoughts since that memorable night at The Pendulum was finally within her reach. She rarely felt nervous meeting women, so this was unusual. She had a knack for attracting lovers at clubs, often leaving with someone new. Hell, she might have even taken the bartender home that night if Lucy hadn’t cramped her style.
They had the pleasure of using the luxury suite at The Silo, a hotel that was renowned as the most opulent in the city. It just so happened that this very location was where Adytum had a hidden floor that was only accessible by a key card. The entire building belonged to Maxi’s family, who set aside specific rooms and floors for exclusive clubs for their esteemed customers. According to Dylan’s knowledge, there was a maze of secret floors, each with its own private elevator buried within the hotel walls.
As Dylan awaited Cooper’s arrival, she arranged the applications in chronological order by scheduled times. As she sifted through the stack, she came upon Ariel’s. She gazed at the photograph, tracing it with her finger as if it were a way to connect with this beautiful angel. With a shake of her head and a scoff, Dylan placed the application at the bottom of the stack. She had slotted Ariel’s interview as the final one, hoping for their interaction to extend well into the evening.
The layout of the penthouse proved ideal for the auditions, featuring an expansive living area furnished with an array of sofas and chairs. It provided ample space for the applicants to await their turn. The well-stocked bar allowed them to offer each woman a drink upon their arrival. While under the influence, consent became shadowed. Adytum overlooked such concerns. Libations like champagne, vodka, and whiskey flowed like a river down the throats of both guests and employees. According to the law, the club’s “Members Only” status changed the rules of the game.
Inside the suite, the largest room had a playground installed, which included a Saint Andrew’s cross and a custom-made chaise lounge. Another room showcased a queen-sized bed with a black waterproof bedsheet. The remaining bedroom primarily served as an office, although it was often used to dabble in role-playing fantasies. Often, Maxi used the entire space to entertain her harem.
The bell chime signaled a guest’s arrival, likely Cooper, through the private elevator. She had volunteered to act as a submissive partner for Dommes seeking employment. Dylan wiped her clammy palms along the creases of her tailored black pants and steadied herself before opening the door, trying to avoid suspicion. Further to that subject, there was a suspicion that Maxi had included a “plant” applicant to test her judgment. While uncertain about the identity, she was fairly sure Ariel wasn’t part of the scheme. But then again, was she?
Cooper stepped into the penthouse, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt. Dylan was taken aback by her attire, nearly choking on her words, “What the hell? You are not helping me wearing that!”
She placed a hand on Dylan’s biceps. “Chill. I intend to change. And besides, if I’m going to be a love slave for the afternoon, chances are I won’t be wearing anything. I just came from the gym, so I’ll go shower. Be back in a bit, babe.”
A sigh of relief escaped Dylan’s lips as Cooper’s words put her at ease. She was nervous about the day. While she had sat in on multiple auditions in the past, this marked her debut as the host and decision-maker of new recruits. The task at hand was to hire four people: a Domme and three submissives. Or was it two submissives? She had, in fact, already decided about Ariel’s place on the roster.
Returning to the mirror mounted on the wall across from the antique clock, Dylan straightened her tie and smoothed the buttons of her starched white shirt. As she took a deep breath, she felt her chest rise and fall, and the cool air caused her nipples to harden against her blouse. If she were playing the role of a Domme to these submissive applicants, her body needed to look the part too. With a gentle flick, she teased her nipples, making them stand out and adding to the visible signs of her dominance, just like her straightened posture.
She gazed at her own reflection. Her eyes lingered on the different parts of her body, appreciating not just their appearance but also the way they had carried her through life. It had been difficult for her to overcome the challenges of her less-than-glamorous upbringing. As someone who didn’t conform to the norm, she fought against bigotry and prejudice, especially during her time in the foster care system. Despite advances made elsewhere, their city still held on to a different mindset. Racism was prevalent among all minority groups in the political landscape.
Cooper joined her in the mirror, wrapping her arm around Dylan before the applicants arrived. As the bar manager, she was no stranger to playing a variety of roles, including a reverse dynamic of sexual harassment where the employees bullied the boss. They stood there with their gazes locked on the glass, sizing each other up. It was a moment similar to a couple deciding if they looked cute together in the mirror’s frame.
“I never really liked the idea of two mascs together,” Cooper said, wrinkling her nose at the sight of them.
“That’s why you like Lucy. She’s so anti-me.” Dylan knew of Lucy’s efforts to rein in Cooper’s wild spirit, though she also understood that taming someone entrenched in a world of debauchery was no easy feat. It was akin to asking a chef to resist sampling their own dishes—it simply went against human nature not to indulge.
“That’s not the only reason.”
“If not that, then what?”
“Dude, that girl really knows how to—”
Nope. She did not want to hear another word. Dylan pressed her fingers into her ears and sang, “La la la la la” as she tore away from the mirror, trying to erase the rather awkward scene from her mind. It was worse than walking in on one’s parents. The few times Lucy swung by the club for a night of fun, Dylan couldn’t even bear to keep the monitor on that feed. They were sisters, not by blood, but in every other sense of the word. There’d be no more discussion about that.
Even though Dylan and Coop held similar positions in Adytum’s hierarchy, Cooper chimed in with, “Where do you want me, Boss?”
With a crooked smile, Dylan gestured toward the main bedroom. “Head in there. I got everything set up. Since we’re auditioning both Dommes and subs, I’ve spaced out the appointments. Gotta give you some rest between all those Mistresses coming in. We’ve got eighteen applicants in total. I want to see how far the Mistresses can push your limits, and I’ll do the same with the subs.”
“So, no using safe words unless she’s about to kill me or cut off my tits?”
“Exactly, that’s why I picked you to help. You’re a little pain slut, so I know it’ll take a bit to get you riled up.” Dylan grinned and winked as she poured herself a glass of sparkling water. “The applicants will wait in the living room, and I’ll open the bar for them as a test to see if they know the rules of safe and sane play.”
“If they’re a little tipsy, it might make your job easier.” Coop playfully nudged Dylan.
“No, we don’t condone non-con. If someone drinks, they’re out. I can’t take the chance that someone isn’t able to give consent.”
“Fine!” Coop raised her hands in a surrendering gesture. “But I’m gonna have a drink, just saying. I consent now to not being able to give consent later on.”
Dylan shook her head and walked over to the table, sliding the applications toward Coop. “These are the women.”
Just as suspected, Coop only half-glanced at the first few. She didn’t care who was on the other end of the flogger. All Coop cared about was being poked and prodded all afternoon. “Got it!”
Dylan handed the clipboards and consent forms to Coop. “When they arrive, we’ll offer them a drink while they fill them out. This way, we can gauge if they are really in the scene or just looking to score. If they take us up on a drink, serve it. I’ll review the forms and questionnaires, then dismiss them. If we don’t have any viable candidates left, we’ll hold another round of auditions.”
