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“Mon petit, you know I’m just teasing.” She patted Dylan on the cheek, giving her a slight caress as she pushed away from the bar, which was the heart of Adytum’s playground. The place where one could bask in the sweet scent of sex while sipping a cocktail. “Are you ready for Lady Katrina tonight?”
“God, yes. That woman never ceases to amaze me with each performance. Not only me ... everyone. The guest list tonight is beyond capacity. We might have to turn people away if we want to stay within the city code.” Dylan’s eyebrows shot up as she recalled the last performance by Lady Katrina.
A renowned figure within the BDSM community, Lady Katrina was famous for her ability to make submissives squirt on command. It was a rare honor and stroke of luck to be her on-stage sub. Her performances were voyeuristic spectacles of kink. Dylan, being a Mistress herself, admired Katrina’s strength and elegance when she tormented her willing recipients. Lady Katrina’s teasing and tantalizing techniques brought her submissives to the brink of ecstasy, ending in a breathtaking climax. Not only that, she was a gorgeous knockout of a woman who oozed regality with each step she took.
On the weekends, Lady Katrina performed in La Prizonye, which was an arena located within the walls of Adytum. While she wasn’t always the club’s star, on the nights she performed, the club burst at the seams with guests.
“Nonsense. No one gets turned away. And besides, I suspect you just want to watch the show.” Over the years, Maxi had evolved into more than just an employer and friend for Dylan; she had become her mentor in the BDSM world. “It’s fine to admire Lady Katrina as a Mistress, just don’t get too wrapped up in wanting to command that level of respect yet. You’ll get there. Sometimes, all it takes is the right submissive who can boost your confidence as a dominant and take you to the next level.”
“Trust me, I’ve been looking.”
There was a hearty laugh as Maxi draped her arm over Dylan’s shoulder. “Don’t look too hard, or you’ll end up creaming yourself over some bitter pain junkie. Take your time—you have a natural talent for being a Domme—but if you act desperate, you look desperate. And that, my love, you are not.”
In the doorway of the executive office, Maxi took a seat behind the desk while Dylan settled into one of the comfy leather chairs as if she were just as important or at least part of the family.
Desperate, she was not at this point in her life. Maybe long ago, she was. As an orphan, she bounced between foster homes and was in and out of juvie until she met someone at a youth club who took a chance on her. Ida-Mae Tyler and her daughter, Lucy, filed for custody of Dylan when she was fourteen—still young enough to get her life together. Dylan’s work for Maxi would mortify Ida if she knew.
The Delacroixes were synonymous with wealth and power, as well as inequality. Dylan overlooked the latter since the former provided her with a stable job and security: two sought-after selling points. With unemployment at its highest, there was a great disparity in classes. People either had money or they didn’t. Those who did, ran the city. Much like the Delacroix family, who owned everything. Dylan finally enjoyed being a part of this overindulgent world, at last.
“So, when are you leaving for New Orleans?” Dylan asked as she crossed her legs in her tailored pinstripe pants with a pair of black, hand-finished, full-grain leather boots. She dressed and strutted like them, but in reality, she was still a social scrub.
“Wednesday,” Maxi said, glancing up from her shuffled paperwork. “Are you sure you can handle the next round of new hires? I can always reschedule if you’re not feeling confident.”
“No worries. I’ve got it covered. You know me. I can handle anything you throw my way.”
“That’s what I like to hear. You’ve come a long way, mon petit. I know you’ll keep things running smoothly while I’m away.”
“I was thinking about checking out The Pendulum before the auditions. I’ve heard they’ve stepped up their entertainment game. Maybe it’s worth seeing what the competition is up to?” Dylan suggested, hoping to think like Maxi had five years ago when she poached Dylan from another female lifestyle club in the city.
The Pendulum was much like Adytum, except without the substantial price tag. It was a club for female swingers and for BDSM, where women could find a Mistress or submissive of their choosing and enjoy a night of consensual bliss. It was part of the membership, just as it was with Adytum, or at least it had been three years ago when she last visited the club. The Pendulum catered to a young crowd, so anyone could get in. It had been gaining popularity over the past year, and obviously, they were doing something right. The truth was that Adytum’s client base had been the same for years, and as the older members retired, their numbers dwindled. There hadn’t been a surge of new, wealthy, and influential women joining to make up that deficit. Instead, the up-and-coming executives were seeking their pleasures elsewhere.
Maxi disagreed. “Save it. They’re not even in the same league as us. Adytum is in a class of its own. I mean, if you can just walk into a club and pay a cover charge, it doesn’t scream exclusivity.”
Dylan nodded, though she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Maxi’s pride had clouded her judgment over the years since taking over the reins of Adytum. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. Adytum is the pinnacle of indulgence and luxury. We don’t need to worry about anyone else.”
She kept her thoughts to herself. It was a delicate subject to challenge Maxi’s perspective. Deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Adytum needed to evolve and attract a new generation of members if they wanted to maintain their status as the top destination for indulging in kink and pleasure.
Five years had passed since Maxi lured Dylan away from The Pendulum, where she had worked her way through college, to join Adytum as a bartender. With a lavish paycheck and the perks of working for one of the most prominent families in the city, Dylan followed Maxi and her enticing offer. Her boss was a beautiful creature with a strong facial structure and a long French braid that hung to the small of her back. At the time Maxi offered her the job, Dylan accepted it more so because she had hoped for a possible relationship with her. Instead, something incredible happened: she introduced Dylan to much more than the sea of spanking benches at The Pendulum.
That relationship never happened because Dylan leaned in the same direction as Maxi: a dominant who found solace in the wails of willing submissives who wanted a heavy hand and relentless domination.
Dylan stood from the chair and made her way toward the door. Just as her hand reached the doorknob, Maxi’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t forget, I want women who are willing to conform to our vigorous work ethic, not just pretty faces you want for a slap and tickle.”
She knew better than to choose someone based solely on her desire to sleep with them. However, that’s exactly what Maxi had done with plenty of the women who came to work for Adytum. The hiring process wasn’t a series of interviews but an audition in which the candidates submitted to the whims of Maxi in order to garner a place on the coveted roster and earn an impressive paycheck every week. It wasn’t often that positions opened up, but there were four to fill at this time: one dominatrix and three slaves.
The club buzzed with activity as employees worked diligently to prepare for the evening’s guests. Cleaning and polishing were just a few tasks on the checklist. Dylan took pride in ensuring everything met Adytum’s highest standards. After all, why should members pay a premium for anything less than an exceptional ambiance? Spotting a smudge on a windowpane, she called out, “I see a handprint here! Let’s get this cleaned up.”
A submissive hurried to the pane, wiping it and the rest of the glass until it shined. Every time an employee ran when she barked, Dylan’s backbone stiffened with a boost to her ego and a tickle to her fancy. Perks of the job.
On her way to her office, the double doors to the stairwell swung open, revealing Lady Katrina making her entrance from the private elevator. Without her jet-black wig, her long, mousy brown hair swayed with each gracious step, commanding admiration from all. Despite being a Domme, Dylan kneeled as the Madame stepped into the building—a must for everyone employed by the company, though Maxi would never publicly state it was a rule.
“Get up from there,” Lady Katrina said, lifting Dylan’s chin when she stopped in front of her. “I know you don’t submit that easily. If you did, I would have already taken you home with me and eaten you up, you sexy, little morsel.”
Dylan rose to her feet, her height towering over the petite but mighty Mistress. With a chuckle at the remark, she tugged at her suspenders, liking the compliment. “Just trying to make you feel at home, Lady Katrina. It’s an honor to have you performing tonight. I’ve made sure they filled your dressing room with your favorite flowers and wine: peonies and Cabernet. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“Thank you, Dylan. I appreciate the effort. I’m sure it will be a memorable night.” She strolled away as she trailed her long black fingernail over Dylan’s cheek, digging in just enough to leave a noticeable trail that would fade away in a minute or two.
