SIR

Genre: Dark Romance, Billionaire, BDSM, Mafia, Dual Identity

Blurb:

By day, Nora Ellis is the efficient, sharp-tongued secretary to the elusive billionaire, David Reid. By night, she becomes Mistress Scarlet – the masked dominatrix who commands The Red Room.

Her two lives never touch.

Until the night her boss walks into her world as a new client.

David's no stranger to control: by day, he's the ruthless CEO with a hidden mafia empire; by night, he's her most demanding client, unaware the masked submissive he craves is the woman who knows his every secret. What starts as forbidden pleasure turns into a dangerous obsession, one that blurs the lines between power, pain, and love.

As enemies close in and Nora’s past resurfaces, she must decide which part of herself to save… the woman he commands, or the woman who could destroy him.

Trigger Warning: This story contains explicit BDSM scenes (including dominance/submission dynamics, impact play, restraint, and sensory deprivation), graphic depictions of gun violence and murder, kidnapping attempts, mafia-related threats and organized crime elements, alcohol use, and themes of secrecy, betrayal, and emotional manipulation. Reader discretion is advised – safe, sane, and consensual practices are emphasized, but content may be intense for some.

ONE: Mr. Reid is Hot

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of smutty fiction and should not be construed as anything other than smutty fiction. This is not a how-to guide on BDSM, bondage, or relationships. The author doesn't claim to be an expert on anything kink related and urges interested parties to be smart, be safe, and do their own independent research on the topic.

If you’re here just for smut, it begins about 5k words in or so. HOWEVER!! I would urge you to read the whole thing because while writing it, my intention was to create sexual tension out the wahzoo, and though I’m an amateur, I think the build up makes the real thing so much more delicious, and the tension is so spicy in itself ;)

However you’d like to read this story, though, please enjoy, and feel free to leave comments! With enough feedback I will definitely continue, and even without it, I probably still will bc tbh I think I need to get this out of my system.

Enjoy sinners ;)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There’s no explanation for it.

I love my day job, really. But there’s something about my evening activities that just ignites everything in my soul. It’s as though everything in my life, all the crap, all the shit, once I step foot in that building at 10pm, it all fades away. The only thing left is excitement, adrenaline, anticipation.

And I am completely in control.

But like I said, I also love my day job. Especially the person I work directly for.

As the secretary for Mr. Reid, the CEO of Reid Global, a multi-million conglomerate that has a hand in a lot of sectors – energy, science, politics, sales, I’m exposed to a lot of the business, but I also know that there’s a lot that I don’t know, a lot that I’m not important enough in the hierarchy to know.

Spending a year working for him though, I feel like I’ve come to know him somewhat, and I definitely know his reputation. His reputation paints him as a stoic businessman with no serious attachments, some thinking he’s too young for the job at only 31, but nobody can fault that he gets results where they’re needed.

Personally, I know that he’s kind. At least, he is to me.

I walk into his office without even knocking, a gesture that quickly became forgotten after my first few weeks. David and I (or Dave, as I call him when it’s just the two of us) connected quickly and easily, and here I am a year later, having never regretted a second of it.

He’s on the phone, as he usually is, but I set about my usual duties. Replacing the cold cup of coffee on the table with a new one, that he'll likely still forget about, tidying up the files on his desk as he paces the room yelling to whoever he's on the phone to, and setting his schedule for tomorrow beside his computer.

I glance up at him as I finish up, reminding myself of the other reason I enjoy the job so much.

Mr. Reid is hot.

His suit jacket has been discarded on one of the chairs, but he's still in his shirt, waistcoat, dress trousers and smart shoes. He is the epitome of what CEOs look like, but his dark hair makes his sharp blue eyes stand out from across the room, and I secretly love the fact that he always seems to buy shirts in the wrong size, making his muscles stretch the fabric slightly.

He catches me looking up at him, and smiles, then rolls his eyes and holds up a finger, telling me to wait, which tells me that he's already mentally over whatever conversation he's having.

I stand patiently behind his desk, my arms clutching the old files that he no longer needs, one hand clutching the two-hour-old coffee mug, waiting for him to finally hang up.

“I'm not telling you again, Owen, you were supposed to get this done two days ago. If the signed deal is not in my hands by one o’clock tomorrow, consider it your last day.” David snaps into the phone, before finally hanging up.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I told you weeks ago not to let Owen on this, Dave.” I say. He opens his eyes and chuckles, then heads over to me.

“I know you did, but I can’t let the heads know that I take strategy advice from my secretary. They’ll think I'm going soft.” He replies with as he picks up the fresh coffee and takes a sip.

“Well, your lowly secretary is on the floor more than you, so maybe you should listen to her in the future.” I reply, walking round the desk and passing him. “I’ll even let you take the credit.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” He responds, putting his coffee down, then turning to lean back against his desk as he watches me walk towards the door. “All finished for the day?”

“I am, yes.” I say as I stop walking. “I’ve left the Vance file out for you though, you need to–”

“Ugh, I know.” He groans, rubbing his face over his hands.

“He wants a meeting next week.”

“Tell him I'm busy.”

“I’ve told him that for two months.” I laugh, walking back over to him. “He just wants your initial proposal, so put aside your distaste for him and deal with it.” I order as I come to stand in front of him.

He licks his bottom lip as he looks down at me with a raised eyebrow.

Any other bosses, and I’d be terrified of talking to them this way. Dave and I though? This is normal for me, the friendly banter. The eyebrow and the lip thing is also just a habit for him, one that I never want him to stop.

“I’ve done a draft for you already.” I add, making his face drop.

“You have?” He asks as he reaches round to pick up the file and scan through it.

I laugh as I start heading back to the door. “Of course I have, because you were never going to.”

“This is shit, Nora!” He frowns, pointing at the pages.

“Oh, I know, I made it shit so that you’d be motivated to correct it.” I explain with a grin. He rolls his eyes.

“Sneaky. You up to much this evening?” He asks, even though his attention is already back at the crap proposal, and he is already picking up his pen to edit it. It means that he doesn’t notice my body tense slightly.

“Not really. Same old. You?” I ask politely.

“Pretty sure it’ll be some more of this.” He says with a slight sigh as he sits down in his chair and dumps the file onto his desk. He looks up at me with a small smile on his lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning.” I echo, and then I leave.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Four hours later, I'm walking into the other building that I spend the other half of my life in. I breathe in the familiar scent, observe the familiar faces, and enjoy the familiar feeling of excitement starting to spread through me. There's just nothing like it.

At my day job, I'm acting a role. Nora Ellis, secretary to Mr. Reid. Seen but not heard. No one I'd think to look at twice.

Here though? Here, I go by a different name, a different part of my personality, and I certainly am not overlooked, especially with my iconic purple and black lace mask that everyone has come to know so well.

It's a simple mask, covering the area around my eyes, lace falling delicately over my cheeks, the ribbon tied at the back with droplets of black gems adorned over the edges. It stands out against the red wig I also wear, another aspect that everyone has come to know me by.

I nod to the guards at the staff door, allowing them to open it for me before walking through. I head straight to greeting and hugging the others that also work here, before we all start filing out to the main room. I quickly take note of the regulars, the newbies, each girl’s area to cover for the night, and give a nod to the bartender, who instantly starts on my drink.

I don’t own the place, but others regard me as being third in charge. Selena, the real red-head, is in charge. She owns the place. Second in charge is Nico. He stays behind the bar, acting like a regular bartender, but if anything happens, he's there in a split second, and can chuck out anyone, even if they're twice his size.

After that is me, unofficially. I have simply been here long enough that everyone assumes I'm part of management, and my close relationships with Sel and Nico strengthen that assumption. Either way, I think of this place as my second home sometimes, losing count of the times that Sel, Nico and I end up sleeping over once the doors are closed, bunking in her office when I'm in between rental apartments, knowing that if I ever need anything, this place is here.

I take a deep breath, smiling to myself as I lean on the bar, preparing myself for a fun-filled night of debauchery.

I really love working in a BDSM club.

TWO: The Role I Take On As Mistress...

Nobody that I know in my real life knows I work here as well as Reid Global, except for Sel and Nico. My wig and my mask see to that. Even after my first few days, I decided to keep it a secret. Not just for my own personal safety, (in case any angry regulars catch me in the street and expect something just because I do it in the evenings), but because I'm fully aware of the assumptions that would be made.

I mention fetish club to anyone that doesn’t already work in the sex industry, and I know I’d be asked whether it means I'm a prostitute, or a p**n star, or whether I do all the things from that god-awful infamous film that made everyone think they are suddenly into BDSM.

No, these clubs work very differently. There's a process, a procedure, that enables Sel (and sometimes me) to screen potential members. There are fees to ward off the drunk ‘lads’ thinking I'm just a stripper. There are introductory sessions, matching the workers with the clients' interests. There are security measures in place. There are guards. Each worker has something on them that works as a silent alarm if needed. Workers never go to clients' homes, or secondary locations. It all happens in the club. And the things that happen at the club are all discussed beforehand between the workers and the clients, gathering consent at every possible step. The actual sex part of the evening usually only happens once a worker and their client have been together for a while, and built a layer of trust in their relationship.

The people that come here are more looking for a release of control, a way to forget the limitations of their days, their responsibilities. There are ways of enabling them to forget about all that, and a lot of the ways don’t involve just getting fucked.

The role I take on is a Mistress. Sometimes I'm a sub, but that is very rare for me, and it has to be a very, very special client for me to consider that. I also come here looking for release, and the members usually do not have the skills to dominate me in the way I ever want. So, I take control. Five nights a week. That way, I can control my own release as well as theirs. It works for me, and it has worked for years.

For the last year though, I've been finding it harder and harder to expel all of my frustrations through my evening job, and it then translates over to my day job. I know the reason, and so does Sel. She likes to bring it up every now and then, and tonight is one of those times.

“I think you should just do it. Just kiss him one day.” She says bluntly as she shuffles the papers on her desk. I'm sitting opposite her, lounging in the velvet armchair as if I own it.

Which I do. I bought it for her.

“I'm not going to kiss my boss.”

“But you’ve had the hots for him since day one.”

“He's my boss!” I say, repeating the same argument I raise every time she mentions it.

“Maybe he has the hots for you.”

“Like fuck. He’s got like, a bajillion dollars, and he always has meetings with these women that look like they have permanent photoshop on them. It'd be so embarrassing if I even think about trying anything, let alone doing it.”

“Yeah but you’re not exactly plain Jane are you?” She says with a raised eyebrow.

“I didn’t say that. I know I'm hot. I'm just not…CEO Mr. Reid level hot.” I sigh as I let my head fall back onto the chair.

“Well you gotta do something, because you’re burning through clients like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“They’re just so boring!” I huff as I move to sit up. “‘Oh Mistress, please can I have the flogger? I didn’t drink enough water, please punish me!’. Like, just shut up Casey, you don’t drink enough every bloody week. I’ll fucking punish you just for being annoying.”

Sel laughs from the other side of the desk.

“I'm telling you, you need to do something to change things up. I can’t keep looking at their puppy dog eyes when I tell them that you’ve gone to other people. Maybe you should go back to subbing?” She queries with a shrug.

“You know I hate that with these members. Not that we have shit members but…”

“But you’re very picky, I know, I know.” She sighs. She puts the papers down that are in her hands. “But pretty soon, you’ll have gone through all the appropriate options, then what? You’re still frustrated, and then I can’t pay you to just be sitting around.”

“You already pay Nico for that.” I mumble with a grimace.

“Funny. Seriously though Nora, you either need to kiss Reid, or get over yourself. You can’t be moping for another year, I won’t allow it.”

“I'm not moping, I'm just…” I exhale loudly. “Bored. I need some excitement. A change. Maybe I should start doing the dances?”

“Absolutely not. You have no rhythm for that. I’d start losing customers.” She laughs and I frown, picking up one of her pens and chucking it over at her. “Right come on, time for you to work. I have a potential coming in this evening and I need you to do introductions.”

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“Because none of your remaining clients are due until tomorrow, and you need to do some actual work while you’re here.” She orders, gesturing for me to leave. “Plus he was an anonymous call, so I need to be on the cameras in case. You’ve got Mia and Kai nearby as well.”

I stand, grumpily, reluctantly. I grab my wig and pull it over my hair, going to her mirror to make sure it's sitting right, and tuck away any visible strands. She comes over to help me with my mask, tying it neatly at the back of my head, then pinning it in place. She also tugs at my corset strings.

“Hey, you trying to kill me?!” I chuckle as it tightens.

“Oh, stop being a baby. We both know you like it tight.” She says, in a very motherly tone before she leans forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Now, go get me a new member. Nico will point him out.”

I leave her office, walking slowly down the stairs and thinking over my dire situation. Sel is right, I need to suck it up. The question is, which job do I wanna suck it up in?

As I enter the main area, I instinctively cast my eye over the floor, noting the patrons that I both know, and do not know. I also spot a few of my previous clients, whose eyes visibly light up as I walk past. I hold my head high and ignore them, knowing it'll send them crazy.

“Nico!” I call as I reach the bar, making him rush over from the customer he's serving. “New client?” I ask.

“That one. Hugo Boss suit, I can tell from a mile away that he’s a big ticket.” Nico explains as he points. I roll my eyes as I turn to follow his finger.

Big ticket guys always have the money to spend, but I find that aside from ‘being punished’, none of them really know what they want from me. It's exhausting. Seems like all that money cost them a few brain cells.

My eyes follow Nico’s finger, as I try to pick out the suit he's talking about. I feel a rush of dread run through me as I clock who it is.

Mr. Reid.

THREE: I Think That Depends On The Person

“Absolutely not!” I gasp, turning back to Nico, leaning over the bar and grabbing his walkie-talkie from his waistband. “Sel!” I hiss into the device.

“What? Is he really ugly?” Comes her voice through the crackly speaker.

“It’s fucking David!” I spit back.

“Stop it! You’re joking?” The walkie-talkie clicks, telling me she’s let go of the button, and I can imagine her swinging round in her chair, clicking through the camera screens on her computer to try and spot him.

“Holy shit.”

“I'm not doing this.” I say into the device as I quickly look back over my shoulder at him.

Yep, it's definitely him.

He's watching Violet, who's dancing on the pole at the moment, sipping a glass of whiskey, completely unaware that his secretary is 20 feet away from him.

“Look I really need to get payroll done, and I meant it when I said that you have to do something tonight. You just need to do the introduction stuff, it’s not like I’ll set you up with him.” Sel says to me, and I close my eyes, my head thumping onto the bar as Nico just watches with his arms folded over his chest.

“He won’t recognise you.” Nico says. “And if he does, I’ll come and grab you before he can say anything.”

I look at Nico, knowing that he will do exactly as he says. He’s done it multiple times for me, grabbing me when situations have gotten a bit hairy. I really can’t help thinking that this is a very, very bad idea though.

The introductions aren’t exactly… hands off.

“I’ll give you a night off from Casey.” Sel says through the walkie-talkie. “Hell, I’ll give you a night off altogether. Come on babes.” She urges. “I don’t trust anyone else to do intros, you know that.”

“You fucking owe me.” I hiss back to her, throwing the device onto the bar top. Nico picks it up and holds it to his mouth.

“You’ll have eyes on her?” He asks Sel.

“Fuck yeah. I'll be damned if I miss a second of what happens next.” She laughs in response. I give Nico a look, a pointed look, but he just reclips the walkie to his waistband then shrugs.

“You know she means it in a nice way.” He says, his mouth trying desperately to stop the smile that's threatening to creep over his lips. “Probably.” He sniggers once, then stops himself.

I glare at him, then I spin on my heel, and walk away from him.

Breathing as I walk, I think about all the things I have to do. I also think about all the things I should do, but can probably get away with not doing, because I don’t want to be doing them with my boss.

Conversation? Fine. Seeing the rooms? Also fine.

Getting his desires out of him? That may be toeing the line. Trying out some ‘green light’ toys? Nope. Definitely not.

I try to take another breath as I get closer to the back of his chair, but I find that this one feels particularly difficult. I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the nerves, and self-consciously touch my mask and my wig, making sure that they're still in place.

Here we go, I think. Just another customer. Just any old, run-of-the-mill customer.

I place myself to his side, my weight transferring to my right leg, putting my hands on my hips, and clear my throat, the soft volume of the music making me audible to him.

He turns, and, just like usual, his eyes freeze on my outfit.

Wearing these corsets always makes me feel more confident. And who wouldn’t, with the way that people look at me in them?

The corset itself is a deep purple, with black lace detailing over the cups and snaking down my stomach, to match my mask. The way I tighten them gives me a perfect hourglass shape, with the swell of my breasts threatening to spill out of the top. It has a small skirt that fans out at the bottom, which I always pair with matching purple and black hipster style panties, suspender straps connected to skin-coloured stockings with a simple black lace band, and a practically sheer, satin black robe. It's the perfect mixture of showing off the goods without showing very much at all.

The responses are the same every time. Guys drool over the lingerie, particularly the boob area, and only look up when I speak.

I wait to see what he'll do.

His eyes flick down to my heels, and travel back up, quicker than I'm used to. He barely pauses at my chest, his eyes instead finding mine in mere seconds. I swallow, trying to make it as subtle as possible, trying to not give away that his blue eyes are making me warm.

He stands suddenly, leaving his glass on the table beside his chair, buttoning his suit jacket up and steps forward so that he's in front of me.

Then he holds his hand out.

I look down at it, wanting to laugh. No one has ever offered to shake my hand before.

“Reid. David Reid.” He says, his familiar, smooth voice running over my entire body.

I flick my eyes back up to his, seeing them not wavering an inch, and I step forward, sliding my hand into his and squeezing it gently.

“Nice to meet you, David.” I reply coolly, dropping my voice a note or two in the hope that he won’t recognise it. Not that I ever call him David anyway.

He brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my knuckles gently, respectfully. His eyes look between mine as I drop his hand.

“I hear you’re interested in becoming a member of The Red Room?” I query, and he nods once. “Then please, follow me.” I say confidently, already walking towards a side booth, knowing he'll follow me.

They always follow me.

I settle into the booth, sitting dead in the middle of the sofas, resting my hands on either side of me, leaning back slightly as I watch him with careful eyes as he analyses the seats. He decides to take the seat opposite me, and I smirk.

As he unbuttons his suit jacket to sit comfortably, I find myself watching the movement, my tongue darting out across my bottom lip to cover up the feeling of them being suddenly dry.

He leans back, and I can see the infamous arrogance he usually exudes is starting to come through from the way he rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand coming to his mouth, his finger gliding over his lip as he stares at me.

I hold his gaze, even when Nico stops by to put my drink down, and one down for him, even when I thank him and he walks off. I pick up my glass, a gin martini, and take a sip, keeping him in my sights over the rim of the glass.

I put the glass down.

“Who recommended you?” I ask, finally breaking the tense silence.

“Does that matter?” He counters.

“Yes.” I admit. “Some clients have been blacklisted. We have to make sure that any of their associates are also not permitted.” He breathes a couple of times before answering.

“Kieran Voss.” He states, and I feel my stomach lurch uncomfortably.

I didn’t know that Kieran was a member. Maybe he's assigned to one of the other girls. Kieran works in the IT department at the office.

Now I can never look at him the same way.

Just like I won’t be able to look at Mr. Reid the same way anymore.

“And what is it that you think we do here?” I ask, trying to divert my brain from images of Kieran in one of these rooms.

“Aren’t you supposed to be telling me that? Selling it to me or something?” He says, smirking, while also narrowing his eyes at me. Like he's suspicious of the business model.

I smile a tiny bit to hide my scoff.

“We find that a lot of people who come here, they come with preconceived notions of what they're expecting. I can tell you in two seconds whether we can meet those expectations. So, Mr. Reid,” I say, allowing my breath to come through my words a little, leaning forward on the sofa, and slowly crossing one leg over the other, before clasping my hands around my knees. “Please share.”

The position I get myself in makes the ‘girls’ squish together, and is usually a very subtle tactic to make the client get into the right… mood.

I smirk when I see his eyes flick down for a split second. He shifts a little in his chair, and takes a sip of his whiskey. Then he leans forward to place it on the table, and rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasping together in front of him.

Seems that both of us are engaging in positional play.

“I've heard that people can come here, explore their desires, and leave their day to day behind.” He says simply.

“And what exactly are your desires?” I ask automatically. It's the question I have to ask everyone, so it comes naturally from the conversation. Only after I say it, do I realise that I just asked my boss what he wants, sexually.

I feel warm.

“I think that depends on the person.” He replies with a tilt of his head.

FOUR: I Want To Dominate

I am not surprised at his vague answer. He's never been open about his personal life in all the time I've known him.

“How does it work, with getting assigned someone?” he asks.

I lean forward to pick up my drink again.

“If we get to the point where we’d consider your application, we have some forms that you need to fill out.” I take a sip. “We ask you about your experience, things that you’re interested in, things that you’re not.”

His eyebrow twitches at that, and I wonder if there is much that he wouldn’t be interested in trying.

“Then we have profiles for everyone that works here, and we match you to someone who is the most suitable to your… needs.” I explain. “We complete background checks, and as long as nothing comes back, you can begin as soon as your first payment clears.”

“I'm sure it’ll clear.”

“I have no doubt. I am not oblivious to who you are, Mr. Reid.”

This time his eyebrow does raise at me. I give him a closed-lipped smile, suddenly feeling a lot more confident in this scenario than I did at the start.

“What do you need to see to consider my application?” He asks.

“I need to see what you want.” I say coyly, putting my drink down and standing up.

He instantly stands as well.

I walk up to him, as he keeps his eyes locked on me, and when I'm right in front of him, I take my eyes off him to put my hand on his chest. It's another tactic that helps my clients get into the atmosphere, and while I’ve previously written this off as something I'm not going to do to my boss, as the conversation progressed, I find myself itching to touch him.

So I do.

My hand runs down his chest, then I slide it across his stomach until my fingers are running down his forearm. I flutter my eyes back up to look at him, feeling a rush of excitement at seeing him staring down at me, and I take the glass out of his hand, bending slightly to put it on the table beside me.

“Follow me.” I whisper when I straighten back up, and once again, I head off across the room, knowing he's already following me.

I pass the bar, and Nico holds up two different numbers on his fingers – 2, and 4. A silent gesture to tell me which rooms are occupied, and will show Mr. Reid the opposite ends of what I can provide here.

Each room in the club has a mirror. A one-way mirror. There is the door that the staff and the clients enter from, on the opposite side to the mirror. Behind the mirrors is a walkway, only accessible by a door that only workers have a key to. The door is also conveniently next to the guard’s post, so that they can monitor who goes in and out. It isn’t usual for clients to be here by themselves, not everybody consents to being watched.

The rooms that Nico tells me though, those clients have agreed to being watched in their applications.

I nod to Kai at the post, who smiles back at me. I unlock the door, pushing it open, and glancing behind me to see David not even two steps behind me.

The hallway is dimly lit, but once I unveil the one-way mirrors, they let more light in. As I walk, I continue my screening process.

“What are you primarily interested in?” I ask.

“What are the options?” He counters, and I turn back to look ahead so that I can hide my smile. I know these debating skills from the boardrooms – getting others to answer first.

“The main aspects are either domination, or submission. We get a lot of clients interested in both, some have a particular… fondness for one over the other. Then we explore your specific interests within each dynamic. You just need to choose which role you take.” I stop walking as I reach Room 2, and turn to face him. He stops in front of me. So close to me that I can almost feel his suit grazing me.

“I’ve never been very good at submitting.” He says with a playful look on his face.

“You would be surprised how many businessmen think that, and then it turns out to be the one thing they needed.” I whisper, making the look fall off his face. I reach out to my side, and flick a switch, the switch that reveals the room through the mirror to me. His head immediately turns.

Then he steps forward as he takes in the scene.

Harper is sitting in a plush armchair, eating an apple, with one of her clients kneeling on the floor beside her. His neck is enclosed with a collar, a lead attached, which she is keeping loosely looped around her wrist as she ignores him. David watches with curiosity as the client looks up at her, then quickly back at the ground, but she notices anyway.

“Did I say you could move, Dylan?” Harper asks in a deceitfully sweet voice.

“No, I'm sorry, my love, I'm so sorry.” The client rushes to say, his gaze going back to the floor.

But Harper doesn’t let it slide. She gets out of the chair, tugging on the lead to make him follow her. She puts her apple down and picks up the riding crop from the table, turning back to him.

“Down.” She orders, and Dylan immediately presses his face to the ground, her foot coming to rest on his shoulder blade, allowing her access to his ass as it raises in the air.

“This is submission?” David asks, his voice breaking slightly in the middle of his words, and his eyes not leaving the scene as the sharp whip resounds through the room as it makes contact with Dylan’s skin.

I step forward, running my hand up his arm, over his shoulder, and down his back, leaning into his ear.

“He isn’t very good at it, but yes. He’s the submissive.” I whisper. I don’t miss the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “They have been working together for a long time, so it isn’t always evenings full of sex. This brings him just as much pleasure, the rules, the structure, knowing when he’ll get punished, and what for. He also has a thing for heels, so she's making sure that he focuses on those.”

I take my hand off him as I see him breathe deeply.

“Like I said, a lot of businessmen prefer this aspect. Their days are so chaotic that they need this predictability to really let go.” I say, before clicking the switch off, and bringing his attention to me. I turn to head to Room 4, leaving him in silence to think over what he just observed.

As I reach Room 4, my hand hovers over the switch, and it isn’t until I feel his body close to my shoulder, that I switch it on.

This scene is different.

Sophia, my colleague, is tied upright in a box frame, her hands and feet at each corner, spreading each limb as far as possible. The client, someone I know is relatively new to the club, is tying a blindfold over her, kissing her gently before moving away, and I see her smile.

Dominants are never dominant enough here, I think, and I know she's thinking the same. They always try to make sure they're soft enough to not cause me pain, to make sure we're okay in between.

As the client moves to the desk, I notice the difference in David’s reaction. Room 2 was curiosity. Observation. This room however, I notice his eyes fixed on Sophia, running over the frame, her position. I notice his chest moving in a more pronounced way. Slow, but noticeable. Like he's trying to control his breathing.

The client picks up a nine tails. It's one of my favourites too. Feeling the dull ache in my core, I suddenly feel a little desperate to do something. To touch something.

And the only thing in the vicinity, is Reid.

I run my hand over his shoulder, then push gently, urging him to sit on the stool in front of the mirror. He does it without even looking back at me, and that action alone makes me bite my lip. I move behind him, the other hand moving to his other shoulder, and I take my time sliding them over him, over towards his chest, my mouth going to his ear.

“This client is new, so it’s more about exploring bodies, finding out what works for him, for her.” I whisper, my fingers expertly undoing the top two buttons of his shirt, while he just stares blissfully ahead.

I slide my hand under his shirt, my fingernails grazing over his skin, and I want to close my eyes as I feel the hairs, the muscles under my palm. I can feel the slight thump of his heartbeat as the client walks around Sophia, dragging the ends of the nine tails over her skin, both of us watching her shiver and squirm in the restraints.

When his hand suddenly grabs my wrist, I freeze. Then I remove my hands, walk around him, and flick the switch off. I only need to give potential new members a taste, and we’ve both had that by now.

He clears his throat and stands, adjusting his waistband as subtly as he can. The movement isn’t subtle to me however, as I've seen hundreds of men do it in a hundred different ways.

“So, what seems the most interesting for you, Mr. Reid?” I ask as smoothly as I can with him staring down at me, his pupils blown wide.

“That one.” He breathes, and I nod, half expecting that answer. “Do I get to choose who I match with?”

“We can note it down, but if the person you want doesn’t share your preferences, there isn’t much I can do.”

“What about you?” He asks, stepping forward.

“What about me?” I say, with a slight stutter that I internally curse myself for.

“I want to dominate. And I want to dominate you.”

FIVE: I Said No

I blink at him as I process his statement. He just stares back at me, a hungry look in his eyes, his tongue toying with his bottom lip.

“I…” I clear my throat. “I am afraid I'm not available.” I manage to say, although it comes out in a barely audible, breathy whisper. He raises an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because I'm not looking to be dominated.”

I see his teeth clench, the muscle twitching in his jaw.

“If you’d still like to consider this, I can find you someone who–”

“I’ll pay double.” He interrupts.

“Excuse me?”

He steps forward. I step back.

“I’ll pay extra. For you.”

“I'm not a submissive.” I repeat.

“Never?” He smirks, his hand coming up to my face, his fingers grazing my cheek, just below the lace of my mask. “Not even once?”

I open my mouth, then I close it. I don’t want to lie to him. I always tell him the truth at the office, and now I'm finding that I also can’t lie to him here, out of some kind of moral stance. He smiles, sliding his hand to my neck and tugging me closer, his lips almost touching mine.

“What will it take for you to consider submitting to me?” He asks in a whisper.

In this moment? Not a whole lot.

In general? I'm not sure. If the other clients get wind of me being dominated it could impact my reputation, and then my clients could leave.

I take hold of his wrist, and guide his hand away from my neck, trying to maintain a blasé expression on my face. Once he drops his hand, I clasp mine together in front of me.

“Like I said, fill out the forms, and note your preference. If we can’t accommodate it, you have the option to withdraw.” I say robotically.

“My preference isn’t a suggestion. I want you, or nothing.”

I want to melt into the floor at his words, but I force my jellified legs to start walking to the door instead. As I exit the walkway, opening the door back to the main room, he steps out, and I walk over to Kai.

“Please, can you give Mr. Reid the new member forms?” I ask the guard politely, still trying to shake off the fact that the adrenaline is bubbling through my body.

I can feel him standing behind me. I can feel his breath over my neck as Kai hands me the pack. I whip round, determined to not let Mr. Reid’s gorgeous face interrupt my professionalism, and hand him the pack.

“I hope we see you again, David.” I say politely. He smiles.

“That depends on you, doll.” He replies, before turning away from me and heading to the front door, the forms firmly clutched in his hand. He looks back at me just after pushing the door open, and he gives me a wink.

I breathe in as he leaves, the door shutting too loudly in my opinion. Like I'm too aware of it. I race to the bar, as quickly as my walking speed can carry me. Nico already has a martini ready for me, which I gulp down.

“You okay?” He asks, the worry evident. I never act like this here. Like I'm…affected.

I just give him a thumbs up and keep drinking. He grabs his walkie.

“Sel, she’s coming up.” He says, watching me slam the now empty glass down, and race towards the door that leads up to the office.

“WHAT A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!” I yell as I throw her door open and storm in. She's sitting behind her desk, her eyes wide, everything tidied away in preparation for my return. “That was ridiculous Sel, I am NEVER–”

“What did he say?”

“What bit exactly?! Cause it was all–”

“After you showed him Room 4.” She clarifies, turning to her computer screen and clicking her mouse erratically. “You know we have no sound on these, but this?!” She swivels the screen round to show me the camera footage of him stepping towards me, his hand coming to my cheek.

It makes my face tingle with the memory.

“What the hell did he say to make your face look like that?”

“He…” I inhale. “He wants me.”

“I'm sorry?”

“He wants me. To dominate. He wants me to be his sub.” I mutter. Her eyes widen.

Then she starts laughing.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh my god, Nora, this is…God that is something.” She keeps laughing, rubbing her eyes. “Reid, your boss, who you have a crush on, wants to dominate you, the resident dominatrix? Jesus…” She starts laughing.

“SEL!” I yell, and she coughs, trying to sit up straight in her chair and put on a professional face.

“Right, no you’re right. Hmm.” She puts her finger on her mouth as she thinks. “What did you say back?”

“I said no, that I'm not a sub.”

“It’s not that you’re not ever a sub though–”

“He said he’d pay extra.”

“He did what now?” Her mouth drops open. “Extra?”

“Yeah, he wants to pay extra to have me. He said double.”

Sel and I share a silent look. I'm grimacing awkwardly, and her mouth is wide open in shock.

“No.” I say, as I watch the gears turning in her head. “Sel, I am not doing it.”

She finally closes her mouth, and breathes as she looks back at me. She taps her fingers on the desk.

“Let’s see what his questionnaire comes back with first. Emma’s a good sub, maybe she’ll match him.” Sel says quietly, as though she's saying it mostly to herself.

I nod, and excuse myself, aiming to go back to the bar and try and forget the encounter I just had with Mr. Reid.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next few days at work, I find that I can’t look him in the eye. Our conversations have suffered a little, becoming more awkward, more professional, and I find myself trying not to spend too much time at his side. Partly not wanting him to pick up on the fact that I'm the same girl from the club, but also because I keep thinking about his words. His touch. The way he looked at me when he was asking for me.

I'm not sure if he has returned his forms yet. Sel hasn't told me that he has, but maybe she's also not telling me about him in general after how I reacted. It isn’t until Sunday evening, one of my nights off, that she rings me while I'm at home watching TV.

“Sup bitch.” I say through a mouthful of pizza.

“I need you to be calm.”

I instantly stop chewing.

“Are you calm?” She asks. I swallow my food. “Earth to Nora?”

“What is it?” I ask. I hear her sharp inhale on the other end.

“He matched.”

I know she's talking about David. I lean forward to put my plate on the coffee table.

“Okay. And?” I ask, dreading the answer that I half know is coming.

“He’s a match for you.”

“You’re fucking shitting me.” I screw my eyes shut, and drop my head back.

“You know I keep your sub profile on the system just in case we got another Ethan. Looks like we have.”

I stand up, starting to pace around my living room as I think it over.

Mr. Reid matched me?

“There’s a couple of points where he’s one scale away from your answers, but that’s negotiable–” Sel continues.

“You’re not seriously thinking of suggesting I do this?” I snap.

“Do you remember our conversation earlier this week?” She asks. “You need something different. You haven’t subbed in a long time. It’s with your boss. Tell me that this isn’t the perfect scenario to add drama to your life?”

“This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” I groan.

“He’s also already called asking again if his request was taken into account. His request for you. And he’s offered an obscene amount of money to make sure it happens.”

“Sel!”

“I really don’t have a good reason to say no, Nora, and neither do you.”

“Apart from the fact that it could ruin my life? My day job?”

“With the amount he offered, you wouldn’t even need your day job.”

I pause. “How much?”

“You can look that over after your first meeting with him.”

“My first… did you already book it in?!”

“….Possibly.”

“SELENA!”

“Just come and talk to him. You can negotiate a special rate, what you will and won’t do, whatever you need. But you’re doing it, because you’re in a rut, and he apparently is perfect for you.”

“If it doesn’t go well, I'm quitting.”

“Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?” She replies, and I can hear her words being warped by a smile. “Tuesday, 9.30pm. Wear something special.”

SIX: Doubts About What?

The whole of Monday, and the whole of Tuesday, I find myself watching David at the office. Trying to work it all out.

He matches with me on everything.

Sel has emailed me a copy of his responses. Every single question, his answers are perfectly aligned with mine, and of the (very) few that don’t, he's only one scale away from me.

He’s had the Dom/sub relationship before. He isn’t interested in Tickle Torture, but rates Wax Play highly. He ticks almost all the bondage subcategories, except mummification. Sensory Play, Impact Play, Worships, all on the high end as well.

Needles are a no. Knives are a maybe. Surprisingly, the circle he’s put around ‘Average’ for voyeurism/cuckolding seems different. The ink is lighter. As though he isn’t sure. Denial and Edging are also average for him. They aren’t average for me, but I have easily pushed clients my way in the past.

Sel is right. He is fucking perfect for me.

And now, sitting next to him at the office while I diligently type notes of the meeting I’m currently in, I find my eyes glancing over to him more than I usually do. Thinking about meeting him that evening. Thinking about what I would say.

The thought of submitting to him is intriguing me more and more. But then the thought of submitting to anyone after so long is something I’m struggling with. I try to wonder how it would look, and then suddenly, that’s all I can think about.

“Nora?” He whispers, the sudden closeness of his voice in my ear making me jump.

“Hmm?” I look around, seeing everyone else looking at me. “My apologies.”

I look back to my laptop and hurriedly start typing again, finishing off the sentence I’d apparently stopped writing.

He clears his throat.

“How about we take lunch? Come back at one.” He says to the rest of the group. He stays in his seat as the others file out of the room. When the door closes behind the last one, he swivels in his chair to face me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his words littered with concern, his hand coming to rest on my thigh.

An innocent gesture. But it doesn’t seem so innocent now I know his Dom preferences.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I had a late night.” I reply as I rub my eyes.

It isn’t a lie, but I always have a late night, and I’m used to it by now. This time though, I had a late night because I was distracted.

And the thing that’s making me distracted is now grabbing my chair, and pulling it round so that I am facing him as well.

“You’ve been different for a few days now.” He comments with a tilt of his head. “Is something going on? Am I working you too hard?” He chuckles.

“Never.” I tease back. “It’s just something…personal. I’m sorry it’s affected my work.”

“You’re still the hardest working person here. Apart from me, possibly.” He smiles, and I feel myself wanting to smile back. “If you need a day off, just tell me.”

“I’m fine.” I reassure him. “I’m just going to get some coffee, I’ll be back to myself in no time, Dave.”

I force myself to act normal for the rest of the afternoon.

When I finally get home, I find that I can’t have my pre-evening nap because I’m busy staring at the ceiling, thinking over and over everything I’m going to say to him at the club, what he could say back.

Before I know it, I’m getting ready to head to the club.

Tonight I decide to wear a chemise, dark lace covering my nipples and pubic bone, the rest a sheer window to my skin. The top frames my chest with straps that cross over my collarbone up to my neck, and I have also slipped on some black hipsters underneath. I’m not known for walking around naked, and that isn’t going to change just for him.

Nico helps ensure my wig and mask are on right when I come to the bar. David is already waiting in Room 5, one that is used for the first meetings. It has a desk, with no chair behind it, but a chair in front of it, a set of drawers to the side, and a closet in the corner. The drawers and closet are filled with beginner toys, ones that workers use to ascertain levels of interest, ease the clients in. I’m not sure if I’m going to be using them tonight.

I make my way to the room.

I don’t miss the way his head turns instantly to the sound of me opening the door. The nerves flood through me as I close it behind me, as his eyes rake over my outfit. He goes to stand, but I hold a hand out, telling him to sit back down, and I walk slowly towards the desk.

I pick up the file that Sel left there earlier, and stand in between the front of the desk and him, smoothly lifting myself up so that I can sit on the wood, and crossing a leg over the other as I open the file, not even glancing at him.

“Does this mean you’ve accepted?” He asks, his voice cutting through the silence. I keep my eyes on the pages.

“It means I’m considering it. There’s still a lot to go through before I agree.” I reply calmly. “You were very thorough in your answers.”

“I wanted you to have no doubts.”

“Doubts about what?”

“What I’m interested in.”

I look up at him then, and it’s a big fucking mistake. He is staring at me, his eyes darker than usual, and I can tell that he just wants to grab me right then.

I tilt my head innocently, focusing back on the pages.

My teeth clench when I see in the preferences section, he’s crossed out the word ‘preference’ and just written ‘the Red Head with the mask. No exceptions.’

“Hard no’s are needles, genital torture, pony play and fluid play?” I ask, with a glance up at him. He nods. I scan back down the list. “Average is knives, denial… Your answer for voyeurism and cuckolding intrigues me.”

“How so?”

“The pressure of your pen changed.” I say in a matter-of-fact manner, smirking when his eyebrows raise in surprise. “Are you not certain of your views on that?”

He licks his bottom lip before answering.

“I’ve dominated someone before, but I’ve not done that before. I think it also differs based on what’s involved. Even if you agree, I’m not sure I’d want to watch you with other people.”

I close the file, holding it in one hand as I grip the desk, leaning forward towards him until I can take his tie in my hand, tugging him forward slightly, then sliding the material through my fingers as he looks up at me.

“Some people enjoy that, you know. Watching their sub being dominated by someone else, while you give them orders on how to please them the best.” I whisper in a smooth voice. “By that point, you’d know everything I enjoy, everything that makes me submit to you completely, and you could see if I do it just as easily for someone else. And you could punish me if I don’t.”

By the time I stop speaking, his mouth has parted, and his eyes are solely focused on my lips.

I smile, then release his tie and lean back, opening his file again, and picking up the pen from the desk. I make a note of changing his score to a higher one as we both fall into silence.

“What would you include in Worship?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, in a growl this time as I watch him shift in the chair.

“You rate it highly, so I’m interested in what parts of worship you enjoy. Kneeling? Certain body parts?”

“I took it more as me worshipping you.”

“In what sense?”

“I could show you.” He smirks, moving to sit up.

I place my foot on his shoulder and push him back.

“Tell me.” I order. While I am considering submitting to him, I’m so used to being the dom, and I’m intrigued on how he’d respond to it.

His response involves him smiling wickedly at me, and then running his hand around my ankle. I hold his gaze, my face a lot calmer than my stomach is at that moment.

“I’d like to worship you doll.” He explains. It makes my core throb. His hand slides up my leg towards my knee.

“It would be your reward, for being a good girl.” He continues, moving to the floor, pulling my leg so that it rests over his shoulder as he moves his mouth closer to my bare skin, his lips grazing me as he slowly inches forward.

My breaths get shallower as I just watch, watch him gently push my other leg slightly, his eyes locked on mine as he gets closer and closer to me.

I swallow the lump in my throat and grab his jaw, guiding him to stand up in front of me, denying myself the touch that he’s so clearly willing to give me. He towers over me as he stands, watching me for the next instruction.

“Have I passed your little test yet?” He whispers.

SEVEN: I Accept

I decide not to answer him just yet. Instead, I walk over to the closet that I told myself I won’t open tonight.

“If worshipping is the reward, I’d like to see the punishment.” I say, stepping back and gesturing with my hand to the closet.

He takes his suit jacket off, and I openly watch his muscles stretching his shirt fabric, just like at the office. There is a different energy here though.

Then he walks over to the closet, pausing in front of me for a second before turning to look at the objects fully. I step back to give him space to decide, heading back to lean on the desk as he chooses. The closet only holds the beginner toys, cuffs, floggers, and simple collars. It is about exploring the interests, and once preferences have been found, the harder and more complex toys can be brought in.

“The one in that Room that you showed me, it’s not here.” He says after a few seconds. My breath hitches in my throat.

Of course he’d want the nine tails.

“The Cat o’Nine tails is one that takes practice to use. We don’t bring it in until we both understand our boundaries.”

“So I’m just supposed to pick one and spank you?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

I sigh and walk back over to him.

“If I agree, you’ll be doing it very regularly, Mr. Reid.” I counter, making the arrogant look on his face disappear. “So we might as well start somewhere.”

I reach forward and pick up the leather flogger. “This one is similar to a nine tails. If you want to start with that.” I explain, handing it over to him.

He nods, but as I walk back over to the seats, he grabs something from the table.

I wait patiently for him to approach me, turning slightly when I hear the flogger hitting the desk.

That’s when I spot the blindfold in his hand.

He steps towards me, placing the material over my mask, covering my eyes. I feel his hands at the back of my head, tying it together, but I can also feel his breath on my cheek. It makes my skin shiver.

“Kneel.” He whispers into my ear.

The pure dominance in his voice causes a rush of wetness to soak my panties. My heartrate kicks up.

I breathe.

Then, I slowly put my hand on the side of the desk, and gracefully get to my knees, my hands resting on top like it is second nature.

“Is there anywhere I can’t hit you?”

“My face.” I say instantly with a smile at the chivalry of checking. “My day job wouldn’t appreciate it.”

I want to chuckle at the irony when suddenly, I hear the loud scrape of wood from my left, and reach a hesitant hand out.

He has moved the desk.

Another scrape, and I’m pretty sure it is the chair being moved, giving me space. Giving him space.

“Hand.” He orders, and I don’t need to question him on it. I hold my hand out, palm facing up, feeling the leather straps of the flogger grazing over it. “For someone who said they weren’t a sub, you’re very good at it.” He comments, my ears trying to pick up where in the room he is.

I smile at the praise, but say nothing.

Then the flogger snaps to my hand. I don’t flinch. I don’t move.

“Give me a scale on how hard it was.” He orders, his voice suddenly in my right ear.

I feel the excitement flood through me.

“3.”

He does it again.

“5.”

Again.

“5.” I repeat with a smirk, knowing he’s watching me.

“Are you being a brat on purpose?” He growls from somewhere above me.

“I’m being honest.” I explain. “It’s a poor substitute for the nine tails.”

I hear a thud on the floor, and assume he’s thrown the toy to the side.

I jump when his fingers wrap around my throat, and pulling my face within an inch of his.

“Maybe we should wait until you allow me to use that then.” He says in a low voice.

I can feel his breath on my lips, but the grip he has on my throat is making the blood thump in my ears, muffling the sound of his words slightly. He lets go, and I hear his footsteps crossing the room, and then a rummaging sound.

He’s getting something else out.

“Stand up.” He commands, and I shakily get to my feet as I hear him walk back over.

His fingers gently close around my wrist, tugging it to my back, and I soon feel cold metal snake around me. The cuffs.

I allow him to cuff my hands behind my back, and then he uses the restraint to pull me across the room. I blink behind my masks, eagerly waiting for what he’s going to do.

He steadies me for a second, then his hands are on my hips, guiding me to step forward. My knees hit something solid, making me pause. Sliding his hands down to my knees, he gently urges me to lift them, and I do, one by one, as he pulls them over him, either side of his lap, until I am straddling him while he sits in the chair.

The air is thick, silent, as we both wait. He stares up at me, waiting to spot a reaction, while I wait for his hands to move, for him to speak.

“Can I touch you?” He finally asks.

The plan is to talk, purely talk, work out his limits in line with mine. The plan is not to engage in any activities tonight.

And yet, I find myself nodding.

His fingers move up my thigh, delicately, as though he’s tracing an invisible pattern on my skin. I feel my hips trying to twitch, to move, roll over him, but I force myself to stay in place.

He pushes the bottom of my chemise up, the material bunching around my hips, the air breezing over my newly exposed skin. A finger trails over the line of my underwear. My heart is thudding in my chest as I wait, but he doesn’t keep me waiting long. His finger quickly runs over my clit, the material between us doing nothing to dull the sensation. My body shudders in response, and his other hand flies up to my neck, gripping it just as he has before. It makes my mouth fall open as I gasp, and he presses his hand harder against me.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. You need to answer every, single, one. Got it?” He growls, and I nod.

He starts moving his hand, rubbing my core through my underwear.

“What is off limits for you?”

I lick my lips, not sure how honestly to answer.

He rips his hand away from me, making my hips twitch in need.

“Answer me.” He demands.

“Not much.” I breathe, and then he puts his hand back on me. My head rolls back a little.

“Safewords?”

“That depends.” I reply. “Whenever I’ve subbed, usually my mouth is usually somewhat… preoccupied.” I say with a slight smile.

His fingers tighten on my neck.

“What do I call you?” Is his next question. I debate it as he continues to stroke my clit.

I feel my eyes roll to the back of ny head in pleasure.

“Whatever you decide.” I end up saying. His hand tugs on my neck, bringing my face down to his, where I can feel his breath on my lips.

“What are you usually called?”

“Mistress.” I pant. “But that wouldn’t exactly apply to us.”

I want to see his face, whether he’s smirking at my answer or not. Instead, all I can hear is silence, and all I can feel are his fingers at my core, teasing me, threatening to dip into my wetness. I want him to take my underwear off. I try rolling my hips to silently tell him what I want, but he doesn’t respond any differently.

“Have you decided to agree?” He asks, and my body tenses. I don’t reply. “Doll?” He growls, urging me to respond, but I don’t.

He takes his hand away. He takes his other hand from my neck. Then he’s reaching behind me, undoing the cuffs from my wrist. After I’m freed, he starts gently pushing my hips back, making me step down from his lap, and he takes my hands to help me stand.

I feel his fingers around my mask, carefully separating the top one from my bottom one, and he pulls it over my head. I blink back to the room, focusing on him standing in front of me. His gorgeous fucking face right in front of me, just running his eyes over me.

“What are you doing?” I frown.

“Let me know when you decide.” He says simply, taking my hand, bringing my knuckles to his mouth, and placing a kiss on them. I watch him in confusion as my body thrums with desire, wanting him to finish this.

He turns and walks towards the door. As I hear the handle click open, my brain finally jumps into action.

“Mr. Reid?” I call, making him freeze, and turn his head to look at me.

I breathe.

“I accept.”