Page 2 of Twisted Devotion
As the word Dominatrix leaves the coordinator’s mouth, I feel the air of Audrey’s hair whipping around. “Dominatrix?! Did she just say, Dominatrix?”
I give her one more devious smile, because a woman Dominatrix is every reason why Audrey wanted to come to a sex club in the first place. “Yes, Darlin’, now let’s go meet our Dominatrix for the evening.”
* The Apparition-Sleep Token
* In The Night- The Weeknd
CHAPTER
TWO
STEVIE
I’m doing my mental checklist of the things that need refilled in my room, and I huff probably way too dramatically. The least they could do is check if these things were completely out, right?! They’re the most important items we have in our rooms and the main things clients use while here.
“My room needs condoms and lube!” I yell down the hallway, hoping to the devil herself that she lights a fire under their ass because we open in fifteen minutes, and I have a married couple on the books for then.
?*Sin’s has been nothing but amazing to work at, and the only complaint I can muster up is that refills aren’t done often enough. But it’s always spotless here, and everyone is beyond nice to work with. Security is top notch, and I never have to worry about clients being rude or unruly. It’s not accepted here. One strike policy, and people don’t fuck up once they make it through those doors.
Kerri, the front desk coordinator, pokes her head in my door. “Your eight o’clock appointment moved to tomorrow, but we moved another couple over.”
My brows raise slightly in curiosity. “Thank you. Have they been clients of mine before?”
“No, ma’am.” I know it’s just Kerri’s Southern charm, but the “ma’am” shit makes me want to crawl in a hole and die.
“Fresh meat… got it.” I nod and continue setting my room up.
She takes that as her hint and heads back to the front desk, and I grab my phone to look at the client’s information they’ve provided in their questionnaire. Everyone who enters through the doors here must submit one before gaining access to the club.
Boden and Audrey.
Cute.
The names seem familiar, but I shove that thought to the back of my mind. I’m almost a thousand miles from my hometown… there’s no way.
As a Dominatrix, we don’t have access to clients’ last names for confidentiality reasons, and they don’t know who we are either. Plus, my hot-pink balaclava protects my identity completely, and a lot of the time I’m beyond thankful for this face covering.
The last birth I attended as a student midwife, the piece-of-shit baby daddy was one of my clients the night before. I, of course, had no clue the sorry excuse of a man was married and expecting a baby, let alone one of the birth center’s patients. It took everything in me to stay professional, but I did it. And that’s some married-folks’ business, but this wife had no clue.
I move to the mirror to snatch up one of the many balaclavas I keep in here and slide it over my head. With practiced ease, I move my long black hair to frame my chest, and the rest drapes down my back.
The holes to the mask only show my smokey, black-lined eyes, and my deep burgundy, matte lipstick. My outfit consists of the least amount of leather one can wear. And the black strapsare custom-made for my body. It was the first thing I splurged on after graduating from nursing school and being accepted into the midwifery program.
Being a Madam paid my way, but the dopamine I get from this job alone is enough to keep me here for a lot longer than I need to be. Not that there’s anything wrong with sex work, but the money is stupid good, and being fed tears and orgasms?
Yeah, there’s nothing better.
I hear footsteps outside my door before the door handle slowly pushes down. The love I have for new clients getting to experience Sin’s, and me as their Dominatrix, really puts me on an ego trip I don’t need to be on.
As the door opens and shuts, I stay facing the mirror, giving them my back until I hear it click back into place. I love to take the power position from the get-go, so they never have to wonder who’s in charge when they’re in my room.
I spin on my black platformed Doc Martens to take them in from the floor up.
?*When my eyes rake up to their faces, every ounce of blood in me feels like it turns to cement.
Fuck.
Fuck.
