Chapter 11: Lydia

My hands shake when I open the door after hearing a soft knock. Raul and Carl stand waiting. Raul's whistle makes me blush.

His eyes travel over my ensemble several times. "Wow, Chiquita, I so want to play."

"It's Mistress to you," I snap in my Domme voice. It's time for the show and I won't take any shit from Raul for the rest of the night. He knows I won't discipline him but I have no problem finding someone who will.

"Yes, Mistress." I hear the smile in his voice, the jerk.

I turn to Carl. "Are my personal items set up?"

"Yes," he replies and I arch an eyebrow.

Raul answers next. "I made sure everything is the way you like but my work was overseen, Mistress." His voice now holds a touch of disgruntlement, which I ignore. Now is not the time nor place for an open discussion about Damian's spying.

"Let's do this," I say with a flick of my braid. I'll never really be ready for tonight and I just want it over with. Or at least that's how a part of me feels. The other half, that dominant part that pushes at me, is more than ready. I need to let off a little steam and my hands itch to feel a whip within their grasp.

We follow Carl. He leads us away from the bank of elevators we took the evening before and stops at what looks like another guest room door or maybe even a linen closet. Carl enters a PIN number and the door opens. An elevator door slides quietly to the side.

"Use your private suite code for this elevator and it will take you directly to the club. You may go there when you're not working. If you want a non-kinky atmosphere, use the lobby or second floor bars. There's also an indoor pool and health club. Your room will have a list of everything the hotel offers. Use your room number on the bar or dining tab; everything is paid under the terms of your contract."

Carl says all this during the elevator ride. The door slides open and the world changes to a kinky wonderland. The lighting is low with spotlights accenting scene alcoves. The sounds of spanking and cries are normal for the BDSM scene, but that's where normal stops.

There is a real, honest to God carousel in the center of the large rotunda. It circles slowly with subs riding brightly colored horses. Some have their hands bound to the pole in front of them while others just hold on. Colorful lights glow and turn a child's ride into an erotic wonderland. There's a spanking bench, no two, where the customary benches would be on a normal carousel. It's totally awesome, erotic, and out of this world. This is a true BDSM playground.

A young male sub is on one of the spanking benches, displayed in all his glory, and having his ass striped pink by a Domme. I watch the scene play out in spinning increments. My nerves settle. I'm back in my element.

I finally tear my eyes away from the carousel and glance around at more signs of over-the-top wealth. There's a large bar area off to the left that includes tables and chairs with a grand piano, giving it a lounge feel. Three employees handle drink orders from behind the bar while waitresses take orders from the guests at the tables. The men are dressed in black, silk, long-sleeved shirts completely opened down the front with black bowties identifying them as El Diablo employees. The female employees have lacy black bras beneath the shirts and skintight leather skirts.

A woman is lying face down on top of the bar and whenever a Dom sitting nearby places an order, they deliver a hard slap to her naked behind. Her shoulders are shaking and a small sob escapes her with each blow. Bad sub.

The scenes may be similar to what happens at the Mediterranean Club but there's no comparison when it comes to the wealth and class of Club El Diablo. I'm startled when a warm hand lands on my arm. Turning, I barely manage to breathe. Damian's chest is bare and smooth. His six-pack melts into leather pants that look painted on. They disappear into black leather boots that stop just below his knees. Each muscled valley begs to be explored. I barely have enough control to keep my hands off. Slowly, my eyes travel back to his face.

Dimples.

Twinkling eyes.

Scruffy jaw that makes me grip my hands into a fist to keep from reaching out and running my fingers across his chin. He releases my arm and surprisingly, I'm able to stand on my own. Even in full Domme mode, it's pure torture to be around him.

"Mistress Lydia." His warm hand captures mine and he slowly raises it to his lips and kisses the inside of my wrist. Heat flares. His tongue flicks out and licks the same place he kissed. My pussy clenches and it takes everything I have to stay standing and not drop to my knees. How does he do this to me in mere seconds?

"I'd like to show you around and I also have a surprise." His thick voice draws me away from some very wicked thoughts that do not mesh with my Domme status.

"That would be wonderful," I reply in an embarrassingly breathy voice. I must gain control of myself. He leads me closer to the carousel.

"If you choose a sub for the night, they can wait on the carousel if you need to leave them alone. House rules keep Doms from using another's sub without permission. You can also see that public discipline is one of the carousel's best features."

I notice the sub flogged only moments ago. His mouth works between the Domme's thighs while she holds tight to a pole. Many Doms and Dommes expect pleasure from their subs. I gain satisfaction through the domination itself. I hand out orgasms as a gift to my subs and I'm fulfilled when they are.

"You also need to understand the significance of the gold heart bracelets and necklaces. Inside the club, we have color wrist bands to designate preferences and kink experience. Outside these walls, subs wear the gold hearts so they're easily identified by kinky visitors to the hotel. The kink community stays on the top five floors but all lounges and restaurants are open for non-kinky pursuits. Above all else we offer privacy for our guests and ask that vanilla only conversations take place when on the lower floors."

My gaze leaves Damian when the slow spinning of the carousel stops and a young woman steps down. She approaches us with a very familiar sexy walk. I swear my heart stalls. It's Angela dressed in an El Diablo employee uniform. She goes to her knees at my feet. I reach down and reverently touch her hair. Warmth travels up my arm and through my body with the connection.

"Permission to speak, Mistress?"

"Yes, Angela, you have permission." Tears burn my eyes.

"I arrived this morning. Master D gave me a job and when I'm not working, I'm a full member of the club."

A frown replaces my tender smile. "You traveled this morning and you're working tonight?"

"Yes, Mistress, but Master D told me if I didn't take a nap I could not come in this evening. He wanted me here so you would feel more comfortable. I would like to write myself on your schedule for next week if it pleases you, Mistress?"

Damian is manipulating me again but there's no way I would take that out on Angela. I left a message on her phone before I left California explaining that I was leaving for a month. I never heard back and I've been incredibly worried about her. "Yes, it pleases me, Angela. Thank you for making my evening brighter."

She looks so happy staring up at me. "Thank you, Mistress, I must get back to work."

I help her stand. "Yes, you should. I'm not sure kneeling while you're on duty is a good idea."

Damian's voice interrupts. "I don't mind. She asked and I granted her this small favor."

I stop Angela with a slight touch to her arm. She turns and I gently kiss her cheek. "Thank you for being here."

"Yes, Mistress." Angela gives me an amazingly sweet smile before she strolls away.

"Do you like my surprise?"

I fight the desire to push him to the floor and fuck his brains out. "Your control of my life makes me nervous," I answer honestly and hope he doesn't read the need in my eyes.

"Too bad. You lost the bet." He smiles wickedly. "We need to finish your tour."