Chapter 18: Damian

I staked my claim last night. Gossip is ramped at the best of times at the club. Now it's wildfire. I made my move because I wanted everyone to know, especially the men, that Lydia is off limits. I didn't like her working a scene with Kyle and I didn't like her flirting with the bartender. My brain tells me how wrong I am to expect submission from a Domme, but my dick feels the intensity of her stare. Lydia wants me, but she's too stubborn to act on it.

I'm tired of waiting.

After stacking the deck on my first bet with the lovely Lydia, this second one could go either way. I haven't felt this level of exhilaration in ages. I will win this bet.

Of course, the day of the bet is spent dealing with a million and one petty items within the hotel. I have an excellent hotel manager, but it just so happens he's on vacation and I'm stuck doing the everyday tasks I've never enjoyed. A fight broke out in housekeeping. Not a yelling match, an all-out brawl between two women. Both were fired on the spot. It's times like this that I wish the entire world was made up of dominants and submissives. It would be so much easier to punish them with an aggressive paddling than to sign their separation papers. After a brief meeting with their supervisor, I'm given no choice. Their bickering has impeded the work of other employees.

Ten minutes after security escorts the women off the premises, there's another crisis in the main restaurant kitchen. I decide right then that I'm promoting an assistant manager to co-manage the El Diablo Hotel. I'm not doing this again. Call me spoiled but why amass a fortune if you can't hire good people to take some of the load off your back.

It's after three in the afternoon when I find time to take a break and call my mother.

"They're doing well," she says immediately after answering. "One is having more trouble than the other two but I've seen worse. They are cooking tonight's dinner and like the other girls that have come through here, they want to stay busy. Donya, you remember her, don't you?"

The name rings a small bell. She's one of the women my mom worked with last year. I give an affirmative response.

"She speaks Farsi and she's moving in and helping us with the language barrier. The women aren't saying much yet but that's okay. They have time." My mom loves what she does. She's a mother through and through. She stops talking and remains silent for about twenty seconds. "Well?" she finally asks.

"I'm working on it. We have a bet that I plan on winning."

Mom laughs. "Do I want to know what the bet is?"

"No, you don't."

Her laughter is louder now. "I love that a woman is finally getting to you. It's about time."

"I don't like it," I say like a spoiled child.

"Of course you don't but nothing worth having comes easy. The more she pushes your buttons the more you'll want her and that's a good thing."

All the shit my mom put up with regarding my father made her a stronger woman. "I'll call and give you an update after I win."

"I hope you don't mind that I'm cheering for her. Even if you lose, I have faith you'll find a way past her shields."

We end the call and I punch in Monroe's number to give him an update. He says little and ends the call without so much as a goodbye. That's Monroe. The man is king at working in the background, saving the weak, and handing out punishment to those who break the law. I have no doubt the men responsible don't survive Monroe's wrath. In my opinion, if he decides someone needs to disappear, it needs to be permanent. My office phone buzzes, and after swearing under my breath, I head to the next disaster.

***

Lydia

Our bet makes the club grapevine heat up. We arrange the whip-off for Monday, usually the slowest night at the club. The place is packed and even more crowded than it was Saturday night.

I should have known.

Damian picks the subs. They're friends, both female, and they enjoy working together and partnering with one Dom. The rules make them smile and I have no doubt they'll be the most popular subs in the club during the next week. Neither one will know who wields their whip. No broken skin or the bet is forfeit. First sub to orgasm wins the contest for their dominant.

Damian had another St. Andrew's Cross moved into the largest station area where we're prepping. We blindfold the naked women and then Damian gives me dibs on the sub I want. I take the blonde. She's moving around on her toes in anticipation and from the way I see it, she'll orgasm quickly.

I spent the day thinking about ways Damian could cheat. He's given me first choice, which moves the bet into my favor. I know him, though, and I wouldn't put anything past him. I just don't have a clue what that anything is.

My hand trembles slightly while I rotate my wrist. I inhale deeply to steady my nerves. I will win this, I tell myself silently. It becomes a litany. We are working with six-foot whips. I'm good with one but prefer my four-footer. It takes a lot of space to wield a whip this length. Damian has everyone step back so we have room to work without worrying about what's behind us. I refuse to watch Damian prepare and I stay focused on my warmup. Managing my heartrate is another story. It's thumping so hard I'm surprised the people fifteen feet away can't hear it.

I might not be watching Damian warm up but my body knows he's there. It's like I have butterfly wings lightly floating across my skin. Just his scent sends energy ricocheting straight to my pussy. It's completely unfair that he has this effect on me. I catch just the sight of him from the corner of my eye and the damn man has removed his shirt. I turn my head and take a quick glimpse because I can't help myself.

A light trail of hair slides down past the waist of his leather pants and I want to follow the path it takes under the leather and even further down. He's killing me. Movement to my other side gains my attention and I slowly pull my gaze away from Damian. Raul covertly rolls his eyes because he noticed where my gaze was. If I wasn't the center of attention, I'd stick my tongue out.

At the loud snap of Damian's whip, I return my focus to him. He nods with a Cheshire cat smile and I nod back. The wager begins.

I would normally approach the sub first, but I can't give away who I am. Out of habit, I check around me, place the wrist loop around my wrist, grip the handle firmly, and bring the whip up circling it over my head. The first snap is almost simultaneous with Damian's.

I inhale and exhale slowly while concentrating on the task at hand-getting my sweet little sub off. I work her slow with little pain and allow her to become accustomed to the feel of the fall going around her arms and legs. I know from personal experience that what I'm doing is erotic. The leather whispers around the areas I strike in gentle swirls. Every four or five lashes, I wrap the whip around her chest allowing the popper to tickle her breasts. Slowly, I increase the force of the leather thong hitting her thighs. With no warning, I snap the whip so the popper hits her pussy. The response is instant and I back off slightly in my intensity. And it all starts over again. With no other stimulation, this isn't an easy task. My focus remains entirely on my sub and her pending release.

It takes about twenty minutes and she's so damn close I can taste it. I cast my first glance at Damian. He's not working his whip-he's staring at me. My gaze goes to his sub. She hangs limp in her restraints.

With purposeful strides, Damian walks over, removes the whip from my hand, and passes it to another Dom. I don't even see who it is. I'm transfixed by the devil's gaze. I'm hot, sweaty, and terrified all at once. And, I'm also so fucking turned on, it's hard to breathe.

He won.

As it sinks in, I look around for an escape route, which is stupid but I do it anyway. His warm body leans into mine and my world tilts when Damian hoists me over his shoulder. A round of applause breaks out. My damn ass is on display for everyone.

I lost. Fuck.

The blinking lights go by as Damian carries me through the club straight to his back office. He stops only long enough to punch in the access code for his private elevator.

"You can put me down now, I'm not going anywhere," I say with my cheek resting against his backside.

A heavy slap lands on my ass.

"You don't have permission to speak. You know the rules."

Another hard slap lands for emphasis, but besides my quick inhale, I remain quiet. I won't deny I want this. My desire is at a fever pitch. It sucks that I don't want him to know how I feel. What would it be like to let go, give Damian the lead, and enjoy what's about to happen? I can't, I remind myself silently. I need to keep my focus on the end game, which is owning my own club. He carries me into the elevator and my stomach tightens as we travel upward. All I can see is Damian's delectable backside and the plush black carpeting.

He steps off the elevator into the penthouse. I try to take in the surroundings but I'm upended again and my butt hits a hardwood chair. He leaves me there and walks away while I gape.