4

Mistress Ainsley was a demanding teacher, pushing me to my limits, yet I found myself thriving under her tutelage. And although I found it difficult to acknowledge, I was intrigued. The more I learned, the more my curiosity grew.

"There is a code of conduct that the club follows," Mistress Ainsley stated, peering into my eyes.

"And you need to know when to give advice and when not to. As well, you need to be firm without being disrespectful to the customers.”

As she explained the ins’ and outs’ of being a hostess for a BDSM club, I realized I was stepping into a world as foreign to me as being a zookeeper. From her description, this was a place where pleasure and pain coexisted and trust was the most valuable resource.

My brain swirled and my throat went dry with all the rules. Lord help me, I couldn’t help thinking, I need a straight shot of whiskey as the truth of the job became increasingly clear; I would be privy to some of the most intimate moments of some of the most powerful people in the whole freaking city.

As all the details of my job began fully sinking in, Mistress Ainsley continued, "You'll need to carry yourself with grace. Our clients long for emotional release in addition to physical pleasure. You have to be able to read their minds. To sense their needs and wants. And above all else, you must maintain the highest level of secrecy."

As I listened to her, the scene she painted unfolded before my eyes. Her words wrapped around me: heavy and weighty.

Her voice, a soft melody, filled the air, accompanied by the faint hum of distant music as she went on to tell me that my clothing would be chosen for me: dresses of luxury and temptation.

With a feeling of unease growing within me, a knot formed in my stomach. I'd never dressed to draw attention before, and the thought of doing so was definitely something I would have to get used to.

Suddenly, the room seemed to be closing in on me, the walls inching closer and closer. What had once been a mere curiosity from stolen moments reading my Papa's books, was now becoming a reality that loomed over me like a ghost from within the pages of those books.

As I had listened to her words, uncertainty fluttered in, and now sat perched on my shoulder like a chattering parrot. This type of lifestyle was not me. I couldn't do it... But, I didn't really have a choice: I accepted it, or I spent the next seven years looking at the world through metal bars.

Drawing in deep breaths to get my emotions under control, I stood, silent. However, it must have been obvious I was apprehensive, for Mistress Ainsley's eyes searched mine, before smiling knowingly, she asked, "Feeling a little overwhelmed?"

I couldn’t help but nod, and at the action, she placed her hand on my shoulder, offering little comfort, "You have a little time to get yourself under control before tonight."

I inhaled harshly. Her words, catching me off guard. Tonight? Tonight? The word echoed in my mind.

Minutes later, after arriving back in my room, I wandered aimlessly, the feeling of being out of my depth consuming me. I was no longer a mere thief from Chicago, but a novice in the art of desire, and I was about to embark on a journey into the unknown. Holy hell!!!

By the time evening arrived, I was dressed in a form-fitting black dress that made me feel both powerful and vulnerable. The fabric whispered against my skin as I walked, a constant reminder of the role I was about to play, and my hair was pulled back into a sleek bun; my makeup understated, yet alluring.

Thankfully, after making my way down the staircase, Mistress Ainsley met me in the grand hall, her own outfit a masterpiece of seduction and control. "You look stunning," she declared, a smile playing on her lips as she ran her eyes up and down the length of me. "Now,” she began, “remember what I've taught you. Observe, learn, but never lose yourself in the moment."

Afterwards and with those words hovering in the air, we descended into the club's main chamber.

The room was alive with an energy that made my skin tingle. Men and women in various states of undress mingled, their whispers and laughter echoing off the elegant walls. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and candle wax: a heady blend.

"Your role tonight is to watch and learn," Mistress Ainsley murmured, her eyes scanning the room alertly. "But remember, your presence is also part of the experience. You’re a canvas upon which our guests can project their fantasies."

Nodding, I took in the scenes around me, my gaze landing on a woman who knelt before a man, her eyes cast down in submission. Eyes shifting, I peered at another woman who was bound to a St. Andrew's cross, her body arching as a flogger danced across her bare skin. The sounds of leather striking flesh, of whimpers and moans, filled the air; a symphony of sensuality and power that both repulsed and fascinated me.

Time passed, and I found myself drawn into the rhythm of the club as I helped Mistress Ainsley serve drinks, and offer towels. As well, I made small talk with the guests, all the while studying the dynamics of dominance and submission.

The club, I quickly learned, was a place where everyone had a role to play, and the lines between reality and fantasy were blurred.

Mistress Ainsley was always watching me with a critical eye, offering quiet corrections and words of encouragement, guiding me through the unspoken rules of the club. Her words were a silent reminder of my place in this world, a gentle nudge that kept me grounded amidst the decadence.

"You're doing well," she’d murmur in my ear, her breath warm against my neck. "But there's more to learn. Much more."

Her words allowed me the knowledge that this was just the beginning of my journey, that there were depths to this lifestyle I'd yet to explore. But as I watched the scenes unfold, as I felt the power of desire and control pulsing through the air, I realized that maybe I could survive it.

The year ahead of my servitude would be one of transformation, of pushing my boundaries: of discovering who I truly was, and as I looked across the room into the eyes of Alex Landry, I knew that like it or not, my fate was irrevocably linked to his.

Unable to look away, I watched as he stepped away from the door he'd been leaning against, and signaled for me to follow him. Without question, I fell in behind him as he led me to a private lounge.

The area was dimly lit and suffused with the scent of leather and whiskey, a place reserved for the most exclusive of the club's patrons; a place that resonated with the whispers of deals and desires.