Wyte's Club Pt. 01: Dominic

I have an entire closet filled with nothing but masks.

They're not generic. Each one is purely handmade and purely unique. Each one is also made to cover all of my face with a few ornaments to hang down across my neck. Bits of my neck will usually show around my higher collars and ornaments but I've learned to not mind quite as much. The person who used to make these for me eventually took pity on me and showed me how to decorate my own ornamental masks to give my life some variety. I was paying her well but... well.

One day she saw my face, you see. And she realized that I wasn't doing it to just be strange or as a gimmick. Granted, with my last name and the family I am related to it wasn't an unusual assumption for me to go for a gimmick of my own.

But she showed off a good heart when she saw me without a mask. At first she thought my face was of my own design. Also a fair assumption. My brother made his empire off of kinks and fetishes. And there are many with a fetish for body modification.

I'm not one. Why else would I be paying so much to continually keep my face hidden.

But it's not a complete bad thing. Every day I decide who I want to be. What color do I feel. Do I want to wear red and stand it out with a gold mask. Maybe I feel like royal purple.

Most of the time I go with different variations of black and silver. I love how it looks with a dark dress and high collar. Ethereal, almost.

I cover my left eye with a black patch and place a black mask over it with silver sequins and glitter on it. Afterwards, I press the button to close that closet and go to another walk in closet for my clothes. My black dresses are all longer, all conservative. All lovely. I choose one.

My life might have started out twisted. My father was a surgeon who decided my face and torso needed to be modified beyond extremes. My brother built his millionaire empire off of kinks and fetish clubs, porn and sex. Normal? Not quite.

But I'm rich. And I can get away with covering my face, even if the coverings are beyond standards and wouldn't fit in a normal work environment. Really, after you're making a certain amount of money, it doesn't seem to matter.

So strange. But good.

Foxx Wyte is the name of my brother. He's actually a pretty good guy and I owe him a lot. The start of which is that he saved me from the hands of my father when I was a teenager and he found out what was happening to me.

But another thing that shouldn't be overlooked is that he persuaded me to go purely into investment. He was a business guy first and foremost, even over being a kinky slut, and he was damned good at it. So as a teenager he infused me with a steady injection of stockbrokering knowledge. It started out small and would go on to be a company that I didn't even have to be present for. What did I do for a living anymore? Not a damn thing. I relaxed and watched my bank account numbers, used basic knowledge that was as easy as addition to me and kept in touch with someone who did all the dirty work of running my company for me. I liked it that way. I liked not having to show my masked face in public. It attracted less attention than my actual face did, but still more than I was comfortable with.

Well, that's not completely true. There was one place that I was okay to show my masks. That was where I spent most of job time. At Foxx's clubs, running his empire with him.

Stockbrokering required a few critical times of the year out of my time. But I loved Foxx's empire. I had a deal and partnership with me. He invested heavily in me and I fed him back with making his life half as difficult. Apart we were fucking brilliant. Together we're a powerhouse. People are already intimated of Foxx. He's a sadist himself and that's why he worked so well with running his porn empire.

But then there's me. People don't know exactly what happened to me. We kept it secret. But they know it was something. And they know it was terrible. It's amusing truly. Besides the bitchy side that's good at running a company beside my brother, I'm docile. I'm a 26 year old virgin, no kinks so far as I know. I'm calm. I like reading and crochet.

I don't have to say a word. And Foxx doesn't take no for an answer. He runs his company, but he invests in partners and he has enough money for people to come to him for it.

At the moment, though, life is boring. I don't have much to do today so I'm going to Foxx's.

Like I said, it's the one place where my mask doesn't feel very out of place.

Foxx isn't home at the moment so he's left someone to run the club for him with a memo to me to check his numbers and make sure all his laws and rules are followed. He had a meeting in San Diego for a week, but I don't mind. The only downside is our house is huge and I miss him when he's gone. It's so big it feels lonely. At the moment, it's gotten to me for a bit. After spending the night at his bar, I might just invite some of his friends and coworkers over to spend the night. They love a chance to and Foxx invites them over most all the time. He hates feeling lonely, same as I.

The bar lights make it impossible to stay feeling low for long, however. They're gaudy and demand attention. Foxx's bars are renowned among certain circles. He found the center of a demographic and nailed their dreamworld to the details, from what I understand. Everything about is made to feel safe while being made for freaks and anyone horny enough to feel adventurous. The bartenders in this one alternate between two of them. Both are gorgeous, kinky, know all the rules, and both have been fucked by brother. One is a female, one is a male. Both spend their entire lives bodybuilding and protect Foxx's clientele with a predatory fierceness that's stunning. People don't bend the rules in a club where the bartenders look like that.

Sure enough when I get there Foxx's club is running just fine. I pace through and stop at the sectioned areas where people play. I watch like Foxx's dungeon monitors watch and look for the details Foxx has taught me to. Things get twisted in kink. Sometimes people don't want to like what happens to them, but there's a difference in things that are unsafe and things that are safe. That's one of the things.

The other is trickier to notice. It's the difference in someone who is having a masochist fantasy or fetish fulfilled and someone who genuinely isn't having a good time. Sometimes Foxx's dungeon monitors will step over the ropes and stroke the hair of a slave or submissive. Not to intervene or ruin anything. Just as reassurance. Foxx chose all of them with a spirit of protection and dominants. Like the bouncer in a strip club, they're guardian angels of his place.

They need to reassure themselves that every person in Foxx's club is really, truly okay. That they all want what is happening to them. Well, if a guardian angel could be a slutty, horny, kinky Dom. A guardian demon might be a better term.

Really, that's how I like to think of Foxx's clubs. I like to think of them as hell, with their red glow and the cries of pleasure and pain and need. And the DMs as guardian demons set by their master, my brother.

What can I say. I have a romantic heart every now and again.

So I watch. I don't step over the ropes and touch. That's only for Foxx's Doms. But I do pause and I do like the images every now and again. My father's attentions made him horny and ever since he sated his lusts as well as depravity with me I haven't been able to get turned on very often.

But, to me, some of Foxx's scenes are romantic. And I appreciate them for what they are. A female bent over a horse with a Dom behind her, carefully watching her reactions so he can take her to the edges of pleasure. Another sub laid over a table covered in colorful candlewax and moaning with each new touch of heat on his skin. Cries of pleasure, cries of pain, cries of need. There is something all too primal in it all and I enjoy that.

I turn a corner and come face to face with Foxx's lead demon.

He's one of the most beautiful people I've ever met. He's every bit the contradiction that infuses Foxx's clubs. He's the most protective of Foxx's demons and he's the most sadistic. He's everything that I'm not.

For starters, he stays sexually turned on. His fetish is in everything that can be turned into humiliation or sexual torment or degradation. He loves sex and he's had tons of partners. They've come and gone for him. You see, he's something of a legend with Foxx's clubs, but not a legend to be dated as a permanent life partner. He's too intense, so to speak.

His name is Dominic Santiago and he's my best friend.

Most people can't tell when I smile, not behind my mask and my covered left eye. But Dominic can always tell. He grins easily back and walks towards me.

"Long time, no see, love."

I laugh a small amount, but it comes easily with Dominic. "It has been a while, hasn't it? A few months, I think. How were the San Diego clubs?"

He shrugs and snorts. "Same as these, with just minor differences. Everyone knows what they're doing there as well as anyone your brother has working for him here."

"You'll have to forgive him his caution, dear. He doesn't know them quite as... personally as he knows the rest of you. Or most of you."

This time Dominic laughs. "Oh, I missed you. Subtlety and modesty are definitely refreshing with my job. Come on, Kitten. Let's catch up. I've closed off one of the back rooms to be repainted tomorrow. It had to be cleaned early."

Like all of the Monitors he's wearing leathers and leather gloves. He's fucking beautiful and he's devastatingly intimidating.

Still, though, it's been a while since I've connected with anyone. I take his hand and his offer and he leads the way to one of Foxx's back dungeon rooms.

He closes the door behind us and I take a look around. The room to be painted is one of Foxx's lightly lit room. The mock sconces on the wall are blue and soft. There's a table left in the middle of the room. Most of the cabinets have been pushed to the center. Any decorative wall hangings have been removed. The walls are blue like the light.

"Aw. What color is he having it painted, Dom?"

Dominic smiles. "Red."

I whine. "But I like this room."

In answer Dominic's chuckles. "I think you'll like it even better when it's red. So will most of the clientele. The blue will look all the softer. It'll look more fantasy like, I suppose."

I shrug. Whatever my brother wants to do is really up to him. I'm sure Dominic is right anyway. I'm terrible at seeing anything in my head before it happens. "So, how did you like staying San Diego?" I sit on the table and turn to face and Dominic sit comfortably on a sawhorse.

"Well enough. Hotter than hell, that's for damn sure. But not bad. Not bad at all. A bit more laid on than here. But to be honest San Francisco will always be home, love."

I grin. "I like it better here as well. He's sending you to Las Vegas next, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to that one. Sin city, love. What about you? Is he sending you anywhere? I know he has before, a few times."

"No, at the moment, I've got nothing but to lay back and relax. It's very dull, really. I crocheted an entire huge squid last night."

Dominic chuckles his delight. He's always seemed to approve of my tame hobbies. He's always called them adorable. I suppose I can understand why, due to his normal lifestyle. "The exciting life of millionaires."

I laugh. "Well, not when their made by their brothers."

He grins easily. "You're the lucky one. I've been fucked by your brother, like most of the workers here, and he's never let us have boring lives."

I can't help it with Dominic. He's really quite charming. His quips come easily and they always make me throw back my head and laugh. "Well, thank god I'm an exception if that's what it takes to be in the Foxx Wyte club."

"A club? I'm offended! This is far more exclusive. A harem, at the very least."

"His harem, then. So is he like a sultan for you, is that what you're calling my brother?"

Dominic makes a sound of disgust. "I'll pay you to not call him that again. Sand. I'm still having nightmares about sand in my condom and on my dick."

The back and forth breaks with me shaking in laughter and Dominic has to grin at the sound. He's the only person who can get me to respond like this. He always has been. When Foxx first adopted me from my father and the city, I barely reacted to much of anything. I don't remember much of that time, to be perfectly honest.

But I remember Dominic. And I remember that Foxx used to leave me with Dominic for a while because he was the only one who seemed to have the superpower of making me normal and happy again. He was the first person to make me smile again. He was the first person to make me laugh again. In all his vulgarity and charm he was the first person to make me feel okay again.

And I worry about him. When I finally calm down and still smiling, I ask out of curiosity. "Is your date here?"

Dominic looks down. "No. Don't have a date at the moment. Just a monitor. Just free game again."

This is why I worry. Dominic will never admit it to anyone, but he hates being alone, especially after working at the clubs, which Foxx has him do most days. How could he not? He's so sadistic that he has to experience some sort of drop after he fucks, at least the way I imagine it he must. Going home alone with no one to care for and bring himself back from those drops is what makes me worry for him the most.

"Another curious bunny, love?"

Dominic shrugs. "No idea. She was fine. She played with everything, she never relayed that I did anything wrong. And then she got home one day and just said she was done. I haven't heard from her since. That was a few weeks ago."

I gasp. "A few weeks? Surely you jest! I haven't known you to wait so long, hedonist. Could it be that the hotel in California has let you leave and not merely check out? Could it be that the lead demon has lost his weeks? I am in shock!"

Dominic revives in an instant and howls in laughter. "Oh, is that right? You think I'm losing my touch, do you?"

I hold up my hands. "I never said that. You just did, though. Now this is an interesting train of thought. We should follow this through. Do you think you are losing your touch, Dominic?"

He grins wickedly. "Want to find out?"

I blink for a moment. I've had a couple of drinks. I'm in a misshapen fetish room with soft blue lighting. I've been alone for 26 years except for my father, who's company disfigured me, and my brother, who I show a front for because I need to and it pleases him. I am so lonely, so very lonely, and there is a person who I've opened up to and who seems to connect with me.

It slips out before I can stop it. "I wouldn't say no."

Dominic pauses. Just for a moment, just for a bit. It's a shout for him. Normally he's so smooth about everything, so charming. But somehow I've managed to shock him enough that, for just a brief moment, his charm doesn't smooth instantly over it. Then, he smiles again. "That'd be a bad idea."

I laugh. "Oh? Why? Think I couldn't handle you?"

He gives me a wicked smile back. "I know you couldn't." My blood races, just a bit. It's as close as I've gotten to turned on anymore. "But for other reasons, too. I rather like you, you see. It'd get intense."

Behind my mask, my gaze is sly and coy and it's not visible, but Dominic seems to get the gist like he does with my smile. "Oh? What if I like that?"

"Kitten..."

My name sounds pretty good coming from him. And, really, I'm curious. Maybe it's the alcohol kicking in. Maybe it's the first stirring of real emotion since Dominic was sent away. I don't know and I don't really care, but I'm curious. I hop off the table and walk to him sitting on the sawhorse. He stares up at me and I'm so small that I'm just barely taller than him even while his sitting. That makes me grin. In a rare moment, I lean forward and I meet Dominic for a curious kiss.

I expect it to disappoint. I expect my thoughts, my feelings, my racing blood to shut down like it always does. And, well, I don't get aroused. It's nothing quite like that. But I do feel. I feel a lot. My blood races a bit harder, I feel my curiosity rise a bit more, my body hums with a soft pleasing glow.

Dominic lets out a soft a purr in my mouth and pulls back. "Oh, Kitten..." I stare at him and he's silent for a while before he finally takes a break and blinks to cool his thoughts. "I only accept submissives interested in training for slavery."

I already knew that. "Yes, sir," I whisper.

He shudders. "Kitten, I'm bad."

"I've handled the worst."

"Kitten..." He says it for the third time. "Love, I want to. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. But you don't even like sex."

I laugh. "I confessed that to you years ago. Leave it to you to remember everything. Tell me. I know you've fantasized about me. You've confessed while drinking. Have you fantasized about a way that involves that problem?"

His eyes dilate. "Oh, yes. It's bad, Kitten. I'm telling you."

"That's okay, Dominic. I swear I'll tell you if it's not. We'll talk every day along the way if you like. We'll talk about your tame and we'll talk through your worst."

Dominic twitches. Just once. He hesitates. I get down on my knees and stare up at him. "Please, sir. I want to call you Master."

Dominic stands and his eyes change in an instant. They're dilated and he takes a deep breath. "Alright, little girl. We'll dance. I'm as lonely as you are and I've fantasized about this for too long. We'll play."

The first Dominic did was grab rope out of one of the moved cabinets. And then he tied me. The ropes are gentle, but undoubtedly secure. I'm still clothes, by hands tied behind my back and to my ankles in a web around me. My tits are even secured tight with rope, although this seems more decorative for Dominic's pleasure than anything else. Still, though, I don't protest. I trust Dominic more than anyone. He's bad, it's true, but he's protective and he's kind.

When he's done he sits on the table where I previously sat. We meet each other's gaze and we're both still and silent for a moment. I shift in my ropes and he watches me, nothing more and nothing less. He watches me struggle for a bit, he watches me test the ropes, and then he watches when I finally sit still and just meet his gaze calmly. I suppose with anyone else I would be panicked. And really, I'd have every reason to with such a decorative past. Rest assured that restraints were involved in my disfigurement. But this does nothing to dredge that up. I'm merely here, in the moment, watching Dominic watch me.

Finally, he smiles. "Calm, then. I'm glad. I worried the panic might come."

I give him a shy smile in reply. "Not so far."

"That's good. I would have given you an out until you started to trust me enough to not need it anymore. You see, you do realize that, don't you? I'll start out nice and easy, like this. I'll start out slow, but I'm going to push you. I'm going to demand trusts from you, some of them you aren't going to want to give."

"Of course. That's just what you do, isn't it?"

Dominic laughs. "Call it a fatal flaw."

I snicker. "Fatal, indeed. You're losing your touch remember?"

He stands and walks behind me to stroke my hair. "Is that right, little Kitten?"

I shiver and shift in the ropes again. Oh, it still isn't panic. But it is a reminder that I'm at his mercy. "On second thought, I take it back."

He laughs freely. Every bit as freely as he makes me laugh. "Oh we're going to have fun, Kitten. So you wanted to know what I had in mind that involved your little problem, right? You wanted to hear what I was going to do to you Kitten? Well, little girl? Do you still want to know what I'm going to do?"