“I’m such an idiot. I don’t know what it is about that man but resisting him is futile,” I state with a sense of defeat as she begins working her magic on my hair and make-up.
Alexis giggles and we both say it at the same time, laughing, “They don’t call him the Magic Man for nothing.”
Alexis continues, “On another note, that new bitch, Anna, is getting on my nerves.”
I shake my head. “I thought she would’ve backed off after dealing with Sabrina the other night.”
“I know; was that not a trip? Sabrina actually stuck up for you.”
“Well, even though I don’t trust her, it is refreshing to know the dancers stick together when outsiders are involved,” I answer.
“Ha, ha, it’s the way of our jungle,” Alexis giggles. “Roxanne, you know he is going to humiliate you on a leash and collar tonight. Why did you do this?”
“I don’t know. I guess I started thinking about what is going to happen when I age out and I don’t have a retirement plan or any of the necessities for later in life. I mean, it isn’t like I get a 401k that is designed for gangster’s wives.”
“Roxanne, you act like you think that he is going to throw you out like trash.”
“Alexis, men do it every day.”
“Not men who are in love with their wives. You have financial security. That was stupid, Roxanne.”
Alexis turns my chair around and eyes me. “Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I mumble as a tear makes its way down my cheek.
“Roxanne, would you fuck around on him?”
“No, I wouldn’t and I don’t want to. I love my husband.”
Antonio Wayne
It never ceases to amaze me how the girls forget I have surveillance in the castle and they always end up revealing their innermost secrets. It is common for people, whether they be male or female, to do it. They do the same thing with the maids. The help around here knows everything that is going on. It’s the reason I don’t reveal some things to anyone. I’ve seen the same thing happen in the Master/slave dynamic. The slaves stand in the corner with their arms crossed and folded at the elbow behind their back, their eyes straight ahead, and their ears wide open.
I listen to the girls’ conversation as they are getting ready and they have no idea I’m listening. What I hear next makes me groan.
“Roxanne, I’m scared he is going hurt you and I called his brother, Ricardo.”
“Alexis, damn it! What did you do that for? You are going to get both of our asses beat.”
“Well, Roxanne, I love you and it would break my heart if he killed you.”
That bitch has always been a little tattletale I think to myself as I groan. In the past, it has worked to my benefit but dealing with my older brother is a completely different issue. Anyone with older siblings knows the psychological dynamic of them being more dominant and in charge of things never changes no matter how old you get. In my case, it is even more ingrained than the average person because Ricardo raised me so not only is he an older brother, he is the only parent, or father figure, I’ve ever had. Mix in the factors of love, respect, and fear, and it only intensifies the issue.
As soon as the phone rings, I shake my head because I already know it’s my big brother. Though I am tempted to not answer, I would rather get it out of the way. Crossing Ricardo is not an option for me… ever.
“Hermanito, que paso con tigo?” (Little brother what’s up?)
“Tu otra mujer me llamo y me dice lo que ella tiene miedo.” (Your other woman called me and told me that she was scared.)
“Mi esposa esta muy triste por eso y cuando ella esta triste yo estoy también.” (My wife is very upset and when she is upset, it upsets me.)
“Alright Ricardo, I won’t hurt the bitch but her ass is getting disciplined. I’m fed up with her telling me she is going to leave every time things don’t go her way.”
“She is jealous because of your new women perhaps? You have to understand her side of things. How would you feel if the tables were turned?” I feel furious at even the thought of what he is saying, like I will kill everybody involved if there is ever another man trying to win her over. Mine! My brother continues to speak, pulling me out of my murderous rage.
“Es tu esposa, tu mujer pero no se hacer daño a ella.” (That’s your wife. Do what you will but don’t hurt her.)
“Alright, alright, big brother.”
“You are my heart, little brother, but you and I both know that you are in love with her. Discipline her and leave it at that. Talk to her and tell her you don’t like her threatening to leave. Explain to her that it angers you because of our separation as children. All of the feelings you have stem from abandonment issues.”
Great, now I get a lesson in Psych 101.
“Alright, big brother,” I answer, not daring to say what I’m really thinking.
The feeling I get when he tells me that I’m his heart more than make up for the aggravation of the unwanted pep talk. It makes me swell with pride. The two of us are as thick as thieves and if anyone can keep me from hurting Roxanne, it is my big brother, Ricardo.
Chapter Twenty
Antonio Wayne
I stand in the doorway and glare at the girls.
“This is what you wear tonight,” I decree to Roxanne as I hold up a beautiful, gold, sequined, mini dress and gold, strappy heels. I even brought a G-string, garter and hose to complete the ensemble.
I try to stay mad at my wife but it seems like when I look at her and see how beautiful she is, it weakens me. I hate that about myself—the way my heart responds whether I want it to or not. She has a power over me I can’t control or squelch. However, I refuse to allow the spell she has cast over me to weaken my dominance over her. Though she may be able to make me love her, I will never change from a man who demands her allegiance and obedience. I’ve seen the scenario too many times where a man falls in love and the dominance he had, which caused the woman to fall in love with him, is lost. It’s only a matter of time before the woman is gone too. My wife feeds off of my control and I feed off of exerting it over her. These are the attributes that fuel our dark, twisted obsession with each other. My eyes drift to my wife’s long, auburn hair. It cascades down her back in ringlets that Alexis formed with the curling iron. Yes, I do have a weakness for redheads. I always have and I always will. I am a man with fetishes, no doubt. My gaze drifts to her eyes that remind me of the emerald green eyes of a black panther. I then scan over her full lips that cry out to be ravished and, for a moment, I’m lost in her beauty before her voice pulls me from my intense study of her.
“Yes,” she says as she takes the dress and keeps her eyes downcast.
“Your words mean nothing to me!” I’m still mad at her for threatening to leave me. It pisses me off when she does that shit. I find myself being grateful that I put a tracking device in her. If any woman needs one, it’s her. I nod my head to the side, glaring at Alexis and wordlessly commanding her to get out. She scurries away like a scared little rabbit. The girl knows how to read me and she doesn’t want to be subjected to my wrath or my belt. I’m still a little pissed at her tattletale ass too. The only reason I’m not addressing it is because I don’t want to remind these two girls that they are constantly under surveillance.
My lip curls as I look at Roxanne with cold black eyes and envision all the sadistic things I want to do to her. She squirms in her seat and I know it only excites her when I get like this. The girl feeds off of my kink.
I reach over and take her hand, pulling her out of the beauty salon chair and opening her robe. I clamp down on a nipple, pinching it with my forefinger and thumb. My cock jumps as I view a tear roll down her face in response to the pain. I viciously grab a handful of her hair and pull her right into my face as I cock my head to the side and speak. “You are not to be out of my sight tonight!”
“Yes Sir,” she meekly answers. There is nothing meek about my wife. She is trying to play the demure, obe
dient sub because she knows her ass is in trouble for mouthing off about leaving. She is no different than anyone else. I have to set a standard, an example. If I let her get away with talking to me like that, then the rest of the women are going to perceive me as being weak. In my world, love isn’t weak; it is determined and resolute. I love my wife and I am not going to lose her.
There is no thought of ever replacing her. She is irreplaceable, priceless and valued in my eyes.
You thief, I hate the way that you have stolen my heart and made me love you.
I reach down and place a nipple in my mouth to apply suction. I slowly savor her taste, her smell, and her very essence. It pleases me when I feel her quiver beneath my touch. I love the way her body responds to me and only me.
I slowly slide a finger into her and whisper in her ear, “You stay wet for only me. Don’t you, girl?” I know very well the effect I have on her because she holds the same power over me. We are like matches and gasoline. We feed off of each other sexually and regardless of how we try to fight it or deny it, the truth remains. We are head over heels in love with each other.
My hand clamps at the back of her neck, fisting the auburn hair that I love. I pull her close to my face and lock eyes with her as I slip my finger in and out of her very soaked opening, making certain to slide it across her clit on every exit.
“You are my toy, my toy for my pleasure. Why the hell do you tell me you’re going to leave me, Roxanne?”
“I don’t trust these women around you. I am sorry, Tony.”
The possessiveness I have shown towards Roxanne is nothing compared to how she will be treated now. I have no intentions of letting her out of my sight. I feel as if a piece of my soul will be ripped from my existence if I lose her. It is one of the few things I fear.
Though I am livid about her threatening to leave me all the time, I am very pleased about what I heard on surveillance. She admitted she loves me and won’t fuck around and I know she is telling the truth. My job is reading women and I’m damn good at what I do. I know she loves me but she has to be disciplined so that this never happens again. To let it go will only send the message that I will tolerate this behavior and I don’t want to encourage her to act on her threat of leaving. I would hate to have to kill someone and I know my temper well enough to know what happens when I’m enraged.
I watch Roxanne, tears streaming down her face, as I place a 14kt gold collar with inlaid diamonds around her neck. Though this is a ceremony for some, she sees it as a humbling experience to have to don it in front of vanilla customers and the other dancers. She doesn’t realize that I have women who would give their right arm to wear my collar. I have every intention of showing her just how incredibly erotic a collar and leash can be. By the time I get done with her tonight, she will get wet every time she sees it. She’s so naïve to my world and it’s such a turn on for me. I am honored to be her first and only Dom.
I look her over before I attach a long, 14kt gold chain to the O-ring and she actually looks smoking hot.
I pull her to me, resisting the urge to bend her over the foot of the bed and fuck her like an obsessed lover. I settle with ravishing her mouth… for now. “You look so fucking hot!”
She smiles and casts her eyes down. “For your eyes only, Sir.” Her timidity doesn’t fool me one bit. I’m dealing with an independent, self-sufficient woman with sub tendencies—Alpha sub tendencies. I reach around and retrieve a gold plush pillow I brought in with me.
“Any other woman would be getting a standard pillow,” I growl under my breath.
I know she hates walking through the club as people stare. To her, it is so fucking humiliating.
Anna snickers as she watches me lead my wife to the back private room and I take note of it. I’ll be dealing with that bitch real soon. She just doesn’t know it yet. She is the reason my wife threatened to leave me.
“Alexis, get your ass over here!” I yell.
Alexis scurries, or rather twitches, her way over to us. She’s so funny. She’s so totally girly but damn if that girl can’t make some money so it sure is working for her.
I order drinks and I know Roxanne wants a shot badly but she also knows not to ask when that collar is on. When she’s at the end of my leash, she’ll eat and drink what I give her. She’s informed enough about the lifestyle to know not to speak when she is bowed at my feet and collared. We are in Master/slave mode right now and she damn sure knows it. Roxanne is nobody’s doormat but she understands that she is property—my fucking property. When that collar is on, she knows that my dominance goes to a whole new level.
Sabrina makes her way over with Anna and smiles down at her. It’s good to see their shared contempt for the new girl has caused them to bond. I take note of Anna when she purposely gets too close to Roxanne’s hand as if she doesn’t see it in the dimly lit room and I bark out in Spanish for her to back up. Everything freezes for a moment in time. These girls don’t realize that I know what Anna is doing and I have a plan to put a stop to her antics. She is clueless to the fact that I’m going to be dealing with her mistreatment of my wife. I understand she was abducted but that doesn’t give her the right to mistreat my wife. By doing so, she is disrespecting me. I warned her, along with the other women, the first night she was here. Now it’s time to reinforce that warning. I don’t make empty threats—period. I mean what I fucking say.
“Get your fucking foot away from her hand. I just know you aren’t considering stepping on her hand and acting like it’s an accident.” I challenge her in Spanish. Though no one knows what I’m saying but Roxanne, the girls can clearly tell by my demeanor that I’m pissed and I’m reading this girl the riot act.
Anna’s face falls. She didn’t count on that shit backfiring on her.
“Vete, get out of here,” I spit in her direction. Sabrina roughly grabs her arm, getting her away from me.
I see her crying but I know it is only her playing the role of the victim. That’s how she operates. She purposely does shit and then plays dumb. I’m seriously wondering how much more of her bullshit Roxanne can take before she beats her ass. I have a plan and I’m going to need to put it in motion quickly before I have a major catfight on my hands. If it comes down to it though, my money’s on my wife. I went online and watched one of her fights and she can probably just about beat a man’s ass. There isn’t any hair pulling or scratching in her fighting style; it’s straight up MMA. Anna may be biting off more than she can chew. Let me reword that… Anna is biting off more than she can chew.
I reach down and scoop up Roxanne, cradling her in my arms.
“Go get two shots of Patron, Alexis.”
Alexis snickers as she walks past Anna and tells her, “Your little plan backfired and if you lay a hand on me, Roxanne will kick your ass.” I resist the urge to chuckle, knowing the girl doesn’t understand a word Alexis said. There is a definite pecking order between the dancers in any club.
I gaze into Roxanne’s face with my lip snarled and wipe the tears from her face. I know they’re tears of embarrassment from being collared and forced to kneel at my feet in front of people.
“Your ass is still in trouble!”
I grab a handful of her hair and growl, “I’m going to take you home, tie your ass up, and tease you until you are begging me to let you come. I’m going to fuck like you are my toy, discipline you like you are my daughter, and train your ass like you are my slave!” She searches my face with her eyes as if she is weighing each of my words carefully.
A sadistic smile crosses my face. “Drink that,” I say when Alexis returns.
She slams the shot of Patron down like she can drink a man under the table. “I’m ready to get the fuck out of here,” I say.
“I need to make some money. I’ll be home later,” Alexis states and gets up before anyone can stop her.
Anna watches us leave like she is heartbroken. I’m not quite sure why this girl has latched onto me. Maybe it’s hero syndrome but I’m more i
nclined to believe she is just another dancer trying to move up the ladder and secure her position in the pecking order.
I learned a long time ago that there are dancers who come to work and don’t care about all the drama because they are all business, and there are dancers who will stop at nothing to be on the boss’s arm. I’m not flattered when the latter happens. After all, no one likes being used.
Chapter Twenty One
Roxanne
I’m well aware that I have fallen in love with a gangster and I have come to terms with it. Whether it is in this romantic, moonlit room of his castle, or the dark, sinister dungeon, I love this curiously flawed husband that was forced upon me. Maybe being his captive is the only way that we both know I’ll stay. All I know is that a major weight of responsibility has been lifted from my shoulders. My fairytale may not be what little girls are taught by well meaning mothers, but it is mine.
He presses his weight into my body and gently clamps his large hand around my neck.
“Pull those legs back. I want those fucking ankles as close to your ears as you can get them. I want to fuck my woman. I want to bury myself so deeply in you that we become one. I can’t get enough of you, girl.” He removes his hand from my neck to lift his upper torso, holding his weight up by the palms of his hands but never removing those coal black, intense eyes from mine. My body stretches to accommodate him and he fills me in ways that go far beyond any physical fuck. We are connected and though he isn’t the type of man I ever would have pictured myself ending up with, the heart wants what the heart wants.
“That’s it, baby girl, clamp down on your man’s cock.”
He moves his hips, filling me deeply and always rotating slowly on the exit. The man knows my body like no one else.
“Come for me, baby.”
He sends me over the edge, grinding down into me as if he desires to send a message of pain as well as pleasure, of dominance as well as ownership. I am his, he is mine, and we are one. We were birthed in the portals of time and made for each other. If I live to see eternity, I will never know another love like this—a love so intense that it physically hurts. Just the thought of us being ripped apart leaves a hole in my heart that I can physically feel. It leaves a gaping wound that can never be healed. I don’t like it and yet, I can’t escape it.
The Club Page 12