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It isn’t a dungeon or a neon club but a five-star luxury lounge. The entire wall to the right of the door is a bar with bottles of expensive alcohol backlighted and displayed in their own wooden cubicle.
The walls are painted the same deep-eggplant purple as the invitation, and golden sconces create pillars of light against the walls.
Across the room, there are areas of black-velvet love seats surrounding a glass table, where people are laughing and having drinks.
A coat check is tucked away to our left, and I lead David there. I check our jackets, and tuck the ticket into my back pocket. We had to check our keys and cell phones as well. No electronic devices are allowed further into the club to protect the members' privacy.
Seeing David in only his corset again has my cock thickening, and I have to concentrate to keep it down. His lean stature is showcased spectacularly in the dark-blue material, but more, it highlights his collar, making me feel powerful and loved, knowing that he chooses me to be his.
Gio approaches us from the bar, looking dapper in his pin-stripe suit, carrying two wine flutes.
“David, Jon. Welcome to Lussuria,” Gio says, handing us both a glass. “Prosecco from Francesca’s family vineyard. She will be so pleased to know you decided to join us. Come let me take you to her,” he says as he turns and escorts us to a table on the far side of the room where a large group of people are gathered.
In the centre, Francesca is laughing at something an older man whispers in her ear. She’s radiant in a gold dress, her hair raised, exposing her elegant neck, glittering with diamonds.
Gio stands just outside the group, his head downcast, waiting for Francesca to acknowledge him.
Looking around, I see wealth and prestige. Women in beautiful expensive dresses and men in tailored suits, Rolexes and diamonds shine around their necks, wrists, and fingers.
But no one here holds a candle to David—their wealth is no match for his beauty, and I understand Francesca’s fascination now. His beauty is natural, not something he spends hours working at. It’s innate and authentically his—my beautiful Prince.
“Gio, you found them!” Francesca says, looking at us and approaching, her arms outstretched, she places air kisses first on my cheeks, and then she turns to David but waits for me to nod my permission to approach my sub, and when I do, she does the same and follows with a hug. “You look sublime, David. I may have to get Gio one of these corsets. Where did you buy it?” she asks, running a finger over the stitching at his hip.
“Mario, the concierge at the hotel, his sister helped us prepare for tonight. She would be able to help you with that,” I say, my tone hard, even to my ears, but she’s touching him.
“I’ll have to call Mario tomorrow and set up a meeting,” she says, smiling at me over David’s head.
I don’t know what to make of this woman. One moment she’s overly nice and appears genuine, and the next, she’s challenging and obnoxious—which one is her mask?
“Happy birthday, Contessa,” David says, handing her the thin, long, rectangular box.
“Thank you, David. But this wasn’t necessary,” she says, her smile fixed but not reaching her eyes, and I tense up, not knowing what her reaction will be.
“Open it,” he urges, and she reluctantly opens the lid to a marbled black and gold pen with her name ‘Contessa Francesca’ engraved on it.
“David…” she says, looking up at him, and this time her smile reaches her gaze. “Grazie, it is a beautiful gift. I will cherish it.” She replaces the lid and hands it to Gio, “Keep this safe for me, mi amore.”
He strides away, and as soon as he returns, she says, “Now, let me take you on a tour of the club.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DAVID
This is too much. I can’t take any more sexual stimulation, even if it’s only visual. My entire body feels sensitised, and my cock has been constantly hard for the last hour, and I can’t take it anymore—I need to come.
I need to feel Sir’s large cock choking me with his cum.
God, I need him to touch me.
The club has more than one room and more than one floor. I’ve seen women suspended from ropes in exquisitely sensual poses, an art form called Shibari, which I could stay and watch all night long.
Another floor was more hardcore BDSM, with men and women being whipped on an X-frame until they came and queening chairs… who knew that something like that even existed. The subs lying on the floor and licking their Dominant’s ass and pussy. This place is surreal, and my mind is spinning.
The constant bass in the background, the moans and cries in ecstasy, surrounded by the scent of cum and perfume, is intoxicating. Every room is decorated differently, yet it still feels like the same club; each space's luxuriousness and sensuality is appealing to the eye.
We’d just passed through the third floor, where there were windows looking into rooms, some were opaque, where you couldn’t make out the occupants’ features, but you could definitely see the actions taking place in the room.
