Taking in the city below me, I watch the lights flicker on as the sun finally dips below the horizon, leaving the sky in a deep orange glow. I’ve always found solace in the dark. Even when my addiction became something that threatened my livelihood, I would sit in the dark, looking out over the busy city and know that I wasn’t alone.

Everyone at one point in their lives wants, needs, and takes. I’ve learned at an early age that people will do almost anything for something that’s bad for them. Vices. We all have them. I bring the tumbler to my lips and take a long sip of the spicy cognac. I’d spent my teens hooked on drugs, and my twenties were spent gambling away my life. And now, in my thirties, I’m addicted to women and sex.

The darkness of my desires is where I found myself. The real me. Where I came to meet the man that’s somehow comfortable in himself for the first time. It happened the first time I degraded one of the girls I was fucking. In that depraved darkness, I knew where I belonged. In the world of BDSM.

It was the only time I was truly in control. The gambling stopped and I basked in my new addiction. Years on, I’m still here, still enjoying every moment.

Women come to me for the solace that I normally seek in the darkness. There’s times I wonder how they can want me. A man who finds satisfaction in degrading them, but I’ve learned never to judge someone for their tastes.

When the lights in the building opposite turn off, I know it’s time. She’s on her way. Guilt ebbs through me, but I will it away by downing the dregs of my drink. I told her I’d be there at ten and I know she’s just left work to make her way to the place I torment my slaves, submissives, whatever you want to call them.

Me?

I call them sluts.

Yes, I’m an asshole. I’m the man in the Armani suit that your mother warned you about. The one who will steal your heart while fucking your body and when I walk away, I’ll leave you in tattered pieces.

Picking up my phone, keys, and wallet, I make my way down to the parking lot that sits below the office building. As soon as I reach my Mercedes Benz, I press the key fob and it unlocks with a click along with the lights flashing. In the driver’s seat, I settle back and start the engine to a soft purr.

With the car in gear, I head out onto the road, the long stretch that will take me to the club Seven Sins, which has become my second home over the past few years. A place where I can find what I need in the women that offer themselves to me. When I found out what my tastes were sexually, this was the first place I walked into where I finally felt free.

Being in the finance industry and having people know that you’re a Sir who enjoys degrading women doesn’t go hand in hand. But Mason and Carrick have set themselves up with a goldmine and I don’t mind giving them my money when they’ve spent their time making sure that the club is discreet, the clients are vetted, and the surroundings classy.

“Mr. Ashcroft,” the barman greets with a nod, setting a tumbler on the counter after I venture inside the club. My signature drink—a double brandy with one block of ice. Anything more would kill the taste, whereas this gives it a tease, making sure the flavor fills my mouth the same way a woman would when I eat her out.

Most men have no idea how to probably devour a sweet cunt. They have to make sure her toes curl, that her moans are so loud her throat burns from crying out your name. And if she isn’t pulling your hair out by the root, then you’re definitely doing it wrong.

Sitting back, I offer him a nod. “Thank you, Dylan,” I grunt out, turning my attention to the stage. A woman steps out under the spotlight. The lighting in the club is turned down completely, attention on the podium. Allowing my gaze to drink her in, I can’t help noticing her elegance. She’s slim, striking, with a classic, yet alluring beauty. I know who she is. She’s the reason I’m here tonight. The last name on my list. After her, I’ll be done and the requirements of the agreement I signed will be complete.

Her long wavy dark hair the color of chestnuts—with thin golden streaks highlighted by the light above her head—hangs to the middle of her back. She’s dressed in a floor-length red gown that hugs her curves with thin straps over her shoulders. My guess is that she’s in her early twenties. I never know the ages of the girls I take on, I only know they’re innocent to this world of depravity.

My gaze falls to her full lips. They’re glistening with pink gloss. My dick thickens at the possibility of her kneeling before me with those same glossy pink lips wrapped around the base of my cock. Perfection. I’m almost done with my perusal of her when those big blue eyes—the same hue as a tropical ocean—meet mine from across the room. I make no move to show her she’s made me as hard as a fucking rock. No. I keep still. Our gazes lock in a standoff. You’ll lose this one, darling. Trust me.

A moment later, she breaks the link, dropping her gaze to the floor and greeting the audience. The small smile she offers the crowd isn’t for them. I know it because she casts one quick glance at me, and then she’s holding the microphone in hand about to announce the next show.

Tall, lithe, and exquisite.

A submissive if ever I saw one. Perhaps I can keep her. Turn her into a slave who will be there at my beck and call.

“Quite the stunner isn’t she, Nate?”

I turn to find Carrick grinning like he’s hit the jackpot. The beauty on stage opens her mouth and the voice that falls from her lips is sultry, sensual, and I’m immediately enamored with her. The couple who’s going to teach the audience some rope work steps up on stage. Mason and Savannah. But they’re not where my focus lies. It’s on the dark-haired stunner.

“What’s her name?” I ask, acting as if I don’t know. There’s one thing I can’t let on, and that is that this is planned. Carrick doesn’t need to know. Sipping my drink, I savor the burn, trying to calm my raging hard on by focusing on the feel of the amber liquid trailing its way down my throat.

“Evangeline, I call her Eva. She’s an… old friend,” he informs me but doesn’t tear his gaze away from her. I have a feeling he means more than just friend, but I don’t question him. “She’s twenty-two in a couple of weeks. I’ve known her since she was sixteen. Also, beautifully submissive,” he tells me with satisfaction and I know then that he’s been with her.

If there’s one thing Carrick knows, it’s how to get to me. I’ve become a regular in this place and he knows my game, to get all new talent before any of the other Dominant’s get their teeth sunk into the women. This time, he’s got the upper hand. It’s okay though, I never take them for longer than one night. And this will be no different I decide. This agreement is only for one night, to make sure my benefactor is happy with my work and move on. And that’s what I intend to do. Any thoughts of more with Eva are only fantasy.  

“Tell her to meet me in the black dungeon. I want to play.” I gulp the last of my brandy, rising to full height while offering him my hand. Once we shake, he nods and heads toward the stage.

I don’t wait. I head to the room where I’m about to devour the pretty girl. I shut the door behind me, shrugging off my jacket, I hang it on the hook near the mirror. This room is one of my favorites. It’s furnished with a large king-size bed, red and black curtains which hides the two-way mirrors where people can watch me use the slaves.

It’s got a wall filled with whips, chains, floggers, and a few other naughty torture devices. An old friend, Oliver, is a fan of this room as well. We’ve all got our different needs, his being pain. A sadist that enjoys both men and women. He does prefer men, but I’ve seen him turn a young woman into a whimpering kitten.

My kink is degradation. Humiliation. I love making girls cry, ensuring they feel like nothing, then soothing the pain I’ve caused by fucking them mercilessly. Over the years I’ve found myself with slaves begging for that treatment and in turn spent four long years with beautiful women walking in and out my dungeon. I’ve never kept one. Never wanted to claim a woman as mine. I’ve always leaned toward sharing. Even though I’ve had girls on my arm, I’ve used other’s as humiliation. Which in turn only makes them want me more. I never understood it, but who am I to deny them what they need?  

When I hear the knock on the door, I smirk with satisfaction of what I’m about to do. The woman I know is sitting behind the mirror will get off my back, and the one that’s about to be kneeling before me will take the edge off.

“Come in,” I call to the door, not turning to watch her walk in. Always leave them wanting more. Aching and needy. That’s how a woman should be. The click, a soft whoosh, and then another resounding click tells me she’s inside. In the cage with the lion. A hunter and his prey. Now it’s time to play my game. Her perfume wafts over to me and I can’t help inhaling deeply. The scent is sweet, reminding me of cherries. “Take off your dress.” My command echoes off the walls; I don’t miss the gasp that falls from her cherry lips.

“Carrick didn’t tell me you wanted a scene. I’m not ready to—”

Pivoting on my heel, I meet her blue eyes with a hard glare. “Did I ask if you’re ready?” I stalk toward her. Reaching for her long dark hair, I grip it in my fist and tug her head back. Desire immediately swirls in her eyes and I know she’s a submissive. A slave.

But can she handle degradation?

Can she handle me?

“No, Sir. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

“You will be,” I inform her in a gruff tone. “Now, take your fucking dress off, slut. I want to see what I’m playing with tonight.” I release her hair, stepping back to watch her slink out of the thin red material. As soon as it pools at her feet, I allow my gaze to trail from her plump lips down over her luscious tits, noticing how hard her nipples are, peaked behind the deep crimson sheer material that cups them. Her stomach is flat, with a small diamond adorning her navel.

The panties—which match her bra, sheer and see-through—show me the small landing strip of dark hair that sits on her otherwise smooth mound. Fuck. Her long legs are toned, her skin glowing a delicate bronze that looks like she’s been on the beach.

Her heels are the color of a fine Cabernet, matching her underwear. Perfect.

“I want you on that chair.” I point to the velvet armchair that’s perfectly situated facing the mirror. “Drape each of your legs on either arm of the chair. I want you open. I need to see your cunt,” I order with a no nonsense tone that will tell her exactly what I am—an asshole.

I’m brutal.

I’m rude.

And I don’t give a fuck.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmurs. I watch her stroll over to the seat in question. Rolling the sleeves of my shirt to my elbows, I admire the way she moves. Graceful and elegant. She’s simply exquisite. No other toy I’ve been with has captured my attention like she has in the first few moments like this.

Once she’s in position, I make my way to the curtain, tugging the rope which allows anyone who’s watching to see what’s going on inside the room. The blinking light in the corner of the window tells me there’s already an audience and I know who’s sitting there. One small nod to tell the woman on the other side the show is about to start and I’m turning back to my toy.

I plan on edging her until she’s crying, until her tears streak her pretty face. Then she’ll make herself come while I’m watching. When I’m done with her, she’ll be utterly fucked. I don’t normally spend much more time with the girls from my list, but somehow, I know I’ll be taking extra time with Eva.

Feeling her eyes on me as I move around the room, I head to the wall and pick up the candle. Lighting it, I carry it over to her. “Do you like wax?”

“Yes, Sir.” She smiles, not looking at me. Instead her eyes are trained on my shiny black work shoes. Setting the candle on the small table, I crouch down beside her.

“Look at me.” Her eyes flit over to me, meeting mine with hunger burning in them. “Do you like sitting there with your cunt on display for those men?” I question, pointing at the mirror. Her cheeks darken with embarrassment and I find my cock hardening painfully.

“Yes, Sir.” Her words are gasoline to my already blazing need. I’m the fire that’s about to scorch her, leaving her in the rubble of my destruction.

“Rub yourself, one finger, tease those lips through your panties. I want you to make sure that scrap of material is wet with those delicious juices.” Like the perfect slave, she moves her one hand down between her spread thighs. I watch in awe as her index finger glides over the material covering her slit.

Her eyes flutter. Her long lashes whisper over her cheeks as the pleasure of her finger heightens her senses. Her hips move, bucking against her hand as she strokes herself into a heated frenzy. The scent of her arousal hits my nostrils, taunting me and I know there’s no way I’m going to let her get away without tasting every inch of her.

“Stop. Now shift the material out of the way, I want to see your pink hole.” I gesture with my chin. Her fingers grip the now sodden material, moving it out of the way until I’m met with an incredible view of her tight pussy.

I can’t help palming my cock through the material of my slacks, imagining sliding into that perfect little body. She’s incredibly sexy, stunning, and even in this depraved scene we’re playing out, there’s an elegance to her that I’ve never come across. As much as I know I shouldn’t want her, I can’t help it. This is an agreement and I need to remember that.

“Such a pretty slut for me. Aren’t you, Eva?” I ask, using her name for the first time since she’s walked in here. Her deep blue gaze meets my dark one; desire dances in her eyes like a flame in the darkness. In our darkness. I want to give her everything she’s pleading for with that one look.

“Please, Sir,” she begs then. Her words set me off like a stick of dynamite lit to detonate everything in its path, and I know this woman is going to be my end.

“Put your fingers in your cunt, I want to taste them,” I order while leaning in, waiting for her to get two of her long, delicate fingers wet. She slowly sinks them in, deep to the knuckle. As she pulls them from her body, she lifts them to my mouth, offering me the glistening digits. I immediately suck on them. The flavor of her races through my veins like a drug. Musky, sweet, and tangy.

“Do I please you, Sir?” Her question hits me then, slamming into my chest, gripping my throat. When I open my eyes to regard her, I find the yearning in her stare. She needs this as much as I do.

“You do, sweet slut. Kneel on the chair, I’m going to fuck you in front of all those men jerking their dicks while they watch,” I inform her, knowing that I’m leaving out one important fact. There’s more than just a few men out there. And if Eva ever found that out, knew who was there, she’d hate me forever for doing this.