Page 47 of Gilded Gods

We enter a room to our left, where one of my favorite clients waits for us. Travis is a hedge fund manager from Manhattan and enjoys helping me train the girls. He flew in to meet Annabelle.

He licks his lips as we approach him. “Mistress O. As always, you chose well.” His head lowers to take in every inch of Annabelle’s body. “My, my, you’re a beauty. What is your name, darling?”

“Annabelle,” she whispers, her accent thick as the name rolls off her tongue.

New girls are almost always shy. But the men find it more of a turn-on because they think that means they can teach them something.

Not my girls, though.

She may look shy and adorable, but Annabelle is about to blow Travis’s mind. I found her at some hole-in-the-wall strip club in Louisiana after someone forwarded me a video they had taken.

The person who sent the video was a member of The O Club and said she gave the best head he’d ever had in the Champagne Room. That was high praise, considering the quality of my girls. So, I tracked Annabelle down and offered her a job.

“Mistress O.” Travis extends his hand to me. “You are a vision this evening.”

I place my hand in his, which he kisses. He’s obsessed with Mistress O and has even offered to pay me his yearly membership fee for one night.

One million dollars.

Of course, I said no.

Travis is wearing a black carnival mask with red accents and nothing else, his average size dick on display. His dark blond hair is short on the top and styled with gel. He’s in good shape and in his late forties. But, like most of our members, I only saw his face the day we met. He signed the nondisclosures and legal documents after passing a thorough background check, and I took his money.

No questions asked.

I don’t care why the men are here or if they’re married and have children. We never really know a person, anyway. Even spouses keep secrets and hide their deepest and darkest desires. It’s an illusion we create to be happy.

This little slice of paradise is their haven. It’s also mine. So, I never judge anyone. I have learned to let go of preconceived notions about our members.

It’s more than a sex club.

The O Club is an experience.

A lifestyle if you can afford it.

I stand by the bed with Apollo at my side as Annabelle gets on it with Travis. Most of our clients have wives and girlfriends. They come here to escape from it all and relive a piece of the single life.

I don’t judge.

Nor do I care.

We have a handful of wealthy women who frequent the club. They often come for some girl-on-girl action before our male members team up on them. The women members are freaky and a big hit with the men. I suspect some of them know each other. They prefer to explore their sexuality while hiding behind a mask in the dark.

Annabella sucks Travis into her mouth, and I kneel on the bed beside them when she’s too aggressive. This is all part of my job. Travis is used to me guiding the girls onto his cock and pays extra for it.

Apollo shifts behind me as I wrap Annabelle’s hair around my fist, moving her head to show her another technique. I wonder what Apollo is doing. Is he touching his hard cock? Does this excite him as much as me? I like knowing that he’s watching me.

“Mistress,” Travis groans. “That’s perfect.”

It’s like I’ve fucked Travis a hundred times. But this is the closest we ever get. I know his hard-on is for me, and I like it. Not because I’m interested in him.

I enjoy knowing a man finds me desirable. Until Ares and Atlas said I was sexy, I only ever felt that way at The O Club.

Once Annabelle finds the perfect rhythm, I let go of her hair. She sucks Travis the way I showed her. The irony is not lost on me. I’m giving our girls sex tips when I haven’t had sex since I fucked Constantine.

Six months ago.

I watch Annabelle’s spectacular performance worthy of an Oscar. Apollo breathes harder. He hasn’t spoken a word, but I know he’s into this.

---