6. The Selfie
CHAPTER SIX
THE SELFIE
Orion
I can hardly concentrate for the rest of the afternoon. Every time Layla looks at her phone, I hold my breath and wait for her to cave and watch Starboy’s new video. After all, I posted it on the fly specifically for her. And once she sees it, she’ll know it’s for her.
The selfish bastard part of me wants to be sitting right next to her when she watches the video I took this morning—me wearing my mask in a dark room with text straight from her book laid over me.
And music from Tchaikovsky’s “ Swan Lake .”
“Don’t you dare touch me. I scratch and bite.”
“You’ll learn to crawl and beg too, darling.”
I know Layla will lose her shit, and I’d sell my soul to watch her eyes take in the words from her filthy book and know Starboy posted for her.
However, she has more self-control than I expect. She’s still at Scott’s when I have to leave to work at Inferno’s bar.
I say a quick goodbye to Layla and Scott—the latter of whom took a solid two-hour nap—and head to downtown Crestwood. The ride is long due to traffic, but it doesn’t matter because I feel on top of the fucking world.
One smile.
She smiles at me for the first time in years, and I feel invincible.
I run home quickly to change and say hello to Earl, ensuring he’s happy and content in his aviary.
“Hello, Master,” he squawks. “Pretty girl?”
I stop walking. “Soon.”
After grabbing a water, I walk to my bedroom, shedding my T-shirt and jeans and swapping them for a black button-up and black slacks. I quickly freshen up while checking my phone—my messages, specifically.
LittleDancer
Don’t mind me. I’m just over here melting over your latest post.
My pulse quickens as I smile, deciding to flirt just a bit.
Prove it.
I know I’ve now opened a can of worms. This started as an innocent question on her part, but somehow, things feel more serious now.
I can’t fuck this up. This might be my last chance to get close to her. I have to play this right or risk losing her forever. I should feel guilty, but I don’t. Not really. I know I can’t continue under the Starboy alias forever. There will come a time when she’ll figure out we’re one and the same. But until that time comes, I’ll do everything in my power to make her mine, once and for all.
When the time comes for the mask to fall, I’ll have to be sure she wants me just as much as I want her.
I’m taking the elevator down to the street when her response comes in.
LittleDancer
*attachment*
My thumb hovers over the hidden image—and my heart thrills with anticipation. I press down, and a picture of Layla lying in bed appears.
It’s not revealing at all—in fact, it looks like she has the covers up to her chin. But it’s her face, her eyes dark and sultry eyes behind her glasses, her lower lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
My cock twitches, and I let out a long, slow breath.
You follow directions so well.
LittleDancer
Guess you’re just special.
Fuck. She’s throwing exactly what I said to her this morning back at me, and her clever wit is really fucking hot.
I have somewhere to be right now, but we can talk about the book later. How does 10 p.m. sound?
LittleDancer
Okay. You already finished reading it?
I read all day.
And just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. Even more so when you’re “melting.”
LittleDancer
Are you flirting with me?
What would you say if I am?
LittleDancer
Between this and the video… *hot face emoji*
The elevator doors open, and I walk out onto the street toward Inferno, which is a few blocks away. I should be shutting this conversation down. I should tell her I can’t help her with her discovery—I’m not a teacher. I’m a Dom. There’s a difference. A Dom who claims to want to teach is usually considered predatory. I am my own worst enemy here since I teach people how to look out for people like me. I expect my submissives to be educated, well-versed, and knowledgeable about their limits, likes, and dislikes.
I never get involved with fans as Starboy.
I never let myself get too interested in the messages I receive—in fact, Layla’s was the first I’d ever responded to.
However, when it comes to my stepsister, I’m ready and willing to break all the rules.
If I’m going to break the protocol I’ve set for myself, I might as well do it with her.
I need to know something before we continue.
LittleDancer
?
If we continue talking like this, will it be within the boundaries of BDSM, or are we just friends? I don’t want to overstep or coerce you into anything.
I walk two blocks before she responds, and I nearly run into several people checking my phone every other second.
LittleDancer
I’m not sure. I’m not experienced like you, but I think I’d like to try it. You’re not coercing me. If anything, I’m coercing you.
That’s why I stress that you do your own research and talking with other submissives in the community. Do you have a submissive mentor?
LittleDancer
I have two friends in the lifestyle who are also submissives.
Okay, good. And we can start slow.
LittleDancer
Do you do this often?
Never.
LittleDancer
*blushes*
I need to know you’re confident enough not to agree to things or ideas you don’t like. Later on, we can establish a safe word if we engage in any sort of play, whether online or in person.
LittleDancer
I am, and I agree.
I’m grinning as I walk up to the front door of Inferno, hanging back a bit as I say goodbye to Layla.
I have to go, but we’ll talk tonight.
LittleDancer
Have a good night. :)
Here’s my number in case you’d rather text me.
*attachment*
Thanks. :)
I sigh and lean against the external wall of Inferno, running a hand through my hair.
Now I had to pick up a burner phone—because if Layla and I were going to actually do this, I couldn’t use my real number.
Once I’m inside, and after walking through tonight’s events with the general manager, I make my way behind the bar and start to pour drinks for anyone who wants their first and only drink. Due to the nature of the Paradise/Purgatory levels, excess alcohol and kink don’t exactly go hand in hand, so all patrons are limited to one drink. I’ve kicked out more than a few patrons who thought they could be sneaky with flasks, and they’ve since been banned. The rules are in bold in numerous places, as the safety of everyone here is paramount.
It’s busy tonight, and I greet everyone who comes up to the bar for a drink, asking them what they think of the establishment. I like talking to the people who inhabit my places—and this one is no different. I recognize a couple of people from the local munch Zoe and I host every week at the pub down the street, but otherwise, word has spread organically over the last few months within the local lifestyle community. People are eager for a local safe space, and I’m more than happy to provide it.
The bespoke furniture, the dark and haunting atmosphere, and the low, classical music give it an almost ethereal vibe. Upstairs in Paradise, it’s bright and white—lots of gold, mirrors, rounded corners, and soft things, like fur. There’s a voyeur room, a game room, a room where toys can be purchased in order to be used, a feather room, a food room, and private rooms that can be booked.
In Purgatory, it’s the exact opposite. Because the building used to be a lumberyard, there’s a large cellar with vaulted ceilings and old coal storerooms. We decided not to add any windows—instead, outfitting the entire section with dim red lights and black flame candles. There are lots of iron fixtures and black paint, manacles and chains everywhere, and sharp edges. There’s a wax room, a rope room, a chain room, a prison room, a spanking room, and a medieval torture room.
Neither floor is obligated to adhere to sadism or pleasure—in fact, we encourage people to explore both. I’ve hired the best dungeon monitors who are here for safety, watching over all play to make sure it’s safe and that the right tools are on hand. They also ensure that safe words are obeyed and are first aid trained should the worst happen.
There are also House Doms and Dommes—experienced tops that are here to give people suggestions or advice, tasters, and demos.
I pay them all triple what they’d make elsewhere.
Observing is encouraged, and before playing in any room, nondisclosure agreements must be signed, as well as safety waivers so that Inferno isn’t liable if anything happens. While people are welcome to play with the House Doms and Dommes, the rooms are also available for private booking.
A steady stream of people crowds the bar to replenish fluids with non-alcoholic drinks or for a breather between scenes. I say hi to those I know, and I introduce myself to those I don’t. I make sure all the people who are curious about kink know about SSC (Safe, Sane, and Consensual) as well as RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink). Most of the people here are experienced enough to know the basics, but we do get some people, like Layla, who read a scene in a book and get curious. Because we welcome those new to kink, I try to do my part. Vetting my people with multiple, thorough background checks and community references is the hardest part of this job.
By the time I leave at half past nine, I’m exhausted. I say goodbye to Jack, the bouncer, and we bump fists.
“You’re heading home early,” he muses, wiggling his eyebrows. It’s true—Inferno usually stays open until two in the morning, and most nights I’m locking the place up.
I shrug. “I have an important call.”
I’ve attempted to keep my cool all night, but now that I get to discuss Layla’s biggest fantasies with her… I wipe my palms on my slacks.
I had a woman ask to play with me tonight, and I didn’t even entertain the idea before declining. In fact, I haven’t done a scene with a sub in… weeks . My heart just isn’t in it.
“Ah, I see. Well, enjoy your call ,” Jack says, smirking. “She must be someone special.”
I smile and walk off without answering because he has no fucking idea.
Stopping in a convenience store, I’m in luck when they have both a burner smartphone and a dry-erase board—so that I can communicate with her without having to disguise my voice. I head back to my penthouse, and at five minutes to ten, I send LittleDancer a message.
Should I call you? Or would you rather speak here?
It takes her a minute to answer, so I quickly pull my button-up off and throw my mask and black hoodie on.
LittleDancer
Sure. We can do video or… not? Sorry I’ve never done this.
Don’t apologize. We can do video, but I’d like to keep my face and voice disguised. I have a dry-erase board so that we can speak. How does that sound?
LittleDancer
If only you knew sign language. ;)
I stare at her message. Does Layla know sign language? Fuck, that’s news to me.
I do, actually. I had a sub for over a year who was hard of hearing. You know sign language?
LittleDancer
Yeah… my best friend in elementary school was deaf so I learned for her. Granted, it’s been… decades… but I’m sure we can get me back up to speed.
Which friend? I ask before quickly erasing it. Racking my brain, I don’t recall her having a friend who was deaf, so it must’ve been before I moved in.
Most of my fluency is concentrated around BDSM terms and directions/commands.
LittleDancer
Like I said, we’ll get me up to speed. ;)
Fuck.
I’m hard already.
Give me a minute. I’ll call you.
For the first time in months— years— I wish I could take a couple of shots of alcohol to calm my nerves. Then again, I want to remember everything about this, and being drunk would mean I couldn’t think clearly and offer sound advice.
I adjust my erection and pull the burner phone out of the box, activating it in just over a minute and creating a place for it on my bookshelf so that there’s only a white wall behind me. Grabbing the dry-erase board just in case, I dim the lights slightly, grab my desk chair, and set myself up. I also make a mental note to disguise my handwriting in case Layla recognizes it.
Taking a deep breath, I ensure my hood and mask are on correctly before dialing Layla’s number.
Here goes fucking nothing.