Bad Boy Dom

Published by H.S. Roberts

[email protected]

http://clubeldiablo.blogspot.com

Bad
Boy Dom

El
Diablo: Book VI

Printing
History

First
Edition: February 2013

All
rights reserved including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof
in any form.

This
is a work of fiction. ALL characters are derived from the author’s imagination.

Kris…

Check-in
went off without a hitch. It felt good to know I wasn’t blackballed for life. I
hadn’t spoken to Damian, the exclusive El Diablo Hotel’s owner, for more than a
year. He sent a short note during my stay at Foundations, a posh rehab for rich
celebrities. That note gave me enough courage to walk past the imposing doorman
and request a suite.

The
well-trained petite blonde behind the check-in counter didn’t lift an eyebrow
when I handed her my identification. My visit was a spur of the moment “I-need-to-unwind-and-write-a-new-song”
decision. My cock was also in need of finely-tuned pussy, and I was hopeful my
warm welcome at the hotel would carry over to the private BDSM club upstairs.

Once
the valet safely tucked me and my extensive gear safely in the room, I thanked
him with a large tip. There were two bedrooms, a small kitchen, dining room,
and comfortable living area along with two full bathrooms. The one off the
master bedroom came complete with a sunken tub and a separate shower. In the
early days of my career, I’d stayed in bedbug-infested motels while eating
sandwiches out of a cooler. Now, with more money than I knew what to do with, I
could appreciate how far I’d come. And I’m not talking just about how far I’d
come since those cheap motels ten years ago, but how far I’d come in the last
two years since ending my private drug-induced hell

I
paced the living area waiting for my fate. It was a relief when I heard the firm
knock at the door.

I
pulled back the heavy, ornate wooden door and let it swing open.

Damian’s
intense brown eyes drilled into mine. I knew he was searching for signs of
addiction. I let him look, knowing there were none to be found. His breath
slowly expelled and the corners of his mouth lifted. He had the devil’s smile
to match his name.

“It’s
good to see you,” he said, in that strong resonant voice I’d missed so much.

“Then
I’m hoping you’ll let me stay.”

Without
answering, his smile broadened. I couldn’t hold back my relief and finally allowed
my stiff shoulders to relax. Strong arms came around me and, for just a moment,
I held back tears. Through all the years I’d known Damian, his willingness to
throw the he-man persona out the window was one of his best characteristics. I absorbed
his strength.

He
slowly pulled back with a last hardy slap on my back. “Yes, you can stay but
let’s talk.”

I
knew this was coming and didn’t mind. One of the things I’d learned the hard
way was the relief I felt when apologizing for my past misdeeds. It was the
best medicine I could give myself.

“Would
you like a drink?” I said as I walked to the fully-stocked bar to grab water
for myself.

Damian
missed nothing. “I’ll take the same.”

“It
doesn’t bother me if you have a beer.”

“No,
water is fine.”

Damian
settled into a chair, and I sat on the couch, kiddy-corner from him.

“You
look good.” His crooked smile was back.

“I
feel good.”

“I
followed the gossip column on your last tour.”

I
laughed loudly. “For some reason, it’s hard to picture you reading the rag
mags.”

“My
wife keeps a few around so it’s much easier than having to buy one for myself
or, God forbid, send an employee to get me one.”

“I
heard you married. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m
happy for me but it’s you I want to know about. I haven’t heard from you in
almost two years.”

There
was no censure in his voice but I needed to explain.

“The
first year was me getting my shit together,” I said. “And this past year has
been reestablishing myself, getting my band’s shit together, and touring. It
took me this long to get up the nerve to come see you.”

“It
shouldn’t have. That’s why I sent you the letter in rehab.”

“I
owe you an apology.” My eyes zeroed into his steady, blameless gaze.

Damian’s
head shook back and forth. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes,
I do, and I need you to hear me out. This is long overdue, Damian.”

He
didn’t say anything, just waited for me to speak.

“I
have no one to blame but myself. I had a good childhood with decent parents who
did everything right. The drugs and alcohol were my fault, no one else’s. The lousy
people I surrounded myself with were my fault. I’m not a weakling or some
broken asshole whining about how I got shafted by the world, because I didn’t.
I partied not to run from anything or forget any pain, but because I could. I
thought I was strong and could control the drugs. But no one is that strong and
before I knew what happened, the drugs had complete and utter control of my
life. I’m sorry for putting you in the position of throwing me out of the club.
I’m sorry for what I did to the sub you stopped me from seriously hurting. I
expected her to press charges. At the very least, she could have filed a lawsuit.
Of all the things I’ve done, that is the one I can’t atone for, but I’m sorry.”

Damian
didn’t speak for a few moments. I knew he was letting my words sink in. His
control was one of the things that attracted submissives and even dominants to
his flame.

“Seeing
you fall further and further was hard,” he said. “I don’t want to do it again.
Do you need me to have housekeeping remove the alcohol from your room?”

“Only
if it makes you feel better. I don’t touch it at all. I’ve replaced two members
of my band because they couldn’t take the new rules. The first year was the
hardest and I’ll always be an addict. But now, I control it and not the other
way around.”

“That’s
good to hear,” he said somberly, and then he smiled. “My wife owns your latest
album and she dances to it with Abigail, our daughter. Hopefully when you meet
Lydia she won’t drool as much as the baby.”

I
couldn’t help but grin.

“I’m
sure if she does you’ll jerk her chain and make her behave.”

Damian’s
laugh was loud and full. “Dinner tonight at my place, and then the club, if
it’s something you want to do.”

“Yes,
it is. Thank you, Damian. I’m glad I came. I’m working on some new material and
I need a sexual outlet when I’m in creativity mode. Do you think subs will be
willing to play with me?”

“You’ll
have your pick. Dixie never spoke about what happened. She moved to New York to
dance classical ballet. She’s quite good. Lydia and I saw her perform six
months ago.”

“I
never knew she danced.” I felt a stab of guilt. Dixie had trusted me with her
body, and I’d come close to damaging her in ways that might have stolen her
life’s dream. I was overwhelmed again by gratitude to Damian for saving us
both. If I had hurt her, I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself. I
wasn’t sure I’d forgiven myself now as it was.

“I
want you to take things slow in the club. I’ll be there if you need help. You
had the makings of a good dom. I know you can still be one, if that’s what you
want. But this time you will know what your subs do outside the club. The
connection is important and it’s not all about the great sex.”

“I’m
willing to learn again.”

“Good,
I’ll see you tonight.” Damian stood and turned to the door. “I see you brought
your guitars.”

“I
don’t travel without them.”

“Would
you mind bringing one to dinner? We won’t make you sing for your supper, but
Lydia will be turned on if you play and I’ll reap the benefits.”

“I’m
working on a ballad that might do the job.”

Again
Damian laughed full out. “Nothing personal but Lydia would prefer something
hard, foul-mouthed, and sexy.”

“Then
I’ll save the ballad for Abigail.”

“That’ll
work.”

The
door closed and I leaned back against the cool wood. I took a deep breath and
then slowly let it out.

I
reached for my favorite guitar case and took out the 1970 Gibson Citation. She
was a sweet thing, and I needed to feel her vibrate. Her rhythmic pulse went
straight to my cock. The evening couldn’t come soon enough.

Angela…

“I’ve
learned nothing, Mistress.” I spoke quietly while her soft hand ran through my
hair.

“You’ve
come so far, Angela. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, and your
beauty shines from within.”

“Beauty
has never been my gift,” I said, shaking my head. “More like a curse.”

“The
beauty you hold inside is a gift. I see it every day. You work hard, you’re
loyal, and I don’t trust my daughter with just anyone.”

I
couldn’t help my giggle and the shake of my shoulders.

“You
know she’s going to be a hellion.”

“Yes,
and her daddy’s pride and joy,” Lydia grinned. “She has him twisted around all
ten of her chubby little fingers. You and I will keep her grounded while Raul
and Damian spoil her rotten.”

“Thank
you for taking care of me today, Mistress.”

“Are
you working at the club tonight?”

“Yes.”

“You
need to keep busy but your entire life is not work.”

“But
Mistress—” I couldn’t keep the fear from my voice — “I only have you, Abigail,
and the club.”

A
sharp tug on my hair brought my head to the side so I looked directly into her
eyes.

“You
have so much more to give, little bird, but you’re too afraid to fly. When you
do, your wings will be glorious.” Her lips met mine in a soft kiss.

She
always knew what I needed and I had no doubt she loved me. It wasn’t a sexual
love or all-consuming passion like she had for her husband. But I never took
the fact she cherished me for granted. I just wanted more. I wasn’t really bi-sexual,
though I joined other subs while playing with my Mistress’s choice selection of
doms. She carefully vetted anyone who worked with me, and preferred to provide
the pain I needed to keep me grounded.

I
felt her body shift and I sat up. She reached for her special concoction to
massage into my back, ass, and upper legs. I would admire the fine lines left
behind from her absolute precision with a whip once I was back in my room. I
loved the look and the bite that lasted for a day or two after she worked a
session with me. I had no problem acknowledging my need for controlled pain and
a safe person to play with. I was toxic to myself and made the wrong decisions in
relationships over and over. I wanted to be strong. I wanted so bad to feel in
control, but it was always just out of my reach.

Mistress
made sure I knew I would always be part of her family, but I dreamed of a family
of my own someday. I wanted love from a man like the Mistress’s husband,
Damian. As horrible as it sounded, I fantasized about him loving me the way he
loved her. I knew he would never look at me twice if she wasn’t my mistress,
and I had no illusions that he would want me. But I could dream, even if my
dreams were just a tiny bit wicked.