Ethan had traveled to almost every corner of the world at this point.

He loved to travel, that was true. But the reason behind his monthly trips wasn't exactly that love.

The reason, partly, was because every month he tried to run away from himself, from his demons, from his problems. But after every trip they caught up to him like parasites sucking the blood out of him.

The other reason might have been that he was subconsciously in search of something.

The love for exploration was just a plus point and an excuse to present to the world.

Not that he cared about the world.

But then, if he was indeed in search of something, he had failed to recognize what exactly that thing was.

Which irked Ethan more than it would any other person. Because Ethan Williams always had all the answers.

He knew what he had wanted to do since he was a kid. He'd known exactly what his life would look like at 30. He knew what he wanted to become and what he wanted to avoid becoming.

Even the demons that tore at his soul little by little, he'd seen coming from a very young age. He was prepared. His mind had made peace with the fact that he was broken and that he'll have to work harder than other people to keep himself intact.

But that something that was missing, that something he had never seen coming and he wasn't prepared for it. He needed answers or else the thing would devour him whole, leaving no trace of his existence behind.

But then he wondered, it wouldn't be too bad if that happened.

It would be peaceful in a fucked up sense. To just be gone without a trace. If only it could be done quickly.

The guard in front of the wrought iron gates had recognized him the moment he'd stepped out of his car so when Ethan approached, he only heard the accepting beep of the keypad attached at the side of the door and then the old gates were creaking open.

The guard gave him a nod of acknowledgement, which Ethan ignored and walked in.

The mansion was a huge double storey, Victorian style building with sloping gable roofs and pointed turrets.

The exterior of the imposing asymmetrical structure was all stone with large windows on the upper floor that looked down on the front yard.

The place looked like something out of a children's fairytale during daytime but right now, under the silver moonlight, it looked exactly what it was meant to; Intimidating and terrifying.

The autumn leaves crunched under Ethan's feet as he made the walk from the wrought iron gates towards the main door.

There was another guard stationed there and he, just like the previous one, held the door open for him before he approached.

Inside, it was all red and black. Too much red and black. The kind of color that starts hurting your eyelids after a while.

Ethan had thought about changing the theme of the place but then decided against it. Even though it hurt his head, it was appropriate, keeping in mind the activities that took place inside this building.

There was a bar to his right as he entered. The bartender glanced at him once before turning around and busying himself in preparing his usual drink.

There was a stage at the opposite end of the room where the entire crowd was. There was a scene starting soon.

“You've been in demand today.” A voice called and Ethan looked up to see Xaden approaching him.

Xaden was the nearest thing Ethan had to a friend. But then again, he wouldn't really call the two of them friends. More like acquaintances who met a little too frequently.

“Who asked?” Ethan asked.

Ethan sat down on the stool and turned around, eyes on the stage as he waited for his drink.

The Doms sat on the chairs lined in neat rows in front of the stage while their Subs kneeled beside them on the cold floor, some completely naked and some covered in black latex.

“Some new girl.”

“How did she know about me?” He asked.

He saw Xaden shrug from the corner of his eyes. “Don't know. Didn't ask. Looked like a Sub so I thought I'd let you deal with her if she manages to find you.”

Ethan rolled his eyes at him. “You know I don't deal with virgin subs.”

He was brutal and he liked to push them to their limits. The inexperienced ones usually weren't able to handle him.

“Told her that. She still wanted to see you and she was really persistent so I told her you aren't here yet.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “What kind of a Dom are you? Gave in so easily? And that too to a new sub.”

Xaden scoffed. “You haven't met her. You'll understand what I mean when you do.”

“If I do,” he corrected him quickly. “I don't have any intentions of meeting her.”

Xaden shrugged once again, letting the conversation drop as a couple walked onto the stage.

A tall dominatrix with flaming hair that was pulled into a high ponytail and a lip shade to match.

Dahlia. Xaden and Dahlia might have been the only two people in the club that he interacted with.

Dahlia yanked the chain in her hands, attached to the collar around her sub’s neck. Her sub made a small whimpering noise as his knees scraped against the rough floor.

“Strip,” she ordered, her voice naturally loud and heavy as it carried itself across the room.

Her sub stood up with shaky legs and removed his latex jumpsuit in one go, exposing himself to the audience.

She'd placed a portable suspension bar in the middle of the stage for her scene.

She yanked the chain once again, silently ordering him to stand up. She then yanked his hands up, cuffing them to the handcuffs dangling from the bar.

She pulled out something silver tucked in the belt of her jeans. A click echoed in the eerily silent room as the pocket knife jumped open.

The audience held its breath as one and Ethan sipped his drink, having seen all of it a million times before.

Sadomasochism.

The derivation of sexual pleasure by inflicting pain or humiliation.

It was what his club was mostly known for. He could line all the Doms in his club, if asked only by name, from the most extreme to the least.

Dahlia would be at the top of that list. He would follow very closely behind. He wasn't as brutal as her.

With every cut that Dahlia made across her sub's pale chest, he grew harder. His pained whimpers and gasps were the only sounds in the room as droplets of blood continued to trickle down his open wounds.

“Look at that,” Dahlia said softly, but her voice sounded magnified in that silent room.

She wrapped her palm around her sub's erection.

“So fucking hard for me, aren't you, my dirty little pet?” She said, giving him a few good strokes, making him stiff.

He moaned in the air and then Dahlia's knife was on his neck, just a little ways away from his jugular.

The action caught Ethan’s interest and he sat up a little straighter.

The sub's eyes were wide now, his fear shared by the audience. The guy had taken Dahlia lightly before this point, Ethan realized. 

The sub whimpered against the silver of her knife, moving his head side to side, tears flowing down his face.

“She's going to kill someone one of these days,” Xaden muttered beside him, eyes a little wide.

“What? Don't tell me you thought I'd let you get off the hook with only this,” Dahlia gritted out, motioning towards the numerous bleeding gashes on his chest.

Her knife pressed harder against the skin of his neck until there were droplets of blood there as well. She released the pressure, moving the knife a little closer to his jugular.

She made another cut. And then another. Approaching so close that Ethan thought he might have to end it before she actually killed the poor guy.

But then she stopped, throwing the knife on the floor. The clatter seemed to jerk everyone from whatever they had become busy with in the last few minutes.

Another sub, a girl, walked towards the stage with dazed steps, eyes a little too wide.

She handed something to Dahlia before disappearing in a corner once again.

It was a vibrator with a cap-like top that covered the tip of her sub’s length, the rest of it cradling the base.

A scream tore through his lips as she set the setting at the highest.

“Whatever was planned for today is now canceled,” Dahlia announced to the audience. “And he'll be the only entertainment for you guys today.”

“No, please, no, Mistress,” he whimpered wildly but Dahlia paid no attention to him as she left the stage.

Xaden let out a low whistle before slipping off his stool.

“I'm going,” he said.

“To beg Dahlia to fuck you?” Ethan completed his sentence.

He made a clicking noise, winking in his direction with a sly smirk before following after her.

Ethan took another sip of his drink, eyes rooming over the place. It was a habit. Just to remind himself that he was in the present and in a place where he would never be judged.

The chandelier was bright overhead, probably the only source of light in the area.

The twisting staircase at the far corner of the room was lined with a red carpet. The audience was now dispersing, all of them heading upstairs in twos or threes for their own fun.

But some stuck around, watching Dahlia's sub sob and squirm as he came over and over again, begging for Dahlia to come back.

As the crowd dispersed, Ethan spotted her. The new girl Xaden was talking about.

He wondered how he'd fail to spot her before. She looked so out of place with her maroon crochet top tucked in a pair of brown wide-legged trousers.

Her mouth was slightly open, eyes wide as she looked at the sub with a mixture of fear and desire.

She stood with her legs clenched together, beads of sweat glinting at the side of her face and Ethan knew if he asked her to strip right now, she would, without a question.

And he would find her so fucking wet.

Her dark hair was pulled up in a ponytail, the tips naturally curled.

She might have felt his gaze on her because she turned around and their eyes met.

Blue. Like the ocean on a clear, beautiful day.

He saw her give him a quick once over and he raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued by the audacity.

There was a certain pleasure in taking the inexperienced ones, Ethan knew that. Their fear was a visceral, raw thing that was harder to find in the more experienced ones.

But he had his rules for a reason.

She began walking towards him, eyes downcast, legs still clenched together, her anticipation and fear radiating off in waves.

He allowed himself to imagine ripping off those deliberate pieces of clothing off her body.

“You're Ethan Williams.” It was more a statement than a question, as if she'd recognized him from another lifetime.

“I'm Amelia. Amelia Harold,” she said, holding out her hand for him, eyes burning with a passion that he hadn't seen in a long, long time.