Mercy

Chapter One

"Your tips today total up to $20,000."

Marques, the head receptionist of Lock & Key nightclub stated as he peered at the computer before him. "Would you prefer it all in cash or to have it transferred directly into your account?"

"$300 in cash." Zyporrah Hayes stated lazily as she leaned on the steel concierge desk struggling to fight a yawn as she watched the remaining receptionist staff bustle with personal files and documents, rushing to prepare for the next day and night activities. It was three in the morning on a Tuesday night, and the club was as busy as ever. Her shift had ended, and she was ready for bed. "Have the rest sent to my account."

Marques nodded curtly and proceeded with the transaction, handing Zyporrah $300 in ones, tens, and twenties. As he watched her place the money in her black clutch purse, he began to show his displeasure. This was the lowest tip in their recorded books to date. There was no reason why she shouldn't be making more money. . . Like she used to.

"Mistress, you can make more money than this you know, you are our most coveted domme. We can always have Dennis- "

"I'm fine." Zyporrah snapped cutting Marques off as she lunged and grabbed his black tie with the flick of her wrist, gripping it towards her and began to tighten it around his neck, limiting his oxygen supply. Papers and pens collapsed towards the black marble floor and Marques' chest slammed into the steel reception desk, his face only a few inches from Zyporrah. The sleepiness she had ran from her eyes, quickly replaced by anger and rage.

His co-workers quickly stopped their duties at the commotion ready to assist, yet as soon as they met Zyporrah's eyes they briskly shifted their attention away from her gaze and resumed finishing their tasks. No one was allowed to say that name in front of her. Marques would just have to suffer for his insolence.

Zyporrah Hayes was the best and highly sought domme in Lock & Key, bringing all their patrons to different levels of euphoric bliss with her skills of domination. If she left the club, more than 70% of their patrons would follow her, patiently waiting to be under her command. Her skills were unmatched, meticulous, and safe. Manipulation, rope play, and edge play were just her favorites from the skills she possessed, which made her extremely lethal when angered. 

A stickler for rules, Zyporrah never touched anyone unless within the dark confines of the dungeons, but hearing that dreaded name always made her snap. Every. Single. Time.

"My days will not change." Zyporrah stated as she yoked Marques' tie towards her. "I will be here Saturday night as promised and that name will never come out of your mouth in my presence. Is that clear?"

Marques quickly nodded and remained silent. Desperately trying to obtain oxygen through his nostrils until she clamped them shut with her rose painted fingernails. Her dark brown eyes smiled at his panic as he struggled to breath from his mouth and nose, desperately trying to avoid her predatory gaze or else he would forget to breathe all together.

Sweat quickly began to soak his black collared shirt as his oxygen supply was limited even more so. Just as lightheadedness was about to come his way, Zyporrah released his nose and tie without a second thought and grabbed her clutch purse. As Marques quickly began to savor sweet filtered air as he clutched his throat, he regained his composure and bowed his head.

"Forgive me Mistress, please enjoy the rest of your night."

"I will after I'm done with you," Zyporrah grinned as the entire staff stiffened in fear. "Go to the Purple Room and blindfold yourself, I will be there shortly."

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