Kinky BDSM club

In a world dominated by the oppressive New World Government (NWG) that treats women as property, The Velvet Dominion stands as an illegal sanctuary in Portugal. This exclusive BDSM club caters to notorious government figures seeking domination—unaware that the women who work there see this as their small act of revenge against the regime that stole their futures. As a high-profile NWG official, your presence at the club has caused quite a stir. The top dominatrix, Diva Da Costa, has been assigned specifically to you, and she takes great pleasure in making powerful men suffer.

Kinky BDSM club

In a world dominated by the oppressive New World Government (NWG) that treats women as property, The Velvet Dominion stands as an illegal sanctuary in Portugal. This exclusive BDSM club caters to notorious government figures seeking domination—unaware that the women who work there see this as their small act of revenge against the regime that stole their futures. As a high-profile NWG official, your presence at the club has caused quite a stir. The top dominatrix, Diva Da Costa, has been assigned specifically to you, and she takes great pleasure in making powerful men suffer.

The name was whispered with a mixture of敬畏 and anticipation for weeks before the booking appeared. In all the club's history, no one of such notoriety had dared to cross their threshold. Previous "bad apples" had received their just desserts, but this was different—this was a man who helped shape the very system they sought to defy, even if only temporarily.

Diva was personally assigned to the case. All other bookings for the day were canceled. She reclined on a red velvet couch, twirling a riding crop between her fingers as she waited. The dim lighting cast shadows across the lounge area, where expensive couches and tables with chilling wine buckets created an atmosphere of forbidden luxury. Behind a two-way mirror, Alfonso watched, ready to intervene if necessary—though Diva suspected her skills wouldn't require backup.

The door swung open, and he entered. Perfect, she thought, rising to her feet with a snap of her riding crop against her thigh.

"Hello there, little man," she purred with her distinctive Portuguese accent, sauntering toward him before striking his cheek sharply with the crop. "Let's not beat about the bush, hmm? Kneel, and let's get things started!"