With each crack of the cane, Althea’s breath hitches. She’s not even the one being punished, yet I’m mesmerized by the way her thighs clench with each strike.
She likes that.
As soon as she passes through the doors to the Dungeon, her head turns toward the sound of leather smacking flesh across theroom, and I catch sight of her body as it trembles at the sound of each lash. Tonight, the room smells of sweat, sex, and a hint of jasmine and citrus. The spacious room is darker with only a purple and red hue of colored bulbs covered by spiderwebs to light the way. Even the music in this room is different. Sexier. It’s not like the stuff they’re playing on the dance floor. This is more instrumental, sensual. The bass is almost hypnotic. Meant to help the submissive enter a more relaxed state.
Another woman’s moans fill the room, drawing Althea’s attention. She’s wearing a black bandaged bustier top with cutouts along the sides of her breasts and abdomen with crisscross spaghetti straps and two wide, hip-high slits over her thighs. It appears to be a mix of spandex and leather. With silver jewelry and four-inch heels. I wonder if it’s the scene or the outfit that has Althea’s interest?
I wonder what my little devil would look like in that outfit.
The woman’s companion has pushed the slits of fabric over her breasts, exposing her nipples where he’s just placed two nipple clamps.
Althea’s right hand comes up to her neck, skimming over her right breast as she bites her bottom lip. I make a mental note of her reaction.
She turns toward the doors, staring at one of my men, Lucas, a dungeon monitor standing watch.
Is she uncomfortable? Does she sense me following her?
Whatever it is, she appears to be deep in thought and my curiosity has me moving toward her.
7
ALTHEA
The monitors this evening are all wearing black, and their faces are painted as skeletons. If it weren’t for the uniformity and the fact that their shirts all sayDungeon Monitor, I might have thought they were a group of four friends looking to share their playmate for the night. The image of being strapped to a bed while four muscular shirtless men in face paint take turns ravishing my body sends another set of tremors through me. The idea has merit.
Too bad you’re not into sharing.
Yeah, there is that. But a girl can fantasize.
“See something you like over there, Little Devil?” A deep, masterful voice, dripping with desire, speaks low in my ear from behind. “Perhaps I could be of assistance if you’d like to share your thoughts?”
“I would, but a girl needs to keep some fantasies to herself. You know? For those lonely nights at home,” I tease, turning my head slightly and raising a challenging brow. I can barely make out the side of his face covered in face paint.
“Hmm. So, the horns aren’t just part of the costume. You truly are a devil.” His breath whispers across my neck and mybody goes on full alert. His finger lightly rubs along the red satin ribbon tied at my neck holding my dress up. If he were to tug it just right, the entire dress would fall to the floor, exposing theotheroutfit I’m wearing underneath. Part of me hopes he does. This room is filled with all sorts of ways to put my special harness to use.
Thought you weren’t into exhibitionism?
Hmm. Maybe.
If his skills in the bedroom are as seductive as his voice, this could turn out to be one hell of a night after all.
“Are you looking to fall into temptation?” I ask, turning to see the face of my admirer. I’m shocked to find a man dressed all in black with similar face paint to the dungeon monitors. Though his makeup is more intense. His jawline is sharper, giving him more of a reaper feel than just a skeleton. The intensity in his olive-colored eyes and the way they seem to glow in the dim lighting is both thrilling and mesmerizing.
His fingers trace a lazy path along my collarbone. His eyes narrow as they follow. “Hmm. Definitely the tattoo,” he murmurs to himself.
I’m about to ask what he’s talking about, but when his eyes meet mine again, the only words that come out are, “Who are you?”
“Most people would refer to me as Death.” He skims his finger under my bracelet, playing with the charm.
No.
It was a setup.
Hex must’ve known he was here. They planned this.
Why?
“I see.” I say, fighting to keep the irritation out of my voice. After all, I don’t know if they’re both in on this little joke or if it’s just Hex.
