Chapter 6 - Levana
The last three dayshad been filled with an unease I couldn’t quite get rid of. In class, I squirmed around my seat like I had ants in my pants that even Grace noticed. I made up some ass itch sickness she found hilarious enough not to question my odd behavior further. My makeover did get a quick scrutiny and surprise that my mother took an interest in me. I shrugged it off with my usual indifference.
Now, I twisted against the cuffs keeping my hands secured to the seat, probably so I wouldn’t pull off the blindfold. All through the limo ride, I felt like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof. Expectations winded me and at one point, I actually believed I was having a heart attack when the air stuttered in my lungs, and I took in oxygen like it was the last of its kind.
Unsure if I was allowed to talk to the driver, I was surprised when his soft voice echoed around me. “Relax, Miss. You’ll only hinder your chances of enjoying the night if you don’t. Follow their instructions but remember nothing is forced on you that you don’t want.”
Breathing calm into my body, I offered a genuine smile, hoping I was directing it at him and not the window. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Miss.”
When the limo finally drew to a stop, I was calmer than I’d been getting into the vehicle. I heard the door opening before a warm hand settled on my arm, guiding me to climb out. My hands were secured behind my back in a gentle grasp then I was led through a series of turns. The only sound was the gentle click of my heels against the floor, my occasional oops when I stumbled in those unaccustomed high shoes and the soft breathing of the person leading me with their hand on my lower back.
We finally stopped, and I knew the moment I’d entered a room. My senses were immediately flooded with the sweet scent of frankincense, chamomile, and hints of lavender. Someone came up behind me. Their cool hands rested on my shoulders as the one on my arm lifted.
“Keep your eyes closed until you’re asked to open them. Understood?” a soft male voice murmured in my ear.
At my nod, he untied the ribbon holding the blindfold in place. Almost immediately, I felt something else cover my eyes again before he secured it under my high ponytail mother had insisted, I wear, along with silver hoop earrings.
“You may open your eyes now.”
Slowly opening them, I blinked a couple of times as my sight gradually focused. I stood in a massive room lit by soft lighting with a golden reddish hue almost like the shadows of a warm sunset as it slowly dipped. Tall, cream pillars rose from tiled marble floors, disappearing into the high ceilings above. Several girls, too many for a quick count and all dressed in the same red cloaks, stood with me in a large circle around a clump of burning candles in the center.
Noticing their differing masks both in shapes and colors, I touched my face, my fingers tracing the shape of a mask that covered my eyes and nose. Like me, their curious gazes flittered around until a man stepped into the circle. Dressed in a black cloak, the hoodie sheltering everything but a silhouette of his face, he walked the ring, swinging a polished brass censer from a gold chain. He stopped at each girl, asked her to step forward, and swung the censer in front of her, letting the frankincense smoke curl around her while reciting something that sounded vaguely like Latin.
Curious, I waited my turn and when he approached, I noticed a dark mask covered his face and itwasLatin he recited. Was he praying for us or them? Hoping one of the girls didn’t bite off a dick or something worse. I had the sudden urge to giggle but refrained.
When he was done, he set the censer on the floor and addressed the room, his voice loud and deep. “You will remove your cloak and hang it on a hook to your left. Once done, you will proceed through the golden doors on your right. There, you will partake in the food and drinks provided. This is not a party, rather a high society social gathering. If you must converse, do so quietly but do not, I repeat, do not discuss tonight’s event or share any personal details. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” a chorused reply filled the room.
“When you are ready, you will kneel anywhere you please in that room and wait to be selected by a brotherhood member. Let me remind you that you are not obligated to follow the final instruction. However, should you choose not to, you run the risk of not being chosen as an active participant in tonight’s proceedings. Obviously, it will impact the deal with your respective handler.”
Handler?Was he referring to mother?
“Once you have been selected, you will follow the instructions of your master.”
Master?Oh, my God what was this place? I had a sudden vision of a room filled with fat old men, waddling around the room with their big stomachs, ball heads and soft willies hanging in plain sight for all to see.Yuck.He did say I didn’t have to kneel. Then I thought of my mother and her threat. My shoulders sagged on a sigh.
“While tonight is explicitly for the pleasure of the brotherhood, you will not be harmed in any way. Everything you participate in will be consensual. However, if you consent to pain play and cry murder thereafter, I will strongly advise against it. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” filled the room once more.
Was that a threat? A sudden shiver cascaded over my body. I gripped the cloak and pulled it tighter around me, wishing they would let us wear it for the rest of the night. Some of the girls whispered about what he’d just said, engaging my curiosity because mother hadn’t divulged much about tonight.
He clapped his hands once, startling me to focus. “You may proceed.” He gestured to the doors.
One by one, the girls began moving. Silently, they hung their cloaks before disappearing through the golden doors. I put the count at around sixty, could be more, surprising me that this brotherhood had managed to secure that many in one room. I was the last to hang up my cloak and did so reluctantly.
Once I walked through the golden doors, I gasped. Astonished by the gorgeous room that could be mistaken for one out of a historic palace. With its baroque ceiling, large paintings on the walls, dimly lit crystal chandelier, dark carpeting, and tables laden with food, it was like being transported back in time. Men dressed in white suits and black masks stood in little groups either talking, drinking, or eyeing the girls as we entered, adding the touch of modernity to the room.
No willies in sight. That made me smile.
