Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
ANABELLE
It’s the night of the club, and I sit in one of the rooms, waiting for Asher to come get me.
I was wearing a robe earlier as we made our way through the house to the private entrance.
I’d been unconscious the last time he brought me through it, and it felt a little like walking through a cave after we reached the bottom of the stairs—like a tunnel dug out of earth with the odd sconce on the wall to light the way.
My heart beats so fast that I hear it in my ears. My stomach refuses to stop flipping around like an acrobat. Still, I’ve never been more sure that I want something.
I want adventure. I want to experience some of the things I’ve read in my books. Since that night with Asher in the maze, I’ve felt a constant yearning to repeat it, to do more, and this is my opportunity. I’m just nervous about the other people watching, judging.
Pushing those thoughts from my head, I pace the room.
Asher brought what I was to wear tonight to my room earlier this evening.
It’s not even that revealing. I’m wearing a leather bustier that doesn’t really show anything other than an insane amount of cleavage and a leather thong, along with black leather boots that go up over my knees.
He instructed me to leave my hair down and put on no makeup except for my red lipstick.
I feel sexy and powerful in this outfit. Like I can do this.
Wait, no. Not like I can do this—I am doing this.
Immediately after Asher told me to think about it, I knew I wanted to do this. I’d regret it forever if I didn’t take this experience. When would I ever get another chance? And to be with a man like Asher… I’ll never get another chance at that.
I just have to make sure I don’t do something stupid and fall for him.
The door creeps open behind me, and I spin around to find Asher. He comes in with no shirt on and leather pants that fit him perfectly. They aren’t tight, but as he moves toward me, the leather showcases the strength in his thighs and the bulge in his pants.
On his face is a gold mask made to look like a bear, with two fangs protruding from the bottom of it. I see his deep blue eyes take me in.
“Are you ready?” His voice is low and sterner than I’ve heard it over the past few weeks since I made the decision to be here tonight. Maybe this is Dominant Asher.
“I am.” I nod and let my hands fall to my sides from where I was fidgeting with them.
“You remember our safe word?” he asks.
We discussed it on the way through the manor earlier. When Asher asked me what I wanted it to be, his horse’s name was the first thing that came to mind for some reason.
“Poe.”
He nods. “Out there, you will only address me as sir. When I ask you something, every response you give me will end in sir. Understood?”
I can’t tell behind his mask, but I have a feeling that if he weren’t wearing it, I would see him arch one of his dark eyebrows as he does so often. “Understood.”
He stares at me for a moment. The only sound in the room is the music that’s pumping in here from the main room. A sexy, thrumming beat that winds its way around my body like a set of vines.
“Last chance to back out,” he says.
“I’m not backing out, Asher. Let’s go.” I step around him and walk to the door—no easy feat in these boots.
He swings the door open and turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
I step into the hallway behind him and follow him to the main room. As soon as everyone’s gazes meet mine, the nerves set in. I’m so exposed. I might not have my nipples or my pussy on display, but the fact that everyone else wears masks and I’m the only one not wearing one makes me self-conscious.
They aren’t in robes like the last time I saw them. Now they’re dressed for the theme in leather and lace. Some women are already topless and have others in their vicinity playing with their breasts. They don’t seem to mind—or notice for that matter. All their attention is on me.
Inhaling a deep breath, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other until we reach the dais at one end, on which stands a St. Andrew’s Cross.
I’ve read enough books to know what it is—a giant X with cuffs on the four ends for hands and feet.
Beside it sits a table with a bunch of instruments on it—blindfolds, whips, crops, paddles, a ball gag. You name it, and it’s here.
Asher helps me up onto the dais as I swallow hard.
I thought there might be some kind of speech or ceremony or something that had to happen before we begin, but as soon as I’m on the dais, Asher takes my hand and leads me to the large X.
It’s padded and covered in black vinyl-type fabric—for easy clean up, I guess.
A blinking red dot in the corner of the room draws my eye, and I realize it’s probably a camera.
When I look over to the opposite corner, I see another.
Asher lifts my right arm and sets about doing up the restraint around it.
My heart beats wildly, at odds with the steady, rolling cadence of the music.
He puts the restraint on my left hand, then crouches behind me, dragging my left leg to the side and wrapping the restraint around it before repeating the action on my right leg.
I don’t dare look behind me because I’m now fully aware that though I wear a thong, my ass is on display to the entire room. And I have to wonder if that’s exactly why Asher has me facing this way, to spare me having to look at everyone.
As he stands from his crouch, he lets his hands slide up the backs of my thighs until they reach the globes of my ass, which he squeezes then spreads apart. Suddenly the cold metal of his mask is there, and I jerk in my restraints.
He continues to stand until his full height is towering behind me. “Last chance.”
I look over my shoulder at him and find his eyes in the mask. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His jaw tenses, and I hear him curse over the music before he steps away and over to the table. When he returns, he trails something up my leg slowly until it reaches my ass cheek, then he repeats the motion on the other side.
He does it a bunch of times, and I relax into the sensation, letting my head loll forward.
Without warning, there’s a stinging sensation against my right ass cheek, then my left.
I moan, but no one hears it over the music.
Again, he hits me on the ass. Slowly, the burning sensation turns into a pleasurable warmth, not only on my ass cheeks but between my thighs.
If I had to guess, he’s using a flogger because while it’s painful, it’s not excruciating. He continues whipping me with the leather until my ass burns, then he moves his efforts to the backs of my thighs, which somehow feel more sensitive than my ass did.
Though my legs are spread, and I’m in restraints, the tingling between my legs intensifies, and I swivel my hips side to side, wanting what I don’t know, just knowing I want more.
Asher leans in close and says in my ear, “You like that?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yes, sir.”
He groans low in his throat. I feel the heat from his bare chest radiating onto my back. “Do you need more?”
“Yes, sir.”
One of his hands grazes over my ass cheek, and I automatically push my ass out, wanting more. I hear him chuckle low in my ear before he steps away. He continues with the flogger, and when he stops minutes later, I’m a panting, sweating mess. I’ve never felt this needy, this desperate for relief.
Asher first undoes my feet from the restraints, then my hands. I groan as I lower my hands, and the blood rushes back into them. Before I can even get my bearings, he whips me around to face the audience. I was so absorbed in what Asher was doing to me, I forgot they were even here.
But now I see all the masked faces pointed in our direction. Some people fondle each other, some are fondling themselves as they watch us. Rather than be creeped out, it gives me a boost of confidence.
“Are you ready to give everyone a show, pet?” Asher says it loudly enough that it can be heard over the music, and I suspect this is more for them than it is for me.
“Yes, sir.”
He bands his arm across my chest and dips his hand down the front of my leather underwear.
When his large finger crests over my clit, I nearly explode.
My breathing grows labored the more he works me, and I squirm in his arms, unable to stay still.
As I crest the mountain of my orgasm, he pulls his hand away.
He leans into my ear. “No one here is going to have the privilege of seeing you come except me.”
He spins me again and uses one hand to apply pressure to my shoulder so that I end up on my knees in front of him. His hard length stretches the leather of his pants, and my tongue comes out of my mouth of its own accord, flitting across my bottom lip.
“Stay on your knees and place your palms on your thighs.” I do as he says while he watches me through his mask with intense eyes. “Don’t move your hands from where they are. Otherwise, you’re going back on that cross, and I won’t be as lenient the second time. Understand?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Gaze still on me, he brings his hands to his pants, undoes the button, and then slowly lowers the zipper until his cock is on display.
My first thought, stupid as it is, is that this is a real man’s cock. It’s thick and veined and perfect in its architecture—as if Michelangelo himself sculpted it. I glance at Asher’s face and see the self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
His hands thread into the hair on either side of my head, and he pulls me forward until I’m millimeters from the end of his rigid length. “Put your tongue on it.”
I inch forward and lick the base of his tip. His cock twitches. Because I like that reaction, I do it again, only this time I lean farther down and run my tongue from the base all the way up to the tip.
“Put it in your mouth. Just the tip.”
I watch him as I wrap my lips around the end and suck gently.
His eyes close under his mask for a moment before they lock with mine. “Again.”
I suck again. And again. The space between my thighs buzzes with arousal, and I wish more than anything that I could take care of myself while I do this.
“You like this, don’t you?”
I pull my mouth off of him. “Yes, sir.”
“Get ready to take all of it. Relax your throat, and don’t fight me, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulls my head forward with both hands, and I part my red lips. He slides into my mouth, and I have to stretch it to fit around his girth. There’s no way I’m going to be able to fit all of him in my mouth.
But I do what he said and relax my throat so that when he pistons his hips and pushes in, he reaches the back of my throat. I gag but manage to keep my hands where he told me to keep them. He pulls out and rocks back in, holding my head in place while he fucks my mouth.
My jaw aches, but I ignore it. The satisfaction and pleasure of being the one to provide this outlet for him is too great to care about that. His eyes are hooded in pleasure behind his mask, and he looks down at me in wonder.
“Keep your eyes on mine.”
I do.
Asher pumps into me over and over until he moves his hands from the side of my face. Using one hand on my chin and the other on the top of my head, he pushes himself as far into my mouth as I can take, curling his abdomen over me and holding me there.
My eyes water, and I panic because I can’t breathe, but just when I think I’m going to have to move my hands and try to push away from him, he pulls out.
I only have a moment to ready myself for his next assault.
Again he pushes himself to the back of my throat and holds himself there, groaning.
This time, he jostles my head a bit, and the tears from my eyes stream down my face.
When he pulls all the way out this time, I feel saliva drip down my chin onto my cleavage.
It’s only when someone moans behind me that I remember we’re in a room in front of a bunch of strangers.
The same seems to be true of Asher because his head snaps up and whatever he sees there has him hauling me to my feet and throwing me up over his shoulder.
He pops off the dais and strides through the room.
I see the feet of people parting behind us like the wake left behind a boat.
I’m not sure where he’s taking me or why, but I know enough not to ask and not to fight him.
I hear the slam of a door and a lock click into place, then he bends down and sets me on my feet.
I stumble back for a second, and he grips my forearm to steady me.
We’re in the room I was waiting in before.
“What are you doing? Did I do something wrong?”
I can’t see his expression because of that golden mask on his beautiful face.
“Go open the top drawer of the table in the corner.”
It’s clear from the tone of his voice that we’re still playing sub and dominant, so I do what he asks. I walk past the bed and open the drawer. All kinds of things are in there—vibrators, dildos, lube, condoms… a knife.
“Grab the knife.”