Chapter 24
24
T urns out, you can have an unexpected threesome in the morning, and have to attend a black-tie event surrounded by secret society members at a sex club in the evening.
This world is curious and bizarre, and no one seems to blink that everything revolves around the whims of Noire House.
Evidently, tonight’s occasion isn’t an event like the auction, or other formal gatherings that are on regular rotation—all tidbits of information I managed to pluck from Grey over breakfast earlier today. Apparently, not even an orgasm will unlock his vault of secrets, because he simply strutted around being devilishly charming and evasive in his dress slacks, shirt, and vest combo that looks so good on him I could weep.
Although he did give me just enough to get by with. No, this wasn’t a pre-planned event. Yes, I do need to go. No, I don’t have to do anything except be in attendance.
Along with those painfully sparse crumbs of information, he advised me that this was more of a requirement of my initiation to be seen within the world of Noire House. While I don’t have to participate in anything that might happen within the walls of the club housed at the mansion, it’s somehow important for the shadowy figures who claim to be my future to see how well I hold my composure amongst the elite of the Anguis.
Or some eye-roll-worthy bullshit to that effect.
What I do know, is that I have absolutely no intention of letting anyone touch me in that place—hell, I might not even sit on any furniture if what I’ve read about sex clubs is anything to go by—and if I’m there, then just maybe I’ll have a hope of finding out something about whoever these mysterious assholes are that think it’s alright to pluck someone from their life and demand their obedience.
I’ve been half-expecting my next summons from Hawke to arrive, and yet, other than his message about calling Rita, I haven’t heard a thing. Even though I completed every part of his silly little form and promptly returned it. Fine by me, the less time I have to spend around that prick, the better.
The fragment of my fucked-up brain that protests at the notion he hasn’t required my presence, or acknowledged the questionnaire, is a stupid bitch who needs to shut the hell up.
I literally spent this morning letting two men fuck me senseless. What on earth I was thinking, or why I allowed them to use me the way they did, is a whole matter I don’t know how to unpack. So I’m squarely shoving that in a box in the corner and sealing the lid closed.
Sometimes a girl just needs to get laid, and goddamn if those two don’t know how to do all of that and more.
Just thinking about them both, and the intensity of each orgasm they dragged out of me, well, it left my cheeks heating at various points throughout the day while abandoned to my own company.
Grey and Angel didn’t stick around for long after our shower and breakfast, and I can’t say that I expected anything different. At least it gave me the opportunity to have some quiet time in order to decompress and get my head on straight before this evening.
So here I stand at the entrance to the mansion, in another beautiful dress, this one a deep maroon in a velvety texture that makes me feel like some sort of vampire queen about to attend a night of gothic debauchery. Which… I guess, isn’t that far from the truth.
A skull mask has even been provided for me to wear. Although, as I turn the lightweight skeletal face covering in my hands, I can’t quite bring myself to put it on just yet. Something in me feels like I’m sealing my own fate by adopting this custom that they all seem to adhere to.
There aren’t as many people milling around as on the night of the auction, or the first time I came here. But the energy is certainly electric.
Grey stands on one side, Angel on the other. I don’t hate how it feels, and that thought gets shoved very quickly and forcefully inside that same box with all the spinning thoughts about these two men and what it means now that we’ve fallen into bed together.
“We’ll escort you through into the first room, then from there, our instructions are to leave you to explore on your own.” Grey reaches for my mask and lifts it from my hands. He steps behind me and sets the covering against my face. It’s stylized, only a half-mask of sorts that sits cool and firm against my brow and nose, exposing my mouth.
“What am I supposed to do?” I fidget a little with the thin shoulder straps of my dress. Having him so close, his hands so near to my exposed neck leaves my skin prickling and tingling.
He allowed his lips to explore my ear this morning, but other than that, I haven’t felt his mouth and I’m pretty sure I would do very questionable things to have him stoop forward and kiss my neck.
“Wander. Explore. See what might intrigue you, little flower.” He says the words in a voice so low and husky, it sends a flurry of goosebumps across my already sensitive skin.
“Can’t you both come with me?”
Angel shifts at my side and his body language is undeniably in the category of wanting to do exactly that. Right at that moment, an urge grabs me to reach out for his hand, because I don’t want him to leave my side, and yet the other man in this equation seems to know exactly what’s running through my mind.
“Not tonight.” Grey steps in front of me, hands tucked loosely in his pockets. “Although we won’t be far at any moment. Don’t forget, we know all the secrets of this place, so we’ll be closer than you think.”
Grey jerks his head for me to follow up the grand staircase—it’s just as I remember from the first night I came here, although decidedly more opulent and glittering for a gathering such as this one—and as I climb the stairs, I feel Angel’s touch brush my elbow.
When my attention flicks to him, he points at the clutch I have in my other hand.
Your phone.
Everything I’ve read about sex clubs tells me that’s one of the cardinal rules: leave all devices at the door. “I’m allowed to keep it with me? I can use it if I need to?”
He nods.
“But…” I falter. This is exactly where I have no idea how this thing works between us. I don’t have his number. Would he even want to communicate with me over text? He certainly made it clear that he didn’t want to before. So how am I to know if he’s changed his mind? I know he does with Grey, and probably Hawke, too, judging by the way he’s been passed instructions to deliver me to Noire House prior to now.
Quickly shaking my head to clear the intrusion of questions, thoughts, and emotions vying for space in the front of my mind, I give him a brief smile.
“Ok, I will.”
The massive man at my side seems thoughtful for a moment, appearing satisfied with that answer. I continue making my way up the stairs, following behind Grey’s lead, all while damn near having to bite my tongue to stop from staring at how good they both look.
I’ve seen plenty of Grey wearing that three-piece suit like a second skin, but I don’t think I’d really appreciated seeing Angel dressed entirely in black. He’s in a buttoned shirt and pants, and it’s a dangerous thing indeed for me to be seeing them both looking like unadulterated temptation, just as I’m walking into a den of pleasure and consensual depravity.
Especially while my pussy still vividly recalls, with just a perfect hint of soreness left there, every thrust and drag of them against my inner walls from earlier this morning.
As we reach the top of the stairs, our direction turns away from the location that begins to feel familiar, and we walk through an imposing set of double doors featuring a gold ouroboros snake. The gilded serpent curled around on itself, eating its own tail.
An eternal cycle.
That notion sends a little shudder through me. It could be down to my state of being perpetually on-edge about everything and everyone in this place, but it feels more than a tad ominous. Like we’re all somehow locked in cycles of power and pleasure and living out those extremely human demands of the flesh.
Once we enter through the doorway, I realize with a heavy swallow that this is where tonight’s activities will certainly be occurring. The place isn’t exactly crowded, the mood is casual, and groups are scattered around luxurious booths and seating. Everything is sumptuous, from the lighting to the textures of every finish throughout the space.
It feels like stepping back in time, to an era when decor was gilded and ornate, yet it’s somehow modern at the same time. Either way, it just screams sensuality. The kind of place where you’d easily be persuaded into discovering new things about yourself, or finally taking action on long-hidden fantasies.
Along one wall is a long bar, with mirrored shelving and a glow of red lighting casting the entire scene in a reddish shade that immediately sets the tone.
As my eyes bounce all over the place, I recognize the bartender as the one I had been briefly introduced to while at the auction. William, was that his name? Then, as I scan the crowd, I see some wearing masks similar to mine, while others clearly have forgone the need for their own tonight. I catch sight of Keisha seated at a booth. She’s stroking the face of a woman with flame-red hair and a thick leather collar around her neck to match the corset she wears.
Oh, right. Collars and flogging and flesh on display are all part of how a world like this revolves. If I’d forgotten for a second about this being any regular bar then that small sight just reminded me that there are far more particular tastes being indulged beyond this room.
Angel catches my elbow once more, and holds up two fingers, before gesturing toward William at the bar.
“Two?” I’m not sure what that is. Two hours? Two people? Two rooms?
He mimes drinking something, then holds up the same two digits again to reinforce his message.
“Oh. Two drinks?” Presumably, their limit for guests. Thanks to my internet perusing, I know it is a relatively common rule for this kind of establishment. This time, I receive a curt nod confirming that’s what he meant.
Well, I know what I certainly won’t be doing while I’m here. On another occasion and in another time of my life, a drink might have been a perfect way to help put myself at ease, but I’ll be keeping well away from anything alcoholic. Or unsealed. Fuck, even that doesn’t really guarantee anything in my experience, so I just give him a look that says I understand.
Then, they’re gone.
Angel doesn’t linger like I hoped he might. It feels as though I took one glance around the room, only to turn back and discover they had evaporated into thin air. My pulse quickens as I feel like I’ve been left on a platform in the middle of all these people, naked and entirely exposed for their assessment.
This is so immensely fucked up. I’m here to wander around and be observed as to how I carry myself this entire time? I suppose that’s why I’ve been ordered into Hawke’s stupid lessons on how to be an adequate sexual ornament and sub.
It’s laughable, and not going to happen. Not if I still have a breath left. I’ll find a way out of this, isn’t that partly why I didn’t attempt to resist the command to come here, after all? I’m not entirely sure what I hope to find, but I won’t know until I start prying around and hope that maybe one of these people knows something.
Oh god. I’m potentially going to have to act a role here that makes my skin crawl, but I can certainly handle a little flirting if it might mean that I find a way to save my own life.
However, clearly, even just the thought of Hawke Calliano drifting into my mind works a dose of black magic, summoning his presence like a demon called to his ancient seal. The man himself materializes across the far side of the room, speaking with a group of men and women. That aloof expression he carries around, oh, so very well is affixed in place. Looking down his nose at others must be the fuel that sees him through each day. Or maybe that’s just the act of feasting upon unwitting souls.
As I watch on, their group begins to head up a flight of stairs, with Hawke clearly ushering them along and intending to follow. Which spurs me along, because I’m evidently supposed to explore this place tonight, and while I don’t want to have anything to do with him, I also don’t want to be left here on my own now that Grey and Angel aren’t anywhere to be seen.
Besides, I definitely do not want to park my ass at that bar and order a drink.
So, I keep a careful distance behind the group, doing my best to follow their direction without drawing attention to myself. Two women walk with him, hanging on his every word. The notion is laughable, because the man has nothing nice to say in my experience.
Brushing my thumb over the raised line running down my other palm as I walk, the slightly itchy wound appears to be healing without any trouble, but it serves as a brief reminder of his momentary attentiveness that lingered for a blink of an eye. Right before he morphed back into his natural state as an asshole of epic proportions.
When I reach the top of the stairs, the energy flips dramatically. Not just that, but the temperature, the lighting, the noise… it all combines to tell me that wherever I have just come from is the area where a little fondling and public affection is approved, encouraged even.
Now, I’m very much in an area where things are far more out in the open.
This is the part where you could be fucking in public, and no one would look twice. Or actually, maybe they would, and they’d openly enjoy watching you writhe through an orgasm.
The sensory overload up here halts me in my tracks. I find myself at a loss to know where to go or look because it feels all too weird being here by myself, exposed in amongst all of this. Like I’ve been tossed in a viper pit and left to try and leap my way to safety without getting bitten .
And that’s when it hits me. Of course, that’s what this feels like, because it’s exactly how these people want me to feel. They want to see if I’m able to hold my own in this environment, and Hawke’s words echo in my mind, damn him.
Wouldn’t you rather learn to swim, than drown?
Well, shit. Now, it would seem I’m really being turned inside out by all this if I’m quoting advice from Hawke Calliano. So I pick a line of sight and make a direct and somewhat confident effort to glide toward a doorway that has the least number of limbs blocking my path.
All the while, my cheeks start to flame, because out of the corner of my eye, I see many, many examples that are all too familiar reminders of my exploits this morning. While I’m not embarrassed in the slightest by being with both Grey and Angel at the same time, I’m at risk of getting immensely turned on.
God, I just need to find a quiet place to land. Surely, there is something like that around here. The room is much darker than downstairs, but the doorway I’m beelining for in question is illuminated with a sultry red light, and I make my way through into an even darker hall.
There are multiple large windows in something like a horseshoe shape. It’s clearly a viewing area, with a few people standing around watching what lies beyond each glass pane.
Faint music plays and at least in here, it’s quiet, with an energy of watching rather than participating. It feels like being in some sort of strange modern art gallery, where the artwork lies behind a partition, and the viewer gets to create their own experience by choosing to watch from any number of the half dozen or so windows on offer.
At least I don’t feel so awkward about being alone, as there are others in here without groups, content to position themselves to take in the pleasures on display.
The first window I walk past clearly shows a group of three men and two women, who are all very enthusiastically engaged in oral activities.
The next is almost opaque; however, there are just enough glimpses of the shadowy figures beyond the glass. Judging by the thrusting going on, and the number of limbs I can make out at a quick glance, there’s another group inside who are well in the throes of their own multi-partner adventure.
Wandering to the third window, I see that in this particular room, there is actually a door to enter by and choose to take part, if interested.
It appears this room is an invitation to be part of the occasion, to watch from up close, or to remain outside and simply view the entire scene as an impartial observer. What is happening inside this room seems to involve a show, or an intentional performance. There is a woman lying over another woman’s lap, with her gorgeous dress hooked up around her waist and ass exposed. A scattering of people watch on as the woman is spanked repeatedly.
From this vantage point, I can’t hear the sounds she makes, but with each open palm slap against her reddened flesh, her mouth parts, and I can almost taste her moans that drop past those painted lips.
A coil of heat surges through me, seeing the way she lies there, looking blissed out and enjoying every moment. After half a dozen more strokes, the woman administering the spanking rubs over the spot. She takes care to readjust the other woman’s dress, while at the same time fondling between her legs. It’s evident they’re both enjoying themselves, as the moment she is gradually and carefully moved into a seated position, they kiss heatedly.
When they draw back and look around, there are appreciative gestures, and the small crowd enjoying their performance seems eager for more.
“Quite a sight.” A voice appears at my side, and in all honesty, I’d been so caught up in watching the scene on the other side of the glass, I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings.
“Oh, yes…” I say. A little startled, embarrassed even, as I turn toward the man’s voice. Why does it feel as though I was just caught spying on something I wasn’t supposed to see?
At my side is an older gentleman, maybe in his fifties. It’s hard to tell with the mask he wears covering half of his face. From what I can see, his hair is mostly dark, with flecks of silver at the temples. His appearance is illuminated by the soft glow of the room where another public spanking is starting to unfold, this time between multiple partners. Despite those gray hairs, he’s not old-looking at all. The man is lean, muscled, and carries an air about him that tells me he’s more than comfortable within these halls of pleasure-seeking.
He gives me a polite smile, keeping his hands tucked behind his back. “Are you planning to join them, or do you prefer to watch?”
My mouth opens and closes, without words forming, and that makes him smile a little wider as he shakes his head.
“I apologize. I sometimes forget the order of conversation inside this place. So often the immediate questions asked are more of this nature, than not.” The man almost looks apologetic.
“Understandable, I guess.” I offer.
“You’ll have to forgive me, trampling in here and forgetting my manners, especially with someone who looks as stunning as you…”
His pause is intentional. Giving me an opening for an introduction, and I can’t help but hesitate for a second. Nothing has been said about not talking to others, in fact, Grey himself told me to explore, and who knows, might be watching to determine how well I hold myself in this environment.
“I’m Poe.” I quickly answer when I see him tilt his head, as if he’s about to offer another apology. “Sorry, it’s all a little new for me, this place.” I figure if I go with honesty, maybe I’ll be more likely to find some potential ways to dig for information.
You know, the helpless damsel who needs guidance in this world and all.
“I see. Then you’ve discovered the voyeur rooms.” He turns and looks back in the direction I just came from. “Out there is one of the public areas, where public play is encouraged…”
I can’t help but smirk. “That, I figured out, fairly quickly.”
He inclines his head. “Of course. Beautiful and smart. I’ll bet you’ll have this place all worked out in no time.”
“Might have had something to do with the nakedness and the four-way going on right at the top of the stairs.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip to bite back the laugh. “It really didn’t take much guesswork.”
The man beside me smiles knowingly, and just as he goes to speak, I feel a hand wrap my upper arm from the other side of my body. It’s so unexpected and such a fierce grip I can’t help but jolt. The instinct to wrench my arm away kicks in immediately because I’m still firmly on edge when it comes to the threat of being grabbed by strangers.
“There you are, Poe.” The voice attached to the figure looming out of the shadows is none other than the mansion’s finest asshole himself.
“Ah, Hawke. Good to see you tonight.” From the other side of me, the man greets him like an old friend.
I feel the grip on my arm grow punishing.
“Andreas,” he replies, with a lightness that certainly is not replicated in the stranglehold he has on me. If this dick isn’t careful, he’s going to leave me bruised.
“Are you here to watch, also? I know that’s your style.” The man named Andreas tips a nod toward the room.
“We’re actually one of the planned exhibitions this evening; I’d just been looking for Poe here so we can prepare,” he says. It's cool and smooth the way those words roll off his tongue and I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
My heart leaps into my throat. Like fucking hell, I’m going to let this man lay a hand on me in front of other people. Giving in and attending his stupid little lessons behind closed doors is humiliating enough, but this? Out in a public space where others can see? That wasn’t anything I was aware of, and he can get fucked if he thinks I’ll go along with that.
“Ah, that will be well received, I’m sure.” The other man says knowingly. “You know how much the members enjoy an opportunity to have your talents on display.”
Those calloused fingers keep digging in the longer we stand here, and I’m about two seconds from demanding to be let go, to leave with Andreas, anything to get out of Hawke’s punishing grip.
“Are you planning to stay long tonight?” Hawke tugs my arm, inserting himself between me and the other man in a move that feels entirely belittling, and leaves me fuming. What the hell is his problem? It’s as if he doesn’t believe me capable of even having a conversation. And now are these two just going to descend into ‘man chat’ all while I’ve been informed I’m to be put on display any moment now? What the hell kind of joke does he think this is?
Is that all I am in his eyes? A stupid girl who is good for nothing but kneeling quietly on a cushion with my eyes fixed on the floor until given permission otherwise?
Andreas hums to himself for a moment. “No, I was only briefly passing through. An old friend or two might join me this evening.”
He starts to walk away, then turns back. “Lovely to meet you, Poe. I do hope to see you again sometime.”
I don’t even get a chance to speak my reply because Hawke pushes me ahead of him, through the door into the spanking room. As soon as we enter, multiple sets of eyes fall on us. There’s a cacophony of sound coming from the foursome currently occupying center stage in this particular performance. This time, there’s an actual flogger involved, with the recipients jerking and moaning each time the thin strips strike against their flesh.
“What the fuck?” I try to hiss as quietly as possible.
“Did he touch you?” Hawke doesn’t look at me, but I can feel something dangerous vibrating off him in rippling waves.
I’m utterly confused. “Of course not. He was being polite and respectful, unlike you barging in and grabbing my arm—”
Hawke’s head whips to stare at me, and even in this lighting—the kind that makes everything seem claimed by deep shadows—I can see those blue eyes are sharpened on mine.
“That man...” He pauses and looks around, before his nostrils flare. “Never mind. Go run along and explore; that is what you’re here for, after all.”
Unfuckingbelievable. Who the hell does he think he is? Dismissing me as if I’m not worthy of a second more of his time?
I feel my fists clench and unclench while contemplating how long I have to wait before I can justify sending a text to Grey, feebly asking for his help. Because the other man’s phone number I have in my possession is the one currently giving me the cold shoulder.
I’ll gladly give him a kick to his balls in return.
The summary dismissal stings worse than falling face-first into a patch of nettles, and I’m about to exit the room in a huff, when I see a figure latch onto his forearm.
She’s a petite thing with dark hair similar to my own, wearing what looks like nothing but a tiny white belt, instead of a dress, stretched over her perfect bubble butt. I thought we were supposed to be dressed in black-tie attire. She looks like her dress has already gone MIA.
A seething heat flushes my chest as I watch him bend to talk into her ear, and she bites her lip. Of course, this girl looks all sorts of perfectly obedient, as if she’d gladly kneel for hours and moon over his polished shoes.
I can’t help it. My feet carry me the few paces to be back by his side, and I feel her eyes on me as I position myself right where I’d been only moments before.
“…of course.” She exhales, visibly gushing with adoration as I arrive mid-way through whatever is dribbling out her mouth. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been in here. I didn’t think I’d have the chance again.”
“A chance for what?” I bat my eyelashes and steamroll my way into their conversation.
Her eyes bounce between me and Hawke. Oh, so dutifully, she waits for him to answer instead of doing it herself. My urge to eye-roll this bitch is almost painful.
Those broad shoulders shrug inside his perfectly fitted suit jacket. “Ordinarily, guests can choose to solely watch… however, for me, it’s a little different. There’s an expectation I’ll participate if I enter one of these rooms. We were just discussing the nature of the scene.”
Oh, so this is his good little obedient ass to spank in front of others? When I’m supposedly the sub he’s training.
I don’t think so, bitch.
He might be an asshole, but as of this moment, he’s my asshole, and like hell, I’m going to play second string to some other woman.
Squaring my shoulders, and shoving my tits forward, I look up at him, plastering on my best effort at a suitably docile face.
“Then, it’s fortunate you have me already here for that… Sir.”