Chapter 26
After driving for what felt like an eternity, the armored truck finally slows. We stop at a massive, gray building on the edge of the city. I can see the neon signs from here, and I know exactly where we are.
I twist in my seat, staring at Priest.
“The Devil’s Playhouse? We’re going to a sex club?”
He ignores me, climbing out of the truck.
Roxy told me about this place once. She tried to work here but they turned her away. Too innocent, they said. Not the right kind of experience. I remember laughing, asking what that even meant. Now that the Sovereigns are here…I think I know.
I follow behind Wolff and Raze. Priest reaches the back door first, speaking low to a man in a suit. He passes over a stack of cash, and the man’s gaze lingers on me before he unlocks it.
“Don’t look so scared, stray,” Raze murmurs in my ear, his nearness making me flinch. “Your keeper already warned them not to touch you. Warned everyone. Shame. We usually share.”
We? Him and Priest. The thought hits hot and wrong, and for a heartbeat I picture it—what that could mean. Raze and Priest and—
No. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought. “I would never let either of you fuck me.”
His breath ghosts my ear. “Pathetic stray, you don’t let us do anything. You’re not in charge. We are.”
My stomach tightens, but he’s already stepping past me, Wolff not far behind him.
Priest says something to them before they walk inside and gives me a look that says ‘stay close’ as we walk to the end of a hallway and into a dimly lit club that’s nothing like the places I’ve been.
Dark red couches. Deep black floors. A bar that stretches from one end of the room to the other.
Women everywhere. On tables, in cages, hanging from the ceiling, their bodies on display as they sway to the music.
A woman wearing a collar crawls over to Priest, her eyes lowered, her hands on the floor. “Sir?” she asks. “May I please you?”
His gaze flickers to the leash in her hand, then to her mouth, before he glances at me. I’m sure my face says it all. Confusion. Anger. Disgust.
He says something too quiet to catch, and the woman shifts toward Raze instead. Raze grins, takes the leash, and leads her off without a backward glance.
Priest’s eyes find mine again. “Just think of all the things I could teach you, kitten. You’d make a beautiful pet.”
I roll my eyes. “In your dreams.”
My gaze darts to a man on one of the couches, pants shoved to his thighs, fist working his cock as a woman kneels between his legs.
Her lips glide up and down, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, his hips bucking with each thrust into her throat.
He grunts, head thrown back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her throat as he forces her deeper. I look away.
Another couch has two women pressed together, dresses pushed down, tongues devouring each other. A third crouches behind them, face buried between their thighs, her fingers slick and pumping into their pussies.
I take a step back and hit solid muscle. Priest’s chest against my spine, his breath warm against my ear.
“See something you like?”
My throat tightens as heat crawls up the back of my neck.
My stomach knots, revulsion and curiosity fighting for space.
I’m no stranger to public sex. Sometimes dancers at the club would get off in the middle of the floor or let out-of-control parties fuck them with objects. But this…this is different.
A stage dominates the center of the room.
I watch, mesmerized, as a woman walks out wearing black boots and a sheer corset, carrying a riding crop.
Another woman and a man follow her out. The dominatrix shoves the girl onto a padded bench and begins binding her wrists, ankles, and thighs.
Even a strap across her torso, locking her down completely.
The man is fitted with a leather collar, his cock already hard.
“They’ll use her. Just the way you like being used.”
I jerk before I can stop it. My body betrays me with the heat that shoots low in my belly. I hate the reaction. Hate how he knows.
Priest chuckles. “Good kitten. Keep watching.”
The dominatrix gestures. The man steps forward and starts roughly fucking the girl’s mouth. She gags around him, throat bulging, while the dominatrix spanks her. The woman’s cries are half-pain, half-ecstasy.
“They’ll take her every way,” Priest whispers. “Throat. Pussy. Ass. Until she’s sobbing. Until she loves it.”
My knees threaten to buckle.
“Enjoy the show.” His tone slides into a smirk. I catch only his broad back and black shirt as he walks away.
What is wrong with me?
I’m acting like a scared little girl, and I fucking hate that. But I’m so aware of my body. Every beat of my heart. Every inch of my skin. The way my lungs seem to struggle to take in air.
I can’t look away. I don’t know how long I’ve been watching, how many times they’ve changed positions, but the woman on the stage is wrecked.
Her face is streaked with tears and ruined makeup.
Her hair is matted, stuck to sweat, spit, cum.
Her body is trembling, painted with bruises and bite marks.
She’s still being used. Her hips twitch. Her throat is raw from screaming.
And still, she moans.
The wetness between my thighs is impossible to ignore.
Shame burns under my skin. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why is my body reacting? I hate the thought of Priest doing that to me. Hate that he’s the only man who’s ever touched me and the only one I think of as I watch them. That alone makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
I don’t realize how close I’ve gotten until my knees bump the edge of the platform. The woman sobs. But her hips still lift to meet their thrusts.
“Curious little kitten.” The words melt against the shell of my ear.
I flinch hard, pain stabbing through my side. I clutch my ribs, staggering back. Priest’s arm clamps around my waist, hoisting me clean off the floor. I’m nothing in his grip. A doll in the arms of a fucking monster.
“Stop!”
“Shhh,” he breathes into my hair.
I writhe in his hold, but he doesn’t budge. My legs dangle as he pins me to the edge of the stage, his chest to my back, his breath hot against my neck.
“Let go.” I fight against his hold, but it’s useless.
His fingers find my waistband. His hand slips under the fabric, his fingers rubbing the outside of my underwear. He’s barely touching me and it’s enough to make my legs shake. The warmth between my thighs is spreading and I hate it.
“No, don’t…” I start, but it dies when he presses harder on my clit.
I try to twist away again, but he’s already moving.
Lowering me to the ground only enough to spread my feet apart.
One of his hands clamps around my wrist and I hear the soft whisper of something sliding tight. A tie. A fucking restraint.
“Wait—what are you—”
Too late.
My wrists are bound, secured to the stage’s anchor loops. I tug, but the more I pull, the tighter they get.
“What are you doing?”
Threading his fingers through my hair, he shoves me forward. Bending me over the platform. My arms locked and spread out. I try to twist and kick my legs back but it’s useless.
“Don’t look away. Watch her. Watch what happens when a girl gives in.”
I shake my head, panic catching in my throat. But my eyes are locked—on the woman writhing in pleasure and pain. On the strangers ravaging her body.
“You’re sick,” I whisper.
His breath ghosts down my spine. “And you’re wet for it. Now, everyone is going to watch me eat your cunt.”
“No! Let me go!”
His hands slide down my sides to my hips, then to my ass, pulling my leggings down to my thighs. The cool air hits my skin, and the thong does little to hide me.
I don’t want this. I don’t want him. Please stop, I want to say. Please stop making me feel anything at all.
But when the word finally leaves my mouth, it’s barely a whisper, and I can’t tell if I’m begging him or myself.
“Please…”
“Fuck…you make it seem like I have a choice.” His tongue slides down my ass cheek, followed by gentle bites.
He spreads my legs, dragging the thin strip of fabric to the side with a rough, impatient gesture.
“Like I don’t already know the pathetic fucking sounds you make with my tongue buried inside your pussy. ”
He sucks a mark into the skin at the top of my thigh.
“What? …What are you talking about?” He’s never done this before… We’ve never done this before. I pull against the restraints again, trying to twist my body to look at him. “What the hell are you talking about, Priest?!”
His hands tighten on my thighs, with a force that borders on pain.
“Shh.” His tongue slides along the crease between my legs. I squirm, and he slaps my ass hard enough to make me yelp, the sound drowned out by the moans and skin slapping happening on stage only a few feet away from me.
“Stop!” I feel his breath against my core as I struggle to close my thighs, but his hands stop me, forcing my legs apart.
“Listen to yourself. Your body doesn’t want me to stop, does it? You need me to keep going.”
My head is spinning, and I’m so fucking confused. Why is my body responding to him? Why am I letting him do this to me?
“Priest…” His name dies on a breathy moan as his tongue drags down my slit. “Fuck…”
He groans, his mouth sucking and licking.
Teasing and tasting. His large palms holding me down, bent over the stage.
Completely exposed to everyone here. My chest tightens and my breathing picks up.
His thick finger begins to press into me, and I let out a low moan, my body tightening around the invasion.
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His mouth barely leaving my core as he talks.
“Please, don’t do this to me…”