Chapter 25
Emily’s heels clicked softly on the polished flagstones.
They were four inches, and she still didn’t come to Alec’s shoulder.
The clingy dress he’d chosen dipped so low, it made her second-guess every movement, especially sitting.
She hadn’t worn anything this revealing since the rescue.
Not even a tank top without a jacket. A dab of makeup concealed the fading bruises.
Her hair, worn loose, veiled the lingering burn mark on her neck.
It felt liberating and a little dangerous. As if she’d stepped into someone else’s skin.
Alec walked beside her, strikingly handsome in tailored black, a guiding hand warm on her spine. Skirting the cars parked every which way, she was grateful for his steady presence.
“I’ve never seen it this crowded,” she said, as he steered her around a Lexus partially blocking the walkway.
“The entire membership shows up for Dev’s special events,” he replied. “We were lucky to have found a parking spot.”
Emily gripped Alec’s arm tighter as they climbed the stone steps.
“You’re nervous,” he observed, pausing at the door. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Yes. I want my life to return to normal.”
He squeezed her fingers. “A month ago, you didn’t know this world existed. I’m not sure how normal this is.”
“It feels longer. Some of the people I’ve met here, it’s like I’ve known them forever.”
“That’s good. I want you to feel comfortable here.”
Just inside the front door stood a sleek black sign, etched in silver script:
4th Annual Wicked Games Charity Gala
Consent is sacred. Participation has a price.
Aptly, Chris Isaak’s haunting melody—what a wicked game you play—drifted through the air. Low, aching, and seductive, the lyrics curled around her in a slow, smoky coil.
Cari was in the foyer greeting guests in a crimson gown that brought out the subtle glints of red in her dark hair. Spotting them, she excused herself from the couple she was chatting with and headed their way.
“You two look stunning,” she said, squeezing Alec’s arm then sweeping Emily into a gentle hug. “I’ve wanted to come see you, but Dev said to give it time. Now, you’re here. I’m so glad.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d make it,” Emily admitted, returning the embrace. Cari smelled of vanilla and champagne—familiar and safe.
The door opened behind them, and more members entered.
“We’ll catch up later,” Cari said, sending the new arrivals a little wave. “I have donations to wrangle.” She glanced at her clipboard then angled a smile at Alec. “I see you’ve met the minimum—and then some.”
Emily flushed. “I haven’t given anything. I didn’t know.”
“I covered us both,” he told her quietly.
She nodded, grateful and a little guilty. She hadn’t worked in weeks.
“You’re all set,” Cari said, waving them in. “The labyrinth opens tonight, and there’s a buffet out on the patio. Go enjoy.”
Alec steered her down the hall, his hand never leaving her back. She was glad for his warmth as cool air drifted over her exposed skin, raising goose bumps.
“So, how does this work?” she asked.
“The donation only gets you through the door. To play, you need a ticket. Dev’s aiming to shatter last year’s record.”
“I’m curious about the wicked games,” she admitted.
“There are plenty of them.” His gaze drifted to hers, dark and amused all at once.
Then they turned serious. “Remember, nothing says you have to play tonight. You can just watch, or the patio is open. While I’m on shift, you can hang out there and have a drink, chat with friends.
I’m sure Julia and Deanna will be around. ”
“Are you trying to scare me off?” she teased. “Now, I’m really curious.”
His gaze scanned her face. He must have found what he was searching for, because he nodded, amusement reappearing. “Then let’s see what we can do to appease it.”
The playroom had been transformed. Gone were the dozens of usual stations. In their place stood a handful of larger setups, each cordoned off by velvet ropes.
The sign hanging above the first station read: Bull Riding Challenge.
Hearing a low whirring, Emily rose on tiptoe, straining to see. When someone shifted, the view opened—and she froze, caught between laughing and blushing.
It wasn’t at all what she expected. Three submissives in cowboy hats straddled saddles, heads thrown back, moaning and breathless. Sweat gleamed on one sub’s body. Her thighs trembled, hips grinding against the molded leather.
Alec leaned in. “The Sybians are always a big crowd favorite. Tonight, Dev cranked up the speeds and they have bonus attachments—that’s the buzzing you hear.”
Heat crawled up Emily’s neck—half shock, half fascination.
The pink-cheeked cowgirl called out, “I’m going to come, master.”
“I’d be very disappointed if you did, Andrea,” her dom scolded. “It hasn’t even been three minutes.”
His reprimand only made her louder.
“How do you win?” Emily whispered.
“Best time without coming.”
Andrea’s cries soared, cutting through the music and hum of conversation. “Oh, my god!” she gasped as her body arched. When she convulsed in orgasm, she pitched forward and would have toppled from the saddle if not for her dom’s quick reflexes.
“Wow. Just… wow.” Emily breathed, resisting an urge to fan herself.
“That’s the consensus,” he drawled. “Come on. There’s more to see.”
They moved to the next station where an even larger crowd had gathered. Laughter mixed with male moans and the occasional crude joke from the avid audience.
“In this one, the fastest finisher wins,” Alec said, voice edged with amusement.
She eyed him suspiciously.
“You’ll see.”
On her toes again, Emily caught glimpses of men reclined in chairs, submissives kneeling between their spread legs. A male shout of satisfaction rang out, followed by applause and whistles.
Though she’d already guessed the game, the sign overhead spelled it out: BJ Challenge.
The winner rose, triumphant, grinning as she wiped her mouth. “Four and a half minutes,” she crowed. “No one’s beating my time this year.”
“I hope not,” her dom grumbled, zipping up. “That was fucking humiliating.”
Several of the subs laughed while the men looked on with sympathy.
Emily’s brows lifted. Equal parts titillated and mortified, she drawled, “Moving on…”
Alec smirked but said nothing.
The Sensory Gauntlet was next, the station twice as large as the others.
“That sounds interesting,” Emily murmured, slowing.
Alec guided her to the edge of the crowd, his breath brushing her ear as he explained. “Participants are blindfolded and led through a maze of textures—fur, silk, ice, feathers. Every right guess earns a point.”
A woman in a silk blindfold wearing nothing but panties and nipple jewelry gripped the guide rope and stepped into the gauntlet. Dominants lined either side, implements in hand. The crowd hushed.
The first touch came from behind—a soft, whispering stroke across her shoulders.
“Ooh,” she said, shivering. “Fur?”
“Very good, Lauren,” the domme praised. “It’s rabbit, but I won’t be that much of a stickler. One point.”
She smiled, emboldened, and moved forward.
A moment later, Lauren giggled. “Feathers,” she called, as a boa slid over her breasts.
“Correct.”
Next, a flogger connected crisply with her bottom.
“I’m not sure about that one.” Lauren arched, grinning. “May I have another to be certain?”
“Nice try,” the flogger-wielding dom said, grinning. “Only one to a customer. But you can meet me later in the playroom for a full demonstration, naughty subbie.”
“Yes, sir,” she said brightly. “And that was a leather flogger,” she answered, correct again, before moving on.
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd at her daring. Emily grinned despite herself. Could she ever be that open and uninhibited?
Metal kissed Lauren’s inner thigh. “That’s cool and it tingled a little. Is it… a tuning fork?”
“How did you know that?” the dom asked, suspicious. “Are you peeking?”
“No, sir! I’d never.” Lauren beamed and advanced, clearly enjoying herself.
Droplets hit her shoulders. She hesitated, as the thick substance slid down her chest. “Hmm, it’s sticky. Kind of thick.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maple syrup?”
“So close, but wrong again,” the domme said. “It’s honey.”
Alec leaned in, voice a low rumble. “Mmm. That’s always been my weakness.”
Emily’s breath caught, fingers curling at her sides.
She remembered him at sixteen, sitting at her mother’s kitchen table, devouring buttered biscuits slathered in golden honey and licking his fingers with boyish greed.
A far more adult image entered her mind—Alec nibbling and lappy the sticky stuff from her breasts while her hands were bound behind her.
Her thighs pressed together involuntarily.
“I remember,” she said, breath hitching.
He glanced down, reading her too easily.
The final implement tapped rhythmically up Lauren’s calves. “Drumsticks?” she guessed.
“Correct,” the dom said, giving her a final tap on the hip.
Lauren raised her arms in mock victory. “That brings my score to five. I’ll take it!”
The crowd applauded as she exited the gauntlet, flushed and grinning.
Emily leaned toward Alec. “What does the winner get?”
“A sash and a scene of their choice. Losers have to run the gauntlet again. No feathers or velvet in round two. It’s dom’s choice which means leather, wood, and sting. Knowing Lauren, if she wins, she’ll ask to run the losers’ gauntlet in her sash—several times.”
“Is she a masochist?” she asked, half joking.
“Yep. If she doesn’t leave at the end of the night with a sore ass, she’s not happy.”
When her mouth fell open, Alec gently nudged her chin closed with his finger. “We’ve got all kinds here, baby. Every kink, every craving. No judgment.” He held out his arm. “Shall we explore more?”
Emily’s pulse quickened as they approached the next velvet rope. Inside the station stood a tall, three-sided mirror. A naked submissive faced her own reflection, spine straight, breath shallow.