by Katee Robert
Her skeptical look almost makes me smile. Almost. I feel eyes on us as I press my hand to her back and guide her through the lounge to the door guarded by a dark-skinned woman with her long black braids pulled back from her face. She gives me a once over. “Look what the dog dragged in.”
“Allecto.” I have no idea what her real name is. Hades has three women who answer directly to him, his Furies, and they go by the names of their mythological counterparts. Hades takes his Greek shit seriously.
Meg is my favorite because she likes to get down in the dirt with the rest of us. Allecto and Tis—Tisiphone—are more in the way of hard asses. The real thing that counts against them is that they hate me. Always have.
She turns that dark gaze on Jasmine and raises her brow. “She’s not your usual type.”
I silently curse as Jasmine tenses. “Hades already gave his approval. Stop swinging your metaphorical dick around and let us through.”
“You’re just mad my metaphorical dick is bigger than yours.” She rolls her eyes. “Have fun. Don’t break the rules or I start breaking kneecaps.”
I can’t say for certain that her threat is empty. I’ve been a member here five years, and I’ve never seen anyone step out of line in a way that required Allecto to step in. The worst have been a couple lovers’ spats and one memorable fight between two Doms who didn’t want to share a particular partner. The lovers were strongly encouraged to fight in one of the private rooms Hades keeps and the idiot Doms had their memberships revoked.
“You don’t have to worry about us.”
“Mmhmm.”
I nudge Jasmine through the door and exhale slowly. She glances at me. “She makes you nervous.”
“Anyone with the tiniest bit of common sense is nervous around Allecto.”
A small smile pulls at the edges of Jasmine’s full lips. “I think I like her.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
She stops short and her gaze ping-pongs around the room we’ve entered. The lounge we just left is designed for a place to socialize as desired. This is the public playroom. It’s early yet, so there are only two scenes going on. “See something you like?”
Her attention narrows on the pair on the spanking bench. The man is bent over it, his forearms braced on the shorter blocks. The woman at his back wields a paddle with ease and familiarity, each smack of contact slightly overlapping the one before it, leaving his ass and upper thighs red. “I—” Jasmine swallows hard. “This is a lot to take in.”
Protectiveness surges, nearly taking me out at the knees. Before I can think better of it, I hook an arm around her waist and pull her to the corner closest to us. It’s got a handful of deep chairs that are excellent for fucking, but that’s not what I have in mind. Not at the moment, anyways.
I drop into the chair with her in my lap. Jasmine immediately tries to stand, but I band my arm across her waist. “Relax, baby girl. We have all night.”
“I thought you wanted to set the tone.”
I do. But not at her expense.
Damn it, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I always wanted Jasmine’s consent. I’m not a complete monster. But her emotional state never factored into my plans. Not until we walked into The Underworld and it truly hit home how fucking sheltered she’s been. I knew, of course. Part of the reason I was so damn sure she’d choose me was because of that fact.
I hadn’t bargained on the downsides of it.
“Breathe.” I hold her tight to me until she relaxes against my chest. “There’s nothing going on in this place that isn’t completely consensual.”
“I’m aware,” she snaps. “I know how this works. I read. A lot.”
I’ll just bet she does. I spread my hand across her stomach, brushing my thumb along the underside of her breast. “Is there a lot of spanking in these books of yours?”
“Some of them.” The ire drains out of her voice, leaving her a little breathy. “Sometimes it’s whips. Sometimes canes.”
I chuckle. I can’t help it. “Why don’t we learn to crawl before you start sprinting toward the canes and whips?” I drop my free hand to her hip and stroke her thigh where the slit in the dress has bared it. “Do you like pain, or do you just like the fight?” No question that she does like the fight. We’ve more than established that at this point.
“I like the fight,” she confirms. “I don’t know about the pain.”
“We have nothing but time.” It’s not quite a lie. As long as Ali is in the wind, he’s a serious threat. I need him wrapped up and taken out with the rest of the trash before I can finish solidifying my base. Jasmine’s presence, her submission, helps with the players circling outside our territory, but it’s not enough on its own. “Walk me through what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
I smile against her dark hair. Of course she isn’t sure she wants to. Every time she bares a bit of herself to me, she links us more firmly together. Jasmine’s smart enough to know that eventually we’ll reach the point of no return.
She just hasn’t come to terms with the fact that we reached the point of no return the second she looked at me with lust in those dark eyes and dared me to catch her.
Chapter 10
Jasmine
Across the room, the woman—the Domme—finishes the spanking and is stroking her hands along the tender flesh of her submissive’s ass. She reaches between his thighs to cup his balls, and there’s no mistaking his enthusiasm at her touch.
It’s so much hotter to see in person than it is to read about. I shift in Jafar’s lap, rubbing my thighs together. His cock is a hard length against my ass, but he simply keeps me in the gentle cage of his arms. His thumb idly strokes the underside of my breast, and he plays the fingers of his other hand across the sensitive skin of my thigh. Close to where I ache for him. So close.
I wonder if he’ll touch me if I answer his question.
What’s going on in my head?
I wish I knew.
I wasn’t prepared for this. That truth becomes clearer every second I spend in this place. I’ve read about these things, fantasized about them, come more times than I can count to those very fantasies. But seeing in person? It feels like standing in the middle of a hurricane, each gust of wind tearing away a piece of the wall I spent my entire life building up around me.
The only thing steady is the man at my back, and if that’s not the very definition of irony, I’m not sure what is. He’s the reason I’m in this situation to begin with, adrift with no compass and no map, completely helpless in the face of the elements.
I take a deep breath and a leap of faith. “I like that he’s on display.”
“Watching or fantasizing about being in his place?” Jafar dips his hand farther beneath my dress and draws a single finger over my pussy.
“Both.” I part my legs. I can’t help it. I want him to touch me, and I don’t care that people might see.
Or maybe the fact that people might watch only adds to the lust filling me to the brim and beyond.
“Wicked girl.” He keeps up that gentle touch, torturing me with need. “You want that pretty little cunt on display. You know damn well that anyone who looks at you will want a taste.” He nips my earlobe, the sharp pain making me gasp and squirm against him. “Just for that, I should let them. Blindfold you and put you in a spreader bar so you can’t play the bashful virgin.” Another stroke of that evil finger, this time directly over my clit. “I’ll let them eat your pussy until you’re begging for mercy, and then I’ll fuck you right there in front of them to remind everyone—to remind you—of who you belong to.”
I shouldn’t want exactly what he’s describing.
Except, no. That’s not me talking. That’s the shame I’ve had drilled into my head since before I could speak. Good girls do this. Girl girls don’t do that.
Good girls don’t want their pussies licked by strangers.
Good girls certainly don’t want to be claimed in the
most intimate and public way possible by a man who’s supposed to be the enemy.
Fuck. That.
I relax against Jafar, inch by torturous inch. I let my legs drape on either side of his thighs, let him have full access to my body. The dress still hides anything too intimate from view, but it’s not about that. It’s about accepting what I want without “shouldn’t” involved. “Is that supposed to be a punishment or a reward?”
His deep laugh startles me. Have I ever actually heard him laugh before? Jafar drags his mouth over my bare shoulder. “That answers my question. Another night, baby girl, and we’ll see how you can earn that experience.”
I shiver. So many experiences I want, so many I don’t have enough information to know I want.
A group of people walk through the door, and a man peels away from them to head in our direction. Jafar murmurs in my ear, “Remember the rules.”
Eyes down. Silence.
As if I can find words with him pushing two fingers into me. I tense, waiting for him to withdraw his hand at the man takes the chair across from us. Jafar doesn’t. He just keeps fucking me slowly with his fingers.
My dress covers me, yes, but the slinky fabric hides nothing of the movement of Jafar’s hand. There is absolutely no question to what he’s doing to me. I don’t know what I expect, but the man glances down, grins, and slouches back in his chair as if he has conversations with couples in the midst of finger fucking every day. Who knows? Perhaps he does.
“Jafar.”
“Hook.”
I try to concentrate on what they’re saying, but Jafar pushes a third finger into me and then starts slowly circling my clit with his thumb. I let my head fall back against his shoulder and focus on keeping my moans from escaping. If he doesn’t stop, I’m going to come right here in front of this stranger, and that knowledge only makes my pleasure spike hotter.
I writhe, but Jafar shifts his free hand to band across my stomach, holding me still as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. If not for his hard cock against my ass, I wouldn’t have any indication that he’s affected by what he’s doing to me. His dry tone as he speaks with Hook certainly doesn’t give anything away.
He increases the pressure and that’s all I need. My orgasm bows my back and I grip his wrist as I ride his hand, unable to stop myself from grinding down against his fingers, soaking up every bit of pleasure he gives me.
Hook booms out a laugh. “Christ, Jafar, why are you wasting time talking with me when you have her willing to ride you like that?”
“Business first, Hook. Always.”
I open my eyes to find Hook watching me. Watching us. His expression is a little mean, but it reeks of jealousy rather than anything as simple as enmity. He pushes to his feet and his fitted pants don’t hide the fact that he enjoyed the show. He catches my look and grins. “You get bored with this asshole, you’re more than welcome to come play with me.”
Meg is more compelling than any single person has right to be. Hades scares me a little, because I’m sure his charm covers up unplumbed danger, but he’s just as compelling in his own way. Hook is attractive enough. He’s built lean in a way that makes me think of a sword—one wrong move and an enemy won’t even feel the cut until they’re bleeding out on the floor. Just business, and in that way he’s likely no different from Jafar.
The difference is that Jafar cares about me enough not to want to break me open for his pleasure. To Hook, I’m simply a curiosity and I have no doubt he’d be careless with me. Again, nothing personal, but he wouldn’t stick around long enough to ensure I wasn’t bleeding out on the floor from a wound, imagined or otherwise.
Jafar slips his hand free of my dress and presses his fingers to my lips. I instinctively suck them deep, one at a time, tasting myself on his touch. He chuckles when Hook groans and palms the front of his pants. “She’s taken, Hook. Find your own.”
“Too many choices to tie myself down with one.” He grins and then tips a mocking bow to us. “See you around, Jafar. I trust you won’t go back on your word with me the same way you did with Balthazar.”
There’s nothing in Jafar’s voice to indicate the way he tensed beneath me. “Don’t cross me and my word is as good as yours.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Another of those booming laughs and he ambles away.
Jafar kisses my temple. “What did you think of our friend Hook?”
Is that a trick question? How was I supposed to concentrate on anything at all with him touching me like that? I think back, trying to come up with something. “He’s afraid you’re going to attempt to expand your territory and he’s worried he can’t hold his.”
“What makes you say that?” As always, his tone gives nothing away. He could be asking about the weather for all the interest he shows.
I know better by now. “If he was confident, he wouldn’t feel the need to seek you out. He’d make preparations to hold his territory—he’d be a fool not to—but he’d keep all word of those preparations to himself so he’d have a chance at surprising you.”
“Well done.” He sets me on my feet and straightens my dress. “Are you ready for your reward?”
I’m still reeling from the balloon of warmth in my chest that his praise brought into existence. I barely manage to keep from pressing my hand to the spot between my breasts, sure that if I do I’ll feel the physical evidence of the change in temperature there. I lick my lips. “Uh … Yes. Yes, I’m ready for my reward.”
He doesn’t stand immediately. He just watches me with a strange look on his face, as if he can’t decide whether to be proud of me or to do something to put me in my place. I find myself holding my breath, waiting to see which side of the line he falls on.
This whole thing.
Everything. My life now. The room behind me, filled with people in various stages of pain and pleasure. The man sitting before me.
I thought I was prepared. I spent years reading everything I could get my hands on. The romance novels, yes, but also tomes of nonfiction on everything from current politics to gardening to law and contracts. I always planned to escape. The timing never felt right. No, that’s not correct. It had nothing to do with timing and everything to do with my courage failing me before I could take that first step. Tonight reinforces that lack of courage. I can fake it with the best of them, but the truth is that I’m terrified. If I walked into this place without Jafar’s hand on my back, I would have turn and fled. The sheer number of people is sensory overload enough.
It’s not until he stands and pulls me against his chest that I realize I’m shaking. Weak. So incredibly weak when all I want is to be strong. I close my eyes and let my forehead rest against his shoulder for a beat, two. On the third, I raise my head and try to push away.
“Not yet.” His hand is at the back of my neck again, his favorite spot. He easily holds me to him.
To be honest, I don’t fight that hard.
“I want this.” This. The sex. The life outside my father’s walls. The freedom I can’t quite seem to wrap my mind around. “Why am I struggling?”
“Learn to crawl before you start sprinting.”
He said something to that nature before, but I barely paid attention to it. I’m paying attention now. I fight against the despair threatening to steal my breath. I am strong. I am. It doesn’t matter that I don’t feel strong in this moment, that if he wasn’t here to hold me up, I might fall to my knees and never get up. I close my eyes, ashamed of the way they burn. “I don’t know how to do that.” I don’t know how to do any of it, and that knowledge stings just as much as the tears I refuse to allow to fall.
“I’ll show you.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward the back of the room.
I dig in my heels out of instinct, but as often as Jafar and I are at each other’s throats, he hasn’t done anything tonight except keep me on my feet. Yes, I know being here serves his ultimate purpose and that he’s showing me off like a prize for a conquering king, but it doesn’t
change the fact that he’s been startlingly careful with me.
I can trust him this far, can’t I?
I keep my gaze pinned to the middle of his back as he navigates the room. It’s full of significantly more people than when we first arrived. I get flashes of men and women of every age, shape, and color engaged in various sexual and painful displays. Some of them seem to just be here for the conversation, though impossible to miss the way most have someone kneeling at their side. Eyes downcast. Silent.
Jafar’s not the only one who extends those rules, apparently.
He stops in front of yet another door, though this one doesn’t have anyone guarding it. As soon as we step through, quiet descends and I breathe out a sigh of relief, some of the tension bleeding out of my body. I can do this. Whatever this is.
Doors line the hallway, and it takes me several steps before I realize what’s strange about the walls. “They’re mirrors?”
“No.” He pulls me toward a section of the hallway bathed in light and I finally understand. The wall isn’t a mirror.
It’s a window.
There are two women in the room. One is an icy blonde so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at her. The other is dark haired, but I can’t see her face because it’s buried between the blonde’s spread legs. “Oh.” I take in the cuffs holding the brunette’s arms captive behind her back. Her bare back is red and I realize why as the blonde brings a flogger down across her skin. The blonde lifts her gaze and meets mine, the sheer strength behind it driving me back a step.
“Oh.” I press my hand to my lips. “Do they …”
“Yes, they like being watched, and yes, they like knowing they’re being watched.” He doesn’t give me more opportunity to watch before pulling me several doors down. I catch sight of a discrete green light above the handle and then Jafar opens the door and tugs me into the room.
Lights flip on the second we step inside. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s a relatively normal looking bedroom. Jafar clears his throat, and I drag my attention to him. He points to a series of switches next to the door. “You control the transparency of the wall here.” His finger moves to the red button. “Panic button. It will bring Hades’s people running.” He points to a camera tucked into the corner of the room. “Once your membership passes the three-month mark, you have the option of turning off the camera while you play.”