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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CLAIRE

Walking through the black door on the back wall feels like yet another step away from the girl I was before and one step closer to who I have the opportunity to become.

The hallways are dark, but there’s an undercurrent of muted sounds and energy filling the space that leaves no question about what’s back here. My head is on a swivel as we pass different rooms without stopping, but I’m trusting Mark to lead me to places I’ll enjoy or at least appreciate.

We stop in front of a window that shows not just a couple, but three people in the room on the other side of the glass. Two men and a woman, all of them a tangle of limbs, touching each other with reckless abandon. They don’t seem to care that anyone else is watching as they pull clothes off of each other in a slow, sensual sort of way. It’s raw and intense and erotic.

After quite a few minutes of watching, Mark leads me to alarger room. It’s like the previous scene we watched times ten. There are multiple couples and groups all playing together in various states of undress. Some people linger along the edges of the room, simply watching.

Nobody is ashamed about owning their desire, though. Whether participating or watching, it’s clear that this is a safe place for everyone to express themselves sexually, and it warms my heart in an odd sort of way. I probably shouldn’t be feeling a sense of profundity at watching groups of people have sex, but it’s enlightening to see evidence of sexual liberation in so many forms.

Again observing but not participating, we move on down the hall, occasionally stopping at a window to watch people.

"What’s that room?" I ask as we pass what looks to be a larger room filled with different items that I can’t quite identify.

"That’s the dungeon," Mark says. "A lot of what happens in there is heavier pain play. If that’s something you’re interested in seeing, we can go watch."

I shake my head and shudder involuntarily at the idea of being hurt for sexual reasons. "No thanks." He said a little while ago that he’s not interested in any of that, which was more relieving than it should have been. "Though," I add, "you did say something earlier about showing me different ‘sensations."

He smirks. "I remember."

"And do you plan on actually showing me?" I challenge, giving him a sweet smile when he looks down at me and raises an eyebrow.

"I didn’t know you could get so feisty," he teases. "I think I like it. Come on, let’s find a room."

We pass a couple of occupied rooms until we find a small,simple one that doesn’t have a window for others to watch. Mark sets his drink—now empty aside from the ice cubes clinking around the bottom—on the bedside table as I take in the dimly lit room. There are a few implements on the walls that look intimidating, but I have a feeling Mark won’t be using those. At least, hopefully not.

My confidence that he won’t use any of those items is shattered when he makes his way over to the wall and grabs something, though his body obstructs my view of whatever he takes off the wall. My heart rate ratchets up as he turns back toward me with a mischievous smile.

"Turn around."

I do as he says, turning to face the bed. A pair of padded leather cuffs lands on the bed in front of me, along with a small, black candle and a blindfold. Interesting. The cuffs, I can handle. The other two items, I’m a little wary of.

Mark brushes my hair over my shoulder and slowly pulls down the zipper of my dress, his fingers trailing behind it on my bare skin. I shiver in response, goosebumps forming on my arms. Once unzipped, my dress falls to the floor, and I gingerly step out of the circle of fabric at my feet.

"So perfect," Mark breathes, taking in my exposed skin. "Lie down on the bed for me and let me look at you."

Following his directions, I climb onto the bed and lie back as his gaze consumes me.

"Good girl. I’m going to put these cuffs on you now."

I nod.

Mark loops the chain between the cuffs behind the bar of the headboard before securing each one to my wrists. I pull against them once he’s done, testing the strength. As expected, it holds.

"Are the cuffs too tight?" heasks.

"No, they’re fine."

Content with how I’m restrained and at his mercy, Mark traces my bare skin with his fingers, following the dips and curves of my collarbone, my breasts, my waist.

I close my eyes and surrender to his touch.

Moments later, it’s gone, and I open my eyes to see him reaching to the side of the bed and sipping an ice cube from his drink before setting the glass back down with a softclink. He sucks on the ice cube for a moment before pulling it from his mouth between his thumb and forefinger and looking down at me.

I realize what he’s about to do seconds before he does it.