Page 24

S ights and sounds of depravity assault my senses as I peer through the curtain separating backstage from the main chapel. A heavy musk of sweat and arousal hangs thick, mingling with heady incense billowing from ornate burners. My gaze is drawn to the centre of the dimly-lit chamber where a masked figure kneels on the intricately-tiled floor.

Bound in complex ropes, the woman’s naked form is contorted into an obscene display of shibari. Her chest heaves with shallow breaths, supple breasts swaying. A sheen of sweat coats her exposed flesh. As I watch, a robed man stalks into view, cloak sweeping the floor.

Even from this distance, I can discern the unmistakable bulge beneath the robe—a carnal promise. The woman’s head lolls forward obediently as he palms her skull, guiding plush lips to engulf his rigid length. No sooner has her jaw stretched wide than the man begins thrusting brutally.

A mixture of revulsion and forbidden arousal coils in my belly as I witness the grotesque yet erotic scene. Wet, obscene noises of his cock pistoning into her mouth echo like a depraved symphony. Her throat works convulsively with each punishing thrust, yet she merely sits there and takes it. A broken toy, blindfolded and used for his gratification.

My skin prickles, fine hairs along my nape standing on end. There’s something simultaneously repellent yet intriguing about such profane acts laid bare. The submission and dominance on display. Part of me recoils, repulsed by the debasement. Yet a primal part thrums with perverse curiosity.

The man’s hips stutter, climax reaching its crescendo. With a groan tearing from his throat, he buries himself fully. I see the outline of his cock bulging her throat, throbbing in time to his release down her gullet. He withdraws, not sparing a glance for the pitiful creature left crumpled and drooling at his feet.

Without ceremony, he tucks himself away back into the robe and strides off. As if the proceedings were a perfunctory task rather than the ultimate act of domination and submission.

Two robed attendants swiftly emerge to collect the woman’s trembling form. No tenderness as they work at the knots binding her limbs. Once freed, they haul her up and half-drag her out. Throughout it all, not a word is uttered. Their actions brisk, efficient, detached—suggesting these sadistic displays are commonplace.

As I grapple to process what I’ve seen, the heavy weight of a presence materialises at my shoulder. My head whips around to find Arius there, piercing depths drinking in my reaction with calculation. No amusement or heat in that cool gaze, only a predatory intensity sending a trill of unease down my spine.

When he speaks, each word is laced with dark promise—or unveiled threat, I’m not sure which. “Do not fuck this up for me.” A heartbeat. Two. That’s all before bravado surges back to my veins, scorching away trepidation in a simmer of defiance.

Eyes narrowing, I return his stare with a palpable challenge, unable to bite back the sneer. “Oh, I doubt you’re the one who needs to worry about anything going tits up. You’re not the one being used like a fuck puppet, are you?”

Arius seems unfazed. In fact, his gaze almost softens, if one could use such a descriptor for his remorseless depths. That low rumble slicing the silence is devoid of comfort as he shifts with nonchalance.

“You’re not a whore, .” Something almost musing in his tone, as if some joke lies hidden between the syllables. Only the tightening of his jaw betrays a hint of unrest beneath that stoic facade. “You’re to be my wife… The future matriarch of our Bloodline.”

Several heartbeats stretch out as I stare at him, those words hanging like a physical presence. Wait, does he actually mean…? He can’t be fucking serious. The knee-jerk reaction bubbles up before I can smother the hysterical laughter ringing in my ears. Because honestly, what the actual fuck?

The silence lingers. Arius’ words echo in my mind. Wife? Matriarch? I can scarcely process the implication before an unexpected bark shatters the stillness.

“Next couple, approach the stage!”

The gruff summons jolts me. My head whips towards the shadowed figure before the dais, features obscured by dim lighting. Before I can draw a breath, Arius’ hand clamps on my arm with bruising force. I instinctively jerk away, a scowl twisting my lips as I prepare to snarl at him.

Only the look simmering in those depths halts the venomous tirade. An intensity flickers behind his mask—an unspoken plea. Almost as if he’s wordlessly begging for my cooperation, if only for a fleeting moment.

Something inside me unclenches at the raw vulnerability burning through his mask. My jaw works soundlessly as I wrestle with this strange dynamic. Why do I suddenly feel… sorry for this arrogant prick?

Heaving a sigh, I force the fight to bleed from my shoulders. If this is what it takes to avoid scrutiny, so be it. I’ll play along for now. Arius registers the wordless concession, his grip gentling as he guides me forward.

We stride onto the stage, spotlights instantly blinding me. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust, lips curling in distaste. Christ, there’s a whole audience. From what I can make out through the haze, masked individuals lounge rows back while an older gentleman and regal woman occupy the front.

A shudder wracks me realising they’re here to watch… whatever perverse rituals are meant to unfold. My pulse thunders with each strangled inhale, their collective scrutiny an oppressive shroud attempting to smother me.

Unprepared doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of how ill-equipped I am for this. Arius hasn’t filled me in on a single detail. Jace and Hayes were equally tight-lipped, claiming the Order forbids Initiates from discussing the Trials. Rhys barely acknowledges my existence. And Sid… I haven’t laid eyes on her in over a week.

The only warning I receive is Arius leaning in until his lips ghost my ear, each syllable carrying the weight of command. “On your knees, drahu?ka.”

My chest constricts as those words land like blows. On my knees? Here, in front of all these people? Bile burns my throat as I grapple with this unthinkable demand. Surely he can’t be serious…

An endless heartbeat ticks by until Arius reaches the end of his tether. With lightning quickness, his palm connects with my cheek in a resounding crack. The vicious slap whips my head to the side, my world spinning as stars burst across my vision.

I don’t register hitting the floor until the sting along my knees slices through the haze of shock. A dull throb radiates from my face, rage and humiliation churning like a tempest in my veins. Before the first gasp can wheeze past my lips, Arius wrenches me upright by the hair into a proper kneel.

The dizzying motion jostles me until I’m panting, one palm braced against the hardwood for balance as I gingerly prod the blooming welt on my jaw. It stings like a bitch, the ache throbbing with my frantic pulse, yet not enough to draw more than a harsh bark of frustrated laughter.

Of course the sadistic fuck would relish any opportunity to reassert his dominance. To remind me of my place in this twisted power dynamic. It’s infuriating… yet somehow, a dark tendril of heat still coils low in my abdomen at his brute strength.

My knees grind the rough hardwood, abrading my flesh through thin leggings. Breath escapes in shallow pants, senses straining as I kneel in the blinding glare. The heat of eyes boring into me from the hushed audience prickles along my skin like a physical caress, stoking the embers of humiliation kindling in my core.

Without warning, his presence presses behind me. The faint whisper of fabric is my only warning before Arius drapes himself over me, his scorching heat radiating against my back. I stiffen, every muscle coiled as his musk engulfs me.

Something smooth brushes against the delicate skin below my hairline, eliciting a flinch. My pulse kicks up as I realise—it’s a blindfold. Of course the bastard wouldn’t let me escape this torment with all of my senses intact.

“Stay still,” Arius rumbles against my ear, his gravelly timbre causing goosebumps to prickle across my skin. Swallowing past the knot of trepidation in my throat, I force myself rigid as that silken fabric is secured behind my crown.

Darkness closes in, stealing my sight and leaving my senses disoriented. I’m acutely aware of my thunderous heartbeat, my ragged breaths unnaturally loud against the oppressive stillness blanketing the auditorium. Time loses meaning as seconds stretch into eternity, stranding me in the void’s embrace.

The distant scrape of a chair jolts me. My body tenses as my head swivels blindly towards the sound. What the hell—?

I strain to pinpoint Arius’ location, but there’s nothing. No hint of his scorching heat or intoxicating cologne through the shroud of blackness. As if he’s vanished.

Beats tick by in unsettling silence, the weight of unblinking stares a force threatening to crush me. Just as the urge to squirm grows overwhelming, Arius’ voice slices through the stillness.

“Crawl to me,” he commands from some distance, the click of his tongue adding a mocking undercurrent.

Wait… is he fucking serious?

Muscles across my shoulders lock while humiliated heat surges along my skin. Crawl to him? Here, on display like some carnival attraction while gods know how many eyes drink in the depravity? Fuck that. No way am I about to debase myself like—

My rebellion is snuffed out before igniting. Arius’ baritone cleaves the air once more, each syllable dripping sadistic promise. “You will crawl as instructed. Failure to comply results in unpleasant consequences.”

A shudder wracks my spine at his words, my stomach twisting into an anxious knot while trepidation ices my veins. After the hell he’s already subjected me to, I have no doubt he’ll make good on that sinister pledge. Whatever perverted torture awaits if I refuse will make that vicious slap pale in comparison.

With resolve crumbling, my teeth grit against impotent wrath. It doesn’t seem I have a choice if I want to escape with a modicum of dignity intact. Well, dignity likely went out the window ten minutes ago, but there’s no use dwelling on that now.

Bracing my palms against the floor, I inhale shakily before shifting my weight forward onto my hands. Shoulders hunched beneath a silent prayer, I tentatively crawl forward a single halting step. Then another. And another, gradually building a steady momentum in a blind trajectory towards Arius’ location.

The brand on my thigh burns from the strain of slithering across hardwood, my knees smarting from incessant friction. Each rasping breath sounds deafening against the silence as I inch through the blackness, heart thudding against my ribcage. There’s no way to gauge how pitiful I must look, the reality of being put on display sinking its claws deeper with every heartbeat.

Fuck me, though. Why does this feel so… arousing?

The shameful realisation ignites like a flash fire, carnal heat blazing through my veins. I must be the sickest cunt if the humiliation of debasing myself on command for Arius’ gratification is already dampening the lace between my thighs. My clit throbs with each advance as if seeking friction, every shallow breath more strained against the weight of mounting arousal.

I should be repulsed by my body’s visceral betrayal. By the fact my nerve endings revel in this twisted game unfolding before voracious voyeurs. And yet… there’s an undeniable allure to surrendering control, allowing myself to let go and simply obey without dissent. Some deep part of me craves the debasement for reasons I can’t fathom.

“Move thirty degrees left,” Arius commands, snapping me back to reality.

Wait, his left or my left?

Turning slightly to reorient towards his resonating timbre, I pause to ensure my direction is correct before resuming the blind trek. With each shuffle, the flare of arousal licking my core builds. Bloody hell, the self-inflicted mortification of obeying without question is already dangerously potent. At this rate, I’ll likely orgasm before reaching my destination like some mindless slag—

“Seventy-five degrees right,” Arius barks.

Teeth clenched against a whimper, I instantly pivot and comply. The slide of my knees feels almost obscenely intimate through this veil skewing my senses. Time loses meaning as I blindly slither, smothering embers steadily engulfing me in an inferno of forbidden cravings.

Trying to force perspective through the suffocating arousal, my jaw clenches as I struggle to regain bearings. All logic has abandoned me. Leaving nothing but a mindless slave to base impulses that revel in Arius’ arbitrary commands. Is this what he wants…? For me to feel utterly powerless, forced to rely solely on his directives surrounded by depraved onlookers?

Breath comes in ragged pants, each inhale scorching as I claw through the swirling confusion. No. This won’t do. I can’t roll over like some simpering doormat and allow Arius to mould me however he pleases. There has to be a line, a boundary carved in bedrock that I refuse to let this sadist steamroll.

With a surge of defiance, my jaw clenches as I prepare to call a halt to these degrading proceedings. Enough of letting him dictate how far—

“Good girl.”

Those softly murmured words cut through my spiralling turmoil with precision, a fresh shudder rippling from my core as their seductive implication sinks home. Every inch of my flesh feels electrified, the carnal approval washing over me in an intoxicating surge. For several heartbeats, I can barely breathe around the scalding intensity blazing through my veins.

Then the mortifying reality of how thoroughly Arius has stripped away my defiance hits. In just a few syllables, he’s reduced me from a strong-willed, independent woman into a docile plaything hungering for his praise. It’s revolting…

And yet, the primal urge to please him continues simmering beneath the surface, refusing to be extinguished no matter how I try to smother the flames. Fuck, I’m spiralling into dangerous territory—teetering on the precipice of gleefully allowing Arius to ensnare me deeper within his depravity’s clutches.