Page 5

Scarlett

Penelope and I haven’t talked much about what happened last week at Eden, and I’m eternally grateful for the silence of it all.

I gave her a brief rundown; that it didn’t totally pan out the way I was expecting, but I want to keep trying. I’m sure it was hard for her to see me in the state I was in after that guy left me in the White Room, but she’s kept a slack enough leash to allow me the space I need to move past it.

The truth is, even though I was mad at the time, I can’t deny the excitement I feel when I relive the memory of what happened. I may have ended the night with another man, but all I can think about is him .

As the days have passed and I’ve spent more time processing everything from that night, I don’t think it was a rejection at all. The whole purpose of the club is to explore your sexual fantasies.

While orgasm denial may not have been on my bingo card for the year, I still learned a lot about myself from the whole experience.

Apparently, I’m really into being tied up and ordered around.

I’m sure there’s some psychological reason why someone like me—who is usually cold and calculated in her decision making—would prefer to have an alter-ego in bed, but I don’t pay much mind to the thought .

I just know I want more.

Penelope and I made a quick stop at the post office in order to return our masks from Eden, but all I can think about is when I’ll receive a new one.

We’re having dinner at Andy’s Diner, talking through plans for our next visit. “Why don’t you try being a Sapphire with me?” she suggests, shoving a french fry into her mouth.

I considered returning as a Pearl, but I think I’m now looking more in the direction of Emerald or Amethyst. Obviously I liked getting tied up, but I know from the porn I watch that hardcore BDSM can get a little too extreme—maybe too much for me.

“I was thinking about going for Amethyst. Do you think I’d do alright with that?” I ask, hoping she’ll give me an honest answer rather than whatever she assumes I want to hear.

I’m not totally confident about impact play, but I think getting spanked in the Purple Room might be less of a plunge into depravity than getting choked out in the Blue Room.

I try to recall my favorite parts from the other night with that man, but I just keep rolling around the idea of bondage. There was something so hot about having my mouth stuffed and my hands tied.

The blindfold felt a bit unfair, but who am I to say?

Penelope mimics my thoughts, as usual. “I don’t know, babe. It seems like you might be more into the helpless thing than punishment. You could always ask the dom to slap you around a bit, if you’re comfortable with that. I don’t have much experience in there myself, so I can’t really say.”

I pull up the application on my phone browser, sorting through the list of kinks again as I contemplate my choices. It’s only the Friday after our first visit, but I want to make sure I’m set for next weekend.

Spending tomorrow night inside will give me some extra time to reflect on what I want and how I’m going to handle things, should I meet that man again .

I’m much less nervous than I was the first time I did this, but even knowing I fit somewhere in this world, finding the right place to slot into is still intimidating.

I don’t know how many attempts it’ll take for me to find where I’m supposed to be, or exactly what I want.

It’s hard living with a general distrust for people, but I have to remember everyone else is held accountable to the same rules and guidelines—they wouldn’t be allowed in if they didn’t uphold them.

He may have edged me without discussing it, but the man from the other night respected me in every other sense. He waited for me to relax before testing my limits when I gagged on his fingers, and he was adamant about checking for my safe word.

“Alright,” I concede. “What’s the worst that could happen? Is it horrible that I’m hoping to see one of those guys from the other night? They did ask for me to come back.”

Penelope giggles, tossing a fry at me across the table. “Scarlett, please. If anything, it’s just a testament to how fucking hot you are. I haven’t had anyone at the club promise me seconds. I get a ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ and that’s all I can hope for. You’re a goddamn fox, so take these boys for all they’re worth.”

The club isn’t any less exuberant than it was two weeks ago.

People flood the dance floor, grinding senselessly to “Shimmy” by MISSIO and Blackillac when we enter. Penelope and I pre-gamed before riding over in an Uber, so I’m already tipsy and raring to go when we head to the bar and order our signature drinks .

Apparently, the personal space she graced me with last week has run its course, because she’s back in protection mode. Despite assuring her multiple times that I can handle myself, she won’t let go of the mama-bear act and keeps criticizing every prospect I find.

It isn’t until we’re three drinks deeper that she finally turns her attention away to seek out her own partner. Now, she won’t quit asking me to scout out Sapphire men for her to go ravish—as if she’d be the one doing the ravishing at all.

After a few minutes of scanning the crowd, I spot my mystery guy from the White Room. He’s with some blonde girl, swaying to the music in perfect unison as his hands travel the length of her waist.

That was me, two weeks ago.

I know what it’s like to have those hands on me, making me feel things I didn’t know I could—or even knew I liked at the time. I won’t say I’m jealous, because that would be stupid. Like, really stupid, because I don’t even know the guy, and he doesn’t owe me a second round.

But also, that girl can go fuck herself.

“I’m gonna go outside and get some air!” I don’t even wait for Penelope’s response before hopping off the bar stool and making my way to the balcony.

The view is gorgeous from out here; we’re so high up you can see the city for miles. Dark wood flooring expands a few feet out and wraps around three-quarters of the building. It’s all enclosed with beautiful glass half-walls, adorned in etched filigree that remind me of the gold accents on the door to the Rainbow Room.

I’m leaning against the railing, taking in the sights below me, when I hear the flick of a lighter and someone inhaling. I don’t want to be nosey and turn around, but when footsteps sound behind me, they put me on guard. My pulse quickens, and my hands tighten around the railing to keep myself from wavering.

The presence radiating at my backside is as dark and foreboding as the familiar voice that speaks. “What, you don’t have any interest in joining me tonight? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to avoid me, darling. I know you were watching me,” he whispers directly into my ear.

His low, sexy tone makes me shiver, but I’m not giving in to his mind games. If he wants to play, I’ll play back.

I spin towards him and look up into his eyes with my head cocked, ready to tease with a smirk on my face. “Join you, why? So I could rob that poor girl of what I’m sure would be a lovely evening of torture she didn’t agree to? No thank you, I’ll take my chances elsewhere.” I rip the cigarette from his hand and pull it to my lips. Leaning back against the glass wall, I take a long drag before letting out the smoke in a French-inhale. “I’m not here for games. You either want to fuck me, or you don’t.”

The look on his face is a mixture of something I can’t quite make out. Maybe he’s surprised or impressed, but either way, it seems like he wasn’t expecting me to call him out on his bullshit.

After a moment, he straightens to compose himself, eagerly watching my lips through the smoke before he responds. “Of course I do. But you’re still not wearing a red mask.”

I tilt my head to the opposite shoulder as I take in his attire. “Neither are you,” I taunt. He’s wearing a green mask—the same as me.

I’m genuinely confused. Somehow, he’s matched me both times we’ve met, but he insisted I’d need to follow him to the Red Room if I wanted more.

His hands shoot out to grab the railing on either side of my body, effectively caging me in. He bends down to whisper against my lips, “I can’t do the things I want to do to you if we’re anywhere else.”

I don’t know how to respond. I want him, but I’m not willing to go to the Red Room or put on any mask I’m not ready for.

“I guess that’s too bad.” I take another drag of the cigarette and blow it directly into his face before turning around—ceremoniously claiming it as my own.

“Fine. Then come back with me tonight. ”

Interesting . But I don’t take the bait. “No.”

“Why not? I’ll play your game, you win.” He’s trying to intimidate me—to make me bend to his command again. The honeyed words dripping from his lips don’t make the truth any less obvious.

Nobody gives in that quickly, especially not when he’s been so stubborn about making me put on a red mask.

“Why would I? So you can toy with me again, get me close to coming, just to leave? No, thank you.” I can’t help but instigate, not when he’s playing into my own game. “I’ve already got someone to clean up after the mess you made, I’d rather skip the middleman.”

My issue is that these sweet nothings aren’t doing it for me, and they just make me want to fuck with him more—to bring back the primal instinct he had last time. Getting me into bed doesn’t require all the chauvinistic crap he’s spewing out.

He only needs to take a different approach.

His fingers reach around to pinch my chin, turning me to meet his eyes over my shoulder. “What if I promise not to, hm?”

Like I said, honeyed words.

“Hmm, how about…no.” I rip my jaw from his grip to take another drag of the cigarette. “I don’t believe you.”

I’m not buying it. The issue isn’t that he’ll most likely deny me another orgasm if I agree to go back with him. Truthfully, I didn’t mind it so much since I was able to get that other Pearl man to finish me off.

My problem is this fake bullshit.

I’ve seen how he is in the bedroom. I know what it looks like when he takes what he wants, and it’s not this. I want him to take it.

I’m half-expecting more whispers and pleas. Instead, he fists my hair and slowly pulls my head back against his shoulder. “How about…” His soothing voice in my ear leaves goosebumps across my skin, but then he bites my earlobe so hard I let out a yelp. “You’re coming back with me, whether you like it or not.”

Yep. That’ll just about do it.

“Okay, okay…yes.” At the end of the day, I’m a bitch in heat for this guy, and I’m too horny to feel ashamed. He could do anything he wants to me and I’d say, ‘Thank you, sir.’

Stealing the cigarette back, he takes a final drag before tossing it off the balcony. He leads me hurriedly down the same hall we entered before, his hand never leaving the small of my back as we approach the set of doors across from the Pearl rooms.

This one is a little different than the last.

While the bed is still the main focus, there are also some wooden contraptions off to the side—one of which looks like a giant ‘X’ with black-leather cuffs at each arm. Along the wall at the foot of the bed, a large cabinet sits with various toys, paddles, and whips lining the shelves.

The man circles me while I observe our surroundings, his eyes filled with the promise of all the things he wants to do. “Are you going to be good and take off your clothes, or am I going to have to make you?” he purrs, stepping between me and the cabinet.

After the display of phony begging on the balcony, I’m not inclined to give him anything unless he forces it out of me. I don’t usually play nice, especially not after getting a workaround.

A defiant grin pulls at the corners of my mouth, and I can see the exact moment it clicks for him.

I’m not going to go the easy way.

“So that’s how it is, huh? You’re a fucking brat.” His hand comes up and wraps around my throat—not tight enough to choke me, but enough to prove he’s in control. “Can’t say I mind it. I’ve been waiting to break you in…break you down. I’ve even dreamt about it, you know. How to make you mine.”

He dreamed about me ?

I’m not sure if this is more flattery meant to sweeten me up, but it doesn’t seem to be. His thumb strokes my pulse point with a gentle reverence, as if he’s savoring the moment.

Just by how he’s acting, I can tell he wasn’t happy about how things ended during our last session. He would have done more—he wanted to—and he’s been regretting it ever since.

My throat bobs against the palm of his hand when I swallow, taking a gulp of air before asking, “Even though we’re not in the Red Room? You haven’t even had me in a normal room. How could you possibly know that you want me—”

“Did I ask for your opinion? Good little girls keep their mouths shut.” He tightens the grip around my neck, and in an instinctual panic, I grab his wrist with both my hands. “You’ll see one day, but the Red Room is my normal room. It’s where I do my best work.”

My nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t ease up. “I’m not go-ing there, so get it th-rough your big f-ucking head,” I struggle to get the words out—on account of the fact he’s nearly strangling me—but I fully intend to act the brat he’s accusing me of being.

The impact of his fingertips meeting my cheek leaves a throbbing sting. My lips part on a gasp, but he doesn’t give me a moment to recover before pulling me in closer. He pants against my open mouth until we’re forced to share the same cloud of hot air.

“Clothes off, now . Get on the bed,” he hisses through bared teeth. “I’ll show you what a big head looks like.”

He shoves me backwards, the pressure on my esophagus causing me to gag and sputter as I stumble across the room. I collapse to my knees, but just when I rear up to charge at him, he points a finger at me in warning.

I shouldn’t be so turned on, but I’ve never been slapped before and it’s doing something to me—something terribly mind-altering.

Choosing to play obediently for now, I carefully strip off my knee-high boots and red dress, then place them neatly on the nightstand .

The longer he spends watching me, the more impatient he becomes. “ All of your clothing. Let’s go.”

I shoot him a nasty glance over my shoulder before removing my bra and panties. I know he’s seen me naked before, but it’s not easy to ignore the fact he’s standing there fully clothed while I’m forced on display.

The man walks up to me, completely unbothered when I cross my arms over my chest to cover up. “Bed…now. On your knees with your arms behind your back.”

I do as instructed, despite the curiosity tingling up my spine when I hear him rummaging through the cabinet. “See? You do know how to behave. Wouldn’t you rather be rewarded than punished?” he asks sardonically.

The shuffling sounds behind me cease, and it’s made clear he wasn’t asking rhetorically; he actually wants me to answer. What a pretentious piece of shit.

I scoff instead. “Is that what this is, or just more teas—”

SMACK .

The whack to my ass knocks me forward, but supporting myself with my hands only puts me in prime position for more abuse when I bite back, “You motherfuck—”

SMACK .

Dragging me by the hair into a kneeling position again, he holds me still and starts wrapping something around my upper arms. “Shut your mouth, before I give you something to really cry about, Sca—” he pauses to catch his breath, already winded from wrestling my arms together. “Scream all you want; it won’t matter in a second.”

Two cuffs are strapped around my biceps, and a cold piece of leather hangs down my back from between them. It’s got my shoulders pulled so tightly I can’t move an inch.

With my arms now locked in place, he forces me to bend my elbows and lay my forearms parallel on top of each other. Another leather contraption binds them together, and a buckle keeps them trapped. The only thing I still have control over is my hands.

I hear him moving again behind my back, and though I’m anxious for what he has in store, my heart is racing dangerously fast. In an attempt to get clearance and keep my panic at bay, I ask, “Why? What are you—”

Before I can finish, he hooks two metal pieces into the inside of my cheeks. My gut drops when I realize what the device is, but struggling is futile. He wastes no time wrangling me down to secure the buckle at the back of my head, stretching at the corners of my mouth until it hangs wide open.

“That would be why,” he points out, circling the bed to step in front of me.

I put up a real fight and he’s sweating now, looking entirely flustered as he runs his fingers through his hair. The image of him just riles me up more.

He’s beautiful, and I can’t help but think how lucky I am to have him like this when it might have been that blonde girl in my place tonight.

“Now, you said something about a big head, right? I think it’s time you’re properly introduced,” he mocks, staring into my eyes with pure, fiery lust. “Is your safe word still Oklahoma? I know how funny you think it would sound with a dick crammed down your throat, so if you’re going to say it, at least let me get it in there first.”

As I watch him and listen to the filthy words spewing out of his mouth, my mind wanders in loops. This man has become a revelation, the salvation Eden promised, and my sexual guide—all wrapped into one kinky package.

This is what I’ve been looking for. This is where I belong.

SMACK.

I spit a muffled shriek out of the open-mouth gag. A dribble of saliva comes with it as I hang my head down, trying to shake off the slap to my bruising cheek. The man cups the underside of my chin and forces me to look up at him once more. “Answer me.”

I nod my head slowly in defeat as he bends at the knee, meeting me at eye level. He releases my chin from his grip, moving his hand to brush light, tender touches across my stinging cheek. It’s hard to not lean into it when he shushes me so sweetly.

But it’s a trap, and I fall for it instantly.

Before I know it, his fingers creep through my open lips, slide along my tongue, and tease the back of my throat like he did in the White Room. Naturally, I start to panic, but he winds his other hand into my hair to keep me still.

His soothing voice coaxes me open for him. “Shh, you’re a good girl. I know you can take it like last time.” He fucks his fingers into my mouth, talking me through it until I no longer choke when he’s at full depth. “I’m just getting you ready for me.”

The fingers give up their abuse on my uvula, only to readjust and hook around my bottom teeth while his thumb sits under my chin. He pulls me by the jaw until I reposition myself, sitting at the edge of the bed with my feet dangling at the floor.

I should probably get a rag doll tattooed on me to commemorate him, because fuck …I love it when he treats me like one.

Now that I’ve been arranged to his liking, he gets in close and stands directly between my open thighs. I watch in awe as he unbuttons his jeans slowly, and it’s a sight to behold—the way a man can make mundane actions look so sexy.

It’s enchanting to watch the way his muscles flex and bulge with every movement. The pop in his vein when he pinches the button. The strain of his chest muscles when he pulls down the zipper. The way his hand looks wrapped around the thick beast he just released from his pants.

He must see the nervousness in my eyes, because he shushes me again, cradling the back of my head with his free hand. “Sorry, darling. Couldn’t trust you not to bite me with that attitude of yours. I’d say open up, but I guess you don’t really have a choice, do you?”

That’s the last thing he says to me before forcing the head of his cock through the gag. I quickly realize nothing short of this level of depravity will ever be enough for me .

This is the point of no return.