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GEMINI

V eil’s eyebrows dip in the most adorable furrow, and I start to salivate at the thought of her slender body poured into the leotard that I’m still holding up for her.

“My audition?” she repeats after a few failed attempts at speaking.

“You were a gymnast, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but I haven’t—” she begins to protest.

I tilt my head, hovering over her. “I didn’t miss how you bent your body when you retrieved the dropped key.” I shoot her a wink. “When you thought I wasn’t looking.”

Flinging the leotard onto her lap, I stroll up onstage, stepping into the spotlight. I stretch my arms out on either side of me and circle around to face her.

“I can offer you freedom,” I say magnanimously, walking back to where she still sits, her brown eyes as wide as saucers. I drop my voice an octave lower for a better dramatic effect. “Under specific conditions.”

Her gaze turns hard, and I pause, thinking she’s about to cut me off. But she doesn’t speak, her lips thinning into a straight line, the pink leotard trapped in her curled fist.

I shrug and continue my little speech, holding up a finger. “All I ask is for one simple audition. And this could all be yours, pet.”

“You speak like joining the circus has been a lifelong dream of mine,” she snaps.

I drop the smile. “Fine, let’s go.”

I feign nonchalance as I try to take the leotard out of her hands, but she quickly fights back, pulling it into her chest.

“Wait.” Her voice wavers, and I know I have her.

I let out a small sigh, acting bored when I’m anything but.

“What are the conditions?” she says slowly.

And, oh, how I wish I could place my palm over her heart and feel how hard it’s beating.

Pinning her with my stare, I allow myself one small drag of my thumb over her bottom lip, and her eyes track my movements.

When I finally speak, my voice is close to a whisper. “What if I asked you to audition before telling you my conditions? Would you still agree?” I let the silence convey the significance of the moment before speaking again. “How much do you crave your freedom, Veil Vulturine?”

I drink up the parade of unspoken words flashing across her irises. It’s as if she’s trying to calculate all the ways this could possibly go wrong for her.

Eventually, she gives me the smallest of nods and stands up, a hard resolve now written clearly across her delectable face. “I’ll go change.”

Before Veil returns, I turn on the sound system and deliberate on what music I want to play for my doll’s little show.

As if this audition means a godsdamned thing.

I chuckle under my breath, knowing that whatever conditions I decide, it will just be another ruse for me to bind her fate to mine. One more way to ensnare her so implicitly that she will never find her way out.

I decide on a hauntingly melodic tempo—something to make her body twist and turn, slowly, sensually. As I settle back into the stands, Veil reappears, carefully stepping up onstage. She eyes me warily, and I flash her one of my most beatific smiles, indicating with a small wave of the hand for her to begin.

When the spotlight finally bathes her body with light, I drink her in as desperately as an alcoholic sipping on the finest of champagnes.

What a divine creature she is.

She’s pulled her brown hair into a tight bun atop her head, small flyaway curls framing her ears. The sleeves of the leotard hug her arms and torso like a second skin, the slope of her breasts just as mouth-watering as her peaked nipples.

Her tattooed legs are decadently exposed, the leotard cutting into the meat of her ass. I silently preen, knowing I’m the reason why she now has more of her for me to grab and squeeze. My gaze travels down her thighs, and I imagine my tongue laving down the length of them, all the way down to her dainty little toes—which I painted myself.

Vulnerability flashes across her face while I finish up my slow and unabashed perusal of her body. She tries to conceal it, but I catch it before it disappears. And something about it makes my mouth water.

“What do you want to see from me?” she asks, her voice rising just above the music.

I tilt my head at her question, a sick thrill bubbling up my chest. “Your flexibility.” I purposefully add a pregnant pause to my answer as she squirms under my calculated attention. “Your grace. Impress me.”

She breaks eye contact and looks away. I can feel her nerves, even from here; they strum in the air like a plucked cord. A silent melody, regaling me of tales of Veil Vulturine and my effect on her.

It’s addictive.

Closing her eyes, she seems to center herself, her shoulders straightening, body lengthening, her arms moving away from her body while placing her hands into a delicate repose.

Then she begins.

And nothing about her performing is amusing any longer.

I swallow hard. Mesmerized. Her dancing body is a masterpiece, a work of art in a constant flow of movements. My body responds immediately, and I’m engulfed with erotic pleasure so potent that I choke on it.

It’s as if, suddenly, I’m the one who has been ensnared.

My balls tighten with insatiable greed, and my quickly hardening cock pushes achingly against my jeans. My eyes never leave her. Glued to my seat, I track her intoxicating journey across the stage.

She curves her back, one foot pointed behind her while her arms reach far up into the air. She unfurls her body with such unimaginable grace that I can’t hold myself back any longer.

I spring up to my feet.

“Hold that pose,” I bark.

Veil’s body reacts to my voice but stays poised, her body stretched in the most ravenous curves, her extended arms making her small breasts jut outward, her peaked nipples pressing against the thin material.

I swallow down a groan, trying to keep my expression impassive, slowly circling around her, like a ruthless coach evaluating her technique.

She keeps her chin high, the only movement coming from her eyes, which are tracking me wherever I go.

I skate my palm over the twist of her torso, my hand hovering, but never touching.

My cock throbs. Begging. Pleading.

“Show me another pose.” I say it so slowly that I wonder if I’ll manage to successfully deliver my next sentence without my voice cracking over the sheer weight of my need to watch her like this. “Something I can use for the circus, pet.”

She falls back to a relaxed state, her piercing gaze shining bright with defiance. She stays silent while she hesitates until she lifts her right leg toward her back, her toes pointed. Keeping her eyes on me, she arches her back and brings her arms backward, taking hold of her foot and pulling it over her shoulder.

There’s a faint throb of victory at seeing her contort her body like this.

I knew she could do it.

I just couldn’t imagine how talented she truly was, her body bending in ways mere mortals only wished they could. My obsession for my thieving doll only tumbles further down into the pits of my black heart.

Humming in approval, I begin to circle her again. When my devouring gaze eventually lands on the small piece of gusset barely covering her pussy, I’m almost brought to my knees.

My mind scorches with visions of impaling her with my cock over and over until her cunt is so full of me that my cum drips down her thighs.

I gnash my teeth like a frenzied animal, completing a full circle around Veil while she strains to keep the pose, arms taut and muscles shaking.

I’ve been a good boy until now …

But it’s getting rather boring.

“Don’t break your pose, or you won’t get your freedom — understood?” My voice is tight with lust while my fingers pop my jeans open, quickly pulling the zipper down.

I grip my cock with such force that it hurts, but it’s followed by overwhelming relief when I drag my thumb over the tip, toying with my ringed piercing.

Veil’s cheeks were already rosy with the exertion, but a renewed flush crawls up her neck as her gaze dips to me fisting my cock. She looks back up, her expression a beautiful symphony of concentration and barely tempered desire. Her eyes smolder, and I wonder how far I can push her until she snaps.

She licks her lips and rasps, “Understood.”

Time slips, and we face each other for what feels like an eternity, the same hauntingly melodic tempo welcoming us into this new debauched season we’ve found ourselves in.

Keeping my eyes pinned to hers, I spit in my hand and bring it back to my cock, slicking it over my throbbing length. I’m a live wire, thrumming with the most intoxicating energy. That, paired with the perverse thrill of parading Dizzy’s corpse down the street of Pravitia earlier today, has me ready to explode. The desire to channel this erratic energy into Veil has become unbearable.

My attention falls on the tremor in her arms just before her grip on her foot slips.

“Hold it,” I bark.

She straightens back into position, a small bead of sweat sliding over her temple and down her cheek. With my cock still in hand, I stroll to face her back, and I’m met with the most ravishing of visions.

The thin patch of fabric stretched over her cunt has grown damp. My taunting chuckle is anything but amused, and the urge building behind my chest is akin to bloodthirst.

She’s wet.

She’s fucking wet.

“What do we have here?” I muse innocently.

Bending down, I lean closer and softly blow right between her legs. She jolts at the sensation, and my laugh turns that more provoking.

“Hold the pose a little while longer, pet,” I groan darkly, trailing a finger down the damp fabric and pushing it into her pussy so it molds to her even tighter. “I promise you, the reward will be worth it.”