The anticipation of the pleasant sparks dancing on my skin is arousing. I nod, and feel the shift in my mind occur as the scene begins.
Gray turns me around, facing the brocade drapes that span the wall. They hang from a brass rod with polished finials, and pool gracefully on the wood floor. From the corner of my eye, I see him reach for something, and the curtain opens slowly to reveal a glass wall and a room filled with people—men—chatting in small groups. They’re seated in chairs set on risers, like at the theatre, so everyone can see the stage. There must be fifty or sixty men—maybe more.
My breathing is labored, and I feel lightheaded and weak as panic threatens. For the first time since I’ve been with Gray, I consider using my safe word.
Before I decide, Gray twirls me around to face him, hooking a thumb under my chin so I’m forced to look into his eyes. My brain is still trying to make sense of the room behind me, but it’s slogging, struggling more than it should—maybe it doesn’t want to know what he has planned. Maybe it’s too much to bear.
“You have an audience tonight,” he says calmly. “Dozens and dozens of eyes on your luscious body. Probing and judging, but mostly enjoying you, helplessly bound, a servant to my cock.”
I’m beginning to sweat, and I’m sure he notices, but there are no reassurances to make me feel better.
“How long do you think it’ll take before they have their dicks in hand? Five minutes? Ten? Or will they wait until you’re writhing shamelessly, begging for release?”
He pulls the zipper on my dress lower and lower, until it falls open. I didn’t wear anything underneath—for him. But now—
Gray slides his fingers into my hair and kisses me. No, it’s not a kiss. It’s the demanding mark of ownership, and the unrepentant claim leaves me reeling. As I spiral, his words run through my mind on a continuous reel, not just those from tonight but from the last two weeks. You have an audience tonight. Dozens and dozens of eyes on your luscious body. Probing and judging… There’s surveillance everywhere in the palace. You’ve never done anything like this before. You’ll be on display, like an animal at the zoo. It can be unnerving, even for an experienced operative. I can’t protect you from that.
This is a test. A test to determine if I’m mission ready. If I can weather the storm or if I’ll fold when the first gust blows through. You can do this, Delilah. You can do this. I draw a breath and release it, and do it again. I will outrun my fear—my shame of being watched.
“Close your eyes,” Gray instructs, securing the blindfold. The darkness comes as a relief. But it’s a short-lived reprieve.
“These are noise-canceling headphones,” he explains matter-of-factly, as he fits them on my head. There’s not a smidgeon of judgment or sneer in his voice. “The room next door is mic’d.” He runs his tongue along my shoulder, biting when he reaches the tendon where it meets my neck. I tremble as he nips at my skin. “The sound will vary. I’ll set it to capture the ruckus of the entire room, and at other times I’ll turn on the individual areas, so you can hear the grunts of pleasure coming from your adoring audience. They’re going to love watching you, Blue Eyes.”
I push the bile down. This isn’t going to beat me. I won’t let it.
Gray’s voice disappears, and I hear murmurs and snickering. Someone laughs. Another comments on my ass, and yet another on my tits. I’m not human to them.
The men are behind a wall, but it feels as though they’re here in this room, close enough to reach me—to touch me with their filthy hands. Although I know I’m physically safe, there is something terrifying about this—something bone-chilling.
He won’t let them hurt you. I repeat this over and over, but the men’s voices are deafening, drowning out any attempt to soothe myself. Being blindfolded only makes the catcalls seem louder, and more dangerous.
Gray’s voice cuts in as I feel something cool on my lips. “Open your mouth. They want to see you warm the plug, before I slide it in your ass. Good girl,” he murmurs, when I part my lips for him. The plug will feel more comfortable going in if it’s been warmed first. Normally it’s arousing to prepare, but today, there’s nothing but humiliation. The taunts and raucous laughter take away all the pleasure.
Gray’s mouth is on my nipple, coaxing it to a pointed peak, while his fingers tweak the other. “Ahhh.” He’s readying me for the clamps. I know it, but still, I gasp at the first pinch, and brace myself for the second bite.
He brushes some loose hair off my face. “You’re beautiful in purple. The color suits you. As do the jewels.” His voice is a welcome reprieve. When he speaks, the din from the other room falls silent, and it’s just us. “I need you to fold your body forward. Let it rest on the platform. I’ll help you.”
Unable to see, I move carefully, as he guides me to where he wants me.
“Just relax.”
I feel the lube collect in the hollow of my back, and Gray’s fingers work it between my cheeks and into the pleated hole. His touch feels good, but there’s a part of me that’s ashamed I feel pleasure in the middle of the spectacle.
“What a whore. She loves it,” a nasty voice jeers, and then others join the taunting. There’s more laughter as Gray takes the plug from my mouth and slides it into my most private place. I try to tune the noise out, but it’s a struggle.
“Let’s get you on the lounge,” he says gently, helping me stand. “There are three steps to the top.” He wraps his arm around my waist so that I don’t fall.
I count the steps in my head, trying to block out the noise from the other room, and reminding myself over and over that this is a test.
But it’s impossible to silence the ugly chatter from the next room or the one happening inside my head. I’m fully on display, like a sex slave being sold at auction. That’s how he wants you to feel.
Gray secures my wrists and attaches the rope to something above my head. There’s enough play so I can move my arms as they rest on the platform, but not enough to escape my fate. You have a safe word. That’s your escape. He will respect it. He will. But I’m not safing out. I will not let a bunch of faceless, nameless freaks beat me.
With little effort, he has me in a loose frogtie, with my thighs spread open. “Pound the whore,” someone calls as Gray’s fingers dip into me. My walls embrace him. It’s not a conscious act, just a reaction.
“You’re wet, Delilah,” he murmurs, and then his sensuous purr is gone, replaced by the vulgar taunts and whistles.
Hours seem to pass while I wait with only the mocking from the other room.
My mind eventually wanders to the beach house, where there was so much peace and serenity. I focus on the majestic views, and soon the crash of the waves drowns out the impatient catcalls from the other room and I feel myself relax. Just a bit—until the first jolt of electricity hits my naked flesh. My body jerks from the exquisite tingling, and for a short moment, I relish it. But then the crass shouts come flooding back—a stark reminder that we’re not alone.
Gray plays on my skin, rousing the nerves in a way that makes my core clench. It feels amazing, but I try not to move, and just focus on staying quiet. I don’t want to add to the pleasure for those bastards in the other room. But when Gray pulls off the clamps, I wince and whimper. And the men cheer.