Temptation at Twilight: Lords of Pleasure (8 page)

Vaguely, she heard Kai tell the demons to move her to the stage for the final preparations. She guessed other slaves had been sold tonight in similar fashion, and now it was her turn.

They helped her to stand between two poles, and then Kai directed the demons to cuff each of her wrists to the top of them while he did her ankles. She was spread in a human X, completely at the mercy of fate.

Her pussy heated, and she whimpered. She made another helpless noise when Kai again took up his jar and began to rub the cream on a nipple, making it instantly harden under his expert touch. Then the other.

The real torture came when he applied the same care to her exposed, pouting pussy lips, getting them nice and slick. She groaned, tilting her hips as he rubbed her slit and teased her clit, creating whorls of unbearable delight that spiraled from her cunt outward to every nerve. Then he stopped, leaving her right on the edge and ready to scream.

“No coming, honey,” he said. “Not yet.”

Not yet? Did he mean . . . ? Her eyes widened and she stared at him.

“That’s right. You will come, but you’ll do it for the audience, before the bidding starts. Gets the prospective buyers all excited so they’ll drop more credits.”

This time, she broke the rule and stammered, “I-I’m going to orgasm in front of an entire club packed with people?”

“That’s right. It’s part of the show. Gets the audience riled up. And now my part is done. The handler has volunteered to master your body for the crowd.”

“What?” Oh, gods, she burned. Her pussy was on fire.

Kai smiled. “Relax and enjoy the ride. It’ll be a high like nothing else you’ve experienced, and before this night is over, you’ll be the perfect, dirty little slut your master is going to devour with a spoon.”

She moaned, writhing in her restraints, helpless against the burning need consuming her.

“Curtain time!”

The velvet slowly parted, and the crowd no longer mattered. She needed to be fucked. Owned.

She finally knew—this was Harley Vaughn. All those lonely years of searching ended here tonight.

At last, she would have a place to belong. And with any luck, a master who’d appreciate and cherish his slave.

“W
e have your table waiting, Lord Soren!” a blond twink chirped. “Right this way.”

Soren eyed the interior of the club as he and Leila followed, wishing he hadn’t let the witch talk him into coming here. His Helena would never have been caught dead—or undead—in a place like Lash, with its sleek decadence, lust heavy in the air. That she was an innocent in such a depraved world was a big part of what he’d loved about her; she’d been his refuge from the excesses of indulgence.

There would be no refuge here.

The club itself was living, breathing sex. The waitstaff wore little, were young and beautiful down to the last male and female alike. They existed to tempt, to fuel lurid fantasies and drive customers insane with the thought of what treasures were for the taking, if they cared to reach out and grab them.

His fangs throbbed and his groin tightened in black pants that were suddenly much too small in the crotch. There was no use pretending he wasn’t affected, so he didn’t try. Here he was just one aroused male among many, and acting differently would make him obvious in a place where standing out wasn’t good.

The twink showed them to one of the best tables: near the stage, yet off to the side in a private alcove. Soren didn’t like sitting in the middle of a crowd or having people at his back in the dark. The Fontaine name alone ensured the brothers had enemies, and he had no desire to entice one of them to bury a knife between his shoulder blades. It wouldn’t be the first attempt.

Leila scooted into the booth beside him, flicking her black hair over one shoulder with a toss of her head, a calculated move he loathed. There was nothing more unattractive to him than a female who knew she was physically perfect and wanted to make certain everyone else noticed, as well. One night, he’d take a pair of shears to the gleaming tresses while she slept. Butch her up a bit and then watch the fireworks.

Better yet, he’d help her
really
toss her head—by using his sword to cleave it from her neck. Too bad he wasn’t carrying. But he’d been ordered never to use it again, a mandate he’d followed to the letter.

Leila stroked his arm, gaining his attention. “You’re so tense. I would’ve thought our quickie before we left had fixed that.”

He shot her a look of annoyance. “Sex doesn’t fix everything.”

“Right.” She snorted. “Says the man who owns a sex resort.”

“Our guests are seeking the unusual, an escape from their troubles,” he pointed out shortly. “For most, it’s not everyday life.”

“Yet you and your brothers, former Warriors of Exodus, decided to make pleasure your business,” she mused. “Why is that, I wonder? What made you stop fighting monsters, especially when you have those wonderful, magical swords that can supposedly slay any supernatural creature, no matter how ancient its powers?”

A nasty jolt of surprise went through him as he stared at her. “Where did you hear that?” he hissed, glancing around even though they were shielded from most conversation. “Our tenure with Exodus was more than a century ago. It’s not common knowledge outside the Council.”

“From the same place I heard you were dismissed from Exodus, and all three of you were forbidden to use the swords ever again.”

Surprise gave way to a chill that slithered down his spine. “Ancient history. I can’t imagine why it would interest you.”

“A few decades isn’t so long ago. And you’re my mate! I’m interested in knowing everything about you.” Leaning in, she kissed his cheek and then looked toward the stage. “Oh, look! The show is starting.”

Thank the gods.
Sex might not be a fix, but it
was
a refuge at times, especially from nosy questions. How the hell had the priestess learned about their banishment from Exodus? Did she know why? And how had she known of the swords’ existence when he and his brothers had done their best to let them fade into a distant memory? She’d been fishing; he was certain of it. He’d have to find out what she was after.

Turning his attention to the stage, he forced himself to uncoil and try to appreciate the display of beauty being paraded for their pleasure. Some were to be auctioned for household duties or factory work, but the prime stock destined to be used for sexual purposes was presented with a bit more fanfare. This was the case with a human male who was escorted forward and placed on a torture rack, blue eyes wide with fear. Not all of him was afraid, though, as evidenced by the rock-solid hard-on jutting from between his slender thighs.

The crowd gave a collective cheer, then began to murmur among themselves as his oiled body was stretched, his nipples clamped, and his round little ass filled with the biggest dildo Soren had ever seen. The handler worked the dildo in and out of his channel, claiming loudly that the boy was extremely sensitive and loved pain. He would come without his cock and balls ever being touched.

Minutes later, after being whipped, pinched, and ass-fucked with the toy, the boy gave a loud cry and shot ropes of pearly white cream all over the stage before slumping in exhaustion. The delighted crowd cheered again, and the bidding was opened at twenty thousand credits, which quickly soared as determined would-be masters attempted to outdo one another.

Soren had to admit that the sight caused his already aching erection a great deal of misery. Though he preferred the soft curves of a woman, beautiful bodies were meant to be enjoyed, and there wasn’t much he hadn’t done with either sex. The boy would’ve made an entertaining addition to the resort if he and his brothers believed in keeping slaves. Which they didn’t.

Thinking of Aldric’s reaction when he learned where Soren would be tonight deflated his erection more than a little. Their argument, three days ago was fresh in his mind, and he didn’t fancy a repeat should his fear turn out to be true. Maybe the witch was wrong and Helena wouldn’t be here.

As the auction went on, he kept an eye on the club’s staff, searching in vain for a familiar, petite blonde, though he knew deep down she wouldn’t look exactly the same. But similar, perhaps? At least a resemblance in her expressions, the way she walked, her gestures. Or maybe—

His train of thought was arrested when the dark velvet curtains slid open to reveal the next subject. A woman standing between two poles, wrists and ankles cuffed so that she was stretched wide. Like the others, she was gloriously naked. But none so far were as beautiful as this female.

She was rather tall, her skin glowing and supple, graceful limbs tanned and toned. Her figure was lush, with full breasts and a tapered waist that flared into hips and a nice round ass that he could picture being more than a delightful double handful when he plowed into it. Auburn hair swept past her shoulders and framed a face he could only describe as bold. She possessed high cheekbones, large green eyes laced with long, dark lashes, and pouty lips that would look fabulous wrapped around his cock.

In a word, she was stunning.

Sitting up, he felt his rod thicken again as he studied her. Dazzling and dramatic, she looked nothing at all like his small, pale Helena. Immediately, he felt disloyal making those comparisons, but he couldn’t help but notice.

What was he thinking? Did he actually believe this was the one he’d been waiting for?

He did feel drawn to her, and it wasn’t just her beauty. Despite the crowd, the proximity of too many bodies carrying a variety of odors, one sweet scent made its way to him, almost masked by the almond-and-honey cream the club’s assistants smeared on the slaves. Something warm that reminded him of tropical flowers growing wild, of sunny beaches and naked bodies writhing in the sand.

Gods, he must be nuts. But he stared in rapt attention as the handler began to put her through her paces. He removed a string of graduated anal beads from his pants pocket.

Soren couldn’t have moved at this point if a horde of bloodthirsty ogres charged into the room. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the spectacle as the handler spun the platform around so that her backside faced the audience. Smiling, he pried her ass cheeks apart so everyone could get a good view of the pink rosette of her back passage. A young man with purple hair quickly came onto the stage, holding a jar of what Soren figured was the aphrodisiac paste, and the handler took a scoop before the boy disappeared again.

With two fingers, he began to work the paste into his captive’s tight little asshole. She made the loveliest sounds, little whimpers that betrayed how much she craved this sweet torture. Her rear shoved back into his hand, encouraging more. The handler stretched and worked her, no doubt driving her insane with need.

Then he took the end of the string of anal beads and began pushing them in, using the smallest one, slowly. One and another. The beads got larger, and her little hole ate them as she groaned, pushing against his hand, begging with her body.

A hand worked at his belt, and Soren became aware of Leila unfastening his pants and lowering the zipper. He didn’t have the will to protest as she fished out his rigid cock, began stroking the heated length.

“Didn’t I tell you that your love would be found here?” she murmured into his ear. Her tongue traced his lobe and her hand felt so good.

“You did,” he said, sucking in a breath. The beads continued to be sucked into the woman’s plump ass. “But this female doesn’t resemble Helena at all.”

“Don’t you feel a connection?”

“I feel something,” he admitted in confusion. He shouldn’t, though. Not for this wanton creature who looked and acted nothing like his mate. “How do I know for sure it’s really her before I bid?”

“I think you know. Can’t you scent her? Doesn’t she smell irresistible?”

“Yes.”

The stroking was delicious, her fingers diving down to caress and squeeze his balls before she stroked again. He pumped his hips into her touch. The priestess’s voice was husky, seductive.

“Look at her, the hungry little slut. Imagine what you will do to her once she is yours.”

He could. His mind didn’t need much suggestion to go down that dark, dangerous road. Leila’s thumb brushed his slit, smeared pre-cum around the sensitive head. Onstage, the beauty was full, and the handler took a paddle to her ass, delivering loud smacks. Her cries were so needy as the paddle did its job, jostling the beads inside her passage and driving her insane with lust.

Soren imagined he could almost feel what she felt with every hit of the paddle. He burned, so hot, wanting to be the one with the right to use her.

“You will have her, and my bargain will be fulfilled,” the witch promised, as though reading his mind. “Just think how you’ll make her writhe and whimper, bend her to your will, make her scream. She’ll be your slave, your fuck toy, and you can do anything you want to her. Isn’t that right?”