Opulent Obsession: A Dark Secret Society Romance

by Hensley, Alta

  The sound of forks hitting plates had a very distinct sound. And as normal as it is for me, I did hate that it was our melody today for breakfast.

  And it remained like that until Mrs. H walked in.

  “Good morning,” she said with a cheery disposition. When she saw that we were not matching her in mood, she asked, “How are things going? You guys are getting closer to the finish line. That has to be good.”

  We both looked up from our food and nodded.

  “How are the Trials going?” she asked, not letting us brush her off as we were doing to each other.

  “Fine,” Fallon said.

  “Fine,” I repeated.

  Her eyebrow raised. “Fine? From what I know of the Trials, I wouldn’t exactly use that word to describe them. Care to elaborate?”

  “Just a lot of sex,” Fallon said as she shoveled eggs into her mouth as an excuse to not have to say anything more.

  “Yeah, just a bunch of sex,” I parroted.

  Mrs. H crossed her arms against her chest and then huffed. “I can see you’re both tired. Probably even reaching your breaking point… maybe you feel you already have.”

  Her face softened. “Just know that you aren’t the first ones to feel this way. It’s hard as you get toward the end. I’ve seen it a hundred times. You think you’re used to the trials, but they get harder. Your patience starts wearing thin, each one tests you in new ways, breaking you down more than you ever knew possible. But you both have to stay together as a strong team. You have a bond and connection from your past that will keep you together through this until the very end.”

  She walked over to Fallon and ran her palm down her hair. “I know you’re both tired. I see it in your eyes. Just focus on the finish line. You’re both about to get everything you want. Don’t give up.”

  Fallon nodded slowly and looked up at her with a weak smile. I too tried to smile my assurance that all was well and we didn’t need this pep talk, but I felt anything but.

  I was tired. She was right. I was so fucking tired and wanted to march out of this house every single hour of the day. Yes, we were close to the end, but each minute that passed was like a damn eternity.

  Clearly seeing that neither of us were up to conversation, she said, “I’ll leave you two to finish your breakfast, but maybe you should get out for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Get some fresh air.” She left us then, and we were alone with the sound of forks on plates.

  I cleared my throat as I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “Do you want to go for a walk today? Maybe go for a swim?” We had been locked inside for several days, and I couldn’t tell you the last time I had actually seen sunlight that wasn’t through a pane of glass.

  “Not really,” she said and then took the final swallow of her orange juice. “I’d rather get back to the painting I’m working on.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding in relief. I was hoping she would decline my offer. It had been so weird between us since the spider incident, and well… I wasn’t exactly sure how to rebound and find what we once had. She kept to herself. I kept to myself. It worked, and yet it was so fucking broken.

  “Okay. I have some work to do anyway,” I said, though I doubted that she gave much thought or care as to what I did.

  Not because she was being mean or anything. She was simply lost in her work, and frankly… I didn’t blame her. I actually was a bit jealous that she had a way to escape this place. She could get lost and I just had to… well… I just had to feel lost.

  We spent the rest of the day in silence. She painted and I did as much work that I could for the business from my laptop. It had become our normal. Our routine.

  When there was a knock on the door, followed by the butler bringing in a box, I had nearly lost all track of time. But of course—in this place—reality always came knocking.

  Fallon sighed loudly. “What lovely Trial do we get to look forward to for tonight?”

  I opened the box and the minute I did, I threw it across the room. “No fucking way. No. Enough is enough.”

  “What is it?” she asked as she walked up to the box that now laid on the ground. “Collars?” She lifted a red one and a white one out of the box and looked at me with confusion in her eyes as she placed them on top of the dresser. “This is what has you upset?”

  “Red means you’re shared with others by my choice, and white means shared by all. And there’s a note that says ‘Now’. They beckon and we’re just expected to have you go and fuck whoever wants you.” Usually there was a black collar that meant you could keep your belle to yourself. Where was the fucking black collar?

  “Okay… and…”

  Her nonchalance about what I just said baffled me. “And? Really? No fucking way am I going to allow you to be shared with all those men in the room. You might not care, but I do!”

  Her eyes got cold. “The way I see it is that no matter what, I’m getting fucked by someone tonight. So what does it matter by who?”

  “Fallon!” I shouted in disbelief. I nearly charged to where she stood to shake some sense into her. “You sound like a goddamn whore right now. I know you don’t mean this.”

  “A goddamned whore,” she repeated, pursing her lips and blinking hard before shrugging.

  Shit, that came out wrong. But before I could take it back, she was smiling up at me, a bright, brittle smile. “Well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do, and you can call me whatever you want. It’s a Trial. Frankly, I’d prefer one of these damn collars over being locked in a room with spiders any day.”

  “You don’t need to do this.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Hell, I don’t need to do this.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  I shook my head. “You want money. Fine. I’ll write you a check. I’ll make sure you never want again. And as for the business… I don’t need to take it over. My dad will allow me to keep working there, and even if he doesn’t… I have skills to get a job anywhere when it comes to oil.”

  “Stop,” she snapped.

  “I mean it. I don’t know why it took me this long to realize this. But we both don’t have to do this. There are other ways to get what we want. And Sully didn’t pass the Trials, so I wouldn’t be the first. And frankly, I don’t give a shit anymore as to what people think. I’m never going to live up to Timothy’s memory, so I don’t even know why I try.”

  I paused and then looked at her. “How much money did you ask for? I might not have as much, but I can keep you comfortable.”

  “I don’t want your fucking money!” she yelled. “I refuse to be a charity case any longer! What the fuck is wrong with your family? I’ve been a charity case my entire life, and it doesn’t feel good. It’s time I actually get the life that I should’ve always had. On my terms. I don’t want someone to give it to me. I want to take it. I want to demand it. I want to get it by my terms and my actions.”

  “You need to let that shit go,” I yelled back. “So what if you were on scholarship at Darlington Academy. Who fucking cares? You act like that was such a bad thing. You were never seen as a charity case!”

  “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. I sure as hell was seen as a charity case. And what’s worse is there were strings attached. There always are.”

  She was all but shaking in her fury and I had no clue why as she continued ranting, “Your mother and your father saw me as the poor little maid’s daughter. They hated that you were friends with me. They hated that I was around you and the house all the time. And the minute you all could get rid of me, you did! And I wasn’t on a scholarship for your information. Someone paid my way… as a charity case.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What did my parents have to do with this? We didn’t get rid of you. You left. And what do you mean no scholarship? Who would pay for you to attend? I’m not following you at all. I get that you’re angry. And after what we’ve been through lately…”

  She froze,
stared into my eyes for several moments. “You know what… it doesn’t matter. What matters is we will pass tonight’s Trial because I’m not giving up. I’m not allowing you to give up. We committed ourselves to this, and there’s no turning back. And we don’t have time to discuss this anymore right now.”

  She picked up the white collar—the white fucking collar—and shot daggers my way. “This isn’t just about you, Rafe. Not everything is just about you.”

  With that, she stormed out the door with collar in hand. And just to really piss me off… she stopped right outside the hallway and stripped off all her clothes. Tossing them inside the room, she marched toward the ballroom giving me no choice but to follow behind her.

  16

  Fallon

  I stomped down the stairs, finishing clamping the collar around my neck as I reached the bottom step. I heard Rafe’s heavy feet clamoring down the steps behind me, but he was too late. I was striding naked into the ballroom, my white collar displayed for everyone to see.

  Like usual, the ballroom was filled with naked bodies, though since we’d arrived right at the start of the party, it was mainly only the women who were naked. All women were wearing white collars.

  Including me.

  Gulp.

  What the hell had I just done?

  But I lifted my head higher. I was done playing pretend with Rafe. All it ended up doing was hurting me far deeper than any of the stupid bastards could hurt me tonight.

  Rafe was not my childhood best friend, my first crush, my teenage love. Not anymore. He was just a man who I was trying to reconcile with a memory. But. It. Wasn’t. Him.

  And it was like running at a sprint face first into a brick wall over and over again hoping for more and then having him pull away again and again. And then what he’d tried back there in the room? Trying to give me a check like I was the whore he accused me of being. I shook my head in disgust even at the memory.

  He was just like his father. Throw money at the problem instead of dealing with it. He didn’t like the thought of sharing me with other men, so he’d just buy me for himself or to pay off his conscience or whatever the fuck that was about.

  Fuck that.

  No. It was time to get back to why I’d come here in the first place. I wouldn’t be beholden to anyone but myself.

  I could do this all on my own.

  Rafe had finally made it to the ballroom, and an Elder led him to a chair set along the center of the wall. Courtside seats. The chair was huge, wing-backed, almost like a throne. Of course it was, I smirked bitterly.

  These men thought they were kings and we were just the chattel, the consorts in their harem to please them. Nothing really ever changed from ancient times to today.

  In the corner, a string quartet played. Soft, sensuous music. The cellist leaned long on his bow and the note echoed hauntingly throughout the room.

  And I used what power had been given to women throughout time. The power my mother had used when she must’ve felt like she had no other power.

  I lifted my hands, and I began to sway with the low music. It was in three-fourths time, a sort of waltz in a minor key. Back and forth my hips swayed, and I imagined what I would paint afterwards.

  Chaos colors, browns sung through with bright yellows and pinks and blood red fighting for the light. Defying gravity even as hands nearby began to reach for me.

  First a rough grasp on my breast. Then hands grasping my ass.

  In my head, I was singing colors with the violin and painting shadows with the cello.

  A man’s hand reached between my legs.

  I stood unmoving until other men urged my legs apart, destabilizing me until I stepped wider, allowing more access to the man who now shoved a probing finger to feel around the outside of my dry cunt.

  “Somebody hand me some lube. She’s dry as the Mojave.”

  Chuckles from the men around me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rafe shoot up from his throne. I glared him down. He didn’t look away once we’d locked eyes.

  His face was on fire with fury and possessiveness.

  I arched an eyebrow at him, stepping even wider to allow the men pouring lube on their fingers easier access.

  The bright spots of color at the height of Rafe’s cheeks were so far beyond red they were almost purple.

  Someone below, a finger drenched with lube, finally breached my cunt, shoving inside. My mouth dropped open at the shock of it, and Rafe saw. He took a step forward, but I warned him with my glance to stay back.

  Instead, I let him see, pushing one man back out of the way so Rafe had a full unobstructed view of me. All it took was imagining it was Rafe’s hand below and the natural moisture that had so far been absent sprung up like a wellspring.

  A grunt from below indicated someone’s pleasure at my response, but I ignored them. I only had eyes for Rafe.

  And then a wet, lubed up finger probed my ass at the same time I was being finger-fucked. Other hands grasped my breasts, and then someone was sucking on my nipple while still others grasped the flesh at my waist.

  I looked at Rafe. He looked like a bull ready to explode.

  But I also didn’t miss the bulge in the front of his suit pants.

  Eyes wet with emotion, a shudder of pleasure wracked my body. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the tremors continued.

  “Fuck this one’s hot. She’s coming so hard on my hand, she’s squeezing me like a fucking vise.”

  “Just wait till I get my cock in this tight little ass of hers. You think that cunt’s squeezing you tight, you should feel back here.”

  One finger retreated from my backside only for two more, it felt like two different men, trying to push in my anus afterwards.

  I yelped, pushed forward by the force of their intrusion.

  “Fuck this, I want to feel her on my dick. Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Behind me, I heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper being yanked down.

  And all of a sudden, I felt panicked. Wait, wait, this wasn’t just fun and games anymore. Of course I’d known in the back of my head this was where it would end up. Not just fingers and teasing touches and groping.

  They’d want to fuck me. More than one of them, likely.

  Maybe they’d all want to fuck me, one after the other. Did they do that to Mom? How did she feel when she’d been in this same position?

  The collars were a tradition and since she hadn’t been chosen as a belle, she would have been at a party like this in a white collar. All the other women here were in white collars. I didn’t know about the other belle, I couldn’t see her. All I could imagine was my mom. Men touching her, hands and fingers and cocks all around her.

  Had she welcomed their touch, or shuddered at it like I did now? Had she wanted to scream about how unfair it was? Or did she feel power in commanding their pleasure, in bringing them to their knees as she dominated them and led them around by their cocks even if only for a few moments here and there?

  Was it simply about pleasure? Because the man still exploring at my pussy had found my clitoris and he knew what to do with it. Did Mom just get addicted to men who could bring her pleasure in a world full of pain and disappointment? Was this the one place she could come, throw her body to these ravenous men, get her brains fucked out, and forget in the ecstasy of pleasure for a few hours every couple of weeks?

  Would I ever know or understand?

  Because the second I felt the head of a bare cock brushing against my ass, I knew the answer for myself: NO.

  No, for me it was a big fat NO.

  I didn’t want to be fucked up the ass by a stranger. I looked to the throne, to where Rafe had stood only moments before.

  But he wasn’t there anymore.

  For a second I felt bereft.

  He’d left. Again.

  It was too much for him. Although I couldn’t say this time I hadn’t driven him away.

  It was a hurricane in my head: what did I do? Let myself
get fucked? Cling so hard to what I claimed I wanted—autonomy—that I allowed myself to be used like this?

  It was just a body, I tried to argue back. Who cared what happened to it or how I used it? If this was what it took to get what was owed me—

  But when the cock moved against my ass, closer to my anus, my instinctual response was again so strong:

  NO.

  Not like this.

  Whatever I did, however I succeeded or failed in life, it wouldn’t be by allowing this strange man to fuck me in this moment.

  I started to yank away, twisting my pelvis away from the seeking cock. But right before I could open my mouth to say the words that would free me from this Trial, from my entire time at the Oleander, suddenly the man at my back disappeared.

  My mouth dropped open in surprise as I turned to look behind me. I didn’t have long to register that it was Rafe pulling all the men away from me, because a second later, he was sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me out of the ballroom and back up the stairs, away from all the prying eyes and intrusive hands.

  Goddamn him, he’d rescued me after all.

  And I let him.

  But before I could say a word to him, to thank him, to tell him I was sorry for yanking the stupid white collar out of the box, he was slamming the door behind us in the bedroom and then dropping me onto my feet.

  “Rafe, I—”

  He pushed me back against the wall, pressing his body against mine and caging me in. “You drive me insane, you know that? What the fuck was that, Fallon? Did you like all those men touching you? Did you like fucking torturing me like that?”

  My whole body sparked to life. From his words, yes, but also from the feeling of his body pressed up against mine.

  Because I was furious, but I also felt safe, and turned on, and all of that made me even more furious, even though I couldn’t even begin to untangle all the things I was feeling and whether any of them were reasonable or not.