by Flite, Nora
The room rumbled to life, everyone starting to move around and talk. It was like a spell had been broken, it reminded me of a crowd after a movie had ended.
Turning my head, I breathed in a few times to try and relax. That scene had been intense, I could never have imagined such a thing existing behind the golden door above.
Someone moved near me, people bustling to exit down the tunnel. I was jostled, so I mumbled a quick apology. As I twisted back around, I found myself face to face with the man who'd been watching me from the wall.
His voice was smooth as smoke. “Hello there, I don't believe we've met. Are you new?”
Oh, shit. “Um, uh,” I sputtered, wishing I could melt into the crowd and escape. “I... yes, this is my first time here.”
“I thought so.” He grinned. “Normally, everyone should arrive in the main room at the start of the night. Late comers are discouraged.” He was chiding me, but he didn't seem upset. Inclining his head, he gave me a once over. “I'm Master Onyx, and you are...?”
Fuck fuck dammit make something up!
“Opal,” I blurted, thinking about my mask. I forced a smile, hoping he would go along with my lies.
He paused, taking a drink from a woman passing by with a tray. She bowed her head, but when she offered me a glass, I didn't take it. “Opal, that's nice. This is your first time, you said? What about this place brought you here? Curiosity?”
“Actually, sort of, yes.” Guess I don't need to lie about everything.
“Then, did you see enough tonight to help you decide which path you'll choose?”
He was losing me. I hesitated, worried I would give myself away if I revealed my lack of knowledge. “I'm not sure. What path did you choose?”
“Isn't it obvious?” He laughed, like I'd made a great joke. Flexing a gloved hand between us, the surface creaking, he bent closer. “The life of a Dom is not for everyone, but I knew right away. We have a few women who do it, but here, it's mostly the men.”
A Dom? I wasn't intimately familiar with the title, but I could figure out his meaning from context. A Dom was a Master.
Master...
I'd forgotten to breathe; the air came out in a hot burst. His nearness, the reminder of the show we'd both watched, was making me flustered. “Aha, right, I see. So... the other choice is more common for women?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Most become submissives. When you decide, there is a list at the door. Just sign your name on the correct page, indicating you'd like to begin your training.” If I could have seen his gaze, I swear he would have winked. “I'd be happy to teach you what it means to bow to a Master, my pretty little Opal.”
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. He was so tall, I could have been swallowed in his shadow. If I'd thought the gold-masked man was intense, Onyx put him to shame. He was a tornado of wickedness and turbulence, ready to claw me up.
Someone clapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, Helm would like to talk to you.”
Onyx frowned, but only for a second. Nodding his head to me, he turned—but his words were liquid silver on his tongue. “Think about what I said. I'd love to hear you gasping again... and from more than just watching a little show.”
Then, he allowed himself to be led away.
I breathed out, hard, leaning on the wall to steady myself. He really was paying attention to me earlier. I was torn between being flattered and terrified. This whole night had been insane. I was ready to leave.
Spinning, I walked quickly from the room, heading out through the group of people gathered in the main area. None of them spoke to me, and I was grateful.
Shoving aside the heavy curtain, my eyes fell on the small table by the archway.
The clipboard, where people sign in... and make their choice.
Peering side to side, finding myself alone, I reached down and flipped through the papers. Now that I knew what I was looking for, it made more sense. These were lists, each of them labeled different things.
Here. I tapped one side. The top read 'New Subs.' This is where he told me to sign. There were only three names. I wondered if one of them had been the blonde I'd watched earlier.
I imagined what it would be like to sign my name there, to put down 'Opal' on that list.
Would I end up tied to a table, spanked and teased until I lost myself in bliss?
Would that man, Onyx, be the one to do it all to me?
If he really meant what he said, then... Trembling, I wrenched myself away and shook my head. No, get a grip. This isn't for you.
With one last look at the clipboard, I fled up the stairs.
- Chapter Seven -
Naomi
The paint smudged along the wall, long strokes of ebony, smokey and rich. Carefully, I added some loose swirls of yellow, creating a burst of contrast. It seemed abrupt, a spark of color from the darkness. I liked the effect.
Apparently, so did Seth.
“That's coming along nicely,” he said from my left. Shocked, I spun, ocher paint splattering onto the man's dove-grey jacket.
“Seth! I'm so sorry!” Horrified, I reached for a rag, but he only lifted his hands and chuckled.
“Shh, easy! It's fine,” he stated, studying the stain. “I didn't mean to scare you, I was just appreciating your work.”
My expression smoothed, but I wasn't entirely convinced I hadn't just ruined an expensive outfit. Setting the brush down on my pallet, I put on a frail smile. “I'm seriously sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out. I'm just a little tired.”
Seth squinted at me, like he was trying to figure out what I meant. I didn't like him being so interested.
“Well,” he began, “I was going to talk to you about that. You've been working very hard these past two days, I don't want you burning out with late hours.”
Just like that, I was reminded of last night.
The cries of pleasure, sharp cracks from palms on smooth flesh; it sent a flicker of heat into my belly. I'm not tired from painting all night, I'm tired because I couldn't sleep after...
In my mind, I heard Onyx's voice, his promise.
'I'd be happy to teach you what it means...'
I shivered.
It had been impossible to decompress after everything I'd witnessed. I'd crawled into the guest bedroom, not even debating asking Corbin for a ride home. This morning, my sheets had been soaked in sweat. I'd been eager—more than eager—to get up and get to work to avoid thinking about why.
Seth was still talking. I shook my head, making myself pay attention.
“—for lunch. If that's alright.”
“Wait, what?” I stared, wishing I'd heard everything he'd said.
“I mean, if you insist on not eating with me, I'll understand. But getting away from this wall might do you some good.” His smile was gentle, his eyes melting over me.
He wants to have lunch?
It was so simple and innocent. I was flattered by his offer. “Sure, I'd like that. When do you want to do this?”
Laughing, he reached into his jacket. The pocket watch he pulled forth caught the light, glittering like an ocean of stars. “I was thinking now, actually.”
“Now?”
“Ms. Starling, it's after two, didn't you realize?”
I hung my head, closing my eyes in defeat. Where has my mind been all day? It was a silly thing to ask myself.
I knew where it had been.
Black gloves, dark promises.
“Alright,” I declared, putting on a firm grin. “Alright, fine, let's get lunch. These paint fumes are going to my head.”
****
I was both surprised, and grateful, when we didn't go very far.
Sitting out in the backyard, we reclined under a large umbrella to hide from the angry sun. It was beautiful; the sky clean and clear, everything smelling of freshly mowed grass.
Corbin served us glasses of mojitos, trays of chilled tomato soup and small finger sandwiches. I felt exorbitantly fancy. Though I was enjoying the
pampering, it would have been better with the paint stains on my clothes washed off.
He didn't bother to change his jacket, what does it matter?
Seth swirled the ice in his glass, mint leaves dancing inside. “You stayed the night here, Corbin tells me.”
Sipping my drink, enjoying the sugar on the rim, I nodded.
What else did he tell you?
“How did you like it?” he asked.
“What, staying here?”
Those blue eyes peered at me through the shade, making me shift on my chair. “Yes, I'm hoping you enjoyed yourself. I'm more at ease when I feel like a real host.”
I motioned with half a sandwich, indicating the table of food, then the yard around us. “Isn't this being enough of a host?”
“For most people,” he chuckled, closing his eyes as he sipped the mojito.
“But not for you,” I stated bluntly. The alcohol was strong, making me bolder. Seth gave me a hard, questioning look, but I didn't back down.
“Not for me,” he agreed. “I admit, I like having some... impact on how my guests are doing.”
I relaxed my tense shoulders and nibbled a sandwich. “You like being in control.”
There, on his face, was a hint of displeasure. That odd, burning threat I'd encountered the day I'd asked about the golden door.
He was silent, his mouth a deep line, brows hooded over his piercing sapphires. My facade was cracking, the alcohol not enough to keep me pushing him.
“Maybe,” he whispered. “Is that a problem for you?”
Swallowing my drink in one gulp, I tried to avoid responding. Shit, I've made him angry. What was I thinking? “No, not a problem, it's your home after all.”
“Correct,” Seth nodded. “My home, my rules.” For awhile, he just studied me. Was he trying to figure out my thoughts? The concept was terrifying. “You did agree to them, you know.”
“Yes, right, I know.” I gazed absently at the sandwich in my hand, my appetite gone. All this talk of rules was cutting into my guilt. Going through that door was wrong. Was my glimpse at the sin behind it worth risking the future I craved?
I needed that admission letter.
Seth could never, ever know what I'd done. And no matter the temptation, I couldn't do it again. The risk was too great.
“As long as we understand each other, Ms. Starling.”
“Of course,” I whispered, looking at my reflection in the ice. “We understand each other perfectly.”
****
I want to say I had better discipline.
It took me three nights until I dug the mask out again.
It hadn't been my plan. Or I told myself that. I didn't want to break the rules Seth had set. But, as I watched the last person enter the gold door, and as Corbin seemed to vanish off to wherever, I couldn't fight my urge.
Is it because I want to see Onyx again?
I buried that thought down deep. I had one tantalizing man infecting my life... I didn't need another.
I put on a dress of shimmering ink and low heels, my lips colored like rubies. The opal mask was my armor.
Then, when the coast was clear, I slipped through the door. The thrill of making it this far gave me confidence. Seth was hardly around, how would he ever catch me doing this?
This is dangerous... but only if he finds out.
And all I wanted was another little peek.
Was that so bad?
At the bottom of the stairs, I bumped into someone.
“Oh!” I gasped, startled and wide-eyed at my mistake. Shit, I've fucked up!
The person turned, her mouth friendly, eyes kind through large mask holes. “Careful, that last step can catch you by surprise. I've fallen before.”
“Yes, good advice,” I replied, painfully on edge. As I looked around, I noticed there were several people standing in line in front of the purple curtain. Someone stood by the table, a man with no mask at all. A man I knew.
Corbin.
In his normal chauffeur clothes, he watched as people signed their names on the clipboard. The line was dwindling fast, my panic becoming a hard thistle in my guts.
What do I do? Will he recognize me?
The woman in front of me carefully wrote her name on a page. “I'm a little nervous about tonight,” she confided.
Corbin offered a kind smile. “Don't be, just enjoy yourself.”
“Right,” she giggled. “I just didn't think I'd go this far.” With that, she brushed through the curtains, leaving me alone with someone who could bring my world crashing down.
He looked up at me, so I forced a careful smile onto my face. Clearing my throat, I grabbed the pen, trying to focus on the clipboard. Instead, I kept flicking my eyes up at him, everything blurring in my massive panic.
In a rush, my fingers shaking, I hastily signed one of the pages. It was a scrawled mess, but I'd been aware enough to write 'Opal' and not my real name.
Get it done, get away from him!
I dropped the pen, fingers cramping. I didn't see where it fell, I was too nervous to watch anything but his calm expression. With a wordless nod, I rushed through the curtains.
On the other side, I breathed easier. My skin was melting from the flush of adrenaline.
I don't think he knew it was me. How could he, with this mask?
Right. If he'd known, he'd have stopped me.
That gave me some solace.
The main room was busy, I was sure there were far more people here than last night. Winding through the group, I observed the women, the men, trying to get a grasp on the social cues. Before I had time, a voice rang out over the crowd.
“Attention, everyone!”
Instantly, there was silence. I followed the stares, spotting someone standing by a hallway. He was tall, built like a Greek statue, and wore the familiar pair of black gloves that had kept me from sleeping.
That's Onyx.
“I have the list,” he said firmly, waving some papers. “These girls will step forward and kneel by me.” He pointed to the floor in front of him.
There was a pregnant pause, everyone waiting anxiously. I figured this must be an important moment, but I wasn't sure why.
In his elegant mask that revealed his delicious lips, Onyx grinned. “Good. The first girl is Tara!”
There was a pleased murmur. I watched as a woman with short, curly brown hair moved forward. Her hands were linked nervously, like she wasn't sure what to do with them. Onyx smiled at her, and she returned it weakly, kneeling down by his feet.
“Next, I need Roseli!”
A woman who challenged the black outfits—her long dress pale yellow and almost transparent—moved with confidence from the crowd. Gently, she folded to the floor, bowing her head obediently.
I blinked, turning to tap the woman beside me. “Excuse me, but what are they doing?”
The lady pursed her lips at me, then looked back to Onyx. “Ah, you've never seen the new girls get collected? Master Onyx is gathering all the women who signed up to be trained as submissives. It's always exciting to see who they'll be, so you'll know if you're interested when they're auctioned.”
I clenched my teeth, afraid I'd say something foolish. Girls being trained to be submissives.
Slaves.
I didn't know how to feel. It was absurd... it was crazy...
It was exciting.
And what was this about an auction?
Onyx was still calling out names, he soon had four girls at his feet. Looking at the list, opening his mouth, he hesitated.
That slow smirk brushed my heart.
He lifted his head and looked out over the crowd, speaking with clear delight in his voice. “And the last girl I'm looking for, is Opal.”
At first, hearing the name, I didn't register it as my own. Standing there blankly, I watched Onyx looking around, seeking the girl he had named. The crowd mumbled, a hushed noise, and he said it again.
“Opal?”
Like a punch to the tem
ple, I was nauseous and stunned. He just called me, why did he call me? How...
The people around me moved, spreading apart in confusion. Onyx was frowning, a break in the crowd revealed me to him.
The second he recognized me, his voice went silky. “Opal, come here and kneel.”
What do I do, what do I do?
Everyone was staring. My legs were waterlogged. I thought, if I took a step, I'd simply crumble. Maybe cracking into a million pieces was better than acknowledging the man staring at me.
He pointed with a gloved finger, his tone low and without negotiation. “Here. Now.”
His voice was powerful, tugging at my most vulnerable places. Strangely, I was compelled. Was it from fear? Pressure? Curiosity? I didn't know, and I didn't have the power to think about it.
I began to move.
Pulled forward, I was suddenly standing within reach of that magnificent man. Here, I was so close, I could almost see behind his mask. The eyes are the window to the soul, and in my terror, I desperately wanted to know what Onyx's soul looked like.
His fingers reached out, gripping my jaw tightly. His words were low, cutting. “I was hoping you'd be on this list. I'm disappointed, though, that you seem to be terrible at obeying.”
Obeying.
That simple word made my lashes flutter. How could this arouse me so much? It was as if I didn't know myself. This skin I wore was another person, a woman tempted by perverse things, a woman flush with dark desire.
Not me.
Not Naomi.
Onyx let his fingers drift, cupping my cheek. Each fraction of me that he touched turned to butter, burned to life. He whispered, “We have a lot of work to do. Now, kneel.”
Then he let go, cold air forming between us. Released from his grip, my strength gave out. I fell weakly to my knees at his feet. My head hung, ears thumping with the drums of my incessant panic.
I was never supposed to be here. I'd just wanted to know more about this world, a place that Seth had tried to hide from me.
Now I was kneeling at the feet of a Master.
What have I gotten myself into?
- Chapter Eight -
Naomi
I walked with the group down a hallway. Like the other passages, it was dimly lit, but I could see where I was going. It was long, curving here and there. I was positive we were traveling deeper.
