Enthrall Him (Enthrall Sessions Book 3)

by Fewings, Vanessa

  I was my very own sex star.

  And the other half of my star was out there somewhere, probably having forgotten his sub was new to all this over the top fuckery. This hardcore stuff Cameron had alluded to and Richard and once tried to keep me away from.

  This was probably similar to the party shenanigans back at Chrysalis when things got swinging. With Cameron and Richard acting as the grand masters of play.

  They were acclimated to this.

  Unlike me.

  I nudged up to Mistress Summer for protection, hoping she’d be able to scare off any of these alpha males who were zeroing in on me.

  One of them headed fast in our direction.

  I was whisked away on the end of a chain by Summer.

  Under the archway and into another dimmed room, where more sexual exploits unfolded. Five women were going at it with each other on a central table, all arms and legs. Oral sex for some. One of them wore a strap-on and ground her female partner from behind, and in front of her lover, a woman was having her pussy licked.

  Fifty or so men stood round--all of them masked, all of them wearing tuxes.

  A low, sinking feeling that we weren’t here because of Cameron filled me. He’d always protected me from these kinds of soirees. He knew I wasn’t ready.

  We were surrounded by visions of intimacy.

  We made our way out into the night.

  A sea of men in tuxes all wore masks. A wave of panic overcame me. I was never going to find Richard amongst all these suited clones. I scanned the scene of men gathered here and there, all of them engrossed in conversation.

  Scantily clad women carried drinks on trays.

  They, like me, would be grateful for all these patio heaters out here.

  Down beyond the garden was an enormous lake and it was still like glass, and beyond that an immense shadowy woodland. On the other side of the lake stood twenty or so men in robes, all of them wearing masks, all of them performing some kind of arcane ceremony before a tall statue of a naked Venus. I recognized the sculpture from one of the paintings I’d seen at the Tate. A fire had been set at her feet.

  Although I was too far away to hear what they were saying, I knew they were worshiping that statue.

  “Hello, Mia,” said a crisp British accent. “How did you find my collection?”

  The tall man was wearing a plague doctor’s mask. His eyes were a stunning green, and his hands were tucked casually into the pant pockets of his tux.

  “I found it very interesting,” I said. “The two headed baby was a hoot.”

  His green eyes lit up in a smile behind his mask.

  “Mia!” another man called out.

  My heart soared with happiness when I saw Richard making his way towards me through the swarm of people, slipping his mask up and resting it on his forehead.

  He swept me up into his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, dropping me gently back down. “What are you wearing?”

  “Not much.”

  His gaze drifted toward my sex. “What have you got on your…” He gestured the rest and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “What is that?”

  I threw a self-conscious glance over at Summer. “Glitter.”

  Plague doctor hadn’t taken his eyes off me. If that was his collection, this was his place. I’d attracted the attention of the Tsar.

  Richard removed his jacket and placed it around my shoulders to cover me. “You look cold, baby.” He arched a brow.

  “Thank you.” I pulled it around me.

  “We’re not staying,” said Summer. “Mia has a question for you.”

  Oh jeez. I was meant to be asking permission to rejoin the girls back in the tart-a-sphere.

  I rose up on my toes and whispered in his ear, “I have to talk to you privately.”

  The Tsar held out his hand to Richard. “May I introduce myself?”

  “Richard Booth.” He shook the Tsar’s hand.

  “I’m sorry,” said Summer. “I thought you’d already been introduced. “Richard, this is the director of Oberon, our Tsar. Richard was invited by Dr. Cole—”

  “Your invitation is something I would very much like to discuss,” said the Tsar.

  Richard’s face became unreadable. “It’s an honor.”

  “Sheppard?” a man yelled from the crowd as he hurried toward us.

  The short, plump man patted Richard’s back. “Haven’t seen you since Harvard.” He slid off his mask. “How are things? You look good.”

  “Remy?” said Richard, recognizing him. “How are you?”

  Remy shot us a concerned look. “Haven’t interrupted anything have I?”

  Summer stepped forwards. “Mr. Booth, your owlet needs your permission to fully enjoy the nest.”

  Richard’s expression changed to confusion.

  “Is this your submissive?” asked Remy, sounding impressed. “Fuck me, she’s hot.”

  Richard was staring at the Tsar and the Tsar was staring at me.

  “I was sorry to hear about your dad,” said Remy. “Terrible. I heard he still has some funds stashed away somewhere.”

  Richard looked pained. “The feds took it all.”

  “It wasn’t your father’s to keep,” said the Tsar.

  A petite masked owlet came by and offered up a tray of drinks. The Tsar gave one to both Richard and Remy.

  The Tsar took one for himself. “Will you join me in a toast? Please, share with me this Dalmore.”

  Remy’s eyebrows shot up.

  “We should probably go,” said Richard softly.

  “The fun’s just begun,” said Remy. “How old is this?”

  Richard took a sip. “Sixty-two years old. That’s why it’s called Dalmore 62.”

  “Fuck me,” said Remy.

  “Indeed,” said the Tsar.

  A yank at my collar.

  Mistress Summer gave another tug at the chain and it sent a jolt of pain into my neck.

  “Shall we leave the men to enjoy their drinks?” she said.

  “I have to ask him.” I rose onto my toes and whispered in Richard’s ear. “Helete’s here.”

  Richard’s eyes snapped to mine. “Here?”

  “Yes, in the nest.” I was too embarrassed to share in front of these men what she’d been doing. Or what they wanted to do to me.

  Richard scanned the crowd and I assumed he was looking for Lance.

  “We should let the ladies go,” said the Tsar. “So we can talk, Mr. Sheppard.”

  “I go by Booth now.”

  “You use your middle name?” said Remy. “Can’t say I blame you.”

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” said Richard.

  “A private matter,” said the Tsar. “Mistress Summer, perhaps you can find some pleasurable entertainment for Ms. Lauren?” He made a gesture he wanted us to go.

  “Where did you find her?” said Remy, his lustful stare on me.

  “Mia was a gift to Mr. Booth,” said the Tsar. “If I remember correctly?”

  “A gift?” said Remy, chuckling. “And it’s not even Christmas yet.” He turned to the Tsar. “What does a man have to do to get a gift like that?”

  “I’m too am intrigued,” said the Tsar. “What does one have to do?”

  “I have to sit down,” said Richard, blinking. “Did you…” He shook his head. “I feel a little…”

  Remy’s stare fell on his drink.

  The Tsar pulled a chair over and told Richard to sit.

  I knelt at Richard’s feet. “What’s wrong?”

  He leaned into my ear. “I think…my drink…Mia…” He motioned to Summer then slumped back.

  “Richard?” I grabbed his shirt.

  “Fuck!” His eyelids closed, his head lolled, and he rubbed his eyes as though trying to keep them open.

  “Should we get a doctor?” asked Remy.

  “What did you do to him?” I shouted at the Tsar. “What did you put in his drink?”

  Hands grabbed me an
d pulled me up. Two men who looked like bouncers held me back.

  The Tsar was kneeling in front of Richard, whispering to him.

  I tried to wriggle free.

  The Tsar looked back at Summer. “Take Mia. Put her somewhere safe,” he told her.

  A tug on my collar was sharp and almost pulled me over. Mistress Summer dragged me behind her. She pulled me along the courtyard and those two men manhandled me to ensure I didn’t escape.

  “I’m not leaving him,” I screamed.

  Those powerful hands were impossible to break free from. In a panic, I was led past eyes that gaped from behind sinister masks.

  “Please, I can’t leave him,” I said.

  Once inside the house, Mistress Summer turned to face me. “Don’t make a scene, Mia. We’ve got this. He’s just had too much to drink.”

  “He was fine a minute ago,” I said. “You saw that. Someone—”

  “Wait.” Death doctor sprinted toward us.

  My heart all but stopped as he got closer. His mask was intimidating.

  He caught up and motioned for them to let me go.

  The Tsar trapped me between him and the wall, looming over me. “I didn’t drug Richard. And if you ever tell anyone I did, you’ll end up in one of those glass cases. Do you understand?”

  Yes, he was quite clear, and he’d also tipped his hand he’d been watching me view his fucked up and highly illegal collection.

  He turned to his men. “Replay the footage.”

  I yanked the chain out of Summer’s hand and ducked under the Tsar’s arm and sprinted down the hallway.

  “Ms. Lauren,” the Tsar called after me. “I have a camera in every hallway and in every room. You might as well come back.”

  A man casually walked towards me.

  The same one who’d been stalking me was heading in my direction.

  He was going to cut me off.

  I bolted right and skidded along wooden floors as I turned toward a smaller hallway. A large chest was pushed up against the wall, but I had no time to hide inside it. I sprinted on.

  Footsteps approached fast behind me.

  I shoved open a doorway.

  And flew down a stairwell.

  I needed to find a phone.

  Needed to call for help. Whatever they’d given Richard had affected him quickly, and I was terrified what they’d do to him. I needed to make that call and go find him as soon as possible.

  Halfway down another corridor, I dodged a housekeeper and ignored her call to slow down.

  A door slammed behind me.

  “Mia!” a man called out.

  I burst though another doorway and sprinted towards a dark wooden desk, reaching out for the phone.

  My hand pulled back—

  Five men stood around a roaring fireplace. They’d removed their masks and all were holding dark liquor in tumblers. Their collars were open casually, revealing they were taking a break from formality. Their tux jackets were off and strewn here and there.

  “I’ll only be a second,” I told them, reaching out for the receiver.

  The door flew open and a masked man stepped in. He turned and locked the exit behind him.

  I was trapped between him and the desk.

  The men set their drinks down.

  “Hello again, Mia,” said the masked man.

  Even with his face covered, I knew it was him; his arrogant gait, his sinister voice, the way he glared at me.

  Lance’s strides didn’t take long to reach me. His fingers wrapped around my throat and with one hand he squeezed and pain seized me, preventing air.

  Gripping his wrists, trying to ease off his fingers, I forced myself to stay conscious.

  A well of panic overcame me as the men closed in.

  Why weren’t they helping?

  They were like a pack of wolves encircling me, or lions.

  And this was their den.

  “Let me go,” I wheezed.

  I grabbed Lance’s pinky finger and tried to use this leverage to pull his hand off.

  His ironclad grip tightened as he shoved me onto my knees. “Excuse me?”

  “Sir,” I gasped.

  Lance let go and stepped back.

  I caressed my neck, trying to gather my thoughts, breath in the air I’d lost, ready to spring to my feet and run. “Have to get back to Richard,” I rasped.

  That damage to my throat wasn’t permanent, I prayed.

  Remembering Shay’s training, I flew into action, trying to shake them off as I went for the door.

  There were too many of them and their restraint came easily. They dragged me back into the center with terrible force, their grips on my limbs overwhelming.

  I was thrown to my knees before Lance.

  “I need a little help to fulfill her kink,” said Lance darkly. “No means yes, if you’re wondering.”

  A wave of nausea.

  My heart beat its way out my chest.

  Our invitation to Oberon Grove had come through Lance. A trap we’d walked right into it.

  “We aim to please,” said one of the men.

  Lance gestured to me. “Gentleman.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “THE DIVINE FEMALE is bold, she is righteous, she is brave,” Dr. Finley’s words found me again.

  But made no sense here. As though my subconscious was sending a message I couldn’t grasp. My thoughts jumbled…

  As they shoved me over that dark wooden desk and my head slammed against it, my mind scrambled for a lifeline, my body halfway between resisting and letting go. Richard’s jacket was ripped from me.

  Futility soaked into my bones.

  On the other side of the desk, my hands were captured in front of me, and behind me a man’s fingers felt along my thigh. To my right stood another, his hands rough at my neck, holding me down.

  Lance watched.

  “Don’t. I don’t want this,” I begged. “Please, let me go.”

  Cruel laughter from those who didn’t care.

  My thoughts dragged me far from here. High into the air. In a helicopter. Cameron’s. Flying to Big Bear to meet…what was her name?

  Jasmine.

  Her words flittered and waned, “Oh no, this can’t be happening to me. What’s going on? Who are you?” She’d feigned mock horror, retelling her fake rape at Pendulum.

  Even though I begged them to stop, they wouldn’t. They believed I wanted this.

  A swinging pendulum.

  To and fro.

  If I cried out for them to stop, the more aggressive they’d be.

  A sob.

  “Save yourself, Mia,” Dr. Finley’s words. “Only then can you save them.”

  Fingers slipping down my spine.

  A pendulum.

  To and fro. To and fro. To and fro.

  “Mia,” Cameron’s voice soothed from somewhere within. “Your intuition is giving you the answer.”

  Fingers explored, preparing to own. Jolting me forwards.

  Jasmine’s face, her words spilling like water…saying something about…

  Pendulum.

  The answer was Pendulum.

  “Lance, I know what really happened that night,” I burst out. “I know what happened to your daughter.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped.

  Someone banged on the door. The Tsar’s voice yelled from the other side. Summer’s voice rose over his.

  “You’ve got it wrong,” I said. “Cameron didn’t hurt your daughter. He saved her.”

  A sting at my scalp as I was forcefully pulled upright.

  Lance glared into my eyes. “Cameron Cole brutally attacked my daughter. He put her in the hospital. That’s what happened.”

  “What is this?” said someone from behind me.

  “No,” I told Lance. “Cameron was called to Pendulum as a doctor. He was called to talk Arabella off the roof of Pendulum after she freaked out. It was another man—”

  A slap across my face knocked me backwards.


  More frantic banging on the door.

  I steadied my feet. “Listen to me,” I yelled. “Arabella went to Pendulum to meet a congressman. Something happened there between them. He triggered her bipolar disorder. She ran to the roof and threatened to jump. That congressman phoned Cameron in the middle of the night and begged him to come to Pendulum. When Cameron turned up, Arabella was on the roof. He talked her away from the ledge, talked her out of jumping. He took her to the hospital. Cameron saved her life!”

  Lance’s face contorted in pain. “You’re fucking lying.”

  “Arabella lives in Seattle now, right?” I said. “She works at a hotel…a Ritz Carlton?”

  Lance stepped back, shaking his head.

  “What the hell is going on?” a voice hissed behind me.

  The men stepped back.

  “Ask your wife,” I said softly. “Ask Helete.”

  “Helete?”

  “Yes, she knows it wasn’t Cameron.”

  “She wouldn’t lie to me,” said Lance. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

  A crash.

  The door flew open as someone kicked it in.

  Cameron sprinted towards me, grabbing me up in his arms. Shay was right behind him, followed by the Tsar and Summer.

  “We didn’t touch her,” said one of the men.

  Helete entered the room, her face full of anguish. “What’s going on?”

  I pointed at her. “You’re a scheming bitch, that’s what’s going on.”

  “Mia,” Summer chastised me.

  “No, listen,” I said. “Forget all that hippo stuff and tell them what really happened.” I swept Richard’s jacket up from the floor and pulled it around me.

  “It’s HIPAA, Mia,” said Cameron. “It’s private. I… can’t.”

  “Everyone out,” yelled Shay. “Now.” He pointed to Lance and Helete. “You’re staying.”

  The men grabbed their jackets and seemed all too happy to leave, trotting out one after the other.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” said Mistress Summer. “You’re going to tell us what the hell is going on.”

  “Will you take that mask off,” Helete snapped at the Tsar.

  He merely stared back at her through his mask, saying nothing.

  “Tell him, Helete,” I said. “Tell your husband it wasn’t Cameron who hurt Arabella. Cameron refuses to tell Lance the truth because he cares more about your daughter than you do.”