by Logan Fox
“About an hour. Maybe more.” Seth shrugged. “It depends. Why, you got someplace else to be?”
“Nah, not that. It’s just…” Ethan ducked closer and dropped his voice so Pearl could only make out a few of his words. “…lost my… everywhere… gone, man. What… go to…?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Seth said, not making an effort to lower his voice. “I’ve never lost a keycard before.” Then his black eyes swept over them. He dropped his arms, gave Ethan a last, dismissive glance, and cocked his head to the entrance of the labyrinth. “Come, kittens.”
They followed him inside, Opal and Morgan frowning at Ethan as they passed. When Pearl came closer, the man opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again. His brows furrowed, those lime-green eyes growing dark as he shook his head and turned to his foxes.
Pearl stifled a shiver and hurried after Gia, fully aware that Ethan was only a few steps behind her following them through the labyrinth.
Her shoulders crawled with every turn, her muscles tensing in expectation of hearing Ethan’s voice. Of that question he burned to ask her, one which she would try and lie about and he’d know… oh God, he’d know, wouldn’t he?
Were you in the labyrinth last night, Pearl?
Did you happen to hear anything, Pearl?
I think you’re lying, Pearl. I think you were there, Pearl. In the labyrinth. Listening to everything I was saying, Pearl.
Were you here, Pearl?
In the labyrinth?
She forced the thought from her mind with difficulty, trying to focus on the here and now. How she was going be whipped and flogged by a complete stranger in front of most of the Fox Pit. Thankfully, neither Caden or Tanner looked like they would be here. Yes, better to think on that than Ethan breathing down her neck, his nervous energy a palpable shiver in the air.
It was the lesser of two evils.
So, that was what Gia had meant when she’d said, “Sort of.” Roll call wasn’t happening in the middle of the labyrinth. They weren’t all sitting around the fire pit, watching as Jarred whipped the newbies.
Oh no.
That would be too simple. Too… common.
Billionaires, apparently, lived for extravagance. Why have a whipping session in the center of a labyrinth on a hundred-acre property in the middle of nowhere when you could have it underneath the labyrinth?
The fire pit, it turned out, was also an entrance. That massive well of concrete was now a gaping hole, from which the flickers of candlelight could be seen casting happy, dancing shadows.
Ethan walked into her.
“Jesus!” He grabbed her shoulders, perhaps to steady himself, and Pearl jolted in shock, ripping herself free and tumbling into Gia.
Her and the blond-haired girl fell in a tangle to the artificial turf, Gia giggling as they tried to sort out their legs and arms and dresses.
“Shit, sorry,” Ethan said, bolting forward and tugging at Pearl’s arm to help her up.
She came to her feet faster than expected, wobbled, and ripped her arm free with a scowl for Ethan.
“I’m fine,” she said, taking a few steps back and smoothing her ruffled skirt.
Ethan opened his mouth, but then closed it again without speaking. Gia was still giggling faintly behind Pearl, and his eyes moved to her, a shadow of concern darkening his irises.
Don’t worry about her, pig. She’s one of the few foxes who actually enjoys this shit.
Pearl tried to wipe the grimace from her mouth but failed. She turned on her heel and crowded behind Gia, mentally urging the girl to move forward so she could put distance between her and Ethan.
Gia’s brain wasn’t on the same telepathic frequency today, though. The girl stayed put, letting out infrequent giggles as they waited for Seth to begin descending the stairs.
It was cool inside the winding staircase — more concrete decked the walls, its gray, colorless monotony brought to life by the streaming candles. A constant breeze tugged at Pearl’s dress, and more than one fox had a tight grip on her skirt, making sure the sunny chiffon didn’t expose her yellow undies to the world.
Weird, how they could still feel the need for modesty. Then again, she had her skirt in a pair of fists and she wasn’t planning on letting go until she absolutely had to.
The concrete stairs wound around three times before opening into a wide passage. More candles lit the walls, but their meager light allowed pools of dark shadows to collect on the floor between them. A set of arched, wooden doors studded with brass barred their way a few feet later, and Seth pushed them open with bunching arms. They seemed reluctant to part at first, moving stiffly as they shuddered over the floor.
There was more light inside than out — it spilled onto the concrete floor as if eager to escape the cube of a room where it had been trapped.
It was cold down here; colder than the dungeon, colder than the lawn outside and the labyrinth last night. But the air, surprisingly, didn’t smell musty. There was only the trace of candlewicks and wax in the air, as if nothing had existed in this room before their presence and, now, the foxes and their handlers.
The room looked like a church.
There were rows of wooden pews, their backs carved with elaborate, woodland scenes featuring foxes and hares and wolves and elk. More often than not, the predators had their teeth around prey. In some, predator fought predator, all claws and teeth and snarling maws.
Seth stopped ahead, guiding Opal into the first pew on the right, closest to the dais. She scooped up a thick, fur cloak from a neat pile stacked on the pew, slipped it over her shoulders, and sat, tugging the hood up.
Morgan followed, then Ivy, Gia, and finally Pearl. Her seat was closest to the narrow aisle.
Pearl had just settled the thick, warm robe over her shoulders when Seth took hold of her shoulders and made her sit. She scowled up at him, but he didn’t seem to notice: he was watching as Ethan led his foxes down the aisle and began positioning them.
“Move over, kitten,” Seth murmured, making vague, shooing motions with his big hands.
Pearl shuffled to the left, shrugging at Gia when the girl looked flustered at Pearl’s sudden proximity. The girls all began to shuffle to the left, making space for Seth. When he settled in beside Pearl, there was no room left between her and Gia; she was sandwiched between them, Gia’s leg jittering against hers, Seth’s as solid as the pew she sat on.
The room had a cramped, compacted feel: the pews were just large enough for them, the aisle less than four feet across. The dais started almost immediately in front of the first pew, five wide steps leading up to the empty platform.
Was the altar arriving later? And the priest? Was there going to be a brief prayer, followed by an hour-long sermon where she’d fall asleep against Seth’s shoulder?
“You’ll be on your best behavior,” Seth said.
It wasn’t a request.
“Yup,” Pearl said. How anyone could be ‘all bratty and stuff’ in a place like this confounded her. Then again, Gia’d had the good stuff.
Across the aisle from Seth, Ethan leaned out and whispered: “So, just Tina? None of the other girls?”
Seth shifted in his seat, black eyes fixed ahead. For a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer Ethan, but then he took a breath that puffed out his chest and shrugged.
“Just Tina and Pearl.”
Pearl shrank back from him at mention of her name. Seth glanced down at her and gave her a small smile. Then he slid his arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him. He didn’t feel the need to wear a robe — or maybe it wasn’t allowed, because Ethan didn’t wear one either — so her cheek was flush against his warm chest.
“You’ll be fine, kitten. He’s just going to see if you’re into it.”
“I’m not,” Pearl said, trying to keep her voice to a whisper and failing. “Can’t you just tell him that and save everyone the effort?”
“Have you ever tried?” Seth’s rumble sounded
almost amused.
“What, torture? No, I kept putting it off. You know, because of the pain.”
Seth’s chest shook under her. Was he seriously laughing at her? How could he think this was remotely funny?
“There’s something you have to understand about pain, Pearl.” Seth’s thumb began stroking her shoulder through the thick, fur robe. “It’s subjective. Stubbing your toe hurts. Getting a paper cut hurts. Having your ass slapped hurts. But they’re all different kinds of hurt. And sometimes, they’re just another way for your body to feel pleasure.”
Pearl bit the inside of her lip and wriggled against Seth. He was so warm compared with the chill air surrounding her.
Had this been on the contract? Compulsory: weekly attendance at underground whipping ritual.
She highly doubted it.
Behind them, those massive doors shuddered open. Pearl whipped her head around, craning to see over Seth’s shoulder. A tall, lithe figure stepped into the light, scanned the distant, assembled figures, and then strode forward at a brisk walk.
Caden.
Her stomach tightened as the man came closer. For once, he didn’t have a phone in his hand. Candlelight flashed orange over his glasses as he glanced at her. He came to sit in the pew behind them, planting himself directly behind Opal.
Pearl straightened, peering through lashes at the man as he sat forward and rested his arms on the carved backboard behind Opal. He leaned closer, drew back the edge of her hood, and whispered something to her.
Seth’s hand tightened around Pearl’s shoulder, and she glanced back at the man, eyes wide. He shook his head at her, like a father chastising his daughter for gawking at the congregation instead of paying attention to the sermon.
When she shot a last look toward Caden and Opal, the man had his fingers wrapped around her braid, fingertips tracing the weaves in the plait. Murmuring something to her. Murmuring something to her that made her blush and drop her head, a faint, pleased smile on her mouth.
The door opened again. Pearl looked back, her lips pressed to Seth’s deltoid as Tanner strode through the door, that almost-eighteen-year-old girl flush against his side. Pearl jerked, so surprised at seeing that strawberry-blond waif that she made a small sound in the back of her throat.
Seth’s hand brushed her head, and he urged her head down, pressing her against his shoulder so she faced forward. He began stroking her hair, toying with the ends, brushing her neck with his fingertips.
So Pearl relented, relaxing against him as her eyes studied what they could of the room while she tried ignoring the sounds of Tanner taking a seat behind Ethan’s group of foxes.
There was a short wave of whispered conversation which the sound of a mechanism starting up by the dais drowned out.
A rectangular block of marble rose from the center of the dais.
Pearl didn’t even realize she’d grabbed hold of Seth’s thigh until his hand closed over hers, squeezing her fingers together. She sat bolt upright, spine stiff as a rod, and watched the altar ascend.
It wasn’t just a block of marble, of course. The top slab was a foot thick, but the rest had been carved into a stunning, lifelike imitation of an elk, head dipped low as if grazing. The slab rested on the tips of a pair of enormous, branched antlers, the creature’s shoulders, and its flank.
It came to an abrupt halt at waist height, clicking into place.
Dangling from the antlers were a pair of wrist restraints. Another strap spanned the center of the altar. And, attached just beneath the foot of the slab, a pair of ankle restraints dangled down either side of the elk’s flanks.
“Easy, kitten.” Seth’s voice made her start.
She burrowed into him, her heart unfreezing and starting a panicked gallop in her chest. What the hell? What in the name of all that was good in the world was going on here?
Beside her, Gia shifted. She glanced across the girl, shrinking away from Gia’s wide, unfocused eyes. Was she replaying a memory, maybe her first time down here when Jarred punished her for being stoned?
The door opened again. Seth tightened his arm around her shoulder, but she didn’t try and look around this time. She knew who it was; she could almost feel the dangerous, intense aura of the man preceding him as he moved silently closer.
Was it just her imagination, or were the candles dimming?
Would she scream if they suddenly went out?
Fuck, yes.
She’d probably even pee herself a little.
3
Pleasure-Pain
Jarred strode past them, his movements sending a flurry of cool air over Pearl’s robe, ruffling the fur against her throat. He wore a long, black robe, the hood down around his shoulders, the edges flaring as he walked.
He didn’t look at them. Didn’t even seem to notice them.
His eyes were fixed straight ahead to the frozen elk forever fated to bear that spine-crushing burden on its shoulders.
Seth bent to her.
“Down here, you only call him Master,” he whispered in her ear. “He asks you a question, you always say Master. Got it?”
“Yup,” Pearl managed through numb lips.
Jarred reached the altar — it was obvious that was its purpose — and bent down behind it. He retrieved a thin mattress which he slid over the slab.
A hush settled over the two pews of waiting foxes. Even Tanner had grown quiet; he stared at Jarred with a rapt attention that made Pearl’s fingertips tingle. Caden was sitting back, no longer whispering into Opal’s ear, no longer touching her. But as Pearl watched, the girl glanced over her shoulder at the man and gave him a small, warm smile.
Was that why he asked for her almost every evening? Were they an item — like Seth and his wife had been before they tied the knot?
And about Seth and his wife: had it been a garden wedding, down in the middle of the labyrinth? Perhaps they’d even read their vows down here, an ordained minister standing behind that majestic elk as he proclaimed them man and wife.
Pearl heard a whisper of clothing to the right, and snapped out of her ludicrous thoughts with a tiny jolt.
Tina was walking up the steps.
Had Jarred called her? She hadn’t even heard.
The girl’s mousy brown braid shifted from side to side as she climbed the stairs.
The poor sod probably thought this was romantic beyond belief. Like some archaic ritual performed to a nature god ninety-eight percent of the world’s population had never even known existed.
And what if it was?
Pearl’s eyes flashed over the elk, the slab of pale marble, their fur robes. This place felt like a place of worship… and maybe they didn’t worship flesh like in the dungeons. Maybe here, they worshiped something else. Something ancient and ephemeral.
Seth’s hand tightened on her shoulder, snatching her back to reality with a thump.
She crowded into him, mentally willing him to say something reassuring. Willing him to tell her that this was just some elaborate performance, that Jarred needed an audience to perform his magic. And that it wasn’t even magic, just a man using pain to bring pleasure.
But Seth didn’t say anything.
Tina stopped beside the altar, her back to the pews. She glanced to the side, staring with wide eyes at the thinly-padded slab or perhaps at the statue beneath.
Jarred lay his hand on the mattress, wiping it slowly from side to side, his onyx eyes fixed solely on Tina, as if she was the only thing that existed in that moment.
Pearl realized dimly that she was sinking her fingers into Seth’s thigh, but she couldn’t force her grip to release.
Not with Tina looking so dazed. Not with Jarred looking so intent.
When she didn’t move, Jarred walked over to her, grabbed her waist, and hoisted her up to the altar. He did it in a single, fluid motion that didn’t seem to require any effort on his part. As if he’d magicked her up by sheer will of thought.
Tina gasped softly and then shook her head, l
aughing under her breath.
She lay on her back, slipping both hands over her stomach and clutching them together. For a moment, she looked like a rustic version of Sleeping Beauty; with a fur robe instead of a gown, and an altar instead of a bed.
Jarred gave her a brief, mirthless smile, and urged her up again.
Tina looked flustered now, her eyes skittish. She faced the pews as her legs swung over the side of the altar, and her eyes latching briefly onto Pearl.
Don’t do it.
But that silent missive didn’t reach Tina’s brain. The girl lifted a hand and gave Pearl a tiny, hesitant wave.
Dammit.
Seth shifted beside her, and Pearl knew he was frowning down at her. Yes, fine, she’d made a friend. Better them thinking that than she had an accomplice, right?
Pearl kept one hand on Seth’s thigh, the other clutching the hood of her robe against her throat. Tina dropped her hand a second later, glancing behind her at Jarred as the man drew off her robe with his broad, dark hands. Tina shivered, wrapping her arms around her chest and hugging herself.
Jarred took her shoulders and urged her down onto her side. Then he rolled her onto her stomach. His lips moved, and Tina shook her head. Had he said something to her? Another murmur from Jarred, too quiet to reach Pearl’s ears. And then Tina shuffled forward, letting her arms dangle down either side of the elk’s antlers.
The Dom, Fox Pit’s highly-acclaimed switch, fastened Tina’s wrists to the restraints fixed to the elk’s antlers.
Pearl sat up. Seth shifted, tore her hand from his thigh, and sandwiched it between his palms. Had she really been gripping him that hard?
Jarred ran his hands down Tina’s back, the curve of her spine, the rise of her ass, her thighs, her calves. Then he tugged the ankle restraints out from beneath the altar and lashed down her ankles. Tina squirmed a little, as if she was trying to get comfortable. She twisted her head, facing Jarred, her braid falling to the mattress behind her.
