Page 16 of The Player

Hope hesitated for the briefest of moments, glancing at Seth.

“Take it off, sweetheart.” He helped Hope remove the raincoat, revealing a stunning purple brocaded leather corset and matching thong. “Good girl. She looks exceptionally beautiful tonight, don’t you think, Gwendolyn?” He handed the raincoat to Gwendolyn.

“I do, indeed,” Gwendolyn answered, as her eyes gleamed with approval as she took in Hope’s attire—the tight corset that accentuated her curves, the barely-there thong that left nothing to the imagination, and the impossibly high stilettos that made Hope’s legs look endless. She turned back to Seth. “Do you prefer Sir or Master?”

“Master.”

“You’ve brought quite the treasure with you tonight, Master Seth. I fear you will be the envy of all the other gentlemen in attendance tonight.”

Seth’s jaw tightened slightly, but he forced a smile. “She’s more than a treasure,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge of possessiveness. “She’s my everything.”

Gwendolyn arched a brow, clearly amused by his response. “Indeed. Follow me, please.”

The doorway led them into a small vestibule, and from there, a long, steep flight of stairs descended into the depths below. Seth stopped them at the top of the stairs.

“Hope, remove your shoes. I don’t want you to break one of your stilettos or your ankle.”

She shot him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Master,” she said, handing them to Gwendolyn as though she were nothing more than the coat check lady.

The walls around them were ancient, their surfaces worn smooth by the passage of time. The narrow stairwell was dimly lit by low-wattage bulbs encased in rusted metal cages, casting flickering shadows that danced along the crumbling brick. The air grew cooler as they descended, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something darker, more primal.

They walked down the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls, the space narrowing around them. The staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling down into the heart of the city, and with each step, Seth could feel the weight of the world above them pressing down, the history of the place wrapping around him like a shroud.

Finally, they reached the bottom, and the space opened up before them. They were standing in what had once been an old, abandoned tube or subway tunnel, its curved walls and arched ceiling unmistakably reminiscent of the London Underground. The tunnel had been transformed into a sprawling underground club; a hidden world far removed from the surface above.

The lighting was dim, the only illumination coming from strategically placed sconces along the walls and clusters of candles that cast a warm, flickering glow over the space. The walls were lined with aged brick, their surfaces pockmarked and stained with the passage of time, and the ceiling was a vaulted expanse of wrought iron and riveted steel beams, a relic of a bygone era.

Directly across from the staircase, along the back wall, was a long bar and lounge area. The bar itself was a sleek, polished expanse of dark wood, its surface gleaming under the soft light of vintage pendant lamps. Behind the bar, rows of glass shelves held an array of bottles, each filled with amber, crimson, and emerald liquids, their labels obscured by the shadows. The bartender, a tall, muscular man with tattoos snaking up his arms, moved with practiced ease, pouring drinks for the patrons who lounged on the plush, leather-upholstered sofas with velvet floor pillows strewn close by.

The Citadel was filled with people, a mix of elegantly dressed men and women, some in formal attire, others in various stages of undress, their clothes—or lack thereof—hinting at the activities they engaged in. There was an electric tension in the air, a current of power and desire that set Seth’s nerves on edge.

The tunnel had been divided into different sections, each one offering a unique experience. To the right of the bar was the main staging area—a raised platform draped in deep red velvet, surrounded by low couches and chairs where the audience could sit and watch the scenes unfold. Various pieces of equipment were arranged around the platform—crosses, benches, and other implements designed for the more daring displays of dominance and submission.

Beyond the main area, smaller, more intimate spaces had been carved out of the tunnel’s walls, their entrances hidden behind heavy doors. These alcoves offered privacy for those who wished to engage in their pleasures away from prying eyes, though the faint sounds of moans and gasps could still be heard, carried on the cool air that circulated through the tunnel.

Seth kept Hope close, his hand resting possessively on her lower back as Gwendolyn led them through the club. The further they walked, the deeper they were drawn into this underground world, where the line between fantasy and reality blurred, and the rules of society no longer applied.

They stopped in front of a familiar face—Basil Hargrove. The man was lounging on a deep red chaise, a glass of whiskey in one hand, his eyes glittering with interest as he took in their arrival. He was dressed in a black, tailored suit, his tie loosened, giving him an air of casual dominance. His smile was warm, but there was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he looked at Hope.

“Ah, Seth, Hope,” Basil greeted them, rising to his feet and extending a hand to Seth. “So glad you could join us this evening. I trust Gwendolyn has taken good care of you?”

“She’s been wonderful,” Seth replied, shaking Basil’s hand firmly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Basil’s gaze shifted to Hope, lingering on her for a moment before he turned back to Seth. “You’ve brought a most delightful companion. I must say, Hope, you’re even more stunning than I remembered.”

Hope smiled politely, though Seth could feel the tension in her body spike at Basil’s attention. “You’re too kind, Master Basil,” she replied, her voice steady.

“What a good girl. So polite,” he said, his smile widening as he gestured for them to sit.

“Oh, she has her moments,” said Seth.

Hawthorne nodded. “Yes, the more spirited ones do, but they’re so much more fun, don’t you think?”

Seth took his seat opposite Basil, tossing one of the pillows between his feet and helping Hope to take her place between his legs. The intimacy of the setting forced them to sit close together. Gwendolyn disappeared into the shadows, leaving them alone with Basil, who was clearly enjoying the power dynamic he believed he controlled.

“I must say, I’ve been looking forward to seeing how the two of you… interact,” Basil said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “There’s something quite intriguing about the chemistry between you.”

Seth smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re just two people who know what we want, Basil. And we make sure we get it.”

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