Page 116 of Enthrall Ecstasy
My reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed my conflicted emotions—I silently pleaded with myself to trust in Shay, to let him guide me in this fantasy.
I can do it.
My imagination played out what going up to that table would feel like or even look like, lifting my hem and saying those words, offering a stranger the kind of act that was forbidden, as though I was driven by an unseen force.
Yes, I was vulnerable, yet at the same time I felt nudged toward the sexual freedom I craved. But when it came to carrying out my master’s order, I hesitated.
Even as I doubted myself, I reached into my purse and removed my lipstick, gliding the makeup over my mouth, pouting my lips and plumping them; wanting to look pretty for the one I would offer myself to.
Was I brave enough?
Daring enough?
I was certainly horny enough.
The Ben Wa balls inside me felt divine.
How could those men not respond with shock? How could I not be shunned and shouted out of the restaurant?
Shay was right. It all came down to trust.
Wait.
He’d driven me here blindfolded. What was the reason? So I wouldn’t see the entrance?
It wasn’t like I hadn’t just been reckless.
I had literally walked to the other side of the restaurant and climbed under another couple’s table. Not one person had looked my way in surprise. In fact, perhaps that couple had responded with approval because they had been in on the fantasy.
Or was something else going on?
There was only one way to find out if this whole thing had been staged. It sure as hell looked that way.
I felt ready to face the erotic danger I craved—face the risk that could see me fall into the center of a scandal as I played out an erotic fantasy here at Imperial.
Perhaps the name was a dead giveaway.
Enthrall always put their submissives first. Protected them and worshipped them.
Always.
Maybe this was my initiation ceremony.
It wasn’t like I’d not demanded this—threatening to throw that collector’s item into the pool like I was having a tantrum.
Carrying out Shay’s order would decide my future, decide whether or not I was good enough to be part of his elite circle.
I was about to put that theory to the test.
I checked my appearance one final time in the mirror to make sure I was no longer disheveled from that under-the-table adventure.
My body tingled all over, feeling fully alive.
I left the bathroom and made a beeline for the table where the four men were sitting.
My breathing was rapid and my pulse was racing.
The one with the tattooed right hand was classically handsome, but looked like a gangster. He studied me intently, emanating a presence that would make anyone intrigued but scared.
