Page 214 of Enthrall Shadows
A wave of relief hit me, the tension leaving my shoulders.
Blinking through my alcohol-laced vision, I could see the woman clearer. Her breasts were a little smaller than Lotte’s, but other than that her figure was strikingly similar.
Taking in the guests, I realized there were a lot of dominatrixes dressed the same.
“I need to find Lotte,” I told Shay.
He caught the chain of a submissive and leaned in to ask her something.
Taking advantage of his distraction, I set my glass down on a passing tray.
Strolling casually toward de Sade and his wife, I ignored the two submissives at his feet who were still fervently showering him with oral praise.
I “accidently” bumped into de Sade’s shoulder, my hand resting on his lapel for a beat. “Sorry.”
“Watch where you’re going,” he snapped.
“Easy to be distracted,” I said. “You okay?”
He checked me out one more time before his attention fell to the angels on their knees before him.
I tucked his VIP pin into my jacket pocket and made my way back to Shay. “Did you find out where she is?”
“What did you say to de Sade?”
“Lotte?” I got his focus back on finding her.
Shay gave a nod. “Abernathy Suite.”
He didn’t expand on that, but merely led me out of the ballroom.
The place was busier, the music louder, the mood carried on a wave of laughter. The journey to get to Lotte felt as long as eternity, both of us striding fast past partygoers.
This place had a Cirque du Soleil vibe—the erotic edition.
When I glanced through a doorway to our left, I noted men wearing cloaks and masquerade masks, and within their circle knelt a lone submissive.
I shot a glare at Shay.
It made me wonder what act I’d catch my girlfriend in.
I braced myself for when that moment hit.
Shay knocked on a door.
No answer.
I turned the door handle and walked in.
The lighting dimmed to a golden hue, the fog from outside pouring into the room, painting a picture of glamour and luxury and lavish decadence. Velvet drapes. Plush furniture. A burgundy chaise lounge. A classy boudoir for elite submissives.
A remarkable vision played out in the center of the room.
Fifty or so submissives had lined up, their hands held obediently behind their backs, posing like they were being inspected.
Walking before them was a seductive dominatrix with short, raven hair, elegantly dressed in an ornately embroidered bodice, delicate thong, high-top stockings and heeled boots.
She stopped in her tracks. “Gentlemen, this room is out of bounds.”
