Page 148 of Chandelier Sin
Unless he’d spoken those words to repel me, to protect me.
I was struck by a fear that we’d never be together like that ever again. That I’d merely pass him in the hallways and we’d both fake having no interest in each other.
An unbearable thought—that he’d never touch me tenderly again or take me hard like he had just a little while ago.
He’d been the best thing that had come into my life.
Craving him was the worst kind of agony.
Pushing thoughts of him far from my mind was for the best.
Another male submissive was escorted into the chamber on the end of a long chain. He stood beside the other one and sank to his knees. I knew this man, had seen him around the club over the years and knew of his ferocious sexual appetite.
Jewel stood, looking proud as her offerings were showcased.
I knew what came next—they’d both be set on each other, like two lubed up gladiators fighting to see which one could overcome the other. The winner would fuck the other up the ass. All for show. All to arouse the onlookers watching this dark and passionate scene.
A hush came over the chamber.
Jewel stepped down from the dais.
Elaborate masks of every description turned in unison to face the other side of the chamber, toward the main doorway.
I heard mumblings of uncertainty at the unusual break in ceremony, hushed whispers rising.
I followed their line of sight—and drew in a sharp breath.
Atticus stood in the doorway, having attracted everyone’s full attention.
Somehow, I’d made it here before him.
His tall, muscular presence filled the doorframe with a dominant stance. He wore a black and red devil’s mask with two red horns—like the one he’d worn the night we’d met.
His eyes were dark and piercing, and his lips were set in a cruel sneer.
And he wasn’t alone.
Before his feet knelt two brunette submissives facing away from him toward the direction of the dais. Atticus had reined them with silver chains that hung from bits between their teeth. Like he was a gladiator, and they were his tamed trophies.
The women raised their masked faces, causing a stir.
They weren’t submissives.
Atticus had mastered both Christi and Priscilla, two of the finest Dominatrices at Pendulum. Two proud women had been brought under his control. Two gorgeous and powerful mistresses who never knelt before anyone.
How?
In the space of a short time, Atticus had managed to have them under his command. An impressive act for anyone.
There came a collective murmuring through the hall at the vision of his profound dominance.
With a flick of a chain, a grand giddy-up from Atticus, they began a steady crawl towards the dais with him directing their pace.
Slow, but sure, it was a striking scene that impressed the crowd with his elaborate display. Guests stepped back, allowing them a space to walk through—the parting of the waves as the miracle unfolded only within a wall of VIPs.
At the front, the two male submissives crawled out of their way.Even they knew to avoid conflict with that intimidating Dom—proving Atticus’ authority.
He continued to theatrically stride in a grand performance of ultimate power.
