Page 103 of Chandelier Enthralled
The lighting dimmed as shadows moved in every corner, concealing and then revealing more guests spilling into the grand space.
I heard musical notes on the air, an eerie blend of hollow voices and choral tones like a backdrop to a ceremony. The music wasn’t merely meant to be heard, it was also meant to be felt as a discordant hum.
An aroma seeped underneath the changing room door, and I looked in that direction. I smelled the heady scent of an ancient church, reminding me of frankincense and something else, something forbidden.
On the other side of the room, another door’s handle was being rattled—someone was trying to come inside.
I froze, my heart pounding, afraid they might gain entry. But the person gave up and walked away.
Sighing in relief, I turned around to look through the lens again. With my hands on the wall, I leaned in again to view the grand chamber.
My doppelganger entered, walking behind a cloaked man. A mask covered both their faces. She was being guided in by either Atticus or Greyson. The submissive, who was now wearing my bodice, took elegant strides toward a low stage.
Three chairs were positioned along a dais. One was empty. Seated in the chairs to the left were two figures in black robes, their identities concealed. It was Jewel’s silver-tipped shoes that revealed her presence, along with the gleaming blue lacquer of her masquerade mask.
As the crowd parted, the submissive—representing me—strolled forward with an impressive courage.
Then she paused, and with assistance from her master, she stripped off entirely. Her bodice slipped to the hardwood floor, and—except for the collar and chain—she stood naked before them.
Something I could never have done.
I was watching her complete exposure. To play radically in my fantasy was one thing, but to enact it with an audience was entirely different. Those around her hid their emotions behind their ornate masks.
Oh, God.Everyone was staring at her.
The woman who had obviously been chosen by Greyson to protect me seemed to be savoring every part of this experience. From what they’d mentioned, she’d participated in this kind of session before, so perhaps it wouldn’t shock her like it did me.
I shouldn’t watch, but it was impossible to look away.
She approached the stage and elegantly stepped up, offering a reverent nod as she passed the two figures seated there. Then, she took the chair on the end as though she, too, would be observing the room.
Her eyes widened and she seemed entranced by the cloaked man—likely Greyson. He had joined her on the stage and was now circling her chair.
I had once ventured out on a safari, where I watched the wild, primal dance between predator and prey, and in that moment, I felt as though I were watching the same intoxicating rhythm at play. But on safari, I’d wanted to interfere and save the animal that was threatened. I’d felt powerless, and it had destroyed something inside me.
But this…it was something altogether different. It was like she wanted to be the center of attention.
A low hum emanated, a hypnotic chant from hidden speakers, as though compelling me to keep watching. Safely concealed, I felt a sense of vulnerability wash over me because Greyson might guess I couldn’t resist and was seeing everything.
As the show unfolded, I felt a tingling sensation spread throughout my body, I felt a giddy excitement that caused a wetness between my thighs, making my clit sensitive.
And yet I also felt a mixture of guilt and confusion wash over me.
Please, don’t hurt her.
From out of the crowd, a tall man stepped forward and dropped his cape, revealing his nakedness. Then he sank to his knees and began a steady crawl toward the dais, in seeming slow motion, sensual and perfectly choreographed, he pulled himself up onto the stage and crawled toward my brunette lookalike.
Drawing in a sharp breath, I sensed what was to follow.
The lights dimmed, casting a soft, golden hue over the erotic scene, illuminating the subtle gleam that fell on her.
The man on his knees gave a nod to the woman sitting in the chair, suggesting an unspoken permission, a shared consent, a knowing that pulsed between them, sensually magnetic and enticing.
A quiet murmuring came from the onlookers.
The air around them shimmered with an almost tangible energy, as if each movement created an alluring tension oozing with promise.
The man rested his palms on the brunette’s knees and eased them apart.
