Page 53 of Moonlit Thorns

It’s the night of the club, and I sit in one of the rooms, waiting for Asher to come get me. I was wearing a robe earlier as we made our way through the house to the private entrance. I’d been unconscious the last time he brought me through it, and it felt a little like walking through a cave after we reached the bottom of the stairs—like a tunnel dug out of earth with the odd sconce on the wall to light the way.

My heart beats so fast that I hear it in my ears. My stomach refuses to stop flipping around like an acrobat. Still, I’ve never been more sure that I want something.

I want adventure. I want to experience some of the things I’ve read in my books. Since that night with Asher in the maze, I’ve felt a constant yearning to repeat it, to do more, and this is my opportunity. I’m just nervous about the other people watching, judging.

Pushing those thoughts from my head, I pace the room.

Asher brought what I was to wear tonight to my room earlier this evening. It’s not even that revealing. I’m wearing a leather bustier that doesn’t really show anything other than an insane amount of cleavage and a leather thong, along with black leather boots that go up over my knees. He instructed me to leave my hair down and put on no makeup except for my red lipstick.

I feel sexy and powerful in this outfit. Like I can do this.

Wait, no. Not like I can do this—I am doing this.

Immediately after Asher told me to think about it, I knew I wanted to do this. I’d regret it forever if I didn’t take this experience. When would I ever get another chance? And to be with a man like Asher… I’ll never get another chance at that.

I just have to make sure I don’t do something stupid and fall for him.

The door creeps open behind me, and I spin around to find Asher. He comes in with no shirt on and leather pants that fit him perfectly. They aren’t tight, but as he moves toward me, the leather showcases the strength in his thighs and the bulge in his pants.

On his face is a gold mask made to look like a bear, with two fangs protruding from the bottom of it. I see his deep blue eyes take me in.

“Are you ready?” His voice is low and sterner than I’ve heard it over the past few weeks since I made the decision to be here tonight. Maybe this is Dominant Asher.

“I am.” I nod and let my hands fall to my sides from where I was fidgeting with them.

“You remember our safe word?” he asks.

We discussed it on the way through the manor earlier. When Asher asked me what I wanted it to be, his horse’s name was the first thing that came to mind for some reason.

“Poe.”

He nods. “Out there, you will only address me as sir. When I ask you something, every response you give me will end in sir. Understood?”

I can’t tell behind his mask, but I have a feeling that if he weren’t wearing it, I would see him arch one of his dark eyebrows as he does so often. “Understood.”

He stares at me for a moment. The only sound in the room is the music that’s pumping in here from the main room. A sexy, thrumming beat that winds its way around my body like a set of vines.

“Last chance to back out,” he says.

“I’m not backing out, Asher. Let’s go.” I step around him and walk to the door—no easy feat in these boots.

He swings the door open and turns to look at me over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

I step into the hallway behind him and follow him to the main room. As soon as everyone’s gazes meet mine, the nerves set in. I’m so exposed. I might not have my nipples or my pussy on display, but the fact that everyone else wears masks and I’m the only one not wearing one makes me self-conscious.

They aren’t in robes like the last time I saw them. Now they’re dressed for the theme in leather and lace. Some women are already topless and have others in their vicinity playing with their breasts. They don’t seem to mind—or notice for that matter. All their attention is on me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other until we reach the dais at one end, on which stands a St. Andrew’s Cross. I’ve read enough books to know what it is—a giant X with cuffs on the four ends for hands and feet. Beside it sits a table with a bunch of instruments on it—blindfolds, whips, crops, paddles, a ball gag. You name it, and it’s here.

Asher helps me up onto the dais as I swallow hard.

I thought there might be some kind of speech or ceremony or something that had to happen before we begin, but as soon as I’m on the dais, Asher takes my hand and leads me to the large X. It’s padded and covered in black vinyl-type fabric—for easy clean up, I guess. A blinking red dot in the corner of the room draws my eye, and I realize it’s probably a camera. When I look over to the opposite corner, I see another.

Asher lifts my right arm and sets about doing up the restraint around it. My heart beats wildly, at odds with the steady, rolling cadence of the music. He puts the restraint on my left hand, then crouches behind me, dragging my left leg to the side and wrapping the restraint around it before repeating the action on my right leg.

I don’t dare look behind me because I’m now fully aware that though I wear a thong, my ass is on display to the entire room. And I have to wonder if that’s exactly why Asher has me facing this way, to spare me having to look at everyone.

As he stands from his crouch, he lets his hands slide up the backs of my thighs until they reach the globes of my ass, which he squeezes then spreads apart. Suddenly the cold metal of his mask is there, and I jerk in my restraints.

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