Page 54 of Twisted Truths

“You’re going to be amazing. I have no doubt.”

He takes my hand, and we leave my bedroom. He leads me through the house, out of the east wing. I get a little turned around, but eventually we end up in front of a carved wooden door.

Obsidian removes a skeleton key from the pocket of his pants and unlocks the door, swinging it open. On the other side is a set of stone stairs that lead down. The entire thing looks as if it’s been carved from the earth. Old sconces flicker on one side, but I can’t see all the way down to the bottom.

Setting aside my unease, I start down the steps. I trust Obsidian, and though it’s absolutely creepy as heck down here, my steps don’t slow. When we’re close to the bottom, the thrumming of music comes from somewhere. By the time we reach the last step, sensual music fills the space.

We’re at the end of a long hallway interspersed with closed doors. I can see people mingling at the end in what appears to be the main room.

Obsidian takes my hand again and wastes no time leading me down the hallway. As we draw closer, people seem to notice our arrival. The hum of conversation underlying the music dies down, then stops entirely when we step into the opening that leads to a huge room with a domed ceiling made from stone.

It’s filled with people in costumes that suit the theme. They’re all wearing masks, either black, red, or white, except… I notice a few gold masks. When I see the one with the bear on it, I realize that must be Asher. At least I assume so, given that he has that bear tattoo on his hand.

Until this moment, I didn’t give much thought to the fact that Obsidian’s brothers and their partners would be here. Will it be embarrassing as hell if I come upon them in the manor after this?

I push aside my worry. Now isn’t the time for it.

Obsidian seems to wait for a beat, then a path forms in the crowd, and he leads me down it.

I feel exposed with my bare back, wearing just the necklaces. Exposed, but my nipples pebble from the sensation of all their eyes roaming my skin.

When the crowd parts all the way to the stairs at the side of the dais, I get my first look at what’s waiting for me. It’s a massage table. It’s not until I step onto the stage that I realize there’s a hole in the table at about waist length. I realize then what it is.

It’s a milking table.

Heat blooms between my thighs. Somehow Obsidian knows, because he looks at me with a smirk before he turns to address the room.

“In true Mardi Gras fashion, I feel it’s only right that Ariana offers you her beads before the show begins.” He gestures for me to take a spot at his side at the edge of the dais. “Anyone who’d like a necklace is welcome to come grab one.”

I suck in a breath and watch as a man wearing a red mask steps forward. I’m not sure what to expect. Will he touch me or just take the necklace? Obsidian and I haven’t discussed anything like that.

He approaches, and I watch his gaze dip and take in my body. The heat from his eyes causes fire to blossom between my legs. He removes one of the necklaces from over my head. I bend forward to make it easier for him, exposing my breasts to anyone at my sides.

Next a woman approaches, and she looks as interested as the man is. I’m not into women, but her obvious appreciation for my body churns something between my thighs.

I stand at the edge of the dais and bend my head every time someone approaches. It feels like an unraveling, an unwrapping. How Obsidian knew I would need something gradual like this to ease me in, I have no idea. But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. That man has been attuned to my needs since the moment he first put his hand under my dress in his car. With the weight of each necklace that disappears from around my neck, it feels as if I’m shedding some of my trepidation.

Finally, Obsidian takes the last two necklaces, pulling them over his own head until they rest on his chest. I stand topless in front of a room full of strangers, yet I’ve never felt more confident. Especially when I see pride, adoration, and lust in Obsidian’s eyes.

“Undress me.” His voice reverberates over the music, and I step forward.

First, I undo the jacket and slide it over his shoulders until it falls to the floor behind him. Next, I get on my haunches and help him out of his shoes, setting them aside. I settle on my knees and undo his belt buckle, then the button on his pants. My nipples are hard points as I undo the zipper and see he’s wearing no underwear. Using my hands, I maneuver the pants over the globes of his muscled ass until they pool at his ankles. Then I set them aside with his shoes, stand, and wait for my next instructions.

My breaths come in short, shallow spurts as Obsidian trails his hand down his body until his hand wraps around his thick cock.

“Do you know what that is?” He nods toward the table.

“A milking table.”

A small smile tilts his lips. “Do you know what to do if I go lie on it?”

I nod. “Yes.” My voice is needy. The idea of pleasing him in that way in front of all of these people, of having them witness the connection between us… I’m eager.

“Good.”

He steps forward and threads a hand through the hair at the side of my head. For a moment, I think he might lean in and kiss me. Instead, he brings his forehead down to meet mine and breathes me in before turning to lie on the table.

It’s the first really good look I’ve gotten of the circular scars dotting his back. I’ve felt them plenty in the throes of passion, but never had an unobstructed view. My chest squeezes painfully because it’s obvious this is something that was inflicted upon him, and I can only imagine the horror of having to live with visible scars of torture.

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