Page 83 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

Vita gaped at the woman, the skirt of her dress barely meeting her mid thigh as sheer fabric floated over her curves. She was sobare, the bust of the dress just covering her breasts, though her shoulders and neck remained exposed.

“Are you ready, dear?”

Vita wasnotready.

Aurora had surprised her, leading her down a hallway she hadn’t explored, through a door with a spiral staircase, taking them down, down, down.

When they emerged into a dimly lit room, she had clutched Aurora’s arm as shock tore through her. She’d expected some sort of dinner party, but clearly her assumption had been wrong.

A feast of another kind was taking place, one marked by flesh and desire.

Aurora laughed as Vita tried to catch her breath, that which had been stolen by the sights in front of her. Moans and groans reverberated through the room, echoing off the high ceilings, and it took a few moments for her to truly understand what she was seeing.

All manner of people, humans, half elves, and elves, engaging in… well, engaging in pleasure.

But not the pleasure that Vita was used to. No, it wasn’t just the exhibitionist nature of the acts that shocked her to her core.

As Aurora led her through the dungeon—no better word for it—lit low with candlelight, she tried to focus on one thing at a time.

One of the High Consul’s thralls fucking a woman from behind as she writhed with delight, hanging from chains that extended to the ceiling. His fangs sunk into her neck, drinking from her as he thrust mercilessly. The woman squealed, twisting as she clung to the chains wrapped around her wrists.

A man was strapped to a large wooden X, one limb securely attached to each arm, another man hitting him with a flail. The restrained man cried out with each impact as a thrall ran her fingers over his hard cock. A devious smile curled the woman’s lips, the man’s stomach tensing with her too-gentle strokes.

A whimpering woman hung from her ankles, legs splayed wide as another woman plunged a smooth, phallic-shaped object into herdripping cunt. As Vita’s mouth watered, the unrestrained woman tilted her head back and sharp fangs appeared. She sank her teeth into the hanging woman’s inner thigh, still unrelenting with the faux phallus.

Ropes and rods restrained, appendages and hooks penetrated. A writhing mass of bodies. Vita’s attention focused as she realized their destination.

Renatus.

He sat on a silver throne, reveling in the debauchery before him. He was dressed simply in his typical attire, elegant white shirt and black pants, his legs crossed. Petran stood behind him, a sly smile on his face as the women approached.

“What do you think of my gathering?” Renatus asked, ruby eyes glimmering with mirth.

Vita tried to calm her ragged breaths, calm the burning in her core at the sight of the wanton acts.

She cleared her throat to speak. “I would expect nothing less from you.”

That earned her a chuckle, which curled her lips into a smile despite her best intentions.

“Come, sit with me, darling.” His lustrous voice washed over her like a caress of silk, doing little to quell the fire. “Unless you’d rather join the others.”

Aurora gave her a gentle nudge, and she stumbled towards the throne. Renatus held out a hand so she could take it, then pulled her onto his lap in a swift movement. An icy finger grazed the bare skin of her thigh, the thin stretch of fabric barely covering her modesty.

Funny, to be concerned with modesty in a place such as this.

Petran moved from behind the throne, taking Aurora’s hand and planting a sweet kiss on the back. She beamed, then led him into the indulgence beyond, quickly getting lost in the crowd.

“You look beautiful,” Renatus whispered in her ear, prickling the sensitive skin on her neck.

Her neck, where just a few evenings ago, he had plunged his fangs into her. Drank from her.

Markedher.

When she turned to face him, there was something in his eyes, something beyond the lust and sarcasm she had become so accustomed to. But it was gone in a flash.

“Thank you,” she murmured, a flush spreading on her face and neck.

“You don’t wish to join the revelry?” He ran his fingers across her thigh, sending chills up her spine.

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