Page 72 of Hunt for You

When I came to the door just before five, David and a couple other guys were there. One of the other men had a clipboard, and as each person approached the door, we were assigned a seat.

Like some kind of fucked up movie-theater.

There were only fifteen people there, each of them handing over a piece of paper before they were given their tickets.

Then the doors were opened and we filed in—some whispering quietly with others, everyone looking at their tickets, which were just plain, blank pieces of white paper with a seat number printed on it.

I was the last one through the door, and I leaned close to David.

“What’s the paper they’re all handing over?” I whispered to him as he found my ticket and ripped it off. I didn’t havewhatever the others did and I was worried this was going to be Ronald’s ploy to win the little scuffle over my access.

But David just winked. “Legal waivers,” he said with a small smile. “Sid says he’s not going to touch you, so you don’t need one.”

I frowned, but took the ticket David handed me and walked into that little hallway.

I’d been given seat eighteen.

I frowned harder when I read that, because there were only fifteen people here. But I followed the others without a word and walked in, found my seat—in the center of the back row—and waited.

What unfolded in the thirty minutes following that moment was possibly the most fucked up, mind-boggling thing I’d ever seen. For reasons I couldn’t even articulate.

Ronald, the man who called himself Sid Vicious,The Conductor,wasn’t just a Dom. Though the room had several more furniture pieces in it now that made it look less like a stage and more like a den, along with chests and satin-finished wooden boxes that were obviously filled with his newly-sterilized toys.

Still, there was nothing earthshattering—I’d seenfarmore intimidating pieces in some of the other dens in the past.

But my skepticism was short lived. Because it turned out, Ronald was a mentalist.

He spent the first ten minutes of this little pageant hypnotising everyone except me… or something. I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the first three rows of this room were full of people who, one by one, were placed in some kind of trance.

And then he had started talking. Asking questions. And smiling a lot.

Like he’d fed them all some kind of truth serum, these people each answered his very delving, very personal questions.

Secrets. Secrets within secrets.

Fears.

Hidden fantasies, hidden desires, hidden fetishes.

They all came out. And as each person spilled their darkest thoughts and fears, Ronald made notes on a clipboard just like the one the Protectors at the door had used.

At first I just gaped—was this some kind of therapy disguised as a Dom session?

But then he’d been through the fourteen other people in the rows ahead of me, and he lifted his eyes to meet mine as he put the clipboard down.

He must have caught the question in my eyes.

“Don’t worry, Bridget,” he said with a sly smile. “Today you get to just watch. But I want to see what you think at the end, and if you ever decide to come back and participate, as I said,I’m in.”

I was so stunned I didn’t even answer, just stared at him as he leaned over a woman in her forties from the first row, gently tipped up her chin and made her meet his eyes.

“Are you ready, Penny? Do you want to try?”

Penny nodded, quick and jerky, like she was both nervous and excited. And as Ronald took her hand and drew her out of the chair and began to work his… whatever this was, I saw why.

Now, fifteen minutes later, she was on all fours, staring up at Ronald like he’d hung the sun in the sky. She crawled towards him slowly—afraid of his rejection. Because he’d warned her it might happen. Not like an asshole. But like… like he wastaking careof her.

His eyesblazedwith a heated kind of satisfaction. He hadn’t even touched her except when he helped her out of the seat. Yet, she was now naked, her breathing short and shallow, and she’d admitted that she’d cheated on her husband several times, and was now considering divorce.

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