Page 19 of Seth
Though I understand your situation, unfortunately I can’t disclose such information. Gustavo is a private person and leads a closed-up lifestyle, but I’d be happy to send him a thank you card on your behalf, if it suits you.
Best,
Arnold.’
The utterly polite email pissed Seth off.
He was falling into the same circle of hell he’d freed himself from with Justin’s death, where anger and desperation ate him alive. And the more he thought about Gustavo the angrier he became.
He needed to clear his mind. He needed to feel in control, and he knew only one place that was eager to provide all the control he craved—NoLimits.
Changing his clothes, he checked his watch and strolled downstairs to the hidden passage in the basement.
* * *
His darkness rolledunder his skin, shrinking and extending. He stood in the middle of the vast room; black furniture brought a striking resemblance to a torture chamber of the Holy Inquisition. A thick layer of black, matte acoustic foam covered the walls. The minimalistic design wasn’t to please the eye but to instill fright. Not a sound would leak outside of the room. Not a peep could crawl inside. Stuffy and dark, it could have been a perfect chamber for a sadistic psychopath eager to torture his victims as no one beyond the door would hear their screams.
The type of room that required constant supervision of a dungeon master in any other BDSM club only had a set of CCTV cameras in NoLimits. Falling into the bloody fantasy was so easy here as nothing disturbed the mindset of participants. And right now, Seth balanced on the verge of drowning in his own. The shaking body of the powerful submissive hung on the St. Andrew’s cross. Shallow cuts covering his back glinted red, like crystals of corundum1in a rock, beads of sweat shimmering in between.
So pretty…Seth’s vision pulsed, doubled, and glitched, creating a vibrant illusion. He no longer saw a human in front of him but a sculpture, the perfect form of the muscular torso made of black, iridescent glass. Opalescent striae cracked the smooth skin like veins. Blue, golden, violet, and green with speckles of red. So many colors, so many textures.
When the varicolored spots surrounded him, Seth gulped the air realizing that for a moment, he’d forgotten how to breathe.
He cracked the whip; its leather tongue licked the bleeding skin again, making the man on the cross thrash. The sub’s head fell backward, and black curls splayed over his shoulders. His eyes rolled into his head, and short, shaky moans filled the air. Sweat skidded down his body as he audibly gulped.
Seth nodded; this was what pleasure looked like. A myriad of glistening beads, hastened breath, dilated pupils, shaking limbs, parted lips. Seth feasted on the man’s pain and pleasure, absorbing it, feeding on it.
He folded the whip in the middle and ran the loop over the shivering flank; the light touch worked like an electric shock on the overwhelmed body. The man yelped, nails clawing at the cross.
Pain and pleasure had always mesmerized Seth. The twitch of muscles and beading sweat, flush and fever, everything that was normal to everyone else had always been alien to him, hence fascinating. Right now, watching the powerful man dissolve into the hormonal overdrive, Seth basked in the endorphins flooding his system.
He raised the whip in the air again when the unpleasant feeling of being observed touched his nape.
Seth’s head whipped to the side. He blinked, then again for the first time noticing other people in the room. Annoyance sparked in his chest as he squinted at the naked submissive clinging to the spanking horse fifteen feet away from him. Judging by the reddened back and his sweating dom working the rattan cane up and down the pale body, they have been here for at least ten minutes.
The tiny submissive looked familiar, especially his deep-blue, haunting eyes.
Ignaz.Seth remembered his name. The local pain slut, who never denied anyone who promised him pain, had never fallen into Seth’s focus. But right now, something in his greedy gaze captured his attention. The wistful expression on the boy’s face as his eyes bore into the red back of the chained man stirred Seth’s curiosity. Despite the cane painting his body, Ignaz seemed to be more engrossed in Seth’s scene than his own.
The inquisitive stare ruined Seth’s concentration. Watching like this was rude. Trying to ignore him, Seth forced his attention to the red skin in front of him, but the intrusive gaze, like ants, crawled under his clothes. It irritated him and was impossible to shake off.
Before he knew it, his focus once again gravitated to the boy. The blond head rested on top of his folded hands, slender fingers dimpling the leather beneath as his dilated pupils fixed on Seth. Every nerve unsettled, Seth lost control over his wrist, and the whip slashed across the bleeding back and wrapped around the torso of the chained submissive. The man on the cross hurled back, but not a sound leaked out of his throat.
Seth gnashed his teeth then glared at the boy, but Ignaz’s gaze had already abandoned him to feast on the bleeding imprint.
“Enough.” With a neurotic hand, Seth tossed the whip aside, picked up a towel then soaked it in the antiseptic solution before he swathed it around the man’s back. One by one, he carefully uncuffed the shaking limbs, steadied the man on his feet to lead him away from the room and Ignaz’s irritating scrutiny.
* * *
The next daywashed him in perfect calm, as on the Architect Digest’s website he found pictures taken during the presentation. Behind the merry crowd, somehow still in focus, Gustavo propped the wall. Beside him, a man with a vaguely familiar face carried a toothy grin and a stemmed cocktail glass. Seth remembered seeing him before during the party. Younger, shorter, and slimmer than Gustavo, the man had a neatly trimmed goatee, foxy eyes with elongated corners that tilted up, and a thin upper lip.
Realization touched his mind. He didn’t need to look for Gustavo; he only had to follow his people. Eventually, someone would bring him to Gustavo.
Canceling yet another alarm on his smartwatch, Seth turned off his PC and got up. Anger had never gotten him anywhere, so why get mad over things he couldn’t change? What he could control was the future.
* * *
Like heroin calledan addict,adrenaline withdrawal wrenched Gustavo’s veins. He wasn’t sure why he’d become so obsessed with Loco, but he couldn’t throw him out of his head even if he tried. The thrill every contact provided made him feel like any moment could cost him life or freedom, and that thought alone set his blood on fire.
