Page 89 of Gamble
“Thank you,” Reagan said, struck by the genuine warmth in his greeting. “Everyone’s been so welcoming.”
“That’s because we’re all invested in the boss’s happiness,” Marcus replied with a knowing grin. “And it’s obvious you make him very happy.”
Glancing sideways at the grinning Elijah, she had to agree that he did look happy.
As they moved deeper into the club, Elijah paused to let her observe various scenes. Near a raised platform, a woman in elaborate latex was being worked over with a heavy wooden paddle by her dominant partner, the sound of impact echoing through the space. The artistry of it, the careful attention to the submissive’s responses, fascinated Reagan more than it shocked her.
A few feet away, they stopped to watch a beautiful Shibari scene—intricate rope work that turned a woman’s body into living art while her partner manipulated the bonds to create pleasure and sensation. She’d read about the trust required, the intimate communication between the participants. Witnessing it in person was breathtaking.
“What do you think?” Elijah asked softly, his breath warm against her ear.
“It’s beautiful,” Reagan replied honestly. “I never realized how much artistry was involved.”
“The best dominants are artists,” he agreed. “They use their submissive’s body as a canvas, their responses as paint.”
The poetry in his words sent heat spiraling through her core. She was beginning to understand that this wasn’t just about sex or pain—it was about connection, trust, and the exquisite vulnerability of surrender and trust.
She was thrilled that Elijah let them linger at that scene until they were able to witness the dominant use his mouth on his sub’s restrained and exposed pussy. Her screams of ecstasy as she succumbed to her Dom’s tongue went straight to Reagan’s core. It might be the hottest scene she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have the dungeon master himself replicate that same scene with her.
Am I ready to be on display like this?
Maybe one day, but she sure as hell wasn’t ready tonight.
Elijah was already guiding her up a few steps. Once on the new level, Reagan found herself in a dimly lit hallway bathed in neon and black light. The atmosphere was distinctly different here than on the open floor. It was more intimate and secretive, reminiscent of Amsterdam’s famous red-light district.
Behind the wall of glass they’d stopped in front of, a beautiful naked woman performed for a small audience. Her movements were graceful and sensual; her nudity presented as art rather than exploitation. The voyeurs watching her were respectful, appreciative of her sensuous performance.
Moving deeper into the dark hallway they passed several glory holes where anonymous encounters were taking place—a man standing close to the wall had his cock pressed through an opening and was receiving pleasure from an unseen partner on the other side of a wall. Next to h him, a submissive woman was on her knees servicing a stranger’s cock throughanother opening. The raw sexuality of it should have shocked Reagan, but instead she found herself fascinated by the pure, uncomplicated nature of the sex.
“How are you feeling?” Elijah asked, his voice low and intimate despite the public setting. “What do you think about what you’re seeing?”
Reagan considered the question carefully. “I’m surprised by how safe it all feels. Everyone seems to be looking out for each other.”
“That’s the most important thing,” Elijah confirmed. “Safe, sane, and consensual. Everything else is just details.”
As they continued down the hallway, they passed a large open door with a large sign reading “COSTUMES.” Members were lined up to see a colorful looking guy working inside. As they passed the line, several of the waiting members spotted Elijah and called out enthusiastic welcomes, clearly delighted to see him back.
At the deadend, they turned right into another long corridor, and Reagan realized this was where the private rooms Nalani had talked about were located. She hadn’t made it back this far the first time she was here, but she remembered hoping that if she were ever to make it back to Black Light that Elijah would help her get used to being at the club more privately back here before asking her to play on the main floor.
Now that her return day had come, she prayed he would be leading her into a private room, if not to introduce her to a BDSM scene, then to at least fuck her long and hard because she could feel the wetness from between her legs soaking the gusset of her skimpy panties.
Damn, I don’t remember ever being this horny.
She tried to focus on the tour in an effort to relieve the building need in her pussy. Four huge picture windows lined the left wall, each looking into a unique space, allowing voyeursin the hallway to watch the scenes playing out inside. One of the windows was covered by blinds, offering privacy to the occupants, while the other rooms were open for display.
“There he is!” A voice called out, and Reagan tore her gaze away from the in-progess punishment scene to instead see a handsome younger man approaching with a huge grin. “Boss! We weren’t expecting you until?—”
“I know, I know,” Elijah interrupted with a laugh. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
The employee’s attention shifted to Reagan, and before she could even say hello, he’d swept her up in a bear hug, pulling her out of Elijah’s grip and spinning her around enthusiastically as she squeaked with surprise.
“And you must be the famous Reagan!” the younger man said. “I’m Tyler, Elijah’s second-in-command and all-around pain in his ass.”
Behind her, Reagan felt hands gripping her hips, trying to pull her out of the in-progress hug.
“Tyler,” Elijah’s voice carried a warning note, but when she looked over her shoulder at Elijah he was smiling. “Put my woman down before you hurt her.”
“Your woman?” Tyler grinned as he finally set Reagan back on her feet. “Oh, we’re making declarations now, are we?”
