Page 1 of Bared Betrayal
Prologue
KALLIE
Present
From the secondI set foot in this club, the world outside these walls no longer exists. Time doesn’t exist.
I’ve heard of this place but never thought I’d one day stroll across its white marble floors in search of something to placate my deviances.
Myth. The name alone is a paradox. This place merely exists to bring the dark to light and light to the dark. Many people think the actual existence of this place is a myth, and now I know it’s far from it. A club owned by the Dark Sovereign, and ruled by sin, frequented only by the most elite. I still don’t know how I managed to get here, but right now, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m here, a clear sign of the heights my desperation has reached.
The sweet scent of seduction lingers in the air, desire clinging to the darkness. My body shivers as it caresses my skin with gentle strokes, breathing hot flames that ignite my senses. It’s in my veins, liquid excitement coursing through my blood, growing stronger and wilder as it lures me closer.
The air around me is charged with my palpable anticipation, and I’m surprised I’m not nervous. This isn’t something I ever thought I’d do, but here I am, a thrilling excitement licking down my spine.
Sex. It’s everywhere. It’s on everyone’s minds. It’s the only reason anyone would attend these midnight affairs masked, anonymous, and starved for ecstasy. I adjust my mask, running my fingers along the ribbon ties, the feel of the satin against my fingertips smooth and soft. My white lace mask with shimmering rhinestones stands out in a sea of black and dark shades of burgundy. I have no idea why I chose white or wore an ivory dress that seems to lure all the lights to its pearlescent sheen.Maybe subconsciously, I chose it because I want my inexperience to be seen through a sea of burgundy, yet I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Or maybe I do. I don’t know. At this moment, I don’t feel like I know anything.
I’m not sure how many of us there are. Ten. Twenty. But the click of our heels on the marble can’t smother the confident steps of the woman leading us through the foyer. Her black stilettos accentuate her calves, her perfect hourglass shape emphasized by her black pencil skirt and skin-tight lace bodysuit highlighting the rounds of her breasts.
I wish I were more like her. That I had her elegance. Even the sound of her heels on the tile commands respect and submission. She only has to use her tone and body language to show who she is, her status and her authority in this club. She’s explaining the rules as we walk, but my mind is mostly static, catching only a few sentences here and there.
“No names and no personal information will be exchanged.”
“You do not choose. They choose you.”
“If you are unhappy with the one who chose you, you are free to leave. But if you do, you will never be allowed to attend again.”
“Most importantly, once you walk out of here tonight, you will live like this place does not exist.”
She opens the large floor-to-ceiling double doors, and we walk inside a dimly lit room. The paneled walls are a velvet red, and a French empire chandelier with black crystals dangles above a round mahogany table. The tabletop is pristinely polished, smooth and glossy, with the delicate smell of roses wafting in the air.
The door closes behind us, and I jolt, my pulse racing at a thousand beats per second. My lungs feel too small for my breaths, and it’s a wonder I don’t faint from the myriad of emotions zinging through my body.
A grand double staircase with delicate black iron leads to a second floor. The entire scene before me screams wealth and decadent elegance.
Our hostess faces us, her dark hair pinned in an elegant updo. She stands there for a moment, her gaze pausing on us for a fraction of a second. The tension in the room is palpable, my skin hyperaware of everyone’s presence.
Her forest green eyes narrow, her hips slanted to the side, and she finally speaks. “You’ve all signed the non-disclosure agreements, completed the necessary paperwork, but this is the part where you ask yourselves if you can surrender completely. If not, do us all a favor and walk out that door right now. This is not a place for doubts or insecurities. Shame or embarrassment. If you can’t trust the process, then you need to leave.”
There is nothing but utter silence from the group. I’m not even sure if anyone’s breathing at this point. I know I’m not.
A door opens in the far corner of the room. Men dressed in black suits and masks walk in, their presence heavy and felt all the way to my bones. There’s a heated pull of anticipation inside my stomach, my palms sweaty, and the back of my neck pearled with perspiration. The rules clearly state that every woman should wear her hair up and neatly tied. There’s no hiding the slight wetness across my skin with my blonde locks swept back.
Movement at the top of the stairs catches my eye. Two men and a woman in a bright red dress stand against the railing, gazing down at us like they’re shepherds of a flock, the kings and queen of an empire.
“As I said before, you do not choose your Elite. The Elite chooses you,” the hostess continues. “There are six Elites here tonight, and as there are so many of you, some of you will not get to go up those stairs tonight, depending on if you get chosen or not.”
My gaze keeps drifting back to the woman and two men, one man in particular. His hands grip the banister before him, his frame large and shoulders broad. Our eyes meet, and for a fraction of a second, neither of us looks away. My skin prickles with awareness, and I hold my breath while resisting the urge to squirm as our gazes remain locked.
Six men are standing around the table, which means he’s not one of them. Who is he? Moreover, who am I to want a complete stranger to notice me? My skin tingles with wanting and not having. He won’t be choosing a girl tonight from his position of dominance at the top of the stairs. A pang of disappointment whirls through my veins, and I wonder why he’s here if not to take part.
Will he just…watch?
The hostess continues to speak, but I don’t hear a word she’s saying until the woman next to me steps out front and makes her way to the table. Her burgundy dress flows around her ankles, her brown hair braided and pinned in a perfect bun.
With bated breath, I watch as she gets onto the tabletop, lying back and spreading her arms out next to her, her knees bent and pulled up. Just like the rest of us, she’s not wearing any panties, one of the rules set out for us. There’s a fleeting moment when my cheeks burn with embarrassment, a shyness creeping up my neck and leaving flushed skin in its wake.
I bite the inside of my cheek as the first Elite steps up, leans down, and yanks her knees apart before diving between her thighs. Her moans weave through the chandelier’s crystals above her as he licks her cunt. Her fingers claw at the table’s edges as she shifts restlessly, and I find myself out of breath as my core starts to throb. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen, and Iam so transfixed I forget I’m in a room filled with strangers.
