Page 81 of Beneath Scarred Vows
He rubs me for a few seconds, and I feel heat rising, my wetness covering his fingers.
Without warning, he removes his hand, and I open my eyes from the sudden loss of pleasure.
"Actually, I brought you here for a specific reason," he says and looks at me with lustful eyes.
I straighten up and fix my dress. "Well, I'm not sure I'm willing to do anything in front of anyone, with or without a mask."
Ares scoffs. "Katerina. No man will ever see you like that. Only me."
"Oh," I say and lean into him, "and what if that man over there," I nod at some guy speaking with another woman, "tries to hit on me?"
Ares looks at him and then back at me and smiles. "I'd fucking kill him."
"Maybe you should tell me your reason for bringing me then," I say and kiss him. "Have you seen how I look in this dress? I wouldn't want you killing too many men tonight."
Ares reaches around and grabs my hair, pulling it with just the right amount of force and kissing me. "You're right. Let me show you," he says and licks my neck.
29
KATERINA
Ares takes my hand and leads me back out into the main hall. My heart races at the scenes before us—even more explicit than what we'd witnessed earlier. The center of the room now holds what looks like medieval torture devices, but it's clear they're meant for pleasure, not pain.
Well, at least not the unwanted kind.
A woman swings from leather straps suspended from the ceiling, her body arched as a man thrusts into her from behind. Even through her mask, you can see her ecstasy. She's biting her lip to silence her screams as another woman stands beside them, trailing a feather along her skin.
"Jesus," I whisper, unable to look away. The music is louder now and pulses around us.
Ares's grip on my hand tightens. "Are you okay?" His voice is low in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
"Yeah," I say. "It's just, I've never seen anything like this."
He laughs. "I have something better to show you."
We reach a hallway branching off from the main room that's covered with a seductive glow. Doors line both sides, some closed, some with windows, and others partially open.
As we walk, a door to my right swings open. Inside, a woman is bound, her wrists and ankles secured with padded cuffs. A man stands behind her, running something that looks like a small whip across her back. She moans with each touch, her skin flushed pink and red.
Another door reveals a woman straddling what looks like a mechanical bull, except it's shaped differently, more like a saddle, and I'm almost positive something's inside her.
Her head is thrown back, her hair matted to her face, as the machine vibrates beneath her. Two men stand on either side, one holding a flogger, hitting her breasts, the other watching with hungry eyes as he touches himself.
"Some people enjoy being watched," Ares says, his thumb stroking the inside of my wrist. "The thrill of being seen, being desired."
Heat rises to my face as I consider this. Would I ever want that? To be watched, to be the center of attention? The thought makes my stomach flip in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.
We continue down the hallway, passing more doors, more scenes of pleasure and pain intertwined. The sounds—moans, slaps, the buzz of toys—fill my ears, creating a soundtrack of desire that makes my own body respond.
I'm so distracted by what I'm seeing that I almost bump into Ares when he stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway. Unlike the others, this one is solid black with an image of Dionysus drinking wine, surrounded by naked women.
Ares raises his wrist to a small scanner beside the door. The purple band glows under the light, and the door unlocks.
He turns to me, his eyes dark behind his mask. "After you, my beautiful wife."
I hesitate for just a moment before stepping inside. The room is dimly lit like the rest of the club, but it's different—more intimate, more private.
The first thing I notice is my reflection. One side of the room is lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The other sides are deep burgundy.
