Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 15: The Viewing Tower

"Enjoy the show." The blonde's flirty gaze bounces between me and Damon. "It should be a good one."

"The show?" I ask in a hushed tone as Damon regrips my hands, leading me through the lounge toward another guard situated at the far end of the room. "I'm so confused."

"Patience, Miss Jones," Damon says, handing the card to the guard who pockets it. He punches in a code on the door, a mechanical huff of air released as it creaks open. Damon cranes his neck, amusement brimming from his eyes as he asks, "Ready?"

The second we step through the threshold, an overpowering balmy scent of sex and debauchery permeates the air. Overlapping moans, some soft, some rough, float into my ears, the erotic pants immediately causing my heart to race and my core to clench.

"Welcome to Club Hades, Miss Jones," Damon rasps as I take in my surroundings.

Plush, blood-red carpet softens our footsteps as we stride down the rococo-inspired halls, intricate crown molding shading the ceilings, rustic sconces with flickering candles the only source of light. The ruby walls guide us down a labyrinth of sin and sensuality, the whimpering breaths of euphoria getting louder as we turn the corner.

"These are The Playrooms," Damon explains as we enter a long hallway, eight separate rooms book ending the dark path.

I swallow, heart racing with wonder and winding excitement as we slowly stroll past the double-paned glass walls. Some curtains are drawn closed, and no sounds escape, but I know that something filthy is happening mere inches away from me. Silently, I detach from Damon's hold and float towards a room where the curtain is drawn open, the sliding door open but a fraction.

Like a twisted anthropologist studying a remote and distant tribe, I stop in front of Playroom Five. A part of me feels uncomfortable like I shouldn't be here, watching, gawking, examining their ritual. But the curtain is open. It's an invitation. My mouth dries as I watch the young woman on the bed, her limbs tied with thick rope to the posts. A man straddles her, his erect cock resting atop her unkempt bush. In his hand, a candle burns bright, a puddle of hot wax pooling on the surface. The woman struggles against the restraints, her lust-filled eyes locked on the man's as she begs.

"Please, Master..."

Heat rushes to my core, and I can feel my panties dampen as he grins down at her, tilting the candle, the wax slowly dripping into the valley between her heaving breasts. I can't look away.

"Temperature play," Damon explains, hovering behind me as he wraps his arm around my waist. His hushed words tickle the slope of my neck, a spider-like shiver crawling down my spine as I lean into his touch. "Do you like what you see, mami?"

"Mhmm..." I hum, overwhelmed by the sight of it all. My skin burns under my jacket as heat flows through my body.

Damon releases a dark, growling chuckle under his breath, grazing the side of my head with his stubble, "Of course you do, my dirty little slut."

My breath hitches, but I don't say a word. What is there to say? It's like I'm in a dream. An illusion showing me all the wicked things I wish I could experience. But I don't need to wish. Not anymore.

"Let's keep going," Damon says, turning us down back down the hall toward a symphony of overlapping primal groans and provocative pants. My body vibrates, literally shaking my limbs from pure exhilaration as an open space full of dozens of licentious bodies comes into view. "This is The Playground."

My eyes widen as a carnal jungle appears before me. My gaze darts to all corners of the room, unable to focus, unable to concentrate. On the couch, a black-haired goddess grips the shoulders of a man whose cock thrusts in and out of her pussy, another man filling her ass, the slaps rippling her skin.