Page 32 of Pushed
Chapter Eight
Imperial
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Ididn't want to look. I didn't see want to see anymore of this place. The moans never stopped, the heavy breathing and loud throaty growls continued to plague my thoughts and infiltrate my brain.
I wanted to throw up.
Music began to play, filling the room with strums of a violin and the thick chord of a cello. There was this strange mix of sex and soft classical tones, mingling in my gut and making my heart vibrate with every beat.
“Don't be afraid. . .”His words weren't soothing.
“Remember, things aren't always as they appear.”How would that make me any less anxious about what was coming?
I was taken, bound, forced to hear sounds that weren't right, screams that bled acts of torture, not pleasure.
How can I survive this?
A loud voice echoed overhead, forcing my eyes to open. The stage was lit up bright, twinkling under the single spotlight.
“Welcome, I know you're all ready to get your hands on what we have to offer tonight.” A man in a charcoal black suit and florescent yellow tie threw his hand up in the air, smiling from ear to ear.
The room exploded in deep grunts and hollers as men cheered in every direction. Some jumped to their feet and pumped their arms, others stayed seated, just holding a small paddle and smirking with a grin that was vile.
What the hell is going on? What the fuck is this?
“Yes, yes,” the announcer said, flapping his hands to settle everyone down. “And we'll get to that soon enough. But first, how about a little playtime?” Winking, he stepped to the side and fanned out his arm.
The room fired up again with claps and cheers, yelps and barks. Taking a moment to look around, I let my eyes drift from side to side. I was stunned.
On my right, a man was laying back in his seat with his hand rested on the back of a woman's head, and she was sucking him off. His eyes rolled in his skull as her head bobbed up and down, throating his cock.
To my left, another man had a woman bent over the seat, her ass splayed out for anyone in the room to see. His pants were around his ankles as he stroked himself, while his free hand teased her clit, slipping into her sex and then circling her asshole.
Holy fucking shit. . .
All around me I heard sex, moans, the sounds of bodies as they slapped together unrestrained. I didn't know what to think or what to do.
I wanted to look away, I wanted to cover my eyes and stop watching something that was meant to be private, meant to be done behind closed doors. But I couldn't.
It was like driving by a horrible accident and knowing you shouldn't look, but you do anyway. I was mesmerized, drawn in by the allure and taboo nature of everything I was seeing.
Machi's palm pressed into the center of my back, scratching his fingertips up and down my spine. Tapping me gently on the shoulder, I looked up. His face was blurry at first as my eyes adjusted from the spotlight to the darkness behind me.
His face came into view, his lids heavy as he blinked with a slow nod and tender smile.
You want me to look?
Nodding again, he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
He was telling me it was okay, that looking was allowed now. His eyes were giving me permission to explore, to take it all in, while his touch told me not to be afraid.
A tingle began in my lower belly as I watched the man beside us wrap the woman's hair around his fist and yank her head with a violent snap. Her back arched hard, mouth dropping open wide as she moaned.
She didn't seem to be in pain or fear, she didn't look like she was being forced against her will. . . From what I could see, she was enjoying herself.
The crowd started to cheer again, drawing my attention back to the stage. The man was gone, his presence replaced by a guy in a mask. The single light was now set on the board in the background, illuminating a woman.
