But it is similar to walking out on a circular stage.
A stage with a leather bench, cuffs on both ends and a large wooden X with more restraints at the tops and bottoms. There’s a table filled withtoys;floggers, whips, and paddles.
A single bed rests in the center of the stage.
My arms fold across my chest, and I attempt not to shiver. Before I can investigate further, a bright blinding light focuses on me, but through it, I follow the purple strand. The one I now recognize as Darius’s. They all shine in distinct degrees, pulsate in different ways, and I have slowly adjusted to the fact that they each represent one of the brothers.
Except the fourth.
Before, it had overlapped with Darius and I hadn’t realized it, but now his strand is thinner, dimmer, slower.
“Sunday.” Darius steps into my reach, he is clothed only in a pair of silky boxers. His chest and corded muscles on full display. A microphone around his neck. His sturdy hands find their way to my shoulders. “Do you understand what this is?”
I don’t. Not exactly. But I can guess.
We are half naked on a stage after his father mentioned bidders.
In a room calledThe Play House.
“We’re going to have to give them a performance.” As much as I hate every second of this, of the sound of people surrounding us, the knowledge that we are about to be forced together in a way neither of us deserve.
I am grateful it’s Darius. And not anyone else. Not even Grayson or Axel.
I love each of the brothers equally, but Darius is the gentlest. The most careful.
I know that he will do his best not to hurt me. To make this as manageable as he possibly can.
“Sunday?”
I realize I am so wrapped up in my thoughts I haven’t answered him. “We’re going to have sex,” I say.
“Was Tripp the last–”
I shake my head, cutting him off.
“Axel.” His lips curl in knowing humor. “Of course it was him. He always pushes you to your limits.”
“I initiated it,” I admit.
Darius shrugs, as if this were the most casual conversation in the world and we weren’t literally being watched by what sounds like hundreds of onlookers.
“Welcome ladies and gents to tonight’s performance in The Play House! Your bids have been cast and you have secured these marvelous seats. This show will be a bit different. While we will still direct the parties by popular demand, there will not be any visible injuries to be left behind. This is my son and his future wife, after all. Let’s have fun with it. Once the votes are cast, we will turn their microphones on so that you can be a part of the experience,” Sterling’s voice echoes around us, amplified by speakers. I don’t bother trying to find him, still blinded by the lights.
Future wife?I mouth.
Darius inclines his head, reaching out and gently squeezing my shoulder.
How twisted is it to make your son fuck a woman for sport? Except it was still somehow not even near the top of the evil Sterling has committed.
With the bright spotlight still on us, I can’t make out anyone in the audience. Only Darius.
I hope it stays on.
“If this is your first time, welcome to The Play House! You'll see the screen in front of you with different scenarios. Please choose which one you'd like to see first, this is a democracy after all. If you've been here before, you know the drill. Now cast your votes for the first scenario. Will he be fucking her bare or should we have my son wrap up for this affair? Can never be too careful after all.”
There is jeering and shouting in the crowd as Darius and I lamely stand on the stage.
“This is so fucked up,” I whisper. “Think of all the people forced onto this stage.”
