The Devil's Playthings (15 page)

Several young women entered the ro
om carrying
yards and
yards of soft green cloth. The
women
remained eerily silent as
they led her to her bedroom where Rosa waited. T
hey deftly removed her clothing
, with Rosa supervising
.

One started
the shower, and the other led Emma
into it. They bathed her, washing her hair and conditioning it. They dried her carefully, their hands wrapped in thick cotton towels lingering over her sensitive areas. She gasped a little, and closed her eyes. She’d never been attracted to a woman, and she’d never thought ab
out being with one, but L
uc’s
sexual energy
echoed throughout the apartment, and
filled the air.

The women wrapped her hair up in a towel, and they each filled their hands with lotion. The anticipation she felt, watching their hands move toward her body, smelling his s
c
ent in the room, on her skin, and in the lotion, was too much for her. She felt her nipples harden even before they touched her. She closed her eyes again as one allowed a giggle to escape. She knew they could see her reaction, and they enjoyed it.

One of the
women knelt to the floor to rub lotion over her
legs and feet, and E
mma
felt
the other woman’s
cheek against her thigh. Then she felt
an
other woman’s tongue against the back of her neck as her hands rubbed
lotion over
E
mma’s
back. E
mma
groaned, and visibly shivered. The woman on
her knees let her hands move up
to E
mma
’s inner thighs, while the other woman trailed around her ribcage to her breasts.

“Enough,” she moaned, and the women stopped immediately. She could see the smug looks on their faces, though, as if they knew they had affected her and it was a huge accomplishment. Then one grabbed her brush, and the othe
r
her hair dryer.
Her long blonde hair cascaded in curls over her shoulders from a high
ponytail. They even applied her makeup
like experts.
Then they dressed her in the soft green fabric.

The dress was moss green velvet, with a square neckline and
light green
sleeves of sheer
P
aj silk that almost didn’t feel
real. It looked like a dress from the
Middle Ages
,
with an under dress of the same light green silk that left nothing to the imagination. Platinum rope crisscrossed down the bodice and tied just at the waist.

Just at the top of the arm of the dress, where the sheer material met the velvet, Rosa placed the platinum cuffs around each bicep, and another set right below her elbow. At her wrists were the platinum chains with the rings, also
a set adorned
her ankles.

Around her neck the platinum necklace that matched the crown, and hanging just below it
the braided chain with the ring, and around her throat the huge diamond choker.
When the women were finished they dispersed quickly, and Rosa led her from her bedroom to the entryway, almost as she did the first day she spent there.

Luc waited for her in the entryway, dressed in severe black. His ha
ir was styled softly around
his handsome face, making his
blood red eyes
stand out even more. He knelt when he saw her, causing her to blush. But her head stayed high, her shoulders back, as she stared down her nose at him. “And now you take this haughty tone with me
?
T
hat I have strived for months to show you. And on this day, it is a natural thing to you. You are born for this.”

She couldn’t admit it was simple fear of doing the wrong thing that caused her to do nothing. But if he wanted her to act this way, this is how she would act.
“You are beautiful,” he gasped after gazing at her for several moments.

“So are you,” she answered back. For the
third
time since meeting him, she felt compelled to touch him as she reached out and gra
bbed a handful of his dark hair
. She heard a low growl deep within him, and she would have sworn a tiger hid in the room somewhere. She jumped back, afraid she’d been too bold. He shook his head as his eyes met hers, suddenly as black as coal, and guided her hand back to his hair.

“Please, Emma, this body is for you,” he said as he took the nape of her neck in his other hand, pulling her closer and kissing her until she felt she would be consumed by him. He seemed shorter, even with her heels, because she did not have to tip her head up to kiss him. They met as equals. “This body is solely for your pleasure.”

The memory of four
sets of
hands on her body earlier, along with his appearance, his kiss, and his scent engulfing her, took over her body. She leaned into his kiss, one hand still grasping his hair, the other moved to his shoulders. She felt her knees weaken, and she felt moisture between her legs. Another ferocious growl escaped him, and he tipped his head back and stood silent for several moments, not even breathing.

“Enough, for now,” he whispered as he led her to the elevator.
It was 5:30 pm when they left the apartment. Rosa wrapped her in the green velvet
fur lined
cloak that matched the dress perfectly. She felt
like
nothing less than a Celtic princess.
She almost expected a horse and carriage to be waiting for her downstairs.

“The horses would go mad,” he told her. What did wait was a stretch limo, complete with a wet bar. He opened a bottle of champagne, allowing her to finish off most of it in the car.
“I want you to remember something,” he said with sincerity. “Whatever happens I want you to trust me, and remember I will never hurt you.”

The sun had long set by the time they arrived at the abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The building was huge, the grounds around it vast and empty. An electric fence surrounded t
he property, betraying its abandoned
appearance. The gate opened automatically, and they drove right up to the entrance.
T
he car park was full of expensive cars,
which belied the emptiness of the warehouse
.

“Kiss me Emma, before we go inside. Once we’re in, I want you to observe only. Don’t interact with anyone. Don’t speak to anyone. Tonight you are the
ir
Queen, the
ir
Goddess.” She nodded, and he kissed her roughly as if every emotion he’d ever experienced was inside that kiss. “Remember, I want you to lose your inhibitions, and just feel the night.”

Suddenly she felt her heart pounding. She didn’t know why he needed to say these things, why he felt the need to give her a pep talk. And then the door opened. The doorman saw him and bowed his head. She wondered if he knew who he was, or if he did this with everyone who entered. She didn’t have to wonder long, because the expansive open area was packed full of human flesh, in different states of dress and undress, and each of them bowed to him.
Perhaps we see not what we want to see, but what he wants us to see
, she thought to herself.

Although they all lowered their eyes as he passed, some still peeked up to take a look at her. And they remained in that position, heads bowed, until they passed. He was correct again, they were royalty.

The grimy warehouse was the perfect backdrop for the ceremony, with black silk covering the floor and the windows, and black wrought iron
candelabra as tall as her with black ca
ndles surrounding the perimeter. A stage about three feet high sat in the middle of the room, covered in the same black silk. Candelabras surrounde
d the ten foot square stage.

In the center of
the stage could have been nothing other than a rectangular stone altar. And on the corners of the stone altar were four thin silver ropes with hooks on the ends. She glanced down at the bracelet on her right wrist, with the small ring, and suddenly knew what the rope was for.

Although the warehouse seemed completely open, it looked to be divided into sections with long black silk fabric hanging from the rafters. Emma saw in one section a banquet had been set, and some people were eating and drinking. It was, after all, an ancient festival, which in itself
connoted
feast. There were men and women, totally nude, serving the food. She wasn’t sure how hygienic that could be.

Another section seemed to be the entertainment. A sad
o-masochist fantasy come true. T
here were machines and tools from St. Andrew’s cross, to cages, posts, and benches for kneeling and bending. Several young men and women were bound to them, and Emma could hear whips cracking and laughter.

Another section seemed to be for socializing. She saw men and women of all ages, some dressed in tuxedos or suits and ties, some dressed in garb fit only for a Mardi Gras parade. There were more nude, nubile servants filling wine glasses with Christal and Dom Perignion. Many people wore masks, but most didn’t, and she recognized several faces in the crowd; politicians, businessmen, even some actors and singers.

And in a corner, presumably in the east end of the gigantic space, sat two ornate thrones in gold veneer and red velvet. He led her that way, through the sea of people that parted for him. He motioned for her to sit at the smaller throne to the right, which she did.

He remained standing, but didn’t let go of
her hand
. All knelt now, facing him, repeating “Master,” over and over, until it became a crescendo. He seemed to feed off it, gaining power, head back, arms spread wide, until he made a motion with his right hand and all became silent.

After making a sweeping first inspection of the room, her eyes swept back to Luc. As she did she saw nearly a thousand silent people,
down
on one knee in front of them. “As you were,” he instructed as he seated himself at the throne beside her, and the people returned to their food and their mingling. More alcohol was brought to her, and she drank. She kept the cloak over her face,
and her hand remained in his
.
He held her tightly, as if afraid she would run away or someone would try to steal her.

House music began to play loudly, a low thumping bass echoed off the walls, a sexual pulsing beat. He sat quietly observing, and she did the same as he instructed her. Outwardly, to the casual observer, he seemed to have forgotten her, he didn’t speak, didn’t even look to her. But she felt the occasional
pressure on her hand
that reminded her he knew she sat beside him.

And then people began to approach him, kneeling before him and asking him for favors. In return they offered their services, their riches, and their souls. He would touch their foreheads, all of them, and he would accept what they offered him, but only he would decide whether it was enough to earn them what they desired.

She enjoyed watching everything, but soon she became hungry. She stared at the food longingly, but he shook his head. Only he knew what was to happen later, and she assumed she would not want to be full of food.

The wine flowed, and the eating, drinking, and dancing turned to kissing and touching. The next thing she knew the pulsating music started the bodies pulsating, and soon people were having sex.
What else would happen at a Satanic ritual
, she mocked herself. Sex surrounded her. One prominent married couple she recognized were watching each other with members of the same sex. And she watched as one married female politician took several men at once.

After
about an hour
he rose again
, and everyone
stopped what they did to kneel before him
. He
motioned toward her
and she stood as well. Everyone in the room
remained on one knee as
he took her hand and led her to the stage. Not shy at all, perhaps from the alcohol, she pushed the hood of the cloak back.
Her head was high, her hair bounced around her straight shoulders.
The gasp rippled around the room
.
A
big black velvet box
awaited her
on the altar, and he opened it, took the crown, and lowered it to her head.

“This woman is now your Queen,” his voice boomed throughout the huge building. “She will be worshiped and glorified as you worship and glorify me. As you revere me, you revere her.” The aloofness remained in her appearance, her back pin straight
as
she
gazed
down
at them all.