NINE

RAFFAELE

The drive to Eclipse was a much-needed one after I left Celestia’s room.

I have been far too intrigued and obsessed about this girl than I would naturally allow myself to be. And yet, in the stillness of the car, I thought of her. Of her unmistakable beauty, the lush curves hidden underneath the night suit I felt when I carried her upstairs, and the crimson of her cheeks when she flared. In every archaic sense, Celestia was as exotic and beautiful as her name.

Needing an outlet for the newfound lust I cultivated over the past few hours, I headed to the only place where dark, sinful explorations are nurtured. Inevitably, a good session of dominance would take the sting out of irresistible desires. Or so I thought when my car screeched to a halt before the giant door of Club Eclipse.

It was a place I owned and indulged in when I wasn’t taking care of the empire my father left behind for me.

When I stepped in, the air reeked of sin and sex with the familiar echo of moans and pleasurable screams, tempting enough even for all the Gods of Olympus.

“Sir, your drink.” I eyed the submissive, dressed in a small bustier and intricate chains around her crotch.

The first time I slept with a woman, I enjoyed her screams more than the moans, and I feared the depth of depravity of my soul. I revealed in the way her skin turned crimson under my hand, repeatedly, and wondered if I fell under the category of ‘normal’.

Until BDSM happened to me—until I understood the parameter of consensual pain, safe words, and a wealth of information on bondage, dominance, and edging. Losing control was not an option for a man like me, which was why I only fed my wickedness what it needed to remain tame.

“Scening today, Rafe?” Jay, the co-owner Eclipse and childhood of mine, asked as I looked up from my drink.

“No, man. I need a private dungeon room and an experience submissive for tonight—whoever is up for a little bit of pain.”

“Rough day?” He gave me a knowing smile and turned to watch a caning scene of a male sub.

“Terrible one,” I breathed out.

“In that case, go upstairs.” He patted my knee. “I am sending you someone special.”

God, I fucking hope she is.

Ten minutes into the dim lighting of the modernized dungeon dotted with every debauchery apparatus, I heard a timid knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened to a woman in a long, translucent silk dress with a haltered neck and long golden tresses bunch to her side, cascading past her bosom. Everything, from the way her steps faltered to the evident flush creeping along her twin cheeks, told me that she was far inexperienced I wanted for tonight.

Goddamn it, Jay. I wanted a pain-slut, not a sweet, pliant submissive who’d remind me of Celestia.

I could have sent her away, could have demanded another masochist, but I didn’t. Instead, I ordered her to stand between my legs and assessed her in the silken finery.

“What’s your name?” I asked, focusing on the weight of her generous breasts in my palms.

“Esme, Sir.”

“Pretty name, Esme.” I traced a finger down her forearm, noting the gentle rise of the cloud of goosebumps.

I wondered: how would Celestia feel if I caress her velvet skin the same way? Would she respond as deliciously as his gorgeous blond standing between my legs? Angst clawed at the back of my conscience.

Celestia isn’t a masochist, not even close to a submissive, you retard.

“Turn around,” I ordered Esme unwaveringly.

With a violent tug, the flimsy knot of her halter came apart, and the dress fluttered down to the floor. I whirled her back, brushing her long tresses away from the breasts as I took a nipple into my mouth.

Esme’s moan told me all that I need to know and hear at the moment.

“When did you finish your training, Esme?” I asked, reaching out to grasp the slightly dampened piece of clothing between her legs. A soft, muted whine escaped her. She was absolutely untried and far beyond the dynamic experience of dominance.

“Sir, I…” I gave her clit a hard pinch over the thong, forcing Esme to bit her lower lip to swallow the pain. As it receded, I tore off the fabric for unhindered access.

“I don’t know what you know of my reputation in the club, Esme, but I often take pride in a talent that I honed over the years in BDSM. Do you know what that it?”

“No, sir,” came in the softest whisper.

“I can cane a sub’s pussy, both for extreme pleasure and intense punishment. But would you like to force my hand for punishment so early into the night?” I gave her a flat smile and a determined look to make her understand that every word I said was true to the form.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and shook her head. When I glared, the words came tumbling out. “No. No, sir. Two weeks ago,” she rushed. “I finished the training two weeks ago.”

“Good.” I concentrated on exploring the lush curves, the trimmed triangle-down her belly. The heady sense of control was slowly consuming my mind.

When I lowered on her on knees and spread my legs, all Esme needed was to do was open her mouth and take in the length of my manhood. And she even did, hardening my cock further until my phone began to ring.

“Fuck, fuck!” I gritted and pulled out of her mouth, leaving her clueless.

“I need to get this. Wait.”

It wasn’t the phone I mostly used, but the emergency one, only a few people had access in case of a dire need.

“What?”

“We have a small problem here, Rafe,” Amadeo informed in a seemingly distressed voice. “Celestia has escaped.”

Fuck me.

CELESTIA

The little joy and relief I felt when I managed to run away died down in my throat like a pile of ash when I discovered that the property Raffaele Roselli owned was colossal and almost inescapable. Not only the place was littered with armed men and toiling staffs, but the walls were too high to climb over.

All I could see was the giant gate, guarded against all sides, and the sole way out of this place. It only opened once when a vehicle rushed in and closed off immediately.

Even if I ran with all my strength and vigor within the time frame, they would catch me in a jiffy.

And couching down there, I burned with the knowledge that I would be subjected to a fate worse than hell if Raffaele Roselli or anyone in his employment catches me. So I hid behind a bush in the dark, beside a small storeroom, and waited for the golden chance—my golden opportunity to escape from this hell once and for all.

I guessed that it was probably midnight, and I still had several hours into the dawn to find my way out of this. Inevitably, there would guards swapping places or changing shifts, and I could sneak out in that fleeting moment.

But planning was one thing, accomplishing the impossible task was another.

Except, my own fate betrayed me in the worst possible way.

I watched from afar the commotion breaking out, with armed guards running all over the place. There was no second-guessing that they were looking for me, the runaway captive from the cage, but what frightened the life out of me was the pack of sniffer dogs. At least seven trained labradors were put to use, sniffing the trail from the window I jumped out.

Flight or fight wasn’t the choice left anymore,

It was either flight or die.

And in that defining moment, I chose to flee.

The enormous entrance gate opened, presented to me as an opportunity from the heavens above, and I ran towards it.

A black SUV skidded to a halt, but I didn’t stop—I simply couldn’t. My blood rocketed with adrenaline and instinct made my legs work as fast as possible.

“Turn the fucking car,” someone yelled.

I raced against time and fate, sprinting out of the gate and down the smooth road, but danger chased me like an overhead drone. It only went from bad to worse when gunshots rang out in the air, unbalancing my pace.

As a result, I tripped over, twisted my ankle, and fell flat on my face. Pain radiated like a shard of glass lodged into my body, and the harder I tried to get up, the intense it got.

“Look at that now,” a chilling yet calm voice spoke out. I watched helplessly as Raffaele towered over my fallen body with a wolfish grin. “The pretty little deer is caught once again.”