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“You can’t intervene.”
“Why the fuck not?” I hiss.
“Because they will drag it out longer for her if you do. Any interference will only be worse for her.”
“What the actual fuck!” I hiss, glaring at Moxie like she’s the one who made up the sick rules. I know she didn’t, but fuck, this is bad.
“It’s the only fucked up thing about this place. Something like this hasn’t happened in a long time.” Moxie mumbles, and I glare at her. Is she being fucking serious right now? How isn’t she freaking the fuck out?
“You’ve seen this happen before?”
“Once. About four years ago.” Her lips contort into a grimace.
“What did they do to that person?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Fuck. This is bad. Where the fuck is Skipper?
My silent question gets answered the next moment when commotion draws all eyes as four shirtless waiters drag Skipper in, bound to some sort of metal bars and silenced with a similar ball gag to Rhys.
What the actual hell is this fuckery?
I need to do something. But what if Moxie is right? What if my interference makes things worse for Kitten?
Fuck! FUCK!
I don’t like this. Not one bit. Something doesn’t feel right.
Leaning forward, Brock tips Kitten off his shoulder and sits her on the podium, her eyes wide with fear as he attaches the chains Madam Vik had been rigging up from the ceiling to the wrist and ankle cuffs my girl is wearing.
My poor Kitten. She’s shaking her head frantically, her lips trying to move past the ball gag with words she can’t speak. It’s clear that she’s sayingno. Anyone who has half a brain can see the fear in her eyes. Why are they doing this? She clearly hasn’t consented.
“Good evening, everyone.” Master Hill turns to face the mostly naked crowd, his black suit pristine as he stands before his guests. “Now, I can tell by some of your expressions you’re clearly upset to see that tonight’s punishment is to be dealt to our beloved Kitten. I understand,really, I do. We all love and worship her, so it’s hard to accept. However, just remember thatsheputyouall in jeopardy. Your identities could have been exposed had her infraction gained the attention of the authorities.”
What? Authorities? What the fuck is he talking about?
Gasps sweep through the room as most of the Feasters' masked clad faces turn from concern to anger. Is he filling their heads with lies to rile them up and turn against Kitten?
“Since Kitten has a sponsor, he too will be punished.” Master Hill gestures to the back wall where Skipper is being secured by more fucking chains. “His punishment will be to watch.”
The air in the room changes as some of the bystanders get excited by the prospect. This is fucked. So fucked in so many ways!
Master Hill holds up both of his hands. In one hand, he has some sort of egg-shaped object, and in the other is what looks like a remote device.
“For those of you who are worried about our Kitten, fear not. I will ensure she receives some pleasure as well. I’m not a total bastard.”
The Feasters clap as Master Hill chuckles like he’s a fucking good guy. Fucking hell. This is all sorts of screwed up.
Master Hill turns to Kitten and nods to a waiter who pulls a lever on the wall. The chains attached to Kitten go taut, spreading her arms and legs wide. Electricity zaps through the air as the Feasters get riled up, and Brock, the fucking cunt, steps forward with a pair of scissors and cuts the red lace panties off Kitten before doing the same to her red bra.
Fury like I’ve never felt before travels from my head to my toes as I ball my fists, trying to ignore the cheering Feasters. Kitten’s eyes dart around the room frantically, searching for someone to help her. She’s trying to yell, but even if she didn’t have a ball gag in, her voice wouldn’t be heard over the crowd and the music.
Master Hill ignores Kitten’s pleading, and he holds up the egg thing between two fingers so that Skipper and the rest of the crowd can see it before he steps in between Kitten’s spread legs. Skipper goes ape shit, growling and trying to thrash, but his restraints don’t allow him much movement. When I notice Skipper's eyes widen, I dart my attention back to Kitten to see her head shaking frantically as Master Hill lowers his hand, the egg directed towards her entrance.
“Stop!” I yell. I can’t fucking help myself. I know she doesn’t like Master Hill. She hasn’t told me why, but the arsehole freaks her the fuck out, and right now, she’s clearly terrified of him touching her.
“Hey! Shut the fuck up or get out!” Brock hisses from beside Skipper, shooting his finger out aggressively towards me.
