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“Two,” I moan as he returns with a flogger, and whips me with the leather on my behind. The sensation builds me up faster to my third orgasm as I yelp, leaning forward onto my bound hands. The arch in my back leaves my shoulders and ass open to his mercy as he whips me with the flogger again and again.
“Three,” I call out, struggling to form words already as I try to pull away, my clit so sensitive from the mixture of pleasure and pain.
“That’s a good girl.” Heathe moves around to my front, where he grips my chin in his hand and forces me to look up at him as I approach the edge of another orgasm, my eyes threatening to roll into the back of my head from sheer pleasure. “Now, come for me again.”
And so I do.
Again, and again, and again, and again, and again.
Until I’m nothing but a whimpering mess of wetness and desire, eager for more.
Chapter Seven: Eve
The Preparations
Moonlight shines in through the windows in silver rays that vaguely illuminate the shape of the scarce furniture that surrounds me where I lay on the bed. After being placed here by Laurence, a team of servants brought me food, some clothes, and some pajamas—none of which were inherently sexual, all very casual in their appearance, and not what I would have expected.
I’ve been busy spinning the ring on my finger in between tracing the embroidery on the comforter, my mind extra fidgety with concern over what was going to happen to me in the wake of my outburst at Ivan. I assumed I would have been disqualified—I nearlywas. Having Laurence save me feels abnormal, and does nothing to reassure me about my state in the games. My precarious position instills nerves in me that I didn’t have prior to my elimination, and with being isolated to this cabin, with no information or assurance that I’m continuing the games and not just becoming this guy’s private sex slave, I’m left with stirring thoughts; all of which only increase my anxiety and discomfort over my current situation.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I rise to my feet, needing to busy myself with a task more encompassing than small fidgeting.
I beg to snoop.
I pull out the drawers of the dresser, finding the clothes that the servants folded neatly and piled in it for me. I barely sift through them until I get bored and move on to the closet. Flipping the switch, the single lightbulb inside fills the space. I find only a few things have been hung up, a couple of elegant dresses I assume are for more Gala’s in the future. Their fabricis soft between my fingers, not quite silk, not quite chiffon, but something very soft and very light, leaving very little to the imagination.
All in blue.
Moving to the bathroom, I rifle through the cabinets, finding them empty. I have yet to be provided with any soap or shampoo for showering, and I wonder if my new advocate is intentional in his cruelty, or just dense.
In my act of snooping I also take some time to appreciate my living quarters. They’re far nicer than the communal ones the Players were assigned. It feels less like a summer camp cabin in the woods for girls to have a topless slumber party only for the masked killer to arrive and slash them to pieces. This makes my time here on the island feel like a vacation, especially with the amenities which more resemble Ivan’s room in the manor. It’s borderline luxurious, if not still a bit rustic, but I can appreciate some character.
Heading for the bedside tables beside the four-poster bed, I pull out the first drawer, finding its contents intriguing. A book slides out with the force of my pull. Picking up the copy of the very worn hardcover ofThe Sun Also Rises, I reminisce on the summer I read a copy I checked out from the library, flooded with memories of long days by the pool as I get a whiff of the old book’s smell, similar to the worse-off copy that I read. The pages are similarly coarse and yellowed.
Plopping down on the bed, I turn to the page containing my favorite quote.“Some dancers formed a circle around Brett and started to dance… they took Bill and me by the arms and put us in the circle… Brett wanted to dance they did not want her to. They wanted her as an image to dance around.”
I remember reading this quote on a particularly hot summer day in L.A. I had to set the book pages down atop my bare, sweat-slick thighs, remembering feeling much like Brett. Thatmen never wanted me to take space as Brett attempted to. They wanted me to remain a vision they could consume, nothing more than an idea. Much like Lady Brett, I felt both her woes and celebrations of being independent.
Turning the page, my eye catches on a line of handwritten words in the margin. In a delicate scrawl, somebody wrote, “How to win the games”. My finger hesitates over the words, as if I can sense who wrote them through the page. Did a past player write this? What did she mean? Did she, too, understandThe Sun Also Rises, and left this as a note for any player after her to follow its lead?
Before I can really ruminate on the correlation betweenThe Sun Also Risesand the games, a knock at the door sounds. Closing the book with a soft thud, I return it to its drawer and slide it shut, padding over to the door.
I hesitate before I open it, knowing that at any point the guards could arrive to take me away again, some angry billionaire deciding my presence on this island goes against their games, but I reach out anyway and slowly open the door.
Laurence stands in the soft glow of the moonlight, the sound of crickets chirping coming in full force with the door open. Neither of us greet each other. His eyes lock with mine before roaming downward to take me in, his gaze moving over me in a way that makes me feel more assessed than sexualized.
He breaks the silence. “I’m glad the clothes fit.”
I look down at the soft pair of matching linen shorts and t-shirt, optimal for keeping me cool in the humid heat of the island, which I’m grateful for. “Thanks for getting them to me,” I say, stepping aside.
He steps in, and his presence immediately fills the space. I’m taken aback by the command with which he fills the room, like this belongs to him, like I belong to him. I’m even moresurprised by how much of an appreciation I have for it, and the deep pull I feel in my core.
“How are the new living arrangements suiting you?”
“Just fine.”
“Just fine,” he repeats in a whisper, looking around the space. “I would rather have you in the manor with me, but due to the rules, players and advocates cannot be together the night before a game.”
“Right…rules,” I add spitefully, heading to the small living area that houses a sofa and two chairs. I sit down on the sofa, bringing my legs up beside me to sprawl out like a model for a painting class, eyeing Laurence. “From my understanding, you’re not much of a stickler for rules.” I raise a brow in question.
