Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(68)

Another man came on stage, this one dressed more normally in jeans and a white turtleneck. His submissive strutted on stage, completely different from the childlike deference of the first girl. She was deeply tan with long blond hair falling over the thin straps of a formfitting black dress. She cocked a hip, elbow out, and tossed her hair over one shoulder. The man laughed, chin high, then rubbed the stubble on his jaw as if trying to decide how to manage his charge.

The audience had visibly relaxed, and the tone of this pair was completely different from the first. The girl walked in a tight circle around him, as if appraising his appeal. He grabbed her and twisted her in front of him, but still held her in the same pose as the first man had held the first girl, hand on the belly and holding her chin. Maybe it was some element of the ritual. The first girl was innocent and had to be taught. This one was to be tamed.

He kissed her deeply, his hand moving to clamp a breast. When the woman relaxed, he moved to a tender stroke of the back of his hand along her arm, just grazing a nipple with his thumb.

The tension in the room grew and Syria felt it within herself. He was about to strike, like a lion coiled unseen to his prey.

They stayed in that position another moment, then the man grabbed the straps of her dress and jerked it down in one swift movement.

Syria inhaled so sharply that a few of the men turned around. She covered her mouth. She couldn’t get thrown out before Mia’s turn.

Like the first man, this one worked swiftly, but the differences were monumental. He blindfolded his girl and used a spreader bar to maker her knees go wide. His touch was much more sexual, lingering on her popped-out breasts and sliding through her folds. His touch on his submissive made Syria writhe in her seat, much hotter and wondering if she touched herself, if anyone would notice. She longed for her coat to place in her lap.

The men were impassive, smoking or sipping drinks, but otherwise seemingly unmoved. Syria didn’t know how they weren’t going crazy. Maybe they saw this all the time.

The girl spun slowly in a lying position, anchor ropes at her head, shoulders, waist, and thighs. The spreader bar made it easy to see the glistening sex as it passed by. Now the man lit red candles and held her still, heating the soles of her feet until she flinched. He dripped red wax along her legs, across her belly, and dribbled it on her breasts. The room grew more tense, the men shifting in their seats, and Syria saw they were not as unaffected as they had first appeared.

The man bowed and then his part was over. The woman was not released, but shifted to the side, still in her suspension. Two boys tugged additional hooks along the pipe. Apparently there would be more than one girl bound now.

A third man came out on stage, bowed, and led a figure encased completely in black onto the stage. She had no face or hands or any visible feature, but the shiny fabric clung to her like an outer layer of skin. This man did not caress or comfort his submissive, but quickly bound her body in neon yellow ropes. As he worked on her, the Madam came out on stage. Syria held her breath as the woman bowed in her brilliant blue kimono, then stepped aside as Kana led Mia onto the stage in her gold robe.

She seemed so small and vulnerable up there. The man with the black figure finished his work, suspending the girl high above the stage and setting her into a slow rotation.

Mia glanced at her, then turned back to the Madam, who nodded at her. Mia slowly bent backward, the slippery robe cascading along her form as her hands reached the floor behind her. Madam knelt, tying a quick bind around one ankle.

Mia walked her hands closer to her feet with a contortionist’s practiced ease until she was tight in a circle, the robe flowing along her body. Madam tied the bound ankle to Mia’s wrist and tugged on the fabric until it covered Mia’s face to form a loop. She was no longer a woman, but a circle of gold.

Then men straightened in their chairs, leaning in as they watched. Syria surged with pride for her friend, creating something so beautiful and challenging.

Now Madam untied the gold robe and jerked it free, letting the shimmering fabric flutter the ground. The tension grew again as the men took in Mia’s body in its tight circle, her breasts floating near the floor, her hips high. Madam swiftly created a sturdy corselet around Mia’s waist, distributing her weight across several loops. With only two simple areas of binding, she attached the ropes to the metal loop and raised Mia up.

The men pressed forward in their seats. Now that Mia was aloft in her tight ring, Madam pressed her further, taking the free leg and tying it up and away from the other. Syria slid to the edge of her chair, anxious, worried that Mia might be in pain. Her face showed only calmness, but a small tremor in her arm did not go unnoticed by Madam. She adjusted a cinch and pressed her hands along Mia’s body, much like she had during their lesson. Mia relaxed into her position, a near perfect ring of skin, one leg gracefully outstretched. Madam took the free arm and stretched it out to balance the form.