4. His Lena

The corridor opened into a vast space that made Alex's pulse kick up. Dimly lit, the air thick with sandalwood, leather, and the unmistakable musk of arousal. His guide's fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him forward as his eyes adjusted.

The scene unfolded before him like something from a fever dream.

A woman was sprawled across a velvet chaise, her wrists bound above her head with silk ropes, her back arched as another woman—masked in black lace—traced a feather along the inside of her thigh. The bound woman gasped, her hips jerking upward, begging for more.

Nearby, a man knelt between a woman’s legs, his tongue working in slow strokes while onlookers murmured approval. Another couple was pressed against a mirrored wall, the man’s hand fisted in the woman’s hair as she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He swallowed hard. His cock twitched from the sheer rawness of it all.

"My God," Alex breathed.

The woman beside him chuckled, her thumb brushing his knuckles. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"A sex club," he muttered, though that didn't begin to cover it. This wasn't some seedy backroom. It was decadent, the kind of place where fantasies were crafted with care.

She leaned in, lips grazing his ear. "Not a sex club, not a dungeon. Calling it that is limiting." Her voice was a purr. "This is Zentharis. Just Zentharis. A place for those who crave more than simple fucks."

His gaze flicked to a man tied to a St. Andrew’s cross, his chest heaving as a woman in a latex dress dragged a flogger down his spine. He groaned, his cock straining against his leather pants.

"And what exactly is more?" He asked, though he already knew. The air hummed with it. The thrill of control, of surrender.

She didn't answer his questions. Instead, she tugged him deeper into the lounge, past voyeuristic crowds, toward a section partitioned by heavy velvet curtains. The energy here was darker, more intimate, the lighting casting long shadows over scenes playing out in semi-private alcoves.

Then Alex saw her.

A woman in a black corset that hugged her waist perfectly, hips encased in leather panties that left little to the imagination. A mask obscured her face, but her posture was confident, commanding, drawing his eye immediately.

She stood over a bound woman, her fingers tangled in the bound's hair as she guided the other’s mouth onto her thigh.

Alex's breath hitched.

The corseted woman’s free hand trailed down her own body, her nails scraping over the leather between her legs before she pressed two fingers against the bound woman’s lips.

"Open," she ordered.

The bound woman obeyed, her tongue darting out to lick the offered fingers. A shudder ran through Alex. His cock was iron now, straining against his slacks.

He could feel the corseted woman smirk even through the mask, and then she slid those glistening fingers into the bound's mouth, fucking her throat in shallow thrusts. The bound woman gagged, her eyes watering, but she didn’t pull away. She took it.

A groan tore from his throat before he could stop it. It was so sexy and delightful to watch.

The corseted woman withdrew her fingers, then traced her nails down the bound woman’s chest, over her stomach, before dipping beneath the waistband of her panties. She whimpered, her hips lifting off the bench.

"She's something, isn't she?" his guide murmured.

Alex's throat had gone completely dry.

"She's been with us over a year," the woman continued. "Learned quickly. Though she's selective."

Alex dragged his gaze away long enough to glance at her. "Selective how?"

"She only plays with women." A slight frown. "Most of the regulars would kill for a night with her. One even offered a hundred grand under the table." She paused. "But she has rules. Very specific rules."

"Like what?"

"Like no touching unless she says so. Like only playing with women she trusts completely."

Alex's eyes snapped back to the corseted woman as she pulled her hand free of the bound's panties, leaving her panting and unfulfilled. She brought the slick fingers to her own lips, tasting the other woman before leaning down to kiss her possessively.

Fuck. Such raw sexiness.

He imagined his Lena like this. Bound for his cock. Starving for cock. Wrecked by his cock.

His head spinned. He could almost taste her, feel the heat of her cunt clenching around him, her nails digging into my skin as he-

"Have you ever been to a place like this?"

The voice snapped him back. He blinked, realizing his mouth had been open for too long.

"No," he admitted roughly.

She hummed, her thumb tracing circles on the inside of his wrist. "So do you like it?"

Yes. Fuck, yes he did.

But he didn’t say that. Instead, he watched as the small crowd around them erupted in appreciative applause. The corseted woman bowed her head slightly, then reached up to unhook her mask.

Alex's breath stopped when the mask fell away.

'What?' No way he just watched his Lena, sweet, innocent Lena, do all that to a girl.

Her dark hair was swept up, lips parted and glistening. She looked edible—flushed, powerful, her brown eyes scanning the crowd with a smirk that promised sin.

Then her gaze landed on him, and she froze.