บททั้งหมดของ Midnight Love: บทที่ 341 - บทที่ 350

The opera house felt different the next night — heavier, more intimate. Only a single spotlight illuminated the grand piano at center stage, the rest of the theater swallowed in velvet darkness. I arrived wearing nothing but a long black coat, exactly as Victor had instructed.He waited beside the piano, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking every inch the mysterious maestro. In his hands was a long strip of black silk.“Tonight we perform Christine’s part from *The Phantom of the Opera*,” he said, voice low and commanding. “The scene where she is drawn to the Phantom in the darkness. You will be blindfolded. You will sing while I take you on the piano. The music and the blindfold will strip away your control. Your voice must carry through the pleasure.”My pulse raced. “Blindfolded… on the piano?”“Exactly.” He stepped close and tied the silk scarf over my eyes, plunging me into complete darkness. The world narrowed to sound, touch, and the scent of old wood an

The theater was pitch black except for one sharp spotlight on the center of the stage. I stood there alone at midnight, heart pounding, wearing only a sheer black slip that barely reached mid-thigh. Victor had left the costume for me with a single note: “Tonight you become the Queen. Sing her famous aria. Survive the test.”Victor emerged from the wings carrying coils of soft black velvet stage ropes and a sleek silver vibrator. His eyes burned with dark anticipation as he approached.“Tonight we perform the Queen of the Night’s aria from The Magic Flute,” he said, voice low and commanding. “Those high notes are notoriously difficult. You will be bound and edged while you sing. Every time you falter or fail to hit the note cleanly, the vibrator stops. Succeed, and I reward you. Fail, and I punish you. The theater wants to hear you fight for every note.”He circled me slowly, then began binding me with the velvet ropes. He tied my wrists together above my head and secured them to a st

The velvet curtains rose at midnight to thunderous applause from the masked audience. I stood center stage in a breathtaking crimson gown that clung to every curve, the fabric shimmering under the spotlights. This was the premiere of Victor’s specially composed erotic opera — a story of a shy muse who finds her voice through forbidden passion.Victor stood beside me as my leading man, dressed in elegant black, his gray eyes locked on mine with raw intensity. The orchestra began the swelling overture.The performance built slowly through the acts. I sang with a freedom I had never known before — my voice rich, powerful, and unashamed. Victor’s presence grounded me, his touches during the duets growing bolder as the story demanded.Then came the final act. The climax scene.The lights dimmed to a single golden spotlight on the grand bed-like platform at the center of the stage. The audience leaned forward in hushed anticipation, believing the scene was masterful theatrical illusion.

I told myself I wouldn’t go back.Three days after that first night at the masquerade, I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom, adjusting the emerald velvet gown I’d worn before. Marcus was downstairs in his study, working late as usual. He had kissed my cheek politely before disappearing — the same distant, proper husband who barely looked at me anymore.But every time I closed my eyes, I felt his hands on my hips, heard his low growl calling me a “greedy little slut,” felt him filling me so deep I could still sense the ghost of his cum inside me.I needed more.So I slipped out after he left for another “business meeting,” drove to the mansion, and let the masked attendant take my coat. Tonight I wore the same emerald gown, the same velvet mask with black feathers. My heart pounded as I stepped into the glittering ballroom.The masquerade was in full swing. Couples danced under crystal chandeliers while others disappeared into shadowed corners or private rooms. I scanned the c

The fifth masquerade felt different.I no longer slipped in nervously. I walked through the grand doors with my head high, emerald velvet gown hugging my curves, black-feather mask firmly in place. My body already hummed with anticipation. Four nights of secret sin had changed me. The proper wife who once blushed at her husband’s polite kisses now craved the filthy version of him that only emerged behind the silver wolf mask.Marcus found me within minutes, as he always did.His hand slid around my waist possessively, pulling me against his hard body. “Velvet bird,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You’re becoming impossible to stay away from.”I smiled behind my mask and pressed my ass back against him subtly. “Then don’t stay away.”We danced first — slow, sensual movements that let his hands roam. His fingers traced the slit of my gown, teasing bare thigh, reminding me I wore nothing underneath. The familiar heat built quickly between my legs.Then the game shifted.