Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

Zed leads me through groomed tropical gardens with paths meandering through buildings and courtyards, some of which I'm sure Karen pointed out when I arrived but have no memory of. The island gives the appearance of any resort, if traditional resort life consists of dicks and tits as far as the eye can see.

Everywhere I look, there's so much flesh! How does anyone get used to this? Clothing is optional for Masters and Mavens, with most Acolytes parading around in the buff.

Novices are the easiest to spot. Always naked. Often in the company of a higher rank. I'm temporarily off the hook in the naked department since I'm a newbie, but apparently, that's all going to come to a screeching halt this evening. My hand makes a fist in the fabric of my dress, as if holding onto it will keep my squire from slipping it off later.

We come around a bend, and my feet root themselves on the path so quickly my body lurches forward. Holy. Shit.

A dozen Novices are displayed in a circular courtyard, each restrained with the most salaciously creative instruments I've ever seen. Not that I'd seen any before arriving on the island.

Arms hang from hooks, stretching bodies so the individual must balance on their toes, a satin gag distorting their mouth. Others are bent over, wrists bound to ankles, and everything exposed to the elements in a way that accentuates their vulnerability. There are some who straddle what looks like an erotic mechanical bull, their arms pinned behind them with lined cuffs while their bodies rock against the leather, trying to find a release that'll never come. Literally.

"The Garden of Punishments," Zed tells me.

"Punishments?" My mind races with the implications. With my mouth and defiant attitude, I'll be strung up in this erotic torture garden every fucking day.

"It's exquisite, isn't it?"

That is not the word I would use. The word I'd use would probably land my ass with the rest of them.

"Novices must embrace the role of submissive. Those who rebel find themselves in varying degrees of punishment." He strolls into the garden, hands loosely clasped behind his back as he makes his way toward a man bound to a device that looks like a demented version of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. A nervous giggle escapes my lips. Horrified, I slap my hand over my mouth, but it's too late. A female squire removes herself from her post beside a woman straining fruitlessly on the hideous imitation of a mechanical bull.

She smiles, teeth flashing against her dusky skin. "Eden," she says, and I'm taken aback by the fact she knows who I am, which is ludicrous because tens of thousands of people could be watching my antics online at any moment. I'm famous now. Oh, joy.

"I see Marcus caught your attention. Would you like to take a closer look?"

My eyes dart to the man. His body is displayed to hide nothing, especially his jutting erection. "Um. No. That's okay. I was just looking."

"Oh, I insist." She takes my elbow, and I balk, planting my feet on the ground. Her eyebrows rise, and alarm bells go off in my head at the same time Damn-the-Consequences joins the party. The woman tugs a little harder but is so petite compared to me it's laughable. So I do. Clicking her tongue in disapproval, she sweeps her leg, knocking me off my feet. I should've seen that coming.

If I had a moment to consider how a hundred-pound nothing can defy gravity and stop the momentum of my not-hundred-pound something, I might be impressed. As it is, Damn-the-Consequences is in rare form as I'm painlessly wrestled to the ground. I hurl a string of profanity at the petite squire that would've made George Carlin proud.

When I stop to take a breath, I hear Zed sigh loudly. I ignore his mutters and stare into the face of the smirking female squire, trying to buck her off, but she turns into a Jujitsu master and plants her paltry weight in the center of my chest, pinning me.

My squire pats Marcus' shaft, making the man groan in misery, and walks toward me, stopping to crouch at my side. "This is why we can't have nice things."

I scowl.

He shakes his head. "Eden, meet Nina. "

Nina springs up, dips her chin to me, then looks at Zed. "You've got a rebellious one. The Masters must love her. How many tokens did she get last night?"

"Plenty."

She smiles broadly. "Let the games begin!" Nina saunters away, stopping to say something to Marcus, who moans behind a silken gag, before resuming her post among the Novices.

Zed helps me up. "Do I need to bind you?"

I shake my head, trapping the insults Damn-the-Consequences lets loose behind my clenched teeth.

We leave the Garden of Punishments, making our way to a large white building with a huge veranda. "I really should bind you, but I relish the opportunity to do so publicly, should the rebel show her face again."

"I'll be good."

"That's a shame." Zed laughs at the face I make and motions for me to enter the grand structure.

Fans with blades shaped like huge palmetto leaves spin slowly from the ceiling. Like the lobby of the main building, murals depicting lascivious scenes cover the walls—all tastefully done, if you collect the works of Michelangelo's pervy cousin, Frangelangelo.

Dining tables set with white linens, crystal glasses, and polished silverware fill the room. Interspersed among them are solid white pedestals, some with poles and hooks. I stare at these, wondering which one Zed will stake me to.

Zed follows my gaze. "Oh, you may end up on one of those. If you do, it will be your own doing."

"I won't be on display?" I ask, thinking about the night before, with all those eyes and Scarlett's grasping hands .

"This evening, you will wait on the Masters and Mavens at the Neophyte Gala, allowing them to see you, speak to you, and offer for you, should you catch their eye."

"Will I be wearing an apron and heels?" I snort, imagining having to serve people in that and nothing else.

"Hm. That's a delicious idea, but no. You won't have a stitch on."

Figures.

"Tonight is very important, Eden. The Neophyte Gala marks the start of your journey. Most Novices are chosen by a Master during the festivities, if they haven't been claimed in a previous event."

I pluck at my dress, accepting the fact that I'm standing on the proverbial cliff and about to either leap or be pushed off into an abyss of debauchery. My eyes skip from table to table, imagining each chair filled with individuals vying to, as Zed put it, pluck every petal of my blossom. Too bad I'm not a cactus flower. Wait. Those don't have thorns, either. Maybe a carnivorous flower? Actually, that sounds like something from Pandora.

"Do you have any questions?" Zed asks, interrupting my random musing of the botany of science fiction plants.

I take a moment to think. "What if I don't get… um… selected or whatever?"

He laughs. "I have a stack of tokens from the games proving that won't be an issue. But, ultimately, you will consent to any who offer for you."

Phew. At least I don't have to worry about Scarlett getting her hands on my hoo-ha.

"So, I'm basically going to play the part of a waitress while people bid on me? "

"That's a rather vulgar way to put it."

" That's vulgar?" I sweep my arm to encompass the murals covering every wall. "What the fuck do you call all this?"

"Art."

I burst out laughing. "Oh. Okay. Let me guess, you weren't an art major." My lips twitch, and I giggle.

Zed takes it all in stride, cracking a smile as he studies me. "I have a feeling it's going to be a very entertaining evening."

"It will be if you're giving an art class."

He chuckles. "Let's finish the tour, have an early lunch, and then I want you to nap this afternoon. You need to be rested for tonight."

I salute him. "Okay, Professor."