Chapter 31

Chapter

Thirty-One

Zed spreads a tournament map on the table in the communal lounge room of my residence building. "Every contestant must choose three Olympic events."

I roll my eyes. "Olympics? Seriously?" You'd think I'd be used to this shit, having been on the island for a few weeks now, but it's hard to be nonchalant about pervy Olympics.

"Pleasure Academy Olympics is our most watched event of the year. You'd know that if you tuned in before joining us."

I hear Lily's voice agreeing with him. She's been watching my popularity grow on the platform and keeps pushing me to go deeper into the rabbit hole of kink. I prefer a leisurely swim to a swan dive. Of course, my version of a leisurely swim consists of throwing sand at a referee during a badminton game, tossing a floaty into the pool and jumping on it so the inevitable wave knocks Scarlett out of her pool lounger, and sneaking out after dark with Piper for a kitchen raid. The latter was doomed from the beginning because, you know, cameras. "I hear you saying I need to keep my shit together and my numbers up."

"Exactly." He claps my shoulder and directs my attention to the map, which shows a familiar field divided into sections for every Olympic activity. "Each event will be scored based on success and a viewer popularity score, giving each player a combined total and determining the gold, silver, and bronze medalists for the event. The Olympic Gold Medalist receives an exclusive trip to Elysium, a private island, with their Master or Maven." He looks at me, noting my frown. "Eden, I don't need to tell you that Darien wants you to win. It's a pride thing as much as a perk thing."

"I've told you before and proven it many times: I'm not Sporty Spice."

"There are no cameras on the island."

I purse my lips. He knows my soft spots.

"You and Darien would have the island to yourselves, minus the staff."

I remain stoic on the outside.

"There are waterfalls." He says this like the devil tempting Faust. "There are books. Lots of books. A whole library of books."

Fuck. "It better have a ladder and rails, or this Belle is coming back to demand a refund."

Zed laughs. "I will ensure it does. But you have to win first. Which events do you want to enter?"

I scan the list of events in the map's key, my frown deepening with each title. "Who the fuck comes up with this shit? "

"Gamemakers. They call their department District 69."

My mouth drops open. The Hunger Games! I knew it! I said it during that carnival fuckfest. "No shit! Really?"

"No." He holds his face for two seconds, then bursts into laughter that quickly devolves into snorting.

"Ass." But I can't hold onto my ire. My sides hurt by the time I pull myself together. "It would be epic, though."

"Right?" He nods and points to the list of events and their descriptors. "I've got a couple of suggestions, but I want to hear yours first."

Ugh. There may be no District 69, but whoever compiled the events should consider creating one. Every option makes me cringe. It's not the activity itself so much as the idea of doing it naked. My choices are limited to: this sucks, and you can suck a bag of dicks if you think I'm doing that.

Sighing, I point to the map. "Bubblewrap Wrestling, Hungry Hungry Hippos, and the Egg and Spoon Race."

"You do realize the latter involves running, right?"

"Yes, Sensei."

Zed laughs. "Very good. Your events are located in these quadrants." He points to quadrants two and three. "Darien will, of course, be cheering you on from the stands while also placing wagers on each event."

"Wagers? As in money?"

"Well, no. Wagers as in privileges."

I'm immediately suspicious. "What kinds of privileges?"

"Oh, exclusive rooms and such." He folds up the map, avoiding my eyes.

"And such?"

"Mhm. "

"Zed, cut the shit."

He sighs. "Don't freak out, but wagers can include privileges with Novices."

And making her first appearance of the day is Damn-the-Consequences! "Privileges with Novices? Fuck that! No one but Darien is playing with my vajayjay." I grab the map and wad it into a ball, throwing it across the room where it bounces off the lip of the trash can. Figures. "I forfeit."

"You can't forfeit. It's not a team game." He walks over and picks up the map.

"Fine. I'll do my best to suck ass at every event."

"From what I recall, sucking ass was not on your consent list."

I shake my head. It's funny, though.

Zed watches me, eyebrow raised and foot tapping. I bite my lip, trying to keep the mirth inside, but he's like an owner waving a ball around, and I'm a puppy.

"I did say that, didn't I?" He nods, and I lose my shit for a good three minutes. "Jesus, Zed. I don't want to end up Scarlett's plaything, you know?"

"Then don't lose."

"Hardy, har, har." There hasn't been an activity on the island that I haven't fucked up somehow. Either I'm beaning someone in the head, falling on my face, or letting a zinger fly. Between ending up apologizing or strung up as punishment while the world watches, it's pretty clear that athletics is not my thing. "I can't believe you're making me do this. When is it?"

"Tomorrow."

Oh, fuck me.

Trumpets blare as Novices and Acolytes enter the Olympic field. It's so overdone that I find it hard to keep a straight face. I see Piper and Nick heading to quadrant one and Brad walking with his squire to quadrant four. I know Darien is in one of the stands positioned along every quadrant's perimeter, but I can't find him as I scan the crowds. Stands, of course, is a misnomer for what's stationed around the field. Tiered platforms with comfy chairs and side tables laden with iced tea, lemonade, and fruit is a more apt description.

Zed walks at my side, frowning when he sees Marcus wave to me. I wave back, ignoring my squire's look of annoyance.

"Be nice, Zed."

"You shouldn't lead him on. Darien wouldn't like it."

"I'm not leading him on, and Darien isn't my warden."

"He could be. In fact, I think he'd relish the role."

I snort, imagining Darien keeping me under lock and key. I'd be the best fed, most satisfied prisoner if that happened. I wouldn't even plan a jailbreak.

Hungry Hungry Hippos is my first event. A shallow ball pit sits in the center of a large ring. Participants lay on long, raised wheeled boards and roll to the ball pit, grabbing as many as possible before an automatic pully system yanks them back. My biggest concern when learning about this fucked up version of my favorite kid's game was my girls getting smashed, scraped, or otherwise abused by the wheeled contraption. Thankfully, there's padding. Unfortunately, there's no strap keeping me fixed to the board .

Zed leads me to one of the eight boards painted with a cartoonish hippo with a tropical flower tucked behind her ear, batting her eyes at a very well-hung male of her species. Even cartoons aren't spared in Kinkdom.

I take a pair of gloves from Zed, stretch out on the board, arrange the girls, and look at my competition. I don't have a chance in hell.

Over the loudspeaker comes Madame Solara's voice announcing the start of the Pleasure Academy Olympics. A horn blares, and I'm off, using my hands to wheel toward the ball pit. The balls are in constant motion, moved by tiny air ducts that push them around, so just when I reach one, it's blown out of my grip. I give a hissy fuck and reach for another, tucking it under my chin to grab a second. I get ahold of it and am yanked backward, both balls rolling away. I look at them sourly as the board bumps against the starting point next to my collection bin, which will remain empty this round.

I adjust my body and wait for the horn, arms moving like paddles to the ball pit. Two are tucked against the top of my chest when I go hurtling back. I lose both along the way. I'm about done with this shit when the next round begins. All three balls are blown out of my hands, and my anger spikes. Fuck it.

I jump off the board and into the ball pit, grab them by the armful, and then march back to my collection bin and dump them. Hands on my hips, I stand at the edge of the ring and flip off the referee, who blows their whistle at me.

I see Zed rub his hand over his face, shaking his head.

A group of squires descends, but not before I bend over and yell, "Kiss my ass!"