Chapter 10

I can't decide what makes my head feel more twisted: Greyson's mood swings or the mystery pill he just shoved down my throat. He must have known what it was; otherwise he wouldn't have been so insistent on me taking it, but he could have at least told me what it was.

Now I've got an unknown drug entering my bloodstream, and I'm starting my second trial with blurred vision and a foggy head.

The two men dressed in black lead me into a dark room. Black light illuminates the space, and there's slow, sensual music playing on the speakers above. I can hardly hear myself think over the loud volume. Trying to force myself to focus, I strain my eyes, scanning the area.

Five other attendees cloaked in black masks are scattered across the large room. It is mostly empty. I squint as various objects come into focus. A few couches, a throne, and on the side of the room I see two tables. Above us there's a balcony where I find Greyson and several others in gold masks observing us. Some sit forward, resting their elbows in their laps as they eagerly wait. Greyson's posture is relaxed, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

More men dressed in black suddenly enter the room, swarming us without a word. I'm surrounded by three of them immediately, and I jump back in surprise.

Someone from the balcony gets on an intercom and the music is turned down momentarily.

"Welcome, initiates," he begins. "You will be stripped bare and equipped with two of our devices, a collar and a watch. You'll each be coated from head to toe in a predetermined paint color chosen for you by your Elder. The object of this game is simple. Through intimate touch, you must mix your color with that of our special Reckoning guests. They'll join you once you've been prepped. You have one rule: Initiates are NOT to touch initiates."

He's smiling as he's speaking to us. I can barely make out his form in the low lighting, but his white teeth shine against the black light.

The men in black begin clawing at me, cutting my dress from my body with a pair of scissors. I swat at them, but it's no use. The three of them overpower me easily, and I'm left naked within seconds. From behind, one of them wraps a thick black collar around my neck, securing it tightly to my skin. I couldn't fit a finger under it if I tried, and it's making it hard to breathe.

"It's a little tight," I let out, wincing as I pull at it.

"It's supposed to be," the man to my right says as he clamps a watch with a screen around my wrist, leaving me in nothing but my mask and their two devices.

He pulls it to himself, tapping on the screen, and then changing a few settings. I can't focus on what's on the screen. My head is spinning and my vision isn't getting any better.

The man's voice cracks above us again. "Oh, and no one will leave this room without completing their task."

All of the men dressed in black finish their tasks at the same time, and they exit the room together, quickly replaced by a giddy and drunk crowd of unsuspecting party-goers. Their vibrant masks glow brightly beneath the black light, accompanied by the same collars and watches we've been fitted with.

They appear heavily intoxicated, and I'd be willing to bet they've been drugged with the same mystery pill as me. Six of them are spread out across the room, most of them holding a champagne flute or alcoholic beverage in their hands.

The doors we entered through open once more, and the men dressed in black shuffle into the room with massive buckets of paint. They're on me before I can get my vision focused on them, dousing me in the cold, thick liquid from head to toe. My hair, my eyes, every crack and crevice of my body is plastered with blue paint. A shiver makes me jolt as it spreads over me.

"Fuck, it's cold," I hiss, wrapping my arms around myself as I shake.

These men don't speak. I'm unsure if they've been instructed to be silent, or if they're just that unfriendly.

The other party-goers squeal and cry out as the buckets of paint hit their skin, but their sounds quickly turn to laughter. There are twelve of us total in this room, and we're equally painted in three fluorescent colors: blue, yellow, and white.

Leaving us once more, the men in black exit the room. The twelve of us are mostly silent as we look around, taking in what's happening. It's easy to see that none of us have any fucking idea what's going on, but the unsuspecting party-goers are quick to spring back to life when the sensual, exotic music picks back up.

I feel the beat flowing through my chest, and that's when I realize we've all been drugged with a psychedelic of some kind. My body feels light, like I'm not really here, but I know I am. The bright paint colors make everything that much more intense, but I'm doing everything I can to focus.

They want us to mix our colors. For what? Some kind of secret society art project? Greyson said it was a show, indicating that what happened by the blood fountain was only the beginning. Was that his way of telling me I need to fuck my way out of here? I can't imagine they'd let us rub bodies, then leave. They're expecting more from us.

A show.

Looking up, I search for Greyson. He's still leaned back, his arm draped over the arm of his throne. I can't make out his eyes, but I know he's watching me.

He wants a show. We've all got our kinks, and this is his. He loves watching.

Several of the other initiates have already begun moving around the room. They picked up on the task immediately, and they're moving from small talk to being handsy at an accelerated pace. I suppose the drugs were put into our systems for this very reason. To force us to loosen up, and to dull our abilities to think for ourselves.

Fuck, and shut up.

Give them a show. Do what they want.

Moving from my position in the center of the room, I make my way to the outer perimeter, taking note of everything I'm seeing. The couches are leather, I assume because they'd be easier to clean and they'd be slippery against wet human bodies. I reach the two tables covered by black table cloths. From the other side of the room, I hadn't seen what was on them, but now that I'm here, my stomach and jaw drop at the same time.

Thin, black blades are barely noticeable with the way they've been scattered across the dark tablecloths, accompanied by more champagne flutes filled with blood. A charcuterie board of meats, cheese, and fruit sits in the middle as a fancy centerpiece. Everything inside me is screaming to grab a knife, to keep it concealed and hidden away just in case I need it, but I have nowhere to hide it. I'm completely naked and exposed with nowhere to hide my secrets.

I yelp as a hand comes in contact with my hip, and I spin around, coming face to face with a man in a green mask. His tall, athletic body is covered in the same blue paint as I am, and there's a sly smile plastered across his face as he watches me. I can't lie; he's attractive. Most of the people at this event are, but I suppose that's what money buys and attracts.

Risking a glance at the balcony where Greyson and the other Elders are spectating, I see that he's now sitting forward, his elbows resting on his knees. I have his full, undivided attention.

We're supposed to be putting on a show, mixing paint colors with our bodies, and yet, here we are. This is one way to piss off Greyson, to punish him for bringing me here and forcing me to play his games. I can make games of my own.

Clearing my throat, I ask the man in the green mask, "What's your name?"

I bite my bottom lip as I finish the words, arching my back slightly and pushing out my breasts. His eyes drop to them, taking in the sight of them before he speaks.

"Mason," he says as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

I don't have to look down to know his dick is rock hard, standing straight up for me. I wouldn't be surprised if they drugged some of these guys with a little blue pill in addition to the purple one.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Greyson shift in the throne above us, moving closer to the edge of his seat. A devilish smile cracks across my lips, and I reach out to Mason, gently sliding my hand across his forearm. Goosebumps raise on his skin as my fingers move, and he lets out a low, hungry growl.

Mason slips his hand around the small of my back, pulling my body into his. "What's your name?"

His dick pokes my stomach as he leans in, fanning his breath across my ear. Chills roll down my spine, and I crane my neck to meet his eyes. Greyson warned me about keeping my identity a secret. Telling Mason my name would be foolish, especially in the presence of so many Elders.

My brain isn't working. It's not computing the fact that I need a coverup, so I do the only thing I can think of. With my heart thumping, I reach down, taking his dick in my hand. It's covered in paint, making it easy to slide my hand over him. He moans, pushing his hips into me. I'm forced to step back, bumping into the table behind me.

A champagne glass falls, splashing my back as the liquid hits the table. Mason either ignores it or doesn't notice, and he covers my mouth with his, dominating my mouth as I stroke him. His tongue is warm as it pushes inside me, and I don't fight him when he swirls it inside my mouth.

Knowing Greyson is watching, I cry out against Mason's mouth when he drops his fingers to my pussy, kneading the paint into my sensitive skin. Mason reacts to my cry by pushing a finger inside me. He pumps it in and out, using his leg to spread me wider for him.

I'd intended to put on a show of my own, for Greyson, fucking with him instead of mixing the paint colors like I'm supposed to, but I'm getting lost in the feeling of Mason's fingers. I'm already on cloud nine, feeling like I'm walking around in spirit form and none of this is real, and the added touch of his fingers on my pussy drives me over the edge. I get lost in them, and I begin to forget what I'm doing.

Mason slides his fingers around my hips, then cups my ass as he lifts me onto the table. The rest of the champagne glasses fall, spilling all over the floor and the table. The blood seeps into the table cloth as it spreads, disappearing completely. He pushes me back, and I let go of his dick as I lean back, using my elbows to prop myself up on the table.

"I'm going to make you feel so fucking good," he growls as he spreads my legs wider, giving himself full access to my pussy.

From above, I know they can see everything. They purposely left the balcony dark, leaving the only light in the room down here for their viewing pleasure. If I had to guess, I'd say most of them are probably up there stroking their dicks as they get off to watching us.

Mason's mouth is on my clit before I can say anything, and I watch him as he begins devouring me. He nips, licks, and pulls at my flesh, eating me like I'm his last meal. I fist my fingers through his hair, pushing his face into my pussy when I need more pressure. Sliding his tongue through my center, he bobs his head up and down before landing on my clit, where he suctions his mouth to my nub. His tongue flicks out, batting at my clit as fast as he can. I almost scream as the pleasure takes over, mixing with the ecstasy of the psychedelic in my system.

"Fuck, yes!" I cry out, bucking my hips against his mouth.

He wraps his hands around my legs, holding me still as he goes deeper, plunging his thick, wet tongue inside my pussy. His hot breath against me makes me shiver, sending waves of pleasure pulsing through my body.

"You taste like heaven," Mason groans, letting his dark eyes meet mine.

This is euphoric, absolutely fucking exhilarating.

Reaching down, I use my fingers to swirl around my clit while he eats me. Together, we draw out my first orgasm, and I can't hold back my moans as they come barreling out of me. My head hits the table behind me as I fall back, letting him taste every bit of my pussy. Stars form in my vision, shattering around us. He doesn't stop until my body is shaking and I'm on my way down. My fingers move in low, drawn out circles as my body finishes convulsing.