Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Just then, the photographers I hired to cover the event came in. It didn’t take much to get them access, just money in the right hands and a lie that the photographers would distort the identities of any and all attendees and staff.
To be fair, only one person here would have her identity exposed.
“What’s the surprise?” she asked, her thighs shaking again as she tried so hard not to come from my fingers mercilessly rubbing her sensitive clit.
The lights dimmed even further, and a spotlight was pointed at the raised dais in the middle of the room.
“Lords, ladies, nymphs, and satyrs, your attention for just a moment,” a man called as he walked up to the podium.
He was naked except for a crown of golden laurel leaves on his head. “Tonight, as you all know, is not a bacchanal in honor of Bacas, or even Dionysus. Tonight is in honor of the great god of the sea Poseidon and his taking of his lover Theophane. Tonight his union with the most beautiful mortal will be celebrated as he takes her on the dais, and claims her as his own, defeating anyone who thought to pursue her. He will prove to all mortals they are not worthy to claim a woman clearly made for the gods.”
The production was taking some liberties with the myth, but it was still entertaining. Olivia was sitting up now, watching him like she couldn’t wait to see the show start.
“Ready for your surprise, princess?” I whispered.
She nodded.
“I give you Poseidon and his Princess Theophane,” the announcer boomed, then he stepped away from the podium.
I stood and put her back on her feet as I guided her toward the middle of the room. “Tonight, princess, I am Poseidon, and you are my Theophane.”
CHAPTER 30
OLIVIA
Marksen grasped my hand and pulled me to the large golden platform in the middle of the room.
I tried to fight him, but his grip was too strong.
It was different when I was in a hidden alcove.
It was secretive. Seductive. Alluring. Illicit.
Yes, people could see me, and I could see them, but I was among them, hidden in a sea of writhing bodies. One of the many anonymous.
By putting me on that center platform in the middle of the room, highlighted by a spotlight, I would be the center of attention … on display.
“Please don’t,” I whispered.
“This is happening, Olivia. Remember what happens if you are a bad girl.”
His threats were clear. This was happening, and I had to let it. I could stop it, but then everything I had ever worked for would be gone.
It would be fine, I promised myself. I would get through this like I had everything else. It wouldn’t be so bad. I still had my sheep’s mask on, and my identity was protected.
He stopped me in front of the dais, and I looked out into the crowd of faces. There were a lot more people here than I had originally thought.
At first, I’d guessed it to be maybe forty to fifty people, tops, not including the “cast.” Now, viewed from the middle of the room, my guess was closer to one hundred and fifty. Everyone was in some state of undress; the only thing they all wore were the masks hiding their identities. Each of them had stopped what they were doing, or more bluntly who they were doing, to watch Theophane and Poseidon—as in, me and Marksen.
“I think the people deserve to see how beautiful you really are,” Marksen whispered in my ear.
I was unable to move, petrified he was going to pull off my mask and show the entire room who I was.
Instead, he pulled on the thick straps of my dress, pushing them down my shoulders, uncovering my breasts. Then he pushed the dress over my hips and let it flutter to the floor in a pool of gold.
It was hot under the light. Still, I wanted to cover myself, hide from all the eyes taking me in. I didn’t. I knew Marksen would be disappointed if I did that. I clenched my fists at my sides and waited for him to tell me what to do next.
The music changed, shifting from a beautiful, soothing melody to something darker, and more sinister. The spotlight softened.
Marksen ran his hands over my body slowly, then cupped my breasts, appearing to offer them to the audience.
“Can you feel it, princess?” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder.
“Feel what?”
“The power of having everyone’s attention on you.”
I didn’t think power was the right word for drawing this attention.
Though maybe it was, because I was all but naked, wearing only the golden gladiator heels and the gilded sheep mask, while he was still impeccably dressed in his tuxedo.
They said the tuxedo made the man. Maybe Ralph Lauren made him feel powerful. I dismissed the thought as soon as I had it. Marksen’s power had nothing to do with any clothes he was or was not wearing. It was all just him. He radiated his power and the confidence that could only ever come from privilege. It was just who he was.