Brax approached from behind, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other around her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back reflexively—like she was about to be drawn into an orgy of emotional chaos.
He spun her around to face him. Her eyes opened, bright with courage and determination.
"I want to go down," she said, voice steady.
"You do?" Brax asked, amused.
"I want to go down now. How do I get to the floor?"
He started to laugh. "Alright, we are open all night. They are not going anywhere."
"Wait," she said, almost in disbelief. "This is your club? You are not just the manager or something?"
"This is not a place where an owner can just live another life and have someone else run it," Brax explained. "In a club like this, the owner is part of the community. If I step away, the energy vanishes. I am this club, and this club is me."
He moved back toward his desk. "Let me walk you down," he offered.
She felt a surge of energy from within, so strong she thought she might be sick. Brax motioned for her to follow him out the other door. They descended the stairs to the main floor, where the music touched her soul. He signaled security to keep a close eye on her—"nothing negative can happen," they assured him, knowing she did not belong to this lifestyle.
As they reached the club floor, Brax looked deep into her eyes. He reached into her mind, letting oxytocin and dopamine flow through her brain. By the time she hit the floor and started to move, she had goosebumps and chills all over—spine, arms, legs. Between her legs, a heat so intense it could light a cigarette.
She removed her dress, revealing a matching black and purple bra, panties with garters, and black thigh-highs. She began to move instinctively, lost in the rhythm, in her desire.
If anyone watched closely, they would see her legs trembling from orgasm. She was completely entranced—lost in her longing and Brax's control. Kyle's influence had set the stage, but Brax was the one who had brought her into this forbidden world.
The atmosphere, hormones, adrenaline—they all played their part. But none of it mattered if he had not been what she truly needed. Now, she was desperate for release—crossing a line she had never even considered before.
The energy, the atmosphere, and the hormones would have played a little role, but all would have had little effect if he had been what she truly needed at the time. Now she was so desperate for release that nothing he could do would have kept her from crossing the line into the forbidden. Funny thing about the world today: the forbidden is only forbidden until you get inside. Once inside, it just… is. Not bad, not good, just is and is not.
This club did not change her. Kyle moved her into a corner she did not feel comfortable in. She was not happy living in that corner. Once she was let out, she ran as far away in her mind as she could—and now she belonged to the club. Or maybe the club belonged to her.
Security was pushing people out the door to close up, and Sera was still vibrating like a tuning fork. She sat at the bar, waiting for the thrill to burn away like everything else in her life, but he seemed to just keep going. She was squeezing her legs together as if she had to pee, fingers gripping the padding in front of the bar like she was on a roller coaster.
Brax came to sit beside her, across from Sonya.
Sera looked at Sonya and asked, "I am sorry, but I have to ask—are those real?"
Sonya looked down where Sera was staring, gave a sly grin, and walked away.
"Now what?" Sera asked.
"Now we go back to the after-party," Brax replied, beginning to stand.
"Where do we go for that?" she asked.
"See those steps in the back?" he said. All the lights were on now; everything was much clearer. "Just follow Sonya. She is headed there now."
Sonya reached out her hand to lead the way.
"Come on, brown suga—you have not seen a thing till you have been to an after-party Brax throws. You should see this place on New Year's," she said, her voice trailing off as she moved further away. "I partied so hard one year I was laid up with dehydration and exhaustion for a week!"
Kara stepped out from the back room behind the bar.
"You think this is a good idea, Brax? He clearly was not hearing anything you told him. Aside from outright killing him, this was the most humane thing to do," Kara said, as calm as she could manage without second-guessing him. "You are the boss, baby, and I will follow your lead. Just let me know what you need me to do. I will kill Kyle myself if you want me to."
Kara ran her finger down Brax's scruff face.
"You are my most precious asset," he whispered. "Shit would have to get thick for me to send you out to kill your own brother. You know you are my princess killer. If I need you, baby, I will call on you. Until then, just hang back and harvest all the fruit you can from the tree I planted."
Brax gave Kara a long kiss on the forehead and headed back to the after-party to finish what he started with Sera. If this does not show him that the closer he gets, the more people around him are going to vanish, die, or try to kill him—I do not know what will.
When Brax and Kara arrived at the house, they found twenty to thirty people engaged in conversation, music playing softly in the corner by the bar. Sonya and Jade were dancing with a few guys who thought they had hit the jackpot being asked to come back to the house. The women, asked to come along, acted as if this was nothing special, clinging to one another as if entering something they were not quite ready for. These guests were clearly not from the club—they had been invited by some of the guys who worked for Brax.
Over time, they began to relax once they saw that nothing insane was happening. Just a wind-down after the last few nights. After all, Brax was going to make sure it stayed as calm as possible.
Sera tried to have a conversation with Chad, who stood behind the bar. She was not getting very far. Brax approached her to help.
"What is this guy's deal?" Sera asked once Brax was close enough.
"This is Chad," Brax explained. "He is my loyal friend, but he is not big on conversation." Brax gestured for Chad to keep an eye on everyone, making sure nobody wandered off to do something they should not.
Brax then gave Sera the tour, where the Brax slept, far from the active party upstairs. He showed her the bedrooms, enormous and seemingly unused for years, except Chad's—who did not have a coffin hidden away, so they avoided his room for that reason. The room where Brax sleeps did have a coffin, but it was well hidden.
As they entered, Sera saw that Brax's room was decorated in black and red with gold trim. The walls large, simulated windows, even though they were in the basement. One wall was lined with knick-knacks reminiscent of a Hungarian ruler's chamber. The wall with the doorway looked almost unfinished—like a decorator had forgotten it entirely.
Brax grabbed a remote from an ottoman, and the wall started to shift. A television, stereo, and full entertainment system revealed themselves.
"What is on the other side? The parts that did not open?" Sera asked.
Brax smiled. "Would you like to see?"
She nodded eagerly.
With a press of his remote, suits and clothing flew out from the wall as if she were in The Matrix. On the other side was a large bar and surveillance system, with eyes on every corner of the club. A fireplace emerged from the lower part of the wall, lit itself, and flickered with antique flames.
A rush washed over her, her body relaxing as if begging him to take her. Brax felt her energy rip through him like a whip. She was still in the underwear she had stripped down to in the club. Brax kissed her; his arms felt as hard as rock, yet soft as bread. He lifted her and laid her on the bed. The lights dimmed, candles ignited on all sides.
He took off his shirt and began to kiss down her neck, unhooking her bra. She kicked off her shoes, then plunged her hand into his pants. She popped open his buttons and quickly removed her panties, keeping her thigh-highs in place. She pulled his grips and pants down in one fluid motion.
She took his fleshlight into her mouth, drawing back with force, as if siphoning him out. He turned onto his side, spreading her legs to expose her, already open. He lightly chewed his lips aginst her clitoris like it was the last scoop of ice cream at the bottom of a cone he just couldn't get enough of. He eased his fingers inside her, motioning as if to bring her closer.
They climaxed together. He flipped her onto her stomach, placing a pillow under her front hip. With a rhythmic motion, he prepared himself, finding the lubrication she was pumping out as she came again—and again.
The third crescendo hit, and she spun herself around, pushing him onto his back. She assumed a crabwalk stance, raising and lowering her hips over his large shaft—like a gyroscopic drop. Each peak left a trail of white cream at the base of his shaft, contrasting erotically with her wet, brown skin.
She slid off his shaft, began to touch herself, and started to come again. Covering his face and chest, his tongue pushed out, tasting her. She spun over, pressing her clit against his face, suckling and stroking as fiercely as she could, while he licked her from anus to clit.
By the time he filled her mouth with his release, she was nearly drowning him in her proof. She slowly spun back around, resting her head on his chest, and they both drifted into a deep sleep—never waking until the next afternoon.