It feels like over an hour that I stand there and gape at him in surprise. Though, it’s probably only a millisecond. Before he can change his mind, I step through the curtain and enter the dark, ominous hallway.
It seems longer than I remember, but it’s probably an illusion from the lack of light. There’s no crowd back here, but a few people linger along the walls, and unlike in the main room, no one looks at me. They keep to themselves, or each other, and not a single head turns in my direction. Gentle light emits from the large windows on either side, and it takes my brain a few moments to register that the people gathered around the hallway aren’t looking at me, because they’re busy…with each other.
I don’t stare long enough to actually see what they’re doing. One man has a woman pressed face-first against the glass as he grinds slowly against her from behind.
Trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, I slink into the darker corners, trying not to be a creep. Moving slowly down the hall, my heart is literally pounding so hard in my chest that I can feel it in my ears. What am I doing here? This is insane.
But my curiosity is too strong, and I’ve gotten this far. One slow step at a time, I make my way farther down the hallway. The first window is open to a room that’s too dark to see anything. It’s a dim blue light, and there’s movement on the other side—the quick, pounding motion of someone being…well, pounded.
My throat constricts as I look away then back again.
And my belly warms.
But I don’t stop, turning my head to the other side, where the woman is being dry humped into the window. I can hear the gentle hum of the man’s voice as he whispers in her ear. I can only imagine what he’s saying…and the filthy thoughts only make me hotter. Beyond the window is what looks like a red room with no one inside. There are a lot of things hanging from the wall, a lot of things I can’t even assign names to; I’m guessing whips, paddles, cuffs…that sort of thing.
Not my taste, so I keep walking. I pass by a couple standing in the middle of the room, giggling to each other as they enjoy the view. The woman smiles at me and the man says hello in a way that makes me walk a little faster. I nod politely and move on.
The room on the opposite side is blocked by a black curtain with shreds of light peeking through. So people who want to use the rooms, without being exhibitionists, can do so. A little disappointing, actually.
Seriously, who am I?
When I reach the throne room, where I once sat before it was finished, I pause. There are people in it. Three people, unless I’m missing one. It’s dimly lit from the inside, enough to see vague figures and movement but not really enough to recognize faces. I then realize that this means we can see them, but they can’t really see us.
My gaze still bounces from the dark hallway to the people in the room because, even though I know it’s made for watching, it feels strange and wrong to just keep staring.
Plus, there’s the awkward sensation of being aroused…in public.
My thin, cotton thong is currently soaked, and every slide of friction when I walk sends sparks up my spine. I have a strong urge to touch myself, which I’m obviously not going to do. Not because it wouldn’t be appropriate here, I mean…look around. But I just can’t. I couldn’t. No. That’s too weird.
Still, I stop at the throne room and force myself to look. I don’t know what to do with my hands as I stand here and stare, so I lock my forearms together at my waist.
There’s a woman sitting on the giant throne, and another is kneeling in front of her—just as Garrett illustrated for me. She’s definitely doing what I think she’s doing with her face buried between the other woman’s legs.
My mouth goes dry. It feels so wrong to be watching this, but I can’t look away.
There’s someone standing next to the throne, but I can’t quite make out if it’s a woman or man. They’re just stroking the woman in the chair’s shoulders and head. Every few moments, the woman covers her face or lets out a giggle so loud I can make it out over the sound of the music in the main room. She looks almost euphoric, full of smiles and moans, shifting back and forth between embarrassment and pleasure.
The intensity between my legs has grown painful, and I feel myself starting to sweat. I squeeze my thighs together, briefly wondering if I could make myself come without actually touching myself at all. My thighs rub together subtly, and it’s like trying to scratch an itch through three layers of wool.
“Enjoying yourself?”