Pawn Among Wolves

PAWN AMONG WOLVES CH. 16-Pt2

They enjoyed that.

Desperately she began to count seats. The auditorium was almost circular, from where she stood there were rows upon rows of plush throne-like chairs dropping down to the central stage; hundreds of them, all occupied, almost all of the pale faces of their occupants turned towards her, eyes gleaming with malice and excitement in the low lighting.

More rustling above her hear drew her eyes up. A second sea of faces were visible above the elaborate moulding fronting the balcony. The faint smiles or sneers on those faces set her breathing racing in short pants.

The smiles grew.

Gemma shut her eyes and reminded herself: twenty-five minutes. All she had to do was prolong this show, keep the Louse and Nick absorbed for less than half-an-hour, so that her wolves could reach their vantage point and set off the diversion. The wolf slaves were never keyed to anyone other than these two.

Her guards turned her back to face the stage.

Disdain!

Slowly, slowly, she was drawn on, paraded down the shallow staircase, precarious on her heels, her breathing accelerating as they approached the stage. The rustling murmur grew, and the scent raked at her as she tried frantically to drag back over herself some stoic aloofness.

She couldn't. Her tremble was continuous now, and she feared she might actually be having a panic attack. Not that she expected any medical assistance around here, if she did.

Her ears were ringing as she fumbled the four short steps up onto the stage, and her guards passed her leashes over to the two ringmasters. Drawn to the centre stage, she was turned to face the audience, the lights thankfully blinding her to the sight of them. However, the scent was worse. And now the audience's lust was augmented by the predatory anticipation of the pair of sharks slowly circling her. She was too vulnerable like this. Nick slipped the tips of two fingers under one of the suspenders which crossed her left buttock, stroking them slowly up and down across the sensitive skin. She couldn't help but tense further.

Twenty minutes left? Gemma thought to herself desperately. Surely it's been five minutes since I entered? Her ears twitched to the sound of bitten-off cry of pain from above the balcony, followed by a murmur of wretched pleading slowly fading as the slave was taken away. Ginger's part was working.

Do your bit. For an instant, Gemma managed to steady herself.

Nick pulled the elasticated line of roses out to its full extent, and then released the band to snap back against her tender skin. Both sharks laughed as she flinched slightly, and Nick stepped closer to her side, facing sideways to her front, trailing his taunting fingers along her trembling hip to the next suspender band, stretched tight across the top of her right thigh. Gemma shut her eyes, reaching desperately for some kind of fortitude.

"You didn't really think that we didn't know, did you, little were?" the Louse's musical voice murmured behind her left shoulder, amused. "You didn't really believe that none of your little wolves would betray you?"

The taunt was ignored as Gemma strained to drag her façade of stoicism over her pitiful shivering. The Louse sashayed around her victim's front, trailing the soft strands of the multi-lash whip in her right hand across the heaving breasts, slithering the soft tongues slowly across the black, embroidered corset framing and barely concealing the taut mounds of the wereem's soft, golden skin.

"You don't believe me?" she drawled softly

Still Gemma ignored the Alfamme, furiously pushing her brain elsewhere, counting the seconds silently, wondering how far her assembled pack of her wolves had got, whether they were now slinking silently down to the second-lowest level, as planned, tiptoeing towards freedom.