NightWhere Read Online Free PDF

about. The Blue Room was the just the starting dance of the damned for those who had been recruited. With its go-go cages and air of total orgiastic abandon, it seemed like nirvana to the first-timer, but the reality was, its offerings were pedestrian compared to the deeper reaches of the club. They needed to prove they were worthy to take that next step before they were invited in. But most of them eventually were. Something set each of them apart from the usual pleasure-seekers at strip and swing clubs. Some deeper weakness, some darker kink. Some need that took them beyond the mundane pleasure-seeker and kink jockey.
    The Blue Room held some S&M trappings—wooden racks with chained manacles lined one wall, where the pain play began. The sound of whips cracking echoed above the industrial dance music now and then, when the synthesizers grew quiet. But the neophytes were still all about the tease—strutting and baring it on the dance floor, switching partners with the unabashed glee of kids set loose without rules for the first time in the midst of a toy store. They tried everyone and everything as fast as they could, anxious to embrace the dark seduction of NightWhere.
    After a few nights, the Watchers intervened. Nothing happened in NightWhere that wasn’t seen by one of their number. No sin was too small to be savored. And those who were ready received a second invitation, different from the ones that got them into the club. The Blue Room was the appetizer. There were some who never really grasped that and never traveled beyond its blue strobe lights. But those people eventually stopped getting invitations to come to NightWhere…because the Blue Room was not the point. Not really.
    The Watchers were quiet, but they were always in the shadows. They walked the club at midnight and passed paper discreetly into waiting palms.
    Amelia had received hers six months ago. And now she wore the invitation around her wrist. The mark of the snake. Its blue-grey scales wound around her skin like a bond. The serpent’s mouth swallowed its tail, the ultimate act of self-indulgence.
    Amelia walked through the middle of the dance floor, letting one hand slide across the hairy chest of a man whose eyes were closed in pleasure. She smiled and ruffled the hair of the head that worked at the man’s groin and then passed on. Getting off on the dance floor was like premature ejaculation. They’d learn.
    She passed the wooden racks where a woman and a man were tied to polished oak arms, as a bare-chested, brawny man swung a flogger in each hand. He smacked the leather straps against the man’s back, which arched with every contact. The woman was braver. Her short, spiky blonde-and-brown hair was matted in sweat as she stiffened with each blow from the leather. Each blow caught her across her small, tight breasts. Her nipples were hard and the sweat pooled in her belly button. The woman whispered one thing after every blow.
    “Harder,” she begged.
    Amelia nodded as she watched. The woman reminded her a lot of herself. Taking it right on the chest. Needing it to go deeper, below the skin.
    She didn’t recognize the body, and so she violated the torture zone, forcing the flogger to stop. Amelia slid one finger beneath the woman’s hair, lifting it from where it had plastered against her forehead.
    “What’s your name?” Amelia asked.
    “Rae,” the woman whispered. “Tell him to make me feel it.”
    Amelia kissed Rae softly on the lips, enjoying the heat of her need there. “I’ll take care of it,” she promised. Then she took the flogger from the big man, who was streaming sweat already from the exercise.
    “Let me show you what she needs,” she said.
    When the first slap of the leather caught Rae’s breasts, she cried out.
    “That’s better, isn’t it?” Amelia asked, and Rae nodded quickly yes, biting her lip as the straps fell again, and then dragged away.
    Amelia whirled her wrist gently, but the sting of the leather