Teacher's Toy (Loftry University Playthings 1)

Chapter 9

Melody

Fear sours my stomach.If not for Bethany at my side, I'm pretty sure I'd either have thrown up or run away. Hell, and at this point, it's still a toss-up that I might do both. Every now and then, she squeezes my hand and offers murmurs of platitudes, but I don't hear any of them. I hear nothing but the roar of my pulse in my ears. Thankfully, walking to this thing isn't required. I for sure would have bolted if it were.

Instead, she and I are crammed into her two-door Camaro, sitting shoulder to shoulder as she drives. She keeps prattling on about things, and I just want peace and quiet. But I can't tell her that because the cadence of her voice is as soothing as it is unnerving. So many rules, so many protocols. Shouldn't they just have a class on this and let my initiation be the final exam?

Tugging the white cloak further about my shoulders, I nestle into the soft fabric. Between that and the powerful heater, I'm almost comfortable. Almost. I swallow down my bile as I contemplate just how naked I am underneath. It helps to know that Bethany is almost as naked as me. Irritation flashes through me. At least she gets to wear underwear. I snake my fingers outside of the cloak and jam the edges together the best I can. I'm almost willing to walk through this thing completely naked if it means I can take off the mask, though. When Bethany told me what I'd be wearing tonight, I imagined a cute half mask, similar to what Professor Richards was wearing earlier. Instead, I have to wear a full-face number with slits for the eyes and two tiny air holes for the nose. If I weren’t hyperventilating now, I would be soon. The only thing forcing me to be calm is my lack of oxygen. I keep my breathing shallow but even, helping me keep the illusion that there's enough air.

"We're here." Her voice is soft and muffled through the thick plastic.

Great. Time to face my doom. Two figures in red cloaks approach the car. One veers off to Bethany's side, and the other stays on course to mine. In synchrony, they open the doors simultaneously and hold out their hands to escort us in. I clutch the opposite side of my cloak with my hand and snake my free one out to take his. It's warm against my skin as he clutches me close. With every movement, my cloak threatens to undo, but I hold fast, ignoring the ache in my fingertips. Bethany lets hers just flap in the breeze, not at all concerned with her state of undress.

There's a small path through dense trees that we take, and I'm not so certain we're even on campus anymore. A deep silence descends on us, and we travel through. It's like a spell is weaving its tendrils all around us. I look up at my escort, trying to see if I can make out who it is. But he gives away nothing. The only reason I know he's not Professor Richards is his height. Just a little bit shorter than he is. That and his shoulders are massive. I look back down at our path, trying to make sense of our winding. Off shooting paths branch out in every direction. Even if I want to run, there's no way I can get out of this forest. I'm already hopelessly lost.

My stomach plummets further as we take yet another turn. I pause for a moment, trying to catch my breath, but my guide isn't having it. He jerks on my arm, pulling me forward. The motion costs me my grip on the cloak, but we're moving too fast for me to gather it back up. That and he's not letting my other hand go at all. In fact, the faster we move, the harder his grip becomes. Finally, the woods open up into a clearing. What looks like a massive castle stands in the middle. How in the hell did I miss this on the campus tour? It's then I realize that there really is no escape. Somewhere in the back of my brain, there was always a small nugget of hope that I could somehow get out of this. But if they have enough money to hide a castle, they have more than enough to find me if I ever ran.

My brain lurches into overdrive. Where would I run? Home? What's actually waiting for me back there? I toss a glance over to Bethany, taking in her serene smile. Her eyes sparkle and twinkle in the various lamps. Her face is flushed with excitement. She's not scared at all. Maybe all this would work out in the end. Besides, what's sleeping with a few men if it grants you your dreams? My eyes flutter closed for a moment as I will my stomach to believe my words. When I open them, we are at the main door. It's now or never. As the doors open inwards, I take a deep breath, determined to face this challenge head-on.

The massive doors open into a large atrium filled with candles. The cold from outside barely touches the warmth in here. Sweat gathers at the nape of my neck, threatening to slide down. Shrugging a bit, I resist the urge to take my cloak off. I'd rather be hot and mostly clothed than naked and cool. Bethany stands next to me, her cloak open and back over her shoulders, revealing her lithe form and sexy underwear. A small prick of jealousy worms its way through me. If only I could be so carefree. Instead, I take this moment and regather everything, clutching it close to my body.

After what feels like forever, the main doors open. I start to walk in, but my guide holds me firmly in place. Peering up at him, I try to figure out who he is. There's something about him that feels familiar. My whole body screams at me, trying to get me to remember, but the answer lies on the tip of my brain, tickling my mind but not revealing itself. He says nothing, simply staring at me with his sightless mask. The doors close again once Bethany slips inside, and irritation crawls down my spine, following the tiny droplets of sweat that finally come free. The sweat should bring relief. Instead, everything just feels so much hotter and uncomfortable. I long to be back outside where it's cool, and I can breathe.

As time slips by, my anxiety gets the better of me. I thought I could do this. I had every intention of keeping my head down and plodding forward, but I can’t. My eyes dart around the room, scouring every nook and cranny. I’m poised to make a run for it when the doors finally open back up. This time, my guide walks me through. The closer we get, the more details come out in the flickering light. Naked bodies writhe in an erotic fresco scrawled across the door. That faint ache starts again as I study the various positions and punishments being inflicted upon the people. Unfortunately, my perusal is stopped short by my guide's strong hand jerking me to his side. As we cross the threshold, my breathing and movements stop. Dozens of faces, all covered in masks, fill the room. All of them are converged around a single, four-poster bed. A ring of women in white with full face masks stand in the most inner ring while a larger ring of men in red with half masks stand behind them. Pillows rest at the feet of each woman. Scattered around the room are several other men wearing full masks like the two that escorted us in. I try to swallow, but my mouth is far too dry. He pulls at me again, but I dig in my heels, refusing to move. I've seen this horror movie before, and there's no way in hell that I'm going to be some sacrifice.

After a moment or two, he drops my hand and stands behind a masked woman, pausing to look at me before settling into place. I turn to run, but the doors are closing fast. If I can get a little extra speed, I might be okay. The tile floor is cold and slick under my feet as I scramble towards the closing sliver of light. Almost there. The candles still twinkle invitingly on the other side. As my fingers scrape against the metal, a firm arm encircles my waist, hauling me up against a hard body. My being erupts into a flurry of movements. Without even thinking, I flair out with my arms and legs, trying anything I can to free myself. If the grunts are any indication, I manage to get in a few blows before more hands reach out and grab each of my limbs. Each one holds on tight, not letting me have any leverage to fight with. That doesn't stop me, though. I still pull and yank as best I can. If they're going to kill me, they're going to have to work for it.

"Enough!"

A hard hand connects with my ass, and it takes a moment or two for Professor Richards’ voice to permeate into my brain. My mind screams at me to fight some more, even as my body sags in relief against him. If he's here, then surely I'm not going to die. Right? Soft words and murmurs that I cannot understand flood my brain while his fingers move in soothing, rhythmic patterns against the cloak. It takes several moments, but my breathing finally returns to normal. His arms clutch me tight to him as he keeps whispering to me. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the deep rise and fall of his chest and try desperately to mimic him.

"There now, you'll be alright."

His voice exudes confidence, but I'm not buying his story. Nothing will ever be all right again. Slowly, he turns me back to face the crowd and that bed. That massive bed that takes up so much room. A bed like that is expecting a show. It has to be. Taking a moment to really study it. Restraints hang down from the head and foot, glinting in the light, and I try again to turn in his arms. His firm grasp doesn't let me even budge, so I try digging my heels in again. He barks out a laugh and snaps his fingers. Within seconds four more sets of hands grab me again and hoist me high into the air. I wriggle about, setting them off balance a bit, but they still hold firm, taking me even closer to that damn bed.

Screaming, I buck and jerk against the hands, crying up to a God I haven't believed in in years, but no salvation comes. They pin me down to the soft mattress and secure each limb into a restraint. Pull and tug as I might, nothing pulls free. Tears stream down my face, and I toss my head from side to side to clear my vision. I already have so little sight in the mask. Blurred lights shine through the slits, only to be snuffed out with another masked face peering down at me. He takes my mask and jerks it off in a swift movement before tossing it to the ground. His fingers are soft and questing as they smooth the tears from my eyes and off of my cheeks.

"What's this all about then? I knew you'd probably put up a small bit of a fight, but I wasn't expecting you to take on a chunk of the football team."

His words end in a snarl, sending my body huddling into the mattress. I turn to my side to see the four men standing there, hands clasped in front. Their huge shoulders block out most of the people standing on that side. Whimpering, I tug again at my bonds.

"Please. I don't want to die," I whisper, my voice hoarse and cracking.

He throws his head back and laughs, the force shaking the side of the bed he's leaning against. "Whoever said we were going to kill you?" His eyes narrow behind his mask as he turns to stare at a specific spot in the room.

Craning my neck, I try desperately to see, but even if I could, what would be the point? Everyone is in a mask; there's no telling who's in this room with me. Slumping back, I turn my attention to Professor Richards. His steely eyes bore into me, arresting my breath. Gently, he eases off his own mask and sets it down next to the bed. Several robed men start up and walk over to us.

"Your mask!"

"I know."

"You know you can't be without it."

His gaze never falters from mine as he glides his fingertips over my feverish lips. "She's not screaming anymore, is she?" He turns his glare to the masked man.

I can't ascertain his voice, but that doesn't matter now. All that matters is that I'm not going to die, and it seems like Professor Richards will be the one inducting me. Leaning back, I watch his throat work as he murmurs with the man next to him.

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