Vicious Prince (Royal Elite 5)

Watching those girls fall to their knees in front of stronger, bigger, and older men always had me rubbing my thighs.

I’ve had sex before, but I’ve never once had an orgasm or gotten wet enough to make the experience pleasurable. I’ve always chosen older men, at least fifteen years older than me and experienced, and still…nothing.

I was starting to think I was broken beyond repair and that I’d never feel the ecstasy Elsa and Kim keep talking about. I thought the feeling was foreign, just like me.

La Débauche’s scenes brought back some of that faith and the possibility of more.

That’s why I applied to be ‘Debauched’. One night, one stranger, and that’s it. I was rejected two times, but today, I received my acceptance letter.

The greatest policy here is anonymity. The reason I found Richard on the dark web is because he posted a shot of the invitation card in his public profile.

Here, no one knows who you are or where you came from. There are no names, just numbers. No faces, just black masks like the ones from costume parties. All women wear black satin gowns, and all men wear black trousers.

That’s it.

That’s all that’s needed.

As soon as they confirm you’re over eighteen, the sky’s the limit.

I have no idea how they accept people here, but it seems to be a tight process. I don’t even know how I got in. Even with Richard’s referral, it seemed so farfetched at the time, but I still threw in my letter anyway, hoping for something different.

That’s all I’ve been doing my entire life, wishing the shadow weren’t a normal state of mind and that different didn’t actually mean crazy.

Different just means…special.

That’s what Knox and Dad tell me, but the problem lies in believing them.

This club is different. It’s more than different; it’s an open door to many things I never thought were possible.

And now, I won’t only be watching — I’ll participate.

Not exhibition-style, though. I applied for a private session because, well, I might like to watch, but being watched is a different thing altogether. It means being bare, and I don’t like that.

The attendant, wearing a maid’s outfit and a mask, motions at a room. “Through here, Ms 115.”

I walk past her. The room has the same black wallpaper and red carpets. There’s no window like the other rooms I participated in, no bed or sofa, not even a chair.

The attendant reaches her hand out. “Have you filled out the form, Ms 115?”

“Uh…yeah.” I finally release the acceptance letter that has the form attached to it from between my sweaty fingers.

The form is a checklist about what I won’t allow and what I’m good with. I’m not good with anal, flogs, crops, any extreme pain, or being tied down, and that’s it.

I wanted to ask for a thirty or forty-something man, but they didn’t have an age option. However, all I’ve seen so far is older men who know how to handle a woman. La Débauche attracts a specific type of dominant males who have been in this depravity game for far too long.

“Do you want to review it one last time?” she asks.

“I-I’m okay.” Shit. Why the hell am I stammering? I wanted this. It’s my last chance at normal before I pass the point of no return.

She hands me a black blindfold. “As you requested.”

I take it from her with trembling fingers. “Thank you.”

“Please wait for Mr 120 on your knees.” I nod, and she smiles. “I wish you a lovely night.”

And with that, the door clicks closed behind her.

With one last breath, I sink to my knees on the thick red carpet, gripping the blindfold like it’s a lifeline.