A ripple moved through the crowd. Attention settled like a weight.
Luka palmed my breasts, working the weight, kneading the flesh, then caught a nipple between his thumb and fingers and rolled it hard. Pain snapped through me. I gasped, my back arching despite myself, the sensation collapsing into heat that coiled low in my body.
His masked face hovered close, breath warm against my cheek.
He said nothing.
He didn’t need to.
My arms trembled. The metal supports pressed into my palms, the angle pulling at my shoulders as I fought to hold the pose.
When my elbow dipped—barely an inch—he struck the inside of my thigh. A quick, stinging slap.
“I said hold.”
Each word dropped like a weight onto my skin.
“I’ll tell you when to move.”
I gripped the steel harder, knuckles whitening, elbows locked. Luka’s gaze traveled the full length of me—slow, consuming—pausing on every place I strained to keep control.
He crouched, knife flashing again. This time, he cut the skirt away—one clean slice along the seam. The leather peeled like a shed skin and landed in the lap of someone in the front row.
Luka didn’t look at them.
He looked at me.
He hooked a finger under the thin strap of my thong, snapped it against my skin, then slid the blade beneath it and severed it with a flick. The blade left a line of cold on my skin. The thong peeled away, exposing me to the lights, the air, the gallery.
Luka straightened, the knife still loose in his hand, his other palm settling heavy on my thigh.
“Look at them.” His voice was quiet, controlled—far more dangerous than if he’d raised it.
I lifted my chin, throat tight against the collar. The crowd ringed the pit, still and intent. Masked faces. Bodies angled forward. Attention sharpened to a single point—me.
“They want you,” Luka said softly. “Every last one.”
He slid his hand up my thigh but stopped short, never giving me the contact my body was reaching for.
“This is what you came for. Isn’t it?”
I froze.
Luka waited. The silence stretched. Then he leaned in, his mask brushing my ear.
“I fucking asked you a question.” His volume didn’t change, but his words were scalding.
I couldn’t answer. With the heat, the lights, the weight of their attention pressing in from every direction, my thoughts scattered.
Luka ran two fingers between my thighs and spread me open for the room to see. The sound that escaped me was raw and honest.
“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice carrying just enough to make the words public. “You like this. Being watched. Being wanted by everyone in the room.” His eyes locked on mine through the mask. “Don’t you?”
A fresh flush prickled my skin. There was nowhere to hide from the intense blue of his gaze, from the way he stripped every excuse out of me.
“Answer me,mila.”
My voice crawled up from somewhere raw. “I came for you,” I whispered. “I like…being wanted by you.”