I bouncedon the balls of my feet, my hand in Jonathon's as we stood together behind the curtain of the stage.
"If you're nervous—"
"I'm excited," I said, leaning into his side, turning and resting my chin on his shoulder.
He answered with a kiss on my forehead and hummed softly for a moment. "So are we," he said, eyes glowing in the dark.
Auguste had run down backstage during intermission. I was one of two humans in the audience interested in being on stage for the final act, and Auguste had signed me up to go first as Jonathon held me in the box and explained what we'd do together. He offered constant reassurances that I could stop at any time, and I held my tongue through it all.
"And you know that—"
"If I want to stop an act I will say so or tap your thigh with my left foot. If I want to be off stage, I'll say so too," I recited, nipping the corner of his jaw. "I trust you, sir. Both of you. I want this."
Jonathon sighed, and on the other side of the curtain, the crowd began to hush and settle. "I worry you are too sweet to say no to us sometimes. And then you remind me that by some miracle, you are simply the woman who wants the same things we do. Even at our most depraved," he said, finishing with a chuckle.
I didn't get a chance to answer. Behind me, a massive man that I suspected was one of the were-bears based on his excessively luscious dark hair, called to us softly.
"House lights are going down."
"Good luck," Auguste whispered from farther back. "Have fun!"
Perhaps it was stage fright, or maybe I was even more excited than I'd realized, because for a moment, I couldn't breathe, my eyes fixed to the red glow of the spotlight on the curtain. Jonathon's fingers tightened around mine, and I turned to him, his gaze green and narrowed.
"Be a good girl for me," he said, words grinding with the promise of his other half.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I released a sigh as the stagehand began to pull the curtain open. "Yes, sir."
Jonathon stepped forward, his firm grip on my hand steadying me as he led me out to center stage.
An elaborate kind of seat waited for me there, something like a doctor's chair, but a little more upright in order to present me to the audience with a ledge for me to brace my feet against. There was a small table with a wooden box at the side, which Jonathon had already told me had his device inside.
I was in the nice dark blue shoes Auguste had picked out, and my now torn and soiled chemise, the corset still laced over it. As Jonathon drew me into the spotlight, his own chin held high and shoulders straight—none of the shy and gentle doctor I knew so well—my mouth went dry. Heat flushed up my cheeks, my stomach turning suddenly.
Was this shame? Could I find the words to change my mind already and ask to return to the cool shadows of backstage?
My eyes skidded to my right, blind to the audience for a moment, and then slowly, their faces appeared behind the brilliant glare of the spotlight. Just the first few rows. But every pair of eyes was focused on me. Men and women with hungry gazes, strange creatures in the dark who gazed openly at my breasts, licked their lips, and leaned forward.
They wanted to watch me tortured and teased by my doctor. Wanted to see me come apart and cry out for more. This wasn't just about the thrill of watching a girl hunted by a beast or captured and forced into bliss. This performance was about a monster being accepted and desired by a human. Being able to touch and satisfy them.
Auguste had spent decades without a human lover he could feed from. Mr. Tanner was still too wary to let me look at him. Amon thought he had to buy my affection. Ezra expected he'd have to steal it.
My nerves evaporated as Jonathon guided me into place in front of the seat, stood behind me, his breath soft against the back of my neck, and raised my arms at my side as if we were in the middle of a physical examination.
In that moment, I was wanted not just by the man behind me or Auguste in the wings, but by every pair of eyes in the audience. I swayed a little with the force of it, the heady dizzy arousal that hit with just that one little thought.
"Ready?" Jonathon whispered in my ear.
I nodded, just a little, and his hand wrapped firmly around the back of my neck, turning me quickly, the fingers of his other hand ripping quickly through the laces of my corset to undress me.
My breath hiccuped, warmth pooling richly in my cunt. My eyes drifted to the wings, and my lips curled at the shadow of Auguste, watching and admiring me. The laces hissed and scratched as they were torn free, and I let out a moan that was almost sexual as I finally caught a full breath. There was a feminine sympathetic chuckle from the audience, and I flushed with pleasure at the reminder of the eyes watching me.
Jonathon tossed the corset to the floor and then quickly gathered up the hem of my chemise. "Hands up," he ordered, and my arms rose quickly over my head for him to drag the fabric up and off. "Very good. Step back." His hand on my hip steadied me as I wobbled. "Bend forward."
I wet my lips with my tongue, staring at the chair in front of me as I slowly bent, knowing what that would put on display for the theater, my cheeks flooded with heat.
"Farther," Jonathon said, his voice dark.
I swallowed and bent until my breasts touched the stocking silk on my legs and I could see the faces gazing at my bared sex. A warm hand cupped my ass, sliding down, and my eyes fell shut, a shuddering breath released as Jonathon ran his fingertips over the crease of my ass, all the way to my clit.
"Stand. Turn." Jonathon stepped in behind me, the texture of his shirt almost abrasive on my skin with how hyperaware of every touch I was. "Did I tell you to keep quiet?" he whispered in my ear.
His hands reached around me to cup and weigh my breasts, and I let my head fall back to his shoulder, an eager moan rising from my throat, turning into a strangled squeal as he pinched my nipples to sharp peaks.
"Spread your legs. Farther." He was all snap and command, impersonal, but I knew him, trusted him, and it was as if we were playing our roles. Him the professional doctor, and me the patient.
I whimpered, Jonathon cozy against my back as I stretched my legs wide. His hands stroked up and down over my stomach for a moment before reaching to spread the lips of my sex. One finger circled my clit as another plunged inside of me, and I cried out as loud as I wanted, hips rocking into the touch.
Crack!
"Ah!" I stiffened at the slap over my clit, eyes widening, audience laughing softly.
"Behave," Jonathon snarled, loud enough for the audience to hear.
I shuddered and tried to hold still as he began to touch again, my thighs shaking with the urge to buck and rock and beg for more.
"Good girl," he murmured before pulling away, fingers shining with my arousal. "Take your seat."