I screamed as the wands kissed against my engorged clit. Wetness rushed out of me in an uncontrollable gush, and Jonathon dropped the wands with a clatter to the floor, arm wrapping around my waist as my hands, my arms, my legs trembled and I went limp.
It wasn't release but possession, and I thrashed in his grip as he hauled me off the ledge of the platform. Auguste hurried out from the wings, and I thought together they would haul me away, but instead he moved to the odd seat, rotating it and bending it in a new direction to make a table.
Jonathon draped me onto the flat side, his arms stiff and shaking, my back to him. The wood was cool and polished, and I sighed against it as the trembles ran through me, back and forth. There was a rush of fabric and then a tear behind me, and my lips curled softly.
"Mon coeur, you're well?" Auguste whispered, brushing damp curls off my face as Mr. Tanner snarled behind me.
I tried to lift my head, but Auguste's hand cupped the back of my neck, pinning me in place. I growled and pouted, and he pinched my skin.
"I'm fine, let me see him."
"Shh. Do as he says," Auguste said.
And then he stepped back, turning and heading for the wings. He was halfway across the stage and Mr. Tanner's thick fingers had just circled my hips, when I saw Auguste pause in place, eyes on the audience. He moved at double speed toward the shadows, and behind me, a low voice like stone rumbled.
"Are you ready to get fucked, little girl?"