Read Online House of Judges (House of Royals Book 4) by Keary Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Keary Taylor
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all of this is just a dance,” she explains. She’s so calm and collected about it all. I wonder how much of her immortal life has been spent here in the basement of the castle, managing these girls and boys. “The clients aren’t allowed to touch the stage dancers. Any money they might offer will be split between the employees. You’ll be informed about stage two shortly.”
My heart starts racing as I hear the thumping song begin to wind down. Madame leads me out, back into the dressing room, to another curtained wall, which she pulls back to reveal a hallway.
Down we go, but not very far. The dark hall lightens, and I hear many, many bodies on the other side of a curtain.
Suddenly, two women step through it, barely giving us a side-glance before they walk by.
A voice booms through a speaker system. I don’t understand the words, but I certainly recognize when they announce “Lady Conrath.”
“That’s you,” Madame says. Suddenly, her hands are on my back, and she shoves me through the curtain.
Lights temporarily blind me. Blue and purple laser lights dance around the space. Slowly, more and more of the scene processes through my brain.
Black walls. Dimly glowing lights set along them. The stage I stand on has lights along the edge of it. And down below, there are so many chairs. Booths, tables. A bar lines the back of the big room.
And filling every one of the chairs, is a body.
Men. Women.
Each of them staring at me with lustful eyes.
I process all of this in two seconds. And then they go crazy. Cheering. Hollering. Cat-calls. They go ballistic over my crown. Over the little amount of clothing I wear, and the harsh lights that expose all of me.
A deep beat starts and the tempo of the music picks up. I allow myself to stand there, gaping, for just one second, before a voice hisses from behind me. “Do it, or I’ll have to kill you.” Madame.
So, my eyes still focused on the crowd, I grab the pole with one hand. And I’ve never been stripped down, so exposed, literally and figuratively. I swing my body around the pole, sliding down, keeping it tight between my thighs.
I was a queen just weeks ago.
I was a ruler.
I led a house of over twenty.
And now, I’ve fallen.
I’ve been reduced to a plaything, using my body for the entertainment of others.
My pride got the best of me. It was my downfall. Thinking I could run with the oldest of them.
I may be a House leader, but I still know so little.
I must remember that.
The music thumps, loud and sexual. I twirl. I grind. I bend.
Money flies in my direction. The hollers do not cease. Words are shouted at me, thankfully in German, so I do not understand the disgusting things they are surely yelling at me.
I zone them all out. I pretend they are not here. I let my body take over, setting myself on autopilot.
But this song feels endless.
Never ceasing.
My vampire brain keeps track of the seconds that lead into minutes. Five go by. Surely, the song must end. But then it stretches on to ten minutes. And finally at fifteen, the music begins to wind down.
The announcer comes back on, again speaking words I do not understand. And as the song ends, Madame suddenly steps from the curtain. She takes my hand in hers, holding it high in the air. She says something I do not understand, and even more money is thrown towards us.
I put on a fake smile because as they said, the King has cameras all over this place. I need to be a good little prisoner.
One last statement from Madame and then she turns us, and back into the hallway we go.
“You did well,” she says. “Not the happiest-looking dancer, a little terrified, but the dancing was good enough.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “I always hoped I’d make a good exotic dancer someday.”
To my surprise, she gives me a little smile.
“PHASE TWO IS GOING TO be a little more…difficult for you,” Madame says as we stop back in the dressing room. She crosses to the
My heart starts racing as I hear the thumping song begin to wind down. Madame leads me out, back into the dressing room, to another curtained wall, which she pulls back to reveal a hallway.
Down we go, but not very far. The dark hall lightens, and I hear many, many bodies on the other side of a curtain.
Suddenly, two women step through it, barely giving us a side-glance before they walk by.
A voice booms through a speaker system. I don’t understand the words, but I certainly recognize when they announce “Lady Conrath.”
“That’s you,” Madame says. Suddenly, her hands are on my back, and she shoves me through the curtain.
Lights temporarily blind me. Blue and purple laser lights dance around the space. Slowly, more and more of the scene processes through my brain.
Black walls. Dimly glowing lights set along them. The stage I stand on has lights along the edge of it. And down below, there are so many chairs. Booths, tables. A bar lines the back of the big room.
And filling every one of the chairs, is a body.
Men. Women.
Each of them staring at me with lustful eyes.
I process all of this in two seconds. And then they go crazy. Cheering. Hollering. Cat-calls. They go ballistic over my crown. Over the little amount of clothing I wear, and the harsh lights that expose all of me.
A deep beat starts and the tempo of the music picks up. I allow myself to stand there, gaping, for just one second, before a voice hisses from behind me. “Do it, or I’ll have to kill you.” Madame.
So, my eyes still focused on the crowd, I grab the pole with one hand. And I’ve never been stripped down, so exposed, literally and figuratively. I swing my body around the pole, sliding down, keeping it tight between my thighs.
I was a queen just weeks ago.
I was a ruler.
I led a house of over twenty.
And now, I’ve fallen.
I’ve been reduced to a plaything, using my body for the entertainment of others.
My pride got the best of me. It was my downfall. Thinking I could run with the oldest of them.
I may be a House leader, but I still know so little.
I must remember that.
The music thumps, loud and sexual. I twirl. I grind. I bend.
Money flies in my direction. The hollers do not cease. Words are shouted at me, thankfully in German, so I do not understand the disgusting things they are surely yelling at me.
I zone them all out. I pretend they are not here. I let my body take over, setting myself on autopilot.
But this song feels endless.
Never ceasing.
My vampire brain keeps track of the seconds that lead into minutes. Five go by. Surely, the song must end. But then it stretches on to ten minutes. And finally at fifteen, the music begins to wind down.
The announcer comes back on, again speaking words I do not understand. And as the song ends, Madame suddenly steps from the curtain. She takes my hand in hers, holding it high in the air. She says something I do not understand, and even more money is thrown towards us.
I put on a fake smile because as they said, the King has cameras all over this place. I need to be a good little prisoner.
One last statement from Madame and then she turns us, and back into the hallway we go.
“You did well,” she says. “Not the happiest-looking dancer, a little terrified, but the dancing was good enough.”
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “I always hoped I’d make a good exotic dancer someday.”
To my surprise, she gives me a little smile.
“PHASE TWO IS GOING TO be a little more…difficult for you,” Madame says as we stop back in the dressing room. She crosses to the
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