The Historical Wing of the Midnight Club was a labyrinth of eras, each chamber meticulously designed to transport its guests into a different time of forbidden pleasure and absolute power.
Tonight, I was dressed for the Victorian era.
A tight corset cinched my waist dramatically, pushing my breasts up until they nearly spilled out of the low neckline. The long emerald silk gown had a high slit up the side, revealing my bare thighs with every step. No underwear. No modesty. My hair was pinned in an elegant updo, my lips painted deep red, and a delicate pearl choker circled my throat, a symbol of submission.
The chamber was a lavish Victorian drawing room: heavy velvet drapes, antique furniture, a roaring fireplace, and dim gas-lamp lighting. Five masked “Lords” waited for me, all dressed
