It’s the style of dress that’s the problem. It’s very short. I’m not even sure it will completely cover my butt. It’s more of a top than a dress. The bodice is more conservative, at least, but it won’t matter if my breasts aren’t hanging out when my butt will be. There’s no bra or underwear with the outfit. Does that mean …

I push the thought away. Surely, I can wear underwear with this. I have to.

After staring at the dress for a long time, I force myself to leave and go down for breakfast. I’ll need sustenance to tide me over until tonight.

Mila and Vik are in the kitchen, already eating. Mary sneers at me as I grab my plate of food from her, but I ignore her. I’ve gotten used to it.

We’re all silent as we eat. I know my sisters know something is up, but they won’t ask me about it. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

We spend the day together, watching TV and going out for coffee—with Mikhail's permission—but during all that time, we don’t talk about it. The reason I was able to convince Mikhail to let them stay. There’s an unspoken promise not to ask because I wouldn’t answer anyway. My sisters don’t need to know what happens between Mikhail and me. They don’t need to know what I’m giving up to make them safe.

When seven thirty rolls around, I tell them I need to get ready for tonight. “Mikhail and I are going out. I think it would be best to stay in your rooms for the rest of the night.”

Mila looks confused, while Vik looks resigned.

“Just be safe,” Vik tells me.

“I will be.”

At eight o’clock, I’m in the dress Mikhail chose for me. I was right when I first looked at it—the dress barely covers my butt. I put on a pair of pink underwear, which helps, though the underwear is still slightly visible. The dress doesn’t leave anything else to the imagination. It’s tight and shows off my every curve.

I walk downstairs and meet Mikhail in the foyer. He looks handsome in his white button-down, slacks, and jacket. His eyes look right at my lower body.

“You’re wearing panties,” he says.

“I am.” I tug my dress down slightly, but it’s futile. The dress is staying put, and it’s not going lower.

“I didn’t pick out any panties for you to wear. Take them off.” He doesn’t say it harshly, just matter-of-factly.

“But the dress is too short.”

“That’s exactly why I chose it. I want to be able to reach between your legs at any point tonight and make you come.”

I gulp as my body lights up. A throb flashes right between my legs, and I hate that it happens, but I secretly love that it happens, too.

“So, take them off for me, Sofiya.”

Keeping my eyes locked with his, I slip my underwear down and hand them to him. Mikahil’s eyebrows raise slightly at my initiative, but he doesn’t object as he pockets the panties.

He offers me his hand. “Let’s go.”

Without hesitating, I slip my hand in his.

The club from the outside is nondescript. It looks like any other building—gray and stern. But walking inside, it’s like an entirely new world. Everything is either red, black, or gold. It would normally be an eye-sore, but within the club, it manages to be soft and seductive.

It’s not a normal club with a dance floor. In fact, there’s no dance floor to be seen. There is a bar, though. But what stands out is that in the middle of the room is a stage, and on that stage is a bed.

Next to the stage is a hallway filled with rooms. Windows reveal what’s happening inside the rooms, and what I see shocks me. People tied up. People crawling on their hands and knees. People naked. People getting whipped or spanked. Blindfolds and gags. And a lot of people watching.

Sex. Sex is everywhere. People are having sex against the walls or on couches set up all along the room. It’s wild. I think it’s insane, but the other attendees don’t seem bothered by it at all. In fact, a lot of people seem to be turned on by the voyeurism.

Mikhail holds my hand, letting me look around. A woman walks by me with a gag in her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. Her breasts are pushed up, and I notice the cut of her dress reveals her nipples. A man walks in front of her, tugging her wrists with a rope. I sink in closer to Mikahil, and he wraps his arm around my waist.

The air in the room is both warm and cool—the perfect temperature. I can feel it on my bare skin under my dress. The fabric of my dress lies right on the round part of my butt, exposing the underside of my backside for anyone to see. It’s scary—anyone could touch me. But I don’t think Mikhail would let them.

“What do we do?” I whisper.

“We’ll look around for a while. I want to get you acclimated to everything before we participate in anything. Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me to one of the bedrooms, where a wide window overlooks the scene.

A woman is on her hands and knees, crawling to another woman wearing a leather outfit and carrying a whip. She brings it down onto the back of the woman on her hands and knees.

“That’s a dominatrix,” Mikhail explains. “A female dom.”

“I didn’t know that …”

“That a woman could be like that? You didn’t know anything about BDSM before you met me.”

I blush. “True. I just don’t know how a woman could be in control like that. Why she would want to be.”

“Because, like everyone else here, it turns her on. Let’s keep moving.” We walk to the next bedroom and look through the window.

A man and woman are having sex on the bed, except she’s tied up to it. I quickly avert my eyes. Mikhail places his fingers under my chin and draws my gaze back to the man and woman. “Don’t look away. Make me proud, Sofiya.”

I force myself to watch the couple have sex. The man is rough with his thrusts into her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The longer I watch, the more I feel a twinge within my body. A twinge of arousal.

I gasp at the sensation and look down. My wetness is seeping out and slowly dripping down my upper thigh. I clench my legs together to stop it from happening.

Mikahil’s fingers graze the underside of my butt, making me jump. “Don’t shut your legs, Sofiya.” He taps the back of my upper thighs, and I force my legs apart. He snakes his hand down between my legs, his fingers brushing my inner thigh and touching my wetness.

I hold still. People are walking by, watching the other people in the rooms. A few people—both men and women—glance my way. A man rakes his eyes down to my lower body while a woman does the same.

A woman in stiletto heels and a spandex black outfit approaches us. She speaks in Russian, and Mikhail responds. He doesn’t remove his hand from my inner thigh. I want him to lift it higher and touch me, but I don’t dare move.

“She said you are stunning,” Mikhail explains to me.

“She only knows English?” the woman replies.

“American.”

The woman sneers slightly but then smiles. “Well, she’s still stunning. Do you share?”

“No.”

“Shame.” She looks me up and down. My face is beet red—I can tell from how hot it is. She smiles at me one more time before walking away.

“Who was that?” I ask.