The Femme Fatale’s Curse Ch. 04

Literotic asexstories – The Femme Fatale’s Curse Ch. 04 by Flybynite1892,Flybynite1892
Hi Everyone – Been a minute since I updated this story. So quick recap: Our (dickish) hero, Jace, a 1920s private detective, is under a hypnotic curse to follow orders. A rival detective – Eva – has swooped in and used The Curse to steal his biggest case and turn him into her private plaything. The case led them to a femdom speakeasy where Eva has turned Jace over to the performers in exchange for them telling her key clues to the case. This chapter is about them using Jace as a centerpiece for a public humiliation show in the speakeasy while Eva works on solving his case. Please check out “The Femme Fatale’s Curse” chapters one through three for backstory!

I try to let you know where we have plot and where we have just straight sex so that you can skip to where you want to go, but this is pretty even throughout. It leans way, way, *way* in on public humiliation and femdom themes. Everyone here is of course older than 18 years old. And yes, it’s definitely FANTASY, not real life…but let’s hope it’s filthy fucking hot fantasy.

***

Mistress Silvera led Jace along the right wall of the speakeasy, passing the dance floor where a few couples danced to a fast-paced swing number, to a side-door, well-disguised behind a fold of scarlet curtain. The click-clack of her gleaming heels had a disconcerting way of making themselves heard over the sound of the jazz band in the background.

She opened the side door, and again Jace found himself in a dark, narrow hallway, lit only by a few gas lamps spaced few and far between. There were doors back here too — no doubt leading to storage rooms for bootlegged liquor or a million and one other illegal products and wicked deeds — but Mistress Silvera didn’t seem interested in any of them. Instead, she led him — faster than Eva had; the collar tugged into his neck as she did — into a much larger room full of dusty wooden sets and hangers strewn with glittering costumes and masks and props. The swing band was louder here, and Jace realized they were directly backstage.

This realization didn’t hold his attention for long, though, because there was a half-naked woman in the center of it all, leaning against a set piece and tightening one garter across the top of one toned, delicious-looking thigh.

Jace winced as his hardening dick put pressure on the humbler still holding his balls captive.

The woman gasped as soon as she saw Jace and shielded her bare chest from view with her right arm and a sweep of her dark red hair.

“Silvera,” she snapped. “What the hell is this?”

Silvera laughed. “Sorry Molly,” she said. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you. Don’t you have a dressing room though?”

Molly scowled. She even made that look hot though.

“Cora kicked me out of it,” she said. “Claimed seniority and all that. Called me a serving girl too, just to rub it in.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably going to be the last time that happens,” Silvera said.

“Tonight you get to move up in the world, Molly. You’re done serving tables and scrubbing toilets and taking orders from all the performers. You’ll be a performer after tonight. And you’re going to do it because of our little captive here.”

Mistress Silvera walked around Jace — still on his hands and knees — and sat on his back, crossed her legs at the knee. Jace winced. Mistress Silvera tightened her grip on his leash, winding it around her wrist. It forced his head up.

Molly still had her chest covered and she narrowed her eyes — heavy with mascara and eyeliner — in suspicion.

“Is this another hazing thing from you performing girls?” Molly asked. “I fucking swear, I’m *not* getting tricked into taking everyone’s chamber pots out again at the end of the night or begging customers to let me lick their shoes so I can leave work.”

Mistress Silvera laughed.

“Yeah, we were pretty mean to you in particular weren’t we?” She asked. “You were good for business, Moll. Such incredible beauty and such incredible submissiveness. Can you really blame us?”

She paused, snickered again, but Molly didn’t say anything.

“But no, this isn’t a trick,” Mistress Silvera said. “Tonight you dominate. I promised I’d get you in as a performer didn’t I, babe?”

Molly blinked. Her expression, her body, her mere presence in the room did nothing to calm Jace’s hard dick down.

“You did,” Molly said.

“Of course I did,” Mistress Silvera said. “And after tonight the only person you’ll have to answer to is me.”

She stood from Jace’s back and crossed the floor to Molly, then took the serving girl’s chin in her gloved hand with a stern grip, raised her face, and kissed her.

“I keep my promises, my wild Irish rose,” Mistress Silvera said, staring down at Molly and brushing a lock of red hair behind Molly’s ear. “After Lady O’Leary sees what you do tonight, you’ll never have to clean another toilet, I promise.”

Molly still looked suspicious, but she smiled. Jace got the feeling that maybe she kind of liked being ordered to clean chamber pots or lick customers’ shoes. At least when Lady Silvera demanded she do those things.

But then she looked at him with the eyes of an apex predator sizing up the weakest, sickest member of the herd.

“So who is this?” Molly asked, still shielding herself from view.

“This,” Mistress Silvera said, “is your submissive for the night. You can do whatever you’d like to him. *Mackica* brought him to us. He’s cursed to follow orders. You remember I told you I’d find you a hypnosis-themed routine for you, right?”

*Mackica* Jace thought. His mind recognized the foreign term. He’d heard it somewhere.

He just couldn’t place it.

“I remember,” Molly said, still guarded, as they both looked at Jace now.

Molly smiled. “Most of the male submissives are a little bit better…endowed down there.”

“I think the crowd will get a kick out of that though,” Mistress Silvera said. “Plus, look at how compliant he is.”

She snapped her fingers.

“Find Molly the white and gold corset over there, bitch boy,” Mistress Silvera said.

“And keep your eyes on the floor the whole time; I want her to be able to put it on without feeling you looking at her the whole damn time.”

Jace tried to stand — as best he could, with the humbler cutting into the backs of his thighs and pinching his balls — and headed for the coat racks in the back of the vast room. He had no idea how he knew that’s where the corset in question would be, but he *did* know.

Behind him, Molly laughed, a bright, bell-like sound. He kept his eyes on the floor, glad his face was turned away from Mistress Silvera and Molly so they couldn’t see the blush across his cheeks.

“You said he belongs to *Mackica*?” Molly asked, as Jace sifted through the clothes on the rack, looking for the corset.

“He does,” Mistress Silvera said. “Although I hear it was actually Countess von Bokken who put the hypnotic curse on him.”

“Mmmmm I’m so glad I never ran into her,” Molly said, as Jace’s hands — independent, it seemed, of his brain — found the white and gold corset Mistress Silvera had mentioned. “You girls were mean enough to me during my hazing.”

“We were,” Mistress Silvera said, and as Jace turned around he saw that Mistress Silvera had a lock of Molly’s scarlet hair twirled around one finger. “But I think you’re going to find, Molly, that inflicting pain and humiliation is a hundred times more satisfying when you’ve experienced it yourself.”

She kissed Molly on the cheek.

“Maybe you could subject him to some of the same depravities we put you through, sweetheart?”

“I’d like that,” Jace heard Molly say as he handed her the corset; his eyes stayed on the floor.

He heard Mistress Silvera kiss her again.

“Good girl,” she said. “Lady O’Leary was hoping for some crowd participation too. Do you think you could work that in?”

Jace could hear her lacing up the corset at Molly’s back as she spoke.

Molly giggled.

“I think I have some ideas,” she said.

“Good,” Mistress Silvera said.

She turned Molly around and kissed her again.

“I’ll leave you with the bitch boy,” Mistress Silvera said. “Like I said, you can do whatever you want with him. I’m going to introduce you to the audience in 10 minutes or so.”

“Capital,” Molly said, and looked down at Jace, still on his hands and knees. “I’m sure we can entertain for a bit.”

Mistress Silver laughed and Jace heard her heels click-clack behind him out of the dressing room.

Molly sighed once she heard the door close. Then she put her elbows on her knees, reached for Jace’s chin, and turned his face toward hers. Her dark eyes looked almost sorrowful in the dimness.

But then a cruel smile dashed across her lips. It did nothing to take away from her beauty — the high cheekbones, the dark eyes, the cascade of her red hair across her collarbones all seemed sharpened by that evil grin.

“Mmm, I think I can have some fun with you,” she said. “What do you say, bitch boy? You want to see how the crowd takes it?”

Jace wanted to say no. He desperately wanted to say no.

But then Molly snapped her fingers and he felt himself nodding.

“Yes,” he said.

Molly giggled. “I do have to say, this hypnosis curse thing works better than I thought it would.”

She stood hands, on her hips.

“God, it’s good to be the one giving orders finally,” she said. “All right. Let’s get you out of everything.”

She undid the leash from the collar, then slipped the collar over Jace’s head. Then she undid the humbler. Jace winced as it came off and blood rushed back into his balls.

Molly laughed.

“Good to get that off?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She slapped him across the face. Hard.

“Yes mistress?” She asked.

Jace winced because she had her hand raised again.

“Yes Mistress,” he said.

And she didn’t even have to snap her fingers to make him say it. Just like Eva didn’t have to snap her fingers to make him worship her feet under the table before Mistress Silvera showed up.

Jace’s stomach turned over.

“Good boy,” Molly said, and put two fingers beneath his chin, lifted his face.

She was breathtakingly beautiful. The corset framed her body perfectly and drove the eye toward her short skirt, which only fell to the middle of her stocking-clad thighs. She, too, wore a pair of strappy sandals — similar to Eva’s — but Molly’s were closed at the toe.

Jace swallowed hard. The version of himself that had existed before Eva had kidnapped him would have fucked Molly’s brains out.

Now he was her plaything, and her stepping stone to performer status.

“I’m told you’re Jace Falcon, the private detective we’ve all heard about,” Molly said. “I think the crowd out there would be interested in knowing that. Do you think we should tell them?”

Jace did not think they should tell the crowd he was, in fact, Jace Falcon. The thought made him sick. But Molly didn’t let him speak.

“You know, and it also sounds like *Mackica* – or, sorry, I guess you know her as Eva — was working with you on some body worship,” Molly said, and smiled, a gleam in her eye. “Feet, ass, that kind of thing. Maybe the crowd out there would be interested in knowing that too?”

Still Jace couldn’t speak. Molly laughed. It would have been a beautiful laugh, had he not known what prompted it, what thoughts might very well be going through her head right now.

“And it sounds like the band is finishing up,” she said, and snapped her fingers. “I’m going to go out there and get the crowd ready. You are going to stand in that corner over there until I call you onstage.”

She pointed to a corner behind him and snapped. Jace felt himself stand and move in that direction. His hands placed themselves behind his back — just above his ass — as he faced the wall.

“Good boy,” Molly said, behind him, and smacked him hard on the butt.

Jace winced. He hadn’t expected that.

“Silvera and I are going to get things started and then I’ll command you to step onstage,” she whispered in his ear from behind him, hands toying with his hair. “Until then, you can wait back here.”

She gave his balls a hard squeeze. Jace yelped, hating himself for it. Molly laughed and gave him another pat on the ass.

“I think I’m going to like this dominating thing just fine,” she said.

Jace heard her footsteps fade away. Not long after that, the swing band finished up its number with a flourishing drumroll. Jace heard footsteps on the stage after that, still audible over the crowd’s excited chatter.

“Good evening everyone,” Mistress Silvera said. “I hope you’re all having a rip roaring Saturday night out there?”

A cheer went up from the crowd.

“We’ve got something special planned for you for our next number,” Mistress Silvera said. “Some of you might recognize Ms. Molly here as one of your favorite servers.”

A ripple of laughter shot through the crowd. Then Jace heard Molly’s voice.

“Hi everyone,” she said. “Looks like you’re going to get to see the dominant side of me tonight. I’ve been working a little bit on my hypnosis skills…”

Here there was a splash from a set of chimes in the band.

“And I think we’ve got a real treat for you tonight,” she said. “It’s nice not to be the one taking orders anymore.”

Another round of laughter from the crowd.

“In my adventures in hypnosis, though, I came across someone you might recognize,” she continued. “Someone who has a bit of a reputation around here. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to announce to you that I hypnotized Jace Falcon himself, private detective.”

Jace wanted to be sick. Molly snapped her fingers and he turned, his feet carrying him through the thick curtain and onto the stage.

He couldn’t see the crowd because of the stage’s lights, but he could hear them, and they burst into laughter when he showed up onstage.

“Well would you look at that,” Molly said, and turned to look at him in mock surprise, hands on her hips. “Here I told him to strip naked and come out when I snapped my fingers and I guess it worked!”

The crowd laughed again.

“Well,” Molly said, and turned to him, hands still on her hips. “What should we do with you, Jace Falcon, private detective? On your knees, by the way.”

She snapped, and Jace felt himself bend at the knees in front of Molly. The crowd gave an appreciative “ooh.”

“Good boy,” she said, and then she turned back to the crowd. “What do you say, bitch boy? Want to show them some of what we’ve been working on?”

Jace’s stomach plummeted. The crowd cheered and applauded; he heard more than a few catcalls.

“Hmmm,” Molly said, as the drummer played a taunting shuffle on the cymbals. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor of the stage; Jace put his elbows on the ground as well. Then she sat on the small of his back much like Mistress Silvera had backstage. She launched into whatever story she’d cooked up for the crowd’s amusement, just as Lady Silvera suggested.

“See, the thing I think you fine ladies and gents should know tonight is that this little hypnosis deal came about because of a bet between myself and Jace Falcon here,” she said as she gave him a smack on the ass, which the microphone picked up loud and clear. “And Jace didn’t think a woman specifically could hypnotize him.”

The boos and the cheers were more or less mixed this time. Molly laughed.

“Hey now, hey now, I did win the bet, so there’s nothing to get too upset about,” Molly said, and laughed again. “But seeing as I had Mr. Falcon under my control and he was hypnotized to do everything I said, I figured I’d ask him some questions about what gets his engine going. And you know what he said to me?”

The crowd was silent now, except for the clink of a few glasses and a few whispers. Molly paused a moment, enjoyed the suspense.

“He was no gentleman, I’ll tell you that much,” she said, and gave him another playful slap on the ass. “He told me he likes his whores submissive and slutty and when they knew when to hit the highway!”

Mock outrage from the crowd with a few boos peppered in.

“Quite barbaric, I agree,” Molly said. “So I figured I would teach him a bit of a lesson tonight, isn’t that right?”

She yanked his hair to pull his head up and then snapped her fingers.

“Speak,” she said.

Jace opened his mouth, but instead of words, he only heard himself bark, doglike. The audience burst into laughter again.

“Whoops wrong command,” Molly said, and offered a stage-giggle. “It’s just difficult to keep track when you have them *this* hypnotized, you know?”

She snapped her fingers again.

“At your command, Mistress,” Jace heard himself say.

“Well there you have it, folks,” Molly said. “What do you say? Want to help teach my hypnotized boy here a lesson tonight?”

There was a cheer and a round of applause.

“Oh I think you can do better than that, ladies and gents,” Molly said. “He’s going to do literally anything we command him to tonight! This is a show for the ages! Let’s hear it!”

This time the applause and the cheers were deafening in the enclosed basement room. Molly stood up from his bare back; only then did he realize she’d been getting wet from this whole display.

“All right bitch boy,” she said, and gave him a much harder smack on the ass this time. “Go find an ass to lick. I’m going to give you three minutes, and there’ll be some real punishment if you don’t. And folks…”

Molly said into the microphone above the rising laughter.

“Make sure he begs for it properly,” she said. “I don’t want him getting off easy now. You should be satisfied with that begging.”

The band swung into a teasing, lilting number as Jace tried to stand but found he couldn’t; instead he had to crawl down the stairs to the dancefloor below. A spotlight he hadn’t noticed before followed him as he made his way across it — as fast as he could — toward a row of tables on the opposite end of the room from where Eva and Lady O’Leary sat. He didn’t need them any more involved in this than they already were.

A table of women sat near the dance floor, dressed in short-skirted dressed bedazzled with sequins. One of them was smoking, but the other two only held drinks. One — whose blond hair shimmered in the spotlight as it panned across to the table — looked up, set her drink down, and smiled as Jace approached. The spotlight glinted against her glinting green dress.

“One minute gone,” Molly called from the stage over the music, to a ripple of applause.

“Well look at you,” the woman in the green dress said with an amused raise of her eyebrows. “What could you possibly want?”

Jace looked up at her from next to her feet, clad in shimmering green heels to match her dress.

“Please may I…may I serve…may I serve your ass,” he stammered unsure of what to say.

The table of women threw their heads back and laughed. So did the other tables and booths nearby, within earshot.

“That looked a bit lackluster, bitch boy,” Molly called from the stage. She’d taken the microphone out of the stand and had paced over in the direction of the table where the three women sat. “My dear lady, I can’t imagine you’re satisfied with that?”

The woman in the green dress laughed. “Absolutely not.”

“I didn’t think so,” Molly said, and gave a dramatic sigh. “Well bitch boy, you know what to do. Clock’s ticking.”

“A little more formal this time, I think,” the woman in the green dress said with a sly smile.

“Please…please my lady may I…may I please serve you,” Jace began. “Serve your –”

“Delia you should try the snapping thing,” one of the other women at the table said. “See what you can make him do.”

The woman in the green dress — Delia — cackled at the thought.

“Let’s try it,” she said, and spit on the floor. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed at the spot.

“Lick it up,” she said.

Jace ground his teeth against the command but it didn’t work; he bent under the table and strained to lick up the alcohol she’d spat on the floor, which required him to put his ass higher up as he did; he felt the spotlight hot on his bare skin.

Then he felt her feet on his back as she kicked them up.

The crowd was the rowdiest it had been all night; the laughter seemed to shake the floor itself as Jace put his tongue on the floorboards. There were catcalls too, and a mocking few notes from the trumpet. The other two women at the table were cackling while he did; one of them accidentally kicked him in the face.

“Two minutes gone,” Molly called, soft and teasing, from the stage.

The crowd “ooohed” in anticipation.

“I think I should let him go,” Delia said from above him.

“Don’t,” said the one who had urged her to try hypnosis herself; her legs were directly in front of Jace below the table.

“Nah, I think I will,” Delia said, and snapped her fingers; relief flooded Jace’s veins as he crawled out from beneath the table and she removed her feet from his back. “You better work on that begging though.”

Jace felt himself nod and then turn, heading deeper into the darkened bar area. Another man and a woman sat in a booth behind the table where Delia and her friends now watched his retreating bare ass.

The woman in the booth blew him a kiss and shook her head, then laughed; the man gave him a pitying smile and swirled the whiskey in his highball glass.

“Sorry honey,” she called above the excited chatter all around them. “I don’t think my man would like you worshiping my ass very much.”

She did, however, reach out and give him a hard spank with her gloved hand as he crawled past.

Jace kept going. He wanted nothing more than to keep his gaze on the floor — to avoid the gleaming eyes and teasing smiles of the people in the booths and at the tables he passed, but he needed to see who might be willing to let him worship their ass. The crowd seemed to have bought into Molly’s game; a number of people just shook their head and laughed as he approached.

Away to his left, the bartender — previously at least partly sympathetic — now sat atop the bar, swinging her denim-clad legs, a triumphant smile plastered on her lips as she watched Jace crawl by. He swallowed hard and wondered if —

Yep. Carmen and her man — dressed in the suit and fedora — still sat at the bar. Carmen had her legs crossed at the knee, showing off those mind-melting leather boots, and was leaning back against the man, who had taken the opportunity to cup one of her ample breasts as she did. They both grinned as he approached, and now he really couldn’t keep eye contact; he looked at the floor and heard them both laugh.

“Hey bitch boy,” another woman’s voice said from their direction though. Jace looked up in time to see Carmen give the woman sitting next to her a playful punch in the shoulder.

“You’re so mean, Annette,” Carmen said, but laughed as she said it. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“That’s right, I was talking to you,” Annette said, ignoring Carmen next to her. She was dressed as a laborer — in denim pants and a shirt — not in the dressier clothes everyone else seemed to be wearing. A cruel beauty graced her features, all high cheekbones and arched eyebrows. “I think I could use some ass worship. Just finished a 12-hour shift out in this heat and I think your tongue up my sweaty ass would feel great.”

Many of the people at the bar burst into fresh laughter at this; some — like the bartender — actually clapped.

“Two-and-a-half minutes gone,” Molly called from the stage. “Ladies and gents, he’s only got 30 seconds left!”

Jace swallowed hard. He could feel Carmen’s eyes on him now, sensed her smile and that of the man she was with too.

The man who had beaten him out for Carmen’s affections. He couldn’t think of anyone less he’d rather humiliate himself in front of than Carmen and her man.

He didn’t have time to try to find someone else though, and especially not when the crowd seemed to want to see him eat Annette’s ass.

“Please, please my lady,” he said, unsure of whether that was formal enough or what she wanted. “Please may I worship your ass? Please?”

“Really?” Annette asked, titling her head a bit and seeming to enjoy the spotlight on both of them, as well as Carmen and her man in the background. “My sweaty, filthy ass? After the day I’ve had? Mmm, it does sound delectable, I’ll give you that.”

“Fifteen seconds left,” Molly said from the stage.

The crowd let out another “oooooh.”

Annette smiled down at Jace. “I don’t know,” she said. “What would you do? Tell me.”

More cheers and catcalls at this.

“I…I’d lick your ass for you as long as you like,” Jace said, face burning with shame that had nothing to do with the spotlight’s head and everything to do with Carmen’s gaze. His heartbeat had quickened though, aware he was almost out of time.

“All that sweat?” Annette asked.

“Yes,” Jace said before he could stop himself. “Anything you want.”

“Ten seconds,” Molly called out. “Let’s count them down folks! Ten, nine, eight…”

The crowd picked up the countdown as Annette shrugged and hopped off the bar stool then turned, lowered her pants, grabbed the back of Jace’s head, and forced it between her ass cheeks.

The cheers and the laughter were deafening now, but they couldn’t block out the smell and taste of Annette’s ass. She was not lying about it being sweaty. The pungent reek of it overpowered his senses; before he could stop himself he pulled his tongue back.

“Excuse me?” Annette asked, and pulled his face from her ass, shot him a glare that would’ve withered flowers. “Do you know how to properly lick an asshole?”

The crowd laughed at this, but Jace only heard part of it because she slapped him across the face. Hard enough to make his ears ring.

“Open your mouth,” she told him, then snapped.

Jace opened his mouth.

“Tongue out,” she said. “Up and down, quickly. Like the fucking dog you are. I want you to taste every inch of my ass.”

Jace felt his tongue comply, moving as fast as it could.

“Good boy,” Annette said. “So you *do* know how to lick an asshole when you want to. You just don’t *like* to.”

Laughter from the crowd.

Then, it happened.

The movement was quick enough that Jace almost missed it. Annette bent ever-so-closer to Jace’s face, and whispered “tongue up” — under cover of the crowd’s laughter — and snapped in his ear.

Jace lifted his tongue; he saw — just for a split second — the glimmer of the very small key she put into his mouth, felt it beneath his tongue.

“For Molly,” she whispered into his ear, although not in a sexy way.

In an urgent way.

“Hold it for her until you get on stage,” she continued, and then snapped in his ear.

Then she stood, grabbed him by the hair again, and shoved his face back into her sweat-slick ass.

“How’s he doing?” Molly asked from the stage.

“Got some learning to do,” Annette called back, and laughed. “I think I might have to send him back to you for some more training. He’s a bit of a bad dog.”

Holding the key beneath his tongue only made licking Annette’s ass harder. Against his will, Jace tried harder though. Annette reached behind her and pushed his face further between her reeking ass cheeks. Jace coughed, struggled for air, and breathed in the stink of her sweaty ass — breathed in some of her ass sweat too — but couldn’t get a full breath.

“He might need some smothering training too,” Annette said, and cackled along with the crowd. “He seems like he’s struggling a bit here.”

Jace was; his chest burned and his ears rang; he clawed at the bar stools nearby and came up against Carmen’s leather boot. He needed to breathe.

Annette pushed him harder into her ass for a few more seconds and then released him.

“Hmmmm,” Molly said. “Well, maybe you should send him back up here and we can see what other tricks my dog actually knows. I *will* be adding ass worship to the list of things to practice, by the way.”

“Back up there,” Annette said, then snapped her fingers and slapped him on the ass.

Jace sat back on his heels and chanced a glance in Carmen’s direction.

She was still smiling, but she had her eyes narrowed.

As if she suspected something.

“Give him a few smacks on the ass as he crawls on back up here, folks,” Molly said. “And feel free to spit on him to spill a drink or two or give him a kick as well. I kind of find myself doing all those things to him sometimes.”

Jace felt Carmen’s boot against his ass as he made his way past her; someone else spat on his back as he crawled, eyes on the floor now, the key still beneath his tongue.

He was returning the opposite curve of the circular bar, the side on which Eva and Lady O’Leary sat. They weren’t there when he passed the booth however; a new pair of women were. One of them — her cheeks full — spat a mouthful of gin onto him as he passed. Another delivered a kick to Jace’s balls that bent him double, even as he stayed on his hands and knees. The crowd gave a cheer.

“Awwe,” Molly said from the stage. “Looks like being Jace Falcon, private I, isn’t the easiest thing in the world anymore folks. Give him some love to help him get back up here.”

There was a smattering of applause but mostly just more laughter and catcalling. Jace’s hands and knees now pulled him across the scarred dancefloor and up the stairs to the stage.

He found he couldn’t lift his gaze from her close-toed sandals, their sequins winking at him in the stage lights.

Molly knelt in front of him and drilled holes into his gaze with those dark, deep eyes.

She smiled, which terrified Jace, all things considered.

“Well,” she said, into the microphone she held to her lips. “I do give credit where credit is due. And my little pet here did find an ass to worship, so I guess I can forego the punishment I had planned. But.”

Here she paused and stood.

“There are other things he is better at than ass worship,” Molly said, and stepped out of her shoes. “I mean, I told you ladies and gents this hypnosis deal worked, right?”

Right away, Jace could smell them. They didn’t smell like Eva’s feet and shoes — less vinegary, maybe a little more cheesy — but the smell of slick leather was the same.

They were also a little more worn down than even Eva’s shoes. There were dark foot prints on the insteps from where Molly had walked for what looked like at least a year. The soles were worn down too, their tread all but gone, replaced by the dirt of the city. He was willing to bet she’d never washed them.

“He’s a great shoe-cleaner,” Molly said, then bent and scooped up her shoes and held them up for the audience.

“I’m sure y’all can see these are a bit worn down,” she said, standing on the stage barefoot; Jace could still smell her bare soles as she stood on tip-toe in front of him in the stage’s hot lights. “He’s going to make all that dirt disappear though! A bit of a magic trick for you ladies and gents.”

The crowd cheered; Molly turned and set the shoes back in front of him. Jace swallowed hard at the smell.

In the relative silence of the expectant theater, Molly snapped her fingers.

“Lick,” she said, and pointed to her shoes, then seemed to think about it, as Jace put his face closer to those reeking, leather sandals.

Jace put his tongue on the inside of one sandal — trying to keep the key in his mouth as well — and winced at both the taste and the smell. He squinted his eyes shut.

Before them, in the darkness, the crowd gave a mocking “ooooh” and a few applause.

Jace tried to keep his nose from touching the inside of Molly’s shoe, but he couldn’t help it; the smell was strong and kept his eyes watering.

Then he felt her foot on the back of his head — grinding his face into the shoes — and heard the crowd respond with a roar of approval.

He gagged, and the miniscule key tumbled from beneath his tongue. Even in the still-noisy theater, he could hear it tumble down the instep of her left sandal and into the closed toe.

“Be a good boy and keep at it,” Molly said from above him, her foot on his neck now.

“There’s a lot of dirt and sweat for you to clean out there. Maybe we can move onto my feet next.”

The crowd laughed.

“Bet you all would like to see that!” Molly said. “How my little bitch boy cleans feet too? Maybe we could send him around to you all and do the same thing, see how he does?”

The swing band picked up again and Molly turned back to the audience and laughed.

“Well, maybe we can work on that during the intermission, eh, folks?” She asked. “Looks like my bitch boy and I have to get off stage, but trust me, we’ll be back! Maybe my shoes will be clean by then.”

The crowd burst into mixed applause and laughter as the swing band reached a crescendo and the curtain descended over the stage, plunging Molly and Jace into relative darkness.

She waited until they were out of view before she grabbed him by the chin and looked him in the eyes and lifted his face to hers.

“Up,” she said, and pulled him to his feet.

Then she bent, grabbed her shoes, and dumped the small key from Anette into her hand.

“I’m going to protect you,” she said. “And so I’m sorry, but I’m going to keep using The Curse on you too.”

She snapped in his ear.

“Follow me. And fast.”

Then she turned and fled — still barefoot — in the opposite direction from the dressing rooms.

The crowd’s applause hadn’t even died out yet.