An Exquisite Experiment Read online

  The Exquisite Experiment

  Exquisite Collection (Book 1)

  Sappharia Mayer

  © 2021 by Eidyllio Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64893-026-3

  Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-64893-027-0

  Author’s Note

  Dear reader,

  I am so glad you picked up my book, and I hope you enjoy the story it weaves. Please remember, theses books are works of fiction. The timelines are compressed, the interactions are dramatic and characters often jump into things for want of adventure.

  You, dearest reader, live in a reality where the world is often stranger than fiction and a good dominant or submissive is hard to find. When you do find one, it is quickly evident they are imperfect humans who can’t read minds, are less observant than one might prefer, and the interaction with them takes time. Like all things in life, communication is the key to any good interaction. The more authentically open you can be with a partner the more fulfilling the relationship.

  Remember you are in charge of your life. Use your safe word, let others know where you are, know what aftercare looks like for you, use protection and have fun. The goal is to live in a beautiful safe, sane and consensual relationship with all parties pulling their weight. It is my hope you all find your special someone, just like the characters in my books. ~Sappharia

  Warnings & Disclaimers

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  * * *

  Disclaimer:

  Please do not try any new sexual practice, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Plea from the Author

  An Exquisite Agony

  Also by Sappharia Mayer

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The ad was innocent, and I stared at it for what felt like the hundredth time. Ten thousand dollars for two weeks of my life felt doable. Besides, interactive personal explorations sounded interesting.

  So the internal argument had gone for the last four days. A notice of eviction on my door was the last straw to throw me over the edge, I reminded myself as I stared at the plain-looking office building.

  I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The click of my cane was swallowed up in the ambient noise of at least a hundred people. Each one had a band on their arm with a number on it. Some huddled in groups, others sat alone as they hunched over a clipboard. The sight was bizarre, but I understood it.

  “Good afternoon,” a woman behind the tall receptionist desk greeted me.

  “Afternoon. I… um…”

  “You’re here to answer the experiment ad,” she filled in.

  I nodded and smiled.

  “Do you have your invitation?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied and handed her the odd barcode paper which appeared after I’d taken three online quizzes.

  “Thank you, Miss Davenport. Here’s your number. You are required to wear this band on your left arm until informed to take it off. It identifies you as an invitee and your credentials for the buildings. Here are some forms we need filled out. You can do them now or at a later time,” she said as she handed over the packet.

  I looked down at the bundle and nodded.

  “If at any time during the final decision process you are asked to leave, you must return everything. Anything missing out of this bundle, including forms, will incur a thousand-dollar fee.”

  “Wow. You’re serious about getting everything back,” I replied as I picked up the package.

  “Quite,” she replied but smiled up at me. “The first round will be done in a group. Please listen for your number. Good luck to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I turned back toward the room and watched the crowd.

  The last thing I wanted was to make small talk, but I knew better than to appear anti-social. So I made my way to a high-top table, set the package down, and leaned my cane against my leg. Then I pulled out the number.

  “Here’s hoping two six eight is a lucky number,” I muttered as I wrapped the band around the top of my left arm.

  “I guess that depends on what you call lucky,” a male voice said from in front of me.

  “Right now, I call ten thousand dollars in two weeks lucky.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, the money is the draw for you.”

  I shrugged and glanced at his arm.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not your competition,” he said and handed me a bottle of water. “What happened to the leg?”

  “Ruptured Achilles.”

  “Is the story good?”

  “If you’re a dancer, it’s sad and amazing. If you’re not, then it’s just sad.”

  He nodded.

  “The one profession where pain is how you know you’re doing it right.”

  I shook my head.

  “All athletes and artists must feel pain to know they are doing it right,” I replied.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Without pain, you can’t know ecstasy.”

  “Interesting insight, two six eight.”

  I laughed. “Great, so now I’m a number. A faceless embodiment of a possible experiment,” I said and smirked.

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  “Anonymously intrigued.”

  Chapter Two

  “Good afternoon. We have everyone checked in and can begin the process. A couple of administrative notes before we begin. If we choose you, you will have exactly thirty minutes to wrap up your affairs for a minimum of two weeks. You’ll note in the information provided prior to your arrival, this could be extended for up to two months. Is there anyone here who cannot, or would choose not to continue longer than two weeks?”

  Hands went up around the room.

  “Very good. If you will all form a group to the right, that would be splendid. You are now group one. Our attendant will take down your numbers and then lead you through to the next stage.”

  People shuffled around the room. Some moved to make a path while others formed into the group.

  “Is there anyone here, should you make it past the final decision stages, who could stay longer than one full quarter?”

  I scowled at the question. I’
d put everything into storage right before showing up here today. The last of my money paid for a year, and I hoped I would be back at my dance company before payment was due next year. If two weeks paid well, I wondered what additional time would pay. It wasn’t like I was missing anything. The dance company couldn’t afford my physical therapist, and my medical bills, even after insurance, were more than I could fathom. With little thought, I raised my hand.

  “Excellent. Those who could stay for a full quarter, please form a group over here.”

  I smiled as the minuscule crowd worked its way toward me.

  “Looks like I was lucky enough to be in the right place,” I muttered.

  “Here’s hoping you feel lucky after all the decisions are made,” the man across from me replied and, with a slight nod, passed me to walk through the double doors in front of us.

  “Everyone else, please form a group in the center.”

  The mass majority of people formed a group in the center of the room.

  “These three groups will be as important as your number. You’ll see a person coming around with a colored ribbon to attach to your arm band. Group one, your color is red. Group two, your color is green. Group three, your color is yellow. Once you have your colors, please proceed to the room through those double doors. There are refreshments for each group based on your colors. In addition, you’ll be called first by your color then narrowed down by your number, if necessary. Are there any questions?”

  “Great,” I said with a shake of my head. “I think I just volunteered as tribute.”

  “It can’t be that bad. Besides, they’ll feed us and house us. It’s better than where I was thirty minutes before I walked through those doors,” the woman beside me said.

  “Sorry to hear it,” I offered.

  “Don’t be. I’ve made lots of bad decisions. Maybe this one will be a good one.”

  “Let’s hope,” I agreed and forced a smile.

  A young man handed me a green ribbon. I attached it to the arm band and picked up the package of papers.

  “Group two, please proceed forward and enjoy our lounge.”

  Our small group of no more than forty people moved forward through the double doors. On the other side, we were met with tables full of food. Each area was skirted in different colors. Behind the green skirts, every station had an attendant who waited for our approach. For our small group, there were ten tables of food and drink presentations while there were only two red tables which were laid out in a buffet. The yellow tables were a mix of both buffet and service, but compared to the number of people, there would be quite the wait.

  I stared at the differences in offerings. The odd imbalance struck me as both funny and cruel as I approached the drink station.

  “How may I be of service?” the person behind the bar asked.

  “Tonic water with lime, please.”

  “Would you like anything in your tonic?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, thank you. I think I will need my wits about me.”

  They nodded and handed the glass to me.

  Chapter Three

  “Look at this place,” the woman from the lobby said, her plate overflowing. “We’ve got more food and better service than everyone else. Those poor yellow schmucks will be in that line for a long time. Unless their numbers come up before they get food.”

  She laughed and shoved a hunk of meat into her mouth. I nodded.

  All around us, the crowd from the lobby became a crush as people pushed and shoved their way into the room. The group of green tables was set up in such a way to create a slight barrier, and I leaned against the wall. My ankle ached and burned. I closed my eyes as I envisioned the transformation of pain until it abated, taking deep breaths.

  Over the next two hours, according to my phone, the room thinned as they called various numbers.

  “May I have another tonic water?”

  “Of course. You know adding a bit of something to it may help ease a bit of the pain in your leg.”

  “How did you…” I started and glanced down at the cane in my hand. “Ah, obvious, I guess.”

  “Yes, and the fact you wince until you shift your weight. Which happens about every fifteen minutes.”

  “Observant,” I murmured.

  “Yes. As is the expectation,” came the reply as they handed the glass back to me.

  I longed to pull out the prescription bottle in my bag, but along with pain relief came a dullness to the senses. All I could do was pull into myself and block it all out.

  “Green, number two six eight,” the man said from a side.

  I opened my breath and inhaled. The surrounding room was nearly empty. With a hesitant step, I leaned on my cane and stepped forward. Pain screamed up my leg, but I forced myself to ignore it.

  “Have you filled out your paperwork?” he asked as he led me down a long corridor. His steps were slow enough I could easily keep pace without strain, and I inwardly thanked him.

  “No. It seems to me there’s no reason to complete forms if I don’t move forward. Besides, the lack of tables made it more difficult, especially in the crowd.”

  “There was always the floor. You could have sat down there.”

  “If it were important enough, I may have made such a choice, but as there are still unknown paths on the board, I didn’t deem it that high a priority.”

  “I see. You don’t think ten thousand dollars is worth sitting on the floor?”

  The phrasing hit me, and my steps stumbled, but I caught myself.

  “No,” I said with feigned confidence. “If the ten thousand dollars was already on the table, then the decision may or may not change, depending on the floor.”

  “Which type of floor might invalidate such a sum of money?”

  “Well, if the floor contained a poison which would kill me or cause permanent harm upon sitting on it, such would invalidate such a sum as unreasonably small,” I replied.

  “A logical argument. What if the money was on the table but you had to pass a series of tests and the first was filling out the paperwork on a clean floor after you passed?”

  “Depends on the tests. Are they mental or physical? Am I physically capable of filling out the paperwork after them?”

  “That is a good question. One you may soon need to figure out the answer to because we’ve arrived at our destination. From this point forward, you must realize everything is a choice. Should you want something to stop, you need only follow the rules to make it happen. With no signs of such a desire, the action will continue. You may well wish you’d filled out the paperwork before we got to this point; however, you made your choices. For your sake, I hope they are good ones,” he said, punctuating the last words with a slight knock on the door in front of us.

  “Come,” said the voice on the other side.

  We walked through, and I came face to face with the man from the lobby.

  “This is number two six eight from the green group, Sir.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a nod.

  The attendant gave him a slight bow and backed out of the room, then closed the door.

  “Welcome, Lexus Davenport. I’m Dr. Mark McNally, and I will be your evaluator for suitability into the experiment,” he said as he took his seat across from me. “Please have a seat so we can begin.”

  Chapter Four

  I adjusted my weight and took a seat in the chair. The words of the attendant ran through my head as I thought about the pile of paperwork I hadn’t even glanced through.

  “How’s the Achilles? You’re twelve weeks post-op?” he asked, looking down at his tablet.

  “Yes. I started physical therapy a few weeks ago, but the ballet company’s insurance doesn’t cover everything,” I said and stared down at my hands.

  “I’m sure the money would help get you back to a more solvent state.”

  “Yes. Once I get back to dancing, then I can work out the rest.”

  “Is there a prognosis on
dancing?”

  “I’m a dancer, Dr. McNally. The prognosis is to dance,” I said and lifted my head with a sense of pride.

  “This is your third major injury, and you’re late in your career as a soloist.”

  I nodded. “Dr. McNally, with all due respect, I know I’m ‘long in the tooth’ for a dancer, but this, as you so eloquently pointed out, isn’t my first injury and recovery. Now, what questions might I answer for your evaluation? You already know money is a bit of a motivator for me, but I can find other paths if necessity dictates.”

  He chuckled and looked up from his tablet.

  “Independent and spirited,” he said with a nod. “One last question on your injury, and then we’ll move on. Do you think you can keep up with the physical therapy during the experiment?”

  The question echoed one I’d asked myself more than once.

  “It depends on what is involved, but if you are asking about my self-discipline, I’ll remind you I’m a dancer.”

  “Noted,” he said with satisfaction. “Did you fill out the paperwork while you waited?”

  I sighed, sensing a mistake in the making.

  “No. I used my time to abate the pain since there were no chairs.”

  “You could have sat on the floor.”

  “Yes, that was a possible choice, but I did not know when my number would be called. As to the paperwork, if I move forward, then it can be filled out. It is a waste of my time and your paper to do otherwise. Also, it was noted at the time of taking the package that all pieces must be returned should I not move forward. This meant my personal information would be in the hands of an organization in which I was not fit to continue with this process. A lack of efficiency for your organization in the removal of personal information via shredding or incineration, as well as for me because paperwork is tedious when necessary and irritating when it is deemed to be otherwise.”