by Joey Hill
One of the side benefits of this. I can torment my lady until she’ll do anything to be fucked by her Master.
“Gods above, I’d love to see him go toe-to-toe with another alpha at one of our get-togethers,” Tara offered. Throughout the performance, the female vampire had moved between vantage points, enjoying the pump of Liam’s ass, the writhing of Seanna’s hips. At one point, she’d stepped in to caress Seanna’s quivering breast in her tight corset. Then she’d trailed the edge of her wine glass down Garron’s rippling back while she stroked Liam’s thick blond hair, all while her servant was ramming his cock into Kaela’s Master.
Now the female overlord returned to the table. Setting her wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter, she took a seat next to Kaela. “Our servants are a cake walk for him, but can you imagine him paired with someone like Jacob? Or Devlin, Lady Daniela’s servant? That one has a cock like a horse. You’re being cruel in such a lovely way, denying him his own orgasm. His cock is thick as Liam’s arm. I bet he’d explode at the barest stroke.”
She’d forgotten. She had to give him permission to come, and verbally, because they didn’t know she was in his head. Eying Garron’s turgid member, she wasn’t sure what to do. But she was a service submissive, after all, and her Master needed to come. Liam was pulling out and Seanna was leaning over Garron, bracing herself on his shoulder as she got her breath back.
You don’t do anything, my lady. I decide when I come. If I need you to say it aloud for their benefit, I’ll tell you when and what to say. Your only job is to tell me if something doesn’t fit their expectations, because it’s my job to protect you. Protecting you means making them believe what they want to believe.
He lifted his eyes. Even tied down as he was, the potency of his gaze wasn’t diluted, and the power of his words only increased it.
She thought of the tattoo on his back—to protect and serve. She’d been able to be an effective overlord because Lady Lyssa had told her to serve. Was he able to serve for similar reasons—because it was another manifestation of being her Master?
Now you’re getting it, my lady.
Maybe so, but she still resisted the idea. Yes, as he said, it was a performance. One that could drain the soul, if it had to be performed over and over, in myriad, excruciating ways. As extreme as this might seem to some of those watching, it was nothing in the vampire world. Rules and structure like this didn’t exist. Servants were property, who lived, died, thrived or suffered according to vampire whim.
Liam had moved to release Garron’s arms. When Garron straightened, he put a steadying hand on Seanna, who was still disoriented from the force of the orgasm. After Liam released his ankles from the restraints, Garron passed her over to him. Tara’s servant brought her back to Richard, pressing her into a kneeling position by him. Liam, still naked as his Mistress obviously desired him to be, took a position behind her.
Meeting Kaela’s gaze, Garron went to one knee, bowing his head as if merely waiting for her next order. His words in her mind were a provocative contrast.
When I come tonight, it will be in your cunt, my lady. I’ll put you on your back and spread your legs for my pleasure.
“Have you flogged him yet, Lady Kaela?” Richard asked. “With that broad back and handsome ass, I expect you couldn’t help yourself.”
Kaela pulled her attention from Garron to meet Richard’s eyes. Things inside her froze anew at the look in his cool eyes. He wasn’t irritated, which would be a definite warning sign, but he was intrigued by the challenge Garron presented, a human who presumed to remain in control of a situation where he wasn’t supposed to have control. Vampires loved nothing better than to prove their superiority. If they outranked another vampire, they would take steps to make it clear they held the upper hand. A human who didn’t perceive himself as inferior to a vampire might as well have a target on him. Vampires would dedicate extra time to changing that perspective decisively, brutally. Richard would be limited in what he could do here, but even so, her gut twinged unpleasantly at what he might do.
Richard motioned to a panel between two pillars that displayed a cornucopia of floggers, paddles and single tails. “Do you mind if I enjoy the pleasure? It seems he needs a stronger hand than our servants possess to help him get out of a Dom’s mindset.”
He began to rise, because of course her assent was merely a formality.
Kaela…
“No.”
She’d spoken more forcefully than intended. Richard stopped, looking back at her, a brow raised. But she had a unique knack for recovery, didn’t she? On almost the same breath, she continued, “No, I haven’t whipped or flogged him yet, my lord. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be the first one to do it.”
“A bit possessive already.” Tara smiled. “She may be thinking about that extra large suitcase after all.”
Richard offered a polite bow. “In that case, gentlemanly instincts trump rank, my lady. I wouldn’t deprive you of first blood. It will allow me time to negotiate a wager with Lady Tara as to whether a man’s hand or a woman’s will help him mind better. I’ll take my turn when you’re done.”
Kaela managed an acknowledgment she didn’t want to give before she rose, moved with purpose toward that panel of choices. She felt Garron’s attention following her, even as his eyes remained on the ground. It gave her a view through his eyes of his bare feet. Like all of him, they were oversized. He probably wore a shoe size well into the teens.
Frankenstein’s monster was what the porters had called him. Yet Garron wasn’t the monster. Richard and Tara, beautiful as freshly formed ice on tree branches, were the true monsters. Same as those who made tigers perform in the circus, showing the crowd how they could make the powerful predators jump through hoops, do despicably cutesy things. The trainer might even think it was okay if she or he had a bond with the creatures, or if they were born in captivity, deprived of any knowledge of the life they were meant to live. The last circus she’d attended she’d wished the creatures had sprung from the ring and eviscerated every goddamned member of the audience.
Easy, my lady. Tune into my mind. She heard his sternness. He was concerned about her, she could feel that, and he was probably smart to worry. The way he’d aroused her, taking her along for the ride with Seanna and Liam, had helped, but the rage was still on a healthy simmer. She stopped before the panel, stared at her choices. She wasn’t seeing them, though. She was trying to figure out how to go with this. All the different challenges she’d faced throughout the years, and this was one where she was groping for a direction.
I thought I’d already taught you better than that. Where does a sub look for direction?
Her Master.
There you go. Now look at the choices and tell me what you know how to use, if any of them.
She knew how to use all of them. Yet there were certain things that she rejected out of hand. A paddle? No. Just no. Floggers were versatile, but she found her gaze drawn to the single tails. Most subs didn’t know how to use one, but most of them hadn’t had to be a Dominant for as long as she had. She was very good with a six foot single tail, and the threat and strength of it, the skill and control required, would honor those same qualities in her Master.
Well thought, my lady. Come show me.
She grasped her choice, turned around. He stood in front of the bench, to all appearances waiting for her verbal direction Through his mind, she could tell his ass was sore, since the last time he’d experienced anal sex had been quite some time ago. She was surprised he’d experienced it at all.
At Eden, Masters and Mistresses role play as subs occasionally to understand more about the submissive mindset, my lady. As well as to make sure we know how different punishments and sensations feel. I’ve had my ass taken by some quite formidable Mistresses with strap-ons that I’m pretty sure were borrowed from Lucifer’s toy box.
How about another Master?
Tara’s suggestion about pitting him against another alpha servant
came to mind. While watching Liam fuck her Master had done little for her—his attentions to Seanna were far more stimulating to Kaela—-now she couldn’t deny a guilty twinge imagining him fighting for the upper hand with one of the alpha servants.
Garron snorted in his head. Women, even submissive ones, are as intrigued by two strong males going at it as men are about watching two curvy females pleasuring one another.
So have you ever had a Master…do that?
One or two, because we’re expected to learn about the pleasures of same sex domination and submission as well. It’s about sensation my lady, not preferences. Haven’t you done the same, watching Fran submit and experiencing pleasure through her? You’ve learned to arouse yourself regardless of the circumstances, to make it work for you.
At the peak of an evening of vampire socializing, when it seemed everyone around her was copulating or absorbed in some type of pleasurable power exchange, she could close down her awareness of everything but the grunts and cries of pleasure and lose herself. She’d learned how to blend. Touched bodies, demanded surrender, inflicted pain…and to make that work, she couldn’t stay detached. She’d learned to channel the pleasure in ways where she did in fact experience it as well, even if it rarely went below the physical.
The body is entirely neutral, my lady. It just likes sex. It’s the mind that fucks up our compass. So do you know how to use that single tail you’re holding?
Yes. Quite well.
Good. You mess up and you’ll pay for it. A mental pause. Perhaps that wasn’t the best incentive to make you do your best.
His wry humor loosened up some of the tension inside her and reminded her again that here it was just play. He could end it if he wished by indicating it was a hard limit, because this was the human world. So he was right. Stop whining, just enjoy it in whatever way she could. That’s what he was demanding, and if she couldn’t be anything for him after she left the island, she would be his in all ways while she was here. That was one gift she could give him.
Closing her hand on the handle of the single tail, she let the thong and fall uncurl. His hands were loose, eyes trained on her face, everything about his body language saying she was the only one who existed for him, no matter the crowd, the watching staff members or vampires. “Move to the pillar,” she said shortly. “Put your hands on it.”
As he complied, he moved with that unconscious grace powerful animals had, strong and confident. It was as if he were fully dressed, not naked and just ass fucked. He knew who and what he was, and he wouldn’t let anything shake that.
You should pay yourself that same compliment, my lady. Almost two hundred years couldn’t change your determination to honor who you truly are, which is why you’re here on Eden with me.
“You don’t expect him to be so beautiful with all those scars, but he is,” Tara remarked. “If he were mine, Kaela, I’d tie him down and feast on him for days. What an intriguing tattoo…”
Kaela tilted her head in acknowledgment while she suppressed the urge to turn around and gouge her eyes out. A very female reaction, she knew.
An appreciated one, my lady. Like all men, I love a good cat fight. Particularly if bikinis and a vat of mud are involved.
She was not going to laugh. Though the urge took her by surprise, since humor wasn’t the type of emotion she was used to quelling during this kind of thing. She took a stance a few paces behind him, watched him rest both palms on either side of the wide pillar. As he did, he tilted his head so she saw him capture her in the corner of his eye. Being in his mind, it was an unusual effect, like seeing her image in a mirror looking back at her true self. Because he saw her true self. Through his vision, by wrapping his feelings about it around her, she could see it as well.
Nothing that she had to do would change that vision. She could be who Tara and Richard expected her to be and yet be what she truly was. That wasn’t new. But for the first time in her life, the contrast didn’t feel so isolating to her. It actually was…arousing, because Garron was still in control. He was with her, in her mind, supporting her, helping her, not making her feel so alone.
This could work. It could work.
The realization was so startling, so earthshattering, her mind shut like a trap to everything, even him. She had to blink, orient herself. Remind herself of the flip side.
Yes, it could work, if it was all about her. But it wasn’t. Being a Master was so much his nature, it didn’t matter what he told her, she was not going to be talked into signing him up for three hundred years of doing exactly what she'd been doing, pretending to the world. Especially in the brutal vampire world, which made her current locale look like the “you-must-be-under-48-inches-to-ride-these” kiddie area at Disneyland. She couldn't ask him to do that.
He’d realized she’d shut him out and was giving her that Master look that reminded her that was one of his non-negotiable points. Open your fucking mind. She didn’t have to read it from his mind to read it from his face.
He must have read something from hers, however, because he straightened from the pillar, concern creasing his brow as he half turned toward her. She shook herself out of it.
Turn all the way toward me.
He stayed still, didn’t twitch. It took her a beat to realize she hadn’t said it aloud. Out of the two of them, he was the one keeping his wits about him for this hazardous game of Simon Says. That proved it. She couldn’t even keep her mind straight about him in a human environment. What if she let it slip in the vampire world who was the true Master and who was the slave? They’d tear him to pieces.
Kaela, we deal with this first. His mind voice was even, firm, as if they had all the time in the world, as if she wasn’t on the edge of losing it. You can do whatever you need to do. I’ve got you.
“Turn toward me,” she said quietly. Probably too quiet for any human to hear and definitely too soft for him, but the third mark, temporary though it was, had also helped his hearing. Plus he was looking at her face. He complied and faced her, an exceptionally intimidating-looking male thanks to his size and scarring. As well as that jutting cock, still hard and unsatisfied, a different, delicious form of intimidation, because he’d made it clear he was waiting to take her, would fuck her senseless when this was over. He’d said he’d remind her who he was, but she didn’t need to be reminded he was her Master. Every vibrating, yearning cell of her body, heart and soul knew.
His gaze flickered, his jaw flexing. She felt the flood of emotion from his mind, nothing in words, but nothing needed. She’d just stepped into a boat, and he was the water that surrounded it, bearing her aloft, pulling her into the center of his being so she could do this.
She tested the whip a few times, loosening up her wrist. Then she positioned herself, focused on her canvas. She flicked the whip toward him, worked her way forward until the end was snaking out to tease his chest, his lower abdomen, his upper thigh. Then she cracked it, the popper snapping inches from his flesh with that startling gunshot noise.
It was deceptive, using a whip. When pain was involved, the whip appeared to tease and caress, just whispers of noise. A crack usually meant nothing had been touched. He knew that, but it was instinct to flinch.
He didn’t.
He trusted her. She stepped into the role she knew, giving out quite a few of those caresses, until his flesh showed the crisscrossing of faint red lines, and he was twitching with it. She’d worried about irritating his scars, but he let her know they weren’t a problem.
Do your worst, my lady. I’m all yours.
His gaze never left hers, and his erection never flagged. It seemed with every strike, every flex of his muscles, the rock set of his jaw, she was getting more aroused. Her nipples were tight, her pussy wet, her body aching for his touch.
When she couldn’t bear it any longer, she caught the fall, coiled the whip and set it aside. Moving in, she pressed her body against his, wanting to put herself against all those red marks she’d caused. She wanted to kiss
every one of them, finish on her knees, take him in her mouth, bring him to climax. Lifting her face, she kissed him, clasping the side of his throat with one hand to delve deep. He made a growl against her mouth and she answered it, pricking him with her fangs.
Tell me to keep my hands down, my lady.
I don’t want to. But she said it aloud, as he started to raise them. “Hands down.”
He put them down but clenched his fists, conveying a note of impatience, a promise of retribution for ordering him around, even though he was the one who commanded the order. The dichotomy of it made her dizzy. She was happy to be punished for obeying him, for not obeying him, for the pleasure of serving his pleasure, his desire to inflict pain and drive her to screaming climax with it.
You are a temptation like no other, my lady. Ease back, now. That’s enough.
A vampire wouldn’t prolong the intimacy of a kiss, but there was something reckless and dangerous brewing inside her, a macabre ebullience that wanted to test the boundaries of her life, tell all of them to go fuck themselves and immerse herself in him.
You’ll behave, my lady. There will be time for you to act out later. When I can deal with it in full measure.
She met his gaze with a glinting one of her own, and he almost gave her a savage grin, anticipating it. God, she needed him. Needed him forever.
But she couldn’t have him. The pain of that came back like the thrust of a stake. His eyes darkened, his mouth tightened, but she stepped back, averting her gaze and facing Lord Richard, who stood with his hand out.
“You did promise me, my lady.”
“I don’t recall a promise, Lord Richard. I remember an assumption on your part.”
Tara’s attention snapped to her. Liam and Seanna did the same before quickly looking down, the typical reaction of most servants when vampires squared off. Duck and cover.
Dealing with servants touching her Master, binding him, was one thing. Difficult enough. But a vampire handling him, inflicting pain on him, was an entirely different matter. Faced with the reality, a wall came down inside her. Not just no, but hell, fucking, over-my-dead-body no. She’d seen vampires do things to servants that surpassed the tortures of the damned. But hey, it was okay, because with a little blood from the Master or Mistress, the servant would be fine, hunky dory. Maybe some pesky mental scarring, but that was on the inside, so everything outside stayed pretty. Had to keep priorities straight, after all.