An Elegant Weapon

by Candace Blevins

  His English had gotten better, though his accent was still thick. We came to a little seating area off a hallway, and I plopped into a chair.

  “My mom somehow managed to nag me into believing only trashy, classless girls cuss, but never convinced me to stay in school and away from drugs. How screwed up is that?”

  He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. “So why start?”

  “Everyone cusses here sometimes. I’ve paid attention to when it’s okay and when it isn’t. I’m still not comfortable cussing a lot, but sometimes it’s counterproductive to have to use other words. A dick-whip doesn’t have the same impact as a cock-whip. I thought about using the f-word but worried I wouldn’t sound confident so I just said screw. I need to practice using it before I say it around my slave.”

  “Say it now. Tell me to go fuck myself.”

  I shook my head and he chuckled. “Fine, but you know I’ll have to tell Bran about this, yes?”

  As we’d grown into somewhat of a friendship, he’d been clear when he was going to have to tell Bran something. I understood, though sometimes it smarted. “Give me twenty-four hours to find a way to tell him myself, please?”

  “Done.”

  “Thanks. Also, thanks for your help maneuvering my slave around. I shouldn’t need help again until around seven this evening.”

  He nodded and left, and I made my way to the costume room to have a talk with one of the seamstresses. She provided me with locking puppy mitts for Drew’s hands, and a hood he could wear long term, complete with a protrusion at the front to make him look like a dog. The inside was open so he’d be able to breathe with no obstruction, but it would completely cover his head otherwise. The eyeholes could be opened or closed. I’d taken rough measurements during the exam, and she gave me a puppy harness I could attach his leash to, as well as leg guards so he could crawl on concrete without injuring his kneecaps. The harness also stretched to the leg guards to prevent him from straightening his hips. He’d be stuck in a crawling position even when on his side trying to sleep.

  I stopped by the kitchen next, and one of Fluffy’s minions informed me he could cook human food into dog kibble. He asked for the slave’s height and weight, and told me he’d adjust the recipe so a cup of food three times a day would give him everything he needed to stay healthy.

  “Do you want it to taste especially bad, really good, or bland?”

  I considered the question. “Somewhere between bland and good? Nothing special, but not bad?”

  8

  Marco is Bran’s right-hand-man. He acts as guard and advisor, and possibly a little as personal assistant, though Bran has an actual assistant who handles the details of his businesses, and another who arranges his personal schedule and makes sure his life runs smoothly.

  Marco still trained me an hour or two a day, but I had to work my schedule around his. I also had my training time with Bruiser, foreign language classes, and I was required to read about the powerful supernaturals in town on my own time, so I’d know all about them when I encountered them. Bran had accumulated information on their fighting styles, weaknesses, strengths, connections, alliances — there were dozens of pages for some of them. The dragon fascinated me, but he was married to a swan, of all things. Crazy.

  On top of all of this, I was responsible for training my slave. I’d pulled in more help with Bran’s permission, but everything done to him was at my orders, even when I wasn’t present.

  I left a note with Bran’s personal assistant, asking if I could shadow him while he interacted with his flock. Also, I told him I didn’t want Bruiser to be the first to take my slave’s ass. I intended to teach Drew to enjoy pain and wanted someone a little narrower and gentler for his first time. Not nice, just not as rough as Bruiser. I offered Drew’s cherry to Bran, but mentioned a guard I’d like permission to pull in if Bran wasn’t interested.

  A few hours later, Bruiser was putting me through my paces when I smelled Bran enter. I turned and bowed to him, though I’m not sure exactly why. “Hello, Master.” He didn’t feed from me anywhere near as often as he had in the beginning, and I missed it.

  “I’m told you often send Drew to the slave gym while you’re in fight training?”

  “Yes, Sir. He’s on one of the stationary bikes, on a grueling mountain program.” A dildo is mounted on the bikes’ seats and Drew would get a shock every time he slowed. Trainers set the speed their slaves must maintain, and it was my intention to get Drew into excellent physical condition. “It should take him close to an hour to finish the course, and I’ve instructed the guards to move him to the sit-up board upon completion, Master.”

  The inclined boards have leads and clips, which would be attached to his cock and balls. Drew would receive an electrical shock if his shoulders rested all the way onto the board, or if his back and forth motion wasn’t smooth and continuous. With his ankles locked in, his choice was to keep the sit-ups going like a continuous dance, or scream in pain when his genitals were shocked.

  “Legs and core? No arms or shoulders?”

  “He hasn’t had the use of hands or arms, other than to crawl, since he was given to me, Master. He’s in a single sleeve today and the guards strapped him onto the bike since he won’t be holding the handlebars. They’ll bind his hands to his hips for his crunches.”

  He nodded. “I approve. Why do you wish to shadow me when I interact with my flock?”

  “If I’m to be vampire, I’ll need to know how to feed from humans and put them at ease, Master. You instructed me to ask for training I’d like to have before I make my decision, Sir.”

  His eyes told me he approved, but he merely said, “I’m feeding from a young college student tonight. Take your puppy to my office so he can watch, but be sure he’s restrained and will be silent. Flog the young man, get him warmed up for me. He enjoys pain, but you shouldn’t treat him like a slave. He’s part of my flock and deserves respect. Talk to him, find out what kind of pain he’s craving, and give him what he wants. When I arrive, we’ll let him fuck your cunt while I take his ass. He most often wants me to give him pain with my bite. When I’ve taken care of him and sent him away, we’ll play with your puppy.”

  Bran looked to Bruiser and back to me. “Can you control your slave without help when he isn’t fully restrained?”

  “Only when I’ve had enough of your blood to increase my strength and speed appreciably. Otherwise, I could likely fight him and take him down, but I can’t manhandle him the way Bruiser does, Master.”

  Bruiser chuckled. “It might be interesting to let her spar with some of the guards right after you give her your blood. Also, I was going to talk to you about assigning her to the Monday evening intermediate class. Private lessons are the way to go with her, but I believe she’ll gain from learning in a group setting as well.”

  “I trust your judgement, set it up.”

  “Which, Sir?”

  “Both. I’d like to see her fight you after she’s had my blood three nights in a row.”

  Bran had taught me how to walk into a room as the person in charge, and I entered his chambers as if I were him. Well, not quite, but close. Knowing the human couldn’t smell my nervousness helped, too.

  “I’m Holly,” I told the young man as I entered. “Bran tells me you like pain, and he asked me to get you warmed up.”

  He stood as I entered, and I smiled and leaned against Bran’s desk, my hands gripping the edge and my feet out at an angle, relaxed.

  “Puppy, nose on the circle in the corner and make sure that little curly tail stays up in the air. Don’t let me catch you turning to watch.” I softened my voice and told the young man, “Please, sit. Tell me what you’re craving?”

  He shook his head. “A full body flogging. Or, everywhere it’s safe, anyway.”

  “Cock? Balls? Back? Thighs? Front and back? Just your back?”

  “Everywhere. Maybe even weights on my balls. I want it controlled and not wild, a tempo I can keep up with, b
ut the pain beyond what I can easily handle.” He blew out a breath. “It feels wrong to be able to ask for what I want, but Bran’s taught me it’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. He said sometimes you want extreme predicament bondage, sometimes you need various kinds of impact play. He sent me because he knew I could handle any of those situations.”

  “I got the floggers out I want tonight.” The poor fella was blushing something awful.

  “And do you want pleasure or pain when he feeds?”

  “Pain.”

  “Okay. I want your hands out of the way while I flog you, so we’ll use leather cuffs and the chin-up bar. Take your shirt, shoes, and socks off, please? Leave the pants, for now.”

  I worked his chest, abs, and back over until he wanted more. Needed more. I shivered in anticipation at his groan when I unfastened his pants. He moved his feet to help me take them off, and I took my time folding them and placing them across the room on his shirt.

  His cock was rock hard under his boxer briefs, and I played with it through the fabric. Teased. Flirted. Finally, I slid them off, put a spreader bar between his legs, a parachute on his balls, and added weights until his breathing was ragged.

  I changed the music to a slower, harsher beat, and used the heavy floggers with knots in the strands. I stripped as I worked, until we were both nude. When he was close to overwhelmed, I’d hug him, hold him, and caress his heated skin until he’d calmed enough to take more pain. My sense of smell told me when he was ready, when it was too much, when he needed more. Always, I flogged him to the music. Controlled. Slow. Brutal.

  We were both all kinds of worked up when Bran finally joined us. He went straight to the young man, embraced him, and kissed him. “Such a treasure. I’ve watched for twenty minutes. The two of you should be on stage. Both so beautiful, so intense. Yin and yang. Sadist and masochist in perfect balance.” He turned to look at Drew. “Why don’t you do something interesting with your slave while I get us set up on the bed?”

  “Of course, Sir.” He was now Sir around the flock, guests, and Drew. I still used Master when we were alone or with the guards. It felt right. I’d learned a lot about mutual respect since I’d come to live here, and Bran deserved my thanks and had earned my respect.

  I quickly reconfigured Drew’s harness, had him climb on a table and drop to his stomach, and I put him in a hog-tie. I exchanged his puppy-tail plug for an anal hook, and tied it off to his wrists so he’d have to arch his back and hold his shoulders up to keep from pulling on the hook. Bran and I would smell his pain and it would add to the overall electricity in the room.

  I joined Bran, and he didn’t waste time getting us into position — me on my back, the young man inside me in missionary, and Bran in his butt. Within moments I was on the edge of my first orgasm, but I wanted to pay attention to the feeding process so I let it ride on the edge.

  I hadn’t expected the young man to go totally rigid and wail in pain when Bran bit. I was so fascinated with the process and so turned on by watching the beautiful man enjoy the worst possible pain, I never came.

  Bran took care of the bite marks when he finished, and curled up to cuddle with his dinner.

  “You need to really lay into someone now, don’t you?”

  “I do, Sir.” And did I ever.

  “Give me a show while you play with your slave.”

  I spent thirty minutes giving him the most exquisite cock and ball torture before Bran’s dinner left for his quarters and Bran walked to us with a raging hard-on.

  “You haven’t let him orgasm since you got him?’

  I shook my head. “No. He’s edged multiple times a night, but we don’t give him what he needs to find release. He’ll have an opportunity while you fuck him. If he doesn’t take it, who knows when I might give him another chance?” Bran’s brow lifted at my fuck, but he didn’t comment.

  Drew grunted into his butterfly gag, but I’d pumped it until the black latex bladder filled his mouth. It was impossible for him to speak, though I knew he’d be proclaiming he wasn’t a fag and wouldn’t come with a dick in his ass if I hadn’t silenced him.

  I’d put him on the cross to give Bran a show, and now released him. Bran lifted him and carried him to the pedestals — four in a rectangle. One for each hand and knee. We strapped him onto them and Bran adjusted the height so his dick was at Drew’s butthole.

  “I injected lube when I took the anal hook out, Sir. Slick yourself a little if you wish, but don’t worry about adding any to the slave.”

  Meanwhile, I rubbed coconut oil on my hands and worked Drew’s cock and balls. He growled and squirmed when his dick filled. He didn’t want to be gay.

  I nodded to Bran when Drew was fully hard, and he slammed inside all at once. Drew screamed out his nose and fought his restraints, but there was nowhere for him to go.

  Five minutes in, and I was sure Bran was pegging Drew’s prostate with every savage thrust. I worked his cock without mercy, and Drew’s skin was bright red everywhere.

  “So close, Drew. Gonna come while Bran fucks your ass? This is your chance to drain those balls. Can’t you just feel them starting to spasm so they can empty?” Somehow, it all came out like I wanted it to. Who knew cussing could be fun?

  Drew’s entire body shook, his cock jerked in my hands, and white liquid hit the floor where he’d easily be able to see it beneath him.

  The gag had a few small holes so he could breathe, but I realized he was in trouble when the tears started flowing. I deflated the gag and removed it, but Bran wasn’t interested in slowing. He kept fucking him past the orgasm, his hands tight on Drew’s hips.

  “Don’t let him go soft,” Bran ordered. “Keep working his cock.”

  Drew was sobbing now, and he yelped and jumped as much as possible in his restraints when I stroked his cock.

  “Fuck! Too sensitive! Just came!”

  I gripped tighter and worked it harder. “Do slaves get a say in what happens to them?’

  He wailed in anguish and dropped his head. “No, Sir. Please! I beg for mercy!”

  We made him come three times before Bran finally came inside him. I didn’t plug him or clean him up. It’d do him good to have another man’s cum leak out of his ass a while.

  9

  By far, my hardest classroom lessons were the ones Marco and other teachers gave me in body disposal and crime scene cleanup — often with an actual body. At first, I couldn’t touch them, but I quickly got over my squeamishness. None of my teachers were amused by female drama. I was being trained to be a professional and they expected me to act like one at all times.

  And there were tests — in writing, on the computer, and in real-life mockups. I had to know which chemicals to use under specific circumstances, how to start an electrical fire so it didn’t look like arson, how to wrap bodies so no DNA would be in the vehicle that transported them, and a million other details. Once I’d passed the tests, Bran told me he had a prisoner on the lowest level, an enemy to both him and Abbott, and the man had to die. I was told to kill him and dispose of the body on my own, and I was expected the plan the entire thing — transportation, location, disposal, and cleanup. I submitted my plan in writing three times before Marco approved it and told me to carry it out. They gave me the prisoner’s height and weight and let me see him briefly before I formed my plan. He waited in a jail cell, knowing he was to be killed, while I came up with my plan and perfected it.

  My final corrections were because I hadn’t accounted for needing to force the were-hyena to stay human. I merely had to change his restraints to a single arm binder, with a chain stretching to a collar around his throat and to another around his nuts to be assured he’d cripple himself if he tried to change.

  The actual deed wasn’t as hard as I expected. Bran had been giving me plenty of blood for weeks, and I was easily strong enough to lift and carry him. I asked for Bruiser’s assistance just in case, since my objective involved a shifter, but it turned out I didn’t ne
ed his help so he only observed. A new subdivision was being put in about halfway down the mountain, and I visually and electronically scanned it for cameras during the day when I went through as if I were looking at houses. I chose a lot without cameras in range, and buried him deep beneath where the concrete foundation would be poured in the coming days. It meant bringing one of Bran’s groundskeepers who knew how to use heavy equipment, but he’s loyal to Bran and would never tell.

  For my own conscience, I asked the hyena if he’d bring harm to Bran or Abbott if allowed to live and given the chance. He said he wouldn’t, but his scent told me otherwise so I tossed him into the hole, jumped in after him, and held him sitting up at an angle by the hair, my foot on his chest. One brutal slice of the sword and his head came off, his body slammed to the ground, and I didn’t get hit by the arterial spray. I settled his head below his feet, jumped out of the hole, and motioned for the man on the earthmover to fill the hole he’d made for me. I’d taken photos of the site before we started, and I made sure it looked the same when we left. My hair was in a bun under a hat, and the cap and my clothes went into the transport bag before I got into the car. I collected the gloves and protective clothing the groundsman wore, put it all in the bag, and incinerated it when we returned. We all wore shoes in the wrong size, and they were incinerated as well. The next morning I went for a total exfoliation treatment at a spa, just in case something had made it onto my skin.

  The man had been in a transport bag when he arrived and left Bran’s home, and I personally cleaned his jail cell with chemicals capable of erasing DNA evidence. Marco checked it as a crime scene tech would, and found no fingerprints, hair, or DNA. I was in the clear.