Spence looked at his phone again and smiled. “The statue garden hot tub has a reservation at two. You’re good until then.”
They all talked about when they wanted it, Spence reserved it for them, and Emmy went back to eating.
The stew almost made her want to call her mom, but not quite.
Shedidmiss her parents, but not enough to listen to lectures and bitching about what she was doing with her life.
She knewexactlywhat she was going to do during this first hundred or so years, and it involved genetics. Who the fuck knew where she’d go from there? She’d live until someone killed her, which hopefully wouldn’t be for many, many thousands of years.
And what difference did it make that her brother and sister were a few years ahead of her? She’d been determined to have fun while she kept up her nearly four-point-zero GPA at some of the hardest colleges on the planet. What the fuck had been wrong with that? So she’d fucked three frat brothers at the same time, and so what if they were in the middle of the soccer field after a midnight game of capture-the-flag between rival fraternities? Humans can’t get her pregnant, and she can’t catch diseases. So what the fuck did it matter?
Uggg.
No, she didn’t need to call her mother just because Spence made one of her recipes.
Chapter 10
The underground playroom is for the vampires. Emmy had been here when they wanted to feed from her, but shifters can’t reserve it, usually.
When she’d asked Spence at breakfast, though, he’d made it happen.
Felix had offered to give her a massage, to help her get to sleep, the night before, and the two had talked about limits.
Today, she’d looked up the recommended ratios for cinnamon oil, plus she had a talk with Spence about best practices.
Felix trusted her to get it right, and she didn’t take that lightly.
She picked a plastic cane without as much weight as the Delrin, but it would still hurt like fuck. A little whippy, a lot thuddy. Not as bad as it could be, though.
Instead of a horsewhip, she chose a three-tailed whip. Short enough to handle with precision, long enough he’d feel it, but the three strands wouldn’t do as much damage as a single. Felix would enjoy the single without all the other things thrown in, and it might even be okay today, but she decided to play it a little safe. If he looked bored, she could always swap them out.
Instead of using a strap on his dick and balls, she opted for a cock-flogger. Plastic and cruel, but mostly surface-level pain without the deep bruising.
She didn’t want to injure him. This was about control and pleasure. Painful pleasure, sure, but the goal today was to hurt him in similar ways to what the bastard had done to her — but to make him enjoy it.
Felix stripped without being ordered, his cock already half-hard from nothing more than anticipation, and he didn’t try to hide it.
She put his wrist cuffs on, caressing his arms a little during the process, and then ordered him to put the ankle cuffs on. He bent over and did so, and she didn’t need to check them because he’d worn these countless times in her bedroom. He knew which hole to buckle them into.
“Hands on the post,” Emmy told him. Her voice was flat and controlled with no room for questions.
He obeyed, wrapping his fingers around the steel, feet spread shoulder-width.
The short chains barely clinked when she secured his wrists.
The first crack of the cane made him hiss, but he didn’t flinch away. She stepped back and watched the red stripe form across his ass cheeks. Emmy worked methodically, ass and thighs, alternating sides, keeping him guessing, watching every shiver in his muscles, every shift in his scent.
She stopped a few times to caress the welts, squeeze them. While she was at it, she added a few handprints. Kissed his shoulder.
No words yet. Lucien had been silent the entire time, but she hadn’t decided if she’d do the same. Other than the orders she’d given at the beginning, she was playing that one by ear.
By the time she swapped the cane for the three-tailed whip, Felix’s cock was fully hard, straining against nothing. His breath hitched when the first stroke kissed across his ass, then his upper back. He cried out on the fifth lash, the sound breaking at the edges. Not a safeword, not even close, but Emmy scented the edge of panic threading through arousal. She eased the tempo, then snapped the whiphardagainst his thighs, and paused to watch the heat bloom scarlet.
She caressed his back and ass. Jacked his cock a half-dozen times. Kissed his shoulder again.
And then let the whip fly two dozen times with speed while his screams filled the room.
She wasn’t under a strict time limit. They had the room for three hours, and that would be plenty of time for both the scene and the beginnings of aftercare, because Felixwould sleep in her bed tonight so she could make sure he was okay. Make sure he slept peacefully.
