She hadn’t seen his cock when he’d fucked Alistair, so this was her first view of it, and the entire package made her body hum, like a tuning fork struck deep inside her. He was all power and strength, more like a fallen angel than she’d ever seen him before.
Fuck, but she was glad for the name change. He was Zander now, no longer Abbott.
She focused on Spence, a lean figure in leather and straps, and cute little leather boy-shorts with his cock and balls sticking out.
Zander folded his wings and stepped behind Felix, clearly already in pain on the wooden pony. Spence handed Zander a whip and stepped to Felix’s side, unafraid of the flying braided whip while Zander tore into the bound man’s back, and Spence ran his hand up and down Felix’s cock, speaking to him so softly, Emmy couldn’t hear what was said.
Around her, the room unfolded into a choreography of need and power. Rhea was locked in a pillory fifteen yards away, her back arched, arms taut, the pillory’s thick wooden brace trapping her neck and wrists. One vampire stood behind her, belting her ass in a precise, steady rhythm with a braided strap. Another crouched in front, playing her breasts like an instrument, slapping and twisting, adding clamps and ripping them off. And all the while, Rhea screamed and writhed, futilely trying to escape the pain.
Motion caught her attention, and she noted the original vampire in the black skin-suit, standing and watching. She looked around and saw more around the room in regular intervals, impassive and unmoving, watching every blow.
It was a reminder Zander had people ensuring the rules were followed. Her body eased a fraction, just enough for the fear to shift into heat again.
She let out a breath. Then another. The cage held her fast — her arms pinned, her legs locked, her bare skin compressed by metal. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t shield her clit from the relentless throb that matched the low, pulsing beat vibrating through the floor.
She was safe in this cage, but ready to be let out, bent over something, and then fucked until she couldn’t see straight.
But for the moment, all she could do was watch others being tortured and fucked. Every wooden pony held someone with a bright THREE across their forehead. She saw Maren bound face-out on a cross, a vampire alternating a whip between her tits and cunt.
The entire room was nothing but ritualized brutality, and her body reacted to the idea. Her breath hitched, and her pulse thudded under red and orange dye.
She felt small sounds — the leather strike of a strap, the breath of someone passing close enough to take her scent. She was painted and visible. Trapped. It was performance, market, and decadence all at once.
The air in the ballroom thickened, the rhythm under the torches turned from a pulse to a demand, and Emmy’s bodyanswered with a restless, low ache. Everywhere she looked, someone was being fucked or tortured. Or both. Rhea’s body arcing in the pillory, Felix shaking on the wooden horse. Vampires bent over painted flesh, their hips pounding out their pleasure. The sound was a single organism: breath, cries, the wet slide of skin on skin.
Her turn couldn’t come fast enough. Every nerve in her body was ready for cocks in her holes, fangs penetrating her skin.
Chapter 21
Finally, a tall, pale vampire stopped in front of her cage, then stepped to the side and unlatched the door. Emmy stepped forward, heart hammering with need more than fear. His hand closed around her wrist, cool and unyielding, pulling her through the heat and sound toward a line of low, steel-framed platforms.
The equipment here was plain: steel horizontal bars set for food to be stretched over. A convenient way for vampires to fuck and bite their food. Function over spectacle.
The vampire shoved her over a bar, metal biting into her hips, his hand between her shoulder blades pressing her flat. She grabbed the second bar to keep her body horizontal, and noted she could feel the beat stronger here, and her pulse matched up with it, her clit throbbing along with it.
The air vibrated with moans, the sharp crack of whips from another platform, a chorus of pain and pleasure blurred together.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t tease. Just lined up and drove into her ass with one savage thrust.
The stretch and friction, the violence of it, made her scream. Pain flashed, bright and white, then melted into the deeper ache she’d been craving for hours.
The vampire’s cold hands gripped her hips, and he pulled out and forced his way back in. He fucked her with brutal, unrelenting strokes that rocked her palms against the bar with a violence that made her have to focus on holding onto it.
Every thrust was vicious, but still, she wanted more. The feeding stations are designed to keep the food still, so she couldn’t push back without letting go of the bar, couldn’t even arch her back to give him a different angle.
She whimpered in frustration, adding to the rest of the sounds in the room, the other bodies being used.
She didn’t remember her wrists being chained to the bar. Someone must’ve done that while he was fucking her, because the vampire had not. Even if she wanted to rise, or to push back, she couldn’t.
No, she was forced to take it, forced to feel every inch of him. The ache built fast, her muscles fluttering, cunt throbbing while she was filled and fucked, nothing but flesh and heat and hunger.
And then he slowed, brushed her hair all over to her left side, leaned over, and the vampire’s fangs sank into the side of her neck.
Emmy froze, a gasp caught halfway in her throat as fire shot through her veins and the venom twisted her frustrations into molten pleasure. The orgasm hit without warning, detonating from deep inside and tearing through her like a storm. Her cry became a guttural sound, half scream, half sob, as her body spasmed around him, muscles clenching in rhythmic waves.
He groaned against her skin, still buried to the hilt. He pulled his fangs from her neck, licked the holes, and then stood and fucked her harder and faster than ever. Each thrust pulled another spasm from her, another pulse of heat and need. The venom kept firing, kept stoking every nerve until she was shaking uncontrollably, tears hot on her cheeks, the world reduced to sensation — metal and flesh, cock and asshole, pulse and power.
She didn’t come all the way down from her first orgasm when another hit, ripping through her harder than the first, dragging a cry from her throat. Her body locked around him, her ass squeezing his cock as if she could milk him dry, and he shuddered with a guttural moan that vibrated against her shoulder.
