Her teen stola was a flimsy white drape tied at one shoulder. Her pulse sped, and she let it. Emmylovedbeing watched while she’s fucked — which was why she’d been kicked out of so many colleges. How crazy was it that she’d found a way to be paid for it?
She sat on the table she’d be fucked on later, and waited. Felix was reclined on his below her, and Rhea was talking to Maren back on the third row, since they were close to each other.
Her table had what looked like a grey sheet sewn into a cube draped over it, hand-painted to look like a stone altar. Another on stage looked like a bed, where a Roman military guy would deflower the bride he was given as a result of some valiant action on a battlefield, another table looked like a desk.
The vampires arrived fully dressed in their togas — some in senatorial whites edged with dignified purple, others draped in the luxurious folds and jeweled clasps of the obscenely rich. The auction winners flew onto the stage along with Zander, who was far on the other end of the stage from her. Spence walked up the steps in a short praetexta toga, nodded to her as he walked by, and made his way to Zander.
A tall, lean vampire approached Emmy wearing a floor-length dark tunic with a purple sash, and a laurel wreath on his head. He was playing the part of Roman priest tonight, the one who’d take Emmy’s virginity in some sick sacrificial fucking, which would’ve been horrible to have it actually happen way-back-when, but was going to be beyond hot to act out on stage.
The vampire adjusted her stola, tucking and smoothing the flimsy fabric in a way that told her he’d likely actually lived when they were worn. His thick, dark hair curled naturally around a chiseled face, and he met her gaze with dark eyes that spoke of authority.
“Ten thousand dollars for two level-three hours in the Lupanar.”
It took her a moment to realize he was making an offer for her, and she shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m only available at level one.”
“One hundred thousand dollars, three hours, level three.”
“Again, I’m flattered, but any negotiations will have to be at level one.”
“One million dollars, four hours, level three. Don’t answer me now, and if the answer is no, it’s fine to never answer me. The offer is open indefinitely. You can send a message to me at any time while we are here, or even three years from now, and I’ll either come to you if I can, or arrange for you to be brought to me.”
She felt him trying to get through her shields, and she smiled at him. “If you try to rip through them, I will find you when you’re outside somewhere, and I will eat you. My dragon doesn’t especially enjoy the taste of vampires, but she loves the magical punch they give, so she doesn’t mind the taste.”
His face went to stone, and she figured that was him working to not show his anger at being threatened.
The ultimate way to disrespect a vampire is to turn your back on them. There’s no louder way to tell them you don’t see them as a threat. Emmy now understood the black-suited monitors were part of the security team, and with them scattered throughout the room, she felt comfortable turning her back on this vampire, so she did.
Chapter 23
Emmy caught movement across the stage and turned her head to watch Zander step forward, his presence a quiet storm. He pressed Spence over the padded table and hiked the flimsy toga up, exposing the side of Spence’s ass to the audience. Spence was facing Emmy, but his eyes were closed, and when he arched his back and opened them, he was looking over her head, as if trying to stand while Zander’s iron control held him down.
Spence’s voice came out higher pitched than normal, trembling with a young apprentice’s plea. “Master, I beseech you, spare me this taking — I am but a novice, unfit for such honor.”
Zander’s lips curved into a predator’s smirk, and he adjusted Spence’s toga higher. “You’ll learn, apprentice,” Zander said in a low, commanding voice while he positionedhis cock, which she couldn’t see from her angle, but could guess what the audience was seeing.
Emmy felt the heat build, her own role looming, but this opening act set the tone — power, plea, and the promise of more.
Spence braced against the table. “Please don’t! Sir, I am not ready!” His pitch cracked perfectly, and Zander paused, letting the tension stretch, then moved with a slow thrust, choreographed but intense, Spence’s whine and clear pain blending with the crowd’s approval.
Spence braced against the table, his scream a raw, high-pitched wail that tore through the room with increasing panic as Zander’s thrust deepened. His body jolted, hands scrabbling at the table’s edge, voice cracking into frantic pleas. “No, Master, it burns, please stop!” He thrashed, toga slipping from his shoulder, exposing the strain in his muscles, his face a mask of exaggerated agony.
Zander’s hand clamped down on Spence’s neck, his low voice slicing through the noise. “Cease this disgrace, boy, or I’ll have you flogged in the public square. Compose yourself and silence this racket, or bear the shame of a miscreant’s lash.” The threat hung heavy, a Roman patrician’s cold authority, and Spence’s cries faltered, his body stilling into a tense submission, the audience’s murmurs swelling with approval as the power shifted back to Zander’s command, and he plowed Spence’s ass fast and hard while Spence moved as if he was in great pain, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Emmy’s pulse raced. She loved this, the drama, the eyes on her, and Zander’s lead promised a night of fire. She couldn’t wait to play her part.
She grinned, turning to her vampire so her back was to the audience, and he lifted her onto the table with a smirk. She went to her back and lifted her legs into a V while someone handed him a bowl of wine. He sprinkled it over her pussy while chanting Latin, and a thrill coursed through her veins. She arched, playing the part of the young maiden willingly sacrificing her virginity.
Emmy’s heart raced as poetic-sounding Latin flowed melodiously over her …accipe hanc virginem puram … sanguinem pudicitiam eius in donum accipe … sacrificium voluptatis aeternae…
The low, commanding chant sent shivers up her spine, and she translated it to English in her head:Nurturing Venus, Father Bacchus, I invoke you: this pure virgin we give to you, with her blood and chastity we make sacred rites, libated with wine and blood, open her to us, that she may become a sacrifice of eternal pleasure.
She arched higher, legs still spread in that shameless V, playing the part to perfection while her body betrayed how much she craved the real defilement to come.
He set the bowl aside and rearranged his toga so it split down the front to reveal a massive cock, already granite hard. He quickly positioned himself and then plunged in without warning, a single violent thrust that split her wide and would’ve been a major shock for a virgin, so Emmyscreamed as if she’d never been penetrated before, raw and theatrical.
When she thrashed, two vampires in togas stepped to the table to hold her down through the ritualdeflowering, cool hands on her forearms and shoulders, pressing her to the table.
“It hurts, stop, it’s too much!” she wailed, thrashing against their grip, her act dialed up for the audience. The burn felt glorious, his size filling her in ways that sent sparks through her core, her struggles only grinding him deeper, amplifying the pleasure she hid behind her cries, lines she’d memorized, “Pontifex, mercy, the fire consumes me! Slower, I beg, I can’t bear it!”
