Serva and Vassal stood locked in the pillories, their branded and whipped bodies slick with blood, sweat, and the leavings of countless violations. The crescent moons on their flesh glistened under the stage lights in livid purplish-red, with blackened and charred edges. The wooden frames held them mercilessly — heads clamped high, dental gags forcing their mouths into grotesque circles. No resistance remained in them, and their bodies moved with the cocks in their asses and throats.
Zander walked her past security and up the steps, his hand steady at the small of her back. He watched her step into the harness and adjust the straps with practiced efficiency until the massive troll dildo jutted forward fromher hips like a weapon. He wished he could telepath with her, to tell her she looked glorious, but since he couldn’t, he stood with her in patient silence, watching the final four users finish their allotted fifteen minutes.
The first of the four to step away had been using Serva’s ass, and Emerald stepped forward to take his place.
Unsurprisingly, a crowd had formed again. Gossip can’t be stopped in the silo, and Zander hadn’t tried to keep their conversation in the cafeteria private. Likely, most everyone in the room at the time heard them, so all these hours later, flock and guests packed the theatre once again.
Emerald moved with a grace that belied her lingering weakness, lining the dildo up with Serva’s ass, gripping the vampire’s hips with steady hands, and then forcing it into her in seven powerful thrusts, each a little farther than the last, and the last splitting Serva’s ass open with a pop before seating all the way inside.
Zander watched in approval as Emerald skillfully drove the troll dildo into Serva’s ass with brutal thrusts. Serva’s body jerked violently, and her shrieks and screams echoed through the cavernous room.
When the bear-shifter fucking her throat came down it and left, Serva begged for mercy that Zander knew, without a doubt, Emerald would not give.
But then she surprised him by slowing. However, rather than doing so for mercy, it was to taunt. “That’s right, beg for mercy, Serva. Beg one of the people you fucking poisoned to go easy on you.Fuck, you really are an idiot, aren’t you?”
Emerald sped back up, and now Serva gave apologies, whimpering out excuses and regrets, crazy justifications, and between them, pathetic pleas for mercy. Her lidless eyes were bloodshot, her mouth spread so wide by the gag she was barely able to enunciate well enough to be understood.
And Zander reveled in her pain and humiliation while he thoroughly appreciated Emerald’s artistry. The young dragon’s precision was exquisite — she gauged how to apply maximum pain and humiliation in increments. Speeding up, slowing down, adding little random verbal digs.
After five minutes of calculated torment, splitting the vampire’s ruined asshole wider than a saucer with every vicious thrust, Emerald pulled out, walked behind Vassal, and started all over again — his deeper roars a counterpoint to Serva’s wails.
Emerald’s strength, not yet fully returned, still commanded awe. Her thighs flexed, her corded arms grasped his hips, her abs rippled.
Vassal’s entire body jerked with every plunge into his ass, his frame quivering, his roars reduced to wet, broken gasps, his head lolling forward — only to snap up when she jammed the entire thing into his asshole, splitting him open, rending him.
Serva’s pussy followed, the troll dildo tearing through tender flesh, Emerald’s rhythm relentless, her taunts a litany of their crimes. “You thought to break us,” she hissed, her hips snapping forward, “but you’re the ones shattered and broken in front of a motherfucking audience.”
Zander’s chest tightened at her words. They wouldn’t have cared if she’d died, and for that, they would pay with their pain for motherfuckingcenturies. Pain would become their new truth.
But for now, their screams laid bare their arrogance, while Emerald’s control revealed her strength.
Zander’s mind lingered on her skill. How many had she hurt to hone her sadistic craft? How many lovers were in her history, masochists who craved pain and dominance?
She hadn’t treated all of them this way, that much he could be certain of — he’d been all through Felix’s memories, and knew she’d pushed him hard, but only up to his limits, taking care to give him the kind of pain he craved, and only a tiny bit more than he thought he wanted. Just enough to challenge him.
For Felix, her sadism was a gift of pleasureful pain, her voice a lifeline through the storm while she talked him through it.
Here, with those who’d poisoned her, she was an unforgiving beast, relishing their destruction, using friction as a fire that consumed. Her laughter was a blade, another way to hurt them as she drove the dildo into ruined holes.
She stepped so they could both see her, making sure they saw the blood-soaked troll dildo before she removed it. Zander walked the horse cock to her, kissed her forehead, and then stepped to the side of the stage again. This was her show. Her vengeance.
The horse cock would easily go through their stomachs and shred them, possibly along with other internal organs. As long as she didn’t pierce their hearts, they’d live, and there were no sharp edges on the dildo, so that shouldn’t be possible. These two were old enough, even if she dislodged their brainstem, they’d almost certainly recover.
So this next part would be all about pain and humiliation for them, but also, he had a feeling she would take pleasure in hurting their stomachs. She’d puked and shit for days — and she’d destroyed their assholes and lower bowels to start, and now would destroy their upper bowels, stomachs, and esophagi.
Fitting.
Zander’s breath caught at her form: her shoulders squared, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, her beauty a quiet violence. She worked the horse cock into Serva’s throat first, the vampire gagging, her body convulsing as Emerald angled it, shoving time and again until the entire thirty inches were buried, and tears flowed from Serva’s lidless eyes while her neck bulged obscenely.
Serva gagged and retched, the muffled noises a symphony of defeat.
Five minutes later, Vassal suffered the same, his roars choking into gurgles, Emerald’s hands steady, her voice a purr. “Swallow it, Vassal. Sucks to feel as if you need to puke, doesn’t it?”
Zander watched her thoughtfully. For those who learn to truly lead with this kind of power, it can be more than meredominion. Emerald transformed pain into justice, her sadism a forge that reshaped her subjects’ wills into putty she could bend, mold, and toy with — all while delighting in every exquisite moment.
He’d seen her from Felix’s point of view, her care a delicate dance, pushing boundaries with love, coaxing pleasure from resistance. Here, she was a storm, and he understood the difference: punishment for the deserving versus pleasure for the cherished.
And he realized he wanted to see her with Spencer, to watch her blend care with cruelty while working in tandem, the two sadists taking over the masochist as a team, bestowing pain with love and care.
