Emmy’s grin sharpened. She was damned good with a whip, and the idea of Spence’s strong hands kneading her feet for hours while Zander watched, denied, was too tempting to resist. “You’re on.”
They moved to the bedroom to prepare for their boy. He was handling a flockissue and should return soon.
By the time he walked in the door, they had the clothespins out along with the hardware to connect him to the headboard. Minutes later, he was flat on his back in the center of the bed, wrists bound to the center of the headboard, ankles bound to the outer edges, legs spread wide — his inner thighs exposed, and balls drawn up tight in nervous excitement.
Zander had selected the stainless-steel clothespins with super-strong springs. Whipping them off would take a whole lot of skill.
Emmy worked methodically down his left inner thigh, pinching skin in a perfectly straight line, each snap drawing a sharp inhale from Spence, his body jerking against the ropes. Zander mirrored her on the right, cool precision placing his with effortless grace.
By the time both lines were complete, Spence trembled, breath ragged, cock hard and leaking against his belly, the scent of pain and arousal filling the room.
Zander showed her two whips of equal length. “Ladies choice, and then ladies first.”
She chose the more supple of the two, and then stepped to the side to test the weight, aiming at a pillow to get the feel of it. Satisfied after a half-dozen strikes, she focused on the line of clips attached to Spence’s strained body.
She visualized what she wanted to happen, and the first strike landed true, flipping the clothespin clean off with a sharp crack. Spence yelped and jerked, and Zander’s armflashed into the air — removing the mirroring steel a mere second later.
The second went the same, but then Emmy rushed, and her third throw missed the clothespin and brought up a bloody spot on Spence’s thigh.
She blew out a breath, heat rising in her cheeks, and Zander’s low chuckle vibrated through the room, fond rather than mocking. A second later, his fourth clothespin was gone.
On her next turn, she got it, but now she was one behind Zander.
Two pins later, she clipped the skin along with the metal, leaving the clothespin dangling, pulling at an awkward angle that made Spence’s breath hitch in constant, exquisite agony.
Zander moved lightning-fast to remove his, and Emmy did the same to dislodge her goof, but now she was two behind.
Zander got all eleven of his on the inner thigh without a single miss, and then it was time for him to take aim at the clothespin on Spence’s right nut.
The strike was surgical, the leather kissing steel without touching tender skin, the clothespin flying free as Spence arched with a strangled cry, relief and pain mingling in a shuddering wave.
Emmy stepped to him and removed her remaining two, secretly a little relieved she hadn’t been stressed by having to aim at one of his balls. She’d been overconfident in herability, not understanding the difference between normal clothespins and super-strong ones.
And Zander’s accuracy was flawless, the whip singing true each time.
“Well played,” she told Zander.
Her vampire stepped close, cool fingers tilting her chin up for a brief, claiming kiss. “You did remarkably well for someone so young. I’ve had millennia to perfect the technique. You’ve had mere years.”
They untied Spence together, carefully easing his legs down.
The moment he was standing, Zander told him, “Emmy needs popcorn, since she won’t get a foot massage. Run up to the kitchen and get her a large bowl — extra butter and salt. My cock will be waiting for your mouth to warm it when you return.”
Emmy walked out with Zander and took her seat on the sofa, arranging pillows and ottoman, pouring herself some lemonade.
When Spence returned with her popcorn ten minutes into the movie, Zander put a blindfold on him and had him stretch out on the sofa, his head in Zander’s lap, his mouth gently holding Zander’s soft cock.
Emmy curled against Zander’s side, feet tucked under her, the loss sweet in its own way. Their boy was still with them, serving in his role as submissive.
And it didn’t take her long to understand why Zander wanted her to see this movie. She’d heard stories of her AuntKirsten in the maze, as well as the fight at the end that made her the Erlkönigin, though her aunt preferred to be called Harlequin.
The Goblin King was a haunting presence and completely different from her aunt, but she loved the story, the visuals, and the strange, dark Faerie tale of it. Or, she supposed it was an Alfheim tale, rather than Faerie.
And she focused on the movie, rather than her aunt, who’d asked her questions rather than giving her answers. But in all fairness, if she found the answers to those questions, she’d know what she should do.
And really, she had the answers, she just had to figure out how to have the conversation with Zander.
Chapter 25
