by Jo Carlisle
“You lose,” she said softly. “Never turn your back on your opponent.”
“But we were finished!” he spluttered in outrage. And yeah, embarrassment. Because the onlookers who were so impressed with his win before were now snickering and not bothering to hide their derision. Gods, how embarrassing.
“The battle is never finished. Not until the enemy is dead. You know that, but you’ve gotten soft.”
His face burned. Fuck, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so humiliated. In all fairness, he’d invited defeat in exactly the way she’d said. But that didn’t mean he had to like that she was right.
“Sonofabitch.” Flipping his sword toward her, hilt up, he nodded. “I yield.”
Taking his weapon, she handed both swords to a young boy who hovered nearby, then removed her breastplate. The kid took all three of the items and left them alone.
Turnabout was fair play, so she helped him up with a smirk and gestured for him to walk ahead of her. “Inside.”
“Then what?”
“We’re going to get showered, and then you’ll wait for me in your room.”
“I can’t shower with my mistress?” Over his shoulder, he gave her his best pout.
It didn’t work. “If I wanted you to shower with me, I’d tell you.”
“Damn, you’re a hard-ass.”
“Pardon me?” Her glare could’ve melted a polar ice cap.
“Nothing, mistress,” he added. He wisely fell silent, not speaking again until they were upstairs. “What do you have planned for me?”
“And spoil the surprise? I think not. Now run along and do as I told you. Be ready in ten minutes.”
“Come on. That’s hardly enough time to catch my—” The half-formed argument suffered a swift death in the face of a single arched brow from Kass. “Ten minutes. Gotcha.”
“Good boy.” Trailing a fingernail the length of his jaw, she gave him a genuine smile that reached her eyes.
“I’m beginning to think you can be taught. After tonight, we’ll know for sure.”
6
Luc watched her walk to her room, disappear inside, and close the door. He’d be furious with that woman and demand that she send him home after such a crushing defeat—if he wasn’t so hard just wondering what she had in store for him.
Shit. In his room he stripped off his wet, grungy clothes and tossed them into the built-in hamper in the bathroom. Quickly, he washed and rinsed his hair, then did the same with his body, taking a little extra care with the dangly bits. Hopping out, he dried off and then stalked into the bedroom again, musing over what to wear.
Considering their bet and the prize due to the winner, he was gonna take a really wild guess and say…nothing. That probably explained why he had been given a mere ten minutes to get clean.
So, he parked his naked ass on the bed and waited. He didn’t have long to wonder what his mistress had planned. In less than two minutes she was striding into the room, wearing an eye-popping combination of lacy purple panties, high heels that showed off toned legs going up to there, and a bustier that pushed her generous breasts up to nearly overflowing the cups.
“Saints,” he muttered, pushing from the bed to stand at attention. His cock twitched in interest and began to do the same. She stopped before him, giving him a long, considering look as he fought not to squirm. “Kass—I mean, mistress?” he began uncertainly.
His dick was at full mast, hard and aching. How ironic that he felt as unsure as the virgin he’d been more than three centuries ago. There was something that drew him to Kass—something more than her physical strength, fighting skills, and her intelligence. Whatever it was, it beckoned him like the moth to the proverbial bug zapper, and he was helpless to resist. His need for her was powerful, not to be denied.
He couldn’t wait to submit again.
“Your eagerness is written all over your handsome face,” she said knowingly.
Since the comment didn’t require an answer, he remained quiet, watching her. Suddenly, a strip of leather appeared in her palm and he blinked. Had it been there all along? No, he was sure nothing had been in her hand. He raised his gaze to her in question.
“I can translocate myself and another person, so it stands to reason that I’d be able to do the same with other things.” She shrugged. “That’s about the extent of my magic, though.”
“That’s really cool.”
“Glad you approve.” Her mouth curved. “Come here.”
He went to her and stopped, waiting obediently. She rewarded him by showing him the item she held—a black collar with a gold clasp, studded with aqua stones.
“They match your eyes.” She paused, studying him as though she could see deep into his soul. “This is your collar, the symbol that will show everyone you belong to me. You’ll wear it from now on, if you accept it. I won’t force it on you, so this is your chance to refuse—the only one you’ll get.”
He stared at the collar. My brothers are going to give me so much shit about this. “No, mistress. None. I—I want to be yours.”
Until today, he hadn’t realized how very true that was. Maybe this fever for Kass was a temporary affliction he’d get over after a few weeks or months of mutual satisfaction? Somehow he didn’t believe so. The idea scared him a little, but it also fascinated him. Unlike Soren, he’d never met anyone special enough to allow a permanent place in his life.
Could Kassandra be…Gods, could she be his mate? He sucked in a shocked breath, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Good. Because I want that, too.”
Leaning forward, she took his lips in a lingering kiss. She smelled so fantastic, like flowers after a summer rain, clean and crisp. Her scent and the kiss gave him a buzz to rival the finest liquor in his cabinet at home. But too soon she pulled away, leaving him wanting more.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” she told him with a throaty laugh. “You’ll be plenty worn out by the time I’m finished with you.”
“Damn.” He groaned, palming his erection, but she shook her head.
“No cheating or this will be the shortest session on record. Now turn around.”
Reluctantly he released himself and did as he was told. The leather strip was cool as she settled it against his throat, and surprisingly not restrictive as she buckled it. Had he expected the thing to take on a life of its own and strangle him? Of course that didn’t happen. Strangely, the collar and what it symbolized posed no threat to him.
He felt…safe.
She motioned for him to follow as she walked out of his chambers. The simple fact that he was not freaking out should be freaking him out. Right? He should also feel ridiculous padding stark naked through the corridors, past servants and a couple of muscled men he’d pegged as guards, though they hardly raised a brow at the sight. Truthfully, they’d seemed much more taken aback when he’d put Kass on the ground.
He should feel stupid—but he didn’t.
Their path took them into an entirely different wing from the one where his and Kass’s quarters were located. The walk took just a few minutes but seemed endless in the huge palace. It was just enough time for him to wonder where she was taking him—and how many men she’d escorted to their destination before. The thought of being one of many, nothing special, made him want to hit something. With an effort, he pushed the anger aside.
Kass led him down a flight of stairs, the length of another corridor, and through a doorway at the end. They’d arrived, and he could only stare. He’d seen many playrooms in his existence, but…
“A dungeon,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “I haven’t seen anything remotely like this since my brothers and I left France in 1720.”
“And this is a very special dungeon. Look around and tell me what you see, specifically.”
He studied the various devices, unable to suppress a shudder. “There are several racks, whips, hoods, blindfolds, mouthpieces, spreader bars, harnesses—”
“Reach out, beyond you
r vision. What do your senses tell you?”
Blinking, he tried to settle and look past the obvious.
The vast space resembled a dungeon, not unlike those of Europe long ago. The place was dark, with gray stone walls that appeared natural in flickering torchlight, the rock jutting out here and there. It was a cave, he realized. Their descent had taken them underground where the stone composing the room was indeed authentic.
But while the devices within were fashioned to appear old, they were actually made with modern, high-quality materials and designed for comfort—and for eliciting sublime ecstasy from the subject. For the ultimate sexual experience. Gathering his thoughts, he answered her question as best he could.
“This is a place of dark pleasure, where the master or mistress can assert total ownership. Complete control. And can teach the submissive, showing the beauty of enslavement.” He paused, his heart in his throat, and said quietly, “Even the strongest are reduced to quivering jelly here…and I’m guessing they beg for the privilege.”
“And you’re correct about all of it,” she murmured, gazing at him in approval. “There are many playrooms in the palace, each built with a different theme or feel in mind. But this one is by far my favorite. It suits my personality, and I believe you’ll come to enjoy and appreciate it as well.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“You won’t.” She sent him a feral grin. “I won’t let you. Now, go stand in front of that rack and spread yourself for me.”
He looked to where she pointed, and his heart jumped. His erection had waned some during the walk from his chambers, but it now returned to full attention, eager to get on with pleasing his mistress and, in doing so, reap untold rewards.
Walking over, he positioned himself with his back to the polished wooden rack. A padded board about five inches wide supported his spine from shoulder blades to tailbone, and he pressed against it. He spread his legs shoulder width, his heels in the designated slots. Raising his arms over his head, he did the same with his wrists. He figured he resembled the letter X, his body ready for whatever she had in mind.
His mistress closed the distance and knelt, fastening straps around his ankles, then stood and did the same to his wrists. She backed up and surveyed him, and he felt acutely vulnerable, presented to her like a feast for the devouring. An ironic state for a vampire to find himself in.
“Did you notice this is a stretching rack?” she asked, that glint present in her eyes again.
Oh gods. “No. I didn’t notice.”
“Well, it is. It’s designed to test your physical and emotional limits—as with everything I’ll do to you while you’re bound to it.”
“And what will you do to me?” he rasped.
“Hmm, thousands of years ago, my Valkyrie ancestors used to bind their male slaves to a contraption like this.” She fingered his unprotected sac, manipulating it gently. “The mistress would spread special oils over her slave’s body, paying close attention to his erogenous spots—nipples, inner thighs, balls, and cock. When he was slick, hard, and aching, she would wrap his cock in tiny ropes, then tie off his balls so that they were presented proudly. She’d play with him for a while but wouldn’t let him come.”
“Blazing hell.” A trickle of sweat rolled down his temple. She continued to squeeze his balls.
“Yes,” she went on. “The poor slave was in such torment, he’d agree to anything she wanted. He belonged to her completely. His body and soul were hers.”
“And then?”
“She’d choose a toy, perhaps a large phallus, and fuck him with it, still not allowing him release. And when he was writhing mindlessly, she’d bury it to the hilt and retrieve a dagger for the ritual sacrifice.”
He swallowed hard. “She killed him?”
“Not usually. Most of the time, she simply accepted his willing token of her ownership.” As he watched, his mistress turned to retrieve a bottle from a table. Then she came back to him, tipping it to pour a generous amount onto her fingers. She rubbed the golden oil on his chest, making sure to pinch each nipple, which sent little jolts to his limbs and to his cock.
“Wh-what did it entail, this token?”
“Patience, slave.”
As she worked the oil over his skin, he lost the ability to speak. His mind was snared in the wonderful, electric sensations she produced in his body, in her control over him. Her hand slid down his flat belly to his shaft, coated it thoroughly, pumping until his hips tried to join the rhythm despite his limited movement. Then she worked his balls, and behind them, to his perineum.
“Oh shit,” he groaned. Seeking fingers slid farther, rimming his asshole. Circled round and round, driving him insane. No lover had done this in ages, and he wanted it badly. Needed. “Please…”
“Do you like this, dirty boy?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Please, play with my ass,” he begged. “Fill me, fuck me….”
Laughing softly, she withdrew momentarily to move behind him. His ass cheeks were spread, and he felt a dark thrill at being open to her gaze. At her mercy. Then her fingers were back again, two of them slipping into his hole, slicking him, stretching. In and out she fucked him slowly, and her finger crooked, finding that walnut-sized gland, stroking it to shoot fireworks to every nerve ending.
“Gods!” he yelled. His balls drew up.
“No coming.” She punctuated the order with a stinging slap to one ass cheek.
The sharp blow helped him regain control. He didn’t want to ruin things by shooting too quickly.
Removing her fingers, she came around in front of him. “I think I’ll tie that impressive package of yours before we go on. That will help you not to come.”
And prolong the sweet agony. His mistress retrieved a ball of fuzzy-looking string. It might appear innocuous, but he knew that in her hands, it would be anything but.
She started by wrapping his dick in a crisscross pattern, from what little he could see craning his neck to look down at himself. From the head to the root, the new decoration reminded him of the tongue of a tennis shoe with the laces crisscrossing it. Then he lost his ability to form a coherent thought when she tied the string around the base of his cock, right above his balls. She pulled it tight enough to put plenty of pressure on his sac, but not harm him. He hoped.
“Would you like to see?”
He nodded. Presenting him with a large handheld mirror, she angled it so he could view himself. It resembled a really wicked present, wrapped and waiting to be opened at her whim. When she was satisfied he’d gotten a sufficient look, she laid the mirror aside and grabbed a large object from the table.
Her smile was predatory. “My favorite. Ten inches, solid marble.”
His eyes widened. His mouth worked, but no sound emerged. It had to be the biggest phallus he’d ever come across. The white and gold veined thing was as thick as his wrist, maybe thicker. His ass clenched in self-defense, but there was nothing he could do to stop her from using him.
Which made him need to come all the more. He would have if not for his balls being restricted.
“Before I blindfold you, I wanted you to know what I’m going to use on your ass. How I’m going to make you scream.”
Temporarily, she laid the toy aside to grab a black scarf. After folding it over twice, she placed it over his eyes, shutting out the room. Tying it at the back of his head, she moved away. He could hear her rustling around. Moving a few things on the table perhaps, picking up the phallus. Without his sight, the rest of his senses sharpened—not just his hearing, but his sense of smell as well. The added senses gave the scene an exciting, dark edge.
“Do you like being blindfolded?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid?”
He licked his lips. “A little. I’m not too proud to admit it.”
“It’s okay to be a tiny bit fearful, as long as it’s simply the thrill of the unknown you’re feeli
ng. You’re not truly afraid of me, are you?”
Pausing, he thought about that. “No,” he said with confidence. “You’ve done nothing so far but give me pleasure.”
“And I’ll continue to do so—for both of us.” She wanted him on edge with anticipation and arousal, and she’d achieved both.
His muscles quivered as she parted his ass cheeks again. The head of the instrument breached his hole and he hissed at the burn, pulling at the restraints on his wrists. He was held fast. Her prisoner. Slave. Fuck toy.
“Relax and give yourself to your mistress. Surrender, vampire.”
The struggle rose up within him, unbidden. Never had he given completely all that he was. Never had he granted another total dominion.
“I—I can’t.” But he knew that wasn’t true, and so did his mistress.
“You can.” The hardness pressed inside, inch by inch.
He panted, heart fluttering in mild apprehension at the sheer size of the object penetrating him. “I don’t…”
“Stop fighting, my vampire,” she murmured, pushing it deeper. “Oh, how beautiful you look, the shiny marble stretching your hole wide.”
“Mistress,” he pleaded. For what, he wasn’t sure. Couldn’t think.
“Yes, I’m your mistress, love. I’m fucking your pretty ass, watching this rod part your flesh. How does it feel?”
He couldn’t deny the pleasure rising to almost smother him. “Good. So full.”
“Surrender.”
“Oh. Yes,” he moaned, his voice breaking.
Something broke free inside him. His bones melted as she fucked the marble shaft in his channel, driving him higher until he was nothing but sensation. Flesh and blood answering to her demand. When she pushed the phallus all the way into the hilt and left it there, he could do nothing but hang in his restraints and wait. Whatever her desire, he’d gladly give.
