VQ 02 - The Mark of the Vampire Queen

by The Mark of the Vampire Queen (v2. 0) (mobi)

  Devlin stepped back a respectful distance from Lady Lyssa’s divan and bowed. When he stripped off his clothing, he revealed his impressive organ, reminding Jacob of how monstrous the thing was.

  At the smatter of applause, Devlin grinned, turned in a dramatic circle to display himself. “They grow ’em big Down Under. When I crack a fat, the ladies run screaming.” He winced in the middle of a wink. “Ah, my lady doesn’t appreciate my demonstrative nature. She says if I know what’s good for me I’ll get my arse up on that platform.”

  Lyssa had given Jacob a tool to use, no pun intended. He had no idea what she wanted him to do with it, or if she just had that perverse vampire curiosity to see how he would use it to change the game. Her mind was closed to him. And when she shut down, he was all too aware that usually meant he was in some kind of trouble.

  Without any clues to solve that, he focused on the issue at hand. Keeping his cock firmly seated in Debra’s mouth, he grimly reflected it was serving as a pacifier of sorts. She was trying to suckle and lick at it as best she could with the bit, such that he had to grit his teeth to focus. Moving his hand over her hair in a part-tender, part-rough caress, he reminded her he was still in charge, her well-being as firmly in his hands as her body was.

  Malachi began to step back, his irritated look conveying his displeasure at being replaced and made to perform some lesser role, but Jacob shook his head. “Stay where you are. But don’t move yet. You’re going to fuck her.” God knew he wasn’t going to break Debra into anal sex on Devlin’s cock.

  Jacob met the man’s dark eyes. Like a pet who’d been too long with the same Master, Malachi had adopted his lord Belizar’s contemptuous stare. Jacob took private, vicious satisfaction in watching it vanish from his face with his next words.

  “After you’re inside of her, Devlin is going to ram that cock of his up your ass. Then you can fuck Debra to climax. You do anything I even think crosses the line, causes her any pain, I’ll tell Devlin to dish you out three times the same until your ass bleeds so thick everyone here could dine on it.”

  He’d never demanded one man fuck another, but he wasn’t allowed to put Malachi’s head through the wall.

  Perhaps he was not so different from Malachi. The longer he spent in the company of vampires, the more he found himself adapting to the different mores and violent rules of their world. When under the orders of their respective Mistresses, Devlin’s rank was far below Jacob’s. Jacob had the right to make demands on him in this setting, so he had.

  It affected his liking of Devlin not one bit. He anticipated sharing another “stubbie” with him later. Hell, probably a whole “slab” after this. He wanted to know Debra’s position on global warming. But right now a whole different set of rules applied.

  Devlin seemed to have no difficulty accepting the direction. The affability was gone, and he looked far more dangerous than Jacob had yet seen him. His eyes glittered, the red- and brown-streaked hair falling around the planes of his strong face. Perhaps through Lyssa’s communication with Danny, he’d picked up what was going on.

  “I like that idea fine,” he said, moving a step closer and pressing a bare thigh to the back of Malachi’s leg. “Haven’t had me a good prison rape in a long time. You’re the pretty poster boy of my dreams.” Rising on his toes, he put his mouth close to Malachi’s ear. “You know the best way to reeducate a dickhead who thinks violence is the proper way to treat a woman? Fuck him until he cries like a little girl.”

  Malachi trembled with fury and dared a glance at his Master. Jacob saw that Belizar and Lyssa had locked gazes. His lady had that same faint smile on her face, but it did not detract from the coldness of her eyes. If Belizar pulled Malachi out of the game, he was as much as admitting it wasn’t a game. Not that anyone here appeared to be under the delusion that their games were ever in fact simply games. Make Malachi stay up here, and he’d get ass fucked by a much lowerranking servant, a passive insult that Jacob had a feeling was Lyssa’s payback for Belizar’s earlier affront of Malachi trying to kill him. He wondered if that was the true reason Devlin was up here. Not to ward off harm from Debra, but to settle the unresolved nature of the power play between the two vampires. As he’d been told, the Gathering was an opportunity for new slaves to be taught what it meant to truly submit. Perhaps, like the other vampires, she’d not seen anything wrong with Debra’s rough initiation. Perhaps there was no wavering line for Lady Lyssa and the other vampires on the Dominance and submission issue. Maybe there was no line at all.

  No. There was a line. He thought of the servant he’d seen being branded earlier. The arousal, the lack of fear. He also remembered his lady’s words about Carnal and Melinda. If I’d known what he was going to do, I’d have stopped him…He let the image and words bolster his belief.

  Belizar cut his glance back to Malachi. When Malachi’s jaw flexed, Jacob felt a surge of cruel triumph, knew the man had been given the order to stay on the dais. Jacob inclined his head to Devlin.

  “I believe”—Devlin took his sizeable cock in one hand and put his other on Malachi’s back, pushing him so he had to bend forward, taking him inch by resisting inch to a curve over Debra’s body—“you have some lubricating to do, hmm?”

  Malachi reluctantly lifted the crystal bottle that had been provided. He uncorked it, drizzled the oil between Debra’s buttocks.

  “Work it into her now. Easy. Very easy. There’s a pleasure to initiating a lady to a proper arse fucking. She’ll come like she’s never come before, eh, darling?”

  Jacob blessed the sexy, soothing cadence of Devlin’s accent as he felt Debra’s lips convulse on him, her hips lift in an unmistakable welcoming move. Her eyes lifted and locked on Jacob’s face, however, as if the contact was giving her the courage to believe he would do as he said. Take care of her.

  He began to work himself in her mouth again, dividing her attention between the two stimuli of taking him into one opening while they prepared the other. The straining movement of her hips indicated her pussy was busy milking the sculpture’s shaft. Her toes flexed on the dais, pushing herself up and down in involuntary response.

  “There you go.” As Malachi began to ease into her opening, Devlin put his hands on the man’s hips, a warning. “All the way in, one slow inch at a time.”

  Debra groaned, vibrating against Jacob, making it difficult to focus. The undulation of her tongue became more frenetic, despite the fact it was restricted somewhat by the hold of the bit.

  When Malachi made it past Debra’s inner muscles, moving carefully, gently, Devlin took a more secure grip on the side of the man’s throat and waist and shoved his own now-oiled cock between Malachi’s cheeks. Malachi gasped, his powerful thighs trembling, his eyes tearing. A curse slipped between his lips.

  “Oh, there we are, balls deep now. Good thing your Master’s stretched you before or we might have had some messiness then. Bet that burns like a son of a bitch, don’t it?”

  Malachi grunted and Devlin started crowding him, putting his thighs in tight behind the other man, applying pressure as Malachi began to sink, slowly, gradually into Debra’s rectum. As Devlin rocked, Debra writhed. Jacob gripped her hair hard, stroking in and out of her, trying to control his own reaction at the feel of her wet mouth forced to take him in deep. Her hips rose to meet Malachi’s as he did his task as it was meant to be done, kept focused by Devlin’s slow pumping in and out of him.

  Debra made a strangled sound. “Not until I come,” Jacob ordered. “Your Master trained you. You know the rules. Don’t shame him.”

  She made a noise, half assent, half sob, in her throat. As Malachi fucked her ass, her wobbling breasts were rubbed in a ruthless friction against the face of the statue, the ridges of its brow and nose. Her nipples were erect and hard, such that Jacob indulged himself by reaching down and pinching one. Her hot breath expelled, gusting against his balls. He increased the power of his strokes, matching Devlin. As Devlin had gotten well seated, Malachi had adjusted and
now they were moving in sync, Malachi losing some of his fury to the power of forcibly provoked lust.

  Jacob’s control slipped another notch as his Mistress fed him the sight of it through her eyes. He didn’t know if she wanted him to see them as she was seeing them, or if she was too aroused to guard her thoughts, but the effect was the same.

  The torchlight had been angled to focus on the dais, making the musculature of the three men gleam. Devlin had a broad, rippling back, tight, hard buttocks that were rhythmically clenching as he fucked Malachi. Malachi’s arm muscles stood out in cords as he neared climax and gripped Debra’s ass even harder. His body curved over her, his chest rubbing against her lower back, his face almost pressed into her nape. Debra’s mouth was held open, restrained by the metal bit, her body draped and spread over the statue, her pussy impaled on the alabaster white cock so her juices were running down it like a fountain against the sleek marble. Malachi’s big cock moved in and out of her, her thighs spread so wide the attendees could see her stretched pink openings.

  And then there was Jacob, his cock glistening as he pulled it out of Debra’s mouth almost to the head and then shoved back in again, distending her cheeks, making her throat work, her helpless fingers curling against the restraint of his belt.

  As if this wasn’t enough to make him spurt, the black men, their oiled bodies gleaming, had taken hold of the “petals” and lifted their hips so they were straight legged. Each woman’s ankle crossed over the woman next to her, an organic binding that would make the vibration of their movements ripple throughout the whole circle. The men drove their cocks in as the women’s voices, aroused by what was going on above them, cried out in unison. The noise rose and connected them, creating an aphrodisiac Jacob suspected was far stronger than what had been around the slave girl’s neck.

  The women threw their heads back at the same time, the flow of hair like the toss of a sheet of silk in the air, a rippling wave of multiple colors. The men wrapped their big hands in it like reins, holding them at painful, revealing angles, breasts hanging down loosely and quivering from the shock as the men’s cocks pounded into them.

  The dais was turning—when had that happened? His gaze was full of the tableau from every angle, thanks to his lady and his own eyes. A dozen pale female asses, bobbing up. Dark, tightly packed ass muscles clenching as the men beat their cocks into the tight rosebud channels. Devlin’s head dropped back on his powerful shoulders as he shot his load into Malachi. Malachi cried out as it pushed him over. Debra’s gasp, her desperate look, got through to Jacob as she worked herself furiously on that stone cock.

  “Please …” the word was garbled with her mouth full of him.

  “Come,” Jacob snapped, and she screamed as her body instantly released, a flush sweeping over her skin as Malachi continued to fuck her, drawing out the sensation. Jacob came against the back of her hoarsely crying throat, reveling in the vibration he felt against the sensitive head. He kept going, stretching her jaws, knowing they must be aching, but knowing that, too, was part of the pleasure of being a sub. Pushing you past the point where you thought you could go.

  After all, his Mistress had done it to him. Again. The long, continuous shot of his semen down Debra’s throat told him he hadn’t failed her.

  As one, the men in the circle below pulled out and took their organs in hand for one, two quick strokes. The women spun around on their knees, their arms braced behind them, knees spread wide, bodies rising in an arch, heads tipped back. The men’s release shot against their breasts, so much like a fountain it couldn’t help but impress the assembled gathering.

  The viscous white fluids spilled down the women’s flat bellies, pooled in their navels and slowed like molasses, drawing the eyes down to the smooth mounds. Jacob’s cock convulsed once more and Debra moaned, taking him to the last drop. Brian didn’t know what a lucky bastard he was.

  “Jesus,” Devlin gasped, propping an elbow in between Malachi’s shoulder blades. Reaching down, he stroked the side of Debra’s hair and then even rubbed the back of Belizar’s servant’s neck with an absent affection, as if they’d just been two squabbling siblings. He was studying the aftermath of the “petals” and black men below them. “Can you imagine how awful it was to practice that? My woman would have had to wear protective goggles. My cock’s got no sense of direction at all.”

  Malachi pressed his forehead to the center of Debra’s back. Jacob heard a grim chuckle from him. “I suppose the only way you’re going to beat my ass in a sport is by fucking it. Get that mutation out of me, you great fucking horse.”

  “Well, you asked for it by being a right fucking arsehole, didn’t you? When she can think straight again, I think you better offer the lady an apology and a drink.”

  When Devlin removed himself and helped Malachi straighten so he could pull out, the conversation continuing between them, Jacob knelt before Debra. Unbuckling the bit, he eased it out of her mouth, soothing her jaws with his fingers as he did so. Her nose was running, her eyes tearing. He took a section of his shirt and dabbed at her. “All right, then?”

  She nodded, her eyes full of wonder and exhaustion. He doubted she could even rise from the sculpture.

  “You were beautiful. Outstanding. Where’s your Master?” he asked. Worthless piece of shit that he was.

  “Makeshift lab. He’s still testing some things.”

  Devlin looked down at himself in disgust. “Men,” he muttered. “Vile creatures that we are. I’m going to go clean up. Now my lady’s lovely arse is clean as—”

  “Devlin.” Lady Daniela had risen from her cushions. Her eyes were alight with rebuke, as well as bright lust, a promise that partially explained why Jacob’s new friend was suddenly in a hurry to excuse himself.

  In that regard, Jacob noted that their verbal exchange had gone largely unnoticed. After raising their glasses in tribute to the performance, the Council—in fact most of the attendees—had been impatient to find an outlet for the overwhelming wave of lust that had saturated the courtyard. He was surrounded by an out-and-out orgy, much less aesthetic than what had been orchestrated for their entertainment, but no less stimulating. Many vampires were taking their servants outright, or allowing themselves to be serviced the way Jacob had been. There were groupings of three and four, even five, and the sight couldn’t help but begin to stir him to life again.

  His gaze found his lady, still reclining on her divan, watching him, her dark eyes glittering. A still point in the storm. There was empty space around her, for no vampire would dare to approach her uninvited, no matter how strong his lust.

  Though he wanted to go to her, he was mindful of his duty to Debra. Helping her down from the platform, he freed her hands from the belt to rub her wrists. He pulled on his slacks, but when she made to take off the shirt, he shook his head, buttoning up several of the buttons, pushing away her protesting hands. Framing her face, he kissed her forehead, calling one of the masked servants to his side. “Escort this lady back to Lord Brian’s quarters to await his return.”

  To her, he murmured, “Council’s busy. Keep your head down, get out of here and you won’t be missed. You’ve had enough for one night. Put a hand over your mouth like you’re nauseous and no one will stop you. No shame to it. You’ve earned it. Screw ’em.”

  She nodded, her expression too dazed to argue. He slid her hand through the masked servant’s arm. Once he made sure the man understood his orders, he sent her off with a gentle pat to her bottom, a reassurance he felt she needed right now. When she reclaimed her Mensa-shattering mind, he’d enjoy teasing her about it.

  Now all he wanted was to be near his lady and hope not to attract any more attention tonight.

  But as he moved toward her, she deliberately tilted her head away from him, exchanging a comment with Lord Uthe, apparently the only other vampire not engaged in carnal activity. When Jacob knelt at her feet in just the slacks and attempted to lay a hand on her foot as he had before, she drew it away without loo
king in his direction. Puzzled, he rested his hand on his knee, waiting. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

  “Where’s your shirt?”

  “I let Debra keep it,” he said, knowing full well she had seen Debra’s departure. Was she hallucinating again?

  Before he could blink, she’d sat up on the divan and had her hand on his throat in an unforgiving tight grip, restricting his air flow. Her nails dug into his flesh, bringing him nearly off his knees. “I see most things quite clearly, slave.”

  He had to force himself not to try and pry her loose or defend himself in any way. It was always a struggle to submit to her when she was in this mood, but apparently his attempt to do so now ratcheted up her temperament further. It swept through him like heat from a volcano blast.

  Good. He could feel her fury. Lyssa wanted him to feel it. She was angry. Enraged. Not because Jacob had rammed his cock down a woman’s throat in front of her. Not because he’d come as a result of her wet tongue and the overwhelming vibrations of sex all around him. Not even because he’d thought Brian a very lucky man. All of that meant nothing.

  He’d championed Debra. Protected her. Of course, championing and protecting a woman were second nature to Jacob. Lyssa wasn’t special in that regard, and she didn’t need his protection and championing anyway, damn it. She’d expected no less than the ferocity he’d shown when Malachi threatened the girl, though the ruthlessness of how he dealt with it had surprised her as much as she’d felt it surprise him. Perhaps like Thomas, he was learning a little too much from his Mistress.

  No, what bothered her was that Jacob had chosen Brian’s servant. Out of a dozen women, he’d chosen her, as if he had a preference for her above the others. She was cold, so he’d put his shirt on her. He’d stood there before her, before this whole assembly, as if they did not exist. As if Lyssa did not exist. He’d threaded her arms through the sleeves, freed her hair from it and took her hands, bound them in the belt in a simultaneously uncompromising and gentle way that had gotten the juices of every woman watching flowing. As Lyssa had watched them stand there, her Irishman and the shy scientist, she’d seen the potential chemistry, the type of girl he would have loved, even married if his destiny hadn’t taken him to a vampire queen. Debra or someone like her could have given him children, a lifetime of quiet, domestic and enduring love. Lyssa had given him a death sentence. She hated it, hated the tender way he’d treated Debra, the regard he’d shown her…