by Renee Rose
“You need a new safeword, pet. Something unique.”
“Shrubbery?” she suggests and I bite back a grin.
“That will work.”
I sit in silence for a moment, letting her anticipation build. She fidgets, shifting her ass over one heel, then the other. Her wide eyes blink rapidly, breath shortens. She watches my face and I watch her back.
“Stand and disrobe.” I keep the order short. Concise.
She immediately jumps to obey. Her romper falls to the floor in a heap and she stands nude before me, her pretty nipples jutting out, her cunt dewy and ripe for the taking.
My cock throbs painfully against my leg, but I’m a master of control. A vampire in my position has to be. I’m not like a rutting wolf, who gives into his desire and marks his mate viciously. No, I bide my time. Make her tremble. Teach her obedience. My satisfaction comes in my dominion over her, not in some base release of my manhood.
I slowly rise from my throne, picking up a leash and hooking it to her collar. “Come, pet. I’m eager to mark your pale skin again.” I take the dragon’s tail with me, and a leather paddle.
She doesn’t miss any of it, her dilated eyes taking it all in with a flash of alarm. I lift my chin in the direction of a spanking bench. “Over there. Mount the bench, pet.”
I don’t miss the shiver that runs down her spine, but she obeys wordlessly, kneeling over the bench.
I buckle her wrists and ankles in and check them for tightness. Her pussy looks too delicious not to touch, so I sweep a finger over the dewy slit, spreading her natural lubricant up to her clit.
She arches her ass to me and I spank it, hard.
She’s a wolf, so pain means little. Any marks I leave will heal almost immediately. Some vampires love shifter subs for this reason. Some hate them--they prefer humans who will feel the full brunt of punishment for days.
I never had much of an opinion, but in this moment, I’m glad Selene is a little wolf. I’m too protective of her to want her to experience any lasting discomfort, even for pleasure’s sake.
“Ready for your spanking, Selene?”
She doesn’t answer, so I slap her ass again.
“Yes, sir.” Her words are slightly sullen, but I don’t miss the breathless quality to them. She’s excited but her pride keeps her from admitting it.
I palm the handle of the leather paddle. It’s a lovely instrument, flat and slappy. It makes for a great warm up--a little more harsh than the flogger or my hand, but still light and stingy.
I slap it once across the center of her buttocks and listen to her gasp. The mere sound of it gives me pleasure. I smack her again and pause for the reaction. I begin in earnest, slapping fast and quick, all over her pale globes.
The intensity surprises her, because she gasps and squirms, twisting her wrists against the cuffs. I love the way her ass clenches and quivers. After thirty or so strokes, she gets control of herself. The endorphins are starting to kick in as the blood rushes to her ass, turning it a rosy hue. She slows her breath and goes still, taking the spanks bravely.
So, of course, I stop.
“Getting warm, beautiful?” I squeeze one cheek roughly.
She growls a bit, totally unsubmissive.
I chuckle. “I think this ass needs something to clench around while I spank, don’t you?”
She’s wise enough not to answer.
I get a tube of lubricant from my toolbox and coat a small, stainless steel butt plug with it. “Open for your plug, pet.”
She immediately tightens her anus.
I wait.
After a moment, she blows out a breath, relaxing her ass. I press the bulbous tip to her tight rosette and apply slight pressure. After a beat, the muscles release. I push the plug forward and she gives a mewl of alarm.
“Easy, pet. Breathe. Big exhale.”
I wait until she obeys, then continue to press the plug in until it seats. She whimpers, a tremor shaking her inner thighs. Her juices leak from her cunt.
“Good girl.” I resume spanking with the paddle, lighter this time, but with the intent of jiggling her flesh and causing the plug to twist and move inside of her.
She moans and pants. Squirms and gasps.
I stop and twist the plug, pulling it out an inch before plunging it back inside her. Her gasp of surprise makes me harder than a rock.
“You’re not blooded, but is this ass virginal, too, little wolf? You may speak.”
“Yes, sir,” she whimpers.
“You like it, though, don’t you?”
“No!” she gasps immediately.
I pause, waiting for her to correct her mistake, but she doesn’t. I pick up the dragon’s tail. “No, sir, you mean.”
“No, sir,” she agrees quickly.
“Too late, love.” I flick the handle of the implement and the leather braid snaps down across her buttocks.
She gasps and her shoulders tense.
I wait a full ten seconds before I apply a second stroke, then only two beats before the third. I keep the rhythm unpredictable but slow, driving her into a pain-induced euphoria, each biting lash an invitation to sink deeper. To surrender fully.
She does, and quickly. She certainly has been trained in this regard. It’s more the pleasure part that appears foreign to her. Who were the idiots who trained her, anyway?
But why am I surprised? So many masters know only cruelty and greed for power. They lack the subtlety necessary to achieve the true balance of dominance and submission.
I stripe her ass thoroughly, then wait, listening to the sound of her frantic breaths. When they quiet, I reward her with a slow nuzzle of her clit.
She moans. I circle it with my forefinger, rub a little harder.
I pump the buttplug at the same time and her breath returns to pants.
“Beg,” I command. A single word. One she likely hates.
Her inner thighs quiver. She’s wetter than an ocean, but I’m loathe to let her come yet. Especially if she won’t beg.
I walk around to the front of the spanking bench, and unzip my pants.
She lifts her blue-grey eyes to my face, lust and confusion warring.
“Please me, Selene, and I’ll let you come.”
She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue.
I free my cock and rub it over her generous lips. She licks around the head with sloppy, uncoordinated movements. It’s harder without the use of hands.
I push into her mouth, fuck it. I know lots of doms will change up the rhythm so a sub can’t follow it, so she’ll choke and gag and grow fearful. I don’t play those games. I want her to enjoy pleasuring me, so I make it easy for her. Slow dips into her mouth, not too deep.
Her training shows now. She hollows her cheeks and sucks hard, her tongue swirling underneath my cock.
A shudder of pleasure runs through me, right down to my heels.
This little wolf...she does such things to me.
I grip the back of her head and fuck her mouth faster. “Good girl. Such a good cock-suck, aren’t you? Keep it up...just like that.” Pleasure gets on top of me, far before I expect it. My eyes roll back in my head.
“I’m coming,” I warn. I spend in her mouth and she swallows my essence down without complaint.
I stroke her hair back, run my thumb over her soft cheek. “Good girl,” I praise. “You’ve pleased your master.”
She lifts her gaze to mine, steady. There’s an unspoken appeal there.
“Yes, I’ll let you come, now, beautiful. You deserve the reward.”
I don’t unbuckle her. I want her captive for this. I stroke around behind her and fuck her with the plug a few times before I pull it out. Then I lick her from clit to anus and back again. I push her thighs open and feast between her legs, exploring her folds, fucking her with my tongue. When she’s moaning, I stop and spank her pussy--five firm swats.
She shrieks and moans, twists against the leather cuffs holding her ankles and wrists.
I
repeat the whole thing--first treating her with my tongue, then pussy-spanking her. Four more rounds and she’s a sobbing wreck.
“Please… please, sir. Let me come. I need to come now. Please, I can’t take it any more,” she babbles.
“You think you deserve to come now?” I spank her pussy.
“Yes! Yes, sir.”
I spank her again, three more times. I twist my little finger inside her tight channel and finger fuck her.
“You may come.” I manage to sound regal. Imperial, even, but I’m actually as moved as she is, lust rocketing through my limbs despite the fact that I just came in her mouth.
Something about seeing my proud, beautiful wolf so undone excites me more than anything has in the last century.
Be careful, Lucius. Don’t let this one get under your skin. Lose focus and you’ll miss the direction of the coup.
Selene’s walls squeeze my pinkie like a vise and her thighs quake as she comes and comes, her belly heaving against the padded leather bench, her bare breasts rubbing it with each breath.
I stifle a groan.
When she’s finished, I unbuckle her, wrap her up in a blanket and carry her to my throne. “You all right, pet?” I settle in my chair, with my treasured cargo in my lap.
Her head falls back, her mouth curved and eyes hazy with bliss. “I’m not dead yet.”
I chuckle.
“I will consume you as you consume me, and if we’re very lucky pet, we won’t both die of pleasure.”
It was a mistake, keeping her a virgin. For all her strength, she has no defenses against a slow seduction.
I enjoy her warm weight. She turns in my arms, mumbles something.
“What’s that, pet?” I smooth her hair down her back.
“I didn’t know it would feel this way,” she whispers.
“How does it feel?”
Her lips shape the words but barely any sound comes out. “Good. It feels good.”
Chapter 6
Selene
“It’s almost dawn. We need to go,” Lucius tells me. I jerk awake his arms.
“I lost track of time.” This night has lasted a moment and forever. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Lucius enjoyed cuddling me on his throne. He doesn’t let me walk to the car, either, settling into the seat.
The shadows play over his patrician features as the car moves. Even if he wasn’t the King of the Vampires, Lucius would be quite a catch.
His looks are part of his power, the fine blade of beauty able to cut deep. Being the sole focus of all that beauty and power is a heady experience. Is this what he does every night? Tie up submissives and dazzle them?
When I ask him, his lips curve--either because of my question, or because of my cheek. “Not every night. And I don’t need to tie anyone up. I’m dominant to everyone I meet.”
“I know that.” I almost roll my eyes, stopping myself from being a brat. “I meant--”
“I know what you meant, pet,” he interrupts, and continues gently, “I’ve never reserved the club for my personal use before.”
“Oh,” I try to ignore the warmth curling through me. I can’t help it. I feel special. Lucius looks amused and I mentally kick myself. I shouldn’t care what Lucius thinks of me. I shouldn’t be like this, relaxed and happy in his arms.
I try to escape and his hold tightens. His lips find my ear. “Do I dazzle you?” He nuzzles my hair.
“No,” I lie. His arms squeeze me as he laughs. Gah, that laugh. I could live in it.
“I think I do.”
I bite my lip, wishing I was better at hiding from him.
“Will you tell me about her? Your vampire lover?”
Lucius sighs. He leans back in the seat, taking me with him. For a few minutes he’s silent, nuzzling my hair like he’s a big dog fascinated by a kitten. I should be stiff and scared, trapped in the arms of a bigger predator, but no, my silly wolf likes the attention. “Georgianna was my first submissive. My last. There have been other submissives I’ve employed at the club, ones I’ve shared with other vampires, but none like her. I met her when she was still human, but even as a vampire, she was so alive. So full of life.”
“Did you turn her?”
“No. She belonged to another.” His lip curls. “He took advantage of her sweet nature and turned her.”
My throat’s clogged up. Why did I even ask? He obviously loved Georgianna. Maybe her death made him the ruthless ruler he is today. “You didn’t approve?”
“I’m no hypocrite. I wanted her as much as he did, but I would’ve done things differently. Creating a vampire...requires a delicate balance of power. They’re so dependent in the beginning. Physically as well as emotionally.” He stares out the window at the passing desert. “In the beginning, they will do anything to please you.”
“And later?”
I sense the change before his fingers retreat. I want to push into his hand, beg silently for the return of his touch like an eager pet.
“Eventually they hate you.” His tone is formal, distant. “All that love runs out.”
When the limo stops, the sky over the mountains is lighter, the night easing to make way for the dawn. We’re cutting things close, but Lucius doesn’t seem to mind.
He insists on carrying me into his home and bathing me. His cock is so hard it juts out from his body, but he makes no move to satisfy himself again. Lucius the ruler makes way for Lucius the good dom, taking consummate care of his charge without a hint of cruelty or selfishness. He washes and dries me, carrying me to my room. He lays me on the bed and spreads my hair out on a towel so the wet strands won’t touch my pillow, and the whole time his doting mask never slips.
I have to remember that he’s a monster. A murder of innocents. I can’t forget what he did to my family, my pack.
But when I search his face, I find no hint of cruelty in the patrician lines of his face. He runs his fingertips lightly over my neck and forehead, and I drift deeper under his spell. My mind holds fast to my plan for revenge, but my body is all too willing to forget.
“How many vampires have you turned?” I ask as he stretches out beside me on his side, propping his head up on his left hand, leaving his right hand free to play with my hair.
“Too many too count.”
“Are they all here? In Tucson?”
“Yes. They follow me. In the beginning they are dependant on my blood to survive. I wean them, but old habits die hard.”
“Wow. I didn’t know there were that many vampires here.” Tucson’s big, but not that big. If he’s turned countless vampires and they’re all here... How many square miles does each vampire need to hunt? Do they divide territory by distance or population and potential victims? Either way, it’s a wonder the human news hasn’t gotten wind of them. Strange disappearances, blooded corpses...
“You misunderstand, pet. There aren’t that many of my sired left.”
“Why not?”
I told you, pet, they turn on me. I don’t allow insubordination. Traitors don’t live long.”
“Oh,” I say weakly. “Of course not.”
Lucius keeps playing with my hair like we’re talking about the weather. He takes a strand and brushes it against my cheek, murmuring, “How do you think my maker died?”
I can’t believe I’m lying here, next to the Vampire King, talking death and politics. “I guess you didn’t become king by mandate of the masses,” I mumble.
He chuckles, and keeps tickling my face with my hair.
“What happened to Georgianna? Is she still alive?”
“No,” Lucius says, and pulls his hand away. I press my lips together, keeping my questions in, and after a few moments he resumes stroking my brow.
I stare at the ceiling. Outside, the sky lightens to a rich navy blue. The high windows frame one bright star. Venus. The morningstar. Dawn’s coming, and any second Lucius will leave me.
For now, he seems content to lie beside me and watch me. Is this normal? Am I so f
ascinating? Two thousand years, and his maker and his lover both died at his hands, along with countless vampires he sired.
“So, over the years, one way or another, everyone close to you has died?”
The heavy silence is my answer.
“Sounds lonely,” I tell the ceiling.
“Pet,” his sigh creaks in my ear. “you have no idea.”
Selene
Over the next few days, I fall into a dream. Lucius must have shut down Club Toxic for the whole week, because he takes me there again and again to train me.
“I’m going to break you in, pet. Bring you to heel…”
Maybe it’s what he told me of Georgianna, or how much I look like her, but I find myself striving for Lucius’ approval as if I’m competing with his first submissive.
I’m not jealous of his first love. I’m not. I just want to entice Lucius as he entices me.
I tell myself I’m being smart, gathering intelligence. But I haven’t made any inroads to finding a way to get his guard down. The only time he lets his guard down is after a scene, and I can’t exactly stake him during aftercare. He wouldn’t expect it, but I’m in no position to outmaneuver him, not while I’m recovering from the ecstasy he unleashes.
There are stretches when Lucius leaves me to run his empire, but he works me over beforehand. I sleep while he’s gone, and when I wake, he’s with me, ready to play again.
One night, after a heady session, I wake to him leaning over me.
“What--?” I croak and he shushes me.
“It’s all right, my pet. It’s just a nightmare.” The question must show on my face because he explains. “You were crying out in your sleep.”
“I…” I swallow to wet my throat. “I was?”
“Here.” He hands me a glass of water. I often wake to find water and chocolate on my bedside table. His way of caring for me if he can’t be here when I wake.
I drink and rub my face, clearing the cobwebs out of the corners of my mind. I’ve had nightmares since my family was killed, but no one, not even my foster mother, ever entered my room to comfort me. I’ve always been alone.
