Chapter 10
Spence got right to it, and he was naked within moments. Emmy was warm in her sweater, so she pulled it off and folded it with Spence’s clothes.
Zander circled Spence, inspecting him, and then walked to Emmy and ran a finger under her bra strap. “So fucking sexy, no matter what you’re wearing. Go pick a couple of implements from the wall. A flogger and strap? Whatever strikes your fancy.”
She stepped to the wall and noted a cabinet had been unlocked and opened.
Standard procedure of the owner of a dungeon, to lock his personal tools up, but she noted her own pieces were also in the cabinet, all together at the right.
It seemed the organizer had put all of her things where they belong.
“And if I want to flog him in our bedroom?” she asked.
“I have a few pieces I keep in there that you’re welcome to use.
If you want to move something from here to there, that’s fine.
Totally up to you.” She heard him moving around behind her, and then, “Spencer, get with Matty about purchasing an armoire that will fit the room. Something we can put our sex toys in, to get them out of my closet.”
“Yes, Sir.”
And then Spence gasped. No. Not a gasp — it was as if the air went out of him.
She turned to see Spence looking whiter than normal, and Zander telepathed, I withdrew my power without warning him. He’ll be fine.
The scent of their boy’s arousal went up astronomically, so having it yanked like that absolutely worked for him.
Before she chose her torture tools, Emmy lowered the winch. Zander walked their boy under it and had his wrist cuffs connected to the chain in seconds. Emmy lifted the mechanism until Spence was on his toes, and then Zander lovingly placed the blindfold.
She rolled one of the carts across the room with two floggers, a strap, a cane, and a tawse. She noted Zander had several floggers, including a cruel plastic one for Spence’s cock. Also, a wooden ruler she figured he’d thwap his cock with. Or his balls. Or both.
The two worked in tandem, quickly finding a rhythm. Zander’s flogger landed across Spence’s chest and abs, and Emmy figured he was aiming for his nipples, based on the way Spence danced under the winch.
Emmy started with the strap, concentrating the pain into a narrow area on his ass cheeks first, then his thighs.
Zander changed to the small plastic flogger and aimed at Spence’s cock, and Emmy switched to the tawse, layering the heavy, deep impacts over the marks left by the strap.
Their boy’s scent was a soft, heathery scent of pain layered over the spiciest scent of arousal — not quite hot peppers, maybe more of a paprika scent, though that wasn’t it either.
As long as the pain didn’t turn sour, they were fine, and she loved scenting all the levels she could take him, the farther he got into subspace.
When she had a good base of bruising, she switched to the cane to decorate him with lines. She started with horizontal lines, starting from the top of his cheeks and moving down, then stepped to his other side and changed to a diagonal.
After three strikes, she paused to consider the pattern she was making. Not diamonds, exactly. Tilted rhombuses was accurate, but it didn’t sound very sexy.
Two more strikes, and he fought to relax his ass muscles after tensing them. The movement made her angled grid flex and shift, and it made her see the pattern of parallelograms — a vector field embossed on living flesh. So pretty.
She worked hard to keep the spacing even, which meant she only had four more strikes, but that was okay. He still had plenty of bare flesh on the backs of his thighs.
Zander let Spence down a few inches, then put a spreader bar between his ankles, forcing him back onto his toes.
And then went to work torturing his balls. She assumed he was probably using the ruler on them as well as his cock, but she remained focused on the job at hand.
She’d planned to flog his upper back, but he was far too deep into subspace for that to be enough for him. She walked to the wall and selected a three-foot-long, beautifully braided horsewhip.
She lifted it and analyzed the heft — kangaroo, if she wasn’t mistaken, with extra weight in the core along with a graceful taper for extra control.
And the tight braid made it stiff enough, it would hurt beautifully. Zander had probably paid thousands for it.
She paused behind Zander on the way back to see what the vampire had been up to. Spence’s nipples were firecracker red, along with his belly — not to mention his cock. It’d been flogged until it was bright, bright red, and then had deeper red lines from the ruler.
And she got a view of what Zander was doing to their boy’s balls — pulling the ruler back to the point of breaking and then letting it crash into his right ball. Spence yelped and jerked, his eyes hidden behind the blindfold.
Zander caressed both balls softly, waiting until Spence relaxed before taking aim again, holding the ruler at the brink for three dozen seconds, upping his fear, lacing the anticipation with a thrilling, electric dread until Spence let out the breath he was holding, and then Zander released it to impact his right ball again, when Spence was probably expecting it on his left ball.
His cock was so hard it shined, straining upward through all the sensations, which he likely could no longer differentiate between pleasure and pain.
Over the years, various masochists had told her that once they are deep in subspace, touch is touch, and whether it provides pleasure or pain, it’s all just different kinds of sensual input.
Spence’s thighs and calves trembled, and his ankles worked to keep his toes on the ground when he jerked and writhed.
She moved behind Spence and leaned on the anticipation deal Zander had going, throwing the whip away from him a few times before she struck his back with it.
And then waited for him to relax before she did it again.
She started without much force, getting used to it, but it didn’t take her long to strike hard enough to bring blood to just under the skin, without actually breaking it.
She wouldn’t strike this hard with a human, but if she fucked up and tore into him, he could change later, to heal it.
Or not, if she and Zander wanted him to have to live with it while it healed. Either would be fine, since there was zero chance of infection.
They continued another ten or fifteen minutes, and just when she was thinking it was probably time to get him down, Zander walked around to look at what she’d done.
“Oh, his ass is beautiful. Such an artist, you are.” A pause, and then, “He’s a little disappointed it’s over.” He held out his hand. “May I?”
She handed him the whip, and he delivered twenty-four fast strikes with the whip, one-after-another without pause.
He started on his back, then did the backs of his legs before moving back up.
Spence screamed through it all, and then hung limp by his wrists when it was over, sobs tearing from his chest.
“Thank you, Master!”
“You’re most welcome, Dearest. We aren’t finished with you, however.” He put his arm around Emmy. “Come, you’ll like what I have planned next, I believe.”
He pulled what amounted to a fancy-schmancy carved wooden sawhorse a few feet in front of Emmy and handed her a rubber band, then telepathed an image of her bent over it, snapping Spence’s balls, dick, and inner thighs while Zander fucked her ass.
Her breath caught and blood pulsed to her clit. Something new she’d never done before: torture someone while being assfucked.
Zander gave a sexy chuckle that bordered on smug, then began to strip.
Emmy bent to remove her boots and shed her clothes — then examined the band. Nearly a quarter inch wide, and with strong elasticity so it would bite like fuck when she popped him with it.
She leaned over the sawhorse, stood, moved it a few inches back, and leaned back over it. She felt cool lube being injected inside her, and waited until Zander removed the small device before wiggling her ass at him.
And then his cock pressed against her hole, and he pressed inside. She spread her feet wide and leaned all the way forward so she could feel him opening her, spreading her.
A cool hand held her hip. The other caressed her back.
So warm. He telepathed. Perfect, Emmy. You are perfect.
When he was all the way in, she lifted her body to find a comfortable angle, and ended with her head and shoulders mostly vertical, the base of her torso horizontal, and her back arched sharply.
Every time Zander drove in deep, the thick stretch of him burned deliciously against the tight ring of muscle, friction so intense it bordered on too much.
The angle forced her to take him to the root each time, the blunt pressure inside her shifting with every thrust, pressing forward against places that made her thighs tremble and her breath hitch.
And then she assessed Spence — balancing on his toes, body marked, clearly floating.
And he had no idea what was coming. Should she touch him first, then use the band? Or use the band out of the blue?
No. She wanted to draw his focus to where she was about to hurt him. She wrapped her hand around his cock, jacked him slowly twice, then let go and trailed a finger from the head of his cock to a spot near the base, and she traced a little circle with her finger.
And then aimed the rubber band and snapped that spot, dead center.
Spence jerked and screamed beautifully, and his scent was full of panic, sensation overload, and sweet, sweet pain.
She repeated the process, but traced the circle just below the head of his cock before snapping the band. Then on his inner thighs. Directly onto the head of his cock. Back to the shaft. His right ball, then the left. Back to his inner thighs.