Chapter 23
Emmy caught movement across the stage and turned her head to watch Zander step forward, his presence a quiet storm.
He pressed Spence over the padded table and hiked the flimsy toga up, exposing the side of Spence’s ass to the audience.
Spence was facing Emmy, but his eyes were closed, and when he arched his back and opened them, he was looking over her head, as if trying to stand while Zander’s iron control held him down.
Spence’s voice came out higher pitched than normal, trembling with a young apprentice’s plea. “Master, I beseech you, spare me this taking — I am but a novice, unfit for such honor.”
Zander’s lips curved into a predator’s smirk, and he adjusted Spence’s toga higher. “You’ll learn, apprentice,” Zander said in a low, commanding voice while he positioned his cock, which she couldn’t see from her angle, but could guess what the audience was seeing.
Emmy felt the heat build, her own role looming, but this opening act set the tone — power, plea, and the promise of more.
Spence braced against the table. “Please don’t! Sir, I am not ready!” His pitch cracked perfectly, and Zander paused, letting the tension stretch, then moved with a slow thrust, choreographed but intense, Spence’s whine and clear pain blending with the crowd’s approval.
Spence braced against the table, his scream a raw, high-pitched wail that tore through the room with increasing panic as Zander’s thrust deepened.
His body jolted, hands scrabbling at the table’s edge, voice cracking into frantic pleas.
“No, Master, it burns, please stop!” He thrashed, toga slipping from his shoulder, exposing the strain in his muscles, his face a mask of exaggerated agony.
Zander’s hand clamped down on Spence’s neck, his low voice slicing through the noise.
“Cease this disgrace, boy, or I’ll have you flogged in the public square.
Compose yourself and silence this racket, or bear the shame of a miscreant’s lash.
” The threat hung heavy, a Roman patrician’s cold authority, and Spence’s cries faltered, his body stilling into a tense submission, the audience’s murmurs swelling with approval as the power shifted back to Zander’s command, and he plowed Spence’s ass fast and hard while Spence moved as if he was in great pain, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Emmy’s pulse raced. She loved this, the drama, the eyes on her, and Zander’s lead promised a night of fire. She couldn’t wait to play her part.
She grinned, turning to her vampire so her back was to the audience, and he lifted her onto the table with a smirk.
She went to her back and lifted her legs into a V while someone handed him a bowl of wine.
He sprinkled it over her pussy while chanting Latin, and a thrill coursed through her veins.
She arched, playing the part of the young maiden willingly sacrificing her virginity.
Emmy’s heart raced as poetic-sounding Latin flowed melodiously over her … accipe hanc virginem puram … sanguinem pudicitiam eius in donum accipe … sacrificium voluptatis aeternae…
The low, commanding chant sent shivers up her spine, and she translated it to English in her head: Nurturing Venus, Father Bacchus, I invoke you: this pure virgin we give to you, with her blood and chastity we make sacred rites, libated with wine and blood, open her to us, that she may become a sacrifice of eternal pleasure.
She arched higher, legs still spread in that shameless V, playing the part to perfection while her body betrayed how much she craved the real defilement to come.
He set the bowl aside and rearranged his toga so it split down the front to reveal a massive cock, already granite hard.
He quickly positioned himself and then plunged in without warning, a single violent thrust that split her wide and would’ve been a major shock for a virgin, so Emmy screamed as if she’d never been penetrated before, raw and theatrical.
When she thrashed, two vampires in togas stepped to the table to hold her down through the ritual deflowering, cool hands on her forearms and shoulders, pressing her to the table.
“It hurts, stop, it’s too much!” she wailed, thrashing against their grip, her act dialed up for the audience.
The burn felt glorious, his size filling her in ways that sent sparks through her core, her struggles only grinding him deeper, amplifying the pleasure she hid behind her cries, lines she’d memorized, “Pontifex, mercy, the fire consumes me! Slower, I beg, I can’t bear it! ”
The priest pounded her, his thrusts relentless, and his fingers found her clit, pressing with a precision that nearly made her orgasm on the spot, but she held it in until she heard the magic words, “Veni nunc, virgo sacra.” Come now, sacred virgin.
Her back arched off the altar, and she screamed her pleasure while the vampires held her firm, and the priest’s cock drove her through wave after wave of pleasure.
And then came the next part, which she brought on by pleading, “Have pity, Pontifex, the gods weep for me! Mercy! I plead though to go not so deep!”
And with that, he pulled out, lined up at her ass, and then thrust in as violently as he’d taken her cunt.
Her screams were real this time because he was thicker than expected, and she hadn’t been stretched — but she’d agreed to this, so she fought the vampires holding her down and screamed the lines she’d memorized.
“Pontifex, please spare this humble servant! Go gently, I plead!”
And then later, “Please, Revered One, ease this torment! I can’t bear it!”
But the vampires at her side held her firm, and the one between her legs worked her clit until she orgasmed again, the ceremony’s final climax a perfect blend of staged pain and real ecstasy.
She heard the whore scene being acted out beside her while her vampire fucked her ass with gusto.
From this point forward, he was performing for the audience, showing he could last the entire time, fucking someone with fervor and endurance, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm without a bite, which wouldn’t happen on stage until the end.
Screams echoed and reverberated in the audience as the vampires began fucking their assigned flock member, and then focused back on the stage, where the gladiator guy was brutally taking his new virgin bride.
Later came the slave who’d burned breakfast, caned with an actual Roman walking cane.
Not like a normal BDSM cane at all, so the actress had to be a level-three.
Twelve fast strikes with the slave screaming, the ritual rhythm of punishment becoming the theater’s heartbeat — crack-crack-crack in rapid succession, red welts blooming instantly across her ass, her body jerking forward with each one, thighs quivering as she gripped the table’s edge.
By the sixth, her desperate cries cracked into sobs; by the ninth, her screams echoed off the rounded walls.
Immediately following the twelfth, the cane was handed off to someone while the vampire lined up, and he plunged into her ass the very second he had both hands available to grasp her hips, and he drove in with a violence everyone in the room witnessed.
Emmy had another orgasm during the end of the caning, her own body clenching in sympathy while the gazelle shifter screamed in true erotic pain.
Then came the other shifter’s lines, performed with perfection, her words coarser than Emmy’s had been while she promised to do better, and she apologized and begged for a mercy she never received.
“Master!” She wailed. “I’ll cook true next time!
Spare this wretched hide!” Her voice cracked, hips bucking against the thrust, the audience breathless as she groaned, “Forgive me, I beg of you to recognize my contrition! I accept whatever my master decrees for penance, please, let me prove my worth!” The raw plea turned sultry, her body arching in staged agony that morphed into a shuddering moan, further igniting the crowd’s lust as she cried, “Show mercy, Master! I have sinned! I was wrong! Fill me to redeem my shame, but please have mercy!”
The slave’s pleas collapsed into hoarse sobs, and Emmy considered begging her vampire to fuck her pussy a while and have mercy on her sore asshole, but then he put his hand on her clit again and brought her to yet another orgasm, and all thoughts left her mind.
And then there were just the sounds of fucking and torture in the round theater.
She could hear Felix screaming occasionally, but she recognized his erotic pain in them, so it just amped her own arousal even more.
There were sounds of caning and flogging, especially on the first row, where the level threes were, and she wished her vampire would turn her over to fuck her a while, so she could watch.
But mostly, she existed in a sexual haze, and when he realized she was thinking, he’d do something to bring on more orgasms.
Eventually, she heard the cymbals out in the audience, the sound denoting it was time for the actual feeding frenzy.
Emmy’s vampire of the night leaned over and sank his fangs into her left breast, just above the curve, an initial sharp sting that morphed into a flood of warmth as his pleasure cocktail injected, freezing her in place.
Her body locked, muscles rigid, every nerve alight with a delicious ache that held her captive on the altar. The vampire drank steadily, his lips sealed tight, sucking her lifeblood into himself while his cock was still buried in her fucked-raw asshole.
Just before he finished, he injected the orgasm cocktail, and her muscles obeyed her once again.
She writhed, hips bucking with pleasure, and a scream tore from her throat as ecstasy rocketed through her in waves.
Her back arched, her hands slapped at the table, her insides spasmed and jerked, pussy muscles clenching on nothing, asshole on fire as the vampire pistoned in and out, ramping himself up and up until he finally stilled, filling her full.