Chapter 2 #2
And Zander reveled in her pain and humiliation while he thoroughly appreciated Emerald’s artistry. The young dragon’s precision was exquisite — she gauged how to apply maximum pain and humiliation in increments. Speeding up, slowing down, adding little random verbal digs.
After five minutes of calculated torment, splitting the vampire’s ruined asshole wider than a saucer with every vicious thrust, Emerald pulled out, walked behind Vassal, and started all over again — his deeper roars a counterpoint to Serva’s wails.
Emerald’s strength, not yet fully returned, still commanded awe. Her thighs flexed, her corded arms grasped his hips, her abs rippled.
Vassal’s entire body jerked with every plunge into his ass, his frame quivering, his roars reduced to wet, broken gasps, his head lolling forward — only to snap up when she jammed the entire thing into his asshole, splitting him open, rending him.
Serva’s pussy followed, the troll dildo tearing through tender flesh, Emerald’s rhythm relentless, her taunts a litany of their crimes. “You thought to break us,” she hissed, her hips snapping forward, “but you’re the ones shattered and broken in front of a motherfucking audience.”
Zander’s chest tightened at her words. They wouldn’t have cared if she’d died, and for that, they would pay with their pain for motherfucking centuries. Pain would become their new truth.
But for now, their screams laid bare their arrogance, while Emerald’s control revealed her strength.
Zander’s mind lingered on her skill. How many had she hurt to hone her sadistic craft? How many lovers were in her history, masochists who craved pain and dominance?
She hadn’t treated all of them this way, that much he could be certain of — he’d been all through Felix’s memories, and knew she’d pushed him hard, but only up to his limits, taking care to give him the kind of pain he craved, and only a tiny bit more than he thought he wanted. Just enough to challenge him.
For Felix, her sadism was a gift of pleasureful pain, her voice a lifeline through the storm while she talked him through it.
Here, with those who’d poisoned her, she was an unforgiving beast, relishing their destruction, using friction as a fire that consumed. Her laughter was a blade, another way to hurt them as she drove the dildo into ruined holes.
She stepped so they could both see her, making sure they saw the blood-soaked troll dildo before she removed it. Zander walked the horse cock to her, kissed her forehead, and then stepped to the side of the stage again. This was her show. Her vengeance.
The horse cock would easily go through their stomachs and shred them, possibly along with other internal organs.
As long as she didn’t pierce their hearts, they’d live, and there were no sharp edges on the dildo, so that shouldn’t be possible.
These two were old enough, even if she dislodged their brainstem, they’d almost certainly recover.
So this next part would be all about pain and humiliation for them, but also, he had a feeling she would take pleasure in hurting their stomachs.
She’d puked and shit for days — and she’d destroyed their assholes and lower bowels to start, and now would destroy their upper bowels, stomachs, and esophagi.
Fitting.
Zander’s breath caught at her form: her shoulders squared, her breasts rising and falling with her breath, her beauty a quiet violence.
She worked the horse cock into Serva’s throat first, the vampire gagging, her body convulsing as Emerald angled it, shoving time and again until the entire thirty inches were buried, and tears flowed from Serva’s lidless eyes while her neck bulged obscenely.
Serva gagged and retched, the muffled noises a symphony of defeat.
Five minutes later, Vassal suffered the same, his roars choking into gurgles, Emerald’s hands steady, her voice a purr. “Swallow it, Vassal. Sucks to feel as if you need to puke, doesn’t it?”
Zander watched her thoughtfully. For those who learn to truly lead with this kind of power, it can be more than mere dominion.
Emerald transformed pain into justice, her sadism a forge that reshaped her subjects’ wills into putty she could bend, mold, and toy with — all while delighting in every exquisite moment.
He’d seen her from Felix’s point of view, her care a delicate dance, pushing boundaries with love, coaxing pleasure from resistance. Here, she was a storm, and he understood the difference: punishment for the deserving versus pleasure for the cherished.
And he realized he wanted to see her with Spencer, to watch her blend care with cruelty while working in tandem, the two sadists taking over the masochist as a team, bestowing pain with love and care.
When Emerald finally stepped back, her chest heaving, sweat glistening on her skin, Zander didn’t think she’d ever been more beautiful. Even paler than she should be, her frame thinner than acceptable, she glowed with power.
“Let’s have a round of applause for our esteemed dragon!” Zander said, stepping forward. “Her vengeance was a poem written with pain, was it not?” He motioned towards the pillories. “And the once mighty vampires? Kind of pathetic, yes?”
More clapping along with some laughter, and he stepped to Emerald and wrapped his arm around her from the side.
“The staff has much to do so we can be ready for tonight’s Feeding Frenzy, so please exit the theatre in an orderly fashion.” He considered the timing. “And while we’re at it, let’s start the frenzy thirty minutes later than usual. I will see you all back here shortly.”
He telepathed Spencer about the time change, and then his comms officer, with an order to send a text to flock, guests, and security, letting them know of the new start time.