Chapter 10
Emmy stood naked in the bedroom she was supposed to be sharing with her friends, looking at the corset. The eggplant gown lay across the bed like a work of art, all brocade and silk with lavender accents that caught the light.
“We’ll do the corset later,” Rhea said. “Hair and makeup, first.”
The two women did their own faces as well as Toby and Felix’s — pale powder, rouge cheeks, lipstick, and beauty marks.
Then came the wigs. Emmy’s was tall and elaborate, white powder making it look like spun sugar.
And they talked while they worked.
“So,” Rhea said while she applied rouge to Toby’s cheeks. “What’s the plan for tonight? You’re not back on rotation, right?”
Emmy was working on Felix, and she paused a half-second. “No. Zander wants … he wants the three of us to be a unit. Together.”
Felix held his face still but aimed his gaze up at her. “Like, publicly?”
“Very publicly. Spence will be on a leash and shirtless. A rhinestone collar and cuffs, with Zander and me passing the leash back and forth throughout the night.”
“Holy shit,” Rhea breathed. “That’s … that’s a statement.”
“Yeah, that’s the point.” Emmy’s hands were steady. Somehow. “Zander wants everyone to know. No ambiguity. Spence belongs to both of us, and we belong to each other.”
“How does Spence feel about that?” Toby asked, practical as always.
Emmy smiled, warmth flooding her chest. “He’s beyond excited. He wants to be displayed as ours. Not all the time, but for the theatrics of the ball, he’s like a kid on Christmas morning about it.”
Felix met her gaze and smiled. “You’re happy. Really happy. I can see it.”
“I am. Do your lips like this.” Emmy showed him, he copied her, and she talked while she put his lipstick on. “I’m a little terrified, but happy.”
“Terrified of what?” Rhea asked.
“Of screwing it up. Of—” Emmy took a breath. “Of it not lasting.”
“It’ll last,” Felix said with utter certainty. “I’ve seen the way they look at you. The way you look at them. That’s not temporary.”
The men put their clothes on while Rhea and Emmy helped each other with corsets, and then stepped into their gowns.
“I’ve been so excited about tonight,” Emmy said. “I was terrified it would happen while I was still sick.”
“You’re still not really filling out your gown, but at least it didn’t have to be taken up.”
“Right, but you also didn’t tighten the corset as much as the seamstress did when she fitted me, before we left. I can actually breathe, tonight.”
Rhea shrugged. “It works, and you’re gorgeous.”
“So are you. Do I really need all these rings?”
“This is Versailles,” Rhea said. “Everything has to be excessive or it isn’t authentic.”
“Is that why the vest has seventeen dozen buttons?” Felix asked.
“Yes,” Toby answered. “You’ll note the breeches come off easily, though.”
“Right,” Felix said. “How long will we actually be in them?”
“Oh, you’ll be out of yours in the first ten minutes,” Rhea said. “Level threes are in high demand. I figure I’ll be bent over and fucked soon thereafter, but my dress should remain on until near the end.”
Emmy turned her head, getting used to the height and weight of the wig. “How did humans manage with five pounds of hair on their head?”
“Carefully,” Rhea said with a laugh. “And lots of neck strength.”
Between the four of them, they managed to get dressed in a comedy of helping with buttons, adjusting panniers, and figuring out how shoes buckled. Emmy’s gown settled over the structure beneath it, transforming her into something from a painting.
A knock at the door interrupted, and Emmy’s heart kicked. She knew who it was before Rhea called, “Come in.”
Zander entered first, and Emmy’s breath caught.
He looked like royalty. Like he’d stepped out of a portrait of Louis XIV himself.
The midnight blue justaucorps was embroidered with gold thread in elaborate patterns, the vest beneath it a riot of brocade.
His wig was massive, perfectly curled, and his face was powdered to pale perfection.
A sash crossed his chest, and a decorative sword hung at his hip.
He was magnificent.
And behind him, following at the end of the leash, Spence made Emmy’s mouth go dry.
The tight eggplant breeches left absolutely nothing to imagination — his cock was already hard, the outline obscene and perfect.
His bare torso gleamed with oil that made his muscles stand out in sharp relief.
The leather cuffs at wrists and ankles were works of art, black leather studded with rhinestones and massive stainless steel hardware.
The collar around his throat was even more elaborate, wide and gleaming, with a heavy ring at the front.
His nipples were rouged deep red and adorned with jeweled clamps connected by a delicate chain. His face was painted — rouge on lips and cheeks, kohl around his eyes, a beauty mark high on one cheekbone. The long curly wig framed his face in cascading waves.
He looked like sin and submission wrapped in period finery.
In Zander’s hand was a heavy stainless steel chain leash with a black velvet handle.
“Emerald,” Zander said, his voice warm with approval as he took in her appearance. “You look stunning.”
“So do you. Both of you.” Emmy couldn’t stop staring at Spence, at the way he stood with perfect posture despite being nearly naked, his erection proud and unapologetic.
Zander moved to her, reaching into his pocket. “But something’s missing.”
He produced a jeweled hair ornament, the delicate platinum worked into an intricate design, set with amethysts and diamonds that caught the light like captured stars. Not a crown, but close.
“The Master’s consort needs a sign of status.”
Zander positioned it carefully in her elaborate wig, settling it just off-center where it would catch the light. His fingers lingered at her temple for just a moment, cool and possessive.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “Now you look like what you are.”
“Which is?”
“Mine.” He smiled, slow and predatory. “And his.” He gestured to Spence. “Shall we?”
Zander handed her Spence’s leash, and the offer seemed to echo in the suddenly quiet room. Spence’s eyes darkened, his scent flooding with arousal and submission so thick Emmy could taste it.
She accepted the leash and asked Spence, “What are your orders?”
“Stand to the left of the person holding my leash, Ma’am. Match pace as is appropriate.”
The six gathered their fancy masks and made their way up the staircase to Le Bacchanal Ballroom Magnifique, which had been transformed beyond recognition.
The moment they stepped through the entrance, Emmy understood why this was called a carnivale.
The already gorgeous ballroom had become Versailles.
Enormous tapestries hung along the curved walls, depicting hunting scenes and pastoral landscapes in rich jewel tones.
Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Scattered throughout, elevated platforms were draped in silk, creating intimate seating areas where vampires and their favorites reclined like Renaissance paintings come to life.
But it was the entertainment that truly transformed the space.
In one corner, musicians played period instruments, filling the air with baroque music that was both elegant and slightly eerie. Near the center, a small raised stage held performers in commedia dell’arte masks acting out bawdy pantomimes that had clusters of vampires laughing.
Servers moved through the crowd in period livery, some distributing glasses of wine, others carrying trays with delicacies arranged like art. Some wore elaborate masks, others had faces painted in the style of the court.
And everywhere, people were performing.
Not just the official entertainers, but the guests themselves. Vampires in elaborate costumes posed and postured, engaged in theatrical conversation and exaggerated gestures. It wasn’t just a ball, it was theater, everyone an actor playing the role of decadent nobility.
Zander touched Spence’s shoulder and told him, “You won’t like what happens if your erection flags. Rock hard all night, boy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Emmy handed the leash to Zander, who held it casually. Spence walked a half-step behind and to the left, his posture perfect, his erection clearly evident beneath the tight fabric.
Heads turned.
Conversations paused mid-sentence.
The three of them — Zander in royal splendor, Emmy in consort purple with a jeweled ornament in her hair, and Spence nearly naked and leashed — were impossible to ignore.
“Master Zander,” a vampire in an elaborate powdered wig called out, raising a glass. “What a magnificent display.”
“Thank you, Henri.” Zander gave him a polite nod and moved them deeper into the crowd.
They passed a platform where a flock member kneeled before a vampire, slowly blowing him while the vampire talked to others. It reminded Emmy this event was about excess, about displaying power and beauty and desire without shame.
Felix and Rhea peeled off toward a group of flock members, and Toby headed for the musicians, likely wanting to examine the period instruments up close.
That left Emmy, Zander, and Spence.
Zander led them to a platform near the far side, elevated slightly above the others and draped in midnight blue silk. He settled onto the cushioned bench, pulling Emmy down beside him. Spence knelt gracefully at their feet on a tapestry cushion, the leash pooling on the silk like a silver snake.
From this vantage point, they could see everything.
A juggler performed near the musicians, maneuvering five crystal balls in impossible patterns.
On another platform, two vampires engaged in an elaborate verbal sparring match that was clearly scripted, their insults so flowery and excessive that nearby guests laughed and applauded particularly cutting lines.
Closer to the stage, someone had set up an easel where an artist sketched quick portraits of guests in charcoal, capturing the absurdity of the elaborate costumes with skilled strokes.
“This is incredible,” Emmy told Zander, watching a dance troupe in the center of the floor, their movements perfectly synchronized.
“Versailles was about spectacle,” Zander said, accepting two glasses of wine from a passing servant and handing one to Emmy.
He sipped his own and continued. “About showing wealth and power through excess. Everyone performing for everyone else.” He took a sip.
“We’ve recreated it rather well, I believe. ”
A vampire approached their platform, her gown so elaborate it must’ve weighed even more than Emmy’s. “May I admire your pet?”
Zander’s hand tightened fractionally. “You may look. Don’t touch.”
The vampire’s eyes raked over Spence with undisguised hunger. “Beautiful. Will he be loaned out or shared, later?”
“No.” Emmy’s voice came out before she’d consciously decided to speak. “Not tonight.”
The vampire’s gaze shifted to Emmy, reassessing. She took in the jeweled hair ornament, the way Emmy sat beside Zander rather than at his feet.
“I see,” she said slowly. “Congratulations on your … acquisition.” She inclined her head to Zander and melted back into the crowd.
Zander’s hand found Emmy’s knee, squeezing once. “I enjoy sharing him with friends, but I agree that tonight he’s exclusively ours. Feel free to speak up like that as much as you wish. I find I quite enjoy it.”
Emmy looked down at Spence, who gazed up at her with such open adoration it made her chest tight. His cock hadn’t flagged at all. If anything, the attention had made him harder.
“Good boy,” she told him with a smile, and watched his eyes flutter closed with pleasure at the praise.
More vampires circulated past, some stopping to admire, others simply noting the new arrangement with calculating looks.
The musicians transitioned to a new piece, something with a driving rhythm that made the dancers on the floor move faster. On the stage, the actors began a new pantomime, this one involving exaggerated seduction and pratfalls that had the audience roaring with laughter.
She noted various flock members leaned over tables, skirts up and breeches down, a vampire’s cock plowing them.
Felix was naked from the waist down, leaned over and being caned.
A servant approached with a tray of tiny savory pastries, candied fruits, and chocolates dusted with gold leaf. Zander selected a chocolate and held it to Emmy’s lips. She took it, the sweet richness exploding on her tongue.
Then he chose a candied fruit and offered it to Spence, who opened his mouth obediently. Zander’s fingers lingered at his lips a moment, possessive and tender at once.
They sat like that, watching the carnivale unfold around them, a unit of three that the whole room couldn’t help but notice, up on the raised platform.
And Emmy felt powerful in a way she never had before. Not just dominant, but claimed. Choosing and chosen. Part of something bigger than herself.