Page 136 of Vampire's Choice
It's a general broadcast, so you can worry less about the political machinations of vampires.
His explanation was surprising. She’d simply assigned it to irrepressible testosterone surges.
I will take the drink away from you.
Turning her face away from Garron, she stuck out her tongue and earned another lovely shiver from the look on Merc’s face.
Garron declined the drink politely. “Thank you. Dinner is ready, if you want to follow me.”
As Ruth slipped off the stool, drink in hand, and followed Garron toward the dining room, her mind went to what was to come. Especially as her gaze lingered on the tense set of the male’s broad shoulders.
Normally the only negative she had toward vampire social gatherings involved the effort to mask the direction of her interests during the sexual play. Other than that, she enjoyed the creativity and intense vibes as much as any other fanged attendee.
But thanks to her discussion with Merc, her mind once again went to Elisa, and how she and Mal handled those vampire social gatherings where Mal’s rank meant he would have to subject his servant to other vampires’ creative sexual games upon demand.
Whenever that topic had been broached, Elisa’s response seemed rote, but truthful. “I’m pleased to serve however my Master desires.” She’d add something to the effect of, “However is needed to have our life together.”
Two pieces of a puzzle that went together, but seemed like a forced fit. Her mother never spoke further on it, and if the issue was pressed, Mal would intervene in the conversation, changing the topic.
But Ruth and Adan weren’t blind. Before the required overlord and Region Master formal gatherings, Mal was perilously short-tempered, and Elisa would get really quiet or painfully perky.
The vampire-human servant relationship was never simple. She glanced at Merc. Case in point.
They weren’t eating in the formal dining room. Garron led them to the cliff-embedded level, which held more than guest quarters. There was a luxurious private dungeon playroom.
Candles were arranged on iron stands and wall sconces. They threw flickering natural light on the room’s main attractions. A dark red cushioned spanking bench, outfitted with silver and black restraints. A versatile St. Andrews cross. Plus a throne chair, forced orgasm tower, and a wall of toys and restraints.
A table for six had been set up, angled toward a grid of TV screens, covering the wall like the bank of windows in Kaela’s office. The screens showed the beach and cliffs from outside cameras.
There were equally pleasant views inside the room. Two household servants knelt at opposite ends of the dungeon, waiting. A male and a female, naked except for collars on their throats and cuffs on their wrists and ankles. The female straddled a saddle outfitted with a vibrating phallus, her cunt wet with arousal. The male was on all fours, a fucking machine slowly moving in and out of his backside. Both servants were doing their best to remain still, Ruth assumed as they’d been commanded to do.
Another machine was in front of the male, thrusting its phallus into his mouth at the same pace as the one behind him. The female had been gagged with a rubber cock, held in place with straps around her head. The two people were blindfolded and wore muffling headphones, so they could only feel the pleasure and not know what was coming next. Or hear what their audience was discussing.
Knowing what was expected, and not finding it an unpleasant task, Ruth wandered around each servant, enjoying the full view. She detected nothing but helpless pleasure and a devoted desire to serve their Mistress. Both household servants were second marked.
Merc stood behind one of the six chairs around the table, his attention fixed upon Ruth, upon the third mark link that thrummed with information coming from her. His incubus energy responded, twining around her like it had on the beach. While this time it left her the ability to move, its velvet hold cuffed her wrists, her waist, her legs, tendrils spiraling under her skirt. As those bonds tightened and stroked, she stopped, closing her eyes. The sensation circled her throat, caressing her jaw and cheeks. Her ears.
Merc. Don’t go overboard. I can’t resist you. I need to be a certain way here.
Then ask for that consideration from me. You do not command me, Ruth.
She had naturally rebellious instincts, but he wasn’t in a lenient mood. Her briefest hesitation to consider resistance had immediate repercussions. Those tendrils climbed two inches higher, brushing her already spasming cunt. He was more than capable of leaving her writhing on the floor, moaning.
Please.
The sensation eased, enough to maintain a reasonable outward decorum, but making her have to work for it. An intentional balance, she was sure. His expression of satisfaction confirmed it.
While it goaded her fight instincts, she couldn’t deny the flood of exhilaration. She was in an overlord’s dining room, being commanded. Mastered. With no one knowing, no one the wiser. Under Merc’s command, control and protection. He wasn’t asking her to be less than the fighter she was.
The thrill of it was far too dangerous.
She turned toward Kaela. The overlord stood at the head of the table, slim, manicured hands resting on the wooden arch of the chair back. Her golden eyes glinted. The table’s centerpiece was a spiral of iron holding a dozen candles. It rested in a bed of seashells and interesting coral pieces.
“You offer an optimal setting for dinner, my lady. Kaela.”
The woman inclined her head. “I’m delighted to hear that. And to know you are enjoying it.”
She gestured to them to take a seat, and Garron stepped forward to pull out his lady’s chair. As she sat down, Kaela overlapped his hand, her fingers caressing his larger ones. Her gaze rested on the two servants, drinking in their sensual distress. When she dropped her hand down to caress Garron’s hip, his upper thigh, his covered hers, giving it a hard squeeze.