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Chapter 18
Etta
I walked my new slave in and handed him off to Venom, who’d offered to get him set up in exchange for being the first to fuck his ass. I’d need to be present and touching him when he first accepted a dick in his ass and in his throat, but then it would be fine for me to leave.
I made my way to the area where new vampires are kept locked away, and checked in on Winston. He’d been made vampire twelve years before, and he was beginning to come around, but he still had some days where he wasn’t terribly lucid. He seemed to be mostly okay at the moment, so I told him, “A slayer is in the driveway, probably on one of his devices. Can you hack his phone without him knowing?”
“I can try. Depends on his setup.”
I considered my options and told him, “If you can get in, I’ll bring a cat from the security team down, and I’ll supervise so you can feed from the tap. If he knows someone tried to get in, I’ll flog the skin from your back in strips.”
The carrot and the stick. I’m a fan of both. While he’s learning control, I couldn’t do anything to reverse his progress, and that meant no putting him in a box unless it was a severe fuckup. He’s such a new vampire, draining him would mean I was taking from Marco, because he’d have to replenish Winston before the sun rose if we wanted to be certain our young vampire rose again the following night. So, my options were limited, but a good whipping is almost always a nice threat.
“How long do I have?”
I looked at my phone. “Thirty-ish minutes. I can give you a few more if you’re really close.”
“Should be enough. I’ll do some gentle poking and prodding and let you know if I dare try for more.”
Venom apparently goes all-in for drama, complete with skewering Largo’s penis with a couple of six-inch long thick-gauge needles before the fucking commenced. I hadn’t expected to be turned on by my new slave’s little deflowering ceremony, but Largo screamed and begged and cried like a three-year-old little girl when Venom pressed his thick cock into the eagle shifter’s apparently tight ass, complete with a few shrieks. Logic told me it wasn’t just having a dick up his ass, and then later down his throat, but the finality of saying goodbye to his life, his freedom, his autonomy. The life of a slave is a bitch.
I should know — I’ve lived it.
I survived my slavery, though. Mostly because I’d known I would eventually be strong enough to win my own freedom. Also, I knew Marco was working to figure out how to bring me to him. Largo would only be released from slavery through death, and I could taste his hopelessness on the air.
We had three shifter guards in the room, and I knew they’d report back to the others. Everything was as it should be.
Winston gave a polite telepathic knock, and I responded with, Yes?
I don’t dare try, Miss Etta. I’m sorry. He’s locked down tight. The slayers must have top-notch people securing their devices.
No surprise there, but I’d hoped our people were better than theirs. Apparently not, but I told Winston, Thanks for trying. Negative data is still a piece of data.
I was hoping to drink from a cat.
There will be other opportunities for you to earn that opportunity.
I closed the pathway and walked to the punishment room holding the bicep of my temporary playtoy, and installed the prisoner eagle on the back wall of the cell, his wrists and ankles locked into the permanent shackles on the wall, his body in an approximate shape of an X. He’d be let loose a few hours a day — enough time to kill and eat the large rats in his cell, if he chose — but always, he’d wear something magicked to keep him from changing.
The dungeon master secured a curved bar around the eagle shifter’s chest, locking him to the wall, and began whipping the malefactor’s front, including his chest, abdomen, thighs, and genitals. In twelve hours, he’d be turned so his back could be whipped, and then he’d be allowed an hour out of the cuffs so he could kill and eat a rat, if he chose. He probably wouldn’t be hungry enough to do so yet, but eventually, he would.
Or he’d die. Shapeshifters need more calories than a human does to live. The longest I was aware of a bird shifter lasting without food or water was twenty-three days. Force them to shift a few times and that number is drastically shortened, but we weren’t going to allow any changes at all for this particular prisoner.
When I was certain he was secured in the manner I’d ordered, and my other instructions were clear, I checked in with Marco to see if he needed anything else from me before I left, and then I made my way outside. It’d been thirty-five minutes, so my estimate had been a good one.
When I came out, Ryan was in the passenger seat, and I walked to the passenger side and opened the door.
“You said you’d driven around the neighborhood, and I thought it was a good chance for you to do so again.”
I shook my head, but he only smiled. “I want to help, Etta. Just around the neighborhood, as slow as you want to go.”
I wanted to glare at him, but he was right — the more practice I got, the easier it would be.
“Have you driven a vehicle that doesn’t use a key before?” He asked when I was in the driver’s seat. I nodded, put my foot on the brake, and pushed the button to start it.
It turns out, Ryan is a great teacher, and he gave me pointers without annoying me. Suggestions that actually helped. Twenty minutes later, I’d been around the entire subdivision twice, and I put the car in park and opened my door. “Thank you. That was beyond helpful.”
We swapped places, and I paid attention to how the car felt when he pressed the gas. He’d talked me through slow takeoffs versus mid-range ones, and said he’d take me somewhere I could step on the gas hard in the coming days, to get a feel for that as well. I wasn’t ready to go fast yet, but he assured me it was a big parking lot, and I’d have time to get slowed down before I could hit anything.
