Page 50 of The Sanguine Selection
We can at least pamper her a little.
Mikhail remains silent. The last pet we pampered took half our hearts and all our souls—not that there was much left of the blackened things.
There’s a gilded cage waiting for her in our chambers, what more could a slave want?
Pleasure.
My twin snorts.There are hundreds of willing women, waiting at our beck and call, why toy with this one?
Because she’s not willing. Her mind fights what her body already knows—that she belongs to us. And I want to prove it to the little firebird. The sooner we mark her, the better, and not just with our fangs. It’ll be another testament to the rebels as well as to her.
Fine, but we’re not fucking her with our cocks.
I groan because that’s exactly what I want to do, but I understand my brother’s reticence. There are other ways to gain pleasure and mark the Blood Slave without creating an even deeper bond. Where she’s concerned, we must tread lightly, lest we tie ourselves even further with the wench. It’s one thing to hold power over her, but never can it be the other way around.
The rest of the walk, Mikhail and I are silent, only the stuttered pants of our slave can be heard, and they fill me with the deepest pleasure. With every step, her trepidation grows. Although she instinctively trusts us, she knows we’re no knights in shining armor. In fact, Mikhail and I might be worse than the other monsters that lurk in the cover of darkness.
Her fear is an aphrodisiac that I want to drown in.
My brother waves his hand and the door to our living quarters opens. It’s a useless show of power meant to intimidate the ragdoll in our hands. Once inside, he reseals the door shut, warding it for extra measure. Only Jasper is welcome in this area, and only by our special summons. The Blood Slave doesn’t understand the honor we bestow upon her by allowing her into our private space.
I propel her forward, toward the towering, golden cage that sits in the middle of the room. The flames from the hearth glint off the gilded bars, adding sparkle to the otherwise dark room. This time, I flick my wrist, using my power to unlock and open the metal door. The Blood Slave balks under my hand when I gesture for her to step inside.
“P-please, don’t lock me up like an animal,” she cries.
Tsking at her distress, I lick a tear tracking down the side of her cheek. “My dear, you are mistaken. We would never lock an animal in such fine accommodations. You are our pet and deserve to be treated as such.”
“Petsareanimals,” she grits out in a show of backbone that makes me hard for some reason.
She is naturally submissive, but there’s a fire inside of her that even her recent hardships can’t extinguish. If anything, it just makes it burn brighter. I want to bask in the light of that flame, even though I know it’s dangerous. A Blood Slave, by definition, is meant to be of service and nothing more. Mikhail grunts as he hears my thoughts.
Fire burns, brother. It’s not wise to give our pet such a weapon. Her temper amuses you but you will have a battle on your hands when it grows out of control.
I chuckle silently, unlike my twin, I wouldn’t mind the little thing becoming bolder…it just gives me a reason to punish her. Mikhail snorts.
We don’t need a reason to punish her. We own her, body and soul. She is ours to do with as we please. Her punishment doesn’t need to be justifiable. It only needs to bringuspleasure.
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you when you spit your words,” I taunt the lovely creature before me.
“Pets. Are. Animals!”
“Mmm,” Mikhail hums, propped up against a far wall, watching our exchange. “Just remember we eat animals and won’t hesitate to gobble you up if you displease us.”
This silences the Blood Slave, who stares at her toes. From the ire rolling off her in waves, I know she isn’t cowed. Any other human would be on their knees, begging for mercy, but not her. She remains stubbornly quiet, and I want to hear her pleas again, so with a hard shove, I push the girl into the cage.
She gasps as she tumbles back, slamming into the door just as it closes and locks. “Wait! I’m sorry. Please, I’ll do anything!”
Mikhail and I share an amused glance.
“Anything?” I repeat.
“Anything!”
The foolish woman just gave you exactly what you wanted, didn’t she?
I laugh out loud at my twin’s assessment. While I do enjoy taking, there’s so much more pleasure when someone begrudgingly gives you something instead. I get to experience the satisfaction of both acquiring and receiving against the person’s deepest desire not to. It's sick, but I don’t care.
I make a show of licking a sharp, white fang. “Do you swear, pet—remember that my brother and I can compel you to do anything we wish, so if you disobey me and don’t give me what I desire, I willmakeyou do something even worse.”
