The vampire fastened the collar firmly, slipping the metal catch into place. It was a wonderful contrast; the heavy leather against the softness of the pale skin.
Carrick's eyes lifted as his slave entered the room. He'd instructed Hermes to give him some privacy for the first few minutes of his time with Samandriel.
"You might call him an angel, but I prefer to think of him as a Muse."
He looked down at the kneeling boy, unable to keep a purr of pride from his voice.
"No matter how much he hates me now, when he's under the whip later tonight he'll hate me even more."
Carrick beckoned Hermes closer. "What do you think? Beautiful, isn't he? He was made for this - to kneel."
Carrick could think of few more pleasurable ways to begin Samandriel's time in his service than to watch him pleasured by his most prized slave. Having him fondled and kissed by another boy would ease him into the hours of darkness without having his obvious rage and hate shutting down his body entirely. Half the pleasure of domination was, after all, watching a reluctant slave submit to pleasure despite himself.
He glanced at Hermes. "Bring him to the bed."
Carrick moved over to slide onto the king sized bed himself, still fully clothed.