Who: Ava & NPC slave from Ad Gustum When: After speaking with Domina Where: Ad Gustum's dungeon playroom Warnings: Contains torture. Well, basically all torture. Blood and screaming.
Ava had to admire the efficiency with which Ad Gustum was run. The furniture she'd requested had come within moments, a line of attendants bringing everything in and setting it up while she watched from the comfort of a well-padded stool. Her new pet knelt at her feet, his chains piled in her lap, and unless one looked very carefully, one would never notice that the only reason he stayed so still and well-behaved was due to the pressure of her hand atop his head, fingers toying gently with his hair. He was a beautiful specimen indeed: tall and strapping, fairly oozing wellness and healthy living. No mean feat for someone who'd spent significant time in the dungeon. She had to admire his fortitude; he'd have to be a blind idiot not to have figured out what was about to happen, and yet the only sign of distress was his elevated heartbeat.
"Such a good boy," Ava crooned softly, almost lovingly as she stripped him, then fastened a set of leather cuffs around his wrists, his struggles like those of a toddler's against her strength. "Hush now, it's time to play." She didn't want him screaming too loudly too soon. Screams were like music, but too much too soon was like nails on a chalkboard. She secured the cuffs together, leading him to the center of the room where an adjustable-height hook hung so thoughtfully from the center of the room. Dismissing the attendants, she secured his wrists to the hook, raising it until his toes just barely supported his weight. Locking the door behind her as the last employee left, Ava slowly sauntered towards her chosen prey.
"So lovely," she murmured as she circled behind him, fingertips trailing over his back and around his ribs until she faced him. She buried her face against his stomach and pulled in a deep breath, delighting in the way fear tainted his clean, healthy scent. She licked his abdomen, resisting the urge to bite down. That, she'd save for later. "So delicious," she breathed against his warm skin, relishing his shiver of fear. Forcing herself to step away, she went through her bag and pulled out a heavy flogger. "Shhh," she soothed as her pet opened his mouth. "I don't want to have to gag you, but I will if you speak out of turn. Relax, pet," she said, trailing the leather tails of the flogger over his stomach as she circled behind him. "I don't want to bleed you. Yet." Drawing back her arm, she let fly with the first blow.
Ava started lightly - she always did, enjoying the slow reddening of his skin, working her strokes evenly over his back to bring the blood to the surface, to get him accustomed to the sensation. He didn't make any noise, and Ava smiled in satisfaction as she watched him grit his teeth. Stubborn. She liked that. It made things so much more fun.
Over the next forty minutes, Ava played the flogger over her pet, positively delighting in the heavy thudding of the tails as they made contact with his solidly muscled torso, the way the muscles clenched and his skin twitched and shivered. It excited her, how he jerked with each hit, no longer able to silence his pained grunts. He responded so beautifully, giving her just the reaction she wanted without going too far, too soon. But then again, Ava had had plenty of practice over the years.
When his legs gave out and he hung limply from his bonds, Ava lowered him to the floor and unhooked him. "There, now," she soothed, vampire strength making it easy to hoist him up and onto the table. She had him strapped down securely while he was still dazed, a groan of what was either pain or relief escaping as his hot flesh made contact with the chilled metal. "I'd like to say it will be over soon," she remarked conversationally, digging again through her bag. She emerged with two thick iron spikes and a mallet, holding them up to his gaze, loving the way his eyes widened with fright. "Unfortunately," she said sweetly, with an innocent little smile as she set the point of one of the spikes against his heel, "I'm afraid it won't be." With one swift stroke, she'd hammered the spike into his heel, through skin and bone alike, and delighted in the sweetness of his cries.
If pain was music, then his screams were a symphony of agony with Ava conducting. She worked her toy over for hours. She broke the tiny bones in his hands and feet one by one with exquisite delicacy. When his eyes rolled back in his head like he was on the verge of passing out, she paused and gently rubbed him down with the oil blend she'd purchased, the heat of him releasing the scent pleasingly into the air. When she was certain he wasn't going to find oblivion too soon, she broke out her knives.
They were exceptionally sharp, her special knives, the point of their use not injury but rather pain. The slide of them into flesh was almost painless when done correctly... which was why the subsequent cutting was done very slowly. Ava carved into him as if she were an artist and he, her greatest masterpiece. The blood welled slowly from the cuts, and Ava was there at each one to catch the precious liquid on her tongue before it could be spilled to the floor. Hunger overtook her then; it wasn't the hunger for blood that kept her alive, but a deeper hunger, almost physical, for his fear and pain. She bathed in it, luxuriated in it, struck with her fangs again and again into his wrist, his throat, the meaty part of his chest, and drank deeply from each in a frenzy of sensation and sharp pleasure.
He wasn't dead when she was finished, coming slowly back to herself as she lapped a last little trickle of blood from the soft skin of his forearm. In fact, he hadn't even lost consciousness for more than a few moments at a time when she got a little overzealous with the knives, and that made her feel rather kindly towards him. "That's my lovely boy," she murmured, resting a moment on a seat near his head, where she was gently stroking her bloodied hand through his hair. She laid a tender kiss on his forehead, smiling indulgently at his near-mindless whimper and instinctive flinch, and herself gave a great, satisfied, full-body shiver. But as charming a toy as he was, she wasn't inclined to hang around all night. He'd served his purpose, and if he survived, she'd return to play another day.
She cut herself across the palm, forcing his mouth open to catch the falling blood. Not much - just enough to ensure he wouldn't die and to begin the healing process. She had no doubt Ad Gustum had the facilities and personnel to ensure he'd recover. Mostly. Recovering her iron spikes, she cleaned her toys with his shirt and returned them to her bag. Letting herself out of the room, she signaled an attendant. "Tend him," she said. "He should live. And advise your mistress that I was greatly pleased with her offering tonight. I should like him kept for my exclusive use for as long as he continues to survive our playtime."
Orders given, she allowed herself to be escorted to the front door, where she took wing for home.