Suddenly, the French doors boomed open, bouncing off each adjacent wall. Dust of plaster from the ceiling drifted down slowly.
"Must you make such an entrance, 1?" she coolly asked, setting her book aside.
"I have a name." he smoothly replied. "Or have you forgotten?"
"I forget nothing, Adrian." she turned and looked at him, her crimson velvet robe wrapped loosely around her. "I choose to call you 1. It is my right. I do own you."
He stood before her, a man once more. Where black fur once was, was now intricate tattoos and piercings. He was tall, but heavily muscled. Black hair, so black it looked perpetually wet, crowned him. His chest was covered in a light pelt which ran down to between his legs and framed the thick, heavy, hard cock waiting there. Gold rings were set in his wide-spaced nipples. His left ear held a thick, plain gold ring, but his cock and balls gleamed the most--a Prince Albert was there, as well as six smaller rings placed in a row up the bottom of his shaft. There were two rings placed high on his ball sac--they looked as if it had been a traumatic experience getting those in. Black, tribal tattoos wound around his arms and thighs. They danced and mingled on his back, so intertwined, one became dizzy just trying to look at them. His cock was so hard, it was purple; precum dripped onto the floor.
She smiled cruelly at him. "Do be so kind as to clean that up. It will stain the rug."
With seeminly one move, he was across the room, tearing the robe off of her. She allowed it, and stood only in her red corset and lace pantalets. As he was pulling at her wrists, they were interrupted by 2.
"My Lady..."2 stuttered, standing in the open doorway. He was smaller than 1, but more lithe...and fair. As fair as fresh snow. His blond hair spilled down his shoulders, and he had more hair on his body than 1. And much more around his long, thin cock. Where she had tattooed 1, and held him down as he screamed when she pierced him, she had branded 2. Scars ran all over 2's body--thin, whitish lines whirling and twisting from his neck down. It had been a great deal of fun for her to strap him to the long table downstairs, then climb naked on top of him and sit on his chest. She had shown him her hands, and twirled the simple silver ring around and around, laughing as he sweated, his eyes getting larger and larger, and the pupils dilating in fear. She never said a word, but began running the silver ring down his skin; where the ring passed, the skin smoked and blistered. Oh, yes, she had had an exceptionally good time as he screamed, leading to intense orgasms every time. But the poor boy always screamed himself hoarse, finally losing consciousness. When that happened, she would climb down and let 1 get him up. It was no fun if he wasn't screaming. The patterns were complete now; it had taken several sessions to cover his entire body.
2 knelt down, hiding his twitching, dripping cock, and 1 snarled at him, "Get up, you stupid fuck!" 1 turned his attention back to her, his grey eyes sweeping over her form. When he attempted to pull her to him, she slipped through his grasp, laughing lightly. He stumbled, surprised by her move. Quickly, he righted himself, and howled at her, "Damn it, you know we have the right to you at the Dark of the Moon! It's the only fucking thing you allow us! Why the game...my lady?" he added sarcastically.
She stood in front of one of the windows for a moment, then turned to him. Faster than he could follow, she was behind him, her hands full of his black hair, pulling cruelly. Putting her face close to his, her fangs full and noticeable, she whispered, "Tonight you have to earn it."
2 began whining, low in the back of his throat. He knew what "earning" meant. Torn, that's what he was, torn between his Mistress and his Brother...who was right?
She continued to pull 1's hair, harder, softer, until she was merely running her nails through the silky strands. Still whispering in his ear, she explained, "You pups are going to perform for me tonight." 1's cock twitched, and he hated it, hated it with everything he had. She slid around in front of him and took one of his hands. Slowly, she ran her tongue over his fingers, and scraped the back of his hand with her fangs lightly. "No excuses,...Adrian."
2 jerked up, amazed she had used his Brother's real name. How many years had it been since she had called them anything but "1" and "2"? He couldn't even remember. He crawled over to her, and began kissing her feet over and over and over.
"Lovely, Elliot." Her hands ran through his hair softly. Then grabbing a handful of it, she yanked 2 to his feet. "Now, my two darling wolves, shall we retire to a more...appropriate...room?" Grasping each of their ball sacs, she led them out of the library, down the hallway, and up a long, wide flight of stairs.
