As we entered the house from the short corridor leading from my workshop, Damon, his gaze seeming to probe my thoughts, said, "Let's start from the top floor and see what we can find."
I remained silent and took the elevator; this was a five-story house, and I wasn't inclined to climb the stairs. Damon and Mariella followed, making no comment about the dilapidated elevator, a stark contrast to the usually pristine lifts in our homes.
Damon's disapproving frown was evident as I walked in barefoot, leaving grains of sand in my wake. He and Mariella, who also removed their sandals, were far more fastidious. The polished hardwood floor, though showing its age and in need of sanding and paint, was adequate.
On the top floor was my bedroom, and I knew Damon was heading there, curious to see how much I'd made it my own—and perhaps whether he could take it over. I wasn't sure if he was in the mood for possessing me.
As we stepped from the elevator into the wood-paneled hallway, lined with doors and large windows, Mariella remarked, "Oh my, this has potential. A little sprucing up, and it could be perfect, but then again, I like this rundown look, too. It gives it character."
Damon grunted noncommittally, opening several rooms, including a spare guest bedroom, which remained untouched—bland, beige, gray, and worn.
I said casually, "I haven't decorated much inside because it's more fun outside, but I have time, although my survey takes precedence, so finishing the rooms might not happen. If you plan to return after the holidays, they'll have to make do."
Damon grunted and said, "I'm not sure about the survey, but we already took on that lapidary project, so it might be unfair to limit your activities too much. But then again, all we do is have sex or cook—not much else. It's wrong for me to expect you to decorate the house while we're having a sex holiday."
It was surprisingly mature of him to acknowledge this, giving me pause, but it wouldn't stop my little plan.
I said, "Fine, let me show you my collection room; it's also on this top floor, and I have some piercing jewelry there. Mariella, would you like to try a navel piercing?"
She nodded eagerly. The trap was set. I led them to the north side of the house, to a well-lit, spacious room with display cases and my handwritten notes for each mineral or stone.
Damon's first comment was, "Baby, I'm sure the information is correct, but please, next time, let someone else label these. Your handwriting is as awful as usual."
This was an inside joke; his handwriting was perfect, and mine... well, I used to say, "I'm a doctor, deal with it," but I could see him envisioning this room differently—with perfect, elegant labels, perhaps different display cases—things I struggle with.
For Mariella, it would have been natural to collaborate with Damon, letting him take the lead, but not for me. This was mine—my stones, my labels, my display cases.
I walked to a display case, took out a navel piercing set and the machine, with sterile wipes ready. Damon took them from my hands, inspected them, and carefully wiped them down.
It was time to close the deal. I picked a piercing with a large piece of green jade and gave it to Damon. "I think this is perfect for her, judging by her eyes."
Damon grunted, inspected the jewelry, loaded it, then went to Mariella and said, "Ready, darling? Let's see what this piece of jade looks like. I haven't yet decided what I'll put in your clit."
Mariella choked, stammered, and couldn't speak. Damon deftly placed the piercer and inserted the jewelry.
Meanwhile, I had wandered to another display case showcasing men's signet rings. I selected a sizable red jasper ring engraved with "D.S." for Damon.
"Here's one of my little projects," I said, handing it to him. "Red jasper is fun to work with—try it on."
He accepted the ring, seemingly oblivious to Mariella's expression, and despite finding flaws (or perhaps pretending to), he slipped it onto his middle finger. Casting a spell, he made it appear like a tattoo.
"Thanks, babe," he said. "This is perfect. I haven't worked extensively with all these minerals, so this will be new to me, too."
He then moved to examine my collection, while Mariella, displaying unexpected friendliness, pressed herself against him. I maintained a neutral expression; my plan was unfolding nicely.
According to Glenda's travel diary, which I'd recently read, red jasper and green jade are strong vibrators, boosting—and often dominating—energies. Since Damon is a lust wizard and Mariella a lust queen, I'd essentially given them lust boosters. Mariella's behavior confirmed their effectiveness.
While many crystals and minerals have vibratory properties, these two stones are specifically associated with passion, relationships, and lust. It would be some time before the couple returned to their usual state, as the stones' influence would permanently alter their lust frequency.
Damon remained relaxed and content as Mariella continued rubbing against him, her frequency shifting. This was proving hilariously effective. I moved to my quartz collection—I have specimens of numerous variations—and Damon followed. His reaction, however, was unexpectedly intense.
He suddenly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a passionate kiss that left me breathless and speechless. He held me close, murmuring, "Oh, baby, you know what? I want to use these too—polish, tumble, and make jewelry. There are so many new materials for me and others."
I said, "Well, quartz is very useful, and see, in this specimen—"
I opened the case with my special key, prompting him to snatch it. I selected a grey one with rutiles, but he plucked it from my fingers, turning it so the light played upon it.
"Oh yeah," he said, "look at this—it can be chopped and polished. Just think, baby, my love, at all the parties we'll attend, you wearing my new jewelry. I'll be the one dressing you, in clothes and jewelry, as a husband and king should."
Mariella spoke to Damon through their bond.
"What the fuck did she do to us? I can barely hold it together. I want to ravish you right here, and now you're all over her. I sense your state mirroring mine."
Damon replied, "My dear wife, we need to see this little devil's bedroom. I learned from her, without arousing suspicion, that she keeps a book there. We'll go, and you'll find it as we pass."
Mariella nodded; she was so incredibly horny she could barely contain herself. She somehow knew that damn cool-looking piercing was the reason, and now she felt it was too late. She wanted to know what this was all about and vowed to get back to Mimi somehow.
As Damon finally allowed me to walk, his seductive voice—which excited certain parts of my anatomy, making my pussy practically drool—said, "Baby, come on, show me your bedroom. I want to fantasize about all the places we'll sanctify one day when we come back here.Let me have some ideas during the rest of our holiday, and I've some ideas to share."
I nodded and said, "Well, it's the main bedroom, but it's mine, and it's not fancy."
We walked out, and I led him to the double doors on the opposite side of the house. He opened them and stepped inside.
Entering what felt like a cove of strawberries, Damon's lust burned fiercely. Ironically, Mimi had never looked more fuckable, and it was almost too much. All he wanted was to take her—roughly, hard, fast, and for a long time—Mariella was no longer so present in his mind.
Mimi's strawberry scent enveloped him like a warm touch of love, making him want to purr. Yet he focused, pushing the sensation deeper to maintain some functionality. His mind raced with fantasies, raunchy ones he couldn't comprehend.
Mariella entered the room and immediately spotted it. Damon, meanwhile, was again preoccupied with Mimi's clothes—this time, he was smelling and rubbing them against himself. Mariella realized she'd never been bothered by the scent of Mimi on Damon, not even when jealous; it had always felt…right. She mentally noted to discuss this with him later.
Approaching the book, she picked it up and began reading from where it lay open. It appeared to be a diary—the diary of a witch. A quick reader, Mariella was soon engrossed, realizing this witch was extraordinary. Mimi had clearly read most of it—no wonder she'd pulled off her trick.
"She read the diary of a traveling witch specializing in crystals, healing, and using them in various ways—bringing couples together, igniting lust in shifters, etc." Mariella told Damon. "It seems connected to a certain frequency she could perceive. She must have been an energy creature, able to sense and manipulate different energies with crystals. Somehow, this little creature knows these tricks. I have no idea how she found the crystals or stones amplifying our lust, but I'm about to come and rape you."
Damon murmured, "Well, Missy is about to learn again what happens when she gets my lust going. I'm about to take her roughly."
As Mariella continued reading, an idea struck her.
"Do it," she said, "as brutally, dominantly, and passionately as you can. We need to get her pure lust going. She must have no idea what you'll do; it has to be fast and precise, to catch her off guard. I'll observe her vibrations with my energy gaze. Then, we take some time in the collection room. I have a hunch about the stone. There weren't many specimens, even though it's a beautiful stone, and those that were encased in resin or glass. She must have a hunch, too. But we act, then we tell Number Two. It won't be hard for him to make her some jewelry; we still have stones in our stone rooms, including what I think is hers. And Damon, it will be incredibly lustful when those two hit it off. The Romanian sex nest might need a deep clean, but Missy will learn her lesson. And please, ask her where the *hell* she got this book."
Standing near the window, I watched Damon clear my half-used clothes. This time, however, he didn't just smell them; he rubbed them all over himself, wanting my scent on his skin. This small consequence of my little lesson amplified the alpha male's need for his mate—me.
Unfortunately, I'm not important or attractive enough to compete with the lust queen; she'll take Damon, keeping him occupied while I continue my survey. My attention wavered, and suddenly Damon was beside me, his grip rough as he encircled my neck and yanked me toward a table.
Without a word, he pushed me face-first onto the table, pressing my upper body down. Before I could react, his hand connected sharply with my ass cheek. He ripped off my clothes, pinning me down and spanking me. He spread my legs and slammed his palm against my other cheek, the sting immediate and burning.
His voice, rough and dangerous, demanded, "Baby, where the fuck did you get that book?"
Another slap followed before I could answer, this time on the opposite cheek, leaving both burning.
In a low voice, he commanded, "Count them out. If you fail, I start again until you get it right."
My voice pained as he hit me again. "One," I gasped, then, "Two," as the blows continued.
By the time he reached twenty-five, my asscheeks were on fire, my voice raw, and I was soaking wet, being spanked, an unfamiliar sensation that oddly ignited me.
He demanded, "Tell me about the book, or else," and another slap landed.,
II gasped, "Flea witches gave them to me. As they secured the island, they found books, removed the objectionable ones, and according to them, these shouldn't go into the magic house because some might misuse the knowledge. It's up to me to decide what to do with them."
He slapped my ass again.
I explained, "I've sorted books before; I add them to our inventory, not the magic house, but the system. The witches will get an update, but I do what I can. I don't know what in certain books isn't suitable for the magic house, but I'm not a witch."
Mariella said, her voice low and heated, "You're right, not everything belongs in the magic house, but to us. I've informed Dresden, and he'll direct the flea witches to give him the books, or Constantine, as they can better sort what goes only to our eyes and what goes into the normal collection. You don't need to do something you have no idea about."
Before I could respond, Damon suddenly thrust his hard, hot cock right into my poor pussy. I had no idea he had undressed at some point. He began to rail into me, gripping my neck and slapping my ass cheeks.
Multiple sensations bombarded my body, and my lust surged like a tidal wave. I couldn't resist; my pussy clenched, spasming as a huge orgasm crashed over me. Salvatore, however, showed no mercy. He continued to rail into me, pounding me like a rutting beast, slapping my ass and delivering long, hard strokes, making it even sorer.
Yet, the pain blended so well with the pleasure that I couldn't distinguish them; they were simply intensely pleasurable sensations. His rough, cruel hands reached under me, twisting and manipulating my nipples, and the pain brought tears to my eyes. But lust quickly dried them as the pain transformed into another layer of pleasure.
Mariella was dripping, wanting Damon to spank her as well. Mimi's bright red jiggling ass was just damn hot to look. However, she knew he wouldn't; not because she couldn't take it, but because spanking had become something between him and Mimi, and he was keeping it that way. While other Salvatores might spank her, it wouldn't be the same—and that was incredibly exciting.
As Damon took Mimi, using her until she was a trembling mess, unable to speak or act, only to shudder through multiple explosive orgasms, Mariella watched. Mimi's red, blossoming ass received each resounding slap of Damon's hard hand, the force evident in her pained grunts and the jiggling of her firm flesh.
Mariella had experienced frequent spankings, but Damon wasn't stopping; he wanted to thoroughly prepare her before letting "number two" have a turn. A part of Mariella wondered if they should abandon the plan involving "number two," but then again, he knew about their little arrangement.
Time became irrelevant; this intense spanking session consumed my life. We'd had rough sex before, but this spanking elevated him—and me—to a new level of lustful frenzy. Finally stopping, he filled me with a massive flood of his cream of lust. I had not counted how many times, countless times, it seemed. Pulling out, he left me leaning against the table, my legs too weak to support me.
He commanded, "No shower, no washing of any kind—not even wet wipes—for 72 hours, Mimi. You will carry my scent for that long. I'll know if you disobey, and I will be most upset. Next time, little bitch, it'll be 50, so better behave."
Then they left me there, naked, gasping, my ass stinging, my pussy sore but fully satisfied, my breasts aching and my nipples still erect. No shower? Fine. I could do that.
We'll see where this leads and what happens when we reunite as a pack. I was still recovering, barely recalling number two's intense gaze at the end of our trip. His almost-promise to return.
It took an hour to regain my strength, only to discover most of my clothes were gone, leaving only a few thin wrap-around dresses, redolent with the scents of Damon, sex, and lust.
I had no choice but to put one on, but I wasn't sure if I'd conduct the survey—not yet, anyway. I was too exhausted. It was time for another session of sitting in the sun, recovering, and learning my lesson: the consequences of messing with lustful creatures who feel a possessive need for you.