Hey guys! So Birthday weekend/week is over, and I should be able to write more regularly now :)
Sorry about the wait, but the reviews have been so inspiring!
I hope you guys like this chapter as well :)
August, 1567
Damon had been right.
Elena had never seen an event like the one before her now.
As Sage took her around, introducing her to one Shadowcaster after another, she began to notice other things.
Women in gold masks, slitting their wrists, allowing their blood to be poured into goblets, which were consumed by passers.
The clothes were so thin, so scarce, because the slave witches and servants were bent over at random, a Shadowcasters cock shoved inside them.
In other places, a male would be sitting on one of the fine sofas, a female, be it slave or Shadowcaster, riding him.
Sweat and blood shone from all directions, reflecting in the torchlight.
The floors were red.
The bareness of her feet turning the color as the blood clinged to them.
The voices of the Shadowcasters echoed, accompanied with the occasional cry of pleasure, and Elena's breathing hitched, as she tried to take it all in.
She left Sage's side to wander on her own a bit.
It was so much to absorb.
She had lost sight of Damon a while ago, but she wasn't worried.
These people acted more like a family than a threat, with how close and intimate they all seemed.
Idly, she wondered at the servants.
The obedient, silent statues, who only moved to please.
She glided through some of the others, until she reached the walls.
A particular feeling seemed to guide her eyes past the two males, and a blonde, down further.
There was a female there, young, with sun darkened skin, and caramel colored hair.
She too wore a gold mask, but her green eyes shone in the fire light.
Elena could feel the power pulsing from her.
She was a witch, a strong one, though not the strongest Elena had felt.
The red fabric of a slave hung from her shoulders, covering pieces of her skin, but leaving one breast, and slits of her thighs and stomach exposed.
Elena crooked her head, "What is your name?"
The girl moved her eyes to look at Elena.
"It is whatever you wish, my lady," the girl replied.
Elena smirked.
She was obviously well trained. Expensive.
Her hand reached out, to touch the girl's face.
Her skin was smooth, as Elena trailed her finger down, to the girls neck.
A trail of blood was marked there, but no wound.
Elena blinked, then touched the blood at her own neck.
Damon's mark.
"I see Salvatore isn't going to share anything tonight," a voice made her jump.
She glanced over to see a rather handsome man.
"Apologies?"
The man smirked, "I have not yet had the pleasure of your company, Princess. I am Lorenzo, a friend of Damon's."
"Eleniana," she offered her hand.
He kissed her knuckles in custom, but chuckled, "Yes, I do believe that we all know who you are, Elena. As if Damon's most prized possession would go unrecognized."
She turned back to the girl as she spoke, "I am not a possession."
Another short laugh, "Tell that to your lover then."
She felt his hand on her hair then, pulling it back to reveal her neck.
"He has marked you tonight, same as he has with her," he motioned to the girl, "You see, by our laws, blood is by what you live and die. It's by what you win, by what you lose, and by how you claim. Damon has claimed you tonight, by marking you with his blood. Much like the witch here, you're untouchable."
Elena was smirking now, "Claimed or not, I would still be untouchable. Damon does not give me the right to my body, it is mine to possess."
"Are you sure it is not your father's decision, princess? He did, after all, give your body to Stefan."
"And look how well that worked for him," she pointed out.
"Yes, I can not imagine he will be too pleased upon discovery. You will upset him greatly."
Elena shrugged, "I have been upsetting my father since I was old enough to tell him which dress I wanted to wear."
Lorenzo was chuckling again, "Oh, I can see why Damon likes you. You should tell him how rude it is to keep you for himself."
His hand brushed through her hair again, but this time, his eyes trailed the length of her body, "It really is a shame."
"Enzo."
Both Elena and Lorenzo turned their heads, just in time to see Damon parading forward.
"Enjoying ourselves?" He asked as he neared them, eyeing Enzo's hand on Elena's shoulder.
The man dropped it, under Damon's scrutiny, but smiled.
"Possessive bastard, you are."
Damon smirked, "Would you not be?"
Enzo's eyes roamed her again, "Completely."
Damon laughed, "You can ignore this one, Elena. He's centered enough on himself that I doubt he'll take much notice of any true beauty here tonight."
"I'm the centered one, am I, Damon?" Enzo rose a brow, playfully nudging him, "Why is it then that the slaves you have had brought here bear your mark? No plans to share tonight?"
"Not just yet," Damon allowed, turning to look at the girl, "I purchased this one for a purpose."
"Naturally," Enzo nodded, "I will leave you to you and yours then."
He bowed his head, winked at Elena, and left to join some others.
"He was interesting," Elena acknowledged, and Damon smiled down at her.
"He is certainly something. He was a soldier in Aurelia's army, a few years back. He's apart if this life now, and a close friend."
Elena nodded, as Damon looked over the slave.
"What did Enzo mean about you not sharing?"
Damon looked back at her, "My blood, on you, on her, is a warning of sorts. You've already been claimed, you are not to be touched, without my permission. You can understand why I placed it on you?"
Elena nodded, walking closer to the wall, "And her?"
Damon smiled, "I wanted her for you."
Elena looked up at him, "For me?"
He nodded, eyes once again on the slave girl, "She is upon her sixteenth year. Her blood is powerful. Not as strong as your Emily's, but strong enough. And..."
Elena watched as he stepped closer to the girl.
His hand rested against her lower stomach,then trailed down, under the skirt of her dress.
His hand moved up between her thighs, and as his fingers pushed into her, the girl flinched, but did not make a noise or move her eyes.
Damon smirked, "She is still pure."
"A virgin," Elena realized, "What does this matter? If it is her blood we want?"
"Shadowcasters are powered by the sacrifice of blood, darling. A virgin is a valued slave. It means untouched. Unused. It will increase the power you claim."
Elena crooked her head, eyes roaming over the girl with peaked curiosity.
"I would drink from her."
Damon laughed, "Of course you will."
He motioned to the girl, "Step forward."
She did as he commanded, though Elena noticed the slight tremble of the slave's knees as she came to stand next to Damon.
She was afraid of him.
Elena's eyes trailed over Damon, watching as he pulled out his dagger, that same hungry look in his eyes.
Perhaps the girl was rightful in her fear.
"The blood will be addictive," he warned, "Try to remember that we do not want her dead."
Elena nodded, "I can handle it."
Damon seemed to believe her, because he was then placing the blade in her hand.
"I find that the neck is the strongest flow," he advised, "Start there, but do not cut too deeply. And remember to heal the wounds once finished."
Again, Elena nodded, and moved to stand in front of the witch.
"Tilt your head," she commanded, "And I will attempt to make this painless."
The girl was well trained and crooked her neck easily.
Elena pressed the blade against the girl's skin.
Slowly, she drug the dagger across, until blood leaked from the wound.
The sight of it, so bold against pale skin, made Elena eager to taste it.
She leaned into the girl's throat, and her tongue probed her skin.
As soon as the blood touched her, Elena's body ignited.
It was power as she'd never felt, and she latched hard to the slave's neck.
She sucked in as much of the taste as she could with each breath.
The metallic edge to the blood was easily ignored by the sheer strength she felt rise in her with each drink.
A thousand times better than anything she'd ever experienced.
Then a hand was on her shoulder, a voice in her ear, "Elena, love, that's enough."
She felt her body protest.
The moan in her throat, the clenching of her muscles, all trying to postpone the separation she knew had to come.
But then that soft voice was replaced by softer lips, trailing up her neck, and all thoughts of blood were forgotten.
Elena released the girl and span around.
Damon's eyes were burning into her, wanting her, and she could not refuse him.
Reaching to him, she grasped his thin shirt and pulled him to her.
Their lips crashed and a different heat spread over her body.
She felt euphoric, as if the blood she had costumed was a drug, fueling her bliss, as Damon's teeth chewed on her bottom lip.
She jumped as his hands scooped her rear, her legs wrapping around him.
She was glad for the slits in the fabric now.
Their lips were so locked, she could taste more blood, but was unsure if it was his, the slave's, or even her own.
For the pain and pleasure were one and the same.
Her back connected with something hard and cold, the stone wall, perhaps, but she didn't care.
She didn't care that her mind was elsewhere, or that Damon was now pulling out his cock and aligning it to her.
She didn't care that a room full of people, doing similar things, surrounded her as Damon thrusted into her.
She didn't care that her moans joined a chorus of others in the hottest pleasure she'd ever felt.
All that mattered was the feeling of Damon's skin on her own, the beat of his heart, and the blood, running power through her veins.
The pleasure that just climbed and climbed.
She climaxed.
She screamed.
She was free.
Sooo Elena is getting a little deeper into the lifestyle :)
Can't wait to see what ya'll think!