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Does she deserve it?

Probably not, but I want to see her squirm.

I barely process Hunter crudely drawing the star and circle between the valley of her breasts or him wiping off his hands,I’m too busy looking at the sweet pussy I’d had the pleasure of touching at the King’s command. The inside of her body belongs to him, but the outside, that’s all us.

I graze a sticky thumb between her legs and her body trembles.

“Keep doing that,” Hunter tells me, picking up the knife.ThatI do notice. Leaning over her body, the blade glints in the firelight as he lowers it to her chest.

“Please don’t,” she whispers, eyes wide and pleading.

“Every Baroness receives the mark, sister,” he explains, pressing the tip of the blade into her skin. At the same moment I flatten the pad of my thumb over her clit. She groans, teeth bearing down on her bottom lip. The blade curves and starts down the first line of the star, carving deep into her flesh. Her eyes squeeze shut and a scream rips from her mouth. Down between her thighs, I apply more pressure, rubbing a slick little circle over her clit.

“One down,” he tells her, before starting on the next.

Her eyes flick to mine. There’s conflict in them, fear and want. The urge to scream and run. Right now she’s ours, tied up, blood soaked, panting, and in pain.

“Every time he cuts you, I’m going to give you a little stroke,” I explain, holding my fingers a hair's breadth away from her body. “Just a little lesson that pain can also come with pleasure.” I grin. “Especially if you’re a good girl.”

This woman is wicked to the core, there’s no doubt about it, but that’s what makes this so fun. Hunter continues making his cuts and for every one I tease that hot little nub. Her hands make tight little fists by her side, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. There’s no doubt the pain is severe, the cuts causing a fresh cascade of blood to slide down between her tits and pool on her belly. Her cries become more erratic, less distressed, and more pleading. Hunter starts the curve of the circle to finish outthe pentagram and I tell her, “It’s time to let go, Sister. Let me feel you come on my fingers.”

Picking up my pace, I flick the tiny nub, my cock growing harder with every touch. In the small amount of space she can move, her hips chase my movements, wanting it so fucking bad. I could give it to her and watch her unfurl, but…

Where’s the fun in that?

I bring her to the edge, to the place where she wants it more than any of us, more than she wants the pain to stop. On her chest, Hunter finishes the pentagram, the two ends of the circle meeting like a snake eating its tail. Her breath catches, her pussy warm and slick, and then I withdraw my fingers. Her reaction is a strangled cry.

“Good work,” I tell Hunter, wiping my fingers off with one of the cloths. I’m impressed. Not many people can handle this level of handiwork. Unless they have experience.

He holds out the knife. “You want in?”

“Hmm,” I muse, moving around the altar, well aware that Arianette’s breath is still unsteady, her hips chasing my phantom touch. It would be so easy to give her what she wants, but she needs to understand who holds the power here. And it’s not her. The pentagram is solid. It’ll scar nicely. “No.”

He nods, wiping the blood off the knife with the hem of his shirt, unaware that I prefer to do my marking in private and when I have more time.

Looking back at the King, I notice the orange-pink glow rising behind the trees. He lifts his hand. “Bring her to me.”

She watches as Hunter and I quickly untie the binds and when she’s loose, we help her sit up.

“Can you walk?” Hunter asks.

She winces. “Yes.”

“Good.” I brace one side of her and Hunter the other. In her ear I whisper, “Stand before the King and accept your role.”

She looks like a nightmare. We all do, covered in blood and dirt. It’s been a long night, filled with violence and betrayal. Secrets and deceit. All of it, the Hunt, the Claiming. I understand it a little better now. It’s not just an initiation. It’s a bond that ties us together.

That doesn’t mean I trust her though. Fuck no.

“Dawn is breaking,” the Baron King says, rising from the throne, “and the hunt, as well as your initiation, are complete.” His gaze falls to Arianette, who stands before him naked and blood soaked. “And now my new Daughter of the Night, you must take the Oath of Fealty.” He places his hand on her forehead. “From blood to blood, a Baroness is born.”

Arianette, trembling from the cold and possible blood loss, repeats him word for word.

“Today, I am risen anew, at your service, loyal to my King and the men who claimed me.” She continues, swallowing at the end of the sentence. “If my oath is broken, my loyalty compromised, I will suffer the consequences.” He looks out over our heads and adds, “Memento Mori.”

A low but strong chorus echoes through the trees. “Memento Mori.”

A new season has begun.