by Radclyffe
Natalie ran her hands up under the wet, sticking teddy. “And you are mine. You know you are. I can’t get you out of my mind.”
“I know,” she purred as she gyrated her hips, straddling Natalie. The teddy came up and off and disappeared as it fell from the tub. Natalie stared at her dark nipples and her smeared lipstick. Emily was glistening wet and coming at her again, kissing her hard as she slipped her hand between Natalie’s legs.
She felt so warm against her, so hot in the warm water. Her mouth was like molten velvet and her hand, her hand was magical, knowing exactly how and where to stroke her.
“Oh God,” Natalie said, unable to control the intensifying pleasure. Emily threw her head back and laughed.
“Yes, Natalie. Say it again. Say it again and again.” She dove back into her, biting playfully hard into her neck. Her hand continued and Natalie closed her eyes, overcome with ecstasy. Emily groaned and continued to devour her, pumping against Natalie’s leg. She grabbed Natalie’s hand and placed it on her breast.
“I want you to come, Natalie,” she said. “I want you to come so hard.”
Natalie cried out as Emily hurried her pace, stroking her clit expertly up and down and up and down.
“Oh God,” Natalie said. “Oh God, oh God.”
“Yes, Natalie.” She leaned again. “Are you close?”
“Ye-es.”
Emily laughed and nibbled on her ear. “Then, come, cunt.”
The voice wasn’t Emily. It was the dark man. Deep and demonic in her ear. And then there was laughter, his laughter.
Natalie’s eyes flew open. Her stomach twisted in fright and horror. The man was on top of her, all black and slimy, licking her neck with a long, hideous tongue. His lips peeled back as he laughed, and his black, slime-crusted skin morphed into mist and then back into skin again.
Natalie struggled, pushing him away. But her hands couldn’t seem to find him, slipping off his slimy skin one instant and then moving right through him the next.
She managed to push herself up as the form laughed and pulled at her body with grotesque hands. Desperate, she flailed, trying to jump from the tub. Screaming and shoving she slipped and fell, smacking her head on the edge of the tub as she tumbled out. Her body hit the floor bone-crackingly hard, slamming her cheek against the tile.
And as she lay there, unable to move, the dark man ran his hands up her legs to her buttocks, laughing.
In her mind she asked a single question.
Who are you?
The answer came on the mirror. The letter D formed in front of the word she’d written earlier, spelling…
DEVIL.
*
Vicki pulled her car to a stop in front of Natalie’s house. She’d been trying to reach her all day and had even left several messages. Finally, worry got the better of her. She’d never tracked down a patient this urgently, but Natalie seemed on the brink of doing something very harmful to herself. After she’d looked further into her background and made a few calls, her concern had led to near panic.
Climbing from her vehicle, she took in the neglected yard and the tiny house still glistening from the fresh rain. The storm clouds hung in the air, circling the sun as if waiting to gather and pounce once again. An older model car sat in the driveway, giving promise that someone might be home. Maybe Natalie was just avoiding her phone calls. It wouldn’t be the first time a patient ignored her and her advice. It happened more than she’d like to think.
She trotted up the stairs and knocked on the door. A crinkled piece of paper blew a little toward her feet. She opened it and read, and her panic returned. She knocked on the door again and called out. There was no answer and she was about to knock again when the door suddenly clicked open. She pushed it further and shouted a hello. The house was dark and quiet.
Vicki made her way inside. “Natalie?”
No answer.
Her nerves began to get the better of her. What if something had happened? What if someone had broken in? Was Natalie okay? She decided to check the house quickly and leave. She didn’t like the feel of it. It was cold, dark, and yet oddly smothering. Like something was pressing down on her and watching her closely.
“Natalie? It’s Dr. Moreno. Are you okay?” She moved from room to room until finally she came upon the bathroom and edged the door open. She inhaled sharply as she saw Natalie lying nude on the floor, apparently unconscious. “Natalie!”
She ran toward her and skidded on her knees to her side. A quick check of her pulse confirmed life, and she tapped her cheek and called her name as she scanned her body for injuries. Other than the blood on her mouth and head there seemed to be none. The blood on the edge of the tub suggested she had fallen and hit her head. But wait. The bath water was pink too. What the hell had happened?
Quickly she dug out her cell phone, called 911, and reported the situation. She covered Natalie with a towel and gently squeezed her shoulder.
“Natalie, come on, come around.”
The bathroom door slammed closed behind her and she jumped. Someone was in the house. Her heart leaped to her throat and she backed to the wall, phone in hand. A small whimper came from Natalie.
“Doctor?”
Vicki knelt, too afraid to put her back to the door. “Natalie, yes, it’s me.”
Her eye was open and she licked her dried lips to speak again. “You came here?”
“Yes. I was worried and—”
“You were worried? About me?”
“Yes.”
“You—you shouldn’t have come.”
“Why? Natalie, is someone in the house? Did someone do this to you?”
She began to sob, but still seemed hesitant to move. “Ge-get out.”
“What?” Vicki whispered.
“Get out!”
The door flew open and a rush of cold wind came at them, slamming Vicki against the wall, spinning Natalie around on the floor. Natalie cried harder and tried to fight against the unseen force. Vicki screamed, unable to move. Something whispered in her ear. Something demonic.
“Bitch,” it said and she screamed again.
Suddenly Natalie was up on her feet, staggering around. She shouted at something, cussed at it. She yelped and jumped back as slash marks appeared on her abdomen. And then her face jerked as something seemed to slap her. Crying and yelling, Natalie scurried toward the tub and grabbed a razor blade.
“You want me?” she yelled. “You can have me.” She started to slice at her wrist.
“Natalie, no!” Vicki grabbed at her hand. “No!”
Natalie froze and stared at her. “I have to, Doctor.” Slobber ran down her chin from tears and fright. “I’ve let something in. I’ve let the devil in and now he won’t let me go.”
“Natalie, don’t hurt yourself. Please don’t.”
“I have to! And then I can be with Emily forever.”
Vicki struggled, still powerless to move. Hot, putrid breath wafted over her neck and a hand slid up her leg. She cringed as she tried to speak.
“Natalie, think about it. You won’t be with Emily. You won’t.”
“Yes, I will!” She trembled. “I see her all the time. You—you don’t understand. I see her. On the other side.”
“Natalie, you won’t. It’s a trick. It’s all…it’s something evil.”
“Which is why I’m leaving! All I want is Emily!” Natalie ground her teeth and shoved the blade into her wrist, tearing open her skin. She screamed and so did Vicki.
“Natalie!”
But it was too late. The wound was deep, and she collapsed on the floor as her dark crimson blood pulsed onto the tiles.
The force pinning Vicki down suddenly disappeared and she nearly fell from the wall. She pressed a towel to Natalie’s wrist, pressed down hard, and prayed. Behind her voices called out.
Human voices.
*
The morning was bright and seemingly cheery, despite the previous day’s happenings. Vicki sipped her blissfully hot co
ffee as she made her way to the hospital ward. She hadn’t slept the night before, unsure about many things. A late-night phone call to a priest finally eased the question of her sanity. It seemed that demons were real and what she’d experienced was indeed evil. But what worried her most was Natalie. The demon she’d let in seemed to be the least of her problems. Vicki had spent the rest of the night trying to decide how to best approach her.
She found Natalie behind the third curtain, wrist heavily bandaged, leather straps wrapped around her arms so she couldn’t harm herself. Nearby a patient moaned in subdued mental agony.
Natalie was already awake when she entered.
“Good morning,” Vicki said.
Natalie turned to face her. Her cheeks and eyes looked heavy from the sedative they’d given her, the dark bruising already turning yellow.
“Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Numb.”
“That’s probably good at this point.”
Natalie blinked slowly. “You came. Yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Because you cared.”
“Yes.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I do care, Natalie. I care very much. In fact, that’s the reason I’m here. I have something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” Her eyes were large and liquid with darkness shadowed beneath. Her face looked sallow and pale around the bruising.
Vicki took a big breath. “Natalie, Emily isn’t dead.” Natalie blinked but said nothing.
“She’s a woman you were obsessed with two years ago. She filed charges against you and—”
“I see her on the other side.” Natalie seemed strangely calm and almost completely lucid.
“What you saw wasn’t real. It was a dream or a hallucination or a trick of evil.”
“I saw Emily. She was mine. And I was her everything.”
“Are you hearing me, Natalie? Emily isn’t dead. She’s alive. She’s healthy. And she’s never been with you.”
“Yes, she has. Many, many times.”
Vicki placed her coffee on the nearby counter and ran her hands through her hair.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me, Natalie.”
“I am.”
“Then what did I say?”
“That Emily is alive.”
“Yes. And how does that make you feel?”
She smiled, her eyes feverishly bright. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I no longer need Emily. Now I have you. You are my everything and soon I will be yours.”
Study Break
Rebekah Weatherspoon
I keep my eyes on my translation as Cleo watches me. My breasts are exposed, but she’s watching my eyes as I look back and forth between the pages of my book and my notes. The assignment is easy. Translate the first page of your favorite book from English to German. It’s no challenge, the homework, but keeping still under Cleo’s focus takes all of my effort.
I want her. I always do, and she knows this. I picked her the first day of Rush. I saw her across the quad that afternoon and as I approached their designated table, Cleo saw me. Through my awful scraggly hair and my zits—and my weight—she saw my potential. My skin is clear now and my hair tamed, but she still sees past my size eighteen jeans. It’s my eyes, she tells me, and my boobs and my lips, but my eyes that she loves. I think it’s my focus. And my obedience.
Daddy told me I would be a member of Alpha Beta Omega Sorority the day I graduated from middle school. I only assumed I would be placed in the Alpha Chapter at Maryland University because it’s the closest to Mama and Daddy’s house in D.C.
The sorority is a front. An organization that Demon-Class A.6, as the government refers to him, created. My father, Dalhem, though not by birth, is the only pure demon-bourne left in this part of the world. His vampire children need to feed and the humans they drink from need to be trained from an early age. We must learn to share our lives with our demons, our vampires, and appreciate the need for our services. Away from our parents for the first time, the select few of us pulled from the student body to join the local chapter where our Sister-Queens wait for us.
Daddy’s assigned me to his most powerful demon, his favorite. My Sister-Queen, Camila, is beautiful, but young by vampire standards. She loves me and respects that I refuse to have a sexual relationship with her. My sorority sisters jump at the chance to sleep with their demons. I do not. Though at this point Camila doesn’t mind. She’s taken a human of her own to see on a monogamous basis. They are happy and probably making love at this very moment. But they are far from my mind.
Cleo is still watching me.
I adjust the black and red blanket over my shoulders. Every room in the house has security cameras. We aren’t monitored constantly, but just in case one of our demons happens to check the feeds, I sit with my back to the mount in the top left corner of Cleo’s room. I expected several things to happen during orientation—like forcing myself to socialize—but I never expected what I found with Cleo.
Our relationship is a secret. It’s my choice. The favorite pastime for the teenage girl is gossiping. Say what you like about the way I look or my shy, reserved nature, but my relationships won’t be offered up for spectator speculation. Cleo likes this idea, and a month ago she agreed to my other terms. Now she is my mistress. She directs me and I obey her. We are both happy.
The other girls just think I’m shy and I’ve latched on to Cleo because she is bold and loud. A drop-dead gorgeous African goddess, and she has taken a shine to me, but the truth is I saw her strength and I chose her. She’s a favorite in Alpha Beta Omega, a junior where I’m a freshman. And I’m sure the other girls do talk about the time Cleo and I spend alone or the fact that neither of us participate in the weekly orgies, but as far as I am concerned, it is just talk. Nowhere near the truth.
Cleo looks back down at her own anthropology notes for a moment. Soon she watches me again.
“Lick your finger,” she says. My dorm room across campus is the only place we play full out. Here in the Alpha Beta Omega house, as Cleo likes to say, we pre-game.
I do as she tells me and lick the tip of my middle finger. I know what she has in mind, but I wait for her instructions.
“Good, Bunny.” That is our joke. “Now rub your nipple.” I do as she tells me. My hand drifts to my breast. I cup it and spread the moisture from my mouth around. Cleo knows how it makes me feel. I am already wet. I’m always aroused when we’re together, often when we’re apart. My breasts are especially sensitive. I rub the tip and hold back a shudder. My eyes give me away, though. They flutter closed.
“Look at me while you do it.” Her voice is calm and distant, but I can tell that she’s hot and ready. I watch her brown eyes, the same shade as her soft brown skin, as she watches me. She licks her lips, not casually. Her mind is racing, I can tell. She’s thinking the same things as me. She wishes there were no camera. She wishes there were no chance of a nosy sorority sister bursting in. She wishes that studying in my cramped dorm room made more sense than stretching out in her spacious suite. The bathroom is camera free, but it’s shared with Danni, the junior girl in the adjoining bedroom. We’ll both have to wait for more.
Almost as if to curb our arousal, the phone rings. It’s Camila. Only our demons use the landlines. I drop my hand as she turns for the phone, but I don’t cover myself.
“Ahoy hoy,” she sings into the phone. Cleo and Camila are friends. They were lovers once, but there’s a genuine respect and they enjoy each other’s company. Camila is nearly sixty years older, but they click very well.
“Just studying with B,” she says. Cleo flips her notebook closed and leans against her pillows. She stares at my breasts as she speaks again. “No, that’s cool. Okay. See you in a sec.” I watch her as she hangs up the phone.
“It’s my turn to feed,” Cleo tells me. “C
amila’s on her way up.”
“Oh,” I say as I close my book. Then I tuck my E cups back into my bra. “I’ll go down to the study lounge.” I pull my shirt back into place and drop the blanket.
It’s another rule we have. I don’t offer my feedings with an audience and neither does Cleo. We orgasm when our demons feed. There is no way to avoid it. The pleasure is unparalleled and instant. After, you are sex crazed. You want more, and usually our Sister-Queens are more than willing to take us in other ways. Our sorority sisters too. Casual sex is a constant thing in the Alpha Beta Omega house and something I’m just not comfortable with.
I enjoy my feedings with Camila, even though I don’t talk about it like the other girls do. Immediately after, I want Cleo’s hands on me, and when it comes to Cleo, I don’t want to see Camila take her neck. I’m jealous, but it goes both ways. I also don’t like the idea of Cleo watching someone put their mouth or their hands on my body.
“Wait,” Cleo says. She puts her hand on my knee. I freeze. She bites at the corner of her mouth. “I want you to stay.”
“I should go.” This is me speaking, Benny, not her submissive Bunny-pet. “You’re already worked up. I should go and Camila can take care of you.”
“I know she’ll take care of me, but…” Her voice changes. She is stern now and I know my place. It’s what I asked for. “I want my Bunny to stay. I want you to watch,” she says.
My first instinct is to argue. We’ve discussed this before, but then she is watching me again. I live to please her. Her joy is mine. My body and my heart are hers. We are on my terms, but I’ve never been able to deny her.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I want to look at you while I come.”
My pussy clenches at the thought, but I am still wary. For me, several things could go wrong. Camila needs this feeding to sustain her sanity and her vampire flesh. She needs our blood in controlled amounts, at set times to guarantee our safety. It wouldn’t help any of us if my hangups were to interrupt their interaction, but that is not the real reason I should leave. The last thing I need is a visual reminder of the one thing I want, but cannot have, the only thing Cleo refuses to give me: the exchange of her human life for the powerful existence of a vampire. I’d happily service Camila for the rest of my natural mortal life, but she’s not the demon I want. It’s Cleo.