Framed on the wall beside the fireplace was the pencil drawing I had done of her in Victorian dress.
"Charcoal pencil on sketch paper," I said dully. "It is just a study."
"Does it have a name?" the woman asked.
"If I were to name it," I said, "I might called it One Glass."
Lady Dunn stiffened for a moment, but she hid it by tugging my leash, lowering me back to my knees. I stared dully ahead, but then the woman said, "What is she working on now?"
I looked up only for a moment. "I will never paint or draw again."
I ignored everything else around me after that. I thought perhaps I heard my name and references to the paintings, but nothing registered in my brain. I went where I was tugged. I knelt when I was tugged. At one point, Lady Dunn took a place on one of the sofas, and she tugged me to the floor before whispering in my ear, "Sit. Lean against my legs."
Later, we made another tour of the room, me standing to walk a few steps, then down to kneel, over and over.
Then she drew me to the far end of the room. There was a table filled with glass goblets. The goblets were empty. I didn't understand it, but there was a plastic tarp on the floor in front of the table. Lady Dunn made me kneel, my back to the table, facing into the room. I stared at the floor. I didn't notice when she took my wrist, but I felt as her fangs bit into me savagely, and then she held a goblet under my wrist, catching the blood as it flowed from me. One by one, her guests came forward, accepting a goblet of my blood, and still she filled goblet after goblet. Oh, not full, perhaps only an ounce or two in each goblet, a splash of my blood, but she had a great many guests.
I felt my heart rate increasing, and I grew dizzy, and still I bled into the goblets. When the flow slowed, she bit into me again, opening the wound wider, and the flow continued.
I sagged, and someone came forward. Lady Dunn held me while the other vampire filled the goblets. I stared ahead, then I felt my eyes close.
From a distance, far above me, I head Lady Dunn say, "A toast, to vampire rule."
I knew nothing more.
Bleed Me, Bleed Me Dry
I woke. Slowly, I woke. My head hurt. My wrist hurt.
I drifted.
There were voices. I didn't care. It was over. It was all over. One glass of wine and one mission of mercy, and it was all over.
The voices grew more insistent, one voice in particular. "Wake up. Wake up."
I fought to return to sleep, to dreamless sleep, to death, but the voice wouldn't let me.
"Wake up, Melissa. Now."
I refused to listen.
Then the bed shift, and a moment later, wet flesh pressed against my mouth. I clamped my lips shut, but her hand squeezed my jaw, forcing me to open, and a familiar wrist was shoved into my mouth.
"Drink!"
I tried to refuse, but the blood hit my tongue, and I swallowed. Then again. And again. My hands crept to the wrist, clamping on, clamping the wrist to my mouth, and I drank.
I hated her.
I hated myself even more.
I sucked on her wrist long after the blood stopped flowing. Then, almost gently, she pulled away from me.
"Open your eyes," she ordered. "Right now."
I tried to refuse, but I couldn't. I opened, then blinked in the too bright light. Lady Dunn's face was before mine, and if I hadn't known better, I might have thought she cared.
"I hate you," I told her. "You are an evil animal, a sadistic bitch. It takes a vampire to pervert my beauty into something so horrible as you have done. When you are finally destroyed, I hope you still have a soul, because it will be consigned to the deepest depths of hell. You took what was beautiful, created to bring joy and celebrate life, and you hoard it away from the world to only be taken out when you want to proclaim to the rest of the vampire nation just how sick and twisted you all are. You take joy from destroying that which you cannot be."
And then I closed my eyes, and I refused to open them again after that.
I fought to return to sleep, doing the best to ignore the voice demanding I wake up, doing my best to ignore the hands shaking me.
And then another voice spoke gently. "After what you did to her, what did you expect?"
"I had to protect her," said the voice I hated. "Will she understand?"
"No. You have destroyed her."
"I can't have. She is stronger than that."
"I don't believe she is."
* * * *
For two days, I refused to eat and drink. They came to order me, the human cook, and her daughter, and the vampire, all taking turns, sometimes ordering, sometimes cajoling. I lay in bed, staring straight ahead, not moving.
I let them do to me whatever they wanted. The vampire pulled me from the bed, and the maid changed the sheets. I was bathed; I didn't pay attention. Water was pressed to my lips, but I refused to drink from it, but I didn't fight when she wet a small sponge and bathed the inside of my mouth, over and over, thus forcing fluid into my unwilling body.
The other vampire came, the one with the black skin. She did things to my body. Vaguely I recognized the touch of a doctor, and she was surprisingly gentle.
"Is she all right?" the hated vampire said.
"Physically, although she needs to eat. If she refuses, you may need to force her, but she will see it as another rape."
I was raped?
I didn't remember being raped.
Then I realized, it was a rape, but of a different kind. I decided it was exactly the right word.
"Is she... is she still there?"
"You heard her speech to you. Yes, she's there. She is only hiding. If she doesn't care, you can't hurt her anymore."
She gave me another day, another bathing, another changing of the bed, and then she propped me up, pillows at my back, and she sat on the bed.
"Melissa," she ordered. "Look at me."
I closed my eyes.
"Look at me!"
I thought about the piece, the first one, Light of the Lily. And in my mind, I poured charcoal lighter fluid over it, and I lit a match, then watched it burn.
And then, the next, from years ago, a painting of driftwood on a beach, but in a knot of the wood was a small pool, and in the pool swam two small fish, cut off from the ocean. I had called it "Knot of Life." In my mind, I pulled the canvas from the frame and fed it through a paper shredder, and industrial strength paper shredder able to chew through the canvas.
I knew I was crying, and the voice was yelling at me. "Look at me. Melissa, look at me."
And then there was pain as she squeezed her horrible claw into my shoulder.
"Look at me. Look at me!"
But I didn't care. Let her squeeze. It was just a fragile body. It would break, and then I would be free.
The third painting, in my mind, I eased into a tall, tall jar of turpentine, and I watched the paint begin to dissolve, the turpentine becoming cloudy with the colors as they leached from the painting.
She shook me like a rag doll. I didn't know why she cared. Why was I still alive? And then I understood. I needed to destroy the paintings, and then I could die.
But she didn't let me finish. I don't know why it took her so long, but she peeled my eyes open with her hands, and her eyes were in front of me. She glowed, and it was beautiful and horrible at the same time. I saw a reflection of a gaunt woman with stringy hair and a dead expression, and then I fell into the eyes.
And the woman had been right. It was a new rape as she took my mind, and in doing so took control of my body.
"Open your mouth," she said, and dully, I opened, staring into the eyes. A spoon entered my mouth. "Close your mouth." And I closed, and then the spoon was pulled out. "Swallow." And then she did it again and again.
Spoonful by spoonful, she filled my unwilling body with the soup. And then there was no more, and she stopped. She released me, turning away to replace the tray on the table by the door, but then she was back, and I watched her.
"Rapis
t," I said, and then I closed my eyes.
* * * *
The next time I was aware of the voice, she ordered me, "Look at me."
Instead, I opened my mouth. There was a pause, and then a spoon, and I closed.
When she was done, she caressed my cheek and kissed my forehead, but then I told her, "It is still rape."
* * * *
I didn't know how long I lay in that bed. I didn't count the meals, delivered one spoon at a time. My body healed, although it wasn't really my body that required healing. I knew it was days, when I bothered to think about it, I knew it was days, but I couldn't have told you how many.
The girl was there often. She lay on the bed next to me, talking to me, reading to me. Sometimes she brought her homework. Sometimes she told me about school. I couldn't remember her name. I wasn't sure if I cared.
She tried asking me questions. She tried to cajole me into talking to her. She threatened me with practical jokes if I didn't say at least one word, but they were empty threats.
But it was the vampire I saw the most. She fed me as I lay dully, opening my mouth, closing my mouth, swallowing. She, too, lay beside me, or sometimes cradling me in her arms.
* * * *
I don't know how many days it was. I woke, and there was a weight on my lap, a body lying across me, her above the blankets, me below, and she was crying.
I wasn't sure who it was, and I reached out with a hand to stroke her head. I didn't speak, but I offered comfort. The form stilled as I stroked her head, and it made me feel good to know I had calmed her tears.
And then her head lifted, and she stared at me.
The vampire stared at me.
Her cheeks were stained red with blood, lines leading from her eyes, and I knew vampires cried tears.
"Why did you cry?"
"Because I did this to you, and I am so afraid you aren't coming back."
And I went away again, not hearing anything further.
But after that, it was harder to hide from her, and it was harder to hide from the girl too.
I remembered her name. She was Ashlyn.
When next she came to me, and she cuddled on the bed with me, I cried, and she held me, whispering sweet words, assuring me everything would be all right, that I'd be all right.
She was lying, of course, but after that, I couldn't hide from her, as much as I tried.
The vampire doubled her efforts, and then she cheated.
She pulled me into her arms, there on the bed, her back against the covers, me cradled with my head against her shoulder, my bottom in her lap. And she tilted my head back and began licking my neck.
"No," I said. "No."
"Yes," she said. And she licked, and licked again.
But it was only a violation of my body, and it was just her tongue against my skin, and then I ignored her.
Until she bit me. There was the briefest moment of pain and then the deepest pleasure she had ever given me.
"No," I moaned.
Her fangs had driven her saliva deep into me, and there was so much. And then she licked at the wound, and it was bliss. The wound closed, and she bit again, this time without even a moment of pain, and in spite of myself, I moaned from the pleasure.
"You must stop," I pleaded.
The third time she drank, only a little, and I knew I was clutching her head to me, but then her tongue was bathing me, closing the wound, giving me such amazing pleasure, and I clutched her.
I lay in her arms for a while, and then my hands found her wrist, and I brought it to my mouth and tried to bite it, but I couldn't break the skin. She bit it for me, but she made me pull it to my mouth. I drank, sucking greedily.
When the wound closed, she bit it open again, offering it to me, and I pulled it to my mouth, and I sucked and sucked, taking all I could.
Then I lay spent, collapsed in her arms, but I could feel her blood in me, her pleasure running through me, and I knew I had lost the war. She had found me again.
She'd said she could find me, and I hadn't hidden well enough.
We lay together for a long time after that, lay together until my heart slowed.
And then I asked her, "Why did you do it?"
"To protect you," she whispered. "Only to protect you. They all believe you mean nothing to me now. You are just a blood slave to me, nothing else. You will be safe from them."
"Why?"
"I paid too much for you, and I waited too long to display such an expensive prize. I miscalculated. And then I miscalculated again."
"You lied to me. You promised you would take me to the garden and let me die."
"Your brain is intact. My promise does not apply."
"Why didn't you anyway? I am just a blood slave. Bleeding is what we do."
"You are not just a blood slave, Melissa. I care about you a great deal."
"I don't believe you."
* * * *
It took another three days before I moved from the bed on my own initiative, and it became easier and easier for them to draw me into conversation, even if it was meaningless.
I began to return to normal.
Meals came, and I ate them myself, although with someone always watching and chatting aimlessly about this or that.
The vampire came, and she ordered me to shower, and I did. And then she helped me dress. It was just undies, sweats, and slippers, but it was clothing. Then she took me by the arm and said, "We're going for a walk."
We walked the halls, up and down, but I grew tired.
"Did you want to sleep?"
"No."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing," I said. "I don't want anything."
So she took me downstairs. One of the rooms had a home theater. She set me on the sofa. "We'll watch a movie."
"I want popcorn and a soda. With sugar."
And she laughed with delight, then used her phone. "We're in the theater," she said. "Is it possible to bring popcorn? And a soda. I don't know what's good." She turned to me. "What is your favorite?"
"Fruity. Or clear and bubbly. Yeah. Clear and bubbly."
She couldn't have been more delighted. Then she hung up and asked what movie I wanted to watch.
"I don't care."
"New or old?"
"I don't care."
"Pick a star."
I stared at her, then smiled. I was sure I was about to stymie her. "The Philadelphia Story."
She laughed again. "Brilliant!" She crossed to a closet I didn't even know existed, opening it, and I swear, it was as big as her office. She stepped in and emerge a minute later with a DVD case. She crossed to the electronics, turned everything on, and slid the DVD into the machine. Then she sat down on the sofa with me. "Will you cuddle?"
I let her pull me against her, and by the time we had waded through all the threatening copyright notices, Maria stepped into the room pushing a cart. She had a large bowl of popcorn, a glass of ice and several cans of different types of soda, and a wine bottle. She served us, and I asked, "Can Maria stay?"
"Of course she can, if she wants."
"I'll have to pop out for a few minutes in an hour, but I'd love to stay."
She sat down on the other end of the sofa, but I told her she had to sit next to me if she wanted popcorn.
The vampire resumed the movie.
I loved the movie. It had Katherine Hepburn, after all, and she was always brilliant. Plus she was beautiful, and that didn't hurt. When Maria had to check on dinner, I demanded we pause the movie. While she was gone, I pushed away from the vampire's arms and turned to look at her.
She was smiling at me.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you being nice? Are you trying to fool me again?"
"Tell me something you want from me. Don't ask for your freedom, because I cannot grant it, even if I want to. Something else."
"Clothes."
"I will offer this. No clothes in the house, but clothes when we go outside. And
if I take you somewhere, you will not be satisfied with the amount of clothing, but I won't make you go naked."
"You're letting me wear clothing now."
"You need more healing, and feeling vulnerable won't help you."
"Are you offering a trade?"
"I am."
"Is this a privilege you'll remove again?"
"No."
"What trade?"
"Give me a chance."
"I gave you a chance. I gave you a very large chance."
"I know. I want another one."
"How big a chance?"
"Assume I care about you at least until you're back to strength."
"So you can take me down again?"
"That's what I mean. None of that. I am not doing this just to destroy you again."
"No."
"Consider this. I am a very, very wealthy woman. I can buy people willing to take your place, willing to let me treat them the way I treat you. And I wouldn't have spent the last two weeks fighting to bring any of them back to life. Why would I have invested that much of my valuable time if I didn't care?"
"You are a million years old," I said. "What are a few weeks to you? I bet you could devote years for the right kick."
She frowned. "I can't prove you are wrong," she finally said. "Give me the chance. For the clothing. I'll let you wear these horrible clothes for another day or so, but then they come back off. But you may dress when we go outside, and I will dress you when we go somewhere."
"We are going to start going places?"
"Yes. That is non-negotiable."
"I will be leashed?"
"Yes. And I will treat you coldly."
"More protection?"
"Yes. And you must act dully. If you cannot act dully, then I will bleed you low enough to help."
"You ask for a chance and then you tell me this?"
"Yes."
"Will you also humiliate me?"
"Not so badly."
"And I will not be pleased with the clothing I wear?"
"No. But if you do not accept my offer, it will be worse."
"Blackmail?"
"No. Just truth."
"You could leave me home when you go out."
"I paid too much for you. I must display you. Why else would I pay so much, if not to display you, unless I had other reasons."
"You wanted me to paint for you."
Blood Slave Page 17