"Did you want to try one more night?"
I shook my head. "No."
"I will see if Madame Cathalina would like to stop by tonight or if she would prefer Edie see to you."
Cathalina came herself that night about ten. I was in the theater room, staring at the screen, not paying much attention to what was on it.
"You should have called me," she said quietly.
"I can break this," I told her. I looked over my shoulder at her. "I know I can."
"Yes, but why do it the hard way?"
"I don't need her."
"Come on," she said. "I'll tuck you in. I can't believe you're even watching that."
"I'm not."
I let her draw me to my room. She tucked me into bed, turned off the lights, then said, "You need a few good nights. I will provide them. Then we shall see if we can ease you away from this need."
"I don't need it."
"Sleep is important for your health, so if you're not sleeping, then yes, you do. Do you want to argue with me when I am going to do what I must, either way?"
"No. Can you make me not dream?"
"Dreaming has been proven to be critical to mental health, although no one is sure why. So yes, I can, but I won't. I will try to make them good dreams, though. I think I can do that."
At her urging, I settled back then offered a wrist. She took it and waited for me to close my eyes, then she bit. It was warm and lovely and felt.. so... good.
She drank slowly, spreading pleasure at the same time. Then she shifted her position, pulled her mouth from my wrist for only a moment, and said, "Open your eyes."
She caught me with her glamour instantly; I was helpless to resist, but she placed her mouth back over my wrist at the same time. She spoke straight to my mind, telling me, "Everything will be all right. You are safe. You are secure." She sent more pleasure through me, and then she said, "Sleep now, Melissa."
I closed my eyes and slept.
* * * *
A few weeks turned into a month, and still Lady Dunn stayed away. One month turned into two, and two turned into four. Winter arrived, and still she hadn't returned home. Winter became cold then began to warm, and soon my sentence would be over.
Endings
I was asleep in her bed. If she was surprised to find me there, she didn't show it by the time I woke. I opened my eyes and saw hers watching me.
"Hey," I said sleepily. "I missed you. Am I dreaming?"
"No," she said. "I missed you, too. I like what you did to my bedroom."
Examples of my art were strewn everywhere. Whenever I finished a piece, they came in here. They were all horrible. Cathalina refused to let me sleep in here, the nights she came to me, because she was sure the art contributed to my nightmares, but I was down to only seeing her once every week or so and slept, more or less, all right in between. But I preferred this bed over my own, and so I had largely moved in most nights.
I started to stir. "I should kneel."
"No," she said. "Stay there. I like seeing you in my bed."
"Are you back?"
"I'm back. I shouldn't have to leave again."
"Were you gone so long because you really had things to take care of, or were you avoiding me?"
She didn't answer.
"Oh," I said into the pause.
"I'm back now. I had things to work through. I missed you and I wanted to be with you."
"All right," I said. "Did you look at them?"
She knew I meant the drawings and paintings. "Yes. They're magnificent."
"Horrible. I burned a few."
She didn't say anything to that.
"What am I going to do, Demetria?" I paused. "Do I still call you that, or was that just that night?"
"In private, yes. You're going to hang on, and then your sentence will be over, and you can live your life again."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I don't want to die, but I can't live without the beauty. I want the beauty back!"
"Shh," she said, caressing me. "This-" and she waved, "-is a reasonable reaction to your situation. And you can make a very, very good living doing this."
"Not interested."
"Shh," she said again. "You promised me three years. I am counting on that time."
I turned away. "Are you hungry?"
"A little peckish," she said. She stroked my neck with her fingers, and my body remembered her. "You'll get addicted again though."
"I'm still addicted," I whispered. "Madame Cathalina says it can take years to break the habit."
"She told me she only comes once a week, and that you report sleeping well in between. Have you been lying?"
"No, but I dream about you most nights."
"Good dreams?"
"Some. Some from that night."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
She moved closer, still stroking my neck with her fingers, and I began to tremble in anticipation.
"Come under the covers," I said. "And take your clothes off."
"I can satisfy half that request," she said, slipping between the sheets. She sat up, leaning against the headboard, and pulled me into her arms. Still, she didn't bite, but continued to stroke my neck.
"Have you had any other necks?"
"No."
"Wrists?"
"Yes."
"Did you give them pleasure?"
"Small pleasure."
"Stop teasing," I said.
"Oh, I like teasing you," she said, kissing my ear.
I was squirming badly long before she finally sank her fangs into me. The moment they entered me, I arched my back and sighed.
She took her time, sipping at me, and filling me with pleasure. I would have agreed to anything right then, anything at all, but all she asked for was my blood.
* * * *
Things remained somewhat tense. I knew she still felt guilty about what she had done to me, or perhaps only worried that I hated her for it.
Other than that, we returned to our old habits. In public, she was very domineering, and it was very clear I was her blood slave, to me, to her, to anyone watching. In private or just amongst friends, she was very kind.
I spent most nights in her bed, although not once did she let me see her naked, and she refused to answer questions why. She grew angry if I pushed, and a few times when I tried to undress her, she threw me out, locking me in my own bedroom until the next day.
Spring arrived, and I knew the day of my liberation was not far away, although I had no idea of the date, and I was not authorized to ask. But still, my art was horrible, and she had made no effort to help me find beauty.
Part of me wondered if my last night with her was going to be spent dangling over the table downstairs. I had nightmares about it, and the thought became a frequent element in my drawings. I invented a wide variety of ways she could hang me, a wide variety of ways she could drain me.
All she would say was, "None of this is going to happen."
Then, one day, she said "There is going to be a party tomorrow night, here."
"I see."
"It is intimate. Madame Cathalina, Edie. Is there anyone you would like to invite?"
"Is it someone's birthday?"
"No. I just wanted a little get together, and I want you to enjoy yourself."
"Maria?"
"And Ashlyn? Anyone else?"
"Why are you inviting the staff?"
"Because it pleases me to do so. Also, I am home all day and have cleared my calendar. We'll spend the day together, after my nap."
"All right. That would be nice."
"You could paint in the morning until I wake, if you like. We'll play racquetball after. Would you like me to sit for you for a while?"
"All right. Maybe I should start a new painting."
"I'd like a new drawing or two."
"I can do that, too."
And so, that's what happened. She brought me breakfast but then chased me out of her room while she sl
ept. I ate and cleaned up, then spent several hours in the studio. I had a few paintings in progress, and I worked on one of them.
Mid-morning, she came to me.
"Good morning, my lovely blood slave," she said from the doorway. "May I see?"
I looked at the painting. "It's not done."
"All right," she replied. "Did you want to continue to paint?"
"A few minutes," I said. "Then I can clean up."
She gathered a stool and set it up where she could watch me without invading on the privacy of what I was producing. She told me how much she enjoyed watching me.
I finished the detail I had been working on then turned to her. "You know, this color of paint would go good against your complexion."
She grinned. "We both know who is going to win any physical competitions of that nature."
I smiled and covered the canvas. Then I cocked my head. "Have you ever painted?"
"You know I can't."
"Elephants can paint. Are you going to suggest an elephant can do something you can't do?"
"Elephants can blow water through their noses, too."
"I bet you could if you tried."
She laughed.
I collected two blank canvases and set them up on the other two easels.
"What are you doing?"
"Painting lesson."
"Melissa..."
"Come on. You can splash paint onto the canvas. Come move these easels together for me, you big strong vampire, you."
"I think you are forgetting who is who in this relationship."
"I think I have lived here for nearly three years and not once have I seen you even attempt to hold one of my brushes. I bet you're holding out on me. I bet you were some great Renaissance painter, and you just don't want to show me up."
"I assure you, I was not a Renaissance painter."
"Is it going to kill you?" I asked her.
She growled at me, but she rose from the stool and moved the easels together.
"All right, what are we painting?" I asked.
"You."
"Too hard for a first effort."
"Let me rephrase. Your body."
I laughed. "Tell you what. If you can paint something that looks vaguely like the silk flower I'm about to set up for us, you can paint my body all you want."
"Really?"
"Yep. As soon as you buy some paint that is safe to wash down the drain."
"We have a lot of paint right here."
"I do not want to bathe in turpentine, and I do not believe you want me to smell like I bathed in turpentine. They make washable body paint. I've had some girlfriends who liked what I used to do to them with it."
"I don't want to hear another word about past girlfriends," she said.
"Move your stool over here," I said. "Now."
She growled, but she did what I said. There were silk flowers in an arrangement in the kitchen, so I collected them and returned with one of them. I used another stool as a pedestal and set the flower in a tall glass on the stool.
I collected the paint we would need then, while I was mixing colors for us, told her about paint.
"You have all those colors in here. Why are you mixing?"
"Because we don't have the right colors."
"Shouldn't we have bought them then?"
"You can't. Colors in the store come in discrete steps. What if you need a color in between them? Or a darker or lighter version of that color."
"Then mix them together. Or mix black in to make it darker."
"Do you want to know why that doesn't work as easily as you state it? Or should we start to paint?"
"I think I'd rather mix paint," she said. "All right, what do I do?"
"Well, it's traditional to start with finger painting."
She looked at me to see if I was serious. "All right," she said finally. She surprised me by dipping two fingers into the green paint I had just mixed then, faster than I could see, grabbed me around the waist.
"No!" I screeched, trying to get away from her. I knew better, of course.
She took her time, finally dabbing the paint into the tip of my nose and rubbing it in.
"Not near the eyes!"
When she was done, I had a floral green tip of my nose.
"This is fun," she said. "I could enjoy painting after all."
"Yes," I said. "I imagine you could." I held up my fingers. They were yellow. "Do you want to know where I touched you?"
"You didn't!" she declared.
"Are you sure?"
"Where?"
"Go look in a mirror," I said. "Oh, wait."
"You little shit," she said.
I studied her expression. "Are you really angry?"
"No," she said. "Did you really paint me?"
"No. I didn't want to ruin your clothes, and I couldn't reach your face."
"If I go ask Maria, is she going to agree with your assessment?"
"She and I could have planned this for the months you were gone."
"She wouldn't dare. You, however, would."
"Go ask her then," I said. "You may beat me senseless if there is any yellow paint on your face."
She studied me. "How about any paint anywhere?"
"There might be a little bit of yellow."
"Where?"
"Right here." And reached out and stroked her throat with my yellow-coated fingers.
She began laughing.
"Now I have paint on me."
"Yep."
"You will remove it before we go."
"You'll have to take the top off."
"You will remove it without that step being required."
"I might ruin the blouse."
"Then you ruin the blouse."
"All right. Shall we paint canvas now?"
She sighed. "What do I do?"
"Clean your hands." I gave her a rag and used another one for my own fingers. Then I gave her a couple of brushes.
We spent an hour or so at it. She was right; she didn't have a creative bone in her body. I painted quickly, producing a crude flower that was emitting toxic gas. She produced something that looked vaguely like an elephant tried to paint a flower.
"Yours is prettier," I declared. "Bold strokes."
"Shut up."
But she was grinning at me.
"Admit it. You had fun."
"If you show this to anyone, you will regret it."
"Admit you had fun, and I'll take care of the paint you painted on yourself."
"I didn't."
"You certainly did."
She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to the mirror in the bathroom. "I don't see it." She made a show of posing in front of the mirror as if she were looking for paint.
"Good one," I said. I grabbed a clean towel and began cleaning her off.
* * * *
We spent the entire day together, and it was one of my best days since joining her. We laughed, quite a bit.
And she sipped from me, too, quite a bit. I spent much of the afternoon high from the pleasure she gave me.
"I am so addicted," I said softly.
"I am, too," she replied.
Finally she told me to shower. "I'll be back in a half hour. I have something new for you to wear."
"I thought we were staying in."
"We are, but I want you to wear this tonight."
She was gone a little longer than a half hour, and I could tell she had showered as well. But I didn't like the way her hair was done, so I redid it.
She had a garment bag with her. She told me to stand, and then she opened the bag to expose a simple black dress. She also had everything to go with it, and she dressed me slowly, finally slipping me into the dress and zipping the back.
"It's lovely, Demetria," I said. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."
Finally, she clipped my leash into place and tugged me playfully from the room. "Our guests are waiting."
Waiting downstairs were Maria, Ashlyn, Cathal
ina and Edie. Cathalina and Edie had glasses of blood. There was soda for Ashlyn and me. Maria wasn't drinking anything. They were all dressed simply as well.
"You look great, Melissa," Ashlyn said. She stepped over to me and hugged me. Lady Dunn tugged me to kneel very briefly to Edie and Madame Cathalina, but that was the last time she tugged me to kneel until we were alone later.
It was a simple party with finger food for the humans and blood for the vampires. I tried to figure out what the event was, but Lady Dunn simply said, "I wanted a relaxing time with friends."
Our guests stayed until midnight precisely. I received fierce hugs from Edie and Cathalina and a promise from Cathalina to "see you soon". I wasn't expecting either hug and was surprised. Ashlyn and Maria both hugged me good night as well, which wasn't normal, either.
Then my mistress pulled me to her room.
"Would you like to sit in front of the fire?"
"I am your-" but she stopped me.
"What would you like?"
"I don't want the evening to end," I admitted. "Why did they leave so early?"
"Because I wanted to spend time alone with you."
"We can cuddle if you like," I said. "Can I fetch you a fresh glass?"
"No. I am letting my palate clear."
"Oh?"
"You're going to need a little transfusion."
"Oh. I see."
"Does that bother you?"
"No, Demetria."
And so, we cuddled, and after a while she began caressing my neck. And a little after that, she slipped the clothes off me.
She took her time biting me. She took even more time drinking. I was long, long lost to the pleasures before she was done. I never noticed when she bundled me into her bed and inserted the I.V..
I slept, at peace.
* * * *
She let me sleep in the following morning, and it was full day before she woke me. "Good morning?"
"Get up," she said. "We have things to do, places to go, people to see!"
"I get another day with you?"
"A few hours, at least," she said. "After that, it will be up to you. Go shower. Your breakfast will be ready for you, then I have clothes for you to wear."
"We're going out?"
"We are. And don't dawdle, either."
"No, m'lady."
She rejoined me after my breakfast, and she had the white dress I'd worn the day I'd seen my mother and friends. "I get to wear that? Where are we going?"
Blood Slave Page 43