by Mina Vaughn
“Because you are frightened,” he said, “but you shouldn’t be.”
“No, William, that is not the reason I plan on punishing you so severely today,” I said, opening a drawer and pulling out Big Bad—my epic paddle. I wanted to see some sort of fear, or arousal, or some reaction other than what he did then.
He made the saddest face I had ever seen. He looked like I had taken his heart out Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom–style and done the Mexican hat dance on it.
Olé!
“But if you didn’t read it—” he said sullenly, but I cut him off.
“Oh, I read it all right,” I said, seething. “You have been keeping something from me.”
His face turned from sorrow to confusion. “Mistress, I told you about my nature from day one. I am a vampire. Please believe me—I can prove it to you in so many ways, but I have been afraid of frightening you.” He pleaded with his eyes, since the rest of his body was immobile.
I couldn’t hold it in any longer—I had to confront him.
“You were a virgin when we met?” I shrieked, grabbing Big Bad and slapping the broad side against my palm.
And he did the most audacious thing I could imagine.
He laughed.
“You are accepting of my nature as a vampire, but not the fact that I was . . . sexually inexperienced when we met?” he asked incredulously, as an impish smirk threatened to spread into an entire smile.
In response, I lifted my knee and placed the sharp heel of my boot on his seated legs. He made a soft sound, much like a moan, but more angelic. Now that he was unafraid of showing his . . . supernaturalness? . . . I guess he didn’t mind dropping his human façade. “You like my choice in footwear?” I asked, taunting him.
“God, yes, Mistress,” he breathed. I knew at that moment he wanted to be out of the shackles. I smiled in satisfaction. “Lick my boots.”
I threw my foot up over the arm of the chair and brought it to his face. He licked the vinyl, closing his eyes in rapture.
“Suck the heel.”
He took the long point deep into his mouth and opened his eyes.
“I bet you also like my catsuit, William,” I said, unzipping it slowly from the top, exposing an inch of skin, just like in his fantasy, only not a kimono.
He made the angel sound again, and replied, “Yes.”
I slid my hands over the vinyl and path of flesh suggestively. “I’m going to give you a taste,” I said, and he truly moaned this time.
I didn’t tell him what he was going to get a taste of.
“Now, William, I’m surprised I didn’t read anything about drinking blood in your journals. So, is there something you’d like to taste even more than this?” I asked, touching myself intimately and running my wet finger across his lips.
His tongue flicked out hungrily, but the moment he registered my words, his rapture turned to horror.
“Mistress, please, no,” he said, terror creeping its way into his voice.
I grabbed a small penknife from my toy box. It was usually meant to cut rope in case of emergency. Usually.
“What’s the problem, William? You must drink other humans’ blood—why not mine? Doesn’t it tempt you?” I said, twirling the knife between my fingers.
He growled, and frowned, and shook his head violently. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with panic. “You make me feel safe . . . from myself.”
“You won’t hurt me—I’ll make the cut. I understand that most submissives would never hurt their mistress,” I explained, “but this is how I am going to punish you for your . . . less than honest behavior toward me.”
He nearly exploded. “I could break out of these shackles and kill you,” he seethed, in both anger and fear. “I’m completely under your submission, Mistress, to a fault. But what if I don’t notice how much I’ve drunk? You think these can hold me back?” he asked. He flicked his left wrist, and the giant metal shackle fell loose and hit the ground with a foreboding clunk.
My eyes widened.
“Do you dare defy your mistress?” I asked. “Put your hand back and stay still, William,” I challenged.
He placed his wrist back onto the chair and looked at me sternly. “Please, Mistress, allow me to be punished in some other way. Some way that may not threaten your life.” There was sarcasm there, but I knew he was doing it out of concern for me and not out of sassiness.
“No, William,” I said sternly. “You will take the punishment I give you. In fact, your challenging tone has solidified your punishment in my mind. You won’t harm me because I’m your Domme, and it’s in your nature to obey me. You’re a submissive first and a vampire second in my bedroom. Now, take your medicine.”
Okay, this was it. Was he a fuckhot vampire about to make me his snack, or just some whackjob with superb journaling skills? Oddly enough, I preferred the former. I took the small knife and made a tiny incision between my breasts. It was barely a nick—I almost didn’t feel it.
But he did.
The reaction from William was startling. He jolted upright in the chair, shattering the ankle restraints as well as the one remaining wrist shackle.
But he didn’t get up. He simply kept his arms and legs in place, and looked at me levelly. He was shaking, but otherwise unperturbed.
Then I noticed why.
“Breathe, William,” I commanded.
His normally stoic face shook as he drew a ragged breath. “Mistress, please,” he choked. “Yellow.”
Fuck—he was going to safe-word. I had to talk him down.
I walked closer to him. “But I thought you desired this, William. It is your nature,” I said, not sure if I was taunting him, or asking for an actual response. “Don’t you like it?”
His eyes lolled in his head and he took another breath. “Yes, I do,” he said with a struggle. “But I’m afraid.”
I nodded at him. “Good. This is punishment. It should be both pleasurable and uncomfortable. But it will be over soon,” I said, grabbing a tissue. He sighed loudly.
He thought I was going to wipe the blood away. Instead, I blotted a dab on the tissue and brought it to his face.
“You can do this, William,” I said, waggling it under his nose.
He growled and licked his lips. This wasn’t torture, I decided, he wanted it. I stroked his erect length to encourage him.
“You’re doing great,” I said.
He grunted.
“I’m going to let you taste it now,” I said, climbing up on his lap. I sat on my knees, atop his thighs, and brought my breasts level with his face.
He shuddered in either ecstasy or horror or some feeling unknown to humans.
I brought my chest, along with the small trail of blood, to his face and made my demand. “Lick.”
William opened his mouth, looked up at me, and ran his cool tongue down the curve of my half-exposed right breast. I bit my lip, and my eyes rolled back at the sensation.
“Come on, William,” I teased. “I know you’ll be okay. Do it.”
He lapped at my chest again, using his tongue to push the shiny fabric off my nipple, exposing me. He swirled his tongue over it, wetly.
“Don’t distract me, William. Drink,” I said.
He worshipped my breast with his mouth for a minute, and then spoke into my warm flesh. “I think I need a little more distraction, Mistress. Something to take my mind off my impulses, perhaps.” I smiled, knowing exactly what he needed.
I untied the cord on his neck, allowing his head full range of motion, and moved from kneeling position to straddling. I parted my legs widely, and slid him home.
“Ahh, Mistress,” he groaned. I pushed closer to William, swallowing him within me deeply, completely.
“Are you ready?” I asked, grinding my hips against his, slowly.
A ripple of pleasure coursed through William’s body as the taste of my blood first hit him. “Thank you,” he groaned loudly, and began to thrust wantonly as his mouth claimed its ultimate prize.
I was amazed at his speed, which he was showing in front of me for the first time. His head bobbed back and forth, consuming every last molecule of blood that had run from my breasts to my navel. He was thorough in every way. Once the little trail was clear, he buried his head in my cleavage and sucked on the small wound.
The thrusting sped up, and I knotted my hands in his hair as I bucked with him wildly. We were both in a frenzy, beyond cognition. He was caressing me from the inside out. I felt the blood being siphoned between the two of us, feeding our mutual lust.
But the sight that made me orgasm explosively was when he sat up, sated, and licked his red lips greedily.
“God, William,” I moaned. For a moment, they were one and the same. God and William. Dark deity of blood and sex.
He smiled, eyes strangely tranquil, and gripped me hard as he came along with me.
I clung to his sleek body and rode out the waves of pleasure. My heartbeat slowly returned to normal, but the smile was permanently fixed on my face. That was far too good.
Moments later, I was still sprawled in his lap, collapsed against his hard chest. I told him he could get up from the dungeon chair, and that his punishment was over. He sat up and carried me to my bed.
“May I grab something in the kitchen, Mistress? I need to make sure you’re not woozy when you get up. You lost a little blood,” he said coyly.
I nodded, still unable to form words.
He returned, still naked, with a plate of fruit along with a glass of milk.
Seriously, did I have the best life ever or what?
I was panting, but pretty hungry. Before I could make a motion to grab a morsel of food, William picked a grape and fed it to me. I savored the momentary touch of his fingers against my lips.
He fed me slowly, lovingly, and occasionally ran his hands through my hair as I chewed. We never broke eye contact.
“This should hold you until dinner,” he said softly. “I’ll go make it for you now.” He moved to get up, but I grabbed his bicep and pulled him closer.
“Stay,” I said.
He smiled. “You fed me something more delicious than I could imagine, Mistress,” he said, “so it’s only fair I prepare something equally enticing for you.”
I didn’t let go of his arm. “You’re enticing,” I said, pulling him back down. “You can make me something yummy for breakfast instead,” I suggested, knowing full well what that implied.
His eyebrows flicked upward, questioning me.
“Stay,” I whispered again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cerise
“I think we went through your entire toy box last night,” William chuckled while stirring the blueberry waffle batter.
I took a long, satisfying swig of my fresh-squeezed orange juice and looked at him levelly. “And broke seventy-five percent of my apparatuses,” I joked sternly. “I’m going to need to know about all the ins and outs of this vampire stuff if I want to keep my collection intact.”
He spun and refilled my glass. “I’ve already placed a replacement order online. Should be arriving by this afternoon,” he said perfunctorily. Always timely and practical, this one. “And I’ll tell you everything you need to know about my kind. Just . . . not all at once, if you don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” I spoke quietly. And meant it. “Sit with me?” I asked.
He pulled the last steaming waffle from the iron and brought it to me smoothly. “Of course,” he said, pulling out the maple syrup and butter before sitting. Still naked.
“So, give me the SparkNotes version of how to date a vampire.”
He grunted. “Just don’t run for the hills.”
“So, is otherworldly stamina part of your vampire repertoire of tricks?” I asked after swallowing a bite of blueberry-studded heaven.
William laughed, and I smiled at the sound. Otherworldly indeed—how did I ever question it? He could never pass for an ordinary human.
“Yes, Mistress, and I’m going to have to compliment you for keeping up with me. Clearly you go to the gym, or run marathons or something,” he said with a grin.
“Oh sure. I’ve run triathlons, climbed Everest in my skivvies, and am able to fuck vampires for hours on end. That’s how I roll.”
“Maybe we could do a mountain-climbing scene, if that’s how you’ll be dressed. I’m sure all the ropes associated with hiking gear would certainly be advantageous.”
“So, how is it you’re able to come to my house during the day? Sunlight and all?”
He scratched his neck. “It doesn’t kill us—we’re allergic to it.”
“Allergic?”
He pointed to where he had scratched. “If we’re in the sun too long, it gives us a rash. It’s like eczema.”
I buried my face in my hands. “That’s the nerdiest thing I have ever heard.”
He shrugged. “It’s not very cool, but it’s better than being lit on fire every time I leave the house. In fact, pretty much ninety-nine percent of vampire myths aren’t true. We’re just very durable blood drinkers, not magical bat-people, although we do have enhanced sensory abilities.”
“What’s going to happen when I have my . . . visitor?” I asked, cringing.
He paused. “You have regular houseguests?”
“My period.”
William laughed. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing you only get it four times a year.”
“Seasonique, the preferred birth control choice of vampires and their lovers.”
He covered his face with his hands and stifled a laugh. “Any more questions?”
“Is Harvey a vampire? Is that how he makes such wonderful clothes—he just taps into his vampire skill set?”
William shook his head. “No, he’s a human. My niece and her husband are vampires, but we have human friends,” he explained.
“Does Harvey know you’re a vampire?”
“Yes—in fact, the nature of our relationship revolves around it,” William said, slightly cowed. “He donates blood to us in hopes we’ll change him at some point.”
Shit was starting to get real.
“Um, how does that work?”
He waved his hands. “I really don’t want to scare you anymore. Please understand, young American vampires are very progressive in their beliefs. We don’t want to live in a world where we’re predators—we want symbiosis. I’ll tell you about our lifestyle in time. Just know that Harvey is a great guy, a killer designer, and helps keep me alive.”
I nodded, mouth full. “Okay.” Who was I to question whatever supernatural forces gave me this unnatural gift—I didn’t care if he’s from heaven or hell.
“So you’re . . . okay with this?” William asked, gesturing between us. He also looked worriedly at the small nick on my chest, visible only due to my navy La Perla bathrobe slightly slipping downward.
“I was actually disappointed you didn’t have little fangs that popped out,” I joked, swirling my last piece of waffle in the syrup and butter sauce. “Do you have fangs?”
He opened his mouth and showed me his teeth. “Not really, since we all file them down nowadays. Plus, you made the cut yourself,” he said with a shrug. “I have to warn you, Mistress; that was very risky. I wasn’t just saying those things in the heat of the moment—you were truly in danger. Most people who donate to us have been trained in how to behave while we’re feeding,” he said, looking me sincerely in the eyes. I nodded for no real reason—I didn’t kno
w if it meant I understood, or I wouldn’t tempt him again. He continued, and gave me a peck on the lips. “Despite the danger, however, it was probably one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Thank you for trusting me.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” I said, and pulled him close. I gave his stomach a few kisses as he stood by my side and stroked my hair.
“Speaking of trust,” he purred coyly, “tell me something.”
I nodded into his embrace. “Sure.”
“What’s in that little recipe box you’re always fussing over?”
I sat up. “Nothing.”
He pouted. “Trust me. I’m just curious.”
“Another time.”
Suddenly, William cleared my plate and gestured to the clock. “What time do you leave for school?”
Shit. “I have a class first period, so I should probably hop in the shower and head out soon,” I groaned.
He looked crestfallen for a moment, but then perked up. “Mistress, my speed could allow for a shorter shower. I’m sure I could do a fast and thorough shampoo job if you’d allow me to accompany you,” he said, again trying to hide his impending smirk.
“A fast and thorough shampoo job, eh?” I asked. “That sounds dirty.” Bizzy chuckled maniacally.
He shook his head. “I assure you, you’ll be quite clean,” he said stoically.
Apparently vampires don’t always catch sarcasm or innuendoes. Oh well, off to the showers. William better not drop the soap . . . Then again, nothing can go “there,” so no use bringing any of my waterproof toys.
“Why do you keep touching your head like that? Does the nurse need to check you for lice?” Deirdre asked. That woman genuinely had no fucking filter.
“No, it’s just tingly,” I said, remembering the vigorous how-do-you-do William gave to my scalp hours earlier. I realized I just came up with a nickname for him—Thoroughbred. Hung like a horse, and thorough as fuck.
Nah, Chilly Willy’s better. My Chilly Willy. Mmmmmmm.
“Are you sure you’re not sick or something? Your eyes just completely glazed over, and a tingly scalp sounds suspicious. Do you use prescription-strength dandruff shampoo or something?”