How to Discipline Your Vampire

by Mina Vaughn

  Why are you the most socially stunted human I’ve ever met? “I’m fine. Now if you’re done nuking your SpaghettiOs, I’d like to heat my lunch,” I replied. Deirdre pulled her disgusting meal out of the microwave and sat with some teachers who didn’t like her while she peppered them with inappropriate questions.

  “That’s quite a nice-looking muffin you’ve got there,” said the oil slick of a voice to my right.

  Uggggh, Gunderson was back. Wait—you know what, I didn’t care. Today I woke up to a nude wafflefest and I should be nice to this poor guy.

  He adjusted his hairpiece and gestured at the blueberry muffin I was warming. Oh yeah, William had some extra batter and decided to improvise.

  “It’s nice to see you in the building again, Neil. When did you get back?” I asked, trying to change the subject from my muffin to . . . anything else.

  He scratched behind his ear and began telling me about how despite the fact that the incision was still looking scabby, the doctor told him to go back to work.

  I fought a dry heave. “Well, take care.” I cradled my warm little muffin in my hands and scooted off to my computer.

  I checked my e-mail, and saw that William was able to grab Harvey just long enough to make us some costumes for tonight.

  Oh, while we were in the shower, I invited William to the Three’s Company social. I felt like showing him off.

  Normally, I didn’t bring my submissives to events. I usually just went to mixers alone, regardless of my relationship status. Brent used to beg me to take him, desperately wanting people to see us together. I told him that sounded too much like a real date to me, and he’d shut his yap.

  We only went on one pseudodate once, and it ended with my asshole father calling Brent a real “pussy.” My grandmother was insistent that I bring a date—a male date—to my cousin’s wedding. She had been telling her friends that her granddaughter “knew the love that dare not speak its name.” She found my demeanor particularly unladylike, probably because my mother had been banished years ago by my father’s rigidity and therefore I didn’t have a female role model. So, to prove my raging heterosexuality, I brought Brent to meet the fam. It was a disaster. He never knew how to let down the sub role in front of my dad. Now, ever since my first boyfriend—or “the incident,” as he liked to call it—my father had never met a man he liked for me. With good reason. And he had passed away just after Christmas, so he’d never be able to criticize anyone else I brought home. I shook off the uncomfortable feelings and refocused my mind on what made me happy: William.

  Last night showed me a lot about William. Like the fact that he was made for me. Yeah, he was probably born before my great-great-grandparents, and his primary food source was still alive when he ate, but who was I to judge? The man was a freaking miracle. Everything I could ever want. Why shouldn’t I take him and show him to the world?

  And honestly, as strange as this was to say, I didn’t think I lost any ground with him as my sub. Regardless of my gushing right now, I was still as firm as ever with him. I even made him loofah my heels in the shower. And he loved it. As he should.

  I HOPE YOU LIKE PAISLEY. My phone buzzed and displayed William’s text.

  AS LONG AS YOU’RE MY MAIN ACCESSORY, I KNOW WE’LL TURN SOME HEADS, I wrote back.

  WITHOUT A DOUBT. ALTHOUGH, I HAVE TO ADMIT, HARVEY CRAFTED ME SOME VERY TIGHT PANTS. I’M A LITTLE CONCERNED.

  I needed to meet this man. And sing “Wind Beneath My Wings” to him. Harvey the blood donor was my new hero.

  “So, we’ll add feathering my hair to the list of things you’re supremely good at,” I said to William, or should I call him Vamp-dal Sassoon, who was holding the hot curling iron to the last straight strand of hair.

  He shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. “Don’t forget, I lived through the seventies.”

  And as his eyes lowered, I realized he was admiring Harvey’s handiwork as well. On my daisy dukes.

  “Did they really wear shorts this skimpy back then?” I spun around to give him a better view.

  “I swear, I would have enjoyed the seventies if you were around then, disco and all,” he said affectionately.

  “So, do you really own nursing homes, or is that a front for shady vampire business?” I asked.

  “No, I really own them.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Because, I originally opened one to take care of my biological parents when they became too old to care for themselves. Their other child—my brother—died in his early thirties, so there was nobody to look after them. I never revealed myself to them, of course, since I was ashamed of my nature, but they graciously accepted spots in the first home of my franchise.”

  “Are they . . . gone?”

  William nodded. “Yes, they passed. I came to love the job of elder care, however. Had I not changed into a vampire, I would be in my eighties. So the folks at the home are really my contemporaries. We talk for hours—well, they talk and I listen and nod and smile. And enjoy the nostalgia.”

  “That’s intense. So you’re not, like, five hundred years old, then, I suppose. Lame.”

  “No, but my vampire parents are quite old. They lived through the Renaissance, and so when they raised me, they instilled me with the philosophy of art and aesthetics. They are the reason why I paint, sculpt, and compose,” he explained, then his expression darkened. “They also made me a monster.”

  “You are not a monster,” I said, running my fingers across his palm.

  “Just don’t offer me your blood again.”

  “You did great.”

  He recoiled. “Mistress, I’ve made mistakes before. I’ve slipped up.”

  I stroked his hair. “You won’t let down your Domme.”

  He gulped. “One Domme closed her eyes, leaned in to kiss me, and never opened her eyes again.”

  I fought the urge to gasp. “I’m sorry.”

  “She had the tiniest cut in her mouth,” he choked. “I—”

  “Shh. I know you won’t hurt me.”

  “I just don’t want to scare you away. I want you to keep me.”

  “William, things are going well, but let’s not rush anything. I’m starting to understand you, and our relationship is moving forward. Actually, startlingly forward,” I said, somewhat surprised at my own words. I didn’t want to hear more about the woman, the girl whom he had killed with a kiss. It hurt him too much. I wanted to help him heal. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and don’t worry about the future,” I encouraged him, and he smiled. It was so nice to see the effect I had on him. He hung on my every word and gesture. Other subs were attentive, but William—William was obsessed.

  And that was part of the reason why I wanted to bring him out that night. I wanted to show everyone who had ever rejected him, and everyone who couldn’t live up to my expectations, that we were happy and better off without them. We were enjoying each other, and we looked fucking hot together. Nyah-nyah.

  “Your hair kind of defies gravity right now,” I said, pointing out how his coif was now in a winged-out do. He looked like a seventies Ken doll. Paisley shirt, tight-ass mustard-colored bell-bottoms, and platforms to boot. He had to be six-five in them. He touched his hair and did a little Travolta move.

  “One more thing to add to your look,” I said, taking him by the chin and pulling his face toward mine. I took a brown leather collar from my purse and clasped it around his neck. He sighed happily.

  I held his face in my hands for another second, looking into his eyes, before whispering, “I’ll put the leash on once we get there.”

  He moaned softly, and I kissed him gently on the lips. “Thank you, Mistress Cherry,” he said, voice quivering with servitude. I imagine he had dreamed about this day for a long time.

  I stroked his jaw with the back of my hand. “Would you like to wear this more often?” I aske
d. Some submissives loved collars, others felt it was an unnecessary gesture.

  “I will never take it off,” he said passionately.

  “No,” I explained. “There are still some times when I’d like you to be more at ease. Maybe you can take it off after scenes?” I asked, negotiating.

  William’s face moved closer to mine by a fraction. “Mistress. I do not eat, and I do not sleep. I only ever want to serve. If wearing this collar is a symbol of my subservience to you, I want to wear it always.” I placed another soft kiss on the corner of his mouth at his sweet words.

  My head cocked to the side slightly as I thought. “I have another idea. This collar is pretty . . . obvious. How about you wear it tonight, and I’ll give you something soon that’s a little more inconspicuous, but means the same symbolically?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Are you ready to wow them?” I asked.

  As an answer, he did a Saturday Night Fever split, right on the floor. Bizzy cheered, and I was worried someone may hear her later at the party due to the absurd nature of my short shorts.

  “The woman with the brown hair and shirtless submissive is giving you dirty looks,” William whispered in my ear. “I want to hurt her,” he said, and I squeezed his butt a little tighter.

  I loved being with a vampire.

  Erin was petting Brent’s hair as he kneeled at her side. He was busy keeping his head down while she socialized. He was picking at a pot brownie. They didn’t really look that seventies—they just looked like they shopped at the Salvation Army. Mismatched blouse and ugly-even-for-that-decade skirt, paired with clunky shoes that were clearly two sizes too big. Ugh.

  “Erin,” I said smoothly, and confident that my ass and submissive were the hottest things in the room, “I’d like for you to meet William.”

  She looked up from her drink, nodded at me, and appraised William. He coughed, clearly unable to keep in his amusement at her expression. “Hello,” she said, suppressing her obvious attraction and shock. “Ah, William, this is Brent,” she said, looking down in disappointment. When Brent didn’t look up, she smacked him on the head and he let out a yelp.

  Finally, Brent looked up at us and sneered wordlessly.

  I attempted making small talk with Erin, and avoided Brent. William politely chimed in here and there. I made sure to pepper the conversation with the words we and us as much as I could. She needed a clear message about how happy I was, so that next time we met, she’d shut her fucking mouth.

  “There’s a paddling demonstration going on upstairs,” she said, nearly shouting over the disco music. “The guy is selling them. Want to test out some of his toys?”

  I realized that paddling William in front of anyone was going to cause quite a stir, so I made up a little fib. “William woke up a little sore today,” I said, rubbing his left cheek a bit. “We had a long night last night,” I said, pawing at him a little more. I needed him—soon.

  “I think it was technically morning, Mistress,” he said, jokingly. Erin looked like she was going to swallow her tongue, and Brent chose this moment to finally speak.

  “He stayed over?” he asked simply. Erin scolded him for joining the conversation so rudely.

  I smiled at him. “Of course,” I said, and William fed me an appetizer from the passed hors d’oeuvres.

  They excused themselves promptly.

  I noticed that at this point in the party some of the guests were in various stages of undress. Breasts here, asses there. It was starting to heat up, which was good, because I didn’t think Bizzy was going to last another minute being strangled by my shorts.

  The party was being held in a brand-new condo complex. Apparently, when the place started advertising condos for sale, a lot of people in the BDSM community decided to buy up units all together. Great idea for parties, I must say. The event stretched between a few joining units, with the crowd flowing from one room to the next. I grabbed William’s hand and started to follow the less dressed crowd.

  We ended up in a playroom, and it was decked out with a disco ball. The light reflected nicely off the chains on the wall. This kind condo owner was nice enough to allow full use of his toys and room, and despite the copious amounts of antibacterial wipes and gel, it was quite a fun atmosphere.

  The room was filled with the sounds of disco and pleasure. “Are you okay with this, William?” I asked. I saw on his checklist that public displays of submission and nudity were not hard limits, but I wanted to check anyway. He was still very new . . . despite being very old. He nodded, eyes alight. I smiled.

  I pulled him down to a beanbag chair in a darkened part of the room, and started making out with him. The ambiance was very much like a high school party, and it just felt right. I knew some eyes were on us, and that only fueled my attraction. The way he looked in the multicolored strobe lights, the way his body moved to the music and yet didn’t dance . . . everything about him drew attention. And I wanted to soak in his desirability for myself. I used the leash to pull him closer to me.

  My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his broad-collared shirt. He leaned back in the chair, and watched me remove his clothing. His eyes begged to show off, to make me proud, and I nodded at him. In an instant, he had turned his shirt into some sort of rope contraption, and bound his own arms behind him. I saw a Domme in the corner actually lick her lips.

  “Good boy,” I told him, and ran my hands down his chest. He threw his head back, loving my touch as much as the thrill of exhibitionism.

  There was sex going on in that room, for sure, but much of what was happening was discreet. I noticed that beneath our beanbag chair was a neatly folded, clean blanket. A couple settled down next to us, staring obviously. I loved it.

  I used the leash to once again pull him to me. His moves were graceful, even when he was bound. “I am going to fuck you right here,” I said in his ear. I pulled the riding crop from the wall behind us, and told him I’d be setting the pace with it.

  And then he did something strange. He whispered that he wanted the blanket to cover me. He didn’t mind anyone seeing him, but he didn’t want anyone seeing me.

  That was not a very submissive-type statement, and it took me a minute to shake off the feeling it gave me. The feeling wasn’t bad, in fact, I liked the sentiment behind it.

  And that shocked me. William was claiming me, and yet he was collared and leashed and bound beneath me.

  And yet I let him have what he wanted.

  I pulled him free from his absurdly restricting pants, and even some of the men were staring. That’s right, I thought as my fingers wrapped around him, all this is mine. Luckily, the daisy dukes Harvey made me were surprisingly stretchy, so I draped the blanket discreetly, pushed the shorts aside, and pulled William toward me. I let him penetrate me unseen.

  Once we were situated and the blanket was strategically adjusted, I got to work. At that moment, I do believe that every Domme and Dom at that party wanted to be me. William had captured everyone’s attention. His body looked so gorgeous beneath me, and his sinuous movements simply screamed submission. I used the crop gently at first, teasing him, and then faster and more insistently.

  “You were an innocent virgin when I first fucked you . . . only a week ago,” I panted in his ear. He grunted loudly. “Now we’re having sex in public. You’re a filthy, dirty, perverted vampire.”

  I cracked the crop against William’s hip even harder. I had to have him exactly how I wanted him, and that need grew more desperate by the second. I wanted to tear my shirt off and shove my breasts in his mouth, but I remembered that I was his as much as he was mine, and he didn’t want my body on display.

  That thought, along with the throbbing and pounding cold between my legs, made me come explosively. There were a few times where I had some fun in front of others at play parties, but never actual intercourse. I had always thought that my fi
rst foray into public sex would have my attention spread between the people watching and the person I was fucking, but there was only William. There was only that angel’s face, and that gracefully muscular body under me, and the sounds of pleasure coming from lips that only an artist could create. And when he whispered, “Mistress, I’m yours,” while coming deep inside me, it was for my ears only.

  We left shortly after. I wanted to be alone with him. The car ride home consisted of hands groping bodies and stealing kisses at red lights.

  “I’ve never been so happy to be me,” he laughed.

  I rubbed his leg. “Mmmmm,” I said, “I was the envy of every man and woman in that room,” I purred. “You were spectacular.”

  He stopped his stroking and looked at me strangely. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’ve never been so happy to be me, because I was the envy of everyone at that party. You”—he nearly stuttered—“you captivated everyone. And, when we were . . . together . . .” He paused a moment and collected himself. “When we were together, the way people looked at us—I could see that watching our interaction was the most erotic and gorgeous thing many of them had ever seen. I have never been so happy,” he continued, “to make people jealous.”

  I discreetly filled out a note card I had packed in my purse. I pretended to be fidgeting with my phone, but William called me out.

  “Is that going in your recipe box?” he asked.

  I sunk down into the seat, defeated. “Busted.”

  He laughed and stroked my hair. “I’d like to see it.”

  “How about we just make some memories I can file away?” I asked, palming his crotch as we pulled into my driveway.

  “I think you need a special box for me,” he said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you’ve never had a vampire boyfriend before.”

  I grunted at his attempt to reignite the conversation we had earlier about where the relationship was going. “Correction, I’ve never had a vampire submissive before.”