How to Discipline Your Vampire

by Mina Vaughn

  He sighed and turned away from me. “Leos often hide their feelings. Isn’t that right, my little lioness?”

  “Oh, so now I’m a lioness? Wanna see my claws?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “No, but I quite like your mane.”

  “Rawr.”

  “Down, girl.”

  “Too bad lion tamers use chairs and whips, and not lionesses.”

  He gave my forehead a small kiss. “Speaking of, may I take the liberty of setting up today’s scene?”

  My muscles relaxed, remembering what day it was. It felt like the weekend, but it was really Thursday. The teachers had a professional day, but substitutes didn’t have to go.

  “Go ahead,” I said, slightly more glum than I expected. I realized I was disappointed that I didn’t have to go into school today. I sort of wanted to know what workshops they did.

  Suddenly a full-time position didn’t seem so terrible. I shrugged it off and watched some TV while William set up.

  He knocked on the door to indicate he was ready for me to get changed. In the bathroom hung one of my school outfits. I prayed he wasn’t doing a student scene.

  I was quite relieved, however, to find my bedroom turned into an office, complete with a cubicle and stacks of incorrect TPS reports, like from the movie Office Space. I laughed and was relieved that William at least had some taste in comedies.

  “Are you done with those reports yet?” I asked, rifling through the papers. “You interns never get anything done on time.”

  William pushed his glasses up his nose and acted flustered. “Ma’am, I’m swamped. Could you possibly get your assistant to take the load off? At this rate, I’ll be here all night.” He looked so stinking cute in a shirt and tie.

  I leaned over his desk and looked at him sternly. “Then you’ll stay all night.”

  He raked his long, cool fingers through his messy hair and yanked. “You can’t expect me to work all night! I’m not a machine,” he complained.

  “I bet you are a machine,” I purred, and popped a button open on my blouse. He tried not to look down.

  His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Ma’am, is there anything I can do to get out of this workload?” he asked, finally allowing himself a good peek at my décolletage.

  I let my hair out of the ribbon that had been restraining it all day. “I think you could do a few things for me, and if you do them well, I’ll let you go home early. With a raise,” I said, and flicked my eyebrows up.

  “What do you have in mind?” he asked, sitting back in his chair, clearly aroused. Someone William’s size would have a hard time hiding that.

  I pushed his chair away, allowing room for me to sit on his desk and spread my legs. “I want you to use your mouth to pleasure me,” I said, snatching his tie in my fingers and yanking him forward.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said shyly, yet making no move toward me.

  He was playing coy.

  I was wearing his favorite pair of tie-on-the-side panties, and I grabbed his hands and wrapped his fingers around the ribbons, watching him unravel the tiny pink bows.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  I pushed my skirt up to my hips, and leaned back. “Do your job.”

  He spread my legs farther apart, and I watched the straitlaced intern boy work my body with his tongue and lips.

  He pulled away from my thighs for a moment with a satisfied smile on his face. He simply couldn’t hide how much he enjoyed it. And by the way my chest was heaving and my legs were shaking, I didn’t think I could hide it, either.

  “Back to work,” I barked, and he complied happily.

  “I think I’ll excuse you from these reports,” I said to him after I finished . . . again, “but I think you’ll definitely have to work all night. Unzip.” I pointed to his pants, which were promptly thrown across the room. He loosened his tie, and undid the buttons on his shirt.

  “No, no,” I said, and he froze. “Keep the shirt buttoned and the tie on.”

  I slipped off the desk, and leaned over it, facing away from him. My elbows were down on the stack of papers, and I was ready for William to take me from behind again.

  “You’re still working for me like this, intern,” I encouraged. “Now, go rig the mirror so I can watch, and then get behind me. I’ll give you more inst—” I was about to say instructions, but by then William had already moved the mirror and was back behind me, pressing himself against me suggestively. I moaned.

  “As I was saying,” I said, nearly begging for it at this point, “you’re still serving your boss. Here are the rules: You’ll keep your hands on top of your head, as though you’re tied up, and you’ll give it to me hard and fast. Are we clear, young man?” I asked.

  As an answer, he jammed himself into me forcefully. Like I asked. I couldn’t hold back my primal grunt, and he knew he had done it right. I looked in the mirror in front of us, and watched and felt the scene unfold. There I was, shirt unbuttoned and breasts bouncing nearly out of my pink, lacy bra. He was behind me, fingers intertwined and placed atop his head. I loved getting to watch his face as he serviced me. And when he smiled, it was never smug, just grateful. It was like I was the secret ingredient to his beauty—he was a gorgeous man, but when he was inside me, his expressions displayed perfection beyond my imagination.

  “Talk to me,” I begged. Sometimes all I needed to be pushed over the edge (for the hundredth time) was to hear his voice, or listen to his thoughts.

  “I’m thinking about how hard it is keeping my hands on my head, ma’am,” he said gruffly.

  I pushed back against him, lowering my torso and changing our angle pleasantly. “And why is that?” I asked.

  “Because,” he grunted softly, “all I want to do is grab your hips, Cerise.”

  “Fuck, William,” I said after a few moments of just grasping at each other after he pulled out. “End of scene—damn, that was good.”

  Thank God I didn’t chicken out once I learned he was a vampire. Now that he was comfortable with our arrangement, William loved showing off what he could do with his speed and dexterity.

  No man on earth could do what William could do with his tongue. Or fingers. Or pelvis.

  They say once you go black, you never go back. Well, honey, once you go vamp, you become a fucking tramp.

  Sexually, I couldn’t get enough of him—all of him. The thought of a warm, soft human tongue worshipping Bizzy did absolutely nothing for me now. Oral sex should be cool and lightning fast. I loved the way his hands gripped my hips as he made me come over and over, sometimes by teasing, other times by sheer force.

  I rearranged my hair and straightened my rumpled clothing. I took a seat in the office chair as he put my room back in order. “How do you always know just what to say?”

  “I say what I feel,” he said. “And obviously, it resonates with what you feel.”

  Ehhhhh, he was talking about feelings again. That weird squishy sensation started to come back, and I had a hankering to listen to country music and bake cookies. What the hell was happening to me?

  I shrugged, shook it off, and unceremoniously left the room to shower while he made dinner.

  Tonight he was making seafood risotto.

  I hated feeling so conflicted—so satisfied and yet frightened. I liked predictability—hell, I was a math major. If I wanted ambiguity, I’d major in English.

  As I stepped out, I noticed a different towel from the one I had brought in. I picked it up and exhaled loudly. It was warm. William had warmed a towel for me while I showered.

  I want more Chilly Willy, Bizzy exclaimed, and I wondered if she ever got tired. I was exhausted—mentally, physically. I just wanted to eat my exquisite gourmet meal and go to sleep.

  William understood. “Ah, human needs. Food and sleep,” he teas
ed. “How I miss hunger and exhaustion.” He tucked me in softly and planted a kiss on my forehead.

  “Why not my lips?” I asked, nodding off.

  “Seafood risotto breath,” he joked, kissing my mouth playfully.

  “I’ll be dreaming of that kiss,” I said.

  “I hope so. There’s more to come whenever you wake.”

  Apparently my subconscious had other plans. I woke up the next morning shivering and sobbing. William stroked my hair and didn’t ask about it, he just mentioned how he wanted me to meet his family and friends. Maybe he didn’t ask about my nightmare because he was afraid of what he’d hear.

  He should be.

  I couldn’t shake the dream, or the memory that surfaced inside it.

  “So, maybe the mall?” Katie asked. I had just gotten out of French class and was headed to lunch.

  I looked at the ridiculously popular girl in front of me questioningly. Why the hell was she asking me to go to the mall? I looked down at the 89 on my test and tried to formulate a response.

  “I’m not a huge shopper,” I explained truthfully. Just because she was popular didn’t mean I had to pander to her.

  She looked troubled. “How about a sleepover, then?”

  My eyes bulged. “I don’t even know you,” I said, and crossed my arms. This didn’t smell right. “You’ve never said a word to me before today. What do you want, answers on the math test or something?”

  She shrugged. “Relax, okay? Look, you’re with Nick and so now you’re in our circle of friends. I’d like to get to know you. Maybe come over your house or something. All he does is talk about how cool you are, and how much we’d like you if we got to know you.”

  It seemed honest enough. Nick was very social, and even though we had only been going out for a few days, I felt the need to please him. If they were on my turf, if worse came to worst, there was a limit to how much they could do to me.

  “Maybe, I guess. I don’t think we have a whole lot in common,” I answered honestly. She was an athlete and I was a klutz. Her family was wealthy and mine was middle class.

  Just then, two more girls I didn’t know joined the conversation. “Hey, Katie, hey, Cerise,” Janine said cheerfully.

  The last thing I wanted was for Nick to be mad, or to have an awkward moment, so I agreed to have the girls over to my house to watch a movie.

  “Should we bring something to drink?” Janine asked, winking at Katie.

  “I have Coke,” I answered.

  “Sweet,” Katie said greedily, “I haven’t had a bump in weeks.”

  Janine slapped her hand on Katie’s shoulder. “She meant Coke as in cola . . .”

  “Lame. Whatever. See you at eight.”

  I never noticed my diary went missing until it was too late.

  So yeah, I had trust issues.

  Which was unfortunate when William decided to tell me a few stories from the nursing home this morning before work.

  He sure got chatty when he was talking about his old people. Sometimes it was hard for me to listen because I pictured him as an old person because technically, he was.

  “Harry started a group with some of the other war vets. I think it’s really good for them. Some of the guys never really talk to anyone other than their family and the nurses. Swapping battle stories around the card table is like therapy for them now.”

  “What about you? Is there part of you that wants something like that? Vampire group therapy?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  I sighed. “Because I think you need more than just your family and your old people. It can’t be easy hiding your nature from ninety-nine percent of the people you meet. I mean, I know Breanna and Steven are close to you, but you must want more friends that are vampires.”

  “Harvey’s a friend, and Claude to some extent. Plus, I have you.”

  “I’m not a vampire.”

  “Doesn’t matter—you know what I am, and you’re accepting of it. I told Viola about you,” he said sheepishly as he finished grilling the English muffin for my breakfast sandwich.

  “Are you telling dirty stories to your old people?” I asked incredulously. “You realize you could give them a heart attack.”

  He laughed. “Of course. It helps them get limbered up before their fitness classes.”

  “No, I mean it,” I continued. “Picture sweet little Viola listening to you go on and on about how you like to be tied up and spanked. How tomorrow you’ll be role-playing as a crooked cop. Could you imagine what her nearly dried-up hormones would be going through? It’s just wrong.”

  He stroked my hair. “Viola had mentioned that I looked different. Happy,” he said with pride. “And I told her it was because of a girl.”

  I felt slightly nauseous at this revelation. “Aww,” was all I could manage for a response.

  “I told her I had the most beautiful, intense girlfriend in the world,” he said, assembling the sandwich. “And that I had fallen in love with her.”

  I gulped down the orange juice and wrapped breakfast in a napkin. “That’s nice.”

  I snatched my keys and headed out the door to work.

  “I think I might need some time alone this weekend,” I said. “Maybe you should hang with your fam.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  William

  Yesterday was one of the strangest days of my long life.

  She has been acting strangely standoffish lately, and when she told me she needed the weekend to herself, the truth hit me hard.

  Cerise was thinking about leaving me.

  I could see it in her eyes every time we parted—she knew soon it would be for the last time. I feared she wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship, especially from what she had told me about her past . . . which was nothing.

  I knew about her likes and dislikes, I knew about her sexual preferences, but as for the real details, I was ignorant. I didn’t know about her family. I’d only met one of her friends, and she had never told me anything about previous relationships.

  But I did know this: I could fix it. She had given me confidence that I was worthy and that I was good at what I did. So, I must win her back.

  Tonight.

  Most women seriously read into things that may or may not be there. A song coming on the radio at a certain time. The name of a new martini at her favorite bar. And, even though Cerise would scoff at it, a line in a horoscope that just had to be true.

  So I grabbed a few items around town, and headed to Cerise’s to do what the kids call a ding-dong ditch.

  I quietly strode to her door, hung the dress on the knob, and tacked two things next to the hanger. On a book of matches from Gypsy, a chic bar in town, I wrote SEVEN PM. Underneath, I placed a Leo horoscope that read, among other things, “You will meet a handsome stranger,” and highlighted that line.

  Then I rang the bell and hid behind the bushes, waiting for my little lioness to appear.

  She came to the door in a baggy tee shirt and yoga pants. Her hair hadn’t been brushed, and her eyes looked tired. Something was clearly bothering her. I feared it was my confession: I loved her.

  Her beautiful face, however, brightened as she looked at the dress and the notes. She didn’t break into a complete smile, mind you, but I could see that my little surprise had intrigued her. She ran her fingers down the cotton dress, and I caught her looking around for my car. I had run here, of course, so as to be inconspicuous.

  The effort I usually put into a scene showed just how much I was committed to pleasing Cerise. I selected the décor and props with care, and I picked out the costumes with equal attention to detail. I wanted her to be consumed by my vision and flattered by my attention.

  Tonight, however, I couldn’t redecorate the bar, and I couldn’t come up with precontrived notions of what was going to happen. All I knew
was that I had to be a handsome stranger and try my best to “pick her up.”

  So I took care with my appearance, since it was the only thing I could control. Instead of leaving my hair in its usual state of trendy “flow,” I combed it back in a sophisticated manner. I wore a polished, gunmetal gray suit and monochromatic tie. Tonight I’d play the part of a businessman away at a conference. I printed up some phony business cards, and I programmed my BlackBerry with some stock apps to check when Cerise was seemingly not looking. I usually never wore cologne, but this evening I walked by the perfume counter at the local Neiman Marcus and sprayed myself with some Burberry Brit. I looked in the mirror and smiled.

  I could do this.

  Cerise was the only thing that mattered to me, and I was going to fight to keep her. Not because I couldn’t live without her, but because I deserved to live with her.

  I deserved this. I’d earned some happiness.

  This was my mantra during the painfully slow traffic in Portsmouth. My nerves were threatening to get the better of me, but I shook them off and told myself this was best for both of us. She just needed me to show her.

  Tonight I took my Corvette, and was glad when the valet parked it right out front. I hoped to be able to chauffeur Cerise to the “hotel where I was staying.” She had seen only my SUV until now, and I presumed she’d enjoy my sports car’s flashy looks. After all, I was a successful businessman.

  I didn’t want to see Cerise yet. I wanted her to see me first. I strode to the bar with confidence, and ordered a single-malt Scotch on the rocks. I stretched out, checked my stocks, and nearly snickered at how uncharacteristic I was acting, and took a sip of the drink the bartender poured for me.

  I didn’t know how people drank this stuff. It tasted like paint thinner.

  I took another sip of Scotch, and then my eyes caught sight of her.

  God, she was stunning.

  Cerise was wearing Harvey’s black minidress—emphasis on the mini—and a pair of strappy sandals that crisscrossed up her shapely legs. Her long blond hair rippled down her back in cascading curls with a shock of red here and there, and her face was adorned with the tiniest bit of blush and mascara, although she didn’t need a drop of it.