His Captive Mortal

by Renee Rose

  “Beautiful.” He turned her back around and pulled her mouth down to take her lips in a bruising kiss.

  Her face flushed a healthy pink, eyes glassy and wild.

  “You could not possibly please me more,” he praised. He knew she wanted release, but he intended to drag out her sexual frustration. “Now, I want you to make me dinner...” he patted her ass and twiddled the plug between her cheeks, “...dressed like that.”

  She moaned in protest and he gave the plug a shove, causing her to gasp and her eyes to pop.

  Grasping her nipples, he tugged her down until she had bent at the waist and her face was level with his. “The proper answer is Yes, master.”

  She started to roll her eyes, but he shoved the plug in again and she fell against him, catching herself on his shoulders with her hands.

  “Yes, master,” he prompted.

  “Yes, master.”

  He gave her a wide smile and stood. “Come on, slave,” he said, patting her bottom and leading her to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and found she had already made a salad. “Little fairy, you were such a good girl,” he exclaimed. “You will be rewarded for this.”

  “I get to see your place, now, right?” she reminded him.

  He smiled. “Yes. I’m going to spread you out on my bed and fuck you all night until you scream for mercy.”

  A flicker of fear crossed her face, so he winked. He saw sadness in her expression and realized she was thinking about the curse.

  “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I’ve been fucking without satisfaction for one hundred years. It hasn’t stopped me yet.”

  She gave him a wistful smile.

  Her caring lanced his chest. What had he done to deserve such sympathy?

  “Set the table, Sasha,” he directed, pulling out a few chicken breasts and placing them in a baking dish with pesto spread on top and slices of lemon beneath. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sasha, looking more erotic than anything he’d ever seen as she took small, shuffling steps, the heel of the plug shining between her cheeks.

  “Come here,” he said, when he’d put the chicken in the oven to broil.

  She came immediately.

  He sat in a chair and pulled her onto his knee, keeping one hand on the plug so he could manipulate it within her. “Have you studied today?”

  “Not the books, but I practiced at work.”

  He squeezed her breast, pushing it up until the nipple crested the top of the corset and peeped out. He drew it into his mouth and sucked, pushing the plug in and out of her at the same time.

  She moaned, a desperate, wanton sound.

  “Not yet, little one,” he murmured.

  “You’re killing me,” she complained.

  “Good,” he said, with satisfaction. “Now show me what you learned today.”

  She sat back and looked at him with a critical eye. “You don’t have one.”

  “What?”

  “An aura. I was messing with people’s energetic fields today. Cleaning them up, that sort of thing. I think I may have learned how a curse works.”

  He stopped teasing her nipple, looking up with interest. “How?”

  “Well, I saw two girls arguing and one of them sent a dagger-like shape of energy at the other one. It lodged right in her heart and stayed there, and the victim cried for a long time, actually rubbing the spot where I saw the invisible dagger go in. I don’t think this other child meant to cause her any harm, but I’m thinking someone like Anka, who understood how energy works, intentionally sends it in what we think of as a curse.”

  He lifted her to stand and looked down at his lap. “Do you see any daggers? Or...I don’t know, corks?”

  She gazed in the direction of his cock for a long time. “Well, I’ve never looked at the energy of a cock before. But yeah, I think I do see something.”

  She knelt before him and pulled his cock out of his boxers, gripping the base and holding her fingers like pincers at the tip. Sasha made a pulling motion, as if trying to pull out a thread or sliver and repeated it several times.

  A sharp pain stabbed through his cock near in the direction of the head.

  “I can’t budge it,” she said, looking up at him grimly. “Maybe you have to do it. Or you have to sever your bond to her first or something.”

  He snarled and stood up, shoving his cock back in his boxers and stalking to the bedroom to get dressed.

  Sasha stood in the doorway looking uncertain. “Should I get dressed, too?’

  A pang contracted in his unbeating heart. It was odd to consider anyone’s feelings but his own, but seeing how he’d affected Sasha pulled him out of his snit. He closed his eyes and exhaled. “No,” he said, trying to recover the mood. “I need my slave girl ready and accessible to me at all times. And I will require you to attempt to extract the curse with your mouth and tongue later, as well.”

  She smiled, but her gaze still appeared worried.

  “Come here,” he said, opening his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice.

  The oven timer went off, saving him from trying to express any of the odd feelings banging around in his chest. He patted her delectable bottom. “Let’s eat.”

  Sitting down with the plug in her ass sent rivulets of heat pulsing through her body. Discomfort, need, desire all jumbled together. Charlie served the dinner, surprising her with his modern-man ease in the kitchen and with their roles. Odd for a nineteenth century man, but she was growing used to his unpredictability.

  She wolfed down her food, eager to move on to other matters. When she laid down her fork, she saw he had already finished as well. She jumped to her feet and collected their plates, washing them in the sink as her anus contracted around the foreign object in her ass.

  “I can smell your arousal,” Charlie murmured in her ear, appearing directly behind her.

  Her pussy clenched, wanting more of his attention.

  He wrapped his arms around her from behind and her stomach dropped as a terrible whooshing sensation yanked her back. She felt every atom of her body split apart and become whole again and found they stood in totally different surroundings.

  Charlie’s bedroom looked much like the boudoir from her dream. Rich fabrics in silk and velvet draped the walls and covered the bed. The furniture appeared to be antique—great pieces of beautiful wood carved with intricate details. The colors were burgundy, red, and gold.

  “On your knees, slave,” he ordered.

  Excitement surged in her lower belly. She knelt at his feet, reaching for the button on his jeans.

  He made a censuring sound. “Did you ask permission?”

  “Please, master, may I suck your cock?”

  He smiled magnanimously. “Yes you may.”

  She opened his jeans and allowed his engorged cock to spring free. Before she could take it, he gripped it in his fist and used it to slap her face, first one side, then the other. As always with the vampire, the degradation of it raised her hackles, but then, that’s why he did it. She sensed the test in his actions and remembered how sexually satisfying surrendering to him could be. She closed her eyes and held out her tongue so his cock swiped across it as he dick-whipped her face.

  “Mmm, good slave,” he murmured, gripping the back of her head and holding her in place. “Open wider.”

  She opened her jaw and he pushed into her mouth, filling her small cavity beyond capacity, pulling out just when she thought she would gag. He moved in and out, controlling the movement, fucking her face. The vulnerability of the position did not escape her—one thrust too deep and he could cut off her airway, stuff his cock in the back of her throat and strangle her with it. Her basic survival instinct screamed at her to pull away, free herself from the humbling position, and yet for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to please him. She was learning to trust his torture always ended in reward.

  “Stand up and turn around, Sasha,” Charlie ordered, his voice thick. His hand caught under her arm to he
lp her and she remembered scoffing at the idea of him being chivalrous. She’d been wrong. He turned her around and guided her to the end of his bed, where he pushed her torso down. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

  “Yes, master,” she breathed. Every nerve ending in her pussy tingled, electrified and waiting for his touch. She groaned when he pressed the head of his cock to her opening, the mixture of soft and hard something no fingers or dildo could ever replicate.

  He slid into her tight channel, her natural lubricant so plentiful she hardly felt the stretching. Or perhaps it was the distraction of the toy in her ass. All she knew was she wanted it all and more. She wanted to be fucked hard, used, wholly taken by him.

  “Please,” she whimpered when he moved too slowly.

  He chuckled. “I set the pace, little girl. And you don’t come until I let you. Understand?”

  “Yes, master.”

  Despite his words, he did pick up the pace, stroking in and out, caressing her pussy with his cock, pushing his pelvis against the handle of the butt plug every time he plunged in.

  She trembled, her legs scarcely holding her, her need growing to a fever pitch. She lost track of her surroundings, everything shrinking to the feel of his length moving inside her, the way her very cells seemed like they would explode if she didn’t find release.

  “Oh Charlie,” she whimpered, rolling her face in the covers, biting at the luxurious fabric. “Charlie, please let me come. Please, please, please.”

  “You’re so adorable when you beg,” he said, gripping her hips and slamming into her so hard she thought she’d split in two. Over and over he thrust, pounding her inner walls as his balls slapped her clit and the plug fucked her ass.

  “Charlie?” she cried, certain she could not take one more second.

  “Now, Sasha,” he growled.

  Her orgasm exploded the second he gave her permission, just as stars splintered before her blackened vision. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through her, contracting her core, sending corresponding tremors down her inner thighs to the soles of her feet.

  She held her breath, nearly passing out from the tsunami of pleasure.

  When it released her from its grip, she panted, collapsed over his bed. She blinked to regain her vision and her bearings.

  Charlie eased the plug from her ass and lifted her into the air, placing her gently on her back. As reality returned, she saw the cords standing out in his neck, the pain in his face as he crawled over her. A pang of guilt struck for having enjoyed her release so thoroughly when he never could.

  She stroked the side of his face, but he jerked it away, impatient with her pity. He pushed his hard length between her legs and she opened for him, despite her soreness. He moved inside her, neither rough nor gentle, but with a grim determination, as if he would fuck her all night just in case the curse might dissolve.

  She brought her focus to it, imagined drawing the blockage out.

  Charlie rested on his forearms, his head hanging over her shoulder, his breath labored in her ear. He began to groan as if in pain and the muscles of his low belly jerked.

  Without warning, his fangs struck her neck. She screamed in surprise, shoving him away and convulsing beneath him. He brought a hand to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb as if to calm her, as he continued to pump his cock inside her and suckle.

  “No,” she sobbed. “Get off me. Stop it!”

  He sucked for a few more seconds, then licked her wound closed with long slow laps as if she weren’t struggling beneath him.

  The moment he released her, she scrambled to her feet, anger burning hot. “What the fuck was that?” she demanded.

  Charlie climbed off the bed as well, looking tired, his cock still waving horizontally with unspent passion. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said, sounding defeated, “but is it really that big a deal?”

  “Yes, it’s a big deal! I need my blood. I didn’t want it sucked. You knew that and you did it anyway.”

  He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Did it hurt? Are you light-headed?”

  “No, but you had no right. I didn’t want to be bit!”

  He blew out his breath, his face turning stony. He pulled on his clothes.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded, panic welling as she realized he was about to pull his disappearing act. “Don’t you dare leave me here—”

  He was gone.

  “Dammit!” she screamed.

  And then he reappeared, as if he had heard her screaming at him. He strode purposefully toward her and her heart thundered.

  What would he do?

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and for one glorious moment, she thought everything would be all right, but then her body yanked back, cells splitting and reforming and they stood in her living room.

  And Charlie vanished once more.

  Damn it all. He had only come back to deposit her back in her own house. She supposed she ought to be grateful he’d been that thoughtful. He could have left her to find her way back in the dark with no clothing but the corset and stockings.

  But no. Fuck. This. She stomped to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans and t-shirt. He didn’t get to run out on her every time things got difficult. If he was mad at her, he needed to stay and tell her about it.

  She put on her sneakers and grabbed her keys, marching out the door. He’d said he liked to go downtown—she’d find him there.

  The idea that he might be angry with her gnawed at her and something tickling the back of her mind surfaced: the color in his face had looked different after he’d bitten her. He’d been so pale when she tried to wake him and...hadn’t he said he was hungry?

  Her belly twisted into a knot of guilt. Why had she freaked out on him, anyway? He’d been right, it hadn’t hurt and she experienced no after-effects, so he hadn’t taken too much. Maybe he had really needed to feed. Or maybe it was his substitute for orgasm, and when she’d denied him that it was like adding insult to injury.

  She walked briskly downtown, looking for any sign of him. When she saw none, she headed to The Black Cat. She walked in, nervous about entering the bar alone. Without thinking, she threw up her bubble of protection, her trigger reaction to being nervous.

  Three heads in the back whipped around to stare at her and her blood turned cold.

  Vampires.

  And Charlie had been right. They certainly looked more unsavory than he. She glanced right and left, scanning the crowd quickly for any sign of him. She backed toward the door, trying not to look scared. No sign of Charlie, and the vampires had stood up and were sauntering toward her. She scanned the bar one last time and turned, walking swiftly out.

  A vampire appeared directly in front of her, blocking her path.

  Blue-balling it never failed to put him in a foul mood. He tried to shake himself out of it, but the darkness kept creeping back.

  The scene back there with Sasha had reminded him too much of Anka. Why he’d thought she was different—or any woman was different, for that matter—eluded him. Love was not a genuine concept. People—and vampires—are selfish creatures. In the end, everyone just looks out for him or herself. He’d been stupid to offer her pleasure without being able to receive his own, stupid to think she would reciprocate with the one thing he needed from her.

  He stopped and rubbed his face.

  No. She wasn’t like Anka. Sasha had been scared and she always lashed out when afraid. He normally liked that about her—enjoyed her pluck in the face of adversity. And she was right about him disappearing every time things made him uncomfortable. But if he had stayed, he would have said some of the stupid things he’d been thinking, and that would have hurt her.

  And despite his assertion of selfishness, he couldn’t stand to see her hurt. Even as he’d traced away, her pain had tripped him.

  He walked downtown, the stars and fresh air soothing his frayed nerves. Something made him stop and listen. Not a sound, more a feeling: fear. And not his own.


  Sasha.

  He’d had her blood and now that his own emotions had calmed, he sensed hers. Something was wrong. Before he could move, a scream split the air, sounding just a few blocks away. He traced to the alleyway behind The Black Cat just as another scream sounded. His blood turned cold when he saw the scene: Sasha, immobilized through a glamour, her head tilted back to expose her throat, the vampire Abe Fenman and his two cronies leaning over her as she screamed.

  “Looks like she’s already been bitten tonight,” Abe remarked just before Charlie traced behind him and yanked him back.

  The fight that began at once came at vampire speed, bodies tracing and reforming, blows violent enough to crack bones. Three against one made it difficult, but the rage inside him made him forget all concern for himself. He had to get to Sasha to disable the glamour that had her frozen and vulnerable. He twisted and kicked the wiry vampire named Andre, but took a hard blow to the gut from Abe and the third vampire slashed at his throat with a broken bottle.

  The glass caught the tendon between his neck and shoulder, missing his vital artery. He caught Sasha’s face in his hands, taking the few seconds necessary to release her from the glamour. “Bubble up, make no eye contact. Run as fast as you can.”

  The distraction cost him, as the three undead attacked at once, one held his arms back as the others kicked and punched his gut. He kicked the body in front of him in the gut and brought the back of his head back to bash the nose of his captor.

  Sasha had made a bubble, but she didn’t move; she stood staring in horror.

  “Run!” he bellowed, wishing he’d used a glamour on her to enforce her obedience.

  His attention on her caused the vampires to adjust their focus, one of them turning to her while the other two continued to fight him.

  The broken glass slashed his forearm, but he tackled Andre to the pavement and bashed his head repeatedly against the asphalt.

  “Charlie!”

  Sasha’s scream made him jerk his head up in time to see her hurling a ball of light squarely in Abe’s face, the furious vampire lunging with a roar.