How to Discipline Your Vampire (16 page)

As I drifted off to sleep in his freezing embrace, a thought occurred to me. I had been harsh about the boyfriend thing, but I could give him a little encouragement. “Outside of scenes I want you to call me Cerise,” I said, then dozed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cerise

Okay, so here’s where if I had a BFF, she’d smack some sense into me and tell me I was crazy.

That I’d be a fool to even THINK of abandoning something so rare, and so good.

Then she’d borrow my lipstick and I’d call her my favorite bitch, and we’d go shoe shopping.

But I don’t have a BFF—aside from Erin, who totally doesn’t count—and so therefore there was nobody to talk me down from the ledge I had considered scaling.

Why the hell was I approaching a ledge in the first place?

There was a man out there in the world that literally lived just to please me. Whose every action catered to all my needs. What kind of sicko would reject that kind of adoration?

Me.

This didn’t feel right. For the past few weeks, I didn’t know what to do with myself. When I looked in the mirror after a night with William, I thought I’d see Kate Hudson in the mirror and not me—some bubbly romantic comedy actress who was in love.

All I saw back was a really confused and frightened Domme.

How was I supposed to do this? I knew how to dish out punishment and please the fuck out of a man. I knew how to grade algorithms and how to tie a proper harness. I didn’t know how to
love
someone.

I didn’t know how to wake up in the arms of a man who now said my name with near-religious reverence, as though the physical act of speaking the name
Cerise
brought him closer to God.

A man who deserved worship himself.

William.

Feeling his cool hands brush down my back as I woke up and stretched happily. Nuzzling into his chest as I yawned. Strapping his wrists to the headboard to grab a quickie before school. The past few weeks with William had been both spectacular and new, but all these things were so foreign to me.

And according to my late father, who was a Republican, things that are foreign are
wrong
.

I couldn’t possibly give William everything he needed. I could give him the thrill of my dominance . . . but aside from that, the man clearly needed love. What the hell did I know about that? I had no family now that my dad had passed, and no friends to speak of other than a cranky girl who fucked my ex.

No matter. I had to grade someone else’s tests, so I headed to the office, sullenly contemplating potentially stupid and self-destructive decisions.

Today was a surprise day, a William original, and already I was anxious about opening his e-mail. Would it be something that drew me closer to him, heightening my confusion, or would it be just a clever way to fuck me? Either way, I was screwed on several levels.

With trepidation, I opened my inbox to a peculiar sight. William’s e-mail itself had no subject line, and no contents other than a link to a website. When I clicked on it, I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Add web designer to my list of things William does superbly.

The website was entitled Last Man on Earth. It was a blog.

The pictures in the sidebar were of William in an abandoned house, with other photographs of street signs and maps. There were links to survival websites along with a brief bio. I shook my head at the screen, not really knowing what to make of it.

There was a big red block of text in the middle of the screen—screaming for attention. “I am seeking survivors—anyone. It’s safe where I live and I promise I have food and provisions for survival. I have staved off several waves of zombies over the past year and have the scars to prove it. If you are still unaffected by the sickness and need a safe place to live, I am actively looking to build a small community. Right now, there is just me. I haven’t seen another healthy human in several months, but I remain hopeful. I’ve posted enough information on this website for any human survivor to find me. Please, come. As treacherous as the journey may be, I promise I can make it worthwhile. We owe it to humanity to continue on.”

I laughed out loud. Oh, this was going to be a hoot.

“What are you so happy about?” Katy asked, rubbing her belly as she saw me heading toward my next class.

“Zombie hunting,” I said, and she just made an amused but perplexed face and moved on.

Throughout the day, I brushed up on zombie lore. The slow ones were called shamblers because of the way they staggered when they walked. They did come out during the day, but their energy was typically much stronger at night. The only way to kill zombies is decapitation and/or dismemberment.

Damn, if vampires existed, did zombies? I hoped William was just being cheeky with this scene, and not warning me about something.

I went home before heading to the abandoned house. I grabbed my backpack and threw some canned goods in there, along with bottled water and some of my cooking knives. My jeans were tattered, as was my dirty tee shirt. A few years ago I participated in a survivor-like retreat with a few fellow Dommes to work on leadership techniques. My jeans were destroyed on one of the hikes, and my shirt was stained beyond recognition by the naughty s’mores-fest that followed. So, I had a perfect ensemble for today, no need for William’s or Harvey’s intervention.

This was almost like a scavenger hunt. I made a note in my mind to recommend more scenes like this in the future.

Gah,
I was thinking about the future. Dammit.

I plugged the address into my smartphone and made my way to the last beacon of hope for humanity. I parked a few blocks away so I’d be approaching the house on foot, and possibly out of breath. Seriously, I hadn’t worked out in a while, so it wasn’t a long shot.

The house was an old colonial, and appeared to have been vacated years ago. Some of the shutters were loose and hanging askew, and there were more than a few boarded-up windows.

Just as I started up the walkway, William burst through the door.

“Behind you!” he shouted, beckoning to me. “Run!”

For a moment, I was actually scared. I sprinted toward him and he swept me inside quickly, bolting the door behind him.

He slumped against the wall and peeked over his shoulder out the door’s window.

“It turned around,” he panted, wiping his brow.

“A shambler?” I asked, huffing.

He nodded. “In good shape, too. Could have done some real damage.”

I extended my hand. “I found your website—I’m Cerise.”

He sucked in a long breath. “William.”

“I come bearing gifts.” I unzipped the backpack and spilled its contents on the floor.

He rifled through the cans, amazed. “Thank you so much. I have a lot more in the cupboard, but it’s nice to have some variety,” he said with a smile. “There’s only so many canned carrots and beans a man can eat.”

“I don’t know what you have for weapons, but I brought some knives,” I said, unpacking my wares.

He gestured to the far wall of the sitting room we were in. “A couple of handguns, a rifle, and a fireman’s axe. Not great, but they do the trick.”

I hugged him. “Thank God I found you.”

He squeezed back. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for someone.”

Actually, I had some idea. I blushed at the truth behind his words.

He jumped up suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

I scrambled to get up, and clutched one of my knives. “Yes.”

William hurried to the wall and grabbed a gun. “Downstairs is the safest place in the house,” he said. “We’ve had a couple of groups roaming this part of town for the last week. I think we should head for cover. We can get acquainted once we’re settled.”

I nodded and followed him down the stairs. The panic was totally turning me on.

The basement was dank and gloomy, but William managed to find the pull chain for the lightbulb and turned it on. There was a fridge and a futon, that was it.

“Nothing fancy,” he apologized, “but it’s home. And you’re safe.”

“It’s fine,” I said, sitting on the futon. “I just can’t believe there’s someone else who survived. I’ve been on my own for a while.”

He sat down close to me, and put his hand on mine. “How did you survive?”

I shrugged. “Kept my wits, and stayed on the main roads. I’d stop here and there in small towns, avoiding big cities. I used a few cars, too. Sometimes I’d sleep in them. You?”

“My philosophy was to hunker down in one place and fortify it. I don’t know if you can tell, but I had some alarms rigged outside. That’s why I made the website—this place is safe.”

I gripped his hand. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He smiled warmly. “Your presence here is thanks enough. I’ve been hoping for someone—anyone—to relieve my loneliness. Who would have thought it would be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”

I blushed and hid my smile with my hand. “Oh come on, you’re just saying that because you haven’t seen a woman in ages.”

He brushed his hand along my palm. “No, I mean it.”

I scooted toward him. “You’re not bad to look at, yourself.”

He spread his hands wide. “At least I have all my body parts. Every guy who’s passed by here has been missing at least an arm or a nose.”

I laughed, and snuggled into his shoulder. “You’re funny, too.”

He jumped. “Shit.”

Again, alarm ripped through my body. “What?”

“I need to bolt the door to the basement. It sounds like they got inside.” He raced up the stairs and I watched him move a heavy board over the door.

When he made his way back to the futon, his expression had become grave.

“I’m scared,” I said, pulling him down to me.

He raked both hands through my hair and cupped my face. “I’ll take care of you.”

I swung a leg around his hips and scooted myself into his lap. “I bet you will.”

He gripped my hips and nuzzled my neck, inhaling. “God, it’s been so long,” he whispered, grinding himself against me.

“Fuck,” I moaned, clutching him and squirming against his crotch.

He panted. “We may not have long until they break in,” he said, voice husky, “but I need you right now.”

I pulled my jeans off as he frantically pulled his pants down to his knees. He cupped his hand between my legs and moaned at my wetness.

I threw myself onto the futon and spread my legs for him. He watched me for a moment and stroked himself. I slid my finger inside and pulled it out, goading him. He kneeled between my knees and penetrated me swiftly. We both groaned quietly, trying in vain to control the noises we were making. It was hard to keep quiet, but we had to be safe.

I spread my legs wide on the futon and ground into him, trying to get as deep as I could go. He just kept his hands on my hips and thrust forcefully, desperation making his grim face even more stern. We both needed it so bad, and we were fucking like our lives depended on it.

“Oh—” I moaned, and he covered my mouth with his hand roughly.

Oddly enough, I really liked it. I licked his palm, still clamped over my mouth.

He humped faster as I reached around and spanked his ass. “Faster,” I grunted.

He complied, thrusting into me at an impossible pace. I liked him like this, fast and rough. So much so, that I actually wanted to change it up.

“Get behind me,” I whispered, and bent over the couch, wiggling my ass in the air.

“Fuck, Cerise,” he hissed, running his hands along my cheeks and settling them on my hips.

I felt his length tease me for a second before he entered me from behind. I gripped the arm of the couch and spread my legs a bit, reveling in the sensation. “Come on,” I goaded.

He bucked vigorously, leaning forward and giving it to me hard.

“That’s it,” I moaned, “I want more.”

William clutched my hips tighter and slammed into me, pulling out slowly, then pushing himself back in again. I nearly screamed with pleasure.

After another feral and fast minute, I felt him pull out and grunt, coming on my back. To my surprise, he immediately got on his knees, and buried his face between my legs, lapping with his tongue.

“I’ve missed the taste of a woman,” he said, licking slowly. I pushed his head against me, and scooted around so he was half lying on the couch and I was straddling above him. I rode his face as he gripped my ass, working his tongue in all the right ways.

Pulsing, stroking, wiggling.

“William,” I screamed, his tongue still embedded inside me.

I felt like I was coming apart, unraveling as I listened to the wet sounds of his tongue and fingers penetrating me, caressing me inside and out.

I held his face there for a moment, and he finished kissing my thighs sweetly. I slumped down his chest and into his lap, looking into his clear periwinkle eyes.

“You are too much, Gentry,” I said, collapsing with laughter.

“Me or the zombie idea?” he asked, smoothing my hair.

“Both.”

“I thought it was pretty fun.”

I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s too bad you can’t get a job writing role-play scenarios,” I joked, “because you’d be a millionaire.”

He scooped me into his arms. “Already am.”

I kissed him on the nose. “Show-off.”

“Know anyone who wants to renovate and rent an old house?” he asked with a snicker.

“You didn’t . . .”

“Did too.”

I tapped my lip thoughtfully as he carried me up the stairs. “Maybe we should keep it like this and people can live out their zombie apocalypse fantasies for a small fee?”

“Now you’re thinking.”

We hunkered down in the living room, and I dined on canned peaches and pears. William licked the juice off my chin, and we lit a fire.

Not bad for the end of the world.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cerise

To say I’d had a busy month would be an understatement.

Some of the highlights from the past few weeks—photographer and model, prisoner and warden, snowbound in a cabin, the list goes on. Whatever scene I threw at him, he crafted it with gusto and originality. When it was a surprise day, he topped himself each time.

Last week, we used the abandoned house again. No, not another apocalypse. We were fugitives on the run from a bank robbery. William cashed out one of his bank accounts and we fucked on a bed covered in hundred-dollar bills.

Things were good, so I decided to give William a present today.

One he had been waiting for.

I presented the box to him at the kitchen table, after I had eaten my lunch.

“Whatever this is,” he began, “I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes, you do. In fact, you’ve been expecting it.”

He relented, and opened the box with his long, graceful fingers. “Cerise,” he breathed.

“Your collar,” I said proudly.

It wasn’t a collar in a traditional sense—it was a sexy-as-hell leather wrist cuff. This way he could always keep it on without getting unwanted attention. You know, because typically sexy guys don’t walk around town wearing dog collars.

He wrapped it around his wrist and clicked it shut. “I’m never taking it off.”

I stroked his forearm. “Looks good on you.”

He appraised me for a moment, nodding.

“What?”

“Generous beneath your brash exterior. You’re
such
a Leo,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“You don’t know your own Zodiac sign?” he asked, appalled.

I shook my head. “Superstitious nonsense.”

He waggled his finger at me. “Oh, not at all. I’ve got your number, Cerise. You’re a Leo to a
T
.”

“Oh really. Go on.” I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, waiting for his silly esoteric explanation.

“Domineering, for starters,” he grinned. “Confident and encouraging.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “You only see what you want to see in those descriptions. I bet there are ten other adjectives that wouldn’t describe me at all.”

“Melodramatic and stubborn?”

I grimaced.

He laughed.

“Okay, so what are you?” I asked.

“A Virgo.”

“Oh, you were a Virgo when we met, all right.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, the irony doesn’t escape me.”

I cracked my knuckles and leaned in, intensely. “Tell me about Virgos,” I said, placating him.

“Successful, structured, creative,” he droned, patting himself on the back. “We’re very reflective.”

I nodded. “Spot on, Gentry. Anything else?”

“We are givers, who only want love in return.”

My throat tightened. “Interesting.”

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 teased. “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.