VAMPIRE: COLLECTION - TWO HOT & PASSIONATE Vampire Short Stories to Tickle You Numb! (MMF, Menage, Threesome, BDSM, Vampire Romance) (7 page)

"I say a lot of things," Reshi said.  "But you never listened to me before."

"Maybe I finally got wise."

"Sybil, you have no idea how much that thought frightens me."

I couldn't tell if he was being facetious or serious, and it irked me.  I shot him a dirty look and went to my bedroom to dress--a silk chemise, soft and cool to counter the warmth of the bath.  I decided against the matching underwear.  "Is there anything else you'll need?" Reshi asked, as he watched me dress.  He always did like to watch.  

"No, go to bed.  I'll speak to Nicholas now."

Reshi nodded and backed away.  I went to Nicholas's room--a large walk-in closet that I'd never used as a closet.   It had always been the place where the thrall slept.  There was a bed.  On one wall was a pegboard holding the various collars, manacles, ropes, and in the boxes were smaller sundries, clamps and the like, that I'd collected over the years.  On the other wall were shelves holding his clothes, shoes, and a jewelry box for the piercings that I adorned him with.  Technically, they were my clothes, shoes, etc. for him--and I realized now that releasing him wasn't going to be as easy as I wanted it to be.  He had literally nothing.  I could give him a few changes of clothes and even the car, but that wouldn't help him.  He had been my thrall for five years--and while cunnilingus is a useful skill, it wasn't exactly the kind of expertise that would get him a job.  

He was kneeling next to his bed, his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles manacled together, with a ball gag in his mouth.  Reshi had positioned him so that his back was to me, allowing him to rest his head on the bed.  And probably so that I wouldn't have to watch him watching me as I spoke.  

I put my hands on his shoulders. 
I will miss this body,
I thought, pressing my fingers into the hard flesh of his shoulders.  "Nicholas, what am I going to do with you?"  I began to undo the ball gag, and then began to uncuff his hands and ankles.  "You knew the rules and you disobeyed them.  I can't have that."

"I deserve many lashes," Nicholas whispered.  

"Yes, but Reshi and Charles were right--I cannot punish you for loving me.  The only avenue open to me is to release you, so I am releasing you from the contract."

Much to my surprise, Nicholas flung himself at my feet.  If I thought he was upset before, he was flat-out panicked, now.  "No, Lady Sybil.  Please.  Don't cast me away," he cried.  He began to gasp--deep, shuddering breaths that made it seem like something was squeezing the air out of him.  I couldn't understand why--most thralls that had to be released were glad for it--until I realized that he was afraid.  

"What are you afraid of?" I asked.  "I will, of course, provide for you until you can find a job of your own, and buy you--"

"Myself," Nicholas blurted out.  "I'm afraid of myself.  I'm afraid of what I am, what I could be, out there.  Here--the rules--I know I am nothing without you, and you make me into what you want me to be.  Out there, I have to be something--I have to choose to be something--and I'm afraid--"

It dawned on me that perhaps I should have chosen better, asked more questions, done some more digging, before I'd chosen him.  It never occurred to me that the willingness to sign the contract--the contract that contained terms that made most people go white, being "for the rest of my life"--was in itself an indication of something wrong. "Nicholas?  Are you saying you're gay?"

He looked up at me, the most abject picture of misery, and I knelt down and licked the tears that were just starting to flood out of his eyes.  I hadn't absolved the bond yet, and in that moment I understood--his father, a deeply religious man who hated his son; the disgust at the things he'd done to get himself out of Iowa; the hatred of himself and the depths to which he'd sunk.   "Oh," I said.  "You never said anything," I marveled.

"You never asked," he said.  

I realized, then, why he'd been so eager to sign the contract that would essentially reduce him to nothingness for the rest of his life.  I'd assumed that he had been as Reshi once was--a young man with no prospects, whose tastes were a bit kinky.  It never occurred to me that anybody could
need
this. 

I kissed his forehead and drew his head to my chest.   "You'll tell me the story when you're ready," I said. 

"My lady is too kind," he murmured.  

I stood up.  "But.  You did defy me, and you did violate the terms of the contract.  And I cannot allow that to go unpunished.  If you will not be released, then you must be punished."

The room had steel eyelets embedded in the floor and ceiling, three in the floor and three in the ceiling.  A shudder ran through Nicholas's body, but he accepted my judgment without protest.  "I accept whatever my lady deems fit," he murmured.  

I put a finger under his chin and bade him to rise, wondering if he could sense my heart pounding in my chest, the tremor running through my body. Charles and Reshi had been right--it would be wrong to whip him--but at the same time, I'd never done something like this to a thrall before.  The plan--what wisps and faint traces there were of one--were just starting to form.  Punishing a thrall had its own set of rules:  this violation, so many lashes of the whip; that isolation, so many days in isolation; pre-ordained by the Order Chiefs so that there would be no envy between thralls.  Falling in love usually called for the release of the thrall, but how did one punish a thrall who didn't wish to break the contract? 

Adding to my nervousness was that this was the first time I'd ever been on the giving end of the pain.  I'd whipped him, yes, but that wasn't the same.  Pain alone would not suffice for the purpose of this punishment--I had to make sure he would not love me again, and for that I would have to hurt him.  

I shackled his ankles to the eyelets in the floor, the ones that were furthest apart.  I did the same to his wrists, making a human "X" in the middle of the room, and then took a step back to collect myself.  The look in his eyes was that of absolute submission, which only ate away at my resolve that much more.  I found a silk scarf and tied it around his eyes.  

I ran my hands up and down his body, not quite ready to commit to this.  It was possible that he'd never trust me again.  It was possible that he'd break under my hands.  It was possible that what I was going to do would ruin him forever, that the only thing he would be good for was feeding afterwards.  That he'd never recover--that this body of his, in all its rippling delights, and the majestic grandeur of having his cock inside me, would never happen again as long as he lived.  I would go insane.  

Well, don't we all?

There was nothing to do but go forward.  "Discipline," I said, taking the riding crop and smacking the inside of his thigh, "is often confused with punishment, but they are not the same.  Punishment is a consequence."  I brought the crop down hard across his ass.  He inhaled sharply, but didn't cry out.  "A foregone conclusion."  I smacked his right nipple with the crop.  "A result of a poor choice of actions."  Now the left.  

"Yes, Lady Sybil," he said, panting.  

"Discipline is designed to teach," I continued, tracing the tip of the crop up his side.  He shuddered but otherwise remained still.  I stepped away, found the right box, chose a dildo, slicked it with some lube.  "It is designed to impart a lesson.  To change the person who experiences it."  I brought the tip of it against his ass, and braced myself.

His body convulsed.  I was thrown aside, but I quickly recovered and planted myself firmly behind him.  "L-lady Sybil--God, please, no--"

It was now or never.   My hands tightened, one around his cock, the other on the dildo. And yet, even as I wrestled him into stillness, all I could hear was his whimpering, and all I could feel was the pounding of his heart, the terror in his veins. 

This isn't discipline, either.
 

And it was never.

***

"You did the right thing," Reshi said.

"I know I did the right thing," I said.  "But I just--the rules are rules.  A thrall must have consequences for his actions.  He must be released if he falls in love.  And so far?  What've I done?  Nothing!"

It was early in the evening again, but I hadn't fed yet.  I couldn't stand to look at Nicholas and I banished him from my sight until I could, and the weakness from not having fed made me cranky. The wine didn't help.

"Is the world ending?" Reshi asked, as he picked at his quiche.

"Is the--what?"

"Is the world ending?"

"No.  Why?"

"Then what's so terrible about breaking the rules?"

I couldn't come up with a good answer.  "Fine," I said.  I reached for the wine, and poured myself a glass.  "Was I really so terrible with you?" I asked.

"Sybil, you let me take courses on Proust."  

"No wonder you're insufferable."

"That's why you love me."

"Do I?"

Before he could answer the doorbell rang.  Reshi went to answer it, leaving me to mull over what was either my epiphany or a moment of weakness.   After I realized I couldn't do it to Nicholas, I unshackled him, eased him down, gave him a bathrobe, which he wrapped around himself.  There was nothing I could say to him, so I left him.  He hadn't left his room since then.

I am not a cruel person.
And I was glad that last night had confirmed that belief.  Nicholas, for all that he'd gone essentially unpunished, would probably think twice about his feelings again, and it would be a long time before he'd dare to disobey me again.  

So why did I feel so dissatisfied?  

It wasn't just the thirst, though the fact that I'd skipped the feeding that day definitely didn't help matters any.  I
wanted
to be violent, to cause real pain, draw blood.  That frenzy of adrenaline and blood that had taken me in the park had awakened a deeper kind of thirst, and I was afraid to find out what it would take to satisfy it.  

"Sybil, you're not going to be happy with me, but..."  Reshi came back in, leading Charles, dressed in a gray seersucker suit and carrying a bouquet of flowers.  Reshi scurried out of the kitchen before I could scold him.  I heard the main door open and close.  So much for control over my own house.  

"What did you say to him?"

Charles shrugged.  "Only that it would be terribly rude if I couldn't at least give these flowers to his lady," he said.  "Do you have a vase?"

I pulled out a pitcher from the cabinet, filled it about halfway with water, and slide the container across the cabinet at Charles.  "What do you want?" I asked.  

"Have you considered my proposal?"

I could only stare at him.  I'd just spent the night wrestling with the question of how to manage my thrall, and he wanted to know if I would bear his child?  The nerve of the man!  

"I take it that's a no."

"I almost raped Nicholas last night," I said.  "You still think I'm a suitable mother for your child?"

"But you didn't," he said.  "So I'd say that demonstrates an immense amount of self-control for a woman who hasn't had to exercise any in over a century."

A vampire's stomach doesn't growl, exactly, if she hasn't fed, and we can go for up to a week between feedings if we have to.  But that doesn't mean we don't feel hungry, and as he arranged the bouquet in the vase I found himself wondering if shapeshifter blood tasted different if he took on the form of a white tiger again.  

"You look hungry," he said, after a moment.  "I take it Nicholas no longer suits you?"

"He suits me fine," I said.  "But I am hungry."

He stepped closer to me and took my hands in his.  "I won't be your thrall," he whispered.  

I laughed bitterly.  "Believe me, with the way things are going with this one, I don't think I could handle a second."  

"I am sorry for any troubles I have caused my lady."  Nicholas's voice floated across the kitchen.  I hadn't heard him leave the bedroom, and as he came in I wondered how much he'd overheard.  He'd put on a pair of jeans, but no shirt."I should have accepted the punish--discipline--I should have--"

It was clear that he was in no state for a feeding.  I could sense the numbness, the vast chasm of emptiness a person has to cross after they've been through something, while their soul recalibrates and tries to find "normal" again.  I hoped it would--some people never did find the metaphorical ground again, some people ended up on an alien planet from which they never returned.  I didn't think I'd damaged him that badly, but only time would tell.  "Nicholas, are you hungry?" I asked, because despite feeling very sorry for what I'd done, seeing him shirtless fanned the flames of my appetite, and my mouth began to water.  It was all I could do to not lick my lips. 

"Do you like burgers?" Charles asked.  He pulled out his phone.  "I can have Five Guys deliver some of the best hamburgers in town in a heartbeat."

"He does," I said, when Nicholas just stared vacantly at us.  "I think some food could do us all good."

After Charles placed the order, an awkward silence settled between us without Reshi's glib tongue to diffuse the tension.  I led Charles to the living room, so that he could see the last of the sunset.   "Beautiful," he murmured.