Authors: Joey W Hill
Tags: #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural
Vampire Instinct (43 page)
She whimpered, her brow creasing as her eyes shut tight. “I can’t. I just can’t. I want to, but I don’t, and I don’t know why I’m feeling this now. I think I’m going to faint.”
“Shhh . . .” His arm slid over her chest, his large hand gripping the opposite shoulder and dwarfing it as he held her back into the heat of his body. “You wouldn’t faint, fierce little flower, even if Satan himself blew fire and brimstone in your face. What I’m about to do will help with all of it, everything going through your head now. I promise.”
“How? How can it help?”
“Let your mind go and do as I say. Keep going; reach beneath your skirt.”
He loosened his hold enough that she could do as he said, but he was still there, his body lending her the strength behind the demand. When she reached bare flesh, creeping up to find the elastic waist of her panties, he was stroking the side of her throat, tilting her head into his shoulder, letting her close her eyes as she hooked the band and began to ease them off. Her hands were trembling so that when they reached the tapering part of her leg, just above her knee, they slid free and fell, landing around her ankles and onto her canvas sneakers.
Pressing a hand to her back to help her bend, he let that touch drift to her hip to steady her as she freed the panties from her ankles. When she gathered them up into a discreet ball in her hand, she had to quell the sudden compulsion to fold them neatly as she might do with the laundry. However, if she was having trouble merely handing them to him, the logistics of folding were far outside her abilities right now.
His hand came out from under her right arm, the other sliding about her waist, holding her close. When she put the ball of soft, worn fabric in his palm, his fingers closed over it and her slim ones briefly, holding her there before he took the panties and his touch away.
“Up on the chair with you now.” His hand was on her elbow again, urging her forward. She managed it clumsily, needing to adjust her skirt so it wasn’t caught under her knees. Drawing in a breath, she closed her hands on the top of the chair for balance. He adjusted her stance so her knees were on the edge of the wood, digging into her flesh with the reminder of the open space beneath them. She’d kept her knees closer together, but he widened them, to the point the outside of each was pressed against either chair arm. It made her balance feel precarious, vulnerable, such that she tightened her hands on the chair top.
“Stay like this, Elisa.”
“This frightens me.”
“Trust me.” Reaching over the desk, he pulled out a drawer. “Eyes front, Elisa. Toward the opposite wall.”
She knew the types of games and sexual . . . tests, for lack of a better word, that vampires played with their servants. And
play
was definitely the wrong word for it, for there was nothing whimsical or childlike about it. She’d witnessed quite a few of Lady Danny’s dinner parties, but even as a second-mark, she was only dinner help, not part of the floor show the way Dev always was, as Danny’s full servant. She was often sent out of the room before the real post-dinner games began, those limited to the vampires and their full servants. However, on the few occasions she’d had to come back in to retrieve a dish or bring more wine, she’d seen things that had fascinated and mortified her at once, sending her scurrying away quickly, blushing, even though she’d had an equal wish to stay and look longer. That conflict in desires was similar to what she was feeling now. What
was
he doing?
play
was definitely the wrong word for it, for there was nothing whimsical or childlike about it. She’d witnessed quite a few of Lady Danny’s dinner parties, but even as a second-mark, she was only dinner help, not part of the floor show the way Dev always was, as Danny’s full servant. She was often sent out of the room before the real post-dinner games began, those limited to the vampires and their full servants. However, on the few occasions she’d had to come back in to retrieve a dish or bring more wine, she’d seen things that had fascinated and mortified her at once, sending her scurrying away quickly, blushing, even though she’d had an equal wish to stay and look longer. That conflict in desires was similar to what she was feeling now. What
was
he doing?
He’d taken out a handful of short ropes and now he’d cinched each of her knees to the chair arm it paralleled, which would hold her knees out wide. Leaning over her, what was straining against the denim pressing through the skirt, he looped another tether over her hands and bound them to the top slat of the chair.
“Sir . . . Mr. Malachi . . .”
“Hush,” he said quietly. “This is your punishment, Elisa. Obey me as your Master.”
She was still trembling, but at his words, it transformed into something different. When he tied her fast, his touch was gentle, fingers testing the bonds, making sure they weren’t too tight, that they weren’t uncomfortable. Then she heard the metal of his belt clink and her belly flip-flopped again.
“It’ll be fifteen strikes,” he said. “I’m going to do it on your bare ass. You’ll call each one out to me as I do it, and as you count it off, you will say, ‘I will never disobey you again, sir.’ Do you understand?”
The last time she’d been thrashed had been when she was fifteen, for shirking her duties to slip away to a fair in Perth. She’d met a young, lanky lad there who’d given her a flower and tried to steal a kiss, which she’d laughingly escaped, though she’d wondered what that kiss would have felt like. Though the thrashing hurt, she wouldn’t have traded that day for it. She had a feeling Mal’s arm was a trifle stronger than the house mistress at the Collins’ house. It made her stomach quake, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
But first he touched that rounded area, his palm fitting to one of the cheeks to knead it through her skirt, his fingertips whispering over her sensitive flesh, so close to other, even more sensitive flesh. When he folded the fabric up, secured it in the slim belted waistline, cool air drifted over her naked, moistening flesh. He had a full, unimpeded view of her there, her legs bound and spread that way. “Count it, Elisa.”
“One.”
She was right. He had a much stronger arm than Mrs. Florence. She almost yelped at the sting, but managed to bite it back. “I will never disobey you again,” she said, her voice breaking. “Two.”
Snap.
A quick strike, a reminder, and she bit it out fast. “Sir.”
A quick strike, a reminder, and she bit it out fast. “Sir.”
While it had hurt like the devil, the aftermath . . . didn’t. The tingling as his hand passed over her arse almost made her want another. She didn’t have long to wait.
He didn’t pause much between the next three except for her to get out the words he was requiring her to say. Those hurt more, because he was hitting over the same abused flesh. Her thighs quivered, hands gripping the top of the chair. Bound as she was, she couldn’t do anything to stop him, no twist or jerk out of the way, and yet something more was happening. When he stopped after the third, his knuckles teased their way along the crease between her buttocks, a shocking sensation that made her want to writhe. Before she could do more than draw in a quick breath, he’d passed that area, dropped his fingers and inserted them between the lips of her sex. He slid in so easily, the arousal made an audible sucking sound.
She would have blushed hard at that, but his pleased, feral growl sent another kind of flush across her skin. A harder strike this time, one that shoved that yelp past her teeth. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“I want to hear your cries, Elisa.” There was a wealth of meaning to that. Was his cock harder, straining even more against his jeans from looking at her naked and bound like this? And why did that make her even more aroused, as if they were feeding that part of each other?
Four more this time, and in addition to the pain and arousal, something else surged inside of her as well. An ache in her throat that became tears, though she couldn’t really say what was making her want to cry. She was just sorry for so many things, and it felt like she needed to purge a backlog of feeling. She wanted him to keep going, beyond fifteen strokes, though of course such a thought was crazy. Her arse was already on fire, enough that strikes nine and ten caused genuine cries of pain.
“Say it, Elisa.”
“I will never disobey you again. Sir.”
He leaned forward, nuzzled her backside with his face, rubbing his jaw against the left cheek. His heated breath whispered over her sex and she contracted without thought, just imagining his tongue sliding in there, the way he’d done it before. God, the coil in her stomach was so tight, she was shaking all over, from something even more powerful than pain.
“More,” she whispered. “Please, sir.”
He paused; then she felt the brief prick of fangs before he pulled back. “All together. I want to hear you scream.”
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant until the belt landed. He didn’t pause to let her speak, though she tried to get the syllables out. They got lost when she did in fact cry out, not once but on each of the final five strikes. The sixteenth he threw in unexpectedly singed her nerve endings and sent her body jerking hard against her bonds. Tears had wet her face, but she said it now, six times in succession, breathlessly, an oath that suddenly meant far more.
“I will never disobey you, sir. I will never disobey you, sir . . .”
The tongue of the belt teased over her throbbing flesh, then down, playing with her soaking cunt. It had been a crude word at first, one he used, but now she embraced the primal sound of it, at least in her mind. It made her hotter, needier. Leaning in, he pressed against the back of her thigh. He was in fact hard as an iron bar for her.
“Of course you’ll disobey me again. Because of who you are, and how that mind of yours works. And because you’ll realize if you’re very bad, I’ll do this to you again. Lift your ass to me, Elisa. Lift it as high as you can, and hold it there until I tell you that you can move.”
It was an awkward position, but she managed it, perhaps because she was so overwhelmed with emotional reaction she thought she could touch her arse to the back of her head if he commanded it. She didn’t think about his words, about how shameless the truth made her. Instead, she waited, soft whimpers coming from her, whimpers that became a different kind of cry as his mouth closed fully over her wet cunt, sucking on those juices, licking them away and creating more as his tongue dipped into her, swirled and came back out, only to thrust in again.
It doesn’t make you shameless, Elisa. It means you want to serve your Master, give him pleasure, make him crazy with lust for you until he’ll fuck you a hundred different ways, wear you out and then want to take you all over again, to remind you that you’re his.
She wanted him to take her while she was tied in this chair, helpless to him, his cock buried deep inside of her. She wanted him to thrust and take her over, reach under her arms and grip her breasts through the thin dress, rip the fabric away and leave it in tatters. She wanted him to do what he wanted, take her soaring to that incredible place that at times had left her perplexed and wanting, but there was no confusion now. Her fully woken body had a singular purpose, to serve his pleasure.
“As part of your punishment, I had no intention of being inside you tonight, even if you begged,” he observed, that growl in his voice. “Though you’re making it damnably difficult to remember why the hell I decided that.”
“It wouldn’t bother me . . . if you changed your mind.”
“No, I’m sure it wouldn’t.” Stepping to the side of the chair, he lifted her chin, keeping her arched in all ways to him. With the other hand, he slipped back over the globe of her backside and found her wet pussy again, began to stroke that dense area of nerve endings with devilish skill. “You’ll look at me as you climax, Elisa. Give me everything. Don’t take your eyes off me, or I’ll give you fifteen more stripes, and I promise they will hurt like the very devil over top of those.”
She didn’t need the reminder. Now that he was done, there was a throbbing heat over her buttocks that told her she was going to have trouble sitting down for the next day or so, unless the second-mark healing ability jumped in and helped her somewhat. But to look at him while this was happening was so difficult. Those dark, fathomless eyes following the widening of her gaze, the stretching of her mouth as air became too precious and small, the quiver of her body, the rock of it against her bonds as she began to jerk against his hand. When two of his fingers slid inside of her, emulating the act of his cock while his thumb stroked and massaged her clit, she could hardly bear to hold his gaze, though it was such a pleasure to look on his face, get lost in it instead of what she must look like.
“You look like the most fuckable thing in the history of the world,” he said, his gaze ablaze with heat. “Obey me now, Elisa. You come for me. Spurt your honey over my fingers; clamp down on them.”
She couldn’t stop herself. The climax swept over like a tidal wave and though she kept her eyes on his face as he commanded, it was a struggle, because her cries became a scream. The arched position of her body made her completely helpless to him as he kept teasing, pumping, massaging, stroking, holding her chin up so he could see how it all affected her, every tear and quiver, the terror and pleasure of it at once rocketing through her.
She wanted to eat him alive. If she were free, she’d leap upon him, lick and bite until he rolled her under him, pinning her down and taking charge once again, overwhelming her with his strength and will.
It took forever to come down, and when she did, she wondered if anyone else was in the house.
Mal put his mouth to the corner of hers. “I hope the whole damn staff was in here, so they could hear how well you served me. How you belong to me.”
Served him? But he’d given
her
all the pleasure, hadn’t he? And taken none for himself.
her
all the pleasure, hadn’t he? And taken none for himself.
Elisa, there are many things that give a vampire pleasure. Nothing pleases us so much as surrender.
He was freeing her bonds, but her legs were shaking so badly, she was afraid she might topple over. She needn’t have worried. He released her hands but then rebound her wrists together and lifted her in his arms.
He was freeing her bonds, but her legs were shaking so badly, she was afraid she might topple over. She needn’t have worried. He released her hands but then rebound her wrists together and lifted her in his arms.
Other books
Claimed by Stacey Kennedy
Inseparable Bond by David Poulter
Chris Ryan by The One That Got Away
Ferine Apocalypse (Novella): 4 Hours by Leonard, John F.
Doug Unplugs on the Farm by Dan Yaccarino
Jacks and Jokers by Matthew Condon
Forbidden Entry by Sylvia Nobel
Love's Tangle by Goddard, Isabelle
Drowned Hopes by Donald Westlake
