The rain had just stopped falling outside the tent as he tightened her bonds and blindfold. With her wrists tied above her head to the ceilinging ridge pole and her ankles spread and tied to stakes driven into the ground, she could barely move. That thrice damned charm of weakening keeps her as weak as any human. This vampire hunter has her at his mercy as the bite gag in her mouth keeps her from sinking her fangs into his throat and the blindfold from her taking control of his mind.
Why doesn’t he stake her and be done with it. Or, if he couldn’t stomach “riding the wood” into a woman, all he would have to do is open the tent to the morning’s sky and she would be dust. Why delay? She hears the blade being drawn, the sharp “sheeng” as it tastes the air. “So it’s to be decapitation,” she thinks, and is wrong. The blade doesn’t cut her flesh, but rather, it lightly cares it as it probes under the light shift she wears. And then a straight cut, a ripping of fabric and she standsnude, helpless in the control of the mortal. Again she feels the blade as it touches her, follow her curves, explores her body, a lover’s kiss by the cold metal. The blade is withdrawn and next she feels the warmth of human flesh as a hand takes up the search. Then she feels the teeth as they sink into her. Not the teeth of a fellow nightr, but a round-tooth! The bites! Oh the bites! And the tongue as he covers her entire body. He squeezes and pinches her nipples, bites her tighs,vagina, and cliporis and then, stops. It is then she feels the first bite of a new lover, the whip! It burns across her ass and legs, as holy water has never burned before, it bites deep as and as longingly into her skin as a newborn nightr on it’s first kill. What pain! What pleasure! A throbbing begins in her groin, is this the heaven the mortals speak of or is it hell? She arches her back with each stroke. A moan escapes the gag.
“Yes, my dear. I see you understand now,” says her captor . “Manyof my pets couldn’t endure the journeys I would wish to undertake and so I was left frustrated and unfulfilled, until I learned of your kind. Until I learned of you.”
He reaches up, she feels the heat of his hand near her face, hears the pulse and pounding of his blood as it goes through his wrist. She smells the scent of the living as he touches her face, then strokes her hair. Suddenly, he fills his hand with it, wraps it around his fist, and pulls back her head, exposing her neck as she has done to so many of her prey. He laughs. A slow, hatty laugh, so like her Sire, her Master. So in control.
“Let’s see those pretty teeth, shall we?” Still holding her head back he starts to loosen the ball and rope.
“My Master Sire will come for me and you will die,” she says, when the gag was removed. He plays his finger across her teeth and traps her jaw in his vice-like grip when she tries to bite.
“I think not, my pretty one. I am not anything, if not through and your ‘Sire’ has, I dare say, ‘seen the light’. Oh , how does that scene go, ‘What light through yon window breaks, it is the dawn and Juliet is the sun’. And another lash is laid across her hips . Another thrill goes thru her. She starts to hunger. Not the hunger for blood that she has long known. She hungers for the next touch, the next singing lash, the next pain that makes her feel…alive! Yes! Alive, she feels it, life, the pain, the anguish, she knows now, she understands. To truly live is to feel the pain, embrace it, even welcome it as once she welcomed the coming of the night. He has brought her life!
He introduces her to the crop and the rope and the cat of nine. She learns quickly to love the feeling of the brained riding crop as it smokes against her tights or is drawn through the valley of her maidenhood, the roughness of the tightening hemp as it entwines her limbs, and the stings of the cat as it rakes her bare white skin. Later, he gives her some release, then, kindness,comfort, a place to rest. And to her surprise, blood. Once she thought it the ruby, velvet wine of life. Now it is only food .
“Do you understand now, my little one?” ask he.
“Yes, my master,” says she.
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