*Trigger warning. Themes of non-consent, extreme circumstances, and fantastical elements play out in this story.*
I sat there bruised black and blue, staring into his eyes. No longer because I had no choice to, but because shock overcame me. His eyes demanded my attention, his warmth demanded recognition, and the threat of his strength seized into my flesh. I could no longer look away. He in that moment, dismantled me. It was the love in his eyes. How could his cruelty hold love? Yet it was unmistakable. It was as if he truly believed this was the only way for me to see him. By breaking me. By ruining me, by torturing me, by threatening me. He wasn’t doing this to me out of hate or revenge, he was doing it to prove his love. How odd. But it’s oddness invoked something within me. I do not know if it was Because of the shock and the lack of sleep, all the humiliation and the pressure of extreme consequences. I do not know but I feel within me a box struck open. Something withinme made no sense, yet it pieced together my soul, it made it whole. I feel within me pain and devotion come and meet at hell’s end, at death’s curve, where there was nothing left. Yet in that nothingness, was not emptyness or loneliness, it was instead everything. Like everything all came together and became nothing in it’s purest form, it all became one. As if this is how the world should actually feel. Till now I had Only been experiencing bits and pieces of my consciousness, but now I feel it all at once and yet nothing at all.
Then questions silently began flooding my mind. How could he still be in love with me after all the time that’s passed? Why would he think that this is how he’d get through to me? Why did he think this is the way I would see what I’ve always missed within me? Most Importantly, how did he know to do this? To be this way for me?
I had been looking at this all wrong. My capture wasn’t revenge or a mark of his cruelty to taint my soul, or simply to overthrow me for more power in his repertoire. It was instead to prove his love. But this doesn’t look like love. This is cruel and brutal. Why does it then feel like it? Why does it then feel so real, so utterly and brutally marked in devotion? Not even devotion to himself as I would’ve presumed it be. No this is devotion…to me.
My mind’s all messed up, I can’t think about this Anymore, it hurts my head and my heart. I’ll think on this more once I can rest, only the Gods know when that will be. Considering he plans to give me even more brutality after these quickly fleeting moments. However, for now something within me relaxes, something slows down. Some warms through me, and my eyes become softer. Time begins to move slower. His eyes burn through me and I let them. I let him in through the windows of my soul. I do not know what I am feeling. What wickedness my own body and soul is craving to experience. My eyes wetting, clouding my vision, but I am here. I am more presentthan I have been in a long time, here in this moment.
Everything fades to black…
I open my eyes, the hunger floods me. Oh I am hungry, so damn voracious for blood. I jump, looking around to recognize what is happening. All the memories of what happened flood through me. All the events, the pain, the brokenness within me that now hurts somewhere with every breath. The realization dawns that I am no longer Queen. Last thing I remember is Drrahven telling me I belong to him, with eyes full of warmth..and love.
I look at my body, scanning my surroundings. It’s dark here, so dark I can barely make out the shapes of my own arms and legs. I get up, beginning to walk and immediately feel myself sharply pulled back. Realizing the heaviness on my arms and legs wasn’t due to simply my tiredness and beats but rather the strength of metal chains holding me captive.
I take a breath, trying to design a plan. I was trained for this, trained to get through, if ever the caseoccurred, of being overthrown and captive. First though, I need to know where I am. I suspect these are my own palace dungeons. I hear steps and the quickness to them give away “vampyre”. Hmm wonder who that could be. A light flickers reflecting off the metal bars, revealing that I am indeed in my own palace dungeons.
I see his broad shoulders, he always had the build of a tyrant. The Vampyre Lord is back to torture the captive queen I suppose. I brush away the emotions bubble to the surface. Emotions of what I experienced at his hands before I blacked out. Love or what ever it was. It had no place when the monster that was now entering the cell was just that. A monster.
I put on a straight face, ready to deal with whatever he brings to me next -whatever he puts me through next. I will remember this, I will imprint his cruelty into my mind. I will become justice, I will become karma.
He pulls on the metal chain attached to the heavy metal collar around my neck. Jerking me up. Pulling my face up to his. Those damn eyes, such gorgeous eyes. Fantasizing about my captor and torturer? Clearly I’ve lost my mind.
“Did you sleep well? hmm I didn’t think you deserved your comforts anymore. Soft pillows, the aesthetics and all. I inspected your room, you’ve been spoiled rotten love. I much prefer you like this,” He chuckled. Love? He called me what!? Keeping me tiptoed, he pulls me even closer to his lips. The monster brushes my cheek with his thumb and his eyes roaming my face, “So much more real, needy, sexy, and entirely open to whatever your Master graces you with. Such beauty and it all belongs to me to do with at whim whatever, whenever, however I want. So much better this way, Isn’t that right my little bird?”
“How dare you in my hom-” I hear ringing in my ear, my face burning. He slapped me as I began to speak.
“Did I say you could speak little bird? Hmm?”
“I don’t give a fucking damn what you thin-” He slapped me again, in the same spot but somehow harder. I feel my flesh rise, swelling at his assault.
Anger floods me. The sheer disrespect pushes me. I forget about my little flower, my lover who is safe, who’s life I can not jeopardize with my actions. I forget about existence. Somehow in this darkness there is only me and this monster. There is no beginning, no end, no past, and no future. Just the present. Just the now. Just the disrespect. I’m pushed to descend my fangs, I’m pushed to clap my legs around his waist, jumping onto him, sering into the flesh of his neck. I am pushed to drain his life force. Everything in me screams for vengeance. I need to feel his blood begin to satisfy my hunger and my anger.
He pushes me to the dungeon wall and I let out a groan from the pain, but not letting go of his neck. My fangs sunk into him, still draining him. I don’t care what happens next. I have lost my mind, might as well lose it entirely, let it all go. The future doesn’t exist right now. Beatme all he may, I am prepared, come what may. I’ll figure it out. This Queen is no coward.
He grabs me by the hair, forcing my head away from his oozing neck. He brings me again to face him. To my shock, he kisses me. I was not expecting this. What the hell is he doing? Why is he doing this? Just torture me and get it over with, but don’t fucking kiss me, don’t look at me with love? Don’t play with my mind this way. Why are you doing this to me Drrahven.
He pushes his tongue into my mouth, demanding to be acknowledged, to be known, to be reciprocated. Demanding and threatening my attention. I give in, I kiss him back. I begin to dominate the song his tongue is playing with mine and feel the sharp grap of his hand come up around my throat. Making it known to me, it is not allowed. But when have I followed the rules? I continue and receive a jolt of pain as he bites down on my tongue. I nearly scream but manage to keep it to myself. It feels as though my tongue will fall off if I open my mouth. But something about it is satisfying. Something about being faced with restriction and immediate punishment upon crossing a limit is satisfying. Something about there being a limit is satisfying.
I groan, unable to keep the pain silently. Drrahven in a low and wicked tone, hums in approval. He continues to kiss me, forcing my now numb and assaulted tongue to follow his lead. He breaks off the kiss. I see storms swirl in his eyes, dark wicked storms.
He descends his fangs, making sure I can see him do so. He moves his head to the side of my neck, kissing it gently. I’m convinced he’s trying to confuse me. I just saw his sharp fangs but felt a gentle kiss instead when I braced myself for more pain. He continues to kiss the spot in the curve of my neck. Relaxing into it, I allow myself to feel him continue.
Reaching my ear, he whispers, “Ask your King to drink what only he has the right to.”
My eyes open wide, memories of times long gone. A time when I would ask him “My Prince would you like to drink what only you have the right to?” but back then he never did, no matter how many times, in how ever many creative ways I asked. He never bleed me at his hands or his fangs. Not even a nibble. He was gentle…too gentle.
“You are not my king. I am captive, a prisoner. That is all I am, and you are my captor, that is all you are,” I say with conviction.
He faces me and brings his hand to my mouth, using his fingers to squeeze both sides of my lips. Making my lips jut out harshly, “Spoken out of line again. You will learn respect and manners soon enough little bird. For now, out of my mercy for a new pet, I’ll say it for you. My king will you mercy this disobedient slave and drink from your little bird, what only you have the right to. Please my Master, please my King, I beg you my King, Please grace this slave and allow it to be thy drink. Please, pleaseee oh please drink from your slave, your grace,”
My lips betraying me in his hand, moving to his will as he uses his voice to mimic sound coming from them. I look at him disgusted, hate fuels me, but somewhere… so does something warm.
He brings his hand away from my mouth and slaps me. Then pushes three fingers down my throat, “I think you’re enjoying this, infact I think you’re enjoying every moment of this. I think my little bird wants this more than anything, the smell of your arousal has never changed,” He chuckles as my cheeks fire from not the singing but instead the shame. Vampyres, we have an excellent sense of smell. He can smell what my body can not lie about; therefore, he can smell the truth, without ever having to ask for it. He can hear my heart beat without ever having to put his ear to it.
His fingers still down my throat, unrelenting while I gag. I see his fangs and a dark smile that sends a shiver down my spine. I can see the glint in his eyes, even with the subtle candle light. The look on his face tells me heis taking pleasure in every moment of this. That he expected this to go exactly the way it is going. As if he anticipated all of my decisions. As if he planned this for years, accounting for every breath and every move. He bites into my neck, but this time I feel a warmth. The pain sears itself into pleasure. I feel used, dirty, and somehow lush and adorned. I feel that warmth go from my heart, down into my pussy, and rush up to my face. Tears begin to stream as my eyes roll back in invitation. I give in to this moment. I let him drink from me. A moan escapes me, not out of pain, but out of having an unmet need, met. From having an unmet hunger met.
I find the strength within me as I feel myself weakening from the blood loss, to push through, to save this. to find pleasure in moments like these, until I can make my escape. I hear him moan as if he heard me, as though he could feel my body invite him in for pleasure. To feel his intensity, to feel his warmth as my own.
Drrahven withdraws his fangs and licks the side of my neck clean, my vampyre healing already nurses the wound back to health. I feel my hair pulled uncomfortable, forcing my head to tilt back. Drrahven licks the front of my neck, leaving bloody and painful kisses up to my ear, “My little pet, isn’t that right? Little bird I believe it’s time for a lesson on how to address your King Appropriately.”
What I was feeling a few moments ago tends into hatred and the anger bright wishes nothing more than to lash out. How dare he. He will never be my King. Only my captor.
To be continued…
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