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“When did you do this?” I ask.
“Last night after you fell asleep.”
I open my eyes to slits, inspecting her. “Didn’t you sleep?”
A shadow of pain flashes across her face, almost invisible but not to my vampire eyes. “I don’t sleep much.”
When my eyes trail over the side-table beside her, they come to rest on the stump of a joint sitting in the ashtray.Already?
She gets up and wanders out of the room while leaving me to admire the sunlight, saying she’ll come back with tea. I feel like a toddler who has never seen the sun before – I just can’t believe it, running my hands through the light over and over again. Too late I hear the click of a camera shutter.
“Hey!” I say as I see Celeste in the doorway holding a camera. “What is this?”
“Purely for scientific documentation,” she replies, though there is a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’d have to dig through my books but you might be the first vampire to ever touch sunlight!”
I cover my face as she raises the camera again, feeling silly.
Once she has her scientific proof, she sets the camera aside and picks up a tray with tea she left by the door. After setting it down, she sinks back into her chair and watches me bask in the sunshine, my eyes closed to enjoy the bright orange behind my eyelids, something I never thought I’d miss.
When I open my eyes, Celeste extends her hand in an expectant gesture and my body trails over to her almost on its own. She holds me at arm's length, her eyes wandering slowly over my curves. As if touched by her gaze, my skin breaks out into goosebumps, my nipples pressing hard against the thin fabric of my chemise. Embarrassed by my visceral reaction to her closeness, I cross my arms across my chest as if to hide.
She smiles contentedly when she sees the blue bruises on my thighs, in the shape and formation of her fingertips. With one finger she slides up the fabric to follow her little trail of destruction. The other hand undoes the crossing of my arms, pulling my wrists down to my side. She inspects the bruises on my backside, the scratches on my shoulderblades. Bitemarks mark my chest and neck.
Having worked my chemise all the way up to my collarbones, she says, “Bruises look pretty on you.”
With flushed cheeks I grab the fabric and pull it the rest of the way over my head. She smiles wryly and draws me onto her lap.
It’s different from last night – she’s gentle, almost sweet as her hands work their way over my body. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, gasping quietly to the rhythm of her fingers curled inside me. I’m still raw, so every thrust is a little reminder of the humiliation and ecstasy of the previous night.
“How do they make you feel?”
What? Is she still talking about the bruises?I don’t want to talk right now. I want her to speed up and make me finish.
“I'm talking to you, Deni.” Her voice has a warning undertone. The fingers of the hand holding me in place find my nipple and squeeze.
I let out an irritated groan.What does she want to hear?“Good,” I pant, trying to hide the frustration in my tone. I roll my hips in the hopes it will encourage her to speed up.
Instead, she twists my nipple harder, tugging on it.
I grunt. “I… I don’t know, great?” The pain only gets worse. “Dirty? What do you want from me?”
The rhythm of her hand remains steady, though this conversation has begun to thoroughly ruin my enjoyment of it.
“I want to know how the marks make you feel,” she repeats, her breath warm against my ear.
Ugh.I straighten up and let my head role back, eyes closed. The sun falls over my face, heating my skin ever so slightly, tinging the inside of my eyelids orange and yellow. Dizzy from her touch, I try to think about her question rather than what I think she wants to hear. I blush. The answer is not something that feels appropriate to say to someone I know so little.
“They make me feel like… like you own me. Like I’m athingthat exists only to please you.”
Rather than laughing at me, like I had almost expected – don’t we barely know each other? – she sighs. “That’s right, little girl. You’re mine now.”
I moan, biting my lip. All that pleasure that I thought she ruined comes rushing back. I can feel myself tightening around her fingers.
“How do you like being owned?”
I’m far beyond being able to form a coherent sentence. “I… Yes…” My words dissolve into unintelligible gasping and whimpering as the wave of my pleasure crests. I shudder and collapse into her arms, languishing in her kisses as I slowly come back to earth.
***
