21 Shades of Night, page 425
Giving her no warning whatsoever, he brought the strap down. A loud crack resonated through the night air, followed by a shocked gasp. Giving her a minute to process the stinging slap, he ran a single finger down the line he had made. His huntress tried to remain stoic and bit down on her lip, not wanting to give him the pleasure of hearing her moan. Little did she know, but he wasn't going to stop until he heard her scream in pleasure, so he wasn't in the least bit worried about her holding back a few petulant whimpers.
Bringing the belt back up, he let his hand feel the long length of worn leather in an almost reverent fashion. He knew she had bitten her lip in order not to cry out, but it was early days yet.
He counted to three and let the belt fly once again. It was another sharp slap and this time he was rewarded with a hiss. He pressed his fingertips down into the fresh pink stripe to see if he'd done the job properly. She gave him a strangled moan, which she cut off almost as soon as she had uttered it, but it was enough. Giving her no time to recover her wits, he let the belt loose once more.
When the belt sank its teeth into her ass for the third time, he managed to get a curse out of her. It was a pretty innocuous one, but he suspected she'd get more inventive the longer he continued. For now he allowed her a small break to compose herself while he feasted his eyes upon her striped rear. Three blazing lines were beginning to surface, and knowing he was the one who had put them there was very satisfying indeed.
'Did they sting, precious?' He didn't receive an answer to his query, but it hardly mattered as he already knew the answer. Just to make sure, he ran a hand over one of the blossoming streaks of pale pink flesh. Hearing the strangled invective she tried so hard to hide was music to his ears.
'Now I shall find out if that nubile body of yours is hot for mine. You just stand there while I go check, chérie. At her infuriated roar, he chuckled and to fuel the flames of her ire, he placed both of his very talented hands down upon her - hands that knew how to play a woman. They could perform a slow, sensuous rhumba or a fast and intense salsa; for that matter, they could execute the whole of Rachmaninov's third piano concerto, if he were so inclined, but for tonight it would have to be short and sweet. They had an agenda to complete and he wanted her to be firmly secreted away in his mountain mansion before the sun released its potent morning rays upon them.
Letting his fingers walk up the insides of her splayed legs, he bent over slowly and pressed his soft lips into one of the rosy stripes. The mewl she emitted was choked and confused. She had expected it to hurt, but he sensed she was surprised to find the sensation was actually quite pleasant. Violetta had a lot to learn about her body and he would be more than happy to teach her. He was going to have a double dose of fun with this one. He would train her to slather at his feet first as a human before rebirthing her in his own image as a vampire, that which she despised and hated. Then he could have the ultimate revenge - for the huntress would become the hunted. Maybe he could even give those friends of hers a call to finish her off. It would be a fitting demise for his most hated enemy, killed by those she once loved.
Letting his teeth scrape along the raised line of the belt mark, he began to slide his hands further up her legs. Moving with teasing slowness, his fingers rubbed little swirls into the wonderfully yielding flesh of her supple, inner thighs. He smiled as he felt her jaws clamp down upon a soft little moan of pleasure. He had a feeling she wouldn't manage to keep those delightful little sounds hidden for much longer. Working gradually towards his goal, his fingers luxuriated in the soft mass of red curls he found at the apex of her sex. Barely kissing her with his fingertips, he knew she felt it as he’d let himself sink deep into her mind. He also knew she would have given anything to escape his wandering hands, and that, in his eyes, made the torment far more gratifying.
Cupping her sex and cradling the heat he found there was an almost divine experience. There was another hiss and she gave him a baleful glare, but he wasn't the least bit interested in her face. Two of his fingers formed a two-pronged fork and were aiming for her labia, doling out tiny little flutters of movement. They then progressed to a firmer intensity before he began caressing the lips intently, feeling them swell underneath his fingertips.
Interestingly enough, when he was anchored in the minds of most humans, he found a need to distance himself from the constant babble of chatter they felt necessary to process on an almost endless basis. Inane, useless chatter for the most part, which could drive a lesser man insane. With Violetta, however, he found himself wanting to know what she was thinking, what she felt at each touch he might choose to bestow upon her, and he wanted to be there, inside her, when she reached that magical pinnacle that would force her to lose some of that rigid control that she tried so hard to maintain.
His forked fingers dipped into the valley that surrounded her clitoris and performed and intimate dance that would do little but frustrate her. He slid forward and back, again and again, until he detected in her an urge to buck her hips in time with his delicate ministrations. Allowing her the privilege of that one small movement, knowing that the action would madden, humiliate, and tease her senseless, he continued on the warpath he had forged. Employing soft, sinuous caresses to some of the more intimate parts of her body, he knew it wouldn't be long before her voice would resurface. Whether she would plead for relief or beg for him to stop remained to be seen, but it would be interesting to find out. In any case, it was time to up the ante. Applying the most delicate touch to the tiny little nub between the apex of her thighs, he waited to see what would happen.
In the end, the result was almost comical. Her eyes bulged, her breath caught, and she made a gurgling sound in the back of her throat. He could almost feel the pressure behind her eyelids as they burst open in shock. Hearing the enraged expletive that rattled inside her head, unable to find its way out, was most pleasing - but her next words, when she finally managed to get them past the confines of her lips, were even better.
'Please stop.' They were a mere whisper of sound, pained and desperate, and truly a delight to behold.
'You mean to tell me that you don't like this?' His voice held a mocking, incredulous tone. Pressing harder with his fingers and working her clit a little faster, he made it clear that he wanted a reply but added a little push for good measure.
'I... I...'
Violetta's head was a jumble of turbulent emotions that were being tossed around in a spin cycle filled with the drug desire. She didn't know which way was up, had no idea what her body was doing or what it might be capable of. Drowning in a sea of tantalising fingers that worshipped her flesh by sliding and slipping everywhere they could, she had no way of fighting him. She was completely lost.
So, the signs were encouraging, Martinet thought, as he swam deep inside her head. She had all the markings of an untried, and taking her virginity from her would be the icing on top of an already very chocolaty cake. He was almost bursting with exhilaration at the prospect of her downfall. He wanted to rub his hands in glee. Good grief, it had been years since he'd performed a 'Virgin Conversion', so to speak, and this time he could have some real fun.
'Would you like me to introduce you to the little death, chérie? Watching you dance upon my fingers would be a wonderful sight to behold, would it not?'
'Get. Off. Me.' His lioness roared her malcontent at his treatment of her and he had to bite his lip in order not to laugh out loud and spoil the moment. Keeping his mirth in check was difficult, though. Her hips wanted to waggle enticingly, beckoning to be used, her buttocks itched to sway, and the ends of her ball-gown looked particularly endearing wrapped around her ears.
Thrusting a single finger inside her, he delighted in the fact that it was immediately coated in a sweet, hot liquid musk. Whilst her level of arousal was hardly breaking news to him, the thin layer of her hymen, which prevented him from extending his long middle finger to its greatest potential, was. How incredible. He could barely believe his luck. Here was a complete novice, absolutely clueless in the ways and workings of love, and he could train her untutored body to please him in any way he chose. A wicked smile lit up his face. The big bad wolf had ensnared Miss Hood, and hell if he wasn't going to eat her from the inside out. Patience might need to be employed at first, alas, but good things came to those who waited, and he had waited longer than most.
While his finger gently pumped inside her delightfully tiny channel, he let his thumb tickle her clit. A few pleasant pulsations to start and then he would begin the fight to the 'little death', for he knew without doubt that she would fight him with everything she had. No matter that she found him extremely attractive or that her body responded in a primal, elemental way to his - she would know exactly what submitting to him would mean: the loss of her family and, most probably, the loss of her life. It would simply make his victory all the sweeter, for she was fighting the inevitable.
Choosing that moment to release his control over her body, he observed that she barely noticed she was once again her own woman. She would figure it out in a few minutes. He wasn't worried. She was too far gone to run, and at this moment in time, her body was an instrument of pleasure that only he could play. Letting his thumb state its intentions, he moved it faster and harder. As he watched her legs, it didn't take long before both her thighs had developed a subtle but noticeable quiver. After another thirty seconds of his 'heaven and back' thumb action, it would progress to an earthquake-size tremor. The girl was panting, her fists were furled into tight knots, and he was surprised she hadn't managed to drop her precious little tube. He knew she still harboured a strong wish to throw it at him, but his fingers could prove very distracting when employed with the right precision.
'Have you ever had an orgasm before, Vi?' This time he didn't voice the question out loud but merely let it echo around a few corners inside her head. It would annoy her more.
'That's none of your goddamn business,' she replied in the same telepathic manner, but with a good deal more volume. Cute. It appeared she was a fast learner. He could only hope her talents would be equally skilful in other areas.
'I don't think you have, Vi, and isn't that the shocker? You have no idea what you've been missing, but the good news is you're about to find out.' His free hand snaked across her chest and reached under the almost transparent lilac organza of her dress. He inveigled his way under the satiny camisole beneath and found a succulent breast hiding between its many folds. His efforts were rewarded as his fingers brushed against a nipple that had already burst free from its protective shell. Closing his fingers around the pointed peak, he pulled gently. His body rocked with hers as he felt a heady zing of pleasure shoot straight down to her core. She was close now. It wouldn't take much to send her flying through the gates of delirium. Feeling her struggles beneath him confirmed his suspicions. Legs kicked out, arms flailed, and shoulders tried to wrench themselves free of his tight hold - to no avail. He had a vicelike grip upon her and intended to see his little experiment all the way through to the end.
Removing his hand from its very snug resting place, he reached for the belt again. She needed a distraction and this would help. Keeping one hand busy between her legs, he used the belt to rain down soft slaps across her buttocks and thighs. It was an awkward position, but that was the upside of being a vampire. He could hold any position for hours and not feel the slightest bit of discomfort. Well, anywhere except inside his pants, perhaps. There was plenty of discomfort there, and would be for a few hours yet, he suspected. He'd have the problem taken care of one way or another.
As her backside came into flower, sporting a beautiful shade of peony pink, he watched her squirm madly to avoid the gentle slaps. They were nothing more than annoyances and there was no real bite to them, but she wouldn't be able to concentrate very carefully while he continued to heap them down upon her. They would help spread a slow burn throughout her body. Keeping up a measured pace and watching as her hips surged forward in pleasure, he monitored her carefully. He attuned himself to her pulse, her blood pressure, and her rapidly increasing breathing rate. For a virgin, she was incredibly wet. Trying his hardest to squeeze three of his fingers inside her, he found himself grateful for her copious lubrication. Stretching her wide open, with slow little thrusts, he knew there would be a little work involved to get her ready for his cock. When he got her back to his cliff-side palace, or prison, as it would forever remain to her, they'd play about with a few of his toys. Start small and work your way upwards, that was his motto, and his humble home, Oscura Dimora, had quite the collection of toys, and everything else they would need for her training. Or should that be taming?
Her head was a jumble of thoughts. Nothing was particularly coherent. He heard various things, of course: her need to avoid the stinging slap of his belt, her wonder at the intense sensations spiralling rapidly out of control inside her, and the powerful hatred she harboured for him and his kind. That last thought he intended to nurture. She'd think he was the anti-Christ by the time he'd finished with her.
His fingers finally sank as far as they could go without taking her precious virginity. They'd save that for later. When Martinet heard her cry out in a keening wave of pleasure as his thumb raced around her clit, he knew it was time. He let the belt fall from his hands and it nestled in the dark grass with barely a sound. Taking from his trouser pocket the small silver dagger he'd misappropriated from her earlier attempt to kill him, he slowly ran the cold length of metal down her arm, gently scoring her flesh, wondering what she would do. If he'd timed the moment accurately enough, and with his fingers doing their worst, she would barely feel it. If he hadn't, she might well snatch the instrument out of his hand and prepare to dance with him. The blade reached her wrist and he pressed the point into her radial artery. Her eyelids fluttered close, but not due to the blade. It seemed she hadn't even noticed it. Her whole being was concentrated on one teeny, tiny sexual organ. That suited his purposes perfectly. Running the knife slowly back up the naked flesh of her arm, past her elbow joint, before letting the blade slide over her shoulder blade, he manoeuvred the sharpened point to the carotid artery in her neck. She didn't have a clue what he was doing. The blade did not register at all in her brain and as he neared one of the most important arteries in her body, that which fed the brain with succulently laden, oxygen-rich blood, he could have put an end to her life with one simple slice. It wouldn't be particularly quick or painless, and it would be very messy, but it demonstrated just how breakable humans were and why they shouldn't be messing around with the likes of his kind. He drew the blade back just seconds, a few scant seconds before his huntress would climax, and the urge to kill her was strong. All those deaths she had caused. All those friends she had murdered. His eyes saw a thick curtain of red wash down upon them and he felt himself filled with rage. What a fitting end to her career this would be! A death similar to those she herself had doled out with frightening regularity, and which gave her little cause for remorse. The girl had no conscience apparently, but that was fine because neither did he. He stabbed his blade forward as she began writhing and convulsing underneath his talented fingers. The 'little death' was a fitting term indeed.
Chapter 5
Blood
THE SMELL OF blood was one of the few things that could make his concentration waver. All vampires could be driven insane with the scent if they were hungry, and he had not fed in over a week. This was not particularly dangerous for one as old as himself, but the urge to tear into Violetta's neck and sink his fangs into the veins beneath was strong. He held himself in check. He had already reined in the urge to kill the girl, merely stabbing a tiny nick on the top of her shoulder blade, and he was now waiting for the blood to run so he could coat her shiny blade with it. Then she could send her friends home happy in the knowledge that an old coot such as himself had been exterminated from the face of the earth. There would be much rejoicing in the land, although Violetta wouldn't be doing a happy dance any time soon. For one thing, her arm was in tatters, and for another, she'd be tied up in his bedroom - awaiting the whims of her captor. Him.
For some reason, the area around the shoulder bled particularly well. Perhaps it was due to its proximity to either the brain or the prominent artery in the neck, but in any case, it did not take long before a small river of blood was flowing down her back, and whilst it smelled rather delicious, he really couldn't have that at this moment in time. Using the flat of her blade, he liberally coated it in the oozing scarlet ribbons, before dropping it to the ground. The sticky blood wasn't going anywhere, but if he didn't staunch the flow, her dress would be ruined, and when she re-entered the ballroom, the hunters would know something was amiss. Applying fierce pressure to the entry point of the wound, he cursed when he realised he had stabbed her with a little more force than had been absolutely necessary. He had managed to get carried away in the heat of the moment. Unable to remember the last time that had happened, he swore a second time. It would not happen again or his plans would be for nothing.
Feeling his fangs begin to fill his mouth with the intoxicating, metallic tang of blood scenting the air, he knew it wouldn't be long before he could heal her wound. He just needed a couple of seconds. His hunger was so acute that his venom would be released shortly, and he was not to be disappointed. Feeling the first droplet drip down onto his tongue, he scooped his right index finger inside his mouth to collect it. When he applied the tiny drop quickly to her puncture wound, the blood flow stopped almost instantly. She still had no idea what had happened, but as she turned her newly awakened, lust-filled eyes around to meet his, he saw her fury there and realised he hadn't managed to achieve his initial objective. In her hand, she still had a fierce grip on the bottle of holy water and she was currently preparing to throw it at him. Again. Maybe he wasn't quite as good as he thought he was.
