How to Discipline Your Vampire (12 page)

Starting with his wrists—the part peeking through the rope. Normally, wrists aren’t good for anything aside from watches or shackles, but William’s were pieces of art. His muscles and tendons were taut beneath his smooth, cool skin. I ran my fingers over this beautiful body part, and moved on quickly when my subconscious told me I should feel a pulse beneath that satiny skin.
What do I know
? I asked myself,
I’m a geisha, not a doctor. Ignore it.

I moved on to his calves. Now, once in a while, watching sports, I may or may not notice a man’s calves, but William’s legs were absolutely gorgeous. They were long and lanky, with just enough curve to them. His muscles were well defined without being muscle-bound. He was Nature’s perfection; he was Adam and he was the apple. He was pure temptation.

“I want you to talk to me, William. Tell me about your first fantasy about me,” I said, parting my kimono and preparing to ride him.

“As you wish, sweet Cherry,” he said, voice thick with desire. I smiled at how bad he wanted it. I bit my lip, awaiting his story.

“In my mind, you were wearing a black kimono, as dark as night,” he said, managing to keep his composure as I lowered myself down, down, down, until he was completely inside me. I swirled my hips, adjusting to his hard body.

I started to rock back and forth as he spoke. “I wanted you so badly, it felt wrong. A lowly man such as myself could never have you. The kimono was so sheer, I could almost make out your delicate figure beneath. I wanted to run my fingers over every single curve of your body,” he confessed.

I quickened my pace, desire building fast. Almost too fast. His voice was absolutely hypnotic. “Why didn’t you? It’s your fantasy, servant.”
Tell me more, you gorgeous fiend.
I gripped the rope at his hips and swirled my hips slowly. He panted.

“I didn’t deserve you, even in my fantasy. All I could bring myself to do at first was to kiss your feet.”

My body was on fire as I writhed in passion on top of him. He was so motionless beneath me, doing exactly as I asked, just being there for me to use.

He was such a good boy; perhaps he could have a reward later.

“Tell me more.”

He drew a ragged breath. “Then I licked your calf all the way to your knee, up and down, and you asked me to move farther up your legs.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” escaped from my mouth. “What else, William? Please, more,” I moaned, nearly thrashing on top of his prone form.

“Yes, geisha,” he said with a labored breath. “In my dream, you opened your robe just enough to allow my eyes to see a thin strip of flesh down the middle of the kimono. You . . . you allowed me a peek at your gorgeous body. You opened the robe a fraction more, showing me an inch of skin that went . . . all the way down.”

I was very, very close. He was completely consuming me from inside, and I could barely take any more pressure. “Did you like what you saw?” I cooed, running my hands over my body, undoing my robe and touching myself since he couldn’t.

“It was nothing compared to seeing your body in the flesh,” he explained, slowly, “but yes.”

I knew he was keeping something from me. “Servant, what did you do to me in your fantasy?” I managed to say.

He groaned, and I sped up. “Something I’m not worthy of, Cherry Blossom,” he said, nearly whimpering.

“What did you want to do to me?” I begged, on the verge of orgasm.

He trembled beneath me, seemingly ready to come, but holding back like I had asked. “I
tasted
you,” he growled.

Those words sent me over the edge, imagining William with his face between my legs. I ground myself onto him as fiercely as I could, coming violently and biting down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. My body shook from the William-induced earthquake. “Too—fucking—good,” I whined.

My hands scooted the kimono back on my body as I came down from the high. After a moment, I regained my composure, dismounted quickly, and began the task of removing William’s ropes.

He smiled placidly as I untied his wrists. He made a motion to wrap up the discarded rope, but I signaled that I would do it. He laced his hands behind his head and hummed softly, satisfied without satisfaction. He was still very erect, but from his face, I could tell he was still sated just from the experience alone.

“You deserve something for your obedience today, enduring your punishment,” I said to him, red-faced and breathing raggedly. I caressed his jaw and put the coils of ropes to the side.

“Thank you,” he said, without even knowing what he was getting.

I took his long, cold pointer finger and slid it inside me.

“You may have your taste when you get home.”

His gaze challenged me, and I knew there was a part of him that wanted to slide his finger into his mouth right there, and have me watch, but I knew the submissive inside him won. It always did.

Punctual perfectionist to a fault, William stood up immediately after he was freed. I, however, was still panting minutes later, even after I had put away some of the props. “Mistress, I have fresh sushi and sake punch set up in the dining room for you. I’d like to put your furniture back while you eat, if that’s all right. If you’d like something more comfortable to slip into, may I suggest Harvey’s gift of the day?” he asked with a smile.

He opened a small tissue-wrapped garment and held it up for me.

It was a silk bathrobe in the same pattern as the kimono.

I smiled and thanked him, and stepped out into the dining room to have dinner while he cleaned up.

The sushi was impeccable—a nice variety of standard favorites like Negimaki and spicy tuna, along with some creative options with nontraditional fillings and fruit. I inspected the rolls carefully; they were tight and the cuts were clean, as though he had been doing this for years.
Is there anything William can’t do?
I wondered to myself as I took a bite. Again, perfection. This man understood pleasure on so many levels. He was even thoughtful when making sushi. The pairing of avocado with mango and cucumber matched silky consistencies with contrasting tastes. Sweet and salty, smooth and crunchy. He really thought of everything.

I took a long drink and sighed with satisfaction. The sake punch was refreshingly tart, with just enough spike to loosen my muscles. It was all too good. That seems to be the pattern with him—and I wasn’t complaining.

I heard a small and fast scuffling, and not a minute after I had begun to eat, William was by my side asking how the sushi tasted.

I looked at him, puzzled. “Delicious so far, thanks, but shouldn’t you be getting back to putting my furniture back?” I nagged good-naturedly. I was great at nagging—I’d make a great housewife, aside from the whole wife part.

William’s smile froze on his face. “I’m done, obviously,” he said, slightly puzzled.

“How could you possibly have moved an entire room of furniture in the time I’ve eaten one bite?”

He sighed, frustrated. “You didn’t read it,” he said sorrowfully.

“Read what?”

“If you had read my journal, you wouldn’t have to ask about the furniture.”

I took a long drink of punch and weighed my words. “Please sit, William,” I said. He complied, of course.

“I didn’t read it, but not out of disrespect or disinterest,” I said, taking a long breath before my next statement. “I accept you for whoever you are.”

He stood up, almost angrily. “What do you mean?” I hadn’t expected that reaction.

I gestured for him to sit again, and he did . . . albeit reluctantly.

“William, I like what we have, and where it’s going. It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done. I don’t need to read any more about you. I just want to find it out for myself. No journal necessary.” Truthfully, it was hard for me to say that. I was essentially putting my heart on my sleeve, and I wanted to keep it in my robe. But he had an effect on me that I couldn’t deny.

He looked at me for a long moment, and then spoke. He sounded somewhat detached, or conflicted. “Mistress, I’m moved by your sentiment. I’m thrilled that you want to proceed, and that you are enjoying this experience together as much as I am. I have to admit, however, that I think you
need
that information if you want to keep seeing me like this. Honesty, remember?”

I found his stubbornness surprising, yet again. I pressed. “Tell me what you need to tell me, William. I’ll listen. Remember, I said I would take care of you, and if you need to get some things off your chest, then do it.”

He stood and grabbed his keys. “You have to see it for yourself. No amount of my explanations would do the story justice. Please,” he entreated, “read it tonight.”

And in a black whirl, he was out of the kitchen and out of the front door. I sprinted to see my bedroom in perfect order. He had removed the parquet floor and refurnished the entire room in the span of a minute.

As I cheerfully filled out today’s scene card, I knew I could no longer suppress the feeling that had been lingering in my mind ever since we met: William was much more than a man.

I
supposed
I should read that journal now.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cerise

I opened the journal to the first page, and saw that it was dated about six months ago. I flipped to the last entry, making sure I didn’t read any of the actual text, and noticed the date—a few days ago.

This did look like the real deal.

I took a long breath and turned to page one.

November 14, 2011

Dear Journal,

Why did I come back to Philly?

I wish the Pennsylvania coven we were friendly with had just minded their own business instead of meddling with my life. Then again, for a shot at happiness . . . I suppose my decision was justified.

One of the women Steve tried to set me up with—Melissa—had called me a week prior to my visit with some interesting information. She told me that she was friendly with some human women who were Dommes . . . and that she had subbed for one or two members of the Philadelphia BDSM community. I was shocked at her confession, but not completely taken aback. Of the two sisters, Melissa was the most like me—the most submissive. She told me that nobody had a problem with her “peculiar skin” and that there was a chance for some of the Dommes there to do a trial with me.

I was elated.

This was the first real lead I ever had. Perhaps I wouldn’t be judged, or rejected. I had to find out.

I went to a social with Melissa, and hoped for the best. I made a few contacts with several Dommes, but one in particular showed great interest in me. She was a brunette who called herself simply “Mizz” and took me home that night.

Things did not go well. I had excellent restraint and command over my strength, so breaking out of shackles or ropes had never been a problem, but there was one thing that simply wouldn’t work.

As soon as I heard her say the word
plug,
I knew I was done for.
That
simply was not going to go
there
. Physically impossible.

But despite her thirty or so minutes of frustration, she said she would keep me around for something else. I figured that anything could be better than that . . .

So she kept me as her “pretty.” For a few weeks, I’d show up at her house, and she’d just have me stand around and look good. Or she’d dress me up . . . or not at all. Sometimes she’d take me to parties where she would show me off. That was it. Apparently I was good for looks alone. And while I enjoyed the idea of what we were doing, there really wasn’t much else to it. Nothing physical whatsoever, aside from the fact that she sexually assaulted me with her eyes on a daily basis.

After that, I was pretty much attending parties for the chance at an hour or so of play. I’d try to do a scene with some of the other Dommes there that knew Melissa, but the most I ever got accomplished was a little awkward groping or an unsuccessful flogging. It was miserable, being so close to what I wanted and still dealing with rejection. I thanked Melissa for her effort, and was home within a month.

Maybe I need to give up.

William

And then, like a jolt of electricity, a memory shocked and paralyzed my body momentarily. Something Erin said . . . about her friends in Philly. He was a BDSM urban legend down there . . . so this was true. Then again, there was no mention of being an actual vampire, so I didn’t really know what to think. He did use the word
coven,
and that was pretty creepy.

Um, and don’t forget the fact that he moved an entire room of furniture in one minute, coupled with the fact that everything about him screams “different,”
my consciousness taunted me.

Oh well, moving on. I read some more entries that had some family-centered themes, but there was nothing I was really looking for. Nothing of note until relatively recently, when I saw Portsmouth mentioned, so my attention snapped back into place.

February 26, 2012

Dear Journal,

I had always considered this quest for satisfaction to be an act of hunting, but never did I think I would become the hunted. Too bad I wounded the hunter.

Women approach me all the time—this isn’t something new. I just read their body language and instantly make my decision: no. I have to actively look for the type of woman I need, and just because a woman is bold enough to approach me, that doesn’t mean she’s a Domme. And I just can’t imagine sleeping with a woman on equal terms—it’s just not my sexual preference to be on equal footing.

I know what I want, and I’m not ashamed of that inclination.

Well, a Domme approached me last week and saw right through me. Her motions told me her appraisal of me—the way I walked, the way I held myself, even the way I dressed, all told her one thing . . . that I was a single submissive on the prowl.

“I’m Mistress Jenny,” she said, “and I think you and I should get to know each other.” She took my hand and guided me to a small table at the bar. After living in Portsmouth for a few weeks, I found out that the bar Alto was considered a BDSM hotspot, so I went.

“I know your type,” Jenny said before we had even ordered drinks, “and I can see you’re single.”

I didn’t disagree. She seemed very straightforward about what she wanted to do to me. I was in. Within minutes, we were in her car, headed toward her house.

While she wasn’t the prettiest woman I had ever met, I thought for the first time in my life that I was the closest I was going to get to my goal, and that made her attractive. Sort of like what human men call “beer goggles.”

Then, the disaster began.

I’m too ashamed to go into details on paper, but it’s safe to say that was the most humiliating instant of my life. If I ever find a true relationship, I had better take note of when her menstrual cycle begins, to avoid potential disaster.

Tortured . . . not in a good way,

William

The book fell from my hands dramatically, as though I were in a cheesy TV show. My hands had physically lost their ability to grip. It was a good thing I was sitting, or else I’d probably have flounced to the ground dramatically.

Chilly Willy.

Mistress Jenny?

Jennifer.

It was true. Erin hadn’t been trying to scare me off. William hadn’t been lying to me.

I didn’t know if I was happy or terrified. All I knew was I had to continue.

“Ohhhhh, widdle widdle duckie-snoogles on pa-waaaaaade!” I shouted, trying to sound like baby showers appealed to me.

Katy’s baby shower made me gag. The duckies were stacked so high and so close, they looked like they were clusterfucking. Clusterducking? Either way, gross. There were little duckie cupcakes and little duckie napkins to wipe the yellow duckie frosting droppings discreetly smeared on your chin.

Deirdre was in her glory, proud of her shower-throwing skills. She was this school’s version of Angela from
The Office
—party-planning and party-pooping guru.

Katy rubbed her Buddha belly happily and thanked everyone. My colleagues all patted her tummy in turn, waiting for a kick.

I tried to blend in, but “high-fiving” a baby belly is pretty tactless, apparently. I tried covering up my faux pas by baby-talking again. “Doeshh dis widdle baby-snoogle wanna come out now?” I asked.

I figured that pronouncing things wrong and adding the suffix
snoogle
to nouns would sound like I knew what the hell I was talking about.

Apparently not.

“Cerise, where did you get that baby voice?” Deirdre asked, pushing her limp hair off her shoulder.

I shrugged. “It’s the voice I’d use with my dog . . . if I had one. I figured it would work for a baby.”

“I don’t think the baby cares, Cerise,” Katy chimed in. “Thanks for trying.”

“You clearly don’t have plans for kids yet,” Deirdre said to me bluntly. She was the most socially retarded person I had ever met.

I decided to make her uncomfortable.

“Let’s see . . . I’m ovulating next Monday, so I better find a man this weekend. Is your ex-boyfriend still in Portsmouth?” I asked loudly. The other teachers snickered only because they like me slightly better than they like Deirdre.

While the kids adored me, I didn’t have a huge fan club among teachers, mainly because I was a substitute and therefore not a permanent fixture they have to get to know. Little did they know I was just as qualified and experienced as they were—I had my teaching certificate, and I’d been doing this for years. I just didn’t want to settle down with a specific school. Or subject. Whatever. My dad was a principal and superintendent for years so I could go wherever the hell I pleased.

Deirdre spun on her Payless BOGO sale heel and walked out of the party. The people around me tittered nervously, and I laughed at myself for thinking of the word
titter
.

Thank God this party was over so I could get back to that journal.

I gave the class a pop test I made up on the spot so I could read the journal I fell asleep on.

Don’t judge me.

May 1, 2012

Dear Journal,

I had been to one or two Portsmouth munches before, but the scene didn’t appeal to me. This one was sort of a speed-dating scenario. Although many of the women were attracted to me, none had ever stood out, either mentally or physically.

Tonight, I was terrified to see Jenny, so I almost didn’t go in.

But I did, and it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I never imagined I could be so attracted to someone.

Perhaps I have truly been dead all these years. Perhaps my vampiric existence was hell, and after so much despair, God had finally granted me access to heaven.

I know I was being a bit fantastical and romantic, but I ignored reason.

So I stared at the meaning of life.

She had the most innocent visage, and the most petite but sinful body I had ever seen. Her mouth was pursed in a sweet, full pout, and her pale green eyes searched the room meaningfully. Her hair fell in golden waves around her lovely face, and landed softly on the tops of her more than full breasts. As a function such as this dictates, I’d say she was dressed appropriately.

Dark gray, tailored suit jacket on top of a skin-tight black corset.

My mind could barely form the following thought. It was so outrageous. It was so perfect. We talked for only a few minutes, but I will never forget a moment of it.

She was a single Domme, she was strict, and she wanted to play with me.

I put the book down with a triumphant slap to the counter.

It was me!

He was writing about me in his journal!

“Hey, Miss Norrel, you wore your dancing shoes today, huh?” a student asked. A few of them were laughing.

I looked down and realized I was doing my happy dance. The seated running man.

Shit
.

“Too much coffee,” I replied, blushing hard.

“I’d say not enough. Get up and work it!” some redheaded girl shouted, and suddenly there was an impromptu dance party breaking out in class.

Some kid took out his phone and put on some tunes.

I waved my hands. “That’s enough. Maybe if I’m in next week we’ll have a break-dance competition,” I joked.

Back to William,
my mind harassed me.

Breathing in deep, I composed myself and prepared to see what he had to say about that encounter.

She was a single Domme.
[I reread the line for mental emphasis.]

Her demeanor was firm and demanding. Her eyes saw into my soul. She, thank heavens, accepted my proposal. She didn’t even flinch at my cold hands. I wanted to present my body to her right there in front of everyone and beg for her to use me. Instead, I watched her leave in my rearview mirror and prepared for tomorrow’s date. And I may or may not have attempted to paint a portrait of her likeness.