The Vampire Novella / Chapter 2: Eaten

Drifting in and out of my endless reverie, I've lost track of time. I can feel velvet, gentle and rough and warm all at the same time, underneath my hand. Fresh linen scent, as I turn over. A clear but distant awareness of pain: some dull throbbing, some sharper and ragged; bruises, cuts, contusions; torn muscle, damaged flesh.

I open my eyes and I'm wide awake. I look at the bed I'm lying in – so right that the colour should be red. I sense that I'm quite close to the edge of something, with only a little fight left in me. Normally so defiant, so bold and unyielding, layers stripped back now to the secret self where everything is in flux. No longer any need to question, subliminal and silent, formless and free.

I sigh, and the sound attracts the attention of another person in the room. As I turn my head to the side, I see a young man stand up from a chair next to the bed and rush out. He has dark blonde, wavy long hair and a fragile, vulnerable face; although I sense an inner core, which is iron strong. He's dressed from the waist down only, and he's heavily marked…bruises and scars, both old and new, cover his torso. There's something about him…feral and yet tamed… his demeanour puts me in mind of a guard dog.

And then all thoughts of anyone else leave me, as a beautiful man walks into the room and I stare at him, completely absorbed by his incredible bone structure. His long hair falls like a rushing wave of dark water to his waist. His eyes are sweet and lost, childlike in their solemnity. His body is wiry, strong -muscular without being overly developed. He looks like he could easily swing me into his arms and carry me to the hospital to have my injuries attended to. But judging from his expression, that is very much not his intention.

His long military cut jacket sways as he walks across the room. His knee high biker boots make no sound at all on the floorboards. I see the moonlit glint of teeth in the humid night air. I'm terrified…and furiously angry.

“I have these…these thoughts sometimes”; he whispers in my ear, stroking back my hair with his fingers. (when did he move? I didn't even see him move) “I think…I really want to hurt some body. I want to see what would happen if I hurt you…so many things I want to do to you”. (his lips are so close. I feel the vibrations in the air on my skin. the hairs on my arms rise, my skin sensitised to his presence) “But first, we have to eat. And why have bread and water when you can have caviar and champagne?”

His arms slide underneath me and I'm lifted. He turns, and walks quickly to the door, all in one fluid movement. I realise belatedly that whilst I was unconscious, someone removed the remains of my shredded clothing, and re-dressed me. Thin strands of fabric wrap me around the shoulders, arms, waist and legs from the thigh down, leaving my neck, wrists, breasts and upper thighs uncovered. Pieces of chain pin the cloth together, providing the illusion of clothing without covering any of my body from view.

He carries me into a huge, cavernous chamber walled in stone, set with a long table for formal dining. A dozen or so of his people are already seated. I see the two who took me and brought me here, their faces eager, searching for his approval. In front of an immense hearth fire, a huge, dark blonde Wolf lies, cushioning its long snout in its paws. There is something fleetingly familiar about it, but I've never seen an animal like that before. Its tail wags half heartedly as it sees its Master, but as the man carrying me steps around the Wolf, he avoids contact by eye or touch. It seems to me that the Wolf adores his Master, but his Master is afraid, or repulsed, by him. That can't be right, I think.

He serves me up onto the table; a dozen hungry faces whip round to stare - only the tiny muscles near their eyes betraying the self-control they're exerting. The Master reaches for me first, and leans both hands on my thighs in a grip that makes my frantic attempts to wriggle away laughable. He opens my legs and I fight against him. He lowers his head between my thighs, inhales, and breathes out. He licks the skin, and then closes his eyes, savouring the taste. With a dancer's speed, he's biting into me and sucking down.

He's signalling to the others that they can begin their own meal, and each one takes either a space on my body for themselves, or waits patiently for their turn. One of them pulls my head back hard by the hair so that two others can take my neck. My wrists are claimed by another pair, as are the two spots at the side of my waist. The Master transfers his attention to my other thigh, and tastes the blood from there as well. I am struggling weakly, but I can feel the last of my strength trickling away.

Wolf is allowed to lick at the spots of blood falling from my body to the floor. He gazes up at his Master, begging, and nuzzles my fingers. My arm falls, overlooked, down the side of the table. Involuntarily I curl my fingers to scratch behind his ears…an automatic response…then stop, horrified.

The atmosphere changes. He's lifting his head from my thighs, and looking at me - his face still shockingly beguiling, despite the blood smeared across it. His expression is changing subtly, as if one kind of hunger, now satisfied, is being exchanged for another. His arms are flung, sudden and violent, out to the side, and the others drinking from me are knocked flying across the room; they land with a sharp crack against the walls.

For the first time I see him betray haste as he unzips his trousers in a manner that, from anyone else, would be described as clumsy. He's pulling himself out… I understand why… his cock is throbbing, filled with heat and blood and burning with the need to be enclosed in soft warm flesh. He's bigger than anyone I've ever seen before, bigger than I imagined was possible, and so wide that it terrifies me. Weak as I am, I use the rush of adrenaline to scramble backwards, my eyes huge and black with fear. With one hand he's holding himself, and with the other, grabs my arm and pins it against the table. The wood presses uncomfortably against my back as he rubs himself against my entrance. I realise with a true horror, that I'm wet. With blood - yes - but also something more. He's moving his cock back and forth, seeking the right angle and stimulating all the nerve endings so that my entire focus concentrates on that one area.

He's ramming himself inside me with no warning, and his free hand comes round to hold down my other arm. His fingers are digging into my flesh; bruises developing instantly. He starts to thrust in long, deep strokes, and he's so big, it's hurting so much, so badly, I scream.

“Please, please don't”. I'm crying out, finding my voice for the first time out of desperation. “It hurts so much; I can't breathe”. His only response is to thrust harder, and put one hand around my neck, gripping firmly. He's pounding into me now, and his face transfigures into a mask, as he fills me more than I've ever been fulfilled before.

“I'm begging you”. I'm whispering through the fingers closing on my neck, “please stop, don't, please don't”. He's smiling maliciously through that mask of intense emotion, and with one hand still on my throat, he's biting into my neck, hard. I'm feeling his groans vibrate on my skin through his mouth, as he pours himself inside me, in an explosive peak that I think will never end, the muscles in his body shimmering, swelling and releasing convulsively. His thrusts are slowing now, and then they finally stop. He takes his teeth out of my skin and his body out of mine.

I meet his eyes for a moment, then drop them, as for the first time in my life I find I can't hold my own and meet a man's gaze.

He smiles in an expression that could frighten a tiger, and says; “I think I'll keep you for a while…”