Blood Slave

by Syra Bond

  ‘Oh, the delight! The image still fills me with rapture. That is how it happens, Syra. That is how it happened to me. That is how it will happen to you. You are being prepared. Already you have confessed your sins, and have had your teeth sharpened and drilled. Soon you will sense the delightful taste when, through those tiny holes in their ends, they drip the mixture of your own and another’s blood. He has made you wait too long. We need you with us now. And, after you have fed, you will be strong enough for bleeding. Oh, I envy your journey. Do not fear it; we are all waiting for you.’

  ‘What are you telling me? What’s happening to her? What is she feeding from?’

  ‘Look at the young girl! They feed us on iron. It makes our blood stronger. This one has not fed before - she is new to it. See, she still chokes as she tries to swallow it. It is difficult, but the strapping makes it easier - pain stimulates hunger. I was eager to feed when they put me to the trough, but still it was difficult. The filings grate in the throat, and they are so hard to swallow. But this one may fail. I can see she is fragile. Our master wants us all to serve but we need to be strong. He will reject her if she fails the test. He has to be cruel. Some may forever remain outside his fold. It has all gone quiet. Perhaps she has failed already.’

  The door opened.

  ‘Look,’ said Lydia. ‘Here’s Caroline. Dear Caroline. My dear, dear Caroline. Has she been looking after you?’ I nodded. ‘Welcome the new salvation. Do not hold back.’ She inclined her head towards Caroline. ‘Hello, Caroline. Have you come to look after my new friend Syra?’

  Caroline ignored her with a sniff. Her black bobbed hair contrasted against her pale satiny skin, the square cut fringe framing her face as if she was a portrait.

  ‘Do not forget your dear friend, Caroline. Do not forget what we have been to each other.’

  Caroline took no notice.

  ‘Ah, Syra,’ said Caroline. ‘You look as if you’re having a good time. You’ll have to take a break I’m afraid. We need to spend a bit of time next door. I saw you looking. It’s good to watch don’t you think? I enjoy watching too. But the last one put to the trough did not do very well. You probably heard her choking. Well, that wasn’t all of it. She was thrashed but even that didn’t cause her to feed - and the iron is so good for us! Perhaps you saw what happened to her in the end? Or perhaps you were too busy chatting. Syra, you are a one! Now, come along or we’ll be in trouble.’

  She stretched out her hand. I took it and allowed her to help me to my feet. I felt a bit giddy and stumbled. She grabbed me and helped me walk into the room next door. I wanted to keep hold of her arm and squeezed it hard. She smiled at me, crinkling up her eyes in a strange sort of wink. I felt safer with her close by.

  In the centre of the room was a long galvanized metal animal feeding trough. Its ends reached almost from wall to wall. At each of these ends sat a dwarf, both dressed like clowns in yellow and red diamond patterned costumes. They cocked their heads from side to side as they looked at me quizzically. A couple of paces back from the centre of the trough a man in a dark suit stood to attention. A black leather strap dangled from his hand; its end just touched the floor. He nodded to Caroline who walked me to the opposite corner furthest away from the trough. I felt a sense of relief, knowing that she was looking after me.

  The man in the suit spoke.

  ‘The master requires us all to be strong. Iron is at the centre of our power. It is in the blood we share and take from others, and it is in the shards of iron we feed on. On your hands and knees! Crawl to the feeding place!’

  Caroline pressed her hand between my shoulder blades. I dropped to my knees then allowed myself to fall forward so that I was on all fours. My panties tugged at the flesh of my cunt. I widened my thighs and felt the coolness of air against the filmy gusset that drew up closely against the soft moist edges of my crack.

  ‘Approach the trough!’ he shouted.

  I hesitated.

  ‘Approach the trough! On your hands and knees as you have been instructed! Crawl to the feeding trough! You must prepare yourself!’

  I moved forward. The tightness of the material of my panties pulled at my soft flesh. The act of crawling at the man’s command, the semi-darkness of the room, the metal trough, and the strangely dressed dwarfs, all conspired to set off a heat deep inside my cunt. I felt its moisture sticking to the soft material of my panties. I drew each leg forward one by one as, slowly I crept to the edge of the long galvanized trough.

  I stared down into the long, grey, upturned semi-circle of the trough - it was empty. The man with the belt clicked his fingers and both dwarfs ran forward, struggling to pull heavy sacks behind them. One of them fell over and somersaulted to get upright again.

  They held the heavy bags above the trough and started emptying the contents - heavy flows of dark brown iron filings. They ran along the trough spilling out the filling of the sacks in a long narrow pile the whole length of the feeding trough. Clouds of metal dust rose up and filled my nostrils. I coughed as its harsh tang entered my throat.

  ‘Now, begin the feeding! The master needs you strong for the transition.’

  I looked back towards Caroline. She was no longer there. I felt a surge of anxiety. I felt abandoned and alone without her. My heart started thumping and I breathed heavily. The bitter dust filed my mouth and made me choke.

  ‘Feed!’ the man shouted angrily. ‘Feed!’

  He flicked the leather strap threateningly. I bent my head into the trough.

  One of the dwarfs ran around me, clawing at my panties and digging his fingernails into my buttocks.

  ‘Feed! Feed!’

  The man in the suit flicked the strap again, this time harder.

  I bent until my lips touched the surface of the iron filings. I couldn’t believe what I was doing!

  ‘Feed! Feed!’

  I opened my mouth and licked my tongue out tentatively. The filings stuck to its tip - the metallic taste burned me, and the hard mineral consistency appalled me. This was iron! It was impossible to eat! It would poison me!

  I heard the strap being pulled back. I saw the querying face of one of the dwarfs as he angled it down towards me on the opposite side of the trough. For a moment he drew my attention away from what was happening, and I was suddenly surprised when I felt the smarting contact of the leather against my bottom. I reacted by pulling my face away from the iron filings, and rearing back in pain. But I had hardly begun to cry out when it landed again. I started to turn around, not knowing what to do, and another came down.

  ‘Feed, I said! Feed! Feed!’

  I turned back in terror. I hung my head above the trough. The dwarf laughed and cocked his head from side to side. I was distracted again and had delayed too long. The strap came down again. This time it grabbed the material of my panties and pulled them to one side. The sideways tension gripped the flesh of my cunt and made me shout out, not only with the pain from the strap on my buttocks but from the tearing snatch of the material as it pulled painfully at the edges of my soft moist flesh.

  I buried my face in the dry iron filings - I had no option. I opened my mouth and filled it. The iron was heavy and tart, its sharp fragments cut into my lips, it grated against the insides of my cheeks, it scratched the surface of my tongue.

  The strap came down again. I bit my teeth together to try and stop myself crying out, but it did not work. I felt sick with confusion - I heard myself choking, shouting, and trying desperately to breathe. Some of the filings stuck to the insides of my throat. When I choked it was like fire against my windpipe.

  The strap came down again. This time I buried my face deeper in the iron filings, but still I could not feed. My buttocks burned with the heat of the strap. Its sound filled my ears. The man kept shouting at me, the dwarves kept jumping in and out of my vision - grabbing my hair, or pinching my bottom an
d thighs. One of them dropped onto his back wriggled beneath me and started sucking one by one at my nipples. His teeth clenched around them and searing pains shot through my breasts. The strap came down again. I screamed and straightaway buried my face back in the dry iron filings. They stuck to my face, in my nostrils and in my eyes. Again I choked and pulled back.

  One of the dwarves jumped on my shoulders and forced my head down hard into the trough. I tried to pull back but he was too strong.

  ‘Start the sluice!’ the man shouted.

  The other dwarf let go of my nipples, scuttled to the side of the room, grabbed a fire hose, dropped the brass nozzle into the end of the trough and turned it on.

  A flood of water streamed down the bottom of the trough, churning up the iron filings and creating a brown muddy torrent. It hit the side of my face with a smack. I gulped and tried to pull back but the dwarf on my shoulders would not release his grip. Water flowed around my face. It thundered in my ears and ran up my nostrils. I could just hear the man shouting. I could still feel the burning contact of the leather strap on my buttocks then, as I choked and gulped, I suddenly found myself drawing the mixture of water and iron filings into my mouth and swallowing it down.

  I drank deeply, swallowing in huge gulps, feeling the heaviness of the mixture flooding inside me, entering my innards.

  I closed my eyes and drank from it like a thirsty animal. The strap continued falling and when it stopped I felt the weight of the other dwarf who had been biting my nipples as he parted my buttocks with his strong hands, clung to my back and forced his heavy cock deep inside my anus. I did not think of resisting. I lifted my buttocks to him, and opened them as wide as I could as he forced his cock as deep as it would go. He pounded me hard, driving the bulbous tip of his cock deep into my rectum. He gripped my hips in his strong hands and, as he filled my rectum with his hot semen, and I gulped in a frenzy of delight, and swallowed even more of the liquor from the trough, I felt strangely elated and nourished by the iron which was now passing into my system.

  As I regained consciousness I found myself lying next to the overflowing trough. The door burst open and Nurse Roslin marched in.

  She pulled the starched front of her uniform jacket tightly together at the front, adjusting the top button which had become slightly loose and rested at an angle in the buttonhole. Her cleavage deepened as she brought the shiny jacket facings together. She smiled - a nervous surreptitious smile out of character with her general presence and deportment - but replaced it quickly with a scowl. It was as if she had dropped her guard and caught herself in the act.

  ‘She’s going to knock you out!’ shouted Lydia from the other room. ‘Sure enough! She’s going to knock you out!’

  Nurse Roslin leant over me. I inhaled the delicate scent of her smooth skin. As she bent forward, her uniform top opened at the neck and I saw the embroidered edge of her bra pulled tightly around her well shaped breasts. She whispered something. I couldn’t make it out - I was too terrified to make sense of it. My heart was beating so fast and my head pounding so hard I felt deafened. She tried again - I felt the heat of her breath against my ear, but still I couldn’t hear her words. I shivered.

  Out of nowhere Caroline appeared. Nurse Roslin fell back with a snarl. Her teeth were bared against her curled-back lips. A dribble of spit ran over her bottom teeth. I heard her growl.

  Caroline smiled at her. Nurse Roslin screwed up her eyes and licked her lips.

  Seemingly unconcerned, Caroline turned away from her.

  ‘Oh, Syra! What are you doing now? Really! You can’t keep away from your games can you? You really must take a rest! You’ll exhaust yourself, and get us all into trouble if you carry on like this!’

  She took my arm and lifted me away from Nurse Roslin.

  Nurse Roslin hissed and moved her head forward but immediately drew back.

  I let Caroline half carry me out of the room. I felt safe in her arms - safe from the threats and dangers which seemed to stalk me at every turn. As she laid me down on the bed in her cell, and I saw the glimmer of light from the sunrise breaking in through a tiny gap in the curtain, I opened my legs and allowed her to slip her tongue deeply into my eager welcoming crack. She grasped my buttocks on her hands and squeezed them hard. I felt her sharp fingernails digging into my skin and wondered if blood was trickling from the puncture marks I felt sure they had caused. For the moment, I felt saved from the fate that Lydia seemed to think so unavoidable. I dropped my legs as wide as they would go.

  BLOOD

  I awoke in another room. It was dark and oppressive - its low ceiling joining the darkened, red painted walls in curving uneven lines. I dozed most of the day - not knowing whether I was dreaming or awake. Nurse Roslin came in and drew back the curtains to a small window. The fading sunset was just allowing some red light to flicker between the foaming clouds. The top buttons of her uniform jacket were undone and the outline of her breasts, captured within a pink lacy bra, was highlighted in glowing red. For a moment it was as if she was drenched in blood.

  It was good to see the world outside. I had not been out since I found myself in this terrible place. I imagined high white clouds gathering over the ocean, the heavy crashing waves, and the warm sea around my body as I dived into the frothing surf.

  Nurse Roslin placed a metal tray with shiny metal implements on a small table beside my bed. Dr Collins followed her in and stood over me. He tightened the knot of his red tie into the smooth white collar of his shirt. He took hold of my wrist and looked at his watch. A few seconds passed. My heart was pounding.

  ‘Still a little fast, nurse. We had better start taking samples from now on. We need to know when it is appropriate to continue the treatment.’

  He removed the pen from his breast pocket and noted something down on the chart that hung at the bottom of the bed.

  ‘Go ahead, nurse. Go ahead.’

  Nurse Roslin took my arm as she had before, turned it over and laid the back of my hand on her lap. The warmth of her thighs against my skin made me tingle. She took a silver metal syringe from the tray, pressed down the plunger fully then presented the needle end to the veins on the inside of my elbow.

  She flicked the back of her finger against the skin and the veins rose in thin blue lines. She pushed the needle against the most prominent one. The skin broke and it entered. I sensed the delightful feeling of penetration. I imagined the silver tip of the needle surrounded by my blood - drawing it up, removing some of my essence. She drew the plunger back slowly. I watched my blood entering the glass tube of the syringe - dark red, thick, resistant. I felt as if I didn’t want it to leave my body. I felt as I she was sucking out my life. My heart beat faster.

  She held up the full syringe and looked at it with satisfaction. She unscrewed the transparent barrel and dropped it in a plastic bag which she folded carefully and pressed into the breast pocket of her jacket. After putting a small plaster on the wound, they left; Nurse Roslin, teetering on her high heeled red shoes and pulling down her short skirt as she wiggled through the door behind Dr Collins.

  They came again each day at about the same time. Each time nurse Roslin drew back the curtain, each time she took a sample of my blood, each time Dr Collins took my pulse and wrote down the result on the chart at the bottom of my bed. The regularity of their visits became almost comforting. I slept in the day and after sunset stared through the window into the night sky until morning.

  I started to look forward to the needle being pressed into my veins. I started to welcome the sensation of my blood been drawn - of seeing it entering the transparent barrel of the syringe, of feeling something so indispensable to my life taken from me. I welcomed the attention, the closeness of Nurse Roslin, the touch of her hand, the warmth of her lap against the back of my hand. I was increasingly excited with each visit. When the needle went in I felt a warmth in my cunt, when I
saw the blood being drawn from me, I sensed the wetness against the soft edges of my flesh, and when I felt the warmth of Nurse Roslin’s lap against the back of my hand, I was filled with the anxious feeling of an unreleased orgasm somewhere deep between my hips.

  I longed to run my hand up between her thighs, to pull her panties aside and drive my fingers into her cunt. I imagined Dr Collins’ reaction - how angry he would be, how he would punish her for allowing me to take such liberties. And the thought of his anger excited me even more. I saw him bending Nurse Roslin over the bed, making her lean across me, making her stretch out and reach the floor on the one side with her long red fingernails while still keeping her high heeled shoes on the floor on the other. I saw how perfect she would look, stretched over me like this - her mop of red hair hanging down over her face and reaching almost to the floor, her breasts pressed forward against the open neck of her uniform jacket, her buttocks taut against the material of her lace edged panties. I pictured him lifting her skirt - it would be tight and he would have to pull it hard. Perhaps she would raise herself up slightly off the bed and when he noticed her doing this he would smack her hard across the buttocks for being so wanton. And I imagined seeing her bottom, tightly enclosed in her fancy black panties - pulled into the crease of her buttocks, tight against the soft and yielding flesh of her succulent cunt. He would pull them down slowly and she would start breathing harder. I would see a dribble of spit running from her gaping mouth as finally the silky material pulled away from the sticky flesh of her crack. When they came down to behind her knees I would lick my lips at the sight of the rounded cheeks of her buttocks - their tension, their firmness, their expectancy. I would wait for him to start - savouring the silence of expectancy, the moments before action. When he started it would be like an explosion - breaking the quietness and throwing me into a turmoil which only he could end. And I would feel every smack of his hand as the pressure of it was transmitted from her bottom, through her tense, stretched body, and into my own as I lay shivering with excitement beneath her. As his smacks became harder so the excitement would increase and I would push myself up against her - meeting each blow with yearning, feeling the contact precisely as if it was against my own skin. She would not be a barrier between me and his hand but a conduit that amplified the pain and transmitted it deep into my soul. And, in the end, as the tempo of the beating was at its height and the pain was unsurpassable, I would scream out as my orgasm broke free and threw me into an uncontrollable delirium. Then he would grab me by the hair, drag me from beneath her and fling me across his knee. He would smack me as hard as he could with his hand, and when I screamed for more he would take off his belt and bring that down across my already reddened skin. But still I would raise my buttocks to it and shout for more, and he would stretch my legs wide and beat the soft flesh of my cunt. The cutting edges of his belt would throw me into a seizure of suffering, but still it would not be enough. Finally, he would bring in others to continue with the beating until at last, still screeching for more and my whole body covered in red stripes and blotches, I would fade into an ecstatic unconsciousness.