‘Very well,’ I sighed heavily. Extending a hand, intending to shake on the deal, I said, ‘It seems like we have an arrangement.’
The words clanged loudly inside head and, as soon as they were said, I knew I had made a mistake.
Chapter Eighteen
The house was surprisingly large.
I had known it was huge when I first visited. Landscaped gardens surrounded the main building and the façade was enormous, grand and imposing. While I was being led through Carlos’s home I had seen there were an impressive number of rooms, as well as the conservatory at the rear that housed the pool. But I hadn’t had a chance to appreciate the size of the place. And I hadn’t expected him to have his own surgical operating theatre.
He led me to a room in the east wing.
The windowless walls were tiled in white, lit by fluorescent beams and decorated with stainless steel accoutrements. The ascetic scent of hospitals perfumed the air. To complete the medical image, the three blondes waited in the room dressed as nurses.
Their uniforms were powder blue, cut short as though they were naughty nurses from a porno title, and set off with lace-topped white stockings. Each wore a small cap – white with a red cross in the centre to designate their status as nurses. The open throated uniforms allowed for the display of massive amounts of cleavage. If not for the fact that Carlos was now in control, I could have happily admired the trio for the remainder of the evening and the rest of the following day.
They all smiled broadly as I entered with Carlos.
A birthing stool dominated the centre of the room and Carlos urged me to sit. The contraption was designed with stirrups, armrests and a seat that looked suspiciously uncomfortable. I climbed awkwardly into the chair and tried not to let apprehension grip me as I placed my legs in the stirrups. My legs were spread wide open and the smell of the hospital was awakening a wealth of old anxieties. The seat reclined so my head was laid back and I tried to tell myself it was less like a clinical chair and more reminiscent of the poolside recliner I had just vacated. The openness of my posture heightened my nervousness. It didn’t help when Carlos turned to face me and I saw he had donned a surgeon’s mask and dark green gown. He held a tool that looked old-fashioned, mechanical and despicably cruel.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he insisted. His words were muffled by the mask over his mouth.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, nodding at the contraption in his hand.
‘The tattoo gun?’ he asked, seeming surprised at my ignorance. With a derisory chuckle he said, ‘I cannot have you in my household unless you are branded like the rest of my women.’ In case I had any doubts about which women he meant, Carlos waved his hand at the three blondes.
A shiver chilled down my spine. ‘You want to tattoo me?’
‘That is the way I do things,’ he snapped. His mood turned suddenly vicious. ‘Do you want to do this by my rules? Or do you want to leave now?’ He stepped back and gestured to the door.
The blondes studied me earnestly.
I tried to read the expressions on their faces but my panic was too extreme for me to properly understand their reaction. They had clearly been proud of their own tattoos but none of them seemed eager for me to submit to Carlos’s demands. Their pensive frowns and narrowed eyes fixed on me with guarded concentration.
I dismissed them from my thoughts and remembered I had to focus on securing Mel’s release. If I wanted my friend rescued from the legion of vampire hunters, I had to do everything Carlos demanded. The equation was simple and I realised the threat of the tattoo was simply the first proper test of whether or not I had the courage to do everything necessary to help my friend.
I lay back in the chair, tried to look comfortable, and shrugged as easily as I could manage. Because I was naked, save for the fishnets, I felt vulnerable and far from relaxed but I wouldn’t let Carlos think he had me at a disadvantage. I stared at the ceiling and said, ‘Go ahead.’
One of the blondes gasped.
Carlos fixed her with a silencing glare.
‘Do what you have to,’ I told him. ‘I’ve agreed to be yours for the day.’
He snapped his fingers and the blondes fell on me. Two of them peeled my stockings away, taking excessive pleasure from the simple act of smoothing the nylon from my flesh. Their fingers were cool, but not unpleasant. They removed the stockings with expressions of clinical concentration and barely suppressed smiles. A familiar thrill of desire swelled in my loins. If Carlos had not been in the room I knew we would have started to “play” again. The three women were insatiable and, in their naughty nurse uniforms, they looked exceptionally tempting.
But, because Carlos sat on a stool between my spread legs I forcefully suppressed my response to the women. He could see every detail of my freshly shaved pussy. My naked body was spread out for his appraisal and that single thought was enough to quash my arousal.
One of the blondes drew a cool, wet cloth across my inner thigh. Another came with a dry towel and dabbed the flesh gently. The third appeared behind me and began to massage my scalp.
‘Leave the hair,’ Carlos snapped.
She backed away instantaneously.
He grinned at me and said, ‘If you choose to remain in my company after this trial period we can bleach your hair blonde at a later date.’
I said nothing.
Although I was only using Carlos as a means to securing Mel’s release, he clearly thought I would be won over by his domination and beg to become one of his harem. The thought was peculiarly exciting because, although I considered Carlos to be contemptible, I truly enjoyed the company of the three women who served beneath him. I don’t think I would have wanted to be one of their number – part of their charm was that they were so similar, yet each was a different woman, and I didn’t think I could ever fit in with them in that way – but the idea of being constantly in their company was not unappealing.
The tattoo gun whirred into life and the noise was loud enough to make me jump. The sound was chilling and intrusive and snatched my thoughts away from my pleasant musings on the charms of the blondes. Emitting a raucous shriek, the gun’s screech was diabolical and constant. The painful sound grew louder as Carlos brought it close to my thigh. He lowered his head between my spread thighs, and I was sickened by the way I was being forced open for his inspection. The humiliation was sudden, intense and shamefully exciting.
‘You have to stay still while I am doing this,’ Carlos warned.
The words were warm breath against the lips of my sex. I struggled not to shiver from the subtle caress. The idea that this might not be the ordeal I had anticipated crossed my mind.
And then the fiery tip of the tattoo gun branded my flesh.
The first stab of pain was a flaming agony. If I hadn’t been instructed to remain motionless I would have pulled myself from the stool and bawled angrily at Carlos for causing so much hurt. Because I knew I had to endure this asinine initiation, I held every muscle in my body rigid and tried to tolerate the agony.
His fingers grabbed my thigh.
I could feel that he was dangerously close to touching my pussy lips with his thumb. The agony of the tattoo gun, a pain that was akin to a million needles breaking my skin again and again and again, was almost forgotten as I tried to distance myself from the sensation of his fingers near my sex.
But, as Carlos continued to work on the drawing, driving the gun hard against my flesh and firing fresh agony beneath my skin, the burning sensation grew worse and more intolerable than his touch.
The blonde behind me massaged my shoulders.
If she had been standing, my head would have been on the same level as her waist. So that she could murmur words of encouragement into my ear the blonde squatted on her haunches and pressed the occasional comforting kiss against my cheek. Intermittently, whenever Carlos sat back to clear the sweat from his brow, one of the other nurses would lean over and wipe smudges of ink from my thigh with her moist towel. T
he nurse holding the dry towel quickly rushed to follow where she had been, gently dabbing at my skin and igniting a soft thrill of pleasure.
Those caresses should have been asexual and as sterile as the hospital smell that tainted every breath in the room. Yet, for some reason that I couldn’t fathom, each touch was an aphrodisiac that had me desperate for more contact.
But, whenever I found myself thinking how pleasant it would be for the blondes to continue pampering between my thighs, the idea was dashed by the renewed whine of the tattoo gun and the reality of Carlos plunging back between my legs to continue branding my thigh.
It took him for ever.
When he eventually sat back – grinning, wiping his forehead and beckoning for the nurses to admire his handiwork – I wondered how many days I had endured in the birthing stool. I was sweating and dizzy from the pain. Every muscle ached from the exertion of holding myself tense in anticipation of further pain.
‘Come see,’ Carlos told the blondes. ‘Come see how it looks.’
They gathered eagerly around him, cooing enthusiastically, admiring my sex and smiling with genuine enthusiasm.
‘Cool!’
‘Wicked!’
‘Awesome!’
If I had visited an ordinary tattoo artist I knew this would be the point where he produced a mirror to let me see the results of his efforts. Because I was now a vampire, I understood there would be little point in Carlos having one of the blondes try to show me my reflection. I craned my neck forward, trying to see the despicable design. Despite the enthusiastic appraisal from the blondes I wanted to glimpse what had been done and gauge how terrible the tattoo looked against my sex.
Carlos pushed me back into the chair before I had a chance to see.
‘You have aroused me,’ he declared. He slid two fingers inside my pussy and laughed when I tried to squirm away. ‘I could smell your sex while I was working and it has excited me greatly. How do you propose we deal with that excitement, Tessa?’
It was another test. I hadn’t liked Carlos before this evening began but now I was beginning to loathe him and his bullying mannerisms. Aware of how he expected me to respond, sure I knew what he wanted me to say – and determined I wouldn’t play his game so easily – I studied him with a cool smile.
‘We can deal with your excitement however you want, Carlos.’
His laughter rang from the tiled walls.
He stood up, handing his tattoo gun to the nearest blonde and pulling open his pants with one effortless jerk of his wrist. He hadn’t been lying when he admitted to being aroused. His erection stood large and monstrous between us. And, while I still found him repugnant, a part of me was anxious to have his length plunge deep into my hole.
The constant caresses I had suffered throughout the tattoo had been exciting. The pain had proved arousing and, even though I didn’t like Carlos, I knew he would be able to satisfy the need that now settled in my loins. The inner muscles of my pussy clenched with hungry convulsions. The pulse within my clit throbbed as though it was anxious to be touched or teased. I wrenched my gaze away from the length of Carlos’s hard cock and met his eyes. In the coolest voice I could manage I said again, ‘We can deal with your arousal however you want.’
‘Beg me for it,’ Carlos demanded.
He grabbed his erection and stroked the end of his glans against the soft lips of my pussy. The sensation was electric and a thrill of raw need bristled through my sex. I quivered as the shockwaves of joy pounded every nerve ending. Deliberately, I shook my head.
‘I don’t beg for anything, Carlos.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this insurrection? I warned you insurrection will not be tolerated. You are here to do everything I demand.’
‘No,’ I said evenly. ‘If you want me, you can take me. I’ve said I’ll endure whatever pleases you.’ I tilted my chin and fixed him with a defiant glare. ‘But I’m not going to beg.’
He laughed. The bellow of mirth rang loud from the hollow walls of the hospital room. Reverberating against the stainless steel fittings it sounded to have a maniacal tone.
Brandishing his cock at me, Carlos said, ‘You will beg for this before the day is over. I have met truculent bitches like you before. You always start off full of your own self-importance. But, by the end of the day, you are always begging for whatever it is I can give to you.’
I said nothing because I feared he might be right. He controlled the blondes with a series of signals and gestures that was something close to a psychic ability. I did not believe my willpower was any stronger than theirs and I tried not to think how humiliating it would be when Carlos was proved right and I crumbled and begged at his knees.
Carlos snapped his fingers and one of the blondes joined me on the birthing stool. She sat, precariously, with her buttocks nestled against my hips. She lay back, so her face was next to mine, and the drop of a hoop earring tickled my cheek. The arousal I had suffered when Carlos touched his cock against my pussy was only a shadow of the torment that struck when the blonde was pressed so close. I could smell the clean scent of her perspiration and the maddening fragrance of her musk. My desire for her was strong and greedy but I knew, now Carlos was in control, I had no hope of satisfying that need until either I begged him or he decreed it was acceptable. Not for the first time that day, I found myself thinking about irresistible forces and immovable objects.
The blonde moaned.
I glanced over her shoulder and let my gaze trail down the expanse of her gorgeous, slender body. Her raunchy nurse’s uniform was tight and accentuated her slim waist and large, full breasts. While she had been standing, the short cut of the hem showed off the tops of her stockings. Now, when she was lying on top of me, the dress had ridden so high I could see she wasn’t wearing panties. I could also see that Carlos had plunged his shaft between her spread thighs. The dark curls around the base of his cock had merged with the honey-blonde down that swathed her pussy lips.
The sight was mesmerising.
The blonde held her thighs against her chest so Carlos could easily force his length inside. Her stocking-clad legs were so close I could have touched stroked and caressed them if I had wanted. The temptation was strong but I feared such contact would not meet with Carlos’s approval.
Mel had said he was a self-obsessed control freak who always insisted on having his own way and I could now understand why she had made such a damning accusation. At the time I had thought she was being unkind but now, now I knew Carlos, I thought she had clearly understated his faults. I made a mental note to tell her as much when we next met.
Trying to resist the temptation of touching the blonde, I clamped my hands firmly on the arms of the birthing chair. Her cries of pleasure sounded genuine and hatefully enjoyable. She was receiving the fucking that Carlos had offered to me. And, because I had refused to beg for him, I was being forced to endure a second-hand version of the experience.
Every thrust Carlos rammed into the blonde pressed her body hard against mine. The position was made particularly galling because I could feel the tantalising tickle of his balls at my pussy lips whenever his length filled her sex. The knowledge that he was riding the blonde and not me – when I so desperately needed something between my legs – made me ache with frustration.
‘Yes! Carlos! Master! Thank you! Thank you! Yes!’
‘Take it all, you little bitch,’ he grunted. ‘Take it all.’
I didn’t want to listen to them but I had no choice.
I closed my eyes, desperate to distance myself from them in any way possible, but that only made things worse. In the darkness the rhythm of his pounding – and her gleeful responses – shook through my body with more powerful force. I tried not to be excited by the process but it was impossible to avoid the arousal. The blonde was clearly devoted to Carlos and delighted that he was riding her with such passion.
And when she came, exploding noisily with an orgasm that sprayed a warm film of musk over my thighs, I wanted
to sob that I had not been the recipient of his passion.
Carlos dragged her away from me and threw her toward the other two.
He held his shaft in one hand and brandished it at me like a stubby sword. ‘Do you want this now?’ He leered as he asked the question. ‘Are you desperate for it yet? Are you going to beg?’
With a magnificent effort, determined he wouldn’t conquer me so easily, I parted my thighs and shrugged indolently. I didn’t doubt my pussy was wet and open. The tingling that held my body was bound to be obvious to him. But I wasn’t going to beg. ‘I told you before, Carlos: if you want me, you can take me. I’ll endure whatever you want.’
He grunted with sudden anger. His smile vanished and was replaced by bitter fury. He pointed his length briefly in my direction, growling, ‘You will beg me for this before the day is over.’ And then he was grabbing hold of another blonde and pushing her on top of me.
‘I won’t beg for anything,’ I told him.
He wasn’t listening.
This time the blonde faced me. Her breasts squashed against my chest. Our stomachs touched and the weight of her pubic mound pressed down onto mine. Her thighs were parted and, when Carlos pushed into her, I could almost feel the length of his erection pressing down from the wall of her stomach.
As torments went it was invidious.
This time there was less for me to see but that didn’t mean the sensations weren’t just as exquisite. His length slid easily into her sex. She pushed herself eagerly back onto him. And I was left to feel the echo of their pleasure as a sad and insubstantial substitute for the real thing that I craved.
The blonde raised her face to study me.
Her lips were parted in a wordless sigh. I saw the oval mole that sat above her upper lip and realised I had already kissed the woman a dozen or more times that evening. The desire to kiss her again remained strong but I felt certain Carlos would be livid with such unauthorised behaviour. Resisting the urge to put my mouth over hers I trembled beneath the pair as he took her to a pique of noisy satisfaction.
Once Bitten Page 17
