Marcus put his glass down and cupped my head with both of his hands. I panicked and tried to pull away. “Shh, shh, Sex. I am just going to lick you. You know my saliva has healing properties. We have done this before.”
Yes, we had done this before, when he’d ripped something open because I wouldn’t roll over and wiggle for him like a grateful mongrel pup someone picked up in a gay bar.
His saliva burned like iodine. I shivered as I felt that tongue brush my skin. His spittle felt warm on my flesh, and then he touched the fanged puncture wounds. I was wrong! It wasn’t like the moderate stinging of iodine; it was more like the pouring of acid into an open wound. I gritted my teeth and thrashed, but he held on to me with that incredible strength he had and licked at the wounds again. Damn it!
At one point in my life, I would have fought the burning sensation behind my eyes, but what was the point? In front of him or alone in the playroom, either way, I’d end up sobbing. I wouldn’t feel so drained if I let my tears fall when they wanted to, rather than trying to bottle them up. So now, I cried openly.
“I have scarred you.” Marcus sat back and looked over his handiwork with a frown. “And in a place that cannot be easily hidden. You will have to wear turtlenecks or scarves when we go out.” He said that so matter-of-factly.
Go out? He was letting me go out? I’ve been naked, or naked in chains, more often than not since the day I woke up here. My workout clothes, when discarded for a shower, mysteriously disappeared, leaving me with nothing but a towel to wear more often than not. All I know for sure is that I wake up, see Marcus, and get screwed, whether I want it or not. Ha, like I ever wanted it. Just because he found me in a gay bar didn’t mean I was that way inclined.
I sniffled. My universe had shrunk down to three rooms: the bathroom, the living room, and the playroom—and I try like hell to stay out of the playroom. This was the first time that he’d mentioned anything about going back out into the real world.
“You like this.”
He was using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my face. I stayed there passively until he was done, and then silently watched as he picked up the glass he was carrying before he’d slobbered on my neck and put it down in front of me with the little red straw in it pointed at my mouth. Cranberry juice on ice with a lime wedge floating in it.
Every damned day, I get the same damn thing.
I took the straw in my mouth and began drinking, mainly because I was thirsty but also because Marcus had no qualms about forcing me to drink it. I had gotten a cracked tooth over trying to argue about that one. How he had gotten a dentist down here was anyone’s guess—amazing, and a bit scary.
“Your body accepts me.”
He reached between my legs and grabbed my cock. I gagged, coughed on the miss-swallowed juice and winced as it burned in my nasal passage. Marcus laughed, pulled me to my feet by my cock, and set me back against him on the couch. His left hand stroked me, getting me hard, while the other took the straw out of my mouth and wiped my running nose with a tissue.
“Your body accepted me a long time ago.” He tapped my temple three times with his finger. “Now, I want this.”
I could feel his arousal through his pants, nudging at my bare backside. He took my legs, hooked them around his own knees, and spread me wide, all the while stroking my cock into an erection.
Stop this. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be your damn fuck toy.
“Yes, you do, my Little One, and you are not my fuck toy. We will have to work on your language. There is no need to be so crass and unrefined. Maybe my little toy—that is what you started out being, but then I saw your mind. You are my perfect match. You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you. But we cannot go any further until this,” he poked me in the head again, “joins in the fun. And we are running out of time.”
He bucked my hips forward with his own, rammed a long, wiggling digit inside me, and began to thrust in time with his stroking hand on my erection.
Please…please…please…please.
What the hell was I begging for? I should be fighting him. He’d kidnapped me and turned me into his own personal sex doll and drinking fountain. His mouth was back at my neck, but this time there were only sucking kisses and that healing tongue of his. It stung, but it was more of a cigarette burn now, rather than a branding iron.
“You deserve gentleness, Sex. You deserve to be held and cherished for the special creature that you are. I want to do that for you, but you keep fighting me. In a way, it is erotic.” Another sucking kiss, hard enough to leave a hickey, was placed on the underside of my jaw. “I never expected you to give in easily, but then I never thought that the task would be so hard. I could break you completely, but what would that leave me? It would not be you, Sex. I want to sleep with you in my arms, and not have to worry about getting knifed again.” These words were all whispered into my ear through my curtain of hair.
I wanted to laugh, but the sensation he was wringing out of my body was getting too intense. I was horrified as my traitorous body began thrusting back on his finger, then pumping forward into his stroking palm.
Maybe he was right about my body accepting him. At least it was acclimatized to his size now, because of the daily attacks since the day he kidnapped me; back then I had been left bloody and torn, and in nothing but searing pain. The living room, which was now practically empty, had been tastefully decorated—canvases, crystal vases, stemware, and all sorts of breakable paraphernalia. Marcus had been overly excited that night—or was it day?—and after the third penetration in the space of an hour, I had grabbed the nearest thing within my reach, a letter opener, and I’d rammed it deep into his chest.
That was the start of a day of firsts for me. That was the first time that I’d ever seen those red eyes of his. To say he was pissed at what I’d done was the understatement of the century. I discovered a lot of things that day.
I found out how strong he was when he threw me across the room with only one arm. I learned how much pain my body could endure before passing out. My forearm was broken in two places, but I was still perfectly able to experience my first red-eyed rape. I’ve since discovered that when he is extremely turned on or agitated, his brown eyes turn that reddish cast and glow with a fire within. Creepy shit.
That also was the first time I was introduced to being a portable blood bag for a vampire, and more importantly, I learned to be still when Marcus was drinking from me, because it hurt way too much to struggle, and honestly, what was the use? His fangs were already in my life fountain by the time I became aware that he was drinking. Did I mention that he could move faster than a speeding bullet?
When he’d pulled the letter opener out of his chest, I wanted him to stab me with it, to simply end this horror show that was masquerading as my life. Instead, Marcus dropped the knife, ran his index finger through his own blood, and pinned me up against the wall, which was good because I couldn’t have stood even if I had had the strength to do so. He ran his bloodied finger down my forehead, down my nose, and across my lips.
“You have the honor of first blood.”
I remember watching stupidly, weak from blood loss and the pain of broken bones, as the red glare faded from his eyes and returned them to plain chocolate brown. That was the first time that I felt him in my mind. Considering the heated violence he had just put me through, this was the polar opposite. His mental touch was like a soft, cool, summer night’s breeze playing around in my head.
“I am going to have to watch myself with you, Sex. You are a minefield. I explode every time I touch you.” He let go of me, and I slid down the wall, landing hard on my abused backside.
I could only stare up at him. I thought I had just been drugged and picked up by some sort of maniac with a vampire fetish. That letter opener should have been my ticket out, either with him dead or me dead, but this? A real vampire? Not some weird geek with red contacts and fangs, but a real vampire? I couldn’t get my head around that. I kn
ew my parents believed in this crap, but I thought I knew better. Vampires were only legends. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. Right?
I’d felt my neck and found two deep wounds, still trickling fresh blood. A vampire had taken me from a bar, locked me up God only knows where, and was raping me regularly, drinking from me when he felt like it, and holding onto me like I was a favorite stuffed doll. The drinking part was far worse than the sex. I’d shuddered and fell over sideways, directly onto my broken arm.
Fucking vampire.
“Not just any vampire, Sex. My name is Marcus, and I am yours.”
I’d fainted, his final words ringing in my ears. My last thought as the darkness enveloped me was…it was about damn time.
I came back from my little mind trip just as the tip of Marcus’s cock slipped inside of me. His pumping hand around my cock was still busy working me into deep arousal, and yet somehow he had managed to get my knees further apart and had angled my hips in order for him to be able to take me slowly and without resistance. This slow, seductive lovemaking was worse than before, because I almost moaned out loud and not in pain. I cut it off. I didn’t want to receive pleasure from this.
“Try it, Sex. You just might like it enough to come back for more. I would not mind providing for you any time you ask for it.”
Marcus thrust upwards, hitting my prostate, and I stopped thinking as I was enveloped in a white blaze of pleasure. He rode me hard, just like normal. I was a bundle of nerves and sensations. I came on his third deep thrust and would have fallen off his lap and flat onto my face if he hadn’t caught me. He must have liked this new, slumped position I found myself in, because he shifted so that my face was angled more towards the floor, one of his hands holding onto my cuffed wrists, the other holding tight to my hips, and my knees still locked with his. He stood up, maintaining my pose, and began pumping away for all he was worth. He kept hitting that sweet spot inside of me, over and over. Drool slipped out my mouth and dripped off my chin. Oh, Christ. I was getting another erection.
“See, this is the true you, Sex. Embrace it.”
I started to cry out with each thrust as his cock caressed that special spot. I couldn’t have kept quiet now even if I’d wanted to. It was all too much. I knew Marcus found it erotic when I keened in pleasure, because he always said such things, even when the sex was at its worst. My erection was slapping my stomach and pre-cum was leaking everywhere.
Oh, God.
I cried out as I came again. This time, Marcus jutted into me and stayed still. He groaned right into my ear. His breath skimmed hot on my neck, and I could feel his latest offering of cum being added to what he had already placed there earlier. I arched my back and gave a yell of pleasure despite myself, Damn it!
Then it was over, and suddenly all I was aware of, was that my ass was in agony again. I wasn’t going to be able to sit properly for a while, that much was certain.
“That was beautiful, Sex.”
Marcus dragged us back to the couch and laid on it sideways. He was still in me, and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to pull out. I could feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes. I felt so dirty. Dirty, because I’d enjoyed it. I had come without me wanting to.
“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Sex. Your body took pleasure in it. You were truly excited, and…it…was…a…glorious…thing…to see.” Each separate word was accompanied with a nip and lick along my spine. “I am hungry, but you have not replenished your blood from my first drink. You did not finish your juice.”
I winced as he finally pulled free from my body. He reached over me and picked up the glass, sticking the straw between my lips again. The sentiment of ‘No’ was not an option, so I drank the sickly sweet stuff until I was down to the ice cubes. The fact that there were still ice cubes floating in the juice told me that not as much time had passed as I’d thought. I was hoping that he would be leaving soon.
“I am here all night, Sex. There is something important that I have to tend to in the morning, and it will be easier to just stay here with you. Do not move.”
He got up and strolled off to the bar cart to get me something else to drink.
Anything but cranberry juice.
As far as I can tell, vampires don’t eat food, yet Marcus messes with everything that gets sent down here through the dumbwaiter, though he’s limited himself to drinks now, since he almost killed me with food poisoning a while back.
Don’t move, he’d said. Where the hell would I go? I can’t even sit upright. Oh crap. I really needed to shower now, as his sperm was leaking out of me and dribbling down my thighs onto the couch.
He came back carrying cheese, crackers, and another glass of cranberry juice, and then saw my predicament.
“Shower first, eating later. But drink this now.”
After I had choked down that vile drink, he picked me up with the ease of an adult lifting a child, and set me down in the bathroom. I hoped that he would take the cuffs off, but he reached in and turned on the shower for me, instead. Damn it. That meant he was going to wash me.
He shoved me into the water and rested his chin on the top of my head.
I fucking hate that.
He laughed. He was getting aroused again as he soaped up my body. I was fighting myself, fighting not to get an erection so soon or really, at all.
What’s the good in getting clean, only to get dirty and ugly again right away?
“I told you, you looked beautiful. You always look beautiful.”
I scowled at him and turned my face up to the stream of water. A strong hand wrapped around my throat, and I was pulled back against his body. My tied hands were trapped between us, and my fingers brushed his arousal. What was going on? He shouldn’t be aroused; this would be—five?
“I have never lied to you, Sex. Why do you think I would start now? The way your face flushes when desire hits you is absolutely stunning. I can see the blood vessels open in your face to turn it that beautiful shade of pink. I saw hints of it in that bar when I approached you. You were curious, aroused even, but too afraid to show it. I could scent your arousal, that excitement and fear, and the fact that you were a virgin to man sex. I am so glad that your first time was with me.”
Marcus took my hair in his free hand and pulled it out straight under the running water. “I had hoped that it would be longer by now. There is nothing that can be done about it though. It will grow, I am just a little anxious to complete your new look.” Letting go of me, he then proceeded to wash my tresses with all the efficiency of a dog groomer.
I almost fell over when he’d finished and started drying my hair a little too vigorously after we’d gotten out of the shower. I had no idea what my hair looked like now, compared to what it had looked like when I’d been snatched off the streets. There were no mirrors in this place, so I couldn’t see how different it appeared. I knew that it brushed my shoulders, which was a lot longer than I’d ever worn it before, so it probably looked like a rat’s nest most of the time. I had never worn it longer than ear length in my entire life; my mother would never have let me.
Marcus came up behind me again and started to brush my damp locks. I was a bit shocked. This was not the vampire’s usual routine, which was like a certain movie made a few years back—he comes, he eats, he leaves. And he’s done that, over and over. But now he’s staying to braid my hair. I didn’t even think that it would be long enough to do that. Wait, now what is he doing?
He was taking my ear into his mouth, sucking on my ear lobe. That sensation sent shivers down my spine. I turned my head away, and I instantly received his hand on my throat again, holding me still. His tongue came out and licked at the scar on my neck again.
“At least it does not look like it is new. As the years go by it will fade, and someday, it will be almost invisible.” He tenderly kissed the spot. “Come, you need to eat. I want you again before midnight, all of you. Your blood is like a rare vintage. If I took enough, I know I could get drunk.”
I cringed. It’s not comforting to hear your vampiric captor talking about your blood like it’s a fine wine, waiting to be uncorked.
He moved his hand to the back of my neck and propelled me out of the bathroom, back to the leather couch, and flung me back down onto it as if I were a fleshy throw pillow. I laid there. What was the point in moving? He would position me whichever way he wanted to anyway.
“See, you can learn.”
Oh, fuck off.
“Your language needs to be greatly improved. It is rather nippy in here.”
He walked out of my line of sight, but I could hear him talking to whoever it was at the other end of the dumbwaiter before he turned his attention back to me.
“Do you know what first attracted me to you? You were so out of place in that gay bar. You were in physical pain, you were in a three-piece suit that had seen its best wearable hours between nine and five, and you were furious—no, I would say you were seething. I could only assume that you were having a very bad day.”
And you made it worse.
Marcus laughed, and then popped back into my sight, leaning over the couch.
“And I made it worse. Or did I? Do you really hate all of this?”
He ran his hand down my spine, dipping into the shallows before taking the deeper plunge and thrusting a finger inside of me. I hissed in agony. Too much in too short a period of time. Marcus frowned and withdrew his hand. Then he leaned lower over the couch and kissed me gently. That was so not him. What the heck was going on?
He spoke as if he was reminiscing. “Of course after I saw you in person, so lost and hurting with that sparkling, beautiful mind, I knew I had to have you, so I changed plans and drugged you instead.”
What did he mean that he changed plans and drugged me instead? Instead of what? I couldn’t get up my courage to ask that question.
Marcus raised his hand, fanned his fingers, and pressed a small spot on the large gothic-looking ring he wore. A needle-fine lancet popped out. He looked at the little weapon, admiration now in his voice. “I used nothing too elaborate; I find the old tricks are the best tricks. Once it had done its work, I just stuck my hands in your pockets, wrapped your legs around my waist, and carried you out.”
Cake: A Blood Nation Novel (Volume 1) Page 3
