I scanned the rest of the paper, looking for any mention of the missing shifters. Nothing. Unless paras committed nefarious deeds, they got no print or airtime.
I realized I’d begun to squint at the newsprint before my eyes. Things were turning brighter. I looked to the sky. Sure enough, the horizon had turned a peachy-lavender. Dawn was on its way.
I gathered my paper and bottle and put them in the discreet container nearby. Then I stood at the foot of the grave, feeling a sense of relief. Another night had ended. It was time to be me, all me, again.
I knelt and placed my hand on the slight hill before me. Cold as ice, my palm did not melt any of the frost that had formed on the stiff, brittle grass.
Like magic, a fissure opened in a straight line from where my hand lay to the head of the grave. The ground bulged and spit out an ivory white casket so that it sat on the churned soil.
I stood and went to the catch, opening the casket to display the sky-blue satin interior. “Home sweet home,” I sighed. I climbed in and laid down.
It looked pillowy soft, but that was only surface dressing. The hard bottom of the thing was like resting on a plank. No matter; I wasn’t going to be in it for long anyway. I reached up for the lid and slammed it down, plunging myself into darkness.
The casket bucked, like a bull trying to throw a rodeo cowboy. With me safely stowed within, it burrowed its way back into the dirt, pulling me below the earth where Patricia’s body would be safe from the sun.
Then all went still. I waited for the worst thing I’d ever known and the sweetest. They always happened one behind the other. In the minutes before the sun rose, I lay in the second greatest stillness of my existence. The dark and quiet were absolute, especially since I had no need of breath or pulse. I found it claustrophobic even after almost three months of doing this. I wondered if a few hundred years would cure me of wanting to weep in the dark.
Then a greater darkness crept in. Dawn had arrived. Afterlife’s most awful terror came for me.
I felt as if I fell in some nightmare. It was a slow motion sensation, and I sensed some endless pit opening beneath me, sucking me into its infinite depths. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to remind myself that it was only temporary, that the Good Thing would come next, that it would all be okay.
I fell out of Patricia’s body into nothing. For an instant I almost became one with that void, as close to nothing as one can be without ceasing to exist. I had no voice to scream. There was no sensation whatsoever save that of my fading thought of no. Even my consciousness dwindled, becoming the tiniest mote of personality struggling for survival.
Then, far in the distance, came the Sound. Not just a sound, but an all capital letters SOUND. It was music, but it wasn’t. It was a tone, but it wasn’t. It was every voice that had ever lifted in song ... but it wasn’t.
How can I describe the indescribable? It was everything beautiful, everything wondrous, everything miraculous. It lasted for only the briefest of moments, but in that moment I heard Heaven. My soul strained towards it, as if I would fly to some place I knew and yearned for with every mote of my being.
Then I was flung out into the morning. I stood by the unmarked grave, naked as the day I was born, my own Brandilynn Payson self for the too-brief day.
Oh glory to be out of the forever famished, always frozen vampire body! I stretched as if I still had physical muscles, yelling to the rising sun with joy.
Despite being nude on a February morn, I felt no cold. Not being corporeal had its advantages. Like the ability to dance around naked in public. Woohoo!
I couldn’t help but revel in being me. I was a fair-skinned gal but not vampire white by any means. My body was toned because that was how I’d left the earthly plane and best remember myself. My breasts and rear were rounder and fuller than Patricia’s. My long hair was flaming copper red instead of midnight black. My looks could be sophisticated with makeup done right, but I was pretty much country girl fresh and vibrant on my own.
I even liked my big feet today because they were mine. Sure, Patricia’s size sevens were nice in designer shoes, but I’d have given them up in an instant to stay me.
Best of all, I didn’t feel that edge of meanness that came with being hungry all the time. Everyone around me would cease looking like a meal. Boy, I couldn’t wait for summer when the days were longer and I didn’t have to wear the vampire suit so much.
Because I didn’t feel cold and had no care whatsoever that it was winter, I wished myself a gauzy sky blue dress with a short flouncy skirt and halter top. Feeling light and pretty, I envisioned the reading room of the old Fulton Falls Library and felt how much I wanted to be there.
The colors of the frozen green cemetery lawn, darker green hedges, and coral-shaded sky smeared around me like thrown paint. They were replaced by shades of brown and gold. My surroundings solidified again, and I was in the library.
The old Fulton Falls Library, like the King George, had been victimized by the big fire. Unlike the King George, nothing of its physical remains still stood. Much-loved buildings have their own afterlife among the dead. What I appeared within was the ghost of the original library, buried deep underground.
It felt and looked real enough to me. The stately brick building was far more charming than the modern library that had taken its place above ground. Small table lamps cast little islands of soft golden illumination. Long tables of dark wood marched in a row down the center of the main room. Banks of gleaming wooden shelves filled with books surrounded me. I stood on a richly patterned gold and burgundy rug, probably one of the first made on a machine. The library had been built in the Victorian era.
Perhaps best of all was that particular booksy smell that all libraries seem to have. I also detected an undercurrent of something burnt, which accompanied much of what lay below ground in the buried remains of old Fulton Falls. But mostly I smelled books. The aroma was more like home to me than any house or apartment had ever been in life.
The sweetest sight of all was to be found behind the head librarian’s desk. Dan sat there, reading in a pose that had become familiar since my arrival among the dead eleven months ago. He leaned back in the leather chair, his dark hair mussed, cheek propped against his fist. His sensible loafers propped on the wooden desk with its old fashioned stamp, a pull-chain lamp, a couple of steel-tipped fountain pens, and a scattering of books.
He noticed me coming his way. His feet hit the floor with a thump and he put the book down on the desk. As soon as his hand left it, it disappeared. Books and supplies not minded constantly put themselves away. It was a pain in the rear when one had to stop reading in the middle of a passage, but we’ve gotten used to it.
The smile crinkling Dan’s rugged face was all the welcome I needed, but he said, “Hi,” anyway.
I skipped around the desk and slid into his lap. “Hi.” The next instant I covered that handsome mug with kisses.
I usually celebrated being back to me by jumping Dan’s bones. My libido hummed along quite nicely already. Dan laughed at my exuberance and enjoyed the attention for about a minute before pushing me back a little to slow me down.
“Good morning to you too,” he grinned.
I felt plenty of interest rising within his khakis and wriggled my damp crotch against him. “All mornings are good,” I said. It was nice to feel him in the flesh once more.
Darn the man, he insisted on business first. “What was up with Tristan?”
I gave him another kiss to reward him for giving me my privacy with his former rival. “Not much, actually. He offered an apology for being a buttwipe.”
“Buttwipe?” Dan laughed. Since I abhorred profanity, he found my workaround potty language amusing. I say it’s better to be ridiculous than crude.
I ignored the humor. “He promised to make the clutch treat me less plague-y. And he said he’d do better himself.”
“Do you think he’s sincere?” Dan stroked a lock of my hair that had fallen over one brea
st.
I shivered at the slight contact. “Who knows anymore? I sure don’t. Maybe he was being nice to get me to agree to go to the commission meeting tonight. That seemed to be his biggest concern.”
Dan nodded. “The norms have noticed Patricia’s extended absence. There is gossip.”
I rolled my eyes. “There is always gossip. People have nothing better to do than mind everyone else’s business in this town. I said I would go and glare at anyone who needed it.”
Dan gave me a wink. “Keep the red out of your eyes and the fangs out of your mouth.”
I’d had enough conversation. “How about putting the you into me?”
He snorted. “Do you call that a seduction?”
I grinned. Despite the nonchalant attitude he gave me, I felt Dan’s avid interest twitching under my pussy.
I slid down his legs to end up kneeling on the floor. “No, I call this a seduction.”
With that, I wished my dress away. Being a ghost was handy in that respect. I spread my folded legs wide, exposing my pussy. At the same time, I laced my fingers behind my neck and held my elbows out, my shoulders pulled back to lift my breasts like an offering. I cast my eyes to the floor between Dan’s feet.
“How may I serve you, Sir?” I asked in my most submissive tone.
Dan’s happy sigh warmed me from head to toe. Other things warmed when I saw him opening his fly. I kept my gaze glued to the floor, but my peripheral vision didn’t miss the mouthwatering vision of hard and ready cock bobbing free.
“Hands behind your back. Put that pretty mouth to work, baby girl,” came the husky voice of my master.
We were ghosts, but our memories held everything we needed to make good stuff happen. I was delighted to see a pearlescent drop had already formed on the tip of Dan’s shaft. I licked salty, musky goodness, moaning my pleasure at the gift.
I licked all over the velvety smooth head of him, tracing dips and ridges with the tip of my tongue. Heavens, he tasted delicious. One of his hands buried in my hair, clutching a fistful and holding it tight. I creamed to feel his control over me.
“Kiss the head of my cock, baby girl. Kiss it like a good little subbie.”
I obeyed, my lips closing over livid, pulsing flesh. When things got good, we remembered things like heartbeats and breathing. It was close to having a body again. Not perfectly so, but near enough to count.
I ran my tongue over and over his silky cockhead, sucking it into my mouth like a lollipop. His hold on my hair tightened. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming and I readied for it.
Sure enough Dan pressed my face down, making me take his full length into my mouth and down my throat. One of the great things about sex after death was that we didn’t need to breathe. Dan could have pounded my face all day long and it wouldn’t have bothered me. However my big sexy Sir liked things a little noisy and forceful. So I obliged him.
I gagged and struggled against his hold on me. He held me down, keeping himself embedded until he pulled me off with a satisfied grunt. I rolled streaming eyes up to see him looking very lord and master. Ah, how I loved that look of power he gets. It was so exciting. I could feel juices running down my inner thighs as I responded to his strength.
He pushed me down slowly while simultaneously raising his hips. He didn’t make me take so much that time or the next. But the third time, my face met his pelvis.
“That’s right, baby girl. Take it all. Take every last bit of Sir’s cock.”
The choking sounds I made were ugly and un-ladylike. But they were what gave Dan a thrill, and his thrills were mine. I loved being his to enjoy as he wished.
Right now he wished me to gag on his shaft. Every third or fourth stroke his thickness shoved deep inside, getting the reaction he enjoyed. I bucked and strained and coughed ... and adored it.
Dan groaned, his prick jerking. “Enough. If I don’t quit I’m going to come right down your throat. Get up on the desk.”
I released him, keeping my expression one of surrender ... I knew better than to let him see it when I felt smug. I liked funishment, not punishment.
Dan swept the desktop clean. The items that hit the floor would eventually find their own way back on the polished wood surface. Because he was a gentleman even when he dominated like a beast, Dan offered his assistance as I climbed to my feet. I smiled my appreciation and hopped up on the desk.
He told me, “Those wrists and ankles need some long silk scarves tied to them.”
Just as I could conjure any outfit I wanted, I could also supply my own bondage gear. I had slippery-soft scarves tied nice and tight where Dan wanted them in an instant. I loved not having to worry about issues like circulation.
My gorgeous hunk of a man secured me to the desk, spreading my arms and legs wide. His calloused finger traced my parted slit, finding me wet and eager. I giggle-groaned to feel his rough flesh rasp against my softness.
“You like that, huh?” Dan’s half-smile was all evil. “While we’re at it, you can wear a ball gag. I’m done with that pretty mouth.”
I had a mouthful of rubber in an instant. I didn’t think twice about obeying my master. Besides, I was a mouthy gal. This would help keep me out of trouble. Maybe.
Besides, if he gagged me, there was a pretty good shot at him doing something to make me scream and beg for mercy. Not that I’d get any such thing ... nor want it. My sex zinged with excitement, sending more wetness out to coat Dan’s finger as it slid over me.
“That’s right. Baby girl likes it when she’s helpless and can’t ask for things to stop.” Dan’s gaze roamed up and down my body with an attitude of ownership. “All mine to play with as I please, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Well, I could always make the scarves holding me down disappear. I could always ‘port myself far away. But we were in our fantasy, where he controlled my pleasure and agony. I couldn’t imagine defying him in any way. Dan loved me, heaven help the man. I trusted him with everything.
He enjoyed testing that trust. “Vibrator, as thick and long as me.”
My pussy swelled with the new presence of the filling toy. I made it as flesh-like as I could, envisioning Dan’s gorgeous cock as the model. I moaned around the gag to feel it there.
Dan grabbed the base of it, which was all that was visible. He eased it in and out, using it to have his way with me. I lay wide open, a fine trembling breaking over my body as he angled it to stimulate my G-spot.
“Take it, girl. Take that cock,” he breathed, watching as he made the dildo disappear into my hairless pussy. He licked his lips. His cock bobbed up and down, expressing its appreciation of the show.
I felt so vulnerable like that, being made to take the toy while Dan watched. I was a little plaything, someone who existed solely for her master’s pleasure. The wonderful, scary thing was that he was just getting started on me.
He flipped the switch on the vibrator, continuing to press it rhythmically against my hotspot. I arched as much as my bonds allowed, crying out behind the gag. Delicious bites of excitement darted through my sheath. The dildo moved faster as I grew wetter, making its path easy.
“Nipple clamps,” Dan breathed, staring at me. “Thai sticks.”
Again I placed the items on my body without thought. On the heels of that, my brain yelled a rude word. I was in for some amazing pain.
A pair of long black rods appeared on each tight nipple, trapping the sensitive flesh between their lengths. Elastic bands gave tension to their grip at each joined end. I had conjured them with the bands all the way at the ends for the lightest possible pressure.
Of course Dan wasn’t about to let them stay that way. His chocolate eyes darkening with intent, he shoved the vibrator deep into me. The toy vibrated hard against my G-spot, enthralling me despite knowing torment was on its way.
Dan reached for the Thai sticks. He leisurely rolled the bands towards the middle of the clamp holding my right nipple, watching my face all the while. The pressure
went from firm to pain quickly. I cried out as heat seared my breast. My instinctive urge was to jerk away, to deny my master complete acquiescence. I fought to remain still as he tormented me, continuing to move the bands closer together. A familiar mantra filled my head: his to play with, his to play with, his to play with.
I maintained control until a greater pain hit, much what I’d imagine being stabbed by an ice pick to feel like. I screamed and twisted. Dan grunted and gave the bands one last little roll before moving to the other trapped nipple.
I couldn’t stop writhing at that point. Profound heat and throbbing doubled. My choked sounds of anguish rang in the cavernous reading room. Agony filled my senses, my world centering on it.
Yet a part of me reveled in surrendering all to the man I loved. I was aware of him standing over me, his dark eyes taking in my misery, his face filled with adoration as I submitted to him in everything. Between my cries I heard Dan sigh. He stroked his cock as he watched me struggle. A small part of me knew that for any distress I suffered, I would be given double the ecstasy.
But for the moment, it hurt like crazy. It hurt so much that I couldn’t think of things like losing Tristan, screwing Gerald in a moment of weakness, and being stuck in Patricia’s vampire body half the time – a body I still couldn’t fly after weeks of trying. Pain had its uses.
Little by little, my tortured nipples began to numb. At the same time, Dan slid the humming vibrator in and out of me again while one thumb drew slow circles around my clit. Pain and arousal each made a bid for my attention. At first the torment of my tits held sway, making the slow licks of pleasure almost nonexistent. Then came a gradual shifting as my delight in surrender and helplessness fed lust. Heady exaltation bloomed deep in my belly, warring more intently with the slow easing of suffering. Endorphins kicked in, draining distress and twisting what hurt remained into something incredible.
Animal Attraction Page 6
