She would be screaming and begging and pleading, and then she would calm, turn to face me, and come, with this fierce look of victory, and defiance, and pleasure on her face.
He told her not to but never actually punished her for the orgasms. He liked them, she liked them. They felt good to both of them, and they were her only real outlet, her way of "getting back at" Him. She thought He punished her for them, but He would have fucked her that hard if she didn't come, too.
The cruel game. Pitch black, and of course he can see. I have to find the end of the maze before He catches me, or else I become the prize. If I find the end of the maze, sometimes there is a "prize" for me at the end, too. A person, screaming for help or in pain is my guide through the darkness; and my prize. If there is someone in the middle of the maze, I can choose to have her replace me as the evening meal, or I can have her as my evening meal, and still become one myself.
So many times I would come around the corner just as the last screams died, only to find a fresh kill. I can't stand being second. I need that hunt. I can't run that hard just to know I've failed and will still be punished as well as deprived of my MY kill. I need this. I will beat Him, I will win, and I will eat my feast, no matter what the consequences.
The door opened, and I raced out into the blackness. I put my nose to the ground for a moment to find where in the maze I was, and headed for the center.
The last time I was in the maze, I took my time and learned as much of it as I could in the dark. The maze doesn't change, but my location of release does. There are over twenty release points in the outside edge alone. Closer to the middle, but you have to work your way all the way back to the outside before getting to the center point, there are at least fifteen release points. This prize was screaming something dreadful, He must have frightened her severely already. That was perfect for my intentions. I learned as much of the maze as I could, allowing my time to run out as He raced to the center, or more appropriately, walked at His leisure to the center, as He had the damn thing memorized, since He built it. I marked as much of the way to the center as I could without suspicion, using very subtle sweat and nervous scents, and occasionally brushed up against an important corner, one hand on the wall at all times. The screaming was still going strong, He hadn't reached her yet. There would be a huge shift in tone when that one saw Him, or else was bitten by Him without seeing Him. I had the outside memorized, and moved forward to the inner portion. That's when she saw Him. He hadn't started feeding yet, there was no pain, only fear in her voice. I kept learning, and didn't rush yet.
When He bit her, I began moving toward the middle with higher speed, knowing my fight would be better on even ground, when I knew where I was, and with a small light to help me defend myself. I knew I wouldn't win against Him, but when my prey is taken, there is a huge part of me that just goes insane, and I need the fight. I need to challenge the established order, especially with the smell of blood and no opportunity to get anything from it. I reached the center, with the light and the fresh victim and her broken neck, just as He was finishing. I ran forward, and got in a good hit before He vanished upward out of my view. I let loose completely and relied solely on my instincts, blunted as they are in my human form. He missed! Maybe I can do this after all- And of course, stopping to have human feelings and thoughts and concerns gave me away again. I crouched and readied myself.
He beat my ass.
After I was thoroughly spent of all my anger and animal frustration, He did what He always does. He fucked me. He says it's "to assert dominance" over a lesser creature/opponent. I call it rubbing it in, and being a sore loser. A very sore loser. It feels like the bruises from being fucked on concrete never fade. Knowing that the next time I would have a severe advantage as opposed to the last time I was in here. Just thinking of that made me come more than normal. He'll never control that. He keeps trying, but it's a part of me. It's something that no matter how far He gets into my head, I'll still control. Sometimes, you want something so badly that it transcends the human and animal part of you, and you just know you're in control through your whole being. Every time He told me to stop it, I came on Him. and more. He hurt me tonight. More than normal. I really spent myself fighting this time. Normally I hold back a small part of me, but I knew that this would be different from now on, and I wanted to see how well I'd do. He upped His game with mine. I did much better than I've ever done before now, but He made sure I paid dearly for every hit I got in. Where were we? Oh, that's right, the sex. It was absolutely juicy, but I was so spent that I didn't give myself the leeway I normally do for healing during sex. By the end of it, I was begging Him to bite me to make the pain stop. The normal, small bits of healing that typically happen between thrusts, didn't. My body doesn't heal minor injuries when it's expecting a larger one that it might need energy to heal later. I passed a limit that I normally don't. He dropped me and walked away, making me think He wasn't going to feed. He left the room one door, came in another unseen and then fed on me by surprise.
The gasp, the fear, and then the escape from pain after the one brief sharp bite. He eats neatly. A lot of vampires are sloppy, but He tries not to make a huge mess. I'm glad. The bite marks are starting to scar, (vampire teeth do that, even to werewolves, but it takes several times in one place before it takes, and the bites heal more slowly, like a piercing on a human rather than a normal wound for us) and I only have two of them, which isn't my doing, but it's an accomplishment I'm proud of nonetheless. I'll be able to walk around, and people won't mess with me. No one fucks with someone who's been bitten. You can't tell without some other sign whether they're a vampire themselves or some sort of property.
There is another sign to indicate slavery, and it is only normally done permanently for humans, for obvious reasons, I suppose. The first time a human is taken into slavery for life, they have a middle finger cut off. This means that they are going to be a slave for the rest of their life, whether to that Master or not. DNA from that finger is taken and put on file so that it can be matched to. If that slave ever runs away, kills his current "life" Master, and is caught, then at the time of his repurchase and slavery to someone else, another finger on the same hand is cut off. The fingers are the middle finger and the finger between the middle finger and the pinky of the left hand, for humans. If this slave tries again to escape, is caught, and the owner doesn't want them or is deceased, the slave becomes property of the government, to be used however they see fit. Sometimes that means experiments, sometimes it means they get to do paperwork. It's typically weapons testing, though. This is a decently large deterrent since no one would want to have the newest most painful bullet tested in their leg or head.
With werewolves, it is a much different story. Since the fingers grow back, and we look human when we want to, it's fairly impossible to keep us fingerless, as well as impractical. The only time a werewolf is removed of the use of his or her fingers (on the right hand this time, to separate us from humans as full disclosure is a slave thing or whatever) is when going out in public. In this case, a metal (silver of course) plate is put into the gap between the fingers, to cover the wound, so that the fingers wont grow back until it is removed. Of course it heals in a temporary fashion, the skin grows up over it, or else blood would be squirting and oozing everywhere. The plate attaches to a silver bracelet, effectively making a slave bracelet in a way. Except the bracelet is more like a single handcuff.
All of this is preferential of course, meaning a Master only does this if He desires to. It is simply the "by the book" way of doing things if one wishes to recognize the Master/slave dynamic in public, and have the law recognize His rights in public as well. Rights like punishing, fucking, or even killing a slave in a public place for any reason or whim. Of course, killing requires an announcement so that small children and others who are easily offended may leave before it happens, and all messes must be cleaned up and of course it's not allowed in areas where food is being prepared or served, but for what it is, (murder) the government is pretty lenient about it as long as you have the proper paperwork.
We're supposed to be going somewhere tomorrow. Hope it's not somewhere boring. Knowing Him, it's probably somewhere painful.
He had a pair of heels made for me that feel as if I'm walking on my animal hind legs. It is comfortable, and makes me more secure in myself when I'm naked, even though I'm shaved and unreasonably exposed. It's so much easier to walk in them, and they're quiet as well. I've never seen or heard of shoes like this before. I don't know how or why He did it, if there is some ulterior motive, but I absolutely adore them.
After writing, she writes something on a page, folds it many many times, and puts it into the teddy bear that was in her sleep-box. If He is to take the teddy bear and take the note out, all He will find will be a paper that says, "If you're reading this, know that I can smell you." If the note disappears, she will notice and know where it has gone, but if He puts it back, she will smell His scent and know that her hiding place is unsafe.
No, it's not like that at all. It's not a calculated success vs failure rate. It's a preference.
To feel powerful, in one way or another is inevitable, so whichever way or bonus you prefer is what you live by. You can accomplish a task using either manipulation or feelings, charisma, if you say, or brute force, people running every which way in feel, the screams, the whole show. Either way, it gets the job done. One way is cleaner, makes less enemies, and gives one a sense of mental dominance. The other can be a lot of fun, but reeks of old horror movie tacky style, and the incapability to plan ahead enough to get someone else to do it. But of course I'm biased. Even those who fear Me, like you for example, hold a small admiration. I don't lose my temper, I'm cold, calculating, decide things based on my own internal knowledge, not because I'm pushed into a decision, but at the same time, I can appear warm, friendly, and positive.
Life can get boring without emotions, without humor, without a challenge.
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