How to Discipline Your Vampire(62)
He laughed.
“You are accepting of my nature as a vampire, but not the fact that I was . . . sexually inexperienced when we met?” he asked incredulously, as an impish smirk threatened to spread into an entire smile.
In response, I lifted my knee and placed the sharp heel of my boot on his seated legs. He made a soft sound, much like a moan, but more angelic. Now that he was unafraid of showing his . . . supernaturalness? . . . I guess he didn’t mind dropping his human façade. “You like my choice in footwear?” I asked, taunting him.
“God, yes, Mistress,” he breathed. I knew at that moment he wanted to be out of the shackles. I smiled in satisfaction. “Lick my boots.”
I threw my foot up over the arm of the chair and brought it to his face. He licked the vinyl, closing his eyes in rapture.
“Suck the heel.”
He took the long point deep into his mouth and opened his eyes.
“I bet you also like my catsuit, William,” I said, unzipping it slowly from the top, exposing an inch of skin, just like in his fantasy, only not a kimono.
He made the angel sound again, and replied, “Yes.”
I slid my hands over the vinyl and path of flesh suggestively. “I’m going to give you a taste,” I said, and he truly moaned this time.
I didn’t tell him what he was going to get a taste of.
“Now, William, I’m surprised I didn’t read anything about drinking blood in your journals. So, is there something you’d like to taste even more than this?” I asked, touching myself intimately and running my wet finger across his lips.
His tongue flicked out hungrily, but the moment he registered my words, his rapture turned to horror.
“Mistress, please, no,” he said, terror creeping its way into his voice.
I grabbed a small penknife from my toy box. It was usually meant to cut rope in case of emergency. Usually.
“What’s the problem, William? You must drink other humans’ blood—why not mine? Doesn’t it tempt you?” I said, twirling the knife between my fingers.
He growled, and frowned, and shook his head violently. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with panic. “You make me feel safe . . . from myself.”
“You won’t hurt me—I’ll make the cut. I understand that most submissives would never hurt their mistress,” I explained, “but this is how I am going to punish you for your . . . less than honest behavior toward me.”
He nearly exploded. “I could break out of these shackles and kill you,” he seethed, in both anger and fear. “I’m completely under your submission, Mistress, to a fault. But what if I don’t notice how much I’ve drunk? You think these can hold me back?” he asked. He flicked his left wrist, and the giant metal shackle fell loose and hit the ground with a foreboding clunk.
My eyes widened.
“Do you dare defy your mistress?” I asked. “Put your hand back and stay still, William,” I challenged.
He placed his wrist back onto the chair and looked at me sternly. “Please, Mistress, allow me to be punished in some other way. Some way that may not threaten your life.” There was sarcasm there, but I knew he was doing it out of concern for me and not out of sassiness.
“No, William,” I said sternly. “You will take the punishment I give you. In fact, your challenging tone has solidified your punishment in my mind. You won’t harm me because I’m your Domme, and it’s in your nature to obey me. You’re a submissive first and a vampire second in my bedroom. Now, take your medicine.”