Captive
If she closed her eyes, Alice could almost
pretend she was somewhere else. Almost.
No matter what she did, there was still the
harness. Knight’s men hadn’t taken it off her, even though she’d
begged them to. It pressed into her skin with a horrible, degrading
sensuality. The black leather straps crossing to either side of her
slit rubbed the skin just enough that she couldn’t forget that
Knight’s hands had been there. He’d been inside of her against her
will, and he would take her again whenever he wanted.
And maybe she’d come again, like some easy
slut. There was nothing she could do about that either. For a long
time she cried, drowning in her own shame and terror.
The other vampires hadn’t even spoken when
they’d thrown her in the cell the night before. They’d simply
pushed her in with their cold claws and shut the door.
Alice’s prison was richly carpeted in white,
but windowless and bare except for a luxuriously large bed. It took
up most of the space, tall, plush and draped in a silvery fur.
Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom small enough to be a closet.
There was nothing in there of interest - only tissues and soap on
the counter. The soap smelled like crushed herbs and rosewater, so
good that she could have taken a bite of it. The part of her brain
still capable of logic told her the reason for the lack of
furnishing: There was nothing here to commit suicide with. Even if
there had been something Alice was not sure she could have done
it.
The overall effect was that of an expensive
hotel crossed with an asylum, and the hotel part was worse. When
she nuzzled into that soft fur and felt it scratching against her
bare belly, she was –for an instant – comfortable as a slave. When
she caught herself it made her want to retch.
After an hour or so a pale servant came,
carrying a tray of gleaming silverware and equally gleaming food. A
succulent roast quail was nestled between fresh spring vegetables
in a tureen in the center. Glossy pastries were in their own dish,
and soup, and more things that she didn’t know. The vampire kicked
the bed where she was curled up, until she jumped.
“Food, slave,” he snarled.
When Alice failed to answer he left the tray
lying on the floor and hissed with disgust.
Was that the ribbon? She reached up
and touched it. It was snug, deep crimson and wound tight around
the soft skin of her throat. Knight’s mark on her – a ‘claim’, he’d
said. She wondered, exhausted, if the servant would have hurt her
without it.
Alice cursed her own weakness, feeling it
like a rock in her stomach. He did NOT do you a favor. Nothing
he did to you was good. Nothing. You are not a slave, she told
herself. That would have been easier to believe if her ass didn’t
sting from his whipping, and if there weren’t leather straps
hugging her chest. She was still wet from his cock inside her, his
cum glistening on her pale thighs.
Alice left the food where it was and crawled
under the fur. Curled up in the warm dark she ground her teeth and
sobbed, trying not to remember how good it had felt.
---
There was no way to tell time, but she
supposed it must have been dusk when they came to wake her. She
didn’t hear them come in, only jolting awake when they slammed the
door behind them.
There were two of them, and she thought they
were the same ones that had helped kidnap her. The vampires leered
at her, glancing at each other as if sharing a private joke. Both
were tall and ivory pale, though shorter than Knight. One was
obviously Scandinavian, or had been in life. His hair shone like
corn-silk, and ice blue eyes stared from other heavy brows. The
other was some confusing mixture; at least part Asian, with soft
chestnut hair. In other circumstances she might have been amazed -
they were two of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. Alice
wondered if Knight chose servants based purely on how attractive
they were, or if all vampires were simply gorgeous.
“Rise
If she closed her eyes, Alice could almost
pretend she was somewhere else. Almost.
No matter what she did, there was still the
harness. Knight’s men hadn’t taken it off her, even though she’d
begged them to. It pressed into her skin with a horrible, degrading
sensuality. The black leather straps crossing to either side of her
slit rubbed the skin just enough that she couldn’t forget that
Knight’s hands had been there. He’d been inside of her against her
will, and he would take her again whenever he wanted.
And maybe she’d come again, like some easy
slut. There was nothing she could do about that either. For a long
time she cried, drowning in her own shame and terror.
The other vampires hadn’t even spoken when
they’d thrown her in the cell the night before. They’d simply
pushed her in with their cold claws and shut the door.
Alice’s prison was richly carpeted in white,
but windowless and bare except for a luxuriously large bed. It took
up most of the space, tall, plush and draped in a silvery fur.
Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom small enough to be a closet.
There was nothing in there of interest - only tissues and soap on
the counter. The soap smelled like crushed herbs and rosewater, so
good that she could have taken a bite of it. The part of her brain
still capable of logic told her the reason for the lack of
furnishing: There was nothing here to commit suicide with. Even if
there had been something Alice was not sure she could have done
it.
The overall effect was that of an expensive
hotel crossed with an asylum, and the hotel part was worse. When
she nuzzled into that soft fur and felt it scratching against her
bare belly, she was –for an instant – comfortable as a slave. When
she caught herself it made her want to retch.
After an hour or so a pale servant came,
carrying a tray of gleaming silverware and equally gleaming food. A
succulent roast quail was nestled between fresh spring vegetables
in a tureen in the center. Glossy pastries were in their own dish,
and soup, and more things that she didn’t know. The vampire kicked
the bed where she was curled up, until she jumped.
“Food, slave,” he snarled.
When Alice failed to answer he left the tray
lying on the floor and hissed with disgust.
Was that the ribbon? She reached up
and touched it. It was snug, deep crimson and wound tight around
the soft skin of her throat. Knight’s mark on her – a ‘claim’, he’d
said. She wondered, exhausted, if the servant would have hurt her
without it.
Alice cursed her own weakness, feeling it
like a rock in her stomach. He did NOT do you a favor. Nothing
he did to you was good. Nothing. You are not a slave, she told
herself. That would have been easier to believe if her ass didn’t
sting from his whipping, and if there weren’t leather straps
hugging her chest. She was still wet from his cock inside her, his
cum glistening on her pale thighs.
Alice left the food where it was and crawled
under the fur. Curled up in the warm dark she ground her teeth and
sobbed, trying not to remember how good it had felt.
---
There was no way to tell time, but she
supposed it must have been dusk when they came to wake her. She
didn’t hear them come in, only jolting awake when they slammed the
door behind them.
There were two of them, and she thought they
were the same ones that had helped kidnap her. The vampires leered
at her, glancing at each other as if sharing a private joke. Both
were tall and ivory pale, though shorter than Knight. One was
obviously Scandinavian, or had been in life. His hair shone like
corn-silk, and ice blue eyes stared from other heavy brows. The
other was some confusing mixture; at least part Asian, with soft
chestnut hair. In other circumstances she might have been amazed -
they were two of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. Alice
wondered if Knight chose servants based purely on how attractive
they were, or if all vampires were simply gorgeous.
“Rise
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