Unconventional Assumptions

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following story contains adult language and sexual situations, if you are below the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW.  I would like to dedicate this to my fellow members of Gratista Vampire Clan who’s diablolical and talented leader Mistress Rae found in her dark heart to invite me to join.  Raise a cup of non-sparkling nosferatu beverage, relax and enjoy!

Unconventional Assumptions

            I don’t know what possessed me to bother to attend it, but the 21st Annual Vampire and Horror Convention in Cincinnati was packed with teeming throngs of wannabe bloodsuckers.  The press of the bodies of those attending made me feel quite claustrophobic and thus uncomfortable.  Everywhere I looked I saw smiling fanged mouths, white powdered faces and a variety of gothic attire.  There were the classic tuxedo wearing men, Victorian garbed women in lacy gowns and a naturally a huge contingent of the vapid Twilight-obsessed crowd.   I had bumped into a hundred Draculas, countless Lestrades and an endless supply of Edwards and Bellas.  All around me they cavorted in capes, leather and drastic makeup.  People wrapped up in their favorite vampire creating a throng of pushing and walking humanity making my natural urges scream at me to leave suddenly.

            It was the second day of the event and walking through it in a lackluster mood I tried to uncover the nagging reason for why I had bothered to attend.  Was it out of sheer boredom?  Did I think I’d discover something about myself here?  Was I looking for some yet undiscovered excitement?  Whatever it was which caused me to take time out of my life to pay for a ticket to the nosferatu-themed expo still had a firm grip on my mind.   Like some carriage driver from days long past it cracked a whip over my consciousness silently and unexplainably forcing me to stay and wander.

            I passed by a booth selling false fangs hypocritically proclaiming on a large overhead banner their realness.  Fighting the urge to laugh I leaned over the counter just to see the quality. 

            “I see you’re a discriminating consumer,” a man’s deep, tremolo voice rumbled.

            I turned to see a very tall, thin man standing over my left shoulder.  Dressed in an Edwardian getup he was the very model of an Anne Rice vampire.  His dark hair was black as sin, wavy, combed back and slick with an herbal smelling gel.  His mane was held back in a ponytail by a beaten silver ring.  The intruder’s eyes with their red rims and dark brown irises bore into mine.  His nose was long an aristocratic.  The stranger’s lips as red and deep as Italian table wine, pursed in a pinched manner at the corners making his expression appear amused, yet possessed the distinct traces of a predator. 

Something bore into me like a worm making its way into a coffin to dine on the wasted, moldy flesh therein.  It penetrated my mind with relative ease and seemed to crawl around seeking answers to my identity, age and vulnerabilities.  The violation made me shiver and caused goose bumps to dot the exposed flesh of my arms and legs.  My thoughts were bared and he appeared to be able to scan them with the same general ease he could gaze upon my legs, arms and face.  No mental block I could summon up could oust him from my brain.  The psychic link he had made likened my brain’s defenses to the thin black material of my tube dress.  The dreadful feeling of having someone so quickly overcome my will made me feel horribly exposed.  I shifted my feet, almost falling forward from the misstep of my high heels.

            “Excuse me,” I hoarsely whispered. “I can’t get past you.”

            “Leaving so soon?” he inquired.

            The man’s voice was thick with a deep timbre and like the humidity of a summer’s day it cascaded over my body making me begin to sweat uncomfortably. 

            “Yes I-I’m late for a panel,” I lied.  “I really must go.”

            He laughed.

            It was a throaty chuckle that rumbled from far beneath his sternum and bubbled out of his thin lips.  I felt my knees buckle from the sound.  It was so manly, virile and sexual I long for him to do it again.  Bending at the waist in a very graceful and polite manner he spoke again.

            “My name is Trevor, Trevor McAllister at your service, my dear,” he stated.

            “I-I’m Jane Williams,” I stammered back.

            “It’s an honor and pleasure to meet you, Jane Williams.”

            “Same here.”

            “This isn’t your first convention.  Pardon my intrusion but I sense a bit of disappointment and mild disgust at our fellow enthusiasts.”

            “How did you know that?”

            “I study people.  You see it’s a hobby of mine.  I can tell by your expression, stance and the upward crook of your lips you find this all very amusing, in a sarcastic way.”

            He had me there.  Whatever mental prowess he possessed was right on the mark with how I felt about all the wannabes strutting around with their made-up faces, stereotypical dress and contrived mannerisms.

            “I’d say you’re observation is accurate,” I smiled tentatively.

            “Perhaps you would like a cup of tea,” he stated rather than asked.

            “Is that an offer or are you reading my mind?”

            “Both perhaps, what do you say?”

            His brown eyes drilled further into my thoughts plucking out my unconscious need to leave the convention floor and enjoy something besides all the fakery.  My hands began to tremble slightly and I found myself unable to break eye contact with him.  Tea sounded good, but not as interesting as Trevor.

            “I’d like that,” I heard myself say.

            “Then allow me to escort you to the hotel diner,” Trevor smiled.

            He offered me his crooked elbow and I couldn’t believe my immediate reaction as I slipped my arm through it.  Flicking a cane between a pair of fat white-faced vampire girls he brushed them aside and made a space for us to exit.  His long legs quickly matched my shorter stride without much effort.  His presence vibrated into my body, a pleasant thrumming feeling which I succumbed to with a guilty pleasure.

            “I must confess I have been following you for the past quarter hour,” Trevor said.  “Unlike the rest of these giggling, near hysterical girls I found in you something I liked—eerily familiarity about you.”

            I could only nod in agreement.  Turning away from his mesmerizing eyes I noticed for the first time almost every female in the crowd would turn his way with wanting gazes and their lower lip caught up in white teeth.  It wasn’t unusual as we walked past to hear them sigh.  The soft cooing sound reminded me of morning doves’ love calls.  Lips were licked and chests were thrust out to try to rein in his attention.  As we passed one youngster I could almost hear the shattering sound of her puberty breaking.  She said hello and in her utterance I heard the tinkling, musical tones of her innocence falling like broken glass upon a bathroom floor.  In short she, like the others we passed melted at just seeing Trevor.

            We made our way past the milling crowd and into the cafeteria.  He found me a seat and with smooth gentlemanly manners pulled it out for me, allowed me to sit down and then gently aided me in scooting the seat closer to the table.  With another effortless bow he moved away to fetch us our tea.

            I couldn’t figure out why I was reacting to him.  He was handsome, debonair and suave but I was no tittering virgin like those females we had left behind.  My experiences in both life and men were no help against the raw commanding power of Trevor’s august presence.  Just as I thought I had a handle on it, he returned and without trying defeated my hastily put together countermeasures.

            “If I might suggest,” he began, “the Earl Grey by this particular company is quite good.  If that’s not to your liking I would urge you to try the Oolong.”

            “Earl Grey is just fine,” I responded.

            He rapidly and errant-free broke open the small package and dropped it into the cup.  Trevor poured the hot water from the small stainless steel container causing a small, curling cloud of steam to rise above the rim. 

            “So where are you from?” he inquired tenderly.

            “Here, I live in the Queen City,” I answered.

            “Still I am quite curious to why, on a Saturday night, you would seek out such a dull and falsely laden activity.  Are you a fan of vampires?”

            I smiled faintly, my lips trembling above the rim of the Styrofoam cup.  Part of me wanted to know about him, but I feared it would be too mundane and destroy the mystery I was captivated by.  I decided to hold my queries for another time. 

            “So you are interested in the myths and legends of those who live off the blood of others.” He stated.

            “It amuses me at times.” I remarked.

            “Truly?”

            “I guess I’m a closet fan.  I’ve read the usual books and have indulged myself in wondering where the writers of such novels got their inspirations.”

            “But I sense there’s something you seek—some forbidden knowledge perhaps?  I feel a common bond between us, a need which emulates off of you like the heat of a furnace.  No I am in error, I detect your furnace is in need of stoking.”

            His frank and sexually laden words seemed to drape a cloak over us.  Like some magical spell those around us were masked from our private conversation and I noticed they seemed unaware we even sat nearby.  A spark of panic caused me to look around for help, an instinctive reaction on my part.  He was moving too fast, even for my tastes.

            “W-what do you mean by that?” I queried.

            “Nothing perhaps,” he said.  “Or maybe I have seen into your soul, Jane.”

            “I doubt that.”

            He leaned forward, his face taking on a hawk-like fierceness.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, like some frightened rabbit staring up into the sky while the predatory bird swooped down.  Too afraid of my impending doom I was frozen to the spot I sat on.

            “If I may be so bold,” he deeply cooed.  “I can feel it, this hunger just beneath your skin and it longs to be indulged, satisfied and examined.”

            “No I am in control of my passions.”

            “I beg to differ.  You perceive yourself as a dominant personality, yet I can see the truth as easily in your gray eyes you have an inner need to give yourself without reservations to the right person.”

            His orations and observations made my body quiver unexpectedly and I fought to try to stave off this intrusion into my private fantasies.  However no matter how hard I tried Trevor was right on the money.  I was very aroused by his musings and felt the desperation to indulge myself in them.

            “I am well versed in such things,” he whispered.  “I can teach you about yourself, bring to the surface the pleasures you long for.  However I am not so rude or crass to thrust them upon your person just because I can sense them.  It is your choice entirely.  We can adjourn to my room and take pleasure in discovering these hidden desires.  However I would have your cooperation and consent for despite my ability to delve into your heart’s mysteries, speak the right words and summon forth this need, I am no cad or villain to force you.”

            His unabashed offer hung there calling forth a smoldering, tantalizing and ethereal image between us.  My imagination perhaps contorted the steam of our cups into twisting shapes.  I could see them dancing and thrusting against one another in the smoky veil above the small circular table.  It sharpened into our bodies, naked and sweaty lunging into one another.  My ears rang suddenly and whether true or not I swore I could hear the soft cries.  Sobbing and begging the things we would utter if I indulged myself with him and tossed caution to the uncaring and tempestuous winds.  A howling of lusty passion coursed through my being.   I never wanted a man so bad in my life and this helped me make my decision.

            “I have no choice,” I husked out without thinking.  “I know not by what sorcery you have called this all forth but I don’t think I can forsake your kind offer.”

            Oh it was poetic and pretty, totally lacking in the truth of what I wanted to do to him naked.

            “Then take your time and finish your tea, my dear,” Trevor said.

            I looked into the milky haze of my white foam cup.  What swirled there didn’t interest me anymore for it wasn’t the stuff I craved now.  Despite its smooth flavor and heat my brain found it lacking in sated what I wanted in every sense.

            “I’m not thirsty anymore,” I said, almost with a moan of despair.

            “Then come with me,” he told me, offering me his smooth hand.

****

            The elevator ride filled me with a soul wracking suffering due to its leisurely pace.  I hugged my body against his fighting the urge to kiss him passionately.  His tall form seemed to not react to my hot burning need.  Breathing was an effort for me.  I sucked in air and expelled it in a near sob-like expulsion.  Trevor was like stone, a statue of calm serenity, unaffected by my carnal sufferings.  The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

            “Follow me please,” he said in a languished tone.

            I couldn’t answer but clung to his elbow like a sailor would a chunk of debris after a shipwreck.  We strolled down the long, silent hall to his room.  He produced an electronic keycard and swiped it through the slot above the handle.  The small light flashed from red to green indicating he could enter.  Trevor opened the door.

            “Come inside and do not be afraid,” he murmured calmingly.  “I will not hurt you.”

            Still the ability to answer him wasn’t mine to utilize.  He gestured with his right arm and I stumbled into the darkened chamber under a barely contained control I longed to lose.  The clicking of the door behind me still sent anxiety throughout my body.  Was this smart?  Did I really want to go through with this?  He could be a rapist, a murderer or even a kidnapper.

            Trevor strolled around me while I stood stock-still in the center of the room.  I could feel his eyes brushing over my body, examining it like some wonderful piece of art.  My nipples grew erect, my panties dampened and my libido soared wildly out of control.

            “You are beautiful,” he stated warmly.

            “T-thank you,” I stuttered.

            “Unlike so many others downstairs you are not a lump of idiotic fat nor are you so dreadfully thin I fear I might break you.”

            My carnal need thundered through me, my heart pounded until I could feel its beat in every fiber of my being.  His words, so carefully chosen made me bite my lip.

            “I have never seen such long black hair, it almost flashes with a shining blueness due to its deep shade,” he continued.  “Your dress was artfully picked out by you.  The shortness of it almost cups your bottom but still maintains an air of dignity and maturity. Your modest bosom is covered but the red ruby necklace, dangling precariously by the golden chain draws the eye to the cleavage created by your bra.  Your earrings hang like dried droplets of blood from your perfectly formed lobes.  Ah you are quite a feast for the eyes Jane.”

            Each sentence ripped free the straining bonds I had remaining upon my desire.  His honest comments thrilled me, evoked my lust and stoked it to a blazing inferno.

            “Your neck is aristocratic, your face heart-shaped and beautiful,” Trevor remarked.

            “T-thank you,” I managed to say.

            “So I ask again, do you truly believe you are a dominate personality?”

            “Yes.”

            “I think not.  As we stand here I know no matter what I suggest you will do it without hesitation.  Your desire to be submissive, to please me will not allow you to resist.”

            In the secret chamber of my heart I knew him to be correct.  The falseness of my exerted control over my past few lovers became exposed by his comment.  Trevor’s words tore away the trivial belief I didn’t want to submit to a man.  He had seen into my soul’s true need, the first to ever do so in many a year.

            “Disrobe,” he softly commanded.

            I took a step back in shocked horror.  His eyes took on a flinty sharpness and I couldn’t tear myself away from them.  Icy coldness combined with that searing heat of lust shot up my spine when I realized my arm had crooked behind my back, reaching for the zipper.  I tugged it downward, our gazes still locked.  His expression never changed. 

            The shoulders of my tube dress became loose and sagged towards my breasts.  I slid the material off of me and it fell down past my flat stomach where I was forced to roll it over my ample hips.  The dress collapsed as easily as my will and puddle in a midnight pool around my high heels.  I shivered in just my bra and lacy panties.

            “You are perfection,” he husked out. 

            My heart quivered at the desire now present in his voice.

            “Thank you Trevor,” I muttered.

            “Step out of the dress, remove your shoes, bra and panties.”

            My heart cried out in agony when his need disappeared from his tone when he uttered the second command.  I gingerly untangled my feet from the fabric around them. My trembling hands reached once more behind me and unclasped my bra strap.  It fell around as I slipped out of it.  My nipples ached with longing for his touch after being fully bared for Trevor’s eyes.  Wiggling out of my black panties I stood there, naked as the day I was born and just as vulnerable.

            “You are without pubic hair,” he said, noting my baldness there.

            I could only nod in the affirmative.  Deep in my mind I prayed he wouldn’t discover my most hidden secret, the thing I kept from everyone.

            “Sit down at the table,” he instructed.

            My brow furrowed in confusion.  Why didn’t he touch me, kiss me or fondle my delicate assets?  I stifled a sniffle of regret but did as he said. 

            “Cross your left leg over your right,” Trevor stated.

            I did so.

            “Entwine your fingers together and place your hands in your lap.”

            Again I followed his commands without question.

            Trevor removed his velvet jacket, folded it neatly and set it on the table in front of me.  He leisurely, seductively undid the buttons on his frilly sleeves.  His fingers were long, delicate and tipped with perfectly groomed nails.  I shivered when I noticed they were filed to points.  My back convulsed after I fantasized about those raking my back leaving bloody grooves in my flesh.  Trevor unbuttoned his Edwardian tie and shirt.  Exposing a hairless chest, narrow and effeminate without a flourish of theatrics he slid it off his body.  My libido went into overdrive, my loins throbbed and my fingers longed to stroke the pale skin.  My breath caught in my throat when his hands unbuckled his belt.  Trying not to cry out in despair I watched him cross the floor to the bed.  With an expert’s ease he tugged off his low boots, his socks followed suit.  Trevor’s feet were as finely boned as his hands. 

            He stood up and took of his pants in a matter-of-fact manner and again my lungs froze when I saw he wore no underwear.  Trevor’s torso was smooth and only a faint trail of black curling hair wove down from his navel to the trimmed mane above his loins.  I couldn’t stop staring while he folded his pants and kicked his boots and socks under the bed.  My body was a thumping mass of quivering need when he took stroll around the table.  Unbinding his hair I witnessed it swing forward in a soft, black curtain around his face.

            “Your desire is overwhelming you, is it not?” he asked.

            “Yes,” I gulped.

            “How badly do you suffer?”

            “I-it is indescribable.”

            “You burn, ache and shiver with carnal need.  I will prolong this until I feel you are ready to experience the fullness of what you crave beyond all else.”

            I had no words to reply to this.

            He pulled out the other chair and sat upon it.  From across the table his eyes bore into mine as well as my soul. 

            “Come here,” he instructed.

            I stood up on shaky legs and moved in front of him. 

            “Take off your wig,” he whispered.

            My heart leapt in fear, he had correctly deduced the secret condition I had possessed since childhood! How was this possible?

            “No,” I said.

            “There will be no secrets between us Jane,” Trevor demanded.

            “I c-cannot do this.”

            “You must.”

            “Please you don’t understand my condition—it’s humiliating!”

            “Being yourself, the true person you are is not a shameful act.  I understand the nature of your disease and noted it after you disrobed.  There is no hair on your arms, loins or the nape of your neck.  The wig you use to hide this condition is as false and misleading as those vampire wannabes who patrol the dealers’ room downstairs.  I will not indulge this childish whim.  Remove your wig.”

            Since my birth I was diagnosed with Alopecia, a medical term given to a rare disorder which either caused hair loss or complete baldness.  I was born with it and nobody who knew me had an inkling of it, until now.

            “If you do not do as I say I will be forced to punish you,” Trevor grumbled with just a touch of an angry tone.

            Tears sprang into my eyes, hot and trembling they ran down my cheeks while I reached for my head.  With a sob I pulled off the long, black wig by its straight tresses.  Standing there with the hairy object in my right hand I waited for him to tell me what to do next.

            “Toss that offensive thing away,” he ordered.

            I flung the wig into the corner.

            He pressed his legs together and held out his hands to me.  I cocked my head at him, not knowing what he wanted.

            “Lay across my lap,” he said.

            An electric-like shock shot from the base of my spine and rushed into my skull.  I could feel my face blanch at his suggestion.

            “Do it now,” he stated more sternly.

            “Why?” I asked.

            “Because I said so and because you want to.”

            I knew what he was going to do.  Trevor’s constant inquiries about my mental make up, in particular how dominate my personality was could only mean one thing.  The muscles of my bottom jumped in an unconscious jerk.  My lips shook but I laid myself across his lap and closed my eyes.  I thought over and over this wasn’t happening, but it was.

            “Your rear is so delightfully plump, smooth and unmarred,” he husked out.  “It begs for my palm, surely you can feel it?  Since you took off your clothes I could sense the burning desire you possess for me to spank you.”

            “N-no,” I lied.

            But it was true.  I let him take control of the situation from the start.  Not only let this come to the act which was surely to happen, but I wanted it and gladly gave it to him.  Trevor owned me, perhaps for this moment only.  I shockingly came to the conclusion I was going to be punished, spanked and I was going to more than enjoy it.  The thrill of it made my sex convulse.

            “Prepare yourself, dear Jane,” he said in a throaty voice.

            My muscles tensed.

            The first surprising slap landed upon my right cheek and I could feel the instantaneous burn and shape of his palm.  My breath caught, my body shook and I fought back additional tears.  He warmed my bottom with easy strokes, alternating between cheeks until the pain burnt hot but my lust sang out for more.  Harder the strokes came.  The crown of my bottom stung and I could feel the heat spread out over those soft globes.  I gasped at a particularly hard slap and watched my humiliating tears drop from my chin to darken the carpet below.  My legs thrashed slowly and I dug the balls of my feet into the floor.  Despite the pain I held still.  My sex was slick, hot as it was smashed against his right leg.  I moaned out loud.

            Suddenly he stopped.

            “You have been punished enough,” he said, breathing heavily.  “Get up and go into the bathroom with me.”

            I climbed to my feet, swaying upon them until he gently gripped my upper arm and led me into the tiny cubicle.  When the light flicked on Trevor turned me gently around and bade me to look over my shoulder at the mirror.  I felt my eyes widen at the sight in the slivered glass.

            My arse was glowing a hot scarlet shade.  Almost all of the flesh of my bottom was scored red and suddenly I could feel the tightness of my skin as well as the burn.  While Trevor caressed my bald head and nibbled at the nape of my neck I stared with amazement at my searing rear.

            “I-I can’t believe this,” I choked out.

            “That you could take pleasure in pain or because you let me do it?” he countered.

            “Both I guess.”

            He turned me around to face myself in the mirror.  Trevor’s body caressed mine when he slid around behind me.  I could feel the tickling softness of his pubic hair, the smoothness of his skin and the coarseness of the palm of his right hand, the very one he had used to spank me.

            “Look at these delightful, heavy melons hanging so obviously ripe upon your chest,” he whispered.

            His hands took my breasts up, I shuddered from his touch.

            “You have never had a child.  Your nipples are still pink and tender, waiting to be kissed by my mouth, bitten by my teeth and plucked by my eager fingers,” Trevor commented.

            He began pinching my nipples and I gasped out loud in painful pleasure.

            “Should I pierce them?  Insert rings so I can attach a chain to lead you around the room with?” he suggested.

            “Yes,” I groaned lustfully.

            “Perhaps later…”

            I craned my head back and our lips met.  While I drank in the softness of his lips, the entwining of our tongues Trevor twisted my right breast and tweaked my now stinging nipple.  I whimpered with anticipation until his right hand coursed down my flat tummy to part the hot, wet folds of my sex.  Leaning into his caress I moaned with delight.

            “Let us adjourn to the bed,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss.

****

            Dawn was only an hour away and I watched the still form of Trevor lying upon the rumpled sheets of the rented bed.  Stretching out my length I sighed in contentment, it made my spanked bottom squeak with pain and my sore, aching nipples elongate.  The back of my upper thighs sang in sweet hurting stripes from Trevor’s cane.  My body was tired, smarting but sated.  I covered my mouth with a hand to stifle a ragged burp.  However I still hiccupped past my fingers and this made me laugh.

            Trevor had been amazing in bed.  His technique unmatched, his body deliciously firm and his stamina was something out of legend.  I looked at his sprawled form and stroked his cool flesh, pausing in a naughty manner at the limp, coiled thickness between his thighs.  His cock twitched at my touch and he awoke.  His daunting eyes sought out mine.

            “What have you done to me?” he asked in a fragile voice.

            “What you wanted,” I replied.

            “I’m so tired—I’ve never been this weary.”

            “Yes I know.”

            He had been right all along; I wanted so badly to be dominated like some sobbing submissive.  The realization he was so easily able to reduce me to a sexual slave seeking only to do his bidding and fulfill his desires made me smile.  Laying back down I curled my body against his and turned his head to the right.  The angry red holes with the dots of crushed dried blood made me feel a bit sad.  The puckered wounds leaked with water reddish fluid and vibrated with his dying heartbeat.  I watched, hypnotized by the fluttering of his jugular vein.  His breathing was shallow, ragged and dwindling.  He had only moments to live.  His rough treatment of my body and caused my other hunger to manifest and I had drunk too deeply of his life-fluid.  It had boiled over me, blotting out my common sense until I sank my teeth into his neck. 

I watched with sorrow as Trevor shuddered when I placed my left leg across his lower torso.  I twisted the fingers of my left hand into his intimate curls.  At that moment I came to the decision I couldn’t let him perish, I needed his domination of my body too much.  Clearing my thought I prepared to make the unholy offer, the same one my long-dead master made me back in 1857 in a bordello in Rome. 

The memory of the filthy, disgusting whorehouse in which I plied my body in trade for money so long ago came unbidden into my thoughts.  My orphaned existence on the streets of that Italian metropolis led me to become a prostitute at the age of twenty.  Men came and went, using me like some beast.  I donned whatever shade of wig they desired me in, answered to whatever name they made up and performed demeaning acts.  Afterwards I took their cash.  But Giovanni Di Marcos changed all that.  He sank his fangs into my throat and then offered me eternal life coupled with everlasting damnation.  I agreed.  From then on I stalked the streets of Rome, Venice, Paris and London.  A predator risen from the foul ranks of the whimper prey I had once been.  Becoming the captain of my fate and hating my former life.  Never did I imagine I would be so easily controlled to descend into such depravity again.  Yet I had wanted and came to love Trevor’s recent harsh treatment of my body—no in fact I couldn’t live without it.

            “Do you wish to die?” I mumbled past my scarlet smeared mouth.

            “No,” he croaked.

            “I can give you want you desire, just as you have done for me.  Is this truly what you want?”

            “Yes—please.”

            I rolled his head upward and pried open his pale lips.  Sinking my fangs into my wrist I swallowed quickly and then held my arm over his face dribbling thick blood into his mouth.  His tongue thrust out and smeared the crimson fluid over his lips, but managed to divert the flow which he took in greedy gulps.  His eyes opened.  I knew the rich iron taste now flooding into his fevered brain.  I withdrew my lacerated wrist.

            “That’s enough,” I instructed.

            “I never guessed you were really a vampire,” he mumbled.  “I felt your need to be disciplined but it masked your true nature.  I thought your hairless condition to be your final secret.”

            “Sorry to disappoint you.”

            “As a top, a dom that is, I trained myself to observe and deduce things about the bottoms, the submissives I encountered.  I have always been in control.”

            “Then this should be interesting.”

            “Why?”

            “Because after you change I will be your mistress and you will be bound to me until I am destroyed.  It’s ironic you dominated my body but I will now possess you utterly.”
            “I will not submit.”

            “Yes you will, you have no choice—but not in bed, not when we make love.  When we have sex it is I who will submit, even debase myself.  I will permit you to indulge your tender and clever ministrations upon my eternal flesh.  Think of it Trevor, you can hurt me but never enough to kill me.  Whips, paddles, canes or anything you’ve longed to use on a woman’s flesh can be employed upon my willing flesh.  I offer you an extended lifetime of domination over my body.”

            “But in other matters?”

            “You will serve me instead.  But I am a fair mistress—I will never risk your destruction for personal or profitable gain.  I belong to you forever.  My damned soul is yours as much as yours is mine.”

            “Sounds like a fair trade then.”

            “Quiet my love,” I growled seductively.  “Sleep and die—after the coming edge of night we will feast upon the fools below and come back to this room where you can spank, pinch, bite and torment me.”

            “I look forward to it,” he croaked.

            “I hunger for the sting of your cane.”

            He didn’t respond.

            I watched his chest heave in shuddering spasms and then he expired peacefully.  Getting up reluctantly I padded gingerly on welted soles over to the door and opened it.  I hung out the Do Not Disturb sign so we wouldn’t be discovered by the maid.   I shut and locked it, wondering how I was going to fit into high heels with my feet so tenderized.  I hadn’t brought additional clothing and my dwelling was on the other side of Cincinnati.  Outside the heavily curtained window the sun began to rise and my body started to stiffen up.  In jerking, weary steps I crossed back over to the bed and collapsed atop Trevor’s cold corpse.  The dawn stole away my ability to move, but I managed a smile before becoming as dead and unmoving as my new lover. 

We slept.

 

One response to “Unconventional Assumptions

  1. Christopher, this was freakin’ AWESOME! I was so pulled into this with all the vivid imagery! I’ve been to horror cons too, so your own descriptions made me chuckle. And what a twist at the end! Wow! I LOVED this story! (^_^)

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