As the sensations finally ebb the mistress rises, walking around her thrall appraisingly. She notes the glimmer of sweat evenly coating her eternally young body, the slight tremble as she strains to hold her arms exactly where her mistress left them, and the undisguised hunger in her deep brown eyes. Smirking mischievously, the vampyre places one finger under the girl’s chin, using the slightest pressure to direct her smoothly to her feet, the girl’s shapely body belying considerable muscle control, particularly for a mortal. “Oh my yes…we are going to have a lot of fun together.”
The vampyre turns smoothly, casually dragging her slave along on her fingertip, invisible lashes keeping her from breaking the contact for even a minute. The ghoul whimpers piteously, more as a reaction than from any hope of pity from her vicious mistress as she guides her thrall to a stone bench overlooking the road. “Lie down, thrall.”
Zoe quickly obeys the command, stretching out to her full length on the cold, rough stone, her body still trembling slightly with the aftershocks.
“Watch me,” the mistress commands as she crawls up over her thrall, kissing her passionately. Zoe moans into the vampyre’s mouth eagerly, reaching to caress her mistress and getting cruelly lashed for the effort as the vampyre just smiles into the kiss. Too soon she breaks the kiss, letting the ghoul moan softly into the cool night air as her moonlit lover crawls slowly down her body, kissing slowly and inexorably over her throat, down her cleavage as she massages Zoe’s exposed breasts, down her fluttering stomach, across her taut navel, slowing as she kisses around her shaved pussy…savoring the girl’s aching anticipation as her fangs brush her labia…letting her wonder whether it will be tooth or tongue that brings her pleasure for a long moment before gently, tenderly touching the tip of her tongue to the girl’s trembling clit.
Zoe arches nearly off the bench with the immediate, earthshattering climax, ignoring the lashes of pain even as they force her back onto the bench, thrashing against her mistress’ invisible bonds. She howls incoherently with pleasure as each touch of her mistress’ tongue sends searing bolts of ecstasy through her helpless form, climaxes building quickly and releasing, running rampant through her half-dead body as she is pushed well beyond human endurance.
When at last she can take no more, each climax bringing more agony than ecstasy, her mistress rises and circles her once more, stopping over her head and bending low over her, gazing deep into her eyes.
“Now, I have some tasks for you…”
Zoe sobs, body trembling from the lashes of disobedience. “Mistress, please-”
“And finally, you will have no memory of any of these tasks until the time comes to perform them.”
Her expression goes blank, blood red tears falling unnoticed down her smooth cheeks. “Yes Mistress.”
The vampyre kisses the confused ghoul’s tears away. “Good thrall. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Leave me to what, Mistress?”
“You’ll see,” she laughs mischievously Zoe tries to follow her passage, but finds she cannot move her head – in fact, she cannot move a muscle.
~Stay here until sunrise. You are not to move a muscle unless someone discovers you. If they do, you are to offer yourself to them and do everything in your power to please them,~ her mistress’ voice sounds in her head.
Zoe whimpers to herself, unable to disobey as her body simply refuses to heed her, completely paralyzed from the eyes down. She strains her ears, alert for any noise of a coming threat, mind racing as she tries to find some way out of her predicament; if she pretends to be a statue, perhaps they won’t discover her? She fights down the panic as she starts at every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig, preternatural hearing allowing her to hear for miles. She lies still and afraid for hours, eagerly watching the false dawn as a few semi trucks rattle down the side road, going from who knows where headed for who knows where, each time petrified some sweaty overweight trucker will look up, see her, pull over, stagger up to her, rub his greasy hands all over her bare and helpless body…
She bites back a scream as she hears a rustling in the bushes just a few hundred yards away, indistinct voices giggling merrily at each other. She hears the tinkling of chain, the creak of leather, the rush of velvet across grass, but still cannot see anything as she lies exposed in the moonlight, only knowing that whoever it is, they’re coming closer.
“-my god Becky, did you see how that one guy was looking at us? Like, hello, we’re not doing this to give you a hard-on…”
“ohmygod, right? Or that one guy who tried to buy you? Or the one who was trying to tell you how to treat a girl on a leash,” said the girl who must be Becky.
“Totally,” said the first girl, “the fucking prudes in this town. I can’t believe they gave you shit about your fake ID, it’s not like one more year matters anyway.”
“Not when you are as timeless as we,” Becky recites as though quoting poetry. “For we, the chi-”
“What’s wrong?”
“Cindy, Shh!” she whispers, and there’s a crunching noise and tinkling of chain as she pulls her companion behind a bush. “There’s someone on that bench!”
“The one on top of the hill where we made out that first time? You know I don’t have my glasses, it isn’t period.”
“I’m telling you, there’s someone there! …ohmygod, she’s not moving, do you think she’s…?”
“Dead?!” squeals Cindy, leash tinkling madly until it’s stopped by a yank and clang of links tightening.
“Shh! Gimme your cellphone.”
“I don’t have it, it isn’t period!”
“My god…fine. You wait here, I’ll go check it out.”
“Alone?!” she squeals again, and there’s a slap of flesh on flesh, followed by a crash.
“Jesus fucking Christ Cindy, shut up! Do you want to be gagged? Do you? …damn straight. You’re no use to me with your tongue locked away, but stop flapping it or you’re gonna get us caught.”
There’s a sound of approaching footsteps as the changing wind brings a whiff of the unmistakable scent of a girl’s love juices, the amateur dominatrix practically dripping with desire as she approaches the pale, bloodstained form. Slowly, cautiously she draws into view, her auburn hair cut into perfect Hollywood bangs, her pale blue contacts setting off the excessive black eye makeup, smooth pale skin, dangly ankh earrings, blood red lips almost concealing the little plastic fangs, a black choker around a slender throat, bare shoulders, her slender breasts unnecessarily bound by a trendy but unnecessary corset. She looks down over her find quizzically, appearing almost catlike as she runs her fingers through Zoe’s silky hair, along her smooth cheek, not comprehending how so lovely a creature could be so still. Finally she swallows her sense of silliness and asks the obvious question: “Whatever you are, can you talk?”
“Yes Mistress”, Zoe finds herself replying almost before the question is asked.
The amateur dominatrix falls back in a clatter of silver D-rings and zippers, escaping Zoe’s limited field of vision momentarily as she composes herself before returning.