March 2019 Patreon Exclusive

Hey all,

This is this months Patreon exclusive story! For the time being, I have no plans to release these stories elsewhere, and if I did it would be like. A year later, or something, in a nice pdf collection. The most efficient way off the top of my head is to release these for now is directly on Patreon under the 'Monthly Story' tag, so you can find 'em pretty easily.

Anyway, enough stream of consciousness chatter, hope you enjoy, and I look forward to seeing suggestions for next months story soon!

Winning prompt:  Subby, needy vampire begging their human dom for their blood and growing more desperate as they are teased about how reliant they are on it 

Suggested by:  Tenebyss (Thank you, this was a really fun one!)

- 2537 words

CW:

• Vampire
• Blood/injury
• Light pain play
• D/s
• Light degradation teasing
• Desperation
• Soft ending 

~~~

You can smell it. The blood pumping under her skin. The minuscule beating of her heart. The phantom feeling of her flesh in your mouth, of her life essence dripping down your lips. You're growling, ever so slightly. Fangs ready. She won't even know what hit her. Body tensing, and-

"Down girl."

You freeze, every muscle in your body locking in place. Your training is coming along nicely.

She slides a finger along the back of your collar, just enough pressure to drag your attention completely away from the girl walking by.

"But Miss, I'm hungryyyy..."

She puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly, warm fingers against your cold skin. Leans close to your ear, her living breath lightly tickling.

“Dear. You drink, when and if I allow you to. You do not give in to your base desires without my blessing.”

Her wrist shifts, and her bracelet brushes you. Blessed silver. You can already hear the sizzle. Words catch in your throat and turn to nervous noises.

“You and I both know you are stronger than that.”

The silver drags ever so lightly under your shirt, towards the center of your back, a line of fire that makes you squirm ever so slightly in place. You dare not move away.

“Show me how strong you can be, pet.”

She presses the bracelet harder against you, coaxing a sound half whimper half moan from your lips. She knows exactly how hard to press, when to pull back, to leave pleasurable pulses of pain in her wake. She takes her hand from under your shirt, and holds your shoulder again.

“What do you say?”

You shiver, and swallow, looking down at the ground.

“Y-yes Miss. I will drink, only from you, and only when you allow me to.”

“That’s right, my dear. Don’t forget that. I think another five days or so will set you right.”

You nod idly, already back to thinking about the hunger clawing at your insides. But, soon enough.

“F-five days!!”

You spin, fists balled and by your side, pouting as you look up at her.

“It’s already been three since I last drank. That’s too long, you can’t be that mean.”

One finger loops through the ring of your collar. Tugging you forward and up, ever so slightly. Blue eyes, contrasting your dark red. Tone as sharp as steel.

“Oh no. I will be whatever I want to be. And more importantly, you will be whatever I want you to be. And what I want you to be, is strong, for as long as you can. And then, when you cannot bring yourself to be strong anymore, I want you to beg. You will prove to me that you can rise above the Want, and then I will allow you to debase yourself at my feet, wallowing in all-consuming Need. And when I am satisfied, I will grant you the singular privilege of drinking from me.”

Shaking quietly, mouth slightly open, you can’t look away from her eyes.

“Am I clear?”

You nod slowly.

“Use your words.”

You stumble over your tongue for a moment before managing to choke out the words.

“Ah, yes Miss! I’m sorry, I understand, I will be the very best I can be, for you. Five days is nothing, I can handle it.” 

Her cold eye drill into you for another moment. But her expression soon softens.

“Make me proud, dear.”

She releases your collar, and continues walking. You hold a moment, fingers touching the steel ring, warmed by her touch. You do not tarry long, rushing after her, to follow a few steps behind. The hunger is still there, but the mix of fear and adoration she inspires in you keeps it at bay.

For now.

~~~

The first day is easy. Well. ‘Easy’. She sends you to grab her groceries, alone. The store isn’t crowded, though there are plenty of delicious looking people lingering alone, tucked away in aisles here and there. It’s a little tempting to pull someone in, to look them in the eyes and clear their head, lean over, and just. Take. A little bit.

But she would know. She always does, somehow. The thought of her punishing you keeps you in line. The place reeks of vegetables anyway, and it puts you off your appetite. 

When you return home, weighted down by a bunch of nonsense human food, she smirks at you.

“Didn’t get into any trouble, I hope?”

“I never cause trouble, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course, you’re the most well behaved pet a weak little human like me could ask for.”

You bare your fangs and snarl, but the way she matches your gaze, without the slightest hint of fear. People used to be afraid of you. But she never was.

You look down. Murmur a quick, “Sorry, Miss, I know my place.”

~~~

The second day is harder to get through. She leaves you to your own devices, heading off without saying when she’ll be back. With no simple tasks or even her presence to keep you busy, you have a lot of time to fixate on exactly how loud the hunger has gotten. Pacing around the house, boiling inside. You run your tongue along your fangs, putting pressure on them, trying to alleviate the urgent, ever-building need to drive them into human flesh.

Oh, you can practically taste it, feel the warmth. It’s like nothing else. Before long, you find yourself sitting. Trying to control your breathing, but it just turns to panting, and then wordless whimpering. You have to, you have to bite, something. Your eyes dart-

She comes home to find feathers scattered across the living room. You’ve torn up three pillows from the couch in your frenzy. She is not pleased.

Hands bound, shirt off, back exposed, you kneel as she stands over you.

“What kind of pet rips up the furniture just because she’s a little hungry?”

“The feral kind,” you growl.

She drags the silver point of her ring down your back, leaving a trail of fiery pain, and turning your snarl back into needy sounds, the tenseness of your body into writhing under her touch.

“Feral? Don’t kid yourself. You’re domesticated, you’re just being a brat.”

“N-noooo I’m noooot…”

“Your weakness betrays you. It’s cute, when you just fall apart so completely, so easily.”

~~~

The third day. It seems at first that you might be through the worst of it, until.

“Oh, clumsy me~”

You are sitting on a footstool in the kitchen when it happens. She sets down the knife, and the scent of blood in the air hits you like a tidal wave. Your mouth is watering, and your fangs hurt. It’s been so long, too long. You don’t even care that you’re moaning with want, your eyes tracing the trajectory of the droplets as they drip drip drip on the kitchen floor. 

She wraps her finger in a dish towel. “Dear, would you clean that up for me?”

Your eyes dart up to her, and you’re on your knees, crawling closer, drooling ever so slightly, fangs aching. At her feet, you can smell the overwhelming scent of fresh blood, erasing everything but need, you don’t even care that you’re about to lap her blood off the floor like an animal, it’s her blood and every drop should be cherished-

“Oh, no you don’t.”

She steps hard between your shoulder blades, pushing you down, your face against the floor, six inches away from the little puddle of blood. A gasp escapes you. So. Close.

“I didn’t say lick the floor clean. I said clean it up.”

She drops the dish towel over your face. Droplets of her blood are already soaking into it, and you take a deep breath, drawing in the scent of it, so overcome by the need that you feel tears running down your cheek. It’s so hard not to just go for the spill, but something stops you. Something in the back of your mind.

“Hm. Do you even know how pathetic you look? This mighty creature of dark and despair, reduced to tears under my heel because I won’t allow you to lick my blood off the floor? Do you need it that badly? Are you really that weak?”

She takes her foot off your back, and after a moment of heavy breathing, you clutch at her legs.

And beg.

“Yes! Yes Miss, I am that weak, I am overcome by the dark in my heart, by desire, by the hunger that tears me apart from the inside. I need it, I need it, please, I’m begging you, I’ll do anything, please please please!”

Arms crossed, with a stern look and a stern tone.

“I though five days was nothing. I thought you said you were going to be strong for me. I thought you said you could handle it. Aren’t vampire’s supposed to be the superior species? Are you brought so low, so easily?”

All pretenses of holding back how desperate she’s made you has melted away. Whatever tough act you had managed to scrape together, it’s gone now.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m weak, I’m so pathetic, you’re right. I’m just a desperate, whining creature with no need for anything like pride. Please, I’ll do whatever you say. Punish me however you see fit for my failure, burn me, press me with silver, douse me in blessed water, use me however you like. Please, just. I need it. I need it.”

She waits patiently as you finish your little outburst, writhing on the floor.

“I see.”

With fast, confident movement, she takes the leash from her back pocket, and hooks it to your collar.

“Should have known. You’re not even human, how much could I possibly expect from you.”

You try to stand, but she tugs the leash, throwing you off balance.

“No, you keep to your hands and knees like the inhuman thing you are. If I’m going to show you mercy, the least you could do is stay in your place.”

She tugs the leash again, harder. You crawl after her, head down, whimpering, face still wet with tears. If you had any blood in your body, your face would be red and hot with embarrassment. But the shame is overshadowed by your hunger, and the need to sate it. She said she would take mercy on you, you need to behave.

~~~

In the bedroom, she sits on the bed as you settle on your knees in front of her. Your face lowered, as she bends forward, and waves her still bleeding fingers under your nose. Your mouth trembling, slightly open. So close now, but you can’t do anything more until she gives permission.

“You’re that desperate? Go ahead, suck on them.”

You press your quivering lips against her bloody fingers, lapping at them delicately, before taking them into your mouth. The taste is exquisite, indescribable. Warm, and comfortable, and soothing, and arousing. You suckle, gently at first, but the slow trickle is not enough. Carefully, you nip at the wound with a fang, reopening it, releasing a fresh flow of warmth.

And oh, it’s so warm.

You feel heat pour down your throat. Echoing through you. Hot, delicious, fulfilling. You suck harder, holding her wrist in both hands, instinctively squeezing along them, anything to encourage the flow of blood. Careful not to brush her silver bracelet. Your face flushes. Your eyes are bleary, heavily lidded, as you let your greedy noises fill the room. Everything fades away, and the only thought left in your head, is to sate yourself.

She runs her other hand through your hair affectionately. A soft touch, to which you pause for just a moment to let out a deep sigh of relief. Then, back to sucking.

“You didn’t last as long as I had hoped, but you are making good progress. You didn’t even try to attack me this time.”

You pull yourself off her fingers for a moment, breathing heavily, swallowing and licking your lips before speaking.

“I- um. No point, last time I tried that, I ended up on the ground with a stake poised above my heart.”

“Mm, I think it’s a bit more than that. Tell me, did the thought even cross your mind?”

Now that there’s some blood in your system, you can feel yourself blush.

“Well, I mean, um. No, Miss, I didn’t even think of it.”

“Good girl. I’m proud of you.”

She runs her finger along your lips, smearing them with blood. You swallow and part your lips.

“You vampires and your oral fixations.”

“Hey! It’s, that’s not…”

She pushes her fingers back into your mouth, slowly thrusting them in and out a few times, teasing them along your tongue. You feel a flash of indigence, but you aren’t really in any shape to protest, so you just. Close your eyes, and lick her fingertips. You can hear her quietly making her own approving noises. Intoxicants in your saliva make it feel as good for her as it does for you. She just has more self control.

Yet still she hikes up her skirt. 

“I’ll allow you a little more.”

She’s panting and shivering a little as she says it. Need has some grip on her too.

But you are consumed by it. Overcome. You grab hungrily at her stockings, ripping them open without ceremony. Kissing up the side of her leg, the hot soft flesh of her inner thigh against your aching lips. Dragging your fangs along as instinct finds the spot. Her legs move, one wrapping around you and pulling you closer, the other stepping on your shoulder, arching to give you a better angle. Driven to mindless bloodlust, barely aware of anything anymore. And you bite.

Break the skin. A fresh flood. Not like her fingers, that was never more than a trickle. You’re intoxicated, blood-drunk, grunting and moaning and licking and biting and sucking on her thigh as she pants and clenches the bedsheets in her fists, and throws her head back. She doesn’t let more than a long, pleasured sigh out of her lips. Most humans would be reduced to a squealing, thrashing mess by this, but she’s not most humans.

Even as she enjoys herself, even as you lose yourself, there is nothing in you that doubts that she is in control. She’s still holding the leash, literally and otherwise.

She is allowing you to lose yourself, until she says.

“Okay pet, that’s enough.”

You make a tiny disappointed noise, and with incredible effort, pull yourself off of her thigh. The wounds begin to close slowly, as soon as you pull away.

“Yes Miss…”

She tugs your leash, coaxing you to lay your head in her lap. You don’t need much encouragement.

“Did I do good enough? Being patient?”

“Of course you did. I’m only mean to you about it because you like when I’m hard on you.”

You nod vigorously as she pets your hair gently. You feel at peace, more than you have in. Well. What was it, six days, a week?

“Did you have enough?”

“Yes Miss. I’m sated. Thank you.”