Ghoul fiction, part 3
(Yet another ghoul post. I have felt like writing a few of these based on the amazing RP going into this. That, and something had to mark the game with the blindfold. Yes, I wore one as a prop and half the game didn’t know how to respond! Comments are welcome, as I'm wondering about how I'm writting this.)
“You will wear this tonight.” His voice was firm as he held out the strip of black cloth. She turned her back to him, letting him tie the sash around her eyes, letting him claim her sight this evening. She had dressed both to please him, and to show his ownership of her in small ways that those who know the Danse would see. The suit was dark gray, the skirt just above her knees. The corset was worn to please him, as was the soft leather boots that reached her knees and the Victorian necklace that hid away her neck. She thought that she had pleased him, with the surprise of the armored car and driver, though he gave no outward sign.
He was silent for the rest of the drive, content to give her the instructions only once. When the car stopped, it was his hands that guided her out of the car and into the house. She gave herself over to him, left him lead her to the spot where the slightest pressure on her shoulder guided her down to sit at his feet.
It did not take her long to determine she was in a corner, the wall at her back, the lack of sounds to the right, her master sitting between her and the rest of the world. His denial of her sight left her grasping to hear the conversations, to tell who was saying what and be able to provide him with the report he asked of her. She could hear the verbal dancing of the few that asked why she was blindfolded and his careless replay that she had proven herself unable to control herself, therefore she would not be allowed to see. Her blood ran cold at the careless talk about removing her eyes for punishment.
As the hours passed, she became more comfortable without her sight. The steps of each voice sounded different, each clothing rustled in a different way. Conversation became sharper as she had to rely on only a single sense. Her master never left her side, even when the Prince called something that should not be. He merely ordered her to stillness, one of the very few commands that came into her mind all evening. In the corner, she was just his ears and mind, just another part of his will.
The evening drew to a close and it was by his touch that she was guided out the door and into the car. There was nothing but silence for a time as the car glided through the night. When the car stopped, his hands were in her hair as he untied the blindfold. The house was a short walk away, a different way each time to keep the place safe.
In the sitting room he paused before his chair, in a way he never had in that room. It was clear that he was wanting something from her, and she turned her eyes to his posture, trying to divine his will. It was the way he stood that gave her the clue, the same way he stood each night as he bid her to undress him for sleep. Though it was not the same place, she took a breath and gambled, reaching to guide his shirt over his head.
A raised eyebrow stopped her in her tracks for a moment, awaiting a rebuke for presumption. But he said nothing, and she continued after that moment. It was hard to be graceful while removing another’s shoes but she tried, kneeling at his feet to undo the laces and remove each covering. The pants where the easiest, just a button and a zipper before guiding the heavy fabric down his legs.
He paused for a moment, head tilted and eyes weighing her before he sat in his chair. She moved to the pillow she always knelt upon, hands clasped in front of her and eyes downcast. "You did not have to ask what I wanted. Were you guessing or hoping?"
She relaxed at those words, a confirmation that she had guessed his will correctly. "Your Posture, Master. It was the same as when you are ready for bed. It was both a guess, and a hope that I was reading you correctly. I hope.. “, she hesitated a moment before continuing. “I hope I do not make many mistakes in learning to know what you wish from me."
A careless nod was the only response, and a subject change. He ordered to her tell him about the evening, and listened as she recited back all the alliances, the shifting changes in the court, and how people’s voices betrayed what they wanted. When she finished, he stroked her hair again, asking "And what of your own performance? How do you think you did?"
Her eyes closed at this as she ran over each thing she did or did not do, each movement she made, each touch of his hand upon her. "I was not as still as I should have been, Master. I angled my head to much to listen, and it would have been noticed by an observer."
"Yes, and you were. I would not worry over much about it though. They all expected you to be listening. Did having the blindfold on teach you anything?"
"Yes Master, it did. It was.. easier to listen to far away conversations, though the lack of seeing posture was a hindrance. It became.. easier to hear tones, to tell how someone moved by their clothing. Such as the man with he book turning the pages, or Mr. Bennett's overly noticeable attempts at breathing." She hesitated a moment, unsure if she should speak or not. But he punished her worse if she held back any thought. "And it was a powerful tool, to use publicly. Both as a punishment, and as a demonstration of complete control."
“Excellent.” The tone of his voice changed, a single sharp command issuing from his throat: “Stand”. She obeyed in an instant, rising to stand before him with her hands still clasped in front of her, eyes still lowed. “Strip… but leave on the corset.” She flushed hard at the command, but slid her jacket from her shoulders, folding it to lay at her feet. As she unbuttoned her skirt, his voice continued. "Did anyone touch you at the gathering?"
Without pause in sliding each piece away she answered him. “No Master, no one even tried to.” Stockings and collar joined the pile at her feet before she slid off the last undergarment, leaving her clad in only the black silk corset.
He shook his head. "You are mistaken, I touched you. I did not pet you but I touched you"
Her mind turned to ice at her mistake, worrying over the fact that she had assumed he meant other kindred. Her skin heated in embarrassment as she replied. "Yes Master. I am sorry for misunderstanding the question."
“You took my touch for granted. You did not assume that I was including myself. You will learn that my touch is not to be taken for granted and you will learn not to assume only deduce." The glance she had of his eyes saw his pupils constrict to mere pinpricks. Then his hands were upon her and she could think of nothing else but him.
His fingers were soft but insistent as he traced over every inch of skin that was now visible, inspecting, turning her as he wished.. He was looking for something, what she did not know, nor did she care, as long as he was there. Her breath caught for the first time as he traced his fingers along the swell of her breasts above the corset. When his hands were at her thighs she almost lost that self control again. It took will to keep herself still, to keep herself from reacting in a way that might displease a lord of the night.
When he was done she faced him again, eyes still lowed. "Good, there does not appear to be any other touch upon your skin other than my own." His fingers came under her chin and he guided her forward by touch onto his lap, facing him. He shifted and leaned back just a bit and her knees slipped to each side, straddling his form. Her mind whirled at the shock of the touch, of the commands, at the feeling of his bare skin against her own.
"I told you that if you ever truly give me a moment to be proud of you, you would receive a gift. Tonight, I was very proud of you.” He cut a line on his throat, tilting his head to offer the blood to her.
A shaky “Thank you Master” was all she could manage before leaning forward to drink the offered blood from his neck. It was ambrosia, the blood, the way he bid her drink, the bare flesh against her legs. She could not keep herself from drinking, but she managed to keep the same distance between them that he has set. At least she kept control until he traced his fangs along the curve of her neck and down to the edge of the corset.
Then, when she had half melted from desire, he slipped his fangs into her neck, provoking a gasp from her throat even as she licked at the blood along his neck. Her hand went against his chest to stead herself as she lost her mind to her body’s sensations, giving up any pretense of not totally desiring what was happening.
It was only a minuet before he pulled away with difficultly, the wound on his neck healing over even as he licked the wound on his. While she was still realigns in the shock and the desire he kissed her, the lightest brush of lips against hers causing her to melt against him for that instant. Then his touch slid her back to the floor and she tried to collapse into a graceful kneeling pose.
At his feet, she trembled, her body reacting to the rush of desire she was feeling, the wanting for something just out of reach. His gaze was steady upon her, and she could tell that he was fighting for control, even as she was. Eventually, he took in an unneeded deep breath and reached to stroke her cheek as she melted into the touch. "Do we have an understanding now? Good behavior is rewarded."
“Yes Master.” Her body, her mind yearned toward him, more than just the power of the blood competing this reaction.
"Good girl. Prepare for bed, you will be sleeping with me tonight."
A shaky “Yes Master” was her only response as she rose and backed away, taking the discarded clothing with her. She took it all to the laundry, before retiring to the bathroom. As she cleaned herself for the night, her hands started to drift lower on her stomach. The desire for release, for a moment of pleasure was so strong that she had to bit her lip to stop herself. Her master had not given her permission to feel that way, and her training had driven home to her that she was just his object. For the rest of the preparations, her gaze was locked away from herself.
He petted her only a moment when she returned before retiring to the bedroom. There, she turned down the sheets and he took his normal place within the bed. She lid in next to him, head on his shoulders, her warm flesh against his cold dead body, yearning towards him in ways she did not want to understand. There was no more conversation, just his arm moving around her before he passed into the sleep of the day.
Sleep was long in coming, as gave up the fight against her own mind, her own desires, tracking down the path into fantasy. It had been nearly eight months since Baron Salt had given her a night off to indulge at she wished, eight months without another’s touch upon her. And though she was not the one in control, those this was her Master, she craved the feeling of his hands upon her like nothing but the blood. But this was all she knew she could have, these moments when he rewarded her, when he wished something warm against him at night. There was nothing to do but stay still, and wait for sleep to come.
“You will wear this tonight.” His voice was firm as he held out the strip of black cloth. She turned her back to him, letting him tie the sash around her eyes, letting him claim her sight this evening. She had dressed both to please him, and to show his ownership of her in small ways that those who know the Danse would see. The suit was dark gray, the skirt just above her knees. The corset was worn to please him, as was the soft leather boots that reached her knees and the Victorian necklace that hid away her neck. She thought that she had pleased him, with the surprise of the armored car and driver, though he gave no outward sign.
He was silent for the rest of the drive, content to give her the instructions only once. When the car stopped, it was his hands that guided her out of the car and into the house. She gave herself over to him, left him lead her to the spot where the slightest pressure on her shoulder guided her down to sit at his feet.
It did not take her long to determine she was in a corner, the wall at her back, the lack of sounds to the right, her master sitting between her and the rest of the world. His denial of her sight left her grasping to hear the conversations, to tell who was saying what and be able to provide him with the report he asked of her. She could hear the verbal dancing of the few that asked why she was blindfolded and his careless replay that she had proven herself unable to control herself, therefore she would not be allowed to see. Her blood ran cold at the careless talk about removing her eyes for punishment.
As the hours passed, she became more comfortable without her sight. The steps of each voice sounded different, each clothing rustled in a different way. Conversation became sharper as she had to rely on only a single sense. Her master never left her side, even when the Prince called something that should not be. He merely ordered her to stillness, one of the very few commands that came into her mind all evening. In the corner, she was just his ears and mind, just another part of his will.
The evening drew to a close and it was by his touch that she was guided out the door and into the car. There was nothing but silence for a time as the car glided through the night. When the car stopped, his hands were in her hair as he untied the blindfold. The house was a short walk away, a different way each time to keep the place safe.
In the sitting room he paused before his chair, in a way he never had in that room. It was clear that he was wanting something from her, and she turned her eyes to his posture, trying to divine his will. It was the way he stood that gave her the clue, the same way he stood each night as he bid her to undress him for sleep. Though it was not the same place, she took a breath and gambled, reaching to guide his shirt over his head.
A raised eyebrow stopped her in her tracks for a moment, awaiting a rebuke for presumption. But he said nothing, and she continued after that moment. It was hard to be graceful while removing another’s shoes but she tried, kneeling at his feet to undo the laces and remove each covering. The pants where the easiest, just a button and a zipper before guiding the heavy fabric down his legs.
He paused for a moment, head tilted and eyes weighing her before he sat in his chair. She moved to the pillow she always knelt upon, hands clasped in front of her and eyes downcast. "You did not have to ask what I wanted. Were you guessing or hoping?"
She relaxed at those words, a confirmation that she had guessed his will correctly. "Your Posture, Master. It was the same as when you are ready for bed. It was both a guess, and a hope that I was reading you correctly. I hope.. “, she hesitated a moment before continuing. “I hope I do not make many mistakes in learning to know what you wish from me."
A careless nod was the only response, and a subject change. He ordered to her tell him about the evening, and listened as she recited back all the alliances, the shifting changes in the court, and how people’s voices betrayed what they wanted. When she finished, he stroked her hair again, asking "And what of your own performance? How do you think you did?"
Her eyes closed at this as she ran over each thing she did or did not do, each movement she made, each touch of his hand upon her. "I was not as still as I should have been, Master. I angled my head to much to listen, and it would have been noticed by an observer."
"Yes, and you were. I would not worry over much about it though. They all expected you to be listening. Did having the blindfold on teach you anything?"
"Yes Master, it did. It was.. easier to listen to far away conversations, though the lack of seeing posture was a hindrance. It became.. easier to hear tones, to tell how someone moved by their clothing. Such as the man with he book turning the pages, or Mr. Bennett's overly noticeable attempts at breathing." She hesitated a moment, unsure if she should speak or not. But he punished her worse if she held back any thought. "And it was a powerful tool, to use publicly. Both as a punishment, and as a demonstration of complete control."
“Excellent.” The tone of his voice changed, a single sharp command issuing from his throat: “Stand”. She obeyed in an instant, rising to stand before him with her hands still clasped in front of her, eyes still lowed. “Strip… but leave on the corset.” She flushed hard at the command, but slid her jacket from her shoulders, folding it to lay at her feet. As she unbuttoned her skirt, his voice continued. "Did anyone touch you at the gathering?"
Without pause in sliding each piece away she answered him. “No Master, no one even tried to.” Stockings and collar joined the pile at her feet before she slid off the last undergarment, leaving her clad in only the black silk corset.
He shook his head. "You are mistaken, I touched you. I did not pet you but I touched you"
Her mind turned to ice at her mistake, worrying over the fact that she had assumed he meant other kindred. Her skin heated in embarrassment as she replied. "Yes Master. I am sorry for misunderstanding the question."
“You took my touch for granted. You did not assume that I was including myself. You will learn that my touch is not to be taken for granted and you will learn not to assume only deduce." The glance she had of his eyes saw his pupils constrict to mere pinpricks. Then his hands were upon her and she could think of nothing else but him.
His fingers were soft but insistent as he traced over every inch of skin that was now visible, inspecting, turning her as he wished.. He was looking for something, what she did not know, nor did she care, as long as he was there. Her breath caught for the first time as he traced his fingers along the swell of her breasts above the corset. When his hands were at her thighs she almost lost that self control again. It took will to keep herself still, to keep herself from reacting in a way that might displease a lord of the night.
When he was done she faced him again, eyes still lowed. "Good, there does not appear to be any other touch upon your skin other than my own." His fingers came under her chin and he guided her forward by touch onto his lap, facing him. He shifted and leaned back just a bit and her knees slipped to each side, straddling his form. Her mind whirled at the shock of the touch, of the commands, at the feeling of his bare skin against her own.
"I told you that if you ever truly give me a moment to be proud of you, you would receive a gift. Tonight, I was very proud of you.” He cut a line on his throat, tilting his head to offer the blood to her.
A shaky “Thank you Master” was all she could manage before leaning forward to drink the offered blood from his neck. It was ambrosia, the blood, the way he bid her drink, the bare flesh against her legs. She could not keep herself from drinking, but she managed to keep the same distance between them that he has set. At least she kept control until he traced his fangs along the curve of her neck and down to the edge of the corset.
Then, when she had half melted from desire, he slipped his fangs into her neck, provoking a gasp from her throat even as she licked at the blood along his neck. Her hand went against his chest to stead herself as she lost her mind to her body’s sensations, giving up any pretense of not totally desiring what was happening.
It was only a minuet before he pulled away with difficultly, the wound on his neck healing over even as he licked the wound on his. While she was still realigns in the shock and the desire he kissed her, the lightest brush of lips against hers causing her to melt against him for that instant. Then his touch slid her back to the floor and she tried to collapse into a graceful kneeling pose.
At his feet, she trembled, her body reacting to the rush of desire she was feeling, the wanting for something just out of reach. His gaze was steady upon her, and she could tell that he was fighting for control, even as she was. Eventually, he took in an unneeded deep breath and reached to stroke her cheek as she melted into the touch. "Do we have an understanding now? Good behavior is rewarded."
“Yes Master.” Her body, her mind yearned toward him, more than just the power of the blood competing this reaction.
"Good girl. Prepare for bed, you will be sleeping with me tonight."
A shaky “Yes Master” was her only response as she rose and backed away, taking the discarded clothing with her. She took it all to the laundry, before retiring to the bathroom. As she cleaned herself for the night, her hands started to drift lower on her stomach. The desire for release, for a moment of pleasure was so strong that she had to bit her lip to stop herself. Her master had not given her permission to feel that way, and her training had driven home to her that she was just his object. For the rest of the preparations, her gaze was locked away from herself.
He petted her only a moment when she returned before retiring to the bedroom. There, she turned down the sheets and he took his normal place within the bed. She lid in next to him, head on his shoulders, her warm flesh against his cold dead body, yearning towards him in ways she did not want to understand. There was no more conversation, just his arm moving around her before he passed into the sleep of the day.
Sleep was long in coming, as gave up the fight against her own mind, her own desires, tracking down the path into fantasy. It had been nearly eight months since Baron Salt had given her a night off to indulge at she wished, eight months without another’s touch upon her. And though she was not the one in control, those this was her Master, she craved the feeling of his hands upon her like nothing but the blood. But this was all she knew she could have, these moments when he rewarded her, when he wished something warm against him at night. There was nothing to do but stay still, and wait for sleep to come.