Deepest Shadows Pt2/?
I was curled in the corner of the Master's bedroom when the next days' sun was set, after tending to my wounds he'd left me lying on the marble for the dawn , but now I felt his emanating presence by carved oak door way . He looked over to me once more and I realised he was watching with keen interest at the bandaging on my lower arm. Although I could ascertain that a lot of blood had been lost the previous night - and felt dressing the wound was best, the binding had little to do with the wound itself. No - not because of blood loss I assure you, but I didn’t want Ville to see me like this.
He was Ville, strong and beautiful and perfect. What was I? Nothing but an object to make amusement for my owner. Nothing more than animate at best.
I only wonder what it would be like, to be loved by a God -no… no I mustn’t even think that. He’s too perfect. I can't disgrace him to the point of even dwelling on the idea.
I trailed my hand over the dressing, covering my shame as he watched me hungrily.
“Don’t look at me.” I said weakly.
“When have you denied me before last night, my dear? You should learn by now its pointless to refuse me anything,” he said coldly, too coldly.
It hurt.
I shuffled weakly into the corner of the Master's bedroom where I had been abused the night before. I wanted to melt into the wall. I hated being like this around him. It felt like he was peeling me away with his burning green gaze.
“Why do you hide from me, Bam?” he sneered, knowing exactly what was going on within me. He knew me too well. I didn’t answer, just replying in a scared and shamed squeak. A slow velvety laugh rolled from him as he came towards me cigarette between his pursed lips, extinguishing it on the table besides our bed on his way . Hmm, ‘our’ bed. It was hardly ours, the way I was treated. I’d be used and left to sleep on the rug by the fire like a dog, a dog at the heel and the mercy of the Lord I worshipped-while he slept alone.
The place beside my Master in that cursed bed was for the one he loved, not me. I couldn’t bear thinking of what could be between us, every cold morning spent curled up on an icy marble floor crying myself to sleep as the sun broke through the darkness outside my home and the tearful truth that I would always be alone. I wanted to scream and beg for him to not punish me again, I wanted to make him soften and show me the gentle side of my Master that he kept from me. I dared not even move.
He knelt beside me and all I could do was keep my head down. I didn’t want him to see me or look into my eyes. I’m pathetic. He knew me, he also knew my shame.
“Come here,” he said, and I was put into a sort of shock when he took hold of my arm delicately , “Let me see..”
I winced. It wasn’t from the wound, I just couldn’t stand him touching me. His skin was so warm. It felt unholy, his touch. Of course he had fed on me; the blood was coursing through him, I could see it. He was surprisingly gentle as he began to unwind the blooded dressing on my arm. He wasn’t hungry I could now see so I had nothing to fear it seemed.
The gash was deeper and more fierce than when it was done, and he studied it intently as he ran his fingertips over the edge of my torn skin. I let out a gasp of pain as a solitary tear ran down my marble white cheek.
“N-no..” I sniffed, trembling all over. The pleasure of it all. This pleased him greatly.
“Are you going to disobey me again?” he asked “I saw you, by the way, with those mortal boys the night you failed to feed me..“ something in his eyes told me he was hurt. I said nothing.
“I know you wanted them Bam, I saw you that night...I see all things."
There had been young men the night I could not drag a victim home for him, and yes, they had propositioned me many times. Needless to say I had refused them. I wanted to shout and prove him wrong, I wanted to tell him I was his and his only, but I remained silent.
Although I didn’t know it then, my heart was breaking. He moved to rise but boldly I caught him, gripping his shoulder in my hand. His words of my disgrace had willed me this audacious action.
“Don’t leave me alone,” I sobbed. My emotions were crippling me. He loved this; I was in pain and he loved every second of it. But he looked despondent when my eyes met those orbs of green. He kissed me, like he always did, but this time it was different. There was no emotion in it, it was a simple gesture no more meaningful than if he had put his hand on my shoulder. Then he left me.
He simply walked away and sat on the bed, igniting another cigarette and began smoking away. This was some kind of game to him. I became angered by this.
“Damnit, Ville!” I screamed, upsetting a table I had been cowering near, breaking the vase and sending roses across the marble floor.
“What?” he spoke in a flat tone.
“Don’t give me that shit!” I continued, now through tears of rage, “Why do you treat me like I'm a puppet? Am I your toy!?”
------<3
Hope you feel this part was up to scratch:) this is giving me a great incentive tp revise my old work!
*brandished a basket of muffins and vam photography for commentators*
He was Ville, strong and beautiful and perfect. What was I? Nothing but an object to make amusement for my owner. Nothing more than animate at best.
I only wonder what it would be like, to be loved by a God -no… no I mustn’t even think that. He’s too perfect. I can't disgrace him to the point of even dwelling on the idea.
I trailed my hand over the dressing, covering my shame as he watched me hungrily.
“Don’t look at me.” I said weakly.
“When have you denied me before last night, my dear? You should learn by now its pointless to refuse me anything,” he said coldly, too coldly.
It hurt.
I shuffled weakly into the corner of the Master's bedroom where I had been abused the night before. I wanted to melt into the wall. I hated being like this around him. It felt like he was peeling me away with his burning green gaze.
“Why do you hide from me, Bam?” he sneered, knowing exactly what was going on within me. He knew me too well. I didn’t answer, just replying in a scared and shamed squeak. A slow velvety laugh rolled from him as he came towards me cigarette between his pursed lips, extinguishing it on the table besides our bed on his way . Hmm, ‘our’ bed. It was hardly ours, the way I was treated. I’d be used and left to sleep on the rug by the fire like a dog, a dog at the heel and the mercy of the Lord I worshipped-while he slept alone.
The place beside my Master in that cursed bed was for the one he loved, not me. I couldn’t bear thinking of what could be between us, every cold morning spent curled up on an icy marble floor crying myself to sleep as the sun broke through the darkness outside my home and the tearful truth that I would always be alone. I wanted to scream and beg for him to not punish me again, I wanted to make him soften and show me the gentle side of my Master that he kept from me. I dared not even move.
He knelt beside me and all I could do was keep my head down. I didn’t want him to see me or look into my eyes. I’m pathetic. He knew me, he also knew my shame.
“Come here,” he said, and I was put into a sort of shock when he took hold of my arm delicately , “Let me see..”
I winced. It wasn’t from the wound, I just couldn’t stand him touching me. His skin was so warm. It felt unholy, his touch. Of course he had fed on me; the blood was coursing through him, I could see it. He was surprisingly gentle as he began to unwind the blooded dressing on my arm. He wasn’t hungry I could now see so I had nothing to fear it seemed.
The gash was deeper and more fierce than when it was done, and he studied it intently as he ran his fingertips over the edge of my torn skin. I let out a gasp of pain as a solitary tear ran down my marble white cheek.
“N-no..” I sniffed, trembling all over. The pleasure of it all. This pleased him greatly.
“Are you going to disobey me again?” he asked “I saw you, by the way, with those mortal boys the night you failed to feed me..“ something in his eyes told me he was hurt. I said nothing.
“I know you wanted them Bam, I saw you that night...I see all things."
There had been young men the night I could not drag a victim home for him, and yes, they had propositioned me many times. Needless to say I had refused them. I wanted to shout and prove him wrong, I wanted to tell him I was his and his only, but I remained silent.
Although I didn’t know it then, my heart was breaking. He moved to rise but boldly I caught him, gripping his shoulder in my hand. His words of my disgrace had willed me this audacious action.
“Don’t leave me alone,” I sobbed. My emotions were crippling me. He loved this; I was in pain and he loved every second of it. But he looked despondent when my eyes met those orbs of green. He kissed me, like he always did, but this time it was different. There was no emotion in it, it was a simple gesture no more meaningful than if he had put his hand on my shoulder. Then he left me.
He simply walked away and sat on the bed, igniting another cigarette and began smoking away. This was some kind of game to him. I became angered by this.
“Damnit, Ville!” I screamed, upsetting a table I had been cowering near, breaking the vase and sending roses across the marble floor.
“What?” he spoke in a flat tone.
“Don’t give me that shit!” I continued, now through tears of rage, “Why do you treat me like I'm a puppet? Am I your toy!?”
------<3
Hope you feel this part was up to scratch:) this is giving me a great incentive tp revise my old work!
*brandished a basket of muffins and vam photography for commentators*