Cake (4 page)

Oh that ass!

“
There are times, Sex, when I become very exasperated with you. Just when I think that you and I are coming to an understanding, you find another avenue to take to annoy me, which just leads to more discipline and training for you. It would be refreshing if you would remember that for once. I mean, it is not always pleasure for me to punish you. I grow weary of it too, when it brings you no pleasure, my pet.” Marcus came to a stop in front of me.

I knew he was waiting for me to sit up and beg just like a good little puppy, but I stayed hunched over and simply stared at the floor. I wasn’t going to help him belittle me more.

He sighed and continued on. “Because of what you did today, you have lost the privilege of using your arms. If you want to eat, I will have to feed you. If you want to drink, it will be from my hand, and as we have learned from the past, I will force what you need into you if I must.”

He picked me up by the scruff of my neck with one hand and dragged my dead-weight ass to the long leather couch that was in the room. It was made of a very soft leather, and its color was black, to minimize the show of blood when he punished me. He threw me there now, to land crumpled on the floor, and then he sat down on its cushions, opened his legs, and set me between his knees. His massive hand took my chin and pulled me up to my own knees, and then he turned my head to the right to so he could look at how savagely he’d ravaged my neck. He hissed, and his lips flattened into a straight line. My neck had to look as wonderful as it felt.

“
I took you in anger because of this.” He pointed to his face. A jagged thin line of healing showed that I had done some damage to his nose, but to no avail, as it was already mostly healed.

I may not have managed to rip it off. But, at least I’d ripped it open. I knew better than to smile in triumph though. How triumphant can one be when they’d been raped and used like a snack pack? I looked away, finding the grey concrete of the floor more interesting than his new scar.

Marcus put his glass down and cupped my head with both of his hands. I panicked and tried to pull away. “Shh, shh, Sex. I am just going to lick you. You know my saliva has healing properties. We have done this before.”

Yes, we had done this before, when he’d ripped something open because I wouldn’t roll over and wiggle for him like a grateful mongrel pup someone picked up in a gay bar.

His saliva burned like iodine. I shivered as I felt that tongue brush my skin. His spittle felt warm on my flesh, and then he touched the fanged puncture wounds. I was wrong! It wasn’t like the moderate stinging of iodine; it was more like the pouring of acid into an open wound. I gritted my teeth and thrashed, but he held on to me with that incredible strength he had and licked at the wounds again. Damn it!

At one point in my life, I would have fought the burning sensation behind my eyes, but what was the point? In front of him or alone in the playroom, either way, I’d end up sobbing. I wouldn’t feel so drained if I let my tears fall when they wanted to, rather than trying to bottle them up. So now, I cried openly.

“
I have scarred you.” Marcus sat back and looked over his handiwork with a frown. “And in a place that cannot be easily hidden. You will have to wear turtlenecks or scarves when we go out.” He said that so matter-of-factly.

Go out? He was letting me go out? I’ve been naked, or naked in chains, more often than not since the day I woke up here. My workout clothes, when discarded for a shower, mysteriously disappeared, leaving me with nothing but a towel to wear more often than not. All I know for sure is that I wake up, see Marcus, and get screwed, whether I want it or not. Ha, like I ever wanted it. Just because he found me in a gay bar didn’t mean I was that way inclined.

I sniffled. My universe had shrunk down to three rooms: the bathroom, the living room, and the playroom—and I try like hell to stay out of the playroom. This was the first time that he’d mentioned anything about going back out into the real world.

“
You like this.”

He was using his thumbs to wipe the tears from my face. I stayed there passively until he was done, and then silently watched as he picked up the glass he was carrying before he’d slobbered on my neck and put it down in front of me with the little red straw in it pointed at my mouth. Cranberry juice on ice with a lime wedge floating in it.

Every damned day, I get the same damn thing.

I took the straw in my mouth and began drinking, mainly because I was thirsty but also because Marcus had no qualms about forcing me to drink it. I had gotten a cracked tooth over trying to argue about that one. How he had gotten a dentist down here was anyone’s guess—amazing, and a bit scary.

“
Your body accepts me.”

He reached between my legs and grabbed my cock. I gagged, coughed on the miss-swallowed juice and winced as it burned in my nasal passage. Marcus laughed, pulled me to my feet by my cock, and set me back against him on the couch. His left hand stroked me, getting me hard, while the other took the straw out of my mouth and wiped my running nose with a tissue.

“
Your body accepted me a long time ago.” He tapped my temple three times with his finger. “Now, I want this.”

I could feel his arousal through his pants, nudging at my bare backside. He took my legs, hooked them around his own knees, and spread me wide, all the while stroking my cock into an erection.

Stop this. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be your damn fuck toy.

“
Yes, you do, my Little One, and you are not my fuck toy. We will have to work on your language. There is no need to be so crass and unrefined. Maybe my little toy—that is what you started out being, but then I saw your mind. You are my perfect match. You have no idea how long I have been waiting for you. But we cannot go any further until this,” he poked me in the head again, “joins in the fun. And we are running out of time.”

He bucked my hips forward with his own, rammed a long, wiggling digit inside me, and began to thrust in time with his stroking hand on my erection.

Please…please…please…please.

What the hell was I begging for? I should be fighting him. He’d kidnapped me and turned me into his own personal sex doll and drinking fountain. His mouth was back at my neck, but this time there were only sucking kisses and that healing tongue of his. It stung, but it was more of a cigarette burn now, rather than a branding iron.

“
You deserve gentleness, Sex. You deserve to be held and cherished for the special creature that you are. I want to do that for you, but you keep fighting me. In a way, it is erotic.” Another sucking kiss, hard enough to leave a hickey, was placed on the underside of my jaw. “I never expected you to give in easily, but then I never thought that the task would be so hard. I could break you completely, but what would that leave me? It would not be you, Sex. I want to sleep with you in my arms, and not have to worry about getting knifed again.” These words were all whispered into my ear through my curtain of hair.

I wanted to laugh, but the sensation he was wringing out of my body was getting too intense. I was horrified as my traitorous body began thrusting back on his finger, then pumping forward into his stroking palm.

Maybe he was right about my body accepting him. At least it was acclimatized to his size now, because of the daily attacks since the day he kidnapped me; back then I had been left bloody and torn, and in nothing but searing pain. The living room, which was now practically empty, had been tastefully decorated—canvases, crystal vases, stemware, and all sorts of breakable paraphernalia. Marcus had been overly excited that night—or was it day?—and after the third penetration in the space of an hour, I had grabbed the nearest thing within my reach, a letter opener, and I’d rammed it deep into his chest.

That was the start of a day of firsts for me. That was the first time that I’d ever seen those red eyes of his. To say he was pissed at what I’d done was the understatement of the century. I discovered a lot of things that day.

I found out how strong he was when he threw me across the room with only one arm. I learned how much pain my body could endure before passing out. My forearm was broken in two places, but I was still perfectly able to experience my first red-eyed rape. I’ve since discovered that when he is extremely turned on or agitated, his brown eyes turn that reddish cast and glow with a fire within. Creepy shit.

That also was the first time I was introduced to being a portable blood bag for a vampire, and more importantly, I learned to be still when Marcus was drinking from me, because it hurt way too much to struggle, and honestly, what was the use? His fangs were already in my life fountain by the time I became aware that he was drinking. Did I mention that he could move faster than a speeding bullet?

When he’d pulled the letter opener out of his chest, I wanted him to stab me with it, to simply end this horror show that was masquerading as my life. Instead, Marcus dropped the knife, ran his index finger through his own blood, and pinned me up against the wall, which was good because I couldn’t have stood even if I had had the strength to do so. He ran his bloodied finger down my forehead, down my nose, and across my lips.

“
You have the honor of first blood.”

I remember watching stupidly, weak from blood loss and the pain of broken bones, as the red glare faded from his eyes and returned them to plain chocolate brown. That was the first time that I felt him in my mind. Considering the heated violence he had just put me through, this was the polar opposite. His mental touch was like a soft, cool, summer night’s breeze playing around in my head.

“
I am going to have to watch myself with you, Sex. You are a minefield. I explode every time I touch you.” He let go of me, and I slid down the wall, landing hard on my abused backside.

I could only stare up at him. I thought I had just been drugged and picked up by some sort of maniac with a vampire fetish. That letter opener should have been my ticket out, either with him dead or me dead, but this? A real vampire? Not some weird geek with red contacts and fangs, but a real vampire? I couldn’t get my head around that. I knew my parents believed in this crap, but I thought I knew better. Vampires were only legends. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. Right?

I’d felt my neck and found two deep wounds, still trickling fresh blood. A vampire had taken me from a bar, locked me up God only knows where, and was raping me regularly, drinking from me when he felt like it, and holding onto me like I was a favorite stuffed doll. The drinking part was far worse than the sex. I’d shuddered and fell over sideways, directly onto my broken arm.

Fucking vampire.

“
Not just any vampire, Sex. My name is Marcus, and I am yours.”

I’d fainted, his final words ringing in my ears. My last thought as the darkness enveloped me was…it was about damn time.

I came back from my little mind trip just as the tip of Marcus’s cock slipped inside of me. His pumping hand around my cock was still busy working me into deep arousal, and yet somehow he had managed to get my knees further apart and had angled my hips in order for him to be able to take me slowly and without resistance. This slow, seductive lovemaking was worse than before, because I almost moaned out loud and not in pain. I cut it off. I didn’t want to receive pleasure from this.

“
Try it, Sex. You just might like it enough to come back for more. I would not mind providing for you any time you ask for it.”