“I feel queasy,” Percy said, and I turned to her sharply. Her face was pale and she looked wide-eyed towards the clear fridges.
“That’s a lot of blood,” she stated.
“Enough for myself, the guard, and servants,” I told her. “You have seen bloodbags before. Why does this make you queasy?” I asked curiously.
“It’s just so much,” she said and looked away.
“It is legally sourced, pet. No one was drained; all were paid the standard fee for donations,” I told her.
“I know, I didn’t doubt that. It’s just… I’ve never seen so much, that’s all,” she replied.
“Where’s the fruit?” she continued and squeezed my hand.
I reached out to open one of the fridges. There were drawers at the bottom, below the rows of hanging bloodbags, where I could smell the fruit had been placed. Pulling open one drawer revealed oranges, large and bright in colour.
“Woah! I’ve never seen an orange this big!” she exclaimed and released my hand to reach in and take one.
“Look at this,” she continued and held the orange next to her face. “It’s the size of a head. How did they grow this? Did another Flores witch make them?” she asked excitedly. It was endearing to watch my pet be so easily happy.
“It is a common variety from the southeastern reaches of House Halverson,” I told her. Her face fell slightly, the upturn of her lips not quite as bright. Was it memories of the summer past, of the fool Oskar?
“I can’t believe this is naturally occurring. Nature is amazing,” she said, and began to dig her fingers into the fruit to peel the skin.
“You’ll make a mess,” I warned as the smell of the fruit filled the space and the juice began to stain her fingers.
She brought a hand to her mouth and dramatically licked a trail of juice that threatened to run below the cuff of her coat. I watched the way her lithe tongue trailed across her palm, up to her fingertip, and her lips enclosed around her finger with great focus.
“I don’t see the problem,” she continued and smirked as she went back to peeling the fruit.
She knew her behaviour was provocative, and I wished to put her greedy little tongue and mouth to better use. I growled in frustration. This tour was going to be challenging.
My little brat giggled in response.
“We will have little privacy in the coming weeks, pet. Tempt me, and I may just have to have you, regardless of the audience,” I warned, and was pleased when her eyes widened and her heart rate increased. The threat of others hearing, seeing,knowing what was happening between us always produced a curious response in my pet—a mixture of fear, embarrassment and arousal. Exhibitionist tendencies that I enjoyed toying with. Tendencies that the more primal, dominant part of me wished to indulge. I could show everyone who my pet belonged to, have there be no doubt that her body was mine, blood and flesh.
The scent of her arousal, subtle as it currently was, caused a burning within me, a smouldering fire desperate to be fanned. I inhaled deeply, unable to resit the temptation.
“If you would like, pet,” I said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “I would keep you so completely aroused, wet, dripping and ruining every set of panties you wore for the entirety of this tour. I would have you painfully desperate for release until you openly begged me for relief. Your scent would be so potent not a single guard or servant travelling with us would be unaware of your state. Would you like that, pet?”
The fantasy of keeping her as constantly as I could on the verge of orgasm and denying her, until she begged—begged completely uninhibited for me—was so very appealing. I wanted to watch her squirm and struggle and be completely consumed with want, that all else was forgotten.
“I, uh, I,” she stuttered out. The orange fell from her hands and I caught the half-peeled fruit.
“W-what?” she swallowed. “I mean, I mean—"
I took her wrist and placed the fruit back in her hand. “As much as I do so hope that you continue to be a bratty tease, sweetheart, perhaps now is a perfect time to work on your self-control.”
She swallowed and nodded. Her scent of arousal had grown considerably, and I found myself summoning my own self-control not to see for myself how wet she had become at my suggestions.
“Sit and eat, pet,” I instructed, and guided her to the bench like seating. “I am going to enquire about our schedule.”
“When are we leaving?” she asked.
“We should depart in the next three days,” I informed her.
“Okay, can I come with you?” she asked.
“I will return for you. Become familiar with the bus in the meantime. We will unfortunately be spending quite some time here,” I said. While I enjoyed time with my pet, the preparations were tedious and I feared the dullness would bore her. The bus was a novelty—something to occupy her time.
