Eventually, he forced me to eat. He tied me to the bed and put in a feeding tube that snaked up my nose, down my throat and into my stomach as I struggled against the ropes and cried. It was disgusting and made me gag, but not as much as the nutrition sludge he put in the tube that flowed into my shrunken stomach. After three days of this torture, he loomed over me, smiling tenderly.
“Are you ready to be a good girl?”
From then on, I ate at the table. Sat in a chair opposite his and stared into the flames.
And then he brought in the next person, an older woman this time, in her mid-forties. She was really pretty and nicely attired in an expensive suit.
“Your choice, doll. Feed, or fuck?”
Wiping absently at the tears streaming down my red cheeks, I asked, “Does it - do you hurt people when you have sex with them?”
James threw back his head and laughed. “No, doll. It’s good.” His voice deepened and thickened, his pelvis pressing into the small of the woman’s back as she whimpered. “You’d come so hard. Over and over.”
“What about her?” I asked, “You won’t hurt her? You’ll let her go?”
His head tilted, staring at me over her shoulder. His smile was oddly gentle, which made it even worse. “Yeah, doll. I will. I can make her forget. So, which is it?”
I gritted my teeth. “Fuck her. Feed from me.”
James’ beautiful features darkened, like a cloud passing over the moon. But he threw the woman on the thick rug in front of the fireplace and pulled off her suit.
Stabbing a finger at a chair close by, he ordered, “Sit there. Keep your eyes open and on me or I’ll kill her.” He turned, murmuring soothingly to her, stripping off his perfectly tailored suit jacket, then his shirt, displaying smooth skin over thick muscle, like marble in the firelight. When he pulled down his trousers, the woman and I both gulped. James was huge, a thick column of flesh rearing up, nearly to his belly button and solid. Climbing over her, he looked over his broad shoulder at me, smiling unpleasantly.
“Don’t look away, doll-baby.”
He kept his word, at least. His rough hands stroked over her body, pinching her nipples, his mouth moving down her body to settle between her legs and bring her into her first orgasm. And then another with two fingers driving up inside her as the woman gasped and moaned, hands gripping the tassels on the oriental rug. James looked over his shoulder again, smiling at me. Shuddering, I could see his glistening mouth and the muscles in his arm bulging as he used his hand to bring her off again.
He knew what this was doing to me. My center was warming, the muscles in my thighs felt looser, breasts heavier. I was disgusted and embarrassed to be watching something that was supposed to be private. Intimate between two people. But this monster was so beautiful. And when his ass flexed and tensed as he drove his cock up into her, my fingers gripped the arms of the chair, digging my nails in. Because my hands wanted to go between my legs and mimic his actions.
When James was finished, when I’d endured listening to them both come with a long, luxurious round of moans and grunts, he dressed the limp woman and carried her out of the room. Waiting for him to return, I started shuddering, running my hands over my suddenly freezing arms. Would it hurt? Would it be erotic, like in the stories I used to love? Or would it just be-
“Get on the bed, doll.”
My head shot up, he’d reappeared soundlessly, standing in front of me and still brazenly, magnificently naked. Clumsily obeying him, I climbed up on to the bed and backed away as he put one knee on the mattress, then the other. Pinned against the headboard, I felt an ache in my chest.
“Breathe,” he was not unkind, hands pulling away my soft t-shirt.
With a heaving gasp, I obeyed. “Is it-” I tried to pull away, “why are you taking off my clothes, you just need m- my neck, right?”
James burst into a hearty laugh, looking gorgeous and charming for a moment. “Oh, my doll-baby. There’s so many places to feed on. And I want all my choices laid out for me.”
I closed my eyes, refusing to look at him, not wanting to see the lust and appreciation as he ran his hands down my shoulders, lifting my wrist to his nose, breathing deep.
“Here?” James mused. Then his nose was nuzzling my throat and I bit back a whimper. “Or, here, doll?” he whispered tauntingly. To my shock, he slid down my body, easily spreading my legs against my struggles. Drawing a finger along my femoral artery, he grinned. “Oh, the blood is so sweet from here.” I jumped as his knuckle caressed my clitoris.
“Why, sweet doll, you’re so wet. You liked watching me make her come? Watching me fuck her? Maybe…” his huge body slid over mine, cool skin over my warmth, and whispered in my ear. “Maybe you’re wishing it had been you? Regretting your choice?”
Stiffening, I glared up at him. “Just get it over with.”
Turns out, he did go for my throat, growling as I screamed and pushed against him.
It hurt, oh god, it hurt worse than anything that had ever happened to me. Worse than appendicitis when I was eight. Or the ski accident that broke my arm in two places when I was twenty-two.
My screams burned up my throat like a trail of toxic fire, making my back arch, hands flailing helplessly. I could hear the sickly noise of him slurping my blood, his breathing in my ear, his pleased grunts. I felt the scrape of his jagged mouth against my skin and the wet slick of blood dripping from me onto the pristine white sheets.
“So good…” James groaned in a voice not quite human, not quite animal. When my eyes slid shut, I was grateful to lose consciousness.
Chapter 10: The Writing Under His Skin
