Let me win

My head was on my arms on the table and I groaned a little.

"What's up now?" He asked. We'd ended up last of our group in the pub, and he was probably just worried I'd drunk too much and he'd have to help me outside to puke.

"Nothing, just men doing my head in." I replied, and sat up to take a sip of water.

He tutted. "I don't know why you let them hurt you like this, I know you're into all that, but..."

I stopped him. "Chance'd be a fine thing!  He's not doing anything to hurt me, that's the problem!"

He frowned at me. "Oh, I don't want to know this..."

I didn't listen. "I'm just... bored. I can't get on with my life because I'm craving some nastiness, some darkness..."

"Can't you just, I don't know, fuck yourself up a bit?"

"What do you think I'm doing now?" We stared at each other a little too long. Eventually I looked away and broke the silence, "It's not about pain, anyway. It's just a means to an end."

"So what is it about?"

I sighed, and declared the obvious. "Control."

He considered this for a while then stood up. "I need another drink."



There was a pint on the table in front of me. "Oh, I don't know, I think I've -"

"Drink." His tone was strange, I had the glass to my lips before I knew what I was doing. "Do you want to be my pet?" He continued casually.

I spluttered and went red. "Wh- What do you mean?"

"I was just wondering if that was what all this was about, if you were trying to get me to... take charge." He sipped his drink and looked at me with an odd expression.

"No, God, no, sorry..." I was thrown. I'd been flirting with him recently, but I didn't think it was going anywhere. Still... When he'd asked... I'd felt something like... joy?

I looked down at the table, he was idly drawing something in some spilt beer, something like a zigzag? A circle? I went cold. It was a spiral. I looked up and he met my gaze. "Drink," he said again. I complied.

Somehow I managed to speak. "I'm not, you know... I'm not trying to get off with you.

He laughed. "I should hope not, I don't find you very attractive" I was cut, his words stabbing into me like hot blunt knives. I felt tears in my eyes. His smile was familiar and unsettling at the same time. "Shh, pet, what's wrong? I thought you liked some emotional pain, a little psychological torture?"

Things seemed to be spinning wildly. "What's going on?" I whispered shakily.

"Same as always, we're just hanging out, fucking with each other's heads, I was just suggesting... that sometimes... you can let me win..."

I rushed outside into the cool night air, and retched up my guts on the pavement.

Sleep Over

More fiction, have fun

---

"She's off fucking someone else anyway."

"How do you know? You been hanging around with freaks so long you've caught telepathy?"

"I just know her. I'm 95% certain she's in bed with Johnson right now. She'd go for someone fiery, bloody..."

"Oh? Only 95%?"

"Hmm, well, there's a 4% chance she'd crawl back to her dumbass brother, and perhaps a 1% chance she'd just pick up some random woman." He leant over to whisper smoothly in her ear. "Maybe your Sarah."

Caroline snorted with a mixture of anger and distaste. "God, I don't know why I thought it'd be OK to sleep over, you're a relentless bastard, Milton."

"That's why you stayed, sweetpea." He sounded amused, but pinned her down whenever she wriggled away from under him.

She sighed and lay still, "I stayed because I missed the last bus, and because you said you wouldn't mess with me."

"Well if you believed that, you deserve everything you get," his hand moved slowly up her leg, each imperceptible step seemed hardly worth fighting over, until his fingers were so far up that it was too late.  It was a stupidly obvious trick, and yet she'd never worked out how to resist it. Even when she used to tell him to stop immediately, he'd laugh and run rings around her until she was distracted anyway.

A lethargic acceptance crept over her, the familiar pattern of submission had never really left her, he could set it off whenever he wanted.  "OK, fine, what do you want from me?"

He chuckled, "Always suspicious!  Is it so unlikely I just want you for your body?"

Caroline glared.  "Well since you dumped me when I was younger and thinner, I do have to ask myself why you'd go to the effort of seducing me now..."

"Does this count as seduction nowadays? My how words get devalued. We're just two old friends, lounging around, chatting, relaxing, opening up..." His touch spiralled over her, he was right, he wasn't trying hard, almost as if he was testing how little he needed to do to get inside.  Was that it?

"You can't put me under that easily nowadays, Milton," she lied, "I'm in love with someone else."  The room was blurry, she couldn't decide if it was safest to close her eyes or look into his cool gaze.

"That never helped you before," he breathed.  

She groaned - everything he was doing was so corny,  a caricature of an evil charmer, and yet it was pushing all her buttons, all her silly teenage fantasies, before she realised how much more... interesting it could get.  It was almost as if he was trying to...

"I wonder if any of your triggers still work, darling?"  He was always interrupting her thoughts like that.  Fear and sense battled in Caroline's head, it had been years since he'd used those, she knew they would have worn off, and yet, and yet... she'd fantasised about this so much in the intervening years, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of pretending she was still his victim, repeating the one word she could remember him using to make her mind blank.  So long as he didn't use that one - he couldn't know about it, that would be impossible! 

But as she saw him smile cruelly, she knew she was lost.

Compulsion to Destroy

This is another draft snippet of the unpublished series of stories I mentioned before.

---------

We were in a booth with the curtains closed, my head in Johnson's lap. I was exhausted from not sleeping properly for too long and just wanted to drift away. Of course, he kept asking difficult questions, taking advantage of my vulnerable state:

"So how's it going with Milton? How does Josh feel about it? Do you care if you hurt either of them? Do you like Milton more than Josh? More than me?..."

Eventually I couldn't stand it. "Bloody Hell, Johnson, shut up! Why do you care?" He went quiet, trying to hide his feelings, but I got a glimpse of jealousy. I chuckled cruelly "I saw that. Remember you don't own me, you never will."

"I do when I make you need me so much you forget everything else."

"Big claims, big guy," I was talking bratty, but we both felt the power shift. I opened my eyes and realised he'd got Hungry while we'd been sitting there. It wasn't irresistible yet, but my tiredness made the throbbing compulsion to submit a little harder to resist than normal.

He could tell and narrowed his eyes triumphantly. "Just go with it, Kitty, you're so close already."

A slow wave of need flowed through me and I watched it consume me as if I was outside my own body. I groaned at my weakness, I'd been stupid to put myself at the mercy of someone I'd been taunting. He'd make me suffer horribly and it just made me all the more horny for him.

"Be a good girl and sleep now."

---

Waking from vampire induced sleep is always a bit groggy, like I've been drugged. Sensations came to me, a chill across my breasts, rope round my wrists, a sharp point at my neck. I dragged my heavy eyelids open. I was naked, bound, with a knife at my throat and a man grinning at me like I'm meat. Saturday night as usual, then.

I licked my dry lips. "OK, Johnson, you win, you're the best, your dick is twice the size of either of theirs."

Somehow he stopped himself from slitting my windpipe, but his eyes flashed angrily. "Just tell me, if you're so into Milton, why are you here with me now?"

I paused, thought hard, wanting to give him a straight answer. My mouth opened and I heard myself say "I just have a compulsion to destroy things."

He laughed dryly. "Funny you should say that." Teeth were on my neck, he was biting hard and I felt myself getting faint. I knew his Hunger wasn't actually for blood, but I still couldn't shake off the primal fears he stirred in me. I was in both worlds at once, feeling blood pumping out of me and yet knowing it was all in my head, and it was just my submission he was feeding off.

A feeling like death overtook me. I half wanted him to gut me so my body could match this spilling sensation. "What's going on?" I gasped.

His mouth came up to my ear, and he hissed "I'm draining you"

"Why?"

"Because I can."

His eyes were cold and I hated myself for underestimating him, treating him like a joke, the one I could fool around with and not have to face any consequences. He was reminding me he could destroy me if he chose to.

I summoned up all my strength and made my eyes as soft and helpless as I could. "P-please, Johnson, you're hurting me."

He knew he was being played, but it made him so hard he didn't care. He crushed me to the floor, and as the fuck frenzy took us over, I could breathe again.

Cold Eyes

This is a fantasy that turned into the start of a story.  The characters are some I've been working on for a while, although I haven't published anything with them in yet, so don't worry if you don't know the backstory.

---------

I turned up on his doorstep, shivering and crying. I shouldn't have done this, I was almost ready to run away when he opened the door and it was too late.

He looked at me coldly, "I told you not to come here uninvited." There was no sign of the charm he usually seduced me with - I'd gone against our agreement and would have to fight to get anything at all.

I was deperate, and tried to sound appealing through the tears. "I'm sorry, please... please let me in, I've got nowhere else to go!" I looked up at him with big eyes, "I'll be good, I'll do anything you want."

He laughed deep in his throat and I knew I'd done enough. "Come on then, crybaby, I'll hold you to that!" He left the door open and walked away from me; I scuttled upstairs after him gratefully.

I entered his living room to see him settled into his chair as if he'd never got up. I made for the sofa but he shook his head curtly, so I stood awkwardly in front of him.

"So, who's upset you this time?" He asked, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

I hesitated, then blurted out, "Josh of course! He's gone and run off with some little blonde tart again!"

"Well, shit, that's nothing new! If that's all, I'm sorry I let you in!"

I looked down at my feet. "He says he loves her..."

He laughed, cruelly. "Does he now? He's getting soft. Well I can see why you came to me, then."

I met his cold stare. He might never tell me he loved me, but at least he wouldn't fall in love with anyone else. Right now that was some kind of comfort. We understood each other: I wanted him to hurt me, to scour out the stupid pain my brother had caused me. In return I was going to have to pay, the only thing I didn't know yet was the price.

"Strip."

His orders were always flat, disinterested. For some reason that thrilled me more than overt passion would - I knew he desired me, or he wouldn't have let me in. I started to take my clothes off teasingly, trying to arouse him enough to crack the ice, but my efforts were in vain.

"I don't want all that bollocks, just get 'em off," he spat.

I should have known better than to try cheap tricks like that. I got my clothes off as quickly as I could without ceremony, and was both gratified and frightened to see his eyes glint as I glanced at the uncurtained window.

"Well, I suppose we can start with that, if you want me to go easy on you," he feigned kindness, and I sighed, turning to face the street. It wasn't busy, and his flat was on the first floor, but I didn't like being vulnerable like this. When I'm naked on stage, I'm in control. Here I was very far from it, and anyone looking in would see that.

Now my back was to him, his voice became softer, although no less commanding. "Slide your fingers in, slowly mind, and circle them around the way I like." I'm not an exhibitionist, but there was certainly something hot about exposing myself like this. I felt the humiliation become more manageable as the fuzzy warmth of losing control took over.

"Let every circle turn your mind off a little more," he was almost whispering now, but I could hear his words clearly without my thoughts getting in the way. Dreamily I noticed a woman sit down at the bus stop across the road. All she'd have to do was look up to get a full view of my show.

My hand sped up, slipping greedily around and inside. "Seen someone?" he asked casually. I nodded, too caught up to speak. "I think you know what to do, then," he was sure I'd obey the unspoken order, and I groaned knowing he was right.

I took a step towards the window, willing the woman to look up so I could finish this beautiful torture. The moments stretched out, I was getting closer and closer, but couldn't tip myself over without the trigger of shame. Finally she glanced up but her eyes slid off me immediately. I made a mewling noise and he chuckled, "Patience, Kitty."

I was panting, right on the edge, trying to beam messages into the woman's mind. Her head tilted up again, gaze drifting over the windows, perhaps unconsciously drawn to the movement, then at last she really saw what was going on in front of her. I shook with gratitude and felt his cold eyes boring into me from behind, her hot stare stabbing me from the front. I felt impaled, skewered between them, a puppet serving only to generate a response in a stranger. She blushed and looked away and I fell to the floor, burning too.

He got up to close the curtains, checking to see if our audience was still there. "Aw, we frightened her off," he said with slight regret. I didn't ask how he knew who'd been watching, he probably worked it out from my body language. "Right, that was fun, let's get on with something a bit more demanding."

I was pathetically grateful to feel my earlier pain disappearing as his cool scrutiny chilled me right through.