Descent and Ascension Part 4

I wake up, and for the longest time I can't figure out why my arms won't move. I give a little jerk, then pull harder, and the resulting clang jogs my memory. I groan as I remember my promise and shift about under the blankets, wondering what Lestat has in store for me. The bed is already empty, and I can hear him moving around downstairs. A few seconds later he is coming up the staircase. The door opens, and he's holding an armful of the magazines he'd been reading last night.

"Louis, you're up! How long have you been awake?" He sits beside me and places his papers on the nightstand.

"Not long. Why do you have those?"

He smiles and grabs my shoulders, pulling me up so he can steal several kisses. When he releases me, he slides behind me and pulls my body back against him. For a long time he doesn't answer my question, merely running his fingers through my hair and touching my face and chest. His fingers flick over my nipples, and he walks his tips down my abdomen to tickle between my legs. I can't help my moan, and I lay my head back on his shoulder. It is quite a show of trust for one vampire to bare his throat to another. He puts his lips to the skin and sinks his fangs in, but he only takes a sip. He draws the blankets up to my waist and brings the magazines up, opening the first one for me.

"Now, chere, I want you to look at these and tell me what you think, and be honest."

"What? You want me tied up just so you can show me houses?"

"Among other things," he purrs, petting my thigh. "But yes, I wanted to make sure you wouldn't go anywhere until this is done, that way I can start it immediately! See, this is one of the mansions I thought you might like..."

He makes me read for hours, staring endlessly at floor plan after floor plan. We try to read faster, but there are times that he’ll put a magazine down before I’ve seen everything, so I’ll have to ask him to get it again, and that leads to a few squabbles of:

“Lestat, wait, let me see that one again!”

“Which one?”

“That one by your hand.”

“This one?”

“No, the other hand.”

“This one?”

“It’s next to the Home Design issue.”

“Oh, I see it.”

“Not that issue, the other one!”

“Make up your mind!”

“Well, if you would just get the right one--!”

and this happens several times.

We narrow our choices down to two, but that's where we can't make up our minds. The first is a two story Victorian house with an attic and cellar and over twenty thousand square feet. It is sumptuous and I can already imagine the sort of furniture I would like to put in it. The second choice is a four-story tower with a courtyard behind it. Admittedly, there is only a little less than half of the space in this than the Victorian home, and a long staircase, but the sheer romance of living like Rapunzel in her tower is irresistible. Of course, Lestat does not agree.

"It would be cramped, and we wouldn't have much room, and we would get into more arguments than we do now."

"But there's more room in that tower than in this house," I argue.

"See, we're already arguing!"

"Don't you find it romantic, like living in a faerie tale?"

"Louis, it would be like living in a giant cock!"

I turn to stare at him, and I wish my arms were free so I could shake him. "Is this why you wanted me tied up, Lestat? So I couldn't turn around and smack you?"

He grins and kisses me. "Mm-hmm. But seriously, chere, look at that floor plan. We wouldn't have any room for your books or two studies."

I'm about to argue when I realize that he's right. I study the plan again, trying to make it fit everything we will need, and it just won't work.

"Besides, my love, that cellar in the other house is perfect for...well..."

"For what?"

"Think of it as a playroom," he smiles. "With a bed, perhaps some chains, a large screen web vision."

That sells me. He takes the magazine and stands up, leaving me to fall back on the pillows. He abandons me for awhile, and I strain my ears to listen to his phone conversations. I can tell he is calling up contractors of every sort before contacting auction houses. He really does mean to sell everything off.

When he returns, he slips back under the bed sheets with me and wraps his arms around my body, snuggling against me. His head disappears the blankets, and all I can feel are his teasing kisses on my chest, slowing making their way down until he puts his mouth around me. His hands are planted solidly on my thighs, making sure I can't hold him down or kick away. He licks at me at first, then threatens to devour me, firmly sucking me into him. I climax once, but he doesn't move. He continues to work for several seconds until I climax again, and still he doesn't move. After the fourth orgasm I am gasping for breath and groaning like an animal in heat. The fifth passes me by in a blur, followed rapidly by the sixth and seventh, and still he isn't moving. I buck against him, trying to throw him off, but he grabs my hips and draws me further into him. I never dreamed of this kind of torture. I'm already starting to go numb, and I try to plead with him to stop, but I can't form words. I can only moan, and I hear myself mutter fragments of phrases.

"Don't...stop...n'more..." Even to my own ears it sounds like I am begging him to keep going, and for once he is listening to me. I have a strange thought that he is going to drink all of my blood this way. Another orgasm. Thank goodness for vampiric stamina! I lose count at fifteen, and my head falls to the side. I watch the clock tick off the minutes, and only half an hour later does he stop.

The room becomes entirely dark, and I can tell he has turned the lights off. I feel his body scoot down to the foot of the bed, and I hear him move around in the dark. He is dragging something on the floor, it sounds soft and metallic at the same time. Then I feel his warm hands grab my ankles and pull them together, wrapping cold chains around them. I hear the lock click, and then he locks the chains to what I can only guess are the bedposts. When he is done, my legs are held securely in the center of the bed, my feet dangling off the side.

"Lou', have you ever heard of tickle torture?" he asks.

Oh, I have a bad feeling about this. "Lestat, whatever you're thinking of, don't!"

"And who's going to stop me?" I hear a ripping sound, and then something soft brushes across the sole of my foot. I jerk involuntarily, and he laughs. I feel it again, and as I growl in irritation, I figure out what it is. A feather, pulled from a feather duster. The point of it circles my toes and drives down the center of my foot, making it arch away, but I can't escape. The chains are too tight. It brushes my heels and slithers over the sensitive surfaces, and Lestat only giggles every time I whimper and struggle.

The feather starts up my legs, agitating the skin of my thighs and between my legs, where he lingers for awhile. It feels like the softest of kisses, but he starts poking the tip at my balls, and it feels like ants pricking me. It tickles the small amount of my rear that is visible beneath me, and starts up again, rubbing my chest. Finally he gets to my lips, and I squirm under him, trying to turn away. His entire body is on top of me, torturing me with these damn teasing touches. One of the blankets falls over my eyes, blocking off even the most faint light.

And then he disappears.

For a moment I think he's left, although I didn't hear the door open. I wriggle a little, trying to move, but I'm stuck in this position.

"Lestat?" I whisper. Then louder, "Lestat, where are you?" No answer. I try to sit up, but there is some weight holding my head down. "Lestat!"

Suddenly there is a fleeting touch over my chest, and then it fades away. He must still be here, he is toying with me. Well, he can't have long, there's only a couple of hours left before dawn, and he's promised to untie me before then. I swear he's going to wish he hadn't done this when I get through with him. A few minutes later, there is another touch over my face. Three minutes later, a brush over my thigh.

This is going to be a long two hours.

The next night, I wake up in Lestat’s arms, free of last night’s bindings. He’s wide awake, I can tell. When he’s in a mortal sleep, I can usually hear him breathing softly, and his grip is slack. Right now, though, his arms are snug around my body, clutching me to him, and his fingers are running gently through my hair. He doesn’t know I’m awake yet, and I wish I could stay like this forever. Even if I’m nearly as strong as he is now, I’m still his fledgling. I’ll always feel safer in his arms than anywhere else. Still...I’m very hungry. With a resolute sigh, I pretend to wake up.

“Is my love awake?” he whispers in my ear.

“Mmmm...” I reply, I’m still too tired to talk. It’s still difficult dragging myself from the bed.

“Is my love hungry?” he asks.

“Mm-hmm...”

“Then he probably wants to go out and eat?”

I nod again, and even that is too much effort.

“And my little Louis is probably still too tired to hunt, yes?”

Another nod, smaller than the first. I’m falling back asleep. Last night really wore me out.

“Then he will be glad that his lover has already gone out, and eaten enough for two.”

I smile up at him, opening my eyes at last. He’s grinning, and he adjusts himself a little so I may sink my fangs into his throat. I take tiny sips, and he allows me to draw as much as I want, holding me close so I feel warmer. I drink for a long time, gently draining away his strength until I am the one holding him, as if he was my fledgling.

"You promise...you’ll be gentle?” he whispers as soon as I let up.

"Shh..." I whisper to him. "You just need to lay still. I'll do everything for you." I gently set my lips on his, slowly kissing down the side of his face, just beneath his jaw, then to his throat. He knows I mean to bite him again, but I draw it out, teasing the smooth skin. I run my fingertips over it, breathing there as I suck slightly, still not breaking the skin. Having my mouth so near without having my fangs driven in makes him writhe beneath me.

"Please, chere...do it...take me...now..."

"Must I?" I laugh. He really has no idea what I have planned for tonight. Still, I need him weakened beyond exhaustion...without giving him any warning, I sink my fangs in and drain another large amount out from him. His body stiffens up, unable to do anything else.

“My beautiful maker,” I kiss him. “Now you are mine completely.”

"I always am," he protests faintly.

"Not as you will be tonight. Everything you did to me, you shall receive ten fold." I kiss him deeply, allowing him to taste his own blood in my mouth, then slip a velvet nightshade over his eyes. His reaction alone is worth last night's torture. At first he gasps, then tries to shake it off. I keep my hands on his wrists, though, holding him down just enough to let him know he has no say about this. Finally comes acceptance, where he relaxes and allows his head to tip backward a bit on the pillows. His lips part ever so slightly as he breathes softly. He is simply a delectable prisoner, I could just eat him up. Literally.

I gather him up into my arms, enjoying the feel of a willing captive in my power. So wonderful that he trusts me this much, so sweet to have him like this. The Vampire Lestat, mine, all mine. To do with as I please. I give him a reassuring kiss, he must not be afraid of this at all, not one bit. I would absolutely hate to see him cry.

"Wait here," I tell him. "I need to gather a few items from downstairs."

"I'm not going anywhere," he replies wrily.

"No, you're not," I smile again, and leave him there. I rush downstairs to the living room and gather the fresh roses I had delivered just this evening, and then I collect the tassels of a curtain cord and a beautiful blue candle, then run back up with my load.

I stop when I reach the bedroom doorway. Lestat looks so vulnerable right now, reclining on the bed like a prized possession. His naked body contrasts beautifully with the dark blankets and satin sheets. He hasn’t touched the nightshade, only waiting for me to return . He adjusts himself; he doesn't know I am standing only a few feet away. The lighting is just right, it makes him seem like a harem slave, not yet broken. I want to complete that effect, if only I had some...incense! I silently lay everything upon the nightstand and I retreat to the bathroom, opening the cabinet. There is a box of jasmine incense, which I bring with me and set in the holder we have in our bedroom. With a thought I light the tip.

Lestat takes a deep breath and immediately catches the scent. "Louis? Are you in here?" He's getting worried, I can tell.

I stand beside him for a moment, and simply watch his movements. Every motion of the lips, every twist of his foot, even a nervous turn of the head is erotically alluring. He’s too weak now to do much, exhausted from my feeding. He lifts one hand to his hair, running his fingers through the strands. I pick up one of the roses, a full one that has already blossomed out, and I tear out a few petals. He hears the sounds and turns toward it. I allow one petal to drop onto his abdomen, and he jerks at the tiny sensation. For vampires, our senses tell us everything about our environment. For one whose sight has been blocked...the slightest touch turns into an overload. I drop another one on his chest, just beneath his throat, but his sudden buck throws it off.

"Lestat," I say sternly, "you must hold still.” To drive home the point, I gather some of the chain left from last night and bind his ankles and knees together. Instead of locking his arms up, I just grab his wrists in one hand and continue with my other.

"But, what...what are those?" he murmurs. "They're cold."

I bend down and whisper in his ear, "Petals, my love."

"Roses?"

"Mm-hmm..." I lay one petal over his left nipple, and then one on his other side. A handful falls over his nether region, making him gasp and groan simultaneously, and he thrusts with his hips to try and kick them off. Only a couple fall, but I speak as if I am displeased. “No, naughty slave. Who said you could do that?”

“But, Lou’, they’re driving me crazy!”

I drop another handful between his legs again. He squirms horizontally, unable to move but a few inches either way. The petals are making quite a nice nest, and I run my fingers through the silky pieces, picking them up for him. He sighs in relief, then cries out in frustrated anguish when I let them slip back down onto him. He bucks again, but I just replace the ones he throws off.

“Such a disobedient slave,” I chide him. “If you keep this up, I’ll have to punish you.”

“And you aren't now?” he groans, thrusting again.

“Not compared with what I’m about to do to you,” I laugh, taking up the rose which is still only a closed bud. I touch the very tip of it, still cool and moist, to his lips, and he whimpers.

“I thought...I was the one...on the top, no...matter what,” he manages to whisper.

“I’m glad that you trust me so,” I smile, kissing his cheek. “That you can let yourself be vulnerable...and helpless...” I gather up the rest of the rose petals that I’ve torn and toss them all up into the air above his body. One by one they plummet slowly and strike his skin, and he howls at the multiple sensations. When they finish falling, I give him a few seconds to catch his breath, and then I take the rose bud back over his lips, down his chin and throat, to his nipples, where he struggles uselessly.

“Now you must hold still,” I command. “Or else you’ll regret it.” I release his hands and move to the lower half of his body.

The rose travels down the center of his body to his nest of petals in between his thighs, then down to his toes. I am just as merciless with him as he was with me last night. He tries to drag his body up toward the head of the bed, but I laugh and grab his ankles, checking his movement. Then, making sure he knows his place, I pull him little by little back to the edge, where I am waiting to torture him some more. My fingertips are cruel on his soles, and if the rosebud was irresistible on his lips, it’s pure torment here.

“Louis...please, enough...” he gasps, wriggling pathetically.

“No, never enough,” I tease him, but I let up and come back around his side. “Now, are you going to be a good little slave, or do I have to teach you a lesson?” I fondle his petal nest, and he squirms enough to make me lose my grip. “I suppose so.”

“What are you--?”

I sit down next to him and pull him up, wrapping my arms around him like a python. I set the candle I brought in on the nightstand and light it. He hears the flame start up and really starts to struggle, growing more and more frightened as each second goes by. I quickly put my hand on his face, stroking his cheek to calm him down.

“No, no, it’s all right,” I say in a soothing voice, picking the candle up. “I’m not going to burn you. I promise.”

“Then why...?”

“Shh,” I whisper in his ear, nuzzling his earlobe. He groans as I work on him with my lips, and just when he least expects it, I slightly tip the candle over his chest. A tiny droplet of wax hits his skin, and he cries out in sudden surprise.

“Louis! What was that?!”

“Just some candle wax.”

“It hurts!”

“Is it still hurting?”

Lestat opens his mouth to say yes, but he stops before he does. He bites his lower lip, and I know what face means. He’s thinking. “Well, no...but that’s still no reason for you to do that!”

“No?” I laugh as he tenses his body up in anticipation of another drop. Who am I to disappoint him? I let another one fall on the opposite of the first, and then another, and another...within a few minutes, I have spelled out a single letter L.

“Did you do what I think you did?” Lestat snarls affectionately.

“Depends. What do you think I did?”

“What did you make on my body?”

“Just a letter L,” I giggle. “I’ve branded you.”

“You enjoy this far too much,” he says.

“Scolding me, Lestat, when you can’t stop me?” I smile, kissing his lips again before he can react. The stolen ones are always much sweeter. “If you don’t start acting a bit more submissively, I’ll sign my entire name.”

“I swear, Louis, the moment you let me up I’llllllaaaahhhh!” he yelps in shock as I tip the candle over his nipples, covering them up. Before the wax has time to harden, I press the rose petals in, making him look as if he has intentionally dressed in flower petals. I place the bottom of the candle on his abdomen and draw it down his body, letting him feel exactly where it’s going. He can anticipate what I’m going to do next.

“Louis, stop! Wait, don’t do that! Please, no!”

I love the sound of his begging, and he knows it, it's the only reason he's doing it. I hold the candle just a hair’s breath from where I’ll spill the next dollop, hovering it over the sensitive skin. “And what would you do, to convince me not to give you another treatment?”

“Anything, please!”

Anything? I think about things I could do to him or make him do, but I dismiss each one as impractical. Finally I hit upon an idea and lean down to his ear again. “Tell you what. You come up with three different things I can do to you, and I won’t drip anymore wax on you. I’ll choose one of those ideas and torture you that way. But if you don’t come up with three, I’ll coat rose petals in wax between your legs.”

“All right,” he smiles, knowing he can think of three things he’d like. Before he says anything, I lay my fingers over his lips.

“No, don’t start yet. I’m not finished. You’ll only have a minute to think them up and say them, and if you don’t get them in that time, I’ll drip wax on you and do what you‘ve suggested! Ready?”

“What? No fair, wait--!”

“Start!”

I’ve “knocked him for a loop” as David would say. My love does not handle time limits well.

“Um...ah..."

"The clock is ticking, Lestat."

"Um...ice! You could torture me with ice cubes!”

"How?" I ask, intentionally making him waste time.

"How? Don't you know?!"

"Fifty seconds left."

"You can slip it over my skin and face, and make me beg," he says, quite accommodating today.

I nod even though he can’t see me. “All right. Forty seconds left.”

“You could spank me,” he offers, but I laugh.

“What? You call that an idea? I could have thought that up.”

“With a paddle,” he amends quickly.

“That’s not bad, but do we even have a paddle?”

“There’s one in the kitchen, left over from Halloween!”

“That will do. Twenty-five seconds left.”

“Ummm....you could...um...”

“Twenty...”

“Uh...come on chere, you know I can't handle time limits!”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five...”

“Wait, just a moment more!”

“Four, three, two, one!”

“Writing!”

“What? What on earth do you mean?”

“I saw it on a website,” he says quickly. “They tied a man up, spread him out and wrote things on him.”

“Like what?”

"Like...'kiss me' on his lips, 'slap here' on his cheeks, an they drew pictures on him, too."

"Oh, that could be fun," I sigh.

“See, three!” he says triumphantly.

“Yes, and it’s a shame you came up with that last one after the time limit was up,” I laugh. “So you know what I have to do to you.”

Of course he protests fiercely, but what is he going to do? I’m not cruel, though. I leave some petals between his skin and the wax, so he doesn’t feel too much heat, and then press the rest in. Now he has red petals over his nipples and between his legs, he looks scrumptious. Now for his suggestions. I wouldn't mind writing all sorts of things on him, but that would mar his natural beauty, and he's far too stunning for that. The ice, certainly, and perhaps the whip. But first, the paddle. I leave him there to retrieve the necessary items, and when I return, I find him trying to pull the petals off, but he‘s doing it so gingerly, one at a time. I just smile and grab his hands again and pull him back, hauling him up over my lap.

“Now, I did not like it so much when you spanked me so hard,” I tell him, gripping the paddle, “but if that’s the way you like it, then so be it.” I bring the wooden board down hard across his ass, which quivers as it’s struck. He cries out, arching his back, and I smack him again. “Keep count,” I order. “I’ll stop when I reach twenty.”

“Twenty?”

*smack*

“Ah! Three!”

*smack*

“Four!”

I keep my blows slow and steady, giving his skin time to warm up between smacks. Both of his cheeks are turning a nice shade of dull red. As much as both of us enjoy this, I don’t want to hurt him too much. I spank him again, and he howls in painful delight.

“How many is that?” I ask.

“Thirteen,” he mumbles.

*smack*

“Fourteen!”

I raise my arm up high, bringing it down hard enough to rock his body.

“Aagh! Fifteen!”

His ass is practically glowing.

“Now how many?”

“Eighteen.”

I spank him again, and the last one is my hardest. Lestat gasps in pain as I toss the paddle away, and I give him time to rest, caressing his rear in light strokes. As soon as he has his breath back, I set him on his back on the bed and pet his face. Time to go from the punishment to the sensuality we both love.

While he relaxes on the silk sheets, I pick up one ice cube and hold it over his face. He’s still wearing the nightshade, so he has no idea what is above him. I watch the moisture from the cube coalesce on the sides, running down my fingertips on the way to the bottom corner, where it all gathers together and hangs for a moment. I hold my breath in anticipation, and Lestat guesses something is about to happen. Then the drop spills onto his lips, running down the side of his mouth to his cheek.

“The ice, I presume,” Lestat smiles.

“Of course,” I answer, lowering the ice cube down to his lips, running the cold surface along the soft skin and brushing it against his chin. I make it travel over his throat in a straight line to the center of his chest. I gingerly tap it on his nipples, relishing his groans and the struggles he makes. I slow my pace as I bring it over his abdomen to the rose petals, then down his thighs to his feet. That cube is all but gone now, and I pick up another and return to his lips, allowing the droplets to wet his face before running it over his entire body. His muscles shine in moonlight now, the water like finely spun lace on his skin.

“So, Lestat, when is the party?” I ask in mock-innocence.

“Party?” he mumbles. “What party?”

“Daniel’s party,” I remind him.

“Daniel’s...? Oh, that...about...two weeks...” he manages to whisper. “Really, Louis, it’s not important now...”

“And what is important now?” I kiss his moist lips.

“What you’re about to do to me,” he smiles.

I take off his blindfold so I may see his eyes. When he can look up at me again, he grins and puts his hand against my cheek.

“Well?” he asks. “We have the rest of the night, yet. What else do you have planned for me?”

“Want to make love in the backyard?” I laugh.

“Right now, with the dew coming down and the chill setting in?” he responds. “Lead on.”

Part 5