Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Day 15 of Halloween: A Short Gothic Romance story, "Needing" by Jessica Dawson

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She remembered the screams, the desperate calls for help. The images behind her closed eyes filled her nightmares with blood, guts and violations of innocent people. Yes, she was guilty of watching and aiding the demon who lead the harvest.

It made her feel dirty. She showered away the evidence of her sins. Mixing with the suds and water, the sludge slid down the drain, leaving behind the emotion scars. Sacrifices she made to get his attention, made her hate what she had become.

Dominated, bullied, and control by a wickedness that forced her to be what he wanted. Lust bubbled inside her, craving his touch, need to feel him.

She shivered knowing exactly what his touch could to do her. His large hands were calloused and nimble. His fingers danced across her skin, teasing her flesh, caressing only what needed to be touched. Exciting her body with those damned hands, he toyed with her emotions and poured fire into her veins. Bringing her world crashing to ground with a simple flick of his fingertip against her wet clit, his tender touches were what she needed. 

Gasping for air, feeling the power of his memory, she crossed her legs, refusing to touch herself. He wouldn't like that. He demanded she stayed frustrated and untouched, even by her hands. She could feel his smooth full lips against her ear, whispering sternly before he left her, wasting away in his room.
She knew what his lips felt like as they explored her. Licking, nipping, moistening her nipples, traveling down her body determined to taste her wet core, claiming her with his tongue. She moaned, remembering his taste. His flavor lingered on her taste buds, recalling the skill of his mouth, the heat he inspired from a simple kiss.
Filthy, he made her feel filthy. The thoughts he left behind in his absence, weakened her. She fought his charms, telling herself he was using her. She shouldn't be there in his bed, shackled to the headboard, waiting his return.

Hate him, she tried that. She tried to hide. She denied him of his desires. She rebelled attending a party without his permission.

She did all she could do to forget him; dancing, drugs and sex. That's when he appeared. Ripping through the house, demolishing the structure, seeking her, he found her with the stranger. Yanking her out of the bed, he bit into her neck, clamping onto her jugular, sucking her blood from her body.

She clawed at him. She didn't want to be what he was. That didn't stop him as he cut his wrist with his razor fangs and held it against her mouth, pouring his blood down her throat.

“Mine… You'll always be mine,” he growled, glaring into her eyes while he towered over her, driving his illness into her body.

Changing… A sharp pain tore through her chest stopping her heart while her face burned and stung. Her teeth shifted, making room for fangs. Long sharp weapons attached to her skull sliced her bottom lip.
Fear faded into a hunger while the smell of blood entered her nose, feeding the predator in her. Standing on her feet, shoving him away from her, she bathed the house with the blood of her victims, feeding without direction.

Dismembered bodies, crimson puddles, and lifeless eyes following everywhere she went. She tried to apologize to the lost souls haunting her. She begged for peace, giving her sanity for a moment without the memories. All was loss, giving him control, slaving for him while she accepted his gift.

She was his everything, and she knew her fate from the beginning. She grinned into the dark. He was the master. But she was the submissive. He could only do what she allowed.

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