The Razor's Edge

No sooner than the last blow fell, he went down upon his knees, kissing away the pain. He bit her roughly and Regine gasped as teeth sank into the raised welts, feasting on the hot racing blood there. Nothing prepared her for an experience like this, frightening and arousing both at once. His hands on her cheeks, parting them. His tongue roughly explored her, licking, tasting, sucking greedily, her juices flavored with the taste of leather and pain and her life force.

Regine writhed, moaning, deep, throaty animal cries. Astin will strike her again for her disobedience, but she was past caring. The sound of leather on flesh echoes within the silken silence of the room. Regine strained against the bonds, forgetting that it is she who holds them.

Astin was truly fascinated with her. A thin trickle of blood stained the brown buttocks. Such a magnificent beauty, in such exquisite pain.

More blows latticed symmetrically across her flesh.

A hand softly caressed the places where he has struck. The flesh was scalding hot to the touch, and Regine groaned, choking back sobs.

"I wish you could see it, Regine," Astin drew the tip of the riding crop along one of the welts. "Such artistry, if I do say so myself. I enjoy marking my victims this way. I pride myself on possessing a certain amount of creativity, flair, if you will."

"Besides," and he struck her again, serpent lightning quick. "I find that doing so heightens the victim's pleasure a thousandfold. Doesn't it?"

Another blow fell. Regine tensed, and then relaxed, the pain washing over her. Astin spaced each, wanting her to savor it, to memorize it. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his bare chest, the crop held carelessly in one hand. His erection strained against the confines of the trousers. It takes all the control he has not to strip and fuck her. He cannot let the game end so soon. He was enjoying it far too much.

He knew that she did as well.

A thin sheen of perspiration lent a coppery cast to her dark skin. Her nipples thrust out, drops of solid chocolate kisses. He casually observed the steady rise and fall of her chest. She opened her eyes, slightly clouded with passion haze.

No tears. Yet.

"Tell me something, dearest Regine," sarcasm dripped with cool hauteur. "Have you ever engaged in anal play? As the recipient, of course."

Regine tensed up in shadow sensation, as if he has already invaded her. "No", she whispered.

"I find that rather impossible to believe, considering." Astin's hand enticingly caressed her buttocks, and then pulled the cheeks apart in a firm and insistent grip. "Do I take that to mean 'no', as in you've never been fucked in the ass, or 'no', as in you would prefer that I chose another way to amuse myself? Not that it matters, really. You resist and the pain will be much worse. Not that a little pain doesn't excite you, am I right?"

A last flicker of defiance manifested itself on her face. "You can do whatever else you want to me, but not that."

A finger reached out, traced a line from her cheek to her lips. "You, my sweet little slave, are behaving as if I am giving you a choice in the matter."

"You can't simply do with me as you please, no matter who you are." Even in fear, anger rose to the fore at Astin's high-handed treatment. "What about safewords? This is against the rules."

The moment the words fell from her lips, does she realize the absurdity of the notion.

Silence. Then Astin's laughter, a sound both erotic and threatening, echoed throughout the chamber.

"Excuse me, but you should have thought of that before you followed me here. I play by an entirely different set of rules. Mine. I am above such trifling concerns as 'safewords'."

Regine tried to wrench away from him. Her struggle amused him. It excited him. He found the irony of her situation delicious. She could end this if she chooses by simply letting go of the silk. Predator he might be, but he has never forced anyone.

He has never had to.

"Please don't fight me, Regine. Submission to me will be that much sweeter, if you give in to what you desire. Astin's face moves closer to hers. His breath was warm and sweet, slightly spicy, slightly metallic from her blood. "Your body and soul belong to me, even if you don't know it yet."

His mouth captured hers in a rapacious kiss, laying claim, tasting blood. He pressed the back of her head with his hand, insuring that she could escape. He bit her bottom lip, swallowing and savoring her blood with all the delicacy of a connoisseur of fine wines.

She could not breathe. She was drowning. His kiss drained the life from her body. It was a kiss that she returned willingly.

Regine's body flowed into the swirling rapids of his domination. If she was to die, then let it be like this. In the thrall of a wild kiss, a raging, uncontrollable torrent of possession. How could she ever live again without the bliss that only Astin could provide?

Astin. His name reverberated through her mind like the thundering crash of cymbals.

"Astin." She whispered his name into his mouth.

He pulled away slowly, the taste of her lips forever imprinted into his mind. Her lips are stained with blood. "Do you realize what this means, my dear Regine?" His voice hardened ruthlessly, "Know that you are responsible for what has happened up to this point, and for what shall befall you before this night ends. Of how much pain I can and will inflict upon you, and that you dare not deny me anything . . .including your immortal soul."

Regine's heart raced. "I do."

"Come then, Regine, walk the razor's edge."

Astin spun Regine's body around, her back to him once again. The blows fell on the firm flesh of her buttocks, each stroke causing the skin to ripple. Regine cried out, panting, pleading. This time, Astin did not chastise her for not remaining silent. Her voice, her agony, was thrilling to hear. The sweetest music. His senses were wide open as Regine opened the floodgates of emotions never brought to the light of day. Such forbidden and dark desires from a mortal woman.

"Beg for it, you bitch," he whispered, his lips lightly nipping at her ear. "Not that it matters, I just want to hear you plead. Come on, my love, be my decadent little whore."

Her head rolled back, lips parted invitingly. Each hot kiss of the riding crop blended into the one before it, scarring her body and searing her soul. Regine was too far gone to want to stop. Nothing mattered now, except this moment. If he stopped, she will go mad.

"Astin, damn you!" The words came out in harsh sobs. "Damn you, damn you..."

"I am already damned, Regine, so scream louder."

Regine did so, tears of lust and pain and hunger and need streaming down her face.

"Oh dear god. . . please. . . Astin!" The leather rained like fire, burning. Regine walked into it, consuming her totally. Astin's hand was steady, but just so. He too, burned. He could not go on much longer, his body demanding that lust and hunger be assuaged.

He suddenly tossed the instrument aside, unable to withstand the calling of his body. He shed his clothes quickly. His cock was taut, stretched to the limit, painful to the touch. He rubbed his cock between her legs, coating it with her wetness. With a finger, also slick with her, he parted her ass cheeks, burning hot from the beating. He worked it inside of the tight passage.

There was resistance. Regine tried to push the intruder out. Astin slapped her hard with his other hand.

"Give into me, Regine. You don't have a choice any longer."

Regine sighed, went slack, letting him do as he will, knowing that she wanted this as much, or perhaps even more. She has dreamed of such total surrender.

For Astin, the mental war continued. His mind urged him to take it slow, to teach Regine to relax, to open herself up to him. His body screamed in frustration, feeling itself thwarted. The ache in his groin was nearly unbearable.

Somehow, he found the strength to resist his body's single-minded insistence for a few moments more. He guided himself slowly, inside the lube-slicked passage, impatient to be inside, aware enough to be gentle.

Regine gasped, arching to take it all in, knowing that she wanted this even if it felt as if she was being ripped in two.

Astin felt her stretch and open around him. He went slowly, sinking into her, grasping her hips, pulling her to him. He pulled out slowly, then in again. In. Out. Swept by a tide of sensory overload, Astin thrusts, impaling her fully, pulling her to him, sinking his teeth into her neck as he fucks her hard and deep, drawing forth her blood, thick and hot and flavored with hunger and her need to walk the fine line between mortal pain and transcendent pleasure. He sucked at the pulsing vein greedily, his tongue lapping at the twin punctures. Regine shuddered, her heart pounding in furious cadence.

A single mental command and the silk that bound her hands dropped to the floor. She is free, but only just. One arm fastened tightly around her waist, binding her physically to him. Astin bent Regine forward as the other arm made its way between her legs, his hand entering her again.

In sublime rapture, Regine screamed, her body sweetly violated in ways unimaginable. O death, how sweet thy advent.

"I will not take your life, Regine," Astin's voice a sibilant whispering harshness that captured her mind as his hands have captured her body. "I will take you to the edge, but I will not let you fall."

Sublime pleasure suffuses them both, slaves to the mindless, heedless emotions of lust and surrender. In and out, slow strokes as hips raise and lower to counter each thrust.

Time ceased to exist. Astin's body moved faster, slamming harder inside, himself close to climax. Regine, all semblance of control gone, opened herself fully, her heart beating loudly in the dark silence. Her song one of triumph as well as capitulation. She writhed against his cock and his fist, both which impale her, and bring her such decadent ecstasy.

One last powerful surge, his cry loud and exultant, Astin explodes deeply within Regine. His seed, not surprisingly, is as red as the blood he has taken from her.

IV.

Regine awoke against the downy softness of cotton sheets, freshly laundered, smelling of lavender water. Her eyes adjusted to the faint and hazy light of midmorning, the sun hidden behind heavy clouds.

Her gaze fell upon him, seated comfortably in a padded wing chair, clad in a thick terry cloth robe, his hair faintly damp from what? A bath?

The blue eyes regarded her with cool amusement.

"Simply because I have been dead for several centuries is no excuse to give up the more civilized amenities. Like bathing, for instance."

There was nothing she could say to that, so Regine went back to her quiet ruminations. Astin closed his eyes as if dozing.

She realized that she was taking this remarkable situation rather well, considering that she was in the presence of someone who could read her slightest thought. And who needed blood for sustenance.

"Perhaps I know little concerning the behavior of your kind, but I thought you couldn't function sexually in the way that we do. I thought the taking of blood became the sexual act itself."

Astin cocked one eye open and smiled enigmatically. "You really ought not to believe everything you read or hear about us, my dearest Regine. As to the ability to function sexually, I trust that I gave you ample demonstration to the contrary."

Regine sat up, doing her best to ignore the stiffness of her legs and the slight throbbing of her buttocks. She was puzzled at just how good she actually felt; there should have been a certain sense of weakness. She had no idea of just how much Astin took from her last night.

"Not as much as it seemed," he answered matter-of-factly. "I have excellent control over my hungers, even when it appears that I do not. What wounds you suffered, I used my powers to heal. I cannot have my newest and most lovely possession strolling through Perilous Gard looking as if I'm some type of savage."

Regine returned his look with one of unmistakable challenge. "I'd like to pretend I'm flattered," she replied sarcastically.

Astin stretched his long legs out in front of him, a Cheshire-cat grin crossing his face. His fangs were fully visible, and the effect was dazzling, and a little disconcerting.

"The first order of business, my dear, is to do something about your less than servile attitude. Although I will admit that you wouldn't be the same lacking such a tart tongue. Perhaps," and Astin rose from his seat, undid the sash of his robe, his cock thick and erect," "I think we can put that tongue to a far better use."

[The original version of this story was published in the anthology 'Erotica Vampirica' from Circlet Press, 1993.]