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And he came behind her. A tall, ominous figure in the shadows. She could
feel his body press against hers and she smiled as she continued rinsing the
dishes. She could feel his breath against her hair as he bent his head down
towards her ear. He began to whisper with low, seductive tones. She could
feel his hands running down the length of her arms. She finished the last
plate and smiled as he told her how desperately he wanted her. Then she
heard a resounding 'click' from her hands. And she looked down at his hands
holding her wrists around where new manacles have been placed.

"What are you doing?" she questioned with an edge to her voice. And he
didn't respond but with his hands. They kept moving up her arms, then her
hips, then down her legs. She never minded a little bondage. She felt his
hands massage her muscles strongly. God, was she excited. Then she heard
another 'click' around her feet.

She felt his hands cradle her and pull her back until she was lifted off of
the floor. Up to the room he wisked her. The darkness of the room was un-
bearable to the eyes. Her eyes stayed completely blind to what was around
her. All she could do was feel his body next to hers, hear his body beneath
and above her. Then she was put down. She could feel the coldness of the
floors under her feet. And she neither felt nor heard anything around her
until again, his body came near and pressed close.

One hand of his slipped under her arm and began rubbing at her belly. It
moved to her stomach and past until it was firmly latched onto one of her
breasts. The other behind her - ripping. Buttons thumped on the floor and
noiselessly rolled away into the shadows. She could feel his head bend
towards her ear again and she began to shy her head away to avoid giggling.
Breathing down her ear always caused a tickle.

In a soft, sensual voice, he said calmly, leisurely, entertained, "You know
I would never do anything you wouldn't want me to do." The dress began
falling off of her shoulders. She caught a shadowy glimpse of the torn
sleeves mercilessly tumbling towards the ground. She had thought perhaps the
clothes would have proved an obstacle for the restraints, guess not.

She again could feel his fingers stroking her belly. The other hand sliding
down the scope of her buttocks. It was following the path of her panties -
around and in between. He was massaging around the opening of her anus. She
could feel her muscles begin to tighten on their own volition.

She placed her hands upon his fingers as his hand rubbed her belly, but then
it stopped and began sliding its way upward once again. It left her hands
behind because beyond her stomach, her hands could no longer follow. His arm
wrapped around her holding her against him tightly, as its hand cupped her
breast carefully, as if fragile. She was firmly against him, she knew why.
She could feel her legs lose strength as he brought his other hand around to
the front and began stroking her labia, and alternately, the orifice of her
vagina. Like a girl who has never been touched, she gasped silently as
arousing waves raced up and down her body at his first gentle touch. She
wanted to move but found herself practically frozen against him. He was so
close. Even her head wouldn't lean back. But she wasn't going to give in,
she wasn't going to make a sound.

His fingers maneuvered their way to the head of her clitoris. She could feel
it become irritated, swollen, more sensitive as it slid over his fingers
over and over again, from one side to the other. Then he pinched the tender
tip. She moaned. Her hands snapped downwards by the weight of her legs in an
attempt to lift them. That hurt. He wasn't playing fair. He hates it when
she can contain herself. His fingers began teasing the vulnerable tip,
softly - almost apologetically. She felt her nipple the recipient of a
powerful squeeze from his thumb and forefinger. His fingers began to move
faster. She squirmed in his grasp as she found arching her back was
impossible. Her hips began swaying to a silent rhythm. She was locked there,
forced to endure his frenzy personified in his prowess.

Then he stopped. But she couldn't stop taking her erratic, deep breaths. She
wanted to run away from him. Tortured by bliss. It was wonderful and she
hated him. God, did she want him to finish. She felt his hand once against
return to her buttocks and sidle it's way under until she was again lifted.
His hand continued sliding until it had a firm hold of her thighs.

She was laid upon the large bed as close to the center as he could place
her. She felt his clothes devour her body as his cloak wrapped her in a new
dark- ness. His lips found hers and they sucked gently. Slowly, his tongue
perused her teeth. As if it were a new endulgence, his lips mashed against
her and she felt his teeth as they pierced against the inside of her lip.
She jumped slightly in pain.

She could hear the motion of his hand fighting with something, that she
thought unfortunately was not the restraints. She couldn't help but feel a
certain exhiliration that they were on. Where did they come from? She didn't
know. They looked so old.

His other hand was not laid to rest either, it continually directed her head
in the direction he wished it. Tilting it to the right, if he wanted to kiss
the left corner of her mouth, and to the left, for the right corner.

She felt his knees drag forward, as if in a crawl. They pushed forward
relentlessly, spreading her legs wider until the chains became taut. He was
naked except for the damned cloak. Actually, she loved the cloak and loved
pretending to hate it. He would never have worn it otherwise. Something
about a vampire wearing a cloak, it seemed so dark, so dangerous, so right.

He was waiting. His glans pressed against the edge of her vagina. He was
excited, but he didn't slide his way in. He was waiting.

Then one of his hands grasped her behind her neck, to keep its mobility his.
The other slid down and traced the curves of her side. It touched gently
around her breasts, making an outline with his finger. She was growing
anxious. She wanted him inside her badly but he wouldn't do it. Not yet.

Then his head dipped down and his teeth sunk into her breast. A wave of pain
and ecstacy came over her. She felt as if she was floating through a thick
matrix of air, she was flowing with it, she felt everything in it, and she
loved its comfort. Then she was sinking and it was wonderful. The biting
turned into kissing and sucking, but the feeling remained with her.

Her wrists were stuck between her pelvis and the weight of his body. Though
he didn't stay still, her hands did. She lifted her elbows in an effort to
pry her hands out from under him, and they forced their way free. She could
feel him smile. It was as if every muscle smiled along with his lips.

His tongue began wiping off the mess on her breasts. She could feel the
sting of his saliva upon her wound. Even that seemed pleasurable. His whole
body stayed still as he licked her breasts, nipples. He was enjoying the
taste.

She whimpered as his penis pushed its way inward. She would have sworn there
wasn't enough space for it. She pressed her head back into his hand. He
lifted his face. A cool chill spread its icy fingers upon her breasts as his
lips left them, cleaned. He watched her as she tried to shift her face from
one side to the other. She was trying to be silent. He smiled.

She could feel his penis growing inside. She wanted so desperately for it to
move. In or out, it didn't matter, she just wanted it to move. She could
feel his eyes upon her, looking at her, no best to say, admiring her.
Another smile, she was almost sure of it. She couldn't see him as he could
see her. She could only see a shadow against the darkness. His fingers
gripped her neck tightly. She didn't feel like turning her head against the
pressure.

He still didn't move, but even the lack of motion didn't curb his arousal.
She couldn't help but relax under the long lasting torment of the wait. And
she knew that when she did, the wait would be over. But she couldn't hold
her strength forever. So, she let go. And he began.

She thought of all those times people say to relax, well, maybe they didn't
mean it that way. Relaxation works for those whose bodies knew it was
coming. Her body was tired, and didn't know it was coming. As he pulled it
out and slid it back in again, it made her cry out. She moaned like a child
scared of the night. He won, the anxiety and anticipation broke her down. He
was smiling. Only for a moment did the defeat hurt her ego, after that, she
wanted more. She wanted to grab him too, maybe even scratch him. Her hands
couldn't respond. She tried to curve her back to compensate for the minimal
movement allowed her, but it barely helped. She was forced to moan, yell,
make a fool out of herself in front of him. She felt every chill wash over
her body. Her neck was tense, her nipples were hard, for a moment she felt
she didn't know where to go, what to do. Then an enjoyable nothingness
blanketed her as a wet warmth swarmed inside of her. Only by his movement
could she tell he slipped out of her. He released his grasp only so that his
tongue could begin working madly against her clitoris, lapping away like a
hungry dog.

She began to caress his hair with her hands, but he pushed them aside. He
lifted himself above her again, leaving his hand to wrestle with her
clitoris. She still couldn't stop her heavy breathing. He smiled, she could
have sworn she could almost see his teeth and eyes. "That was a long one" he
said in a soft, low and amused tone. "And a short one for you," she said
defiantly. He only chuckled.

She brought her face to look at the side wall, which she couldn't see
anyway, but she wanted to avert the conquesting look she knew he had in his
eyes. An anger came over her because that took at most an hour, and they
still had the rest of the night. His hand met her jawline, and stroked it
softly. Then his lips came and pressed a small section of her jaw between
them, while his hand slowly regained its old control of her head. "Sara..."
he whispered. He knew she felt defeated, then pleased, then annoyed, and
then at last angry. He worked to make her feel that way, each emotion in
it's own timely succession. She couldn't deny how great he was with this.
How horribly wonderful he was and is at this. She couldn't help but love
him. He knew her so well, he knew she would never resist him, and he knew he
was enslaved by her through this very control.