THE CRIMSON FLOW

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Chapter 5.0 - SLAVE

The first thing to sift through Riley’s dimmed senses was the feel of satin or silk both beneath and atop him. His fingers slowly ruffled through folds of the material as his mind registered he was in a bed. At first, he smiled - it had been a while since he last enjoyed such comfort. The past week had been spent in the rundown warehouse, lying on broken-up cardboard boxes, wrapped in old newspapers for warmth while a group of vampires dined on him.

The memory jolted him wide awake, his moment of pleasure diffused. “Where the hell am I?” He breathed. He couldn’t remember much of anything since meeting Luke’s elite in the nightclub. His eyes scanned the room. Large, luxurious yet not openly ostentatious, it was a massive shift from his humble abode.

Light filtered through a gap in the drapes, creating a haze in the room, colours muted. He sat up, the sheet brushing against his skin as it pooled around his waist. He glanced down. Dismay and unease filled him as he acknowledged his nakedness - another thing he could not recall, undressing, which meant someone else must have done it for him.

His body ached, areas even itched. Instinctively, he scratched at his hip. The feeling of dread intensified as his fingertips discovered small punctures in his skin. Gingerly, he peeled the sheet back. Even in the grey light, he could make out fresh bite marks on his body; chest, hips, thighs and groin. He felt nauseous.

His stomach lurched, forcing him out of bed in desperate need of a bathroom. He stumbled his way to a door on the left of the room, tripping over what he assumed was clothing and bashing his leg against a small table. “Shit!” he hissed as he grabbed the door handle.

Relieved to discover it was indeed the bathroom, he entered without putting the light on. He staggered to the toilet, fell to his knees and immediately vomited. He continued dry-retching for a good five minutes before he collapsed, exhausted, onto his buttocks. Gasping, wiping the drool from his chin, he let the coolness of the floor tiles seep into his skin; it gave him a little light relief.

Once his breathing had regulated, he pushed himself up and put on the light. Turning to his reflection in the mirror, reality check number one hit; gaunt, like death, warmed up, an aperitif for the blood-suckers.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to acknowledge what he had become in such a short time. He was a slave! A toy. He could not fathom how a hard-working young man, albeit still to find his ideal job, became a walking IV supply for a bunch of vampires. Was anyone even looking for him? He wondered.

He was, or used to be, a rational thinker, not one given to flights of fancy. Yet, here he stood, wherever this was, duped into thinking being a creature like his captor would be cool. Foolish did not even come close to how he felt right now. Disgusted with himself, ashamed, violated, diseased - were all closer to the truth.

His eyes sprang open again, and he stared back at the feeble image in the mirror. “What the fuck was I thinking?”

His eyes were no longer the sparkling, intelligent blue; they were dark, bordering lifeless. His long lashes seemed to droop as if drenched in a rainstorm. Grey shadows on his cheeks and chin were not just attributed to over a week’s growth of facial hair; they were also due to a sunken, malnourished appearance.

He stepped back, taking time to look at all the puncture wounds. Many of the bite-marks were scabbing over, surrounded with purple, blue and the sickly yellow-green of bruising. All were revolting, but the ones around his groin were particularly disturbing. Try as he did, he could not shake the fear that Luke had been the one to inflict them. His stomach curdled at the thought as his mind screamed out: ”What if he blew me, or worse?”

A small chuckle from the doorway startled him. He spun round, almost stumbling against the shower cubicle door.

Christine stood naked, watching him. “Here you are! I woke to find a space beside me and thought you had run away until I saw your clothes on the floor.”

Stunned to find out she had been sleeping next to him and he hadn’t even noticed, Riley was uncertain whether to be relieved or even warier. He was confused for sure; he’d had the distinct impression she had not taken to him when they’d met in the nightclub, yet here she was, posing in the doorway, accentuating her womanly attributes. A certain twitch betrayed he had taken notice. Inwardly, he groaned. Christine grinned.

Slowly, she moved towards him. “Do not worry,” she said, her tone undeniably prurient. “Those marks were made by me.” Her hand reached down, stroking him, inviting a response. “Don’t fight it, Riley. Once you’re like us, it may not work again.”

He stepped backwards, into the shower cubicle, his back hitting the tiled wall. ”What?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes. Some find it becomes a bit limp, shall we say. At least so I’ve heard, although Cole and Fergus strenuously deny it. They say they now perform better than they ever did.” She sidled in beside him, closed the glass door and flipped on the shower.

The water caused Riley to flinch, its temperature cool to begin with then gradually heating up. Christine reached around him and grabbed the gel. He watched, speechless, as she poured a generous dollop onto her hand. Replacing the bottle, she picked up a sponge and rubbed the palm of her hand over it until the lather formed. She applied it to his chest, moving the sponge in a circular motion while her other hand took care of lathering him further down.

He trembled as he tried to deny the effect she was having on him, but all to no avail. He was rigid in her hand. She cooed as she worked him some more.

From somewhere in the murk of his messed up mind, words gushed out. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t. Not at first,” she replied. Her hand gripped his erection a little tighter, then she dropped the sponge and allowed her other hand to cup his balls. She tugged them playfully. “Until I tasted you,” she purred.

Riley’s knees were starting to give out, and he grappled for the riser to steady himself. He moaned out loud as the femme fatale continued to rub up and down, the deep sensual twist motion she used, making him harder, he was starting to throb. His mind repeatedly screamed “No”, but his body refused to listen. He was in the throes now, his release imminent as Christine lowered herself to her knees.

“Jesus!” Riley gasped when he felt her mouth close over him. Her hands kept working, as her tongue flicked and teased while she sucked on him.

A need too urgent to ignore coursed through him. His free hand gripped the vampire’s hair, wrapping it around his fist. He pulled her to him and his hips thrust forward, sinking him deeper into her mouth. Even her fangs grazing his shaft was tantalising, he couldn’t get enough. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Breakfast is in the dining room, Christine!” a voice announced, sharp, authoritative.

The female spun around, her hair still wrapped around Riley’s fist. She winced.

Equally startled by the interruption, Riley unravelled her hair from his fingers, shifting both his hands down to cover his genitals.

Christine then pushed herself upright, switched the water off and opened the glass partition. With a small giggle, she turned to face the bathroom door.

Luke’s heated stare met them both. Wearing just jogging bottoms, he strode into the room, his eyes never leaving the couple within the steamed-up shower cubicle.

The female vampire stepped out, grabbed a towel then skittered past Luke. He watched as she left then his eyes quickly turned back to the cubicle.

Riley stood, steam from the shower still wafting around him, with hands attempting to award him some modesty. He wondered how long Luke had been watching them in the shower before he’d made his presence known. Added to that consideration he inwardly cursed himself - he was still hard, a fact which started to morph into panic as Luke’s lascivious gaze fell below his waist to his cupped privates. A grin stretched the leader’s mouth. “Need a hand?” he asked, his eyes shooting back up to Riley’s.

Caught like a rabbit in car headlights, all Riley could do was shake his head, his cheeks flushing furiously.

Luke guffawed and with a dismissive wave of his hand, he spun on his heel and headed back towards the bedroom. “Finish yourself off, then get dressed. I have a job for you.”

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