The Purchase (Mature Readers Only) Part 1

(11524 total words in this text)
(1225 Reads)  

This was originally posted on www.abductor.com/forum where people responded to each section as it was posted.

Disclaimer and etc.

I'm not sure how much I will continue this story, but it should be considered a short-story.

The main character is Melody which is a vampire from a book I've written called 'A Female Vampire'.

This is a seperate story entirely however.

If anything offends you, well then you prolly shouldn't be in this forum in the first place.

This story dedicated to my slave, and all other slaves on the planet. Also with dedication to my husband, who isn't my slave, but who continues to inspire me.

Melody stepped from her jet black limo, her reflection mirrored in the dark tinted windows, so dark it even protected her from the sun if need be. Her six inch spiked high heels clicked on the pavement as the doorman helped her from the curb. With her heels she was just a bit taller than him and it always brought a smile to her lips; being half a foot taller than she was normally, and that more equal to a man’s. Some even having to look up to her in order to meet her eyes. The doorman was different than any hotel or restaurant attendant in the fact that he wore dark clothing and wrap around sunglasses which were the only adornment to his fully bald shaved head.

“Welcome M’Lady.” he whispered in greeting. She smiled and nodded to him, impressed that he had remembered her from before. Most of the women arriving, if not wearing a collar around their necks, preferred to be addressed ‘ma’am’. She never did. She preferred something more lady like and regal. ‘M’Lady’ did fine.

Melody walked very naturally in her well-practiced heels moving through the heavy English oak doors and into the opening hall to the mansion’s estate. In truth the house wasn’t lived in other than the maid’s quarters in the back. The owner kept it only for a single purpose. For the slave auctions that were held twice a year. Two weeks before each auction the vast property was opened and maintenance crews came in to clear the overgrown greenery into more pleasant shapes and cutting back any growth around the paved single private road moving from the steel electrified gates at the entrance to the front steps of the mansion. A make shift parking lot was set to the side in the grass which grew back, despite the torture, every year.

Melody took a paper listing from a female slave adorned with a chrome shiny steel collar. Her blonde hair pulled back in a red ribbon and wearing a simple yet short white dress. Melody only glanced at her, knowing she was pleasing yet not why she was here. Melody didn’t always attend the functions, but luckily this one had been set in the early evening. Her limo trip had been in the daylight, but on arriving to the estate a good evening shadow cast over the arriving guests and she was able to enter the estate without fear of her vampyric blood boiling and her delicate white skin blistering and turning to dust.

She stepped into the main hall where rows of antique chairs lined the room, a small platform raised in the front. To the back was a door where slaves dressed in the same fashion as the girl handing out the paper listings darted back and forth to those already taking seats. The slaves brought little snacks, treats, and even drinks, extending the hospitality of the owner that all requests and needs were met. Melody watched as a man took a strawberry from a plate a slave girl served as she kneeled with the plate extended up to his reach. He smoothed some cream across the tip of the strawberry and leaned closer to the girl, touching it to her lips. She obediently opened her lips and bit a slice off of it. She blushed, her heart beating faster and echoing in the air. Melody sighed, feeling it call to her just as all of them did. She enjoyed the slight torture of it. She did not need to feed; she had made sure her hunger had been fully satisfied the night before. The girl glanced up at the man who smiled very amused. Melody had no doubt the request for the plate of strawberries and cream was for this very reason, and that he had not intended to eat a single one.

Melody moved across the room to the far door which opened to a new area where pedestals were raised in different heights and widths, each ending in a velvet-padded platform. Some were empty, yet on others were slaves. These were the reason she attended. The pedestals were situated as if they were sculptures set in a museum or show room. People walked around them, admiring. Sometimes touching, a pinch here, or a feel of the softness of a nude buttock there. Serving slaves sometimes entered here, offering glasses of wine or champagne, making sure all the guests’ needs were met. Some of the guests were accompanied by their own slaves, some on leashes and others simply adorned with expensive collars and shackles that jingled softly as they moved. The music of it filled the air very softly, as if it were a thousand wind chimes fluttering about the room in a gentle breeze.

A new slave was brought into the room, a simple leather leash attached to the collar of the young man who followed behind it obediently. The female handler led him to a rather narrow pedestal and helped him onto it with a nearby step. Once he was situated he kept his balance in a kneeling position and she unfastened the leash and walked away from him. Melody was always amused when the handlers did this, challenging a slave to keep graceful balance on a pedestal slightly smaller than one they needed. She thought if she were a handler she would probably do the same. A slave had never fallen, but it certainly kept their attention.

The auction still had time to begin and melody walked around the pedestals, stopping here and there to admire. A slave girl offered a glass of wine to her and Melody took it, sipping it and enjoying the taste of it on her red lips. It would not sustain her, but she enjoyed it none-the-less.

Melody had an edge to her sight that many of the others did not have, though the empathic ones did exist and found the best slaves being offered very quickly. One master brought his slave girl with him, her easily walking at his side as if she were a dog in a heel position, always at his side in perfect stride. She looked at the slave he stopped at to admire. She tilted her head and then whispered to her master. He made a frown and nodded, the slave on the pedestal making a frown and turning quite red. Melody wasn’t close enough to hear the words, but she felt them just as well as if they had been spoken directly to her. The slave on the pedestal was spoiled and arrogant. Not one that would get along well with others. Melody chuckled to herself, remembering the times when she had bought a slave just for that reason, and taught them a lesson which either killed them, or cured them of their condition.

This was, however, not what she wanted this time. Though it had been nearly every time she had attended that she looked for a special subject. One she needed, and wanted, yet for all these years had never found. It hadn’t mattered if it was male or female. That didn’t matter at all. It needed to not only be a true slave, one that could handle all she could dish out, but also cherish her for it in a way that they didn’t feel they deserved the pain – just needed it, and would worship her for giving it. To love her for what she was, and who she was. To accept all she would give, and be satisfied not wanting more. Many slaves claimed to be this, even the ones addicted to the pain given, yet they had all failed to meet her standards. She had bought several in the hope to molding them into what she had wanted. Melody frowned knowing she had either had to resell them later, burry them herself in some empty field in the wilderness, or the one unfortunate who had gone insane and was now safely locked up in a institution which she paid well every year.

Melody glanced around the room, viewing each soul, the thoughts, the fears, the adrenalin filling each slave’s veins to a varying degree. The breaths short and quick, or calm and relaxed. Each slave here because they wanted to be. Self sold slaves. Some owned by others and left as non-pleasing, or simply trained to be resold. All of them willing; all of them free to leave their lives of slavery at this point if they so chose it. The unwilling ones had already left. These were those who craved it, who needed it, who wanted to know nothing else but their slavery to another.

Melody sipped her drink a moment, her eyes drawn to a beautiful Asian female slave. The kind which the bids always went high concerning. She admired the shape of the breasts and Melody stepped closer, feeling the softness of the woman’s black hair between her fingertips. A slight movement in the side of her vision made Melody look to the pedestal to the side. A young man knelt on one knee submissively, wearing nothing but a leather collar with a silver ring in the middle. He had kept his ***** hard and perfectly viewable between his spread knees. His lowered close shaved head had stolen a glance of her, but returned as quickly to his downward view stance that it had almost been missed. Almost. She knew what he had seen. Her tight black leather corset forming her ivory breasts into luscious orbs and her waist into a perfect hourglass shape, her long skirt reaching the tops of her high heels, her ankles showing only when she walked as the fabric moved around her. Her dark burgundy hair curled around her head and the curls of the end running down one shoulder. Had he seen her eyes, the penetrating blue that took in his entire form? She tapped her blood red nails together, forming an idea.

Melody crossed the room in front of him to a slave girl who was serving wine. Melody whispered in the slave girl’s ear and the woman nodded. The slave girl set the platter of wine glasses on a free pedestal and took one glass from them. She walked to the pedestal with the young man on it and dipped her fingers into the wine, crossing the wine across his lips. His vision looked higher, seeing the collar upon her neck, and his gaze dared higher, looking into her eyes. His lips parted, taking the wine from his lips and snaking his tongue along the bottom of her fingers, sucking on the tops ever so gently with his lips as he caught her eyes in his. Melody was intrigued by his response, feeling his hunger. She slave girl turned and walked back to her serving platter to continue her duties, and he had watched her for a moment and then remembered to lower his eyes once again before a guest caught him. The hunger Melody could feel. His hunger. How close it was to her own. Different, yet the same.

A gong sounded from the auction room and the guests started moving towards their seats. The slaves, one by one, were taken by the emerging handlers into the back preparation room where their hair and make-up or whatever other grooming fixes were made before they would be taken to the auction stand. The electricity and the adrenalin shot up in the room when the slaves heard the gong. Some even trembled. Melody lingered for a moment enjoying the taste of the emotions in the air. She so loved the auctions, and they were always worth attending if only for the ‘atmosphere’.

Melody strode to the auction room and sketched on three small papers left on a writing pedestal in the back. She moved to a seat in the middle, using her vampire influence to keep only short people sitting in any seats in front of her. She wanted to be able to see everything.

The owner and host warmly greeted his visitors and only briefly stood on the raised platform to welcome everyone and explain the rules of the auction, which weren’t many. There were few newcomers, and those who were had already been explained everything several times in advance. A new master greeted Melody as he arrived late and sat down beside her. The owner waved to the finishing applause of the guests and took a seat to the side of the stage where he enjoyed a closer view yet still appeared part of the audience.

“I wish I had a good seat like that.” The master sitting beside Melody whispered, leaning over towards her ear. Melody giggled.

“Sure, just get a estate like this and you can have a good seat too.” She whispered back.

“Bah.” He remarked.

“Yes, I believe we are in the same boat my friend.” She whispered.

“Oh, its not that, I just enjoy being able to walk across my property in a matter of minutes and not hours.” She held back a louder laugh.

“Oh yes, me too.” She giggled nodding at the wonderful excuse.

The announcer and also auctioneer took his place at a writing pedestal where he set papers and switched on a small reading light. Music started from the hidden speakers placed around the room.

“I can’t help it, but sometimes I swear this is a fashion show and not a slave auction.” Melody leaned to the master beside her.

“I so love how they put this on.” The master nodded agreeing.

The announcer began as a slave was brought out onto the stage from a door hidden behind a parted fabric behind, as if it were all a catwalk. The female slaves lead by male handlers, and the males lead by females, unless the slaves were purely gay or lesbian and then they the lesbians were lead by female handlers and the gays lead by male handlers. The announcer cleared all confusion of course by announcing the sexual orientation of the slave, their hobbies, their skills, and their interests. Experience and past ownerships, if any, were also noted. The music covered any whispers from the guests and the slaves were allowed to look upon the faces that bid on them, though a spotlight shone on them which allowed them little view. The handler brought the first one, a young female on a leash, the muscular handler bringing her forward, turning her once, twice, and then raising her wrists in his hand above her head, making her stand on her toes for the moment. The guests whispered more, and some even letting little laughs echo as the girl made a face as she tried to honor the handler’s request. The bidding was over quickly, as they had many slaves to show. The slave girl was taken again into the back where she would be prepared for her owner to pick up. Sometimes purchasers had special instructions on how the slaves were to be when they came to pick them up. Some simply on leashes, others encased in intricate bondage, and others caged and boxed for special shipment. Each request seemingly routine to the staff.

Males and females were taken out in turn, yet when there was more of one than the other two of one kind would be taken in a row instead of taking turns. Several turns came out and a pre-op transsexual was next. Melody had not seen him on the pedestals, and perhaps had only looked over his feminine form and not inspected further to his large erect *****. The bids grew higher as it always was with kinds like him. He gave a beautiful blush as the price spiked upward and was finally sold for a considerable amount.

The auction was near its middle when the Asian girl was brought out. The male handler circled her as he had with others and held her up on her wrists and the slave girl instinctively pressed out her breasts to give the guests a better view. She knew what she was and loved it. The bidding threw lightning charges back and forth as the bids could not be made fast enough. They only slowed down when the bids grew considerably higher.

“Four hundred thousand.” The announcer said pointing to a man closer to the front. “Four-fifty.” He motioned to another on the other side. Melody glanced to the master beside her. He noticed and bent towards her.

“Beautiful, but expensive.” He whispered.“And how much could you afford?” she asked.

“Three hundred at best. I have a feeling I won’t find anything this time around in my price range.”

“Yes, the grouping has been very excellent this time, and I know your pickiness my friend.” She winked to him. They had only spoken briefly before, yet she had read his soul perfectly the first time their eyes had met. There were no secrets. The bidding continued.

“Five Eighty” the announcer said, the bidding dying. “Going once…”

“Six Hundred.” Melody raised her finger, not even really looking at the girl but at her listing she held in her hand. The announcer acknowledged and several guests turned to look who had bid, but Melody simply turned a page on the slave listing and ignored them.“Six Hundred thousand going once,” the auctioneer replied going through his routine. The price was at least twice what normal top trained slaves went for, but with such rich guests the prices were not unheard of to go over normal. “Sold!” he ended, the girl being taken in the back.

“Wow.” The master beside her leaned over. “Can I borrow her?” he joked. She glanced at him and smiled giving him a wink.

She watched as the young man was lead out by a female handler, the one she had had the slave girl brush wine across his lips. Melody moved her head to the side watching him. The man following the commands of the handler, but his eyes kept moving across the crowd. His eyes wandered from woman to woman, even those who wore collars. The announcer said his name was Steven, but the details fell on Melody’s deaf ears as she felt his emotions drift from him like a flower’s scent. The bidding started. He was young and bid on by both women and men, but the bids were kept lower than the expensive Asian she had already purchased. A man in the front raised a bidding card and the announcer acknowledged it. A woman on the other side outbid it and a woman behind Melody’s seat raised a card to bid over, and the announcer pointed and nodded raising the bid once again. The woman being outbid looked annoyed and bid once again which the woman with the card outbid again. The bids slowed until the bidding was left between the woman with the card and an older man in the back. Steven watched the bidders, his eyes settling on Melody for an instant and then to the bidders. He seemed confused, lost, his breath quickening as all of them always did, but Melody alone savored it so sweetly.

“Two hundred.” The old man replied.

“Two hundred thousand.” The announcer pointed to the man in the back. The man in the front with the card looked back at Melody, the woman with the card glancing as well but sticking to the limit set on her card. They had been hired to bid for others. Melody nodded to the man in the front who raised his card.“Two fifty!” he said. The old man seemed to decide not to challenge it and Steven was sold.

“I thought you liked him.” The master leaned over to Melody again.“I never said I didn’t.” she smiled back at him.

The last few slaves received more bidding wars as they would be the last, and their prices peeked a bit more than they would have if they had been offered at the beginning, but that was always the way it happened.

The auction ended with the gong being hit once again and the owner extending his goodbyes and thank you’s for coming to everyone. Some lingered to talk together in their chairs but others went to the pedestal room where the pedestals had been removed and the room prepared for the slaves to be picked up by their purchasers. Melody headed towards the room and the master noticed her.

“Is she the only one you bought?” he asked. She smiled.

“You may come along if you wish.” He nodded wanting at least a second glance at the Asian and followed her into the room where she stopped when a handler came to her with a book. Melody took the book and wrote into it with a pen attached. “The girl goes to him.” She motioned to the master beside her, his jaw dropping. He started to stammer but Melody just looked up to the handler.

“Of course.” The handler acknowledged.

“And have the other blindfolded and taken to my car.” Melody instructed.

“As you wish.” The handler replied taking the book and moving towards the Asian girl Melody had purchased, attaching a leash and bringing her towards the master.

“That’s a lot of money.” He finally got out. She turned towards him and smiled.

“I know you’ll take good care of her. Call her a present.” He made a face. “Well if it bothers you you can always pay me half. You did say three hundred was your limit, correct?”

“Oh! Yes, yes.” He nodded and fumbled for his checkbook quickly writing out a check for her. She took it between her fingers and smiled.

“Nice doing business with you my friend.” She chuckled knowing his ears were now deaf as the Asian was brought over to him and he looked down her nude body. Melody stepped away as he took the leash to the girl’s collar, leaving him with his gift that she had no doubt he would thank her more fully at another time for.

Melody walked down the hall and toward her car, giving it time to receive the extra passenger. She smiled to the owner of the estate as he caught her eye and gave her a wave as she departed.

She watched the guests leave before her, trailing their new playthings behind them, and others receiving their purchases in containers to the side. Melody stepped outside of the great oak doors and looked up into the night sky, the sliver of the moon lightening the sky amongst the stars. Stars that existed more fully in the country sky like this, than those of the city.

Her limo driver helped the blindfolded purchase into her car and she walked to it, not waiting for the driver to move the car to her. Her heels made no sound on the grass, but she had to walk on the front of her foot, shifting her weight so that the heels would not sink into the soft ground. She remembered Steven’s thoughts when his auction was over, the male attendant bidding on him. She loved keeping them guessing and had hired not only the man to bid on him but the woman with the card as well.Melody stepped into the back of the limo and smoothed down her skirt, the limo driver closing the door for her and taking his place in the driver’s seat to take them home. Steven let out a trembling breath trying to relax. His eyes were blindfolded with a black silk satin blindfold and his wrists bound together with the same material. He could smell her perfume and in a way he was glad it was an obvious female sitting beside him instead of the male who had bid, yet what was to happen, he did not know.

Comments:

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slut-QV
Well I do indeed have QueenVamp's book, so any story about Melody is bound (no pun intended) to be of interest.

As always M'Lady... you've excelled.

I just want to know what happens to Steven. Not sure if he does though.
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crimson
very, very well-written, QueenVamp.. i love the way Melody has that air of confidence.. it is a quiet, yet bold sense of superiority... the best kind of Domme... has that confidence and talents.. but doesnt boast them or show off..

i can;'t wait to see more of this... and i hope You will follow both directions for a bit, as i cam anxious to know how the Master and His new girl are doing as well!

more more more!!
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Katt
I wasn't really planning on telling more about the master and his new asian slave. Sorry to disappoint, but there are more serious lines of following for now.
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crimson
i'm too humble to complain about that, M'Lady... i'll be grateful for anything You add to this story!!!

more more more!!!
....

Just a bit more til I have more time.
________

Melody moved to the seat opposite Steven, the black divider fully in place between their part of the cabin and the driver. Air sealed and nearly sound proof, however the driver knew perfectly well never to comment on what little he heard. Melody crossed her legs and watched him, shifting his nude form on the leather seats beneath him making that ever so present squeaking sound that leather seats are so famous for making. He licked his lips and opened them to speak, but didn’t and pressed them together. If he had been fully trained she did not know, she could easily read his mind if she wished, but decided against it, relishing the newness of him. Movements she was sure would become everyday items in time. For now he was new, and she was his ‘new car smell’. She laughed almost loudly at the thought, knowing that’s all he knew of her as of yet, her smell. He seemed to redden at her laugh, and to attempt to speak again…stopping himself once more.

“You want to say something?” she purred, enjoying his struggling. He wasn’t sure he could answer and he tried to nod while the car crossed some bumps. He wasn’t sure if she noticed the nod so he decided to risk speaking.

“Yes ma’am.” His voice was music when she first heard it. Like a puppy barking for the very first time of its life; trying out its voice with a single yelp. Melody frowned.

“Never call me ma’am. Call me M’Lady, and that only unless I say otherwise.” She instructed.

“Yes M’Lady.” He replied perfectly, seemingly to relax more from the instructions. Perhaps he was just as she hoped.

“And what is it you wish to say, slave?” He swallowed, his mind raced, not sure what to say now. He had wanted to challenge her laugh, wanted to know why she bought him, or if she was simply a messenger to deliver him to the man who had bid. His confusion continued. “Speak slave.” She said softly, knowing he didn’t need it to be a full command.

“I would like to know if you are my new owner.” He blurted out; hoping the worst of his fears would be addressed. Although he was bi-curious he was not ready for a male master, or at least he thought so. His chest raised and fell with heavy nervous breaths as she paused to take in his emotions tainting the air. She had almost forgotten his question. “M’Lady?”

“Yes, I am she.” He seemed to breath a sigh of relief and nodded once nervously. “You have other questions?” She liked the sound of his trembling voice and moved across the cabin again to sit next to him, pulling her legs under her and leaning close so that he could feel her breath upon his bare skin. His mind searched, afraid he wouldn’t be allowed to ask any other time he thought of everything, anything he would possibly want to know. Finally deciding most would be rude for a first discussion with his new owner. He wasn’t sure how to answer, with a question, or to wait until they knew each other better. She touched him for the very first time, running a blood red fingernail down his chest, ending at his stomach where she brushed her fingertip across the muscles there admiring them. His mind went blank. She chuckled again watching his skin move under her touch.

“May I see you.” He whispered softly. She hadn’t expected the question right away. A nice blindfolded ride is often expected, wasn’t it?

“Do you think maybe I am a ugly witch, and you want to know if you’ll be enslaved to this witch who will abuse you and make you do unspeakable things to pleasure her and perhaps her ugly friends?” She drew closer to him with each word she spoke until her lips brushed ever so slightly against the skin of his cheek.

“No M’Lady.” He answered without skipping a beat.

“Just for that you shall not look upon me until I decide you shall.” He pressed his lips together. She hadn’t planned on punishing him for anything so quickly, but it gave a good excuse to keep the blindfold on for longer. Maybe even longer than she had first intended.

“Yes M’Lady.” He answered, accepting her order. “Will I always be able to ask questions, M’Lady?”

“If you ask permission, and I grant it, then yes.” He nodded in response.

The car stopped and Melody exited on her own, the driver opening Steven’s door and helping him out by his arm, the cool night air caressing his nude skin. The driver opened the door to the building they had parked next to and moved Steven inside. Melody joined Steven and thanked the driver, sending him home for the night. Melody reached down to Steven’s ***** and fastened a ***** leash to it, the leather wrapping around the base of his ***** and with a few feet as length ended in a loop for her hand. He moved forward after her with little tugs from the leash directing him. He bumped into her slightly when she stopped and activated a private elevator. He could hear her move to open the sliding shield, the elevator stopping and the doors open. She led him in with a little pull to the leash and he stopped just behind her as she closed the shield and pressed a button. The elevator jerked and started going down. Three levels passed and the elevator stopped with the bell ringing louder than it had with each level passing. She turned her keys in a lock on the shield and opened them. He walked out after her, listening to the click of her heels on the cement and not needing a pull from the leash. He was learning. She turned around and relocked the lock on the shield. She pulled the leash even though he was following already and his step grew closer to her. He could smell her perfume stronger now, being so close to her.

Comments:
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foal
i really enjoyed The Female Vampire... (i should now.... right?) i Love Your writing style and look forward to even more....
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Fushichou
I really do enjoy this story so far...will steven be made a blood doll I wonder?
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Lobo
I wonder if there’s a money back policy.
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Kira
Oh my word QueenVamp, I know you said you were writing a little something for the forum....but this is sensational, brilliant, astounding *gets out the thesaurus*
Anyway please don't keep us slavering for more for too long....we readers need feeding too!
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Katt
arg Lobo! BE NICE!!!

(grumbles)
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Katt
Thanks Kira, if you think my work is too good, I'm sure I could start posting without spell check so I'd fit more 'in'. (lol) KIDDING!!! KIDDING!!! (laugh)
....

Warning, brutality in this part.

________

She lead him into a cooler hallway, the air starting to raise goose bumps across his skin despite his nervous excitement. He could hear her key turn in another lock and a door open. Warmth radiated through, the air smelling fresher as he inhaled the scent as she lead him inside. He felt a layer of carpet under his feet spanning from the door and into the room where she finally stopped him.

“Kneel.” She said, and he obeyed immediately enjoying the warmness of the room and playing every possible fantasy in his mind that might come true. His knees sunk into the soft carpet and Melody circled him. She almost touched his hair, admiring him, but took back her fingers and held them to her crimson lips. She would have to be careful how she used him at first, if he was to turn out how she wanted. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked. His lips pressed together again, and she wondered what answer he was fighting with this time. “A bit of water?” He finally nodded.

“Yes M’Lady.” He stammered forgetting to say it right away. She smiled and went to the kitchen of her basement apartment. It wasn’t her only abode, but one of many. One that was perfect for a new slave’s arrival and training. In truth she owned the entire building, but rented out the upper floors to be used as storage for an antique dealer’s furniture deliveries. The three levels underground were her private places, most sitting empty. With the earth as insulation she had never been disturbed by either the sun or visitors, and she didn’t have fear that anyone would hear anything out of the ordinary down there. All gates were locked, and often abandoned for months, or once even a stretch of two years.

Melody took bottled water from her fridge and poured a cup of it into a glass, bringing it to her kneeling slave and touching the edge to his lips. He opened his mouth willingly and as she tilted the glass he drank. When he was finished she set the glass on the side table of her couch.

“Warm yet?”

”Yes M’Lady.” He whispered, not entirely rid of his goose bumps but feeling much better.

“Good.” She took the ***** leash into her hand and gave it a little tug. That was all he needed to raise quickly and gain his balance. She led him across the apartment to a door, which she opened, with another key. He thought that strange since he had thought this was her living area. The carpet turned to concrete but not as cold as before and he climbed the concrete steps to the next floor. Melody closed the second door behind them at the top of the stairs. He felt carpet again, but it was hard, as if a mat of some kind.

Melody both loved and hated this room. The room had been sealed off from the rest of the floor, just in case someone had started wandering in places they shouldn’t be. The only entrance was from the floor below where she lived. Melody looked to the heavy rings anchored in the wall before them and the memories came to her like ghosts. All those she had tied here. It was a good thing he was blindfolded, for some of the blood never cleaned up. She remembered the insane one, breaking his own wrists trying to free himself from the rings. She hated it here. She hated what she had done and had to do. She glanced around the room. The table full of her instruments laid out perfectly just as she had prepared it the night before, hoping…always hoping, she would finally find the one. She glanced at the box underneath the table, so many more instruments stored there, and on the wall behind her where the door locked closed automatically. She had the key, though it wouldn’t matter if she didn’t. Melody looked over Steven, his feet shifted on the mat. She gave the leash a quick pull and he gasped stepping forward as she lead him to the bondage rings. She took a leather cuff from the floor and wrapped it around one of his wrists, and then the same with the other with a second cuff. She took a dagger from the table and cut through the satin cloth binding his wrists. He did not move but allowed her to attach each cuff to each ring above and to the side of him. She bent over and secured his ankles in similar cuffs and attached them to chains on the lower rings. He could move his legs apart and closer to the wall, but no further. She couldn’t imagine him not expecting this, to be tied and used right away. Isn’t that what all slaves thought about when they are sold?

His breath slowed, relaxing his body for what he wasn’t sure would come, but would happen whether he was ready or not. He intended to be ready. She walked around him in a semi-circle, admiring his clear unmarked skin. She traced her fingernails up the lines of his body, and he twisted and squirmed in reaction to them. Sometimes pressing nearer, and other times pulling away. She looked down his chest, how it rose and fell from his breaths. She noticed the leash dangling between his legs, remembering she had forgotten it. She attached it to a thin leather line which locked on a centered ring in the wall. When he moved back the leash pulled and tightened around the base of his ***** perfectly. She smiled, running her fingernails up the soft flesh of his balls and across the shaft, letting them dig in a bit deeper. He tried to move back as he held his lips together, muffling his moan, but the leash wouldn’t let him go. She circled to the back of him.

“I want you to give yourself to me. Totally, without reserve. You must not resist me, or you will regret it. That will only make things more difficult for you.” She tried not to remember the ghost image of her memories, how many had failed, how their blood spilled for nothing. All of them failing. He didn’t answer; he wasn’t sure how to answer, or how much he could give. His mind raced through his own memories. He had always been the dominant one in life, the aggressive one. No matter what the situation, he had always found a way to turn it under his control. He always left for that reason as well. It wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t what he needed.

Melody walked to the wall behind them and took a wooden cane from the wall. She touched the wood with her fingertips and bent the end slightly to test the flexibility. Perhaps another time she would be merciful and start slowly, building the pressure until he could take harder strikes, but that would be another time. Now, it was time to bleed.

He heard the sound of it before the sting. The whoosh of the air as it swung and struck the back of his thigh with a crack. The pain rushing to him like a hot poker. He pulled his leg up in a reflex the muscle spasming in the heat of the strike. A second strike flew through the air and struck his other thigh, the pain making him fall in his bonds, the rings keeping him in the air. He grunted hard and gasped for air. She admired the reddening marks, but knew she couldn’t stop yet. It must be faster, it must be complete.

The cane struck his back along the shoulder on the left side, and then the right, with perfect lines pointing to his spine. He arched and his arms flexed holding onto the rings connected to his cuffs. She was impressed he hadn’t screamed yet, but it wouldn’t take much she thought. The cane struck his ass six times repeatedly, each from a different direction. It hadn’t taken much of her vampyric movements to keep the speed, but it certainly helped. Eight strikes to each calf brought him down again and just as the cuffs caught his weight the cane struck his stomach and chest in twenty more strikes. He hardly had time to flex his stomach to protect his organs from the assault. The cane continued like a torturing insect, buzzing from the front and back, the strikes uncountable except to maybe her who moved around him with lightning speed, leaving him jerking in his bonds so feverishly the leash on his ***** tightened and rubbed his shaft red near the base where little droplets of blood began to emerge. The whirlwind continued, striking him in every muscle, every fatty tissue, and every inch of skin. He shook his head and grinded his teeth, standing, flexing, not able to do otherwise in the unnatural battering. He finally screamed loud, it being more a growl and a roar than one of pain. He was fighting her, more than anyone had ever dared. It was time for something else.

She let him drop in his bonds as she stopped so suddenly. The pain swelling around his body, each nerve threatening to explode. He shook his head, whimpering, gasping for air. She set the cane on the table, blood staining the white wood. She hadn’t cut him much, but the continued strikes had gathered the tiny drops. Her breath was heavy as well and she wiped a drop of blood sweat from her forehead. She took the dagger again in her hand and stepped towards him. She touched the tip to his cheek, letting him feel the sharpness of it, and then trailed it down his skin until she reached his back, where she let the steel slice into his skin in a long strip down his back ending just above his ass. He cursed under his breath trying to pull away from the knife. Images raced in his mind but he only came to one conclusion. He had been one of the unlucky ones, bought by a man hater who would beat him and destroy him until he bled to death. His body would probably never be found, and no one would ever know. After all, hadn’t he left it that way? No one to look for him, no one to wonder where he was. He struggled and tried to kick at her, the chains holding his feet. They had no safe word, no signal to stop. This wasn’t some amateur slave auction, this was serious stuff, and he’d been bought. Bought to be butchered! He felt the blood run down his ass and drip onto the back of his foot. He felt the light-headedness coming, but he fought against it. Melody struck with the knife again to the other shoulder, sealing the wound with her own blood flowing from her wrist just as quick as she had cut it. Her own blood mixing with his as it ran down his body.

“You’re killing me!” he struggled and grunted at her through clenched teeth as she dug the knife in again, the skin tearing to make way for the metal. He shivered, and she smiled letting him think he might bleed to death at her hands and not knowing he was being healed as fast as he was being cut.

“You are mine, your life is mine, you must give yourself to me.” She hissed in his ear and then ran the knife down each of his legs, the blood mixing and pooling around his heels.

“No!” he growled tossing his head back and forth. He didn’t want to die, not for her, not for anyone. She frowned knowing this would take longer than she had hoped. If only he could understand. She cut his arms and let the blood drip down his shoulders and sides and his head started hanging in front of him. He still flinched at the pain of the knife across his chest but he had lost part of his consciousness. She put the knife down on the table again, licking at her wrist and watching as her wound closed as quickly as his had. She always loved watching the vampyric magic.

Melody loosened her corset to become more comfortable and allow her breathing more room to take in heavier breaths. She opened the box under the table and took out her favorite harness, removing her skirt so that she was only in her thigh high stockings, garter belt, and what existed of a thong. She stepped into the harness and pulled the straps tightening it around her pelvis, and leaned over to take two toys out. One was a smaller dildo, about the same as Steven’s own *****, the other at least twice the width and several inches longer. She attached the smaller to her harness and smeared a glop of lube over the head of it. She walked over to the half fainted Steven and pressed her heels into the mat to keep a good balance. She pressed the end of the false ***** against his ass and pulled him towards her by his hips until the end finally slipped in. She slowly worked it until it was all the way inside him. She moved it slowly in and out, slowly building up the rhythm. He started coming to and moaned softly, her hands pressing against his tender abused flesh.

“Why can’t you give yourself to me Steven?” it being the first time she had used his name. One she had intended on changing anyway. She pulled his head back towards her by his hair and his eyes went wide as she pushed fully into him. He was not dead, not yet. She fucked his ass harder, slamming into him, owning every bit of the inside of him. He shivered. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed it though he moaned and his dick twitched giving little drops of pre-*****. Her movements increased taking him harder and harder until he could press forward no further and his face touched the cold cement of the wall the rings were anchored in. Her thrusts pushing him up onto his toes, his body so weak from the pain he had suffered he could hardly hold himself up. She pounded so quickly, so completely, he felt as if she would rip through to his stomach on the other side.

She stopped so suddenly and pulled out completely that he was left off balance and only caught himself with one hand curled around a ring. He was spent, but he had not given in. Melody frowned and released the strap holding the ***** in place, letting it fall but catching it just before it hit the ground. She set it on a cloth on top of the table and folded the cloth over, just the tip of the ***** visible. She attached the larger ***** and covered it with lube just as she had with the other. She stroked it as if enjoying how it felt against her, as if it would get harder just from how she moved her fingers around the shaft.

Melody pressed the tip to his hole and pressed into him, the tip not alerting him of its size until it was a good three inches in. Then it was harder to get it, and she had to give a few pushes to get it further, grabbing his hips and impaling him on her monstrous *****. He was sure he would split from the size, but somehow his skin stretched just enough around it. She slammed it back and forth more viciously now and he shook his head, both in pain and in pleasure. It was too much, and there was no way to stop her. He was sure he was bleeding inside, he was sure the blood that had dried on his body was leaving him with nothing left. He squirmed trying to rid him of this ramming *****, which turned in him wherever he tried to turn. His bonds were solid, she had him, and she raped his ass until her own breathing was heavy and ragged. She pressed against him, leaving drops of her blood sweat on his back. She pulled the ***** from his ass and it seemed to gape closed slowly. She picked up the cane again and struck his ass, he flexed forward and up on his toes, as if he could avoid the strike that had already landed. She struck again and again, refreshing every previous strike’s pain and doubling it. When she finally stopped he fell in his bonds whimpering. He was crying. She had finally drawn tears.

He wasn’t her’s yet. Not how she wanted yet. That would take time. For now, they both needed rest. She unfastened his cuffs from the rings with a turn of the locks and locked his limp hands together. She unfastened one foot and allowed him to turn and collapse on the mat under him. He curled there in a fetal position and she left him there.

“You will be mine, totally.” She whispered to him, knowing he could hear her. “Or you will be nothing at all.” She turned off the light, knowing the length of chain on his ankle would not allow him to reach the light switch or table to any of her instruments. She took a final look at him and sighed, hoping she was right about him. She was tired of being wrong. She closed the door letting it lock behind her, pocketing the key.

Comments:
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slut-QV
I'm biased anyways, but I like Melody... I think the key question is this...

Does even Melody know what she wants? I mean, she has been through slave after slave.

Maybe she is the one with a problem, and not the slaves.

Of course, I could just be playing devil's advocate.

More please M'Lady.. I want to see where this goes.
....
Katt
Bleh. You have no trust!
....
slut-QV
no M'Lady.. I trust you...

But I think even *I* might have trouble dealing with one like Melody.

Might be fun thou

(except for *The* Biker Scene!)
....
McBubba
Steven, not being a true masochist, may not understand what Melody is truly asking for. Can Melody articulate her needs?
....
Sofronia
Brava! Engrossing, compelling. You have my complete attention.
....

Steven woke, not sure how long it had been. Hours, days, a week? The darkness was his world and the brief moments of sleep or unconsciousness were his true bouts of rest and peace. The nerves of his body no longer pulsed sharply but dully, almost numb when she stretched him up and fastened him to the rings again to beat him. He couldn’t resist now; he couldn’t fight anymore. He simply took it. It wasn’t always the barrage of beatings; sometimes she would wake him by shoving a fake ***** down his throat ordering simply ‘suck’. This was not one of those instances though. He woke up alone. That was the worst of it, being alone, suffering and healing and no one else to be there. Just lying there on a mat, his ankle fastened to the ring in the wall. He had tried to jerk it free and his ankle covered in cloth burns from the cuff. He had tried to chew at it and pick it with his fingernails but the pain of the beatings left him sore and inflexible, when the pain rushed back he stopped. The ankle itched, healing. He heard the lower door open and his eyes grew wider. The familiar click of her heels on the stairs. Did she always wear them, or just to alert him of her presence. He had already thought of what must be obvious. Perhaps she wasn’t the man-hater he had thought at first, but there was a much more horrifying realization. That she was breaking him. He had heard of the term before, but knew few slaves that requested it, or for that matter even experienced willingly. They were never the same after. Why did he hate being alone when he hated her? Why did he miss her? Did he hate her?

Melody turned the key in the door at the top of the stairs and opened the door. He was already awake and tried to look up at her, the darkness surrounding them. The blindfold long ago ripped away, yet he had not yet seen her. He didn’t move more than that, trying to follow her position by sound, following it with his eyes. She set down a bowl of cream mixed with her own blood and sat down on the mat beside him, curling her legs under her. She took the bowl into her hand and with the fingers of her other hand she smeared the cream over his wounds. Her blood would not seep into his skin to heal the bruised muscles or twitching nerves, but it would clear any scars that may develop. Steven’s skin tingled and it felt so cold he couldn’t help but shiver. Sometimes she had brought food to him this way, feeding him gently with her fingers. At first he had refused to eat, but after two days he couldn’t stand the additional pain of hunger. His lips had touched her fingers just as they had the slave girl who had given him the drops of wine at the auction house. Oh how that felt so long ago now. Melody stroked his hair back from his forehead. He was nearly there. He was making it. He was moving down the path she wanted, but how soon? How soon could she bring him into the light again? Finishing with her work with the cream she started to get up to leave.

“Please.” He whispered. She stopped and looked down at him. He moved his hand a little towards her and then stopped. “Please don’t leave me.” He was surprised at his own words, but they were the truth. He hated the cold darkness and being alone, without her, more than any pain she had given him. Melody smiled a smile he could not see, and moved closer, guiding his head to her lap. He was only able to rest it on her thigh, the soft fresh material of her dress feeling velvet against his cheek. Warm, she was warm against him. She smoothed his hair back, tracing her fingers through it affectionately. It was the first time she had dared to show such kindness to him. Her heart had ached so badly to do it. How she had wiped away her own blood tears when she was alone, wanting the torture to end. Was that even possible, for her to have these feelings? The sadistic side of her enjoying every stroke she gave him. No, she had found peace with it. Both sides were equal and she had found her middle. He was learning, and he was becoming her’s.

“I understand now.” He whispered again, licking his lips and trying his voice. One he had not used other than to curse her, growl, and scream in the last days.

“What do you understand?” she admired the curves of his skin, and traced her fingertip down his jaw.

“To be yours. To be completely yours, is to give you all that I am.” He was finally getting it, if only it had been so easy at the beginning. He dared his hand forward and brushed his fingers across the cloth of her dress, just stroking it, it feeling so comforting compared to the rough fabric of the mat. “Explaining it wouldn’t have been enough, I know that now. It has to be explained in another way.” His voice trembled with the last sentence, it truly occurring to him why it all had happened. She continued to stroke his hair gently and he began to cry. It wasn’t tears of hate or pain like they had been before. No, it was the silent tears of release. She let the emotions swim around her, breathing them in like a flower before her nose. She let him fall asleep there, his tears drying on the skirt of the short dress. It was time, time to bring him into the light. Just as a new birth can be painful, so had his. It was time to open his eyes to his new world.

Comments:
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slut-QV
Bravo!

More!

(Can I check myself into a slave auction anywhere near Germany?!)

I still think Melody is going to come unstuck at somepoint. Well, maybe.

You can't go away for a few days M'Lady, I need more!
....

Steven awoke in heaven. The soft light of it surrounding him, the pillowy clouds supporting his weight as he floated. He wasn’t sure how he deserved it, he hadn’t been all that good in life, but after the last few days nothing made sense anyway. He drifted, part in sleep and part awake; the soft warmth surrounding him. Melody walked into the bedroom and looked down at her slave wrapped in her warm feather comforter. He smiled softly in his sleep. She sat down on the feather mattress and strokes a few strands of hair to the side. It was growing longer, like she liked it. Like everything, it just took time. Steven opened his eyes again the fuzzy white light getting brighter as he did. A figure moved in his sight. He couldn’t make it out right away, but he knew it was an angel. He blinked, squinting his eyes which had been light deprived for so long. The figure took more shape, that of a woman. The colors mixed together, but he could see the dark red of her hair and her red lips and she bent towards him, touching his skin with warm fingers. Her voice is what brought him back to reality.

“Did you sleep well?” she purred softly. Steven almost choked, the real world hitting him hard. It was her voice. The voice that had murdered him a hundred times as he hung in that room. The room of hell, but this wasn’t that room. He tried to see the details of her face, daring to look at her, being in shock and wanting to realize what he thought was true indeed was just that. The light was too bright and the colors simply swirled together. He laid his head back on the pillow, how soft it felt, making him feel as if he were floating all over again. He tried to move his mouth to speak, but the words just didn’t come. “Rest, you may sleep as long as you need to.” She stroked his hair once more and then left him, closing the sliding Japanese paneled door behind her.

When Steven woke again he was able to see more clearly. There were no clocks in the room and he looked around. The room was set in a Japanese style, many of the decorations being shipped directly from Japan. He pushed back the covers and got out of bed, having to stand for a moment to let the dizziness pass. He moved the paneled door to the side, enjoying the feel of the white rug beneath his bare feet. She was sitting in the living room in a red velvet antique chair. She was watching television; the news was on talking about some biker gang involved in a murder spree in the local area.

“Crawl.” She said simply. He got on all fours, the wonderful carpet letting his fingers sink in between the fibers. He crawled to her side and kissed her bare foot tenderly. He kept his gaze down at her feet and she touched him gently, her fingertips running down his neck and shoulders. He shivered at her touch, how it was so different than before. One of her nails ran down his back and he straightened hissing softly between his teeth. It wasn’t real pain, but a reminder. He leaned his head on her thigh and she played with his hair as she watched the news. He glanced up, watching a bit himself. Her gaze shifted watching him, how he breathed, how he knelt beside her, how his blood traveled through every vein in his body automatically. The beat of his heart a solid drum driving it all. He felt her move and he lifted his head, feeling her slide behind him, pushing the chair back. Her body against him, the warmth enveloping him once again, he felt weak, and rested his head on her arm wrapping around him as she pressed her head to his neck and gently slipped her fangs in. He was floating again as she drank from him. Just a little drink, how she had craved his blood that called to her for so long. She licked the wounds as they closed quickly behind her fangs, the little marks would disappear as fast as his others, and less noticeable as well. He sighed softly and she held him, treasuring him all the more.

The fact that she was a vampire didn’t really seem to faze him, but only made more sense. It wasn’t really what she was, but part of her. She was so much more. She rose from behind him and took his hand.

“Come.” She didn’t really need to order him; he was already following her to her bedroom. She removed her strap on from a drawer and stepped into it. He turned his eyes away blushing slightly. It had been the first time he had seen it fully. This instrument she seemed to take so much pleasure in. She didn’t even need to put him in position. With a simple touch of her hand on his lower back he bent over on the bed, bracing his hands in front of him. “No, not like that.” She smiled and moved him onto his back. He looked away nervously, not sure what she was doing and not daring to look at her straight on. She spread his legs and lifted his ass a little as she slid the pre-lubed ***** into his tight ass. He tightened for a moment and then relaxed, feeling the head of it enter and pass his ring of muscle that flexed and throbbed against the rubber. She leaned over him, ***** him like some girl, his gasps and moans escaping into the air, just the way she liked it. No pillows or sheets to muffle them. She pumped solidly into him, slowly at first and then building to a higher rhythm, his body moving with each thrust she gave. His eyes closed as he felt his hard ***** press against the fabric of her red dress as she moved. It felt irritating yet glorious. His hands flexed as the tremors filled him, the pleasure too immense. He whimpered when she stopped moving but simply held firm deep into his ass, the false balls pressed against his skin.

“I want more of you.” She whispered. He wasn’t sure what she meant but she was already locking her legs around him and rolling them over together, the ***** staying firmly in his ass. He sat up sitting on her ***** as she laid on her back on the bed. Her hands were on his hips and she was moving underneath him making the false ***** move up and down in his ass. He moaned again and started moving with her rhythm, the pleasure of it making him float again. He could feel it all the way through is own ***** and balls. He couldn’t remember ever being harder and wanting release yet enjoying the torment of not cuming. His rhythm grew faster and she helped slam him down on her *****, bouncing on the false balls. She could feel him tighten the way his ass tried to pull the ***** up with it. He leaned back, not able to think of anything but the complete feeling of being fully full and impaled on her *****. She touched his face with a raised hand, how angelic he looked. An angel in distress, being fucked in the ass and liking it.

“Look at me.” She whispered and he slowly opened his eyes, still moving on her false *****, his eyes moving from her stomach, curved ribs under the dress to her bouncing breasts which moved with every stroke he took. Then her mouth, the blood red lipstick she wore, and to her eyes which spilled cool blue into an ocean of black irises. She was a goddess, and he was her whore.

Comments:

....
Kira
OMG....this is incredible QueenVamp. Such brutality to start with, then the soft embrace leading to more and more and hopefully more of this wonderful tale.....meanwhile your slut is sitting back praying for you to do the same to him. Wishing on a star is one thing....wishing on a vampire is something else.....be warned.
Great work!
....
Sofronia
Exquisite, QV. '....and he ws her whore.'
You had me rietted the whole way.
Brava!
....

Her eyes had flashed red for a moment. He wasn’t sure, looking back into the cool blue eyes that looked over his sweaty body. He had finally collapsed, not able to take more, or give more. He was spent, and hadn’t even *****. Melody slipped off the rubber strap-on and walked to her closet, opened it and began lacing up thigh high PVC boots around her legs.

“Get dressed.” She didn’t even look at him when she said it. “You’ll find clothes over there.” She waved her hand and Steven looked to the bedside table where men’s clothing had been set out. Leather pants, leather boots that went up past the ankle to the shin, a white long sleeved shirt that opened in the front to expose the chest. He quickly dressed, not wanting to anger her by taking his time.

He followed her out of the apartment into the cold concrete hallway. They took the elevator up one level and he shivered remembering the torture room was on the same level. The rooms were empty except for a covered motorcycle near the door. She pulled off the cover and tossed it to the side, uncovering a simple work of art. A Harley Davidson painted in lightning blue, the colors of it mixing on the chrome as reflections. She flipped her leg over it and straddled it, her dress moving up around her crotch. The only way it would stay down and not rise around her curved hips was by her sitting on it.

“Get on.” She said as she started it and flipped a switch that lowered a ramp from the ceiling. He got on behind her and held her waist as she gunned the bike up two levels, turning on a dime between them. An automatic garage door opened which was not much bigger than the bike itself. It closed automatically as they sped out into the night.

The wind bothered his eyes. They wore no helmets or glasses. He turned his head to the side, half keeping track of the city moving by him, and half shielding his eyes from the on coming wind. It was late. That much he could tell. Deep into the night. Few cars existed on the street, and even fewer people. Steven’s hands tightened around her waist as they hit a bump. She seemed suddenly small against him. Delicate, the bones and flesh just under her dress, and her milky white skin which he had only felt as velvet against him when she had him ride her. His ass still ached. She turned a corner bringing his attention to the road once again. There were lights up ahead.

She stopped the bike in front of a biker bar, a few bikes still standing outside despite the time of night. She looked down at the ground where many more had been parked. Some rubber still stained the ground and other sections held oil and other fluids that had dripped onto the asphalt. She looked ahead and released the clutch, moving forward once again. She sped through the streets. Running red lights, passing cars, avoiding the dozing police car easily. It wasn’t until they reached the warehouse district that she slowed down, turning and twisting around the streets until she came to one where a fenced yard opened to the side of the closed building. The smell of motorcycles was obvious. Some were leaking and needed fixed. She parked the bike in front of the open gate.

“Watch the bike.” Was all she said as she opened the rusty gate with her hand, causing the reddish powder to cover the inside of her palm. Steven’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and he heard something. He wasn’t sure what it was at first. He looked down at himself, still sitting on the bike dressed like some…boy toy. He slid off the side of the bike but stayed near. He heard the noise again and drew closer to the gate, looking through the chain link fence towards the muffled noises beyond.

Melody stepped into the yard. Some of the motorcyclist were sleeping, leaning up against the warehouse wall. The smell of beer and whiskey was overpowering to her senses. She could hear the two working on a bike in the back, arguing over what kind of spark plug was best to put in the model of motorcycle they were working on. They wouldn’t be that much trouble. She heard the muffled noise…the same Steven could hear, and she walked towards it.

Part 1 / Part 2