This piece is about Lucretzia and her initial
encounter with one of her herd. It was written at the request of my
storyteller, though I think she only really wanted a page or less.
Oops!
She sat in the most luxurious chair in the house, shifting about in an attempt to get comfortable against the vinyl covered seat. An impossible task. Her thoughts toyed with an idea for one of the boys to fetch a chair from his home. While deliberating the pros and cons, a flash of red hair caught her eye. The task that plagued her mind moments ago quickly vanished as her eyes scanned the boy.
Boy might have been the wrong word, since he appeared to be to be in his mid-twenties. Yet, to her, very few men were not boys. Their demeanors, their desires, their need to satisfy her every whim made them children. And hell, he was cattle either way.
As she tossed back her raven black hair, she could not help but recall the soft spot she had for coppery red locks. Quite a few of her lovers had such a cast to their hair when she still had sex. She let out a soft sound of approval as she appraised him. Delicious to look at. As an added plus, she'd found most redheads had a special tang to their blood like that of a copper penny. A chuckle left her lips, leaving a smile to play across her face. She would have that one tonight.
With a snap of her fingers, a tall, gothic, dark-haired boy was kneeling before her expectantly. He had been close at hand and sprang into action at her command. His deep brown eyes were downcast, hands locked behind his back, so perfect and eager in his submissive stance.
"Go fetch the boy with the red hair for me, slave." Her utterance, hard and commanding, held no special charms. She did not wield any of her seemingly magical powers. She only needed to speak.
The young man looked up at her for a moment, gazing into her sapphire blue eyes for a fraction of a second. In them, he saw their coldness and knew his disappointment meant nothing to her. Jason rose quickly and went to approach the man.
Lucrezia watched as her slave strode away. In his slow but steady steps, she read his hurt and anger. His motions revealed his hatred for her attentions to others which made it all the more delightful having him fetch the new playtoy.
She watched closely as Jason spoke to the other boy, taking in the view. She wished she could hear what they were saying but music blared overhead, too loud, too driving in its bass to offer even a remote chance. At Jason's prompting, the redhead turned to look over at Lucrezia. His eyes were confronted by her stare. As he walked towards her, she never overted her gaze, placing a challenge to him to step closer while she leaned back in her seat.
She grinned as his gaze did not turn downward quickly as most others would do. His hazel eyes, flecked with green and blue, gleamed with delight. They shone with a slight mischief and pride that was crystal clear despite the dim lighting of the club.
"Hi. A pleasure to meet you...", he said in a firm but gentle tone. His words came forth slow and thick, tinged with sweetness.
Jason stood behind the boy and whispered something in his ear. The redhead turned and gave him a rather questioning look before looking back to Zia. Not wanting any further distractions from her boy, she glared at Jason, snapping her fingers and pointing to the floor next to her. Quickly, the brunette made his way to her side and knelt beside her. Her thoughts tailed off to how she was going to have to keep these two apart as Jason never did play well with others.
Graciously, she waved her hand at the seat to her other side. "Please, have a seat."
The boy sat down and looked over to Zia. Her fingers trailed through Jason's hair, pacifying him ever so quickly. So easy to please... Too easy.
"So you are Mistress Lucrezia. I've heard about you...", a smile trailed across his lusciously full, pink lips.
She chuckled as she looked him up and down, making it quite obvious she was stalking her prey. "I see... And what might you have heard, m'dear?"
Never one to be outdone, he grinned at her and said nothing for a moment, contemplating the right words. "I understand you are very skilled with knives."
How his eyes shone with those words! Oh yes, this boy wanted it bad. It was transparent in how he spoke, the tone, the inflection of his voice.
"Ahhh... A fan of the lash of the blade are you?" Her face remained emotionless, though her eyes glimmered with amusement.
"I am new to this stuff..." waving his hand at the club around him, gesturing to the many couples and groups engaging in various acts of pleasure and pain.
She could not help but laugh before speaking. "Oh dear. I fear I would break you then."
"Perhaps..."
His words were somewhat softer, somewhat less sure. Yet he did not look away.
Oh yes... This one would be fun.
"Well, my fee is not cheap, dear."
He bit down hard on his lip and only then did he look down at the floor. How flustered he became, yet he seemed to be thinking hard on it. The flush to his cheeks showed his obvious embarrassment as it had never even occurred to him that the woman would demand money. After a few moments, words started rushing out.
"I really don't have any money. About all I could offer is a piece of art or something. I have heard you are the best here with knives... That was all I knew. But listen, it was a dumb idea. I can see you have other things to do so..."
He started to rise from the chair, yet Zia's voice quickly cut him off.
"Sit." Her voice sharp, but not yet cruel.
She stared at him hard, looking him up and down. His ass sat down quickly, before he even comprehended his actions.
Her voice becoming a touch softer and sweeter, "So, are you any good?"
He blinked, not sure what to say, but then he looked into her eyes again. There was an interest within her gaze that had not been there before.
"I hope so... But you are welcome to come back to my place and see some of my paintings."
Zia could not help but laugh loudly. "And your etchings?"
The redhead laughed in return and smiled broadly. "Well, I am really a painter, but hell, if you want an etching, I can do one."
"We shall see what I want..." Her eyes looked into his and did not let the gaze be broken. "Jason, go fetch the car."
Jason rose quickly and made his way out of the club in a huff. Yet he knew better than to argue. He never wished to get his Mistress angry for that did not bode well for him. And though he never wished to address it, he adored her abuse. The more atrocious her behavior, the more desperate he was to please her.
In the car, she learned the redhead's name-not that names were ever much of a concern as she would call him whatever she pleased. Peter. Simple, easy to remember. She couldn't help but think about the reference to the saint. His face was almost angelic and there was something very charismatic about the boy. Not half as charming as her, but then again, few were. Only ones of her kind and politicians had her level of magnetism.
They arrived in the heart of the Village and before exiting she ordered Jason to return precisely an hour before dawn. He was to wait until dawn and if she had not come out, that would mean she had gone home early. She thought about a threat to insure he was not lax in his duties, but she knew he would be there. Jason was nothing if not reliable-the faithful little pup.
Peter's place was a small studio, little more than a box. The smell of turpentine and oil laid heavy in the air. He moved about the room, straightening up a tad. She gazed at the walls until she came to a smaller piece, more intimate than the rest. It was a man, arms and legs outstretched, long chestnut hair cascading down around his shoulders. The background full of colors, so random and rapid the stroke work, alive and teaming with energy. The body of the man was a slow layering of the paints, each wash of the oil building upon the last, giving great depth. The form seemed to breathe with life, holding within it so much anticipation in it, so much desire.
Zia shook her head to push back the trance-like state that had held her locked in place. As she tried to focus at the wall to clear her mind, she could see Peter at her side. She quickly regained control of her senses as she began to hear the boy's voice going on about the work. Words went on and on about how Andrew and he were together for about a month or so, but at least Andrew was able to be part of one of his best pieces.
With a wave of her hand, she silenced the boy. His prattle did not matter right now, she had to have the piece.
"So. That will be the payment." Plain, simple, no room for discussion.
Peter blinked at her, uncertain what to do. He adored that piece more than anything else he had ever created. Could she be worth giving up such a treasure? She could be dreadful no matter how hot she was, no matter how much he really wanted her. He had been scoping her all night and had been unsure how to approach her. Yet, when she called for him, his entire heart rose up in his chest. He hadn't felt that schoolboyish about anyone in years.
This amazing creature wanted his most treasured piece.
So sheepishly his voice spoke, "Can I visit it?"
She laughed and lifted his chin, drawing him into a kiss. Her tongue probed his mouth. With the dance of the kiss, she opened up his body and mind more with each second that passed. He gasped deeply, letting out a sigh when she broke away.
"If you are very good...perhaps..."
All reason went straight out the window as his desire escalated. A nip to his lower lip caused him to shiver hard, his body tingling with excitement. His eyes fell shut and with a brisk shove, he fell backwards, landing hard on his ass. He let out a sharp cry of pain before Zia pressed the leather of her boots against his sides, pinning his waist between her feet.
She gazed down at him as his eyes fluttered open. Her head loomed high above him, almost seeming horrific for a moment, dark and sinister. With a shift of her stance, her visage caught the light and took on the cast of a goddess. Peter let out a soft moan and laid still, not knowing what to do next.
Zia let out a laugh, loving the confusion that riddled his face. She would make it worth his efforts. This payment was worth far more than any money she had ever received for a session. How she wished she could reach inside his mind to hear his thoughts, to fulfill every desire, for she knew this one was to be a keeper.
The silky leather of the deerskin boots caressed the side of Peter's perfect little visage. How warm the skin felt against his own. The pointed toe trailed along his well-defined jawline, so soft and tender the touch. His head moved gently to press into the slightest touch, revealing his pleasure. The desires within him grew and started to shift. He thought he longed for pain, the cutting strokes of her knives, but now all he wanted to bring her pleasure; in any way she desired.
Moving her foot quickly, she brought the flat of the bottom down upon Peter's delicate throat. His head was pushed back to the floor, laying flat and so still as the pressure from the leg increased. Each breath became harder to draw into his chest.
She stared straight into his eyes and spoke so calmly, "You know, I could press down hard enough to crush your throat right now."
A quiver pressed through his body and a whimper failed to push past the shoe barring down on his larynx. His hazel eyes took on a deeper cast, fear muddying them as the flush from his cheeks disappeared to cast his face the color of coldest marble.
Only then did her head tilt slightly and a smile grace her lips. "But I do not like to break my toys... And you will be one of my toys, won't you?"
Her foot lifted enough to enable him to speak. She knew the answer before he even bothered to say it, but she loved to hear it anyways.
He gasped heavily for air before uttering a tiny "...yes..."
Her boot came down sharply again, pressing harder against his tender throat. "Excuse me? I didn't hear you..."
Trying to push out a yes, he found himself unable to until she lifted her boot once again. With this, he gasped in the air which ripped through his tender throat, but he could speak.
"Yes..."
Zia uttered a huge sigh and glared down at him, pressing down with a good portion of her weight against his neck. This one would need far more training, but as she glanced about the apartment (carefully avoiding that particular painting), she knew it wou ld be well worth the effort.
With the lack of oxygen, Peter's thoughts became more fuzzy, fear clawing at him while a sweet bliss held him tight. As he looked up at her, her words were all he could hear, his eyes focusing on her perfect features, her flowing hair, her radiant smile.
"What was that?"
Letting up once more, he took the air deeply into his lungs, causing pain to rack at his chest. Then, a thought seeped into his head. He knew the words he must speak.
The voice so tiny, much quieter than before... "Yes, Goddess..."
Zia tossed back her head, brushing back her dark hair. Now, Goddess was a new one. But she liked it...
She moved her foot away from the bruised skin and knelt down beside Peter. Her cool hand began caressing his face, sliding down to his tender throat. A low moan fell from his mouth and as it opened, she pressed down against his eager lips. Her tongue lapped at his. So tender the kiss began, morphing quickly into a possessive taking of his mouth. His body quaked as she did not break the kiss, holding his breath at bay once again.
She prolonged the kiss 'til she was certain his breath was completely spent and instinct would force him to breathe through his nose. He gasped for air once more. Desire and fear merged within him. Its power overwhelmed him yet he needed to feel more.
Quickly, Zia stood up and snapped her fingers.
"Kneel..."
The fog began to lift from Peter's head as he moved to obey her command. A crimson flush covered his face as he felt so ludicrous on his knees before this woman. Yet, as she ran her hand through his hair, he knew unprecedented joy with the simplest caress.
His face pressed into her palm. Her touch felt so cooling, refreshing against the heat of his skin. Slowly, her fingers moved down to his chin and her thumb pressed upward at the underside of his chin. He looked up into her eyes, so taken with the deep blue pools. They sparkled with a brilliance that was breathtaking.
She drew her fingertips upward and pressed them to his lips. Gently he pressed his lips to her hand, his lips brushing it delicately. A soft chuckle left her lips as she gazed down at how eagerly he submitted his will to her own. The brash boy was a tame little kitten within the span of just over an hour.
Carefully, she checked the time. Two hours remained until Jason would be downstairs with the car. She resented having to keep so focused on the time, but she had learned through experience her need to be more attentive to such things now. The past had shown her not to trifle with the dawn.
Seeing the need in his body, she was tempted to walk out the door. Oh my, how that would be such a torment to him. Yet, the painting was going home with her tonight. She could always entrance him to let her have it, but that would spoil the game. The chase and capture were far too delightful to have them spoiled unless all else failed. Talking in the blissful look upon his face, she knew there was little chance of that.
Her strong fingers entwined in his hair, pulling the locks at the base of his skull taunt. No pain was created in the motion, yet a deep whimper echoed through the silent room. His entire body arched at the action, trying to press closer to hers. Yet, she held him fixed in place; so near to him, yet unable to feel anything other than her grip on his hair.
His eyes gazed down at her boots, slowly gazing upward at her calves. They were so magnificently formed. He tried to photograph them in his mind, knowing how he would need to recapture her. They would need to be recounted in paint and canvas. Yet, he also knew, he would fail and suddenly released a sob.
Zia was taken aback a bit at the sound, shocked that he could be broken so easily. Disappointment made itself clear in a deep sigh. Her voice could not help but echo the disheartening on her mind.
"What is it, boy?"
He didn't know how to explain what he was thinking and her tone only shook him more. His mouth gaped as her frustration grew. Words were not coming to mind. Not one.
She tapped her foot for a moment, determining if he hadn't answered by the tenth tap, he was in a shitload of trouble. The tenth tap came and went while he had just began to stutter. On what would have been the eleventh beat, her hand came down hard across his soft cheek. The pain seared into his skin, stunning him for a moment.
Zia turned her back and began to walk away from him, figuring she would just take the painting and be gone. Fuck it. This one was as bad as the rest and she didn't have to train them anyhow. Rage built up within her as she strode over to the painting figuring he would be to much of a wimp to do anything.
Then his words struck her, before she had reached the mid-point of the room.
"Please, Goddess... I just know I cannot capture you with my painting. I can never hope to recreate this moment. There is nothing that will ever feel like this again and I so want it to remember it somehow, and I only know, I am doomed to fail..."
Her grin was shielded from his sight. He saw nothing but her backside; the beautiful, soft black leather boots running up to her thighs, the lovely black silk dress clinging to her body. The boot began to tap once more and he flinched.
She pressed her lips down before turning back to face him. The mask of her face was now perfectly cool and detached. As he gazed at her, he thought upon the classical Aphrodite of Greek sculpture. A look of lust and devotion swallowed up his entire being. She knew his awe was so complete that he would be hers for as long as she wished.
Quickly, she pulled the knife from her boot and within an instant she was back in front of him. Before he could even comprehend her actions, she brought the knife down upon his throat, the ruby head of his blood sliding down his white skin. Her tongue leapt forward to brush over the cut, sealing it so quickly.
The pain spiked as she cut, yet quickly it disappeared, being replaced by the blissful caress of her tongue. His mind reeled, confusion overbearing. He let out another sob, this one quite different than the last. Zia knew that he comprehended none of this, which only enhanced her pleasure.
His blood was so sweet she wanted to savor the flavor. The delicacy of its mix was so divine that she wondered if she should feast on him until his life was taken into her own. The taste in her mouth left her wanting more. So more she would have.
As she focused, she grew stronger and lifted him to his feet and slammed his back to the wall. The knife loomed before his eyes, reflecting back at him his terror and need. She brought the blade down and caressed his lower lip with it. Slowly, softly she touched it. The sharp edge split the weak skin, bringing agony forth. Yet, as her tongue flickered over the cut, the pain was replaced with such passion. His feelings began to lose comprehension, so he simply tossed himself into the sensations she provided.
She lifted the blade once more to his eyes. The silver and gold of it glimmered with the deepest crimson edging the outline. He shivered hard, knowing it was his blood that graced the cold metal.
"Do you want this? Do you truly desire my pain, my pleasure, my body, my mind, taking you, controlling you, using you how ever I choose? And then, when you least expect it, leaving you for dead? Is this what you want?"
If her heart could have beat, it would have been pounding within her chest, her excitement almost as great as his. After only hours, she wanted this boy so much that it could be the fall of her, almost as much as she wanted Joshua...almost.
His breath fell heavy as he pushed out words slowly, "...yes, my Goddess..."
Her lips turned upward in a grin while her eyes took on the color of the deep blue sky before a storm. The knife came down quickly across his throat, cutting deep enough to let the blood flow forth, yet not reaching any depth that would kill him.
Her mouth pressed tight over the gash as she began to suckle from him. How exquisite the warmth of the liquid felt, rushing out of his throat into her own. She moaned as she wrapped her arm about him, holding his shivering body pressed so tight against her own. This liquid heat poured into her cool body, taking away the cold edge of her skin, breathing life into her undead form.
His senses were flooded with such pure ecstasy that his cock exploded within its bindings. Such pleasure had never been known to him before as the agony of the cut mixed with the delight of her mouth. His mind did not riddle over the two sensations for they were linked as one. Without one, the other would be insignificant. His body quivered and shook violently, the sheer delight that one body could withstand became so painful, although he could not conceive of the sensations ending.
Yet they had to end. Zia pulled away, using all her might not to drain him completely. She thrust him back forcefully, ramming him into the wall so hard that his head dented the spot behind it. Consciousness slipped from him as he sank to the floor. Zia lifted him quickly and set him down on the bed, a touch frightened that she might have stepped over the line and drained him too much. Her tongue flickered over his neck to seal any trace of the cut.
Slowly his eyes fluttered open and he released an anguished moan. As she caressed his hair, a touch of blood brushed off his hair onto her fingers. She licked at her hand, relishing the droplets like a perfect dessert smeared on the fingers. Her tongue flickering sweetly at the red fluid.
Peter gazed up at her behind the fog that filled his mind. As he began to become more lucid, he was too transfixed by her charms to be clearheaded. His hand reached out to rub the back of his head, recalling that in her passion, Zia had thrust him backward. His head throbbed, but nothing that a few drugs wouldn't fix.
Relief touched Zia as the boy's eyes cleared and focused. She never liked breaking her toys and the backlash could be far to messy. While she could easily charm the police, she was not yet strong enough to be able to make them forget whatever she wished. She told the boy to lay back and got him some water from the bare fridge. Only then did she look down at her watch. Shit. Twenty minutes to get home.
"I must go, but you will be here waiting for me at 8 tomorrow. Do you understand?"
Peter nodded his head, which seemed to hurt more at the nod. He winced and began to speak, to which she simply placed her finger on his lips.
"I know you will be here. So lay quietly now. And remember if you are very good, you will get to visit the painting."
She stood quickly and snatched the painting from the wall. She turned quickly and without another word, let herself out of the apartment. Peter lied there a few moments before finally rising, knowing that he had to lock the door behind her. Just as he got to the door, he heard a gentle knock. If he hadn't been standing there, he would have never heard it.
His heart leapt, hoping it might be Zia. He swung the door open to find the brunette guy who had fetched him only a few hours prior. Peter rolled his eyes wondering what on earth he wanted.
"Yes?"
Jason gave the redhead a look that told him that was not in enjoying being on the doorstep any more than he was welcome there.
"My Mistress told me I had to keep an eye on you today."
"Ahhh......thanks, but I am fine. Go home.", Peter's tone downright dismissive.
Jason's voice took on a sharper edge, "Excuse me. I think you will learn, you don't argue with her wishes."
The look in Jason's eyes told Peter that the guy was telling the truth. And hell, his head was still throbbing like a son-of-a-bitch...
"Come on in..."
Zia blared the music full volume, almost making her eardrums bleed, if that were indeed possible. She had the car parked and was inside her apartment within 5 minutes. She lifted the painting carefully, only gazing at the backside of the work. Last thing she needed was to trance right now. Oh no...
Stripping out of her things quickly, she made her way to the bed. As she lay there, the deep sleep pulling at her, she breathed in the scent of the oil and envisioned the body who had painted it. Her tongue ran over her lips, sucking in the remaining hint of the sweet nectar of his blood.
June 1996
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