Greetings once again. This is a story about a woman and her vampire, but it's not a vampire story. It's not a love story, but it is a story about love, and the power it has to heal, and to destroy. It contains explicit sexual acts between females, among other people. It contains scenes of graphic violence and rape. If you are not of legal age to read this type of story, or if this isn't your cup of tea then please leave now.
Though inspired by true events, all characters and events herein are entirely of my own imagination and any resemblance to any actual person, or actual event is entirely coincidental; I'll leave it to you to decide what's fact and what's fiction.
Comments, questions, concerns, and criticism are greatly appreciated.
Enjoy.
Chapter 2
I didn't want to think about last night. I didn't want to think about the silent treatment Tiffany gave me. I didn't want to think about the shit the guys put me through. And, most importantly, I didn't want to think about my "encounter" with that chick Nadia. So, naturally, that was exactly what I've been doing since arriving home. I think the puncture marks in the nape of my neck had something to do with it.
It wasn't enough that Nadia fucking me had me feeling like a cheap whore, but she left behind a mark that I can't cover with make up -- I've been trying for the last ten minutes. Frustrated, I sat down against the wall and cursed at myself. The sores are sensitive, the slightest touch sends a current into my groin and makes me that much hornier. I threw out the idea of a choker or necklace; I didn't want to think what constant pressure would do to me. Plus I noticed my face has been looking a little whiter than usual. Yeah, cheap whore would be a good word to describe me right now. Used, marked, and abandoned.
"Charlie! You about done in there?" came Sven's voice for the fourteenth time.
"I'm just about done," I mumbled back, running my fingers over my forehead.
"You said that ten minutes ago... make sure you open a window."
"Shut up!" I got off my ass and opened the door. I walked passed him with my head turned slightly. The fewer people who saw them the better, especially him. "It's all yours," I said as I closed my bedroom door.
Why do I have to go to school today? I could stay at home, watch TV and not think about anything. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll just sit downstairs and watch a movie or something. I'm sure that'll take my mind off of Nadia and all the things she did to me.
"Charlie, you okay?" my mother asked through the door.
"I'm fine mom, just really tired," I lied.
She opened my door and came in. She stood in the doorway for moment, looking me over with that motherly judgement. "What time did you get home last night?"
"About twelve," I said, looking down. I turned my head to keep the marks from her, even if doing so meant another twinge in my crotch.
"You look a little pale honey," she cajoled, coming closer, studying me. "Did you get sick?" Why does she have to look at me like that?
"You could say that," I answered, still not meeting her gaze. "Tiffany didn't fare much better." I adjusted the collar of my t-shirt to cover my shoulder, stifling a moan. I looked her right in the eye and asked, "Is it alright if I stayed home today?"
She made a face and touched my forehead. I knew what her answer was going to be. "You feel fine honey. Come on downstairs and eat something; I'll take you myself." Damn. "Call Tiffany and tell her we'll pick her up." Double damn.
I huffed and got up. I knew protesting would be pointless. I couldn't just come out and tell her the truth -- I still don't know what the truth is -- and any attempt to lie further would be feeble; her mind was made up. She left me and went downstairs. Great. Now I not only have to call my hungover ex, but share a ride with her too. And somehow cover up the evidence from last night.
I looked at my cellphone. More accurately, I stared at my cellphone. Maybe if I stared hard enough, I could will it into making that call. I heard my brother leave the bathroom, whistling dixie for some reason. I listened to the birds chirping outside of my window. I don't know why, but it was a nice, if momentary, distraction from calling the hungover bitch.
I leaned over and grabbed the damn thing. I jumped ten feet when it went off in my hand. Looking down at the number, I suddenly got worried. It was Tiffany.
I opened it and mumbled a weak, "Hello?"
"Hey, Charlie, it's me," she said as if I didn't know that. "Can your mom give me a ride to class today? I still feel like shit."
The blood in my veins turned to ice. "Yeah, you and me both," I got out instead of what I was really thinking. "We'll be by to pick you up in a few."
"Thanks hon."
I hung up before I said something stupid. I decided that finishing getting dressed wold be the best thing for me right now. Even though it's supposed to be warm out, I figured a loose high collar shirt would be the easiest road. I applied some foundation to hide my now-pale complexion, and then my signature blood-red lipstick. If I'm gonna feel like a used whore, why not look the part? Plus, this color has always been a turnoff to Tiffany; the fewer words the better.
Tiffany got into the car without a sound. I couldn't help but notice how conservative she was dressed this morning. The only exposed skin was her hands and face. She had to sweating to death under all that. I also noticed how she didn't so much as look at me. Just opened the door and sat down. Good, because I'm still plenty mad at her.
As we drove off towards campus, I couldn't tell if mom was oblivious to the tension flowing between us or just didn't care because she said in that early-morning perkiness, "Isn't it such a lovely morning?"
I just nodded, but Tiffany just had to go and screw up my plans. "Sucks so far, what do you think Charlie?"
Damn it. Just because she's talking to me doesn't mean I've gotta look at her. "It'd be better if I was at home right now." Mom shot me one of her famous looks. Hey, I had to try.
"Is there something I should know about?" mommy-dearest asked, glancing at me. I didn't make a move to acknowledge the question. I felt Tiffany turn her gaze out of her window.
Mom looked back at Tiffany, then back to me. I rolled my eyes and looked out my window. "Alright, the hard way it is." I heard my mother sigh just before she slammed on the brakes and jerked he wheel. I think Tiffany and I squealed louder than the tires. I felt my ex face-plant the back of my seat just before the car came to a stop.
"What the hell, mom!" I screamed, my hands still glued to the dashboard. I heard my pulse running through my ears, or was that the ringing from the tires?
"One, or both, of you will tell me what's going on with the two of you." It wasn't a request. I sat back and glanced at Tiffany, who was still holding her nose. I looked a little harder at her hands, or, more accurately, the red streak running through her fingers. Curious. I thought I smelled blood.
"Mom, can you give Tiff a napkin?" I said, not taking my eyes from her hands.
She was still staring daggers at me, but I didn't care. Growing up, the sight of blood always made me sick. I remember when Sven and I were playing with some of the neighborhood kids in a simple touch-football game and one of the guys smacked another one too hard. Blood just poured out of his nose and mouth. I went pale and faint. That was the last time I ever played that game with my brother, or his friends. Hell, I still have yet to watch another football game period.
Tiffany pulled the napkin away from her face, folded it, and then reapplied the pressure. I continued to stare. I wasn't sick, I wasn't feeling faint. I was... indifferent. Maybe she had it coming to her after last night, I mused, but that's not why I felt this way. No, it simply didn't bother me.
"What!" she yelled, breaking my focus. I smiled at my newly found tolerance, but the grin got lost in translation. "You think this is funny? After what happened last night, you think this is funny?"
Shit. "Tell me about that, Tiffany," my mother pressed. Shit, shit, shit.
"We went to the Were-House and I think somebody slipped some GHB in my drink," she started in that it-wasn't-my-fault tone. "We're sitting at our table, laughing having a good time, and listening to Sven's band play. Next thing I know, I hear somebody whisper in my ear and then I wake up on the bathroom floor." She looked back at me, issuing a silent apology that I wasn't buying. But by the look on her face, though, mom did.
"Did you call the police?" she asked, suddenly worried, looking between the two of us.
"I convinced her not to," I spoke up quickly. She's already spilled more than I felt comfortable with. "I was watching her drinks and no one slipped her anything. She just lost count of how many she'd had, threw-up, and passed out. I dragged her to the bathroom so she could sober up a bit before we went home."
"And that's what's been bugging you this whole time?" mom asked, looking right at me.
I looked back at Tiffany and she lowered her eyes. "Yeah. Seeing Tiffany like that kinda made me a little ill, too." Not the whole truth, but it'll work. I kept my eyes on her the whole time as if willing her to keep her mouth shut. After several moments of silence mom put the car back into gear and headed off towards campus.The closer we got to the school, the more my scars began to tingle.
My eyes widened at the sensations running through my body. I trembled like an orgasm was fast approaching. I tried my hardest to look nonchalant--how the hell would I explain this one?--but I'm sure I failed miserably. My breathing was coming in smaller and smaller pants, by heart was beating faster and faster. The muscles inside of my pussy clamped down on the fingers that weren't there. I heard someone say something about a good dream, and I had to agree. This felt so good, in yet so wrong. Especially in front of my mom.
I reached up and put my hand over my neck. I tried not to close my eyes, but gave up fighting it. I knew the two other women in the car could smell my arousal by now--it was seeping into my pants.
"Relax, Charlene," I heard a voice whisper. "Just let it happen; don't fight it."
"But I have to," I thought. "I can't just cum like this. This isn't right."
"Sh-sh-sh. Let me have this; I need to have this."
Still fighting off what my body was doing, I thought, "Leave me alone." Then another orgasmic wave coursed through me. "P-please..."
Then it happened. My body exploded in that wonderful bliss. My heart rate slowly calmed down and my breathing returned to normal. I felt so relieved, but at the same time so filthy. I chanced a glance at my mother and to my surprise she seemed to be completely oblivious to what just happened. She was staring straight ahead, driving the car like she always does. Trying not to turn my head, I looked back at my ex. She had gone pale and was staring at me, horrified. I licked my dry lips and turned back around. I knew I had some explaining to do.
I stood with my back against the wall while Tiff and Travis got some breakfast from one of the machines. Neither one was saying anything and that was disturbing. Whenever either one of them gets plastered like that the other is the first to jump at the chance to give them some shit. Not today for some reason, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say neither one was going to start anytime soon. Not with the sullen expression on Tiffany's face, and not with the withdrawn disposition Travis held himself in.
I used my foot to propel away fro the wall and start following them. We were headed for the one class we shared. Economics. It's in the only original building of the college that's still standing. Awesome stuff for the architecture majors and history buffs, but me, personally, it freaked me right the fuck out. You can hear the floors creek under the carpet. The doors' hinges are slightly askew so some had a tendency to drift open on their own. The ceilings were a good foot lower than every other building, giving the claustrophobics fits--myself included. Not to mention that the hallways were the narrowest in this building, and, interestingly enough, they got progressively smaller as you went up. I can give you two guesses which floor our class was on, but you're only gonna need one.
Yep, top floor, all the way down at the other end of the hallway. Gotta love those rickety-old stairs--all five flights of them--and creepy mood provided by the lack of windows. And when added to the silent tension going on in front of me the whole time, I can honestly say that I was not in the best of moods.
When I sat down, I gave up on trying to concentrate on what Professor Smith was teaching today. Images from last night kept popping into my head. Nadia's flawless skin and teeth. I remember that when she gave me that crimson smile I felt like I could melt. Her fierce yet soft eyes held me rapt the whole time. Even when she bit me I didn't feel any pain or fear; I only wanted more. Sensations kept crawling over my skin, resonating from the bite marks. Not I-need-to-have-sex sensations, but tingling make-you-feel-wanted brushings. Like how one would touch a lover.
I let out a content sigh and opened my eyes. Mr. Smith paused his lecture the second before. When did I close my eyes? I gave a hard look to anyone who dared stare at me, especially the twins. "What! Can't I be happy for once?" I said a little more aggressively than I intended. But it worked. Mr. Smith returned to his lesson and suddenly I wasn't the center of attention. Good.
The class ended without me writing a single thing down. I waited for everyone else to leave before I made my grand exit, and it wasn't because of the creepy hallway. I didn't want to hear what everyone was saying about me. Not that I cared much, I just didn't want to hear it. Slowly, I gathered my things and made my way out. Mr. Smith refused to meet my eye. Odd, but I'll take it; I wasn't doing all that well in this class anyway.
"What's going on with you, Charlie?" came Tiffany's voice when I came into the hall. It scared me, not from the suddenness, but at the accusation in her tone. Trying my hardest not to scream, I just stared at her. "I've never seen you like this. You've been a complete bitch to me since last night."
"I've been the bitch?" I bit back. "I looked out for your ass. I held your hair while you were vomiting all that alcohol. I told you when to stop drinking before you killed yourself, and I'm the bitch?" My scars started to tingle, but I knew what it was from. She just looked at me, hurt and vulnerable. I wasn't in the mood for it and pushed passed her. "Move."
"Who's Nadia?" she almost weeped.
"I dont know," I confessed, stopping dead in my tracks. "Why?"
"I heard her voice again. This is really freaky shit, Charlie. How can someone speak to you in your mind like that?" I repeated my previous answer. "How can you be so calm about this? We literally have someone fucking with our heads!"
I didn't have any other answer, so I shrugged my shoulders. "I think she goes to school here, so were bound to find her eventually." I tried to stay calm even though I shared her concern, but I wasn't about to let her know that. She's spazzing out enough as it is.
Tiffany slowly approached me, her head tilted slightly. Suddenly an icy chill ran down my spine and I shuddered. My legs got weaker, sweat dripped down my back. "Where did you get that?" the taller girl asked, nodding at my shoulder. She placed a hand on my shoulder when I didn't answer right away. Tiffany moved my collar aside and gasped. "What the fuck happened to you?"
I pulled out of her grip. Adjusting my shirt back to where I had it, I tried to think of a good lie, but came up empty. "What's it to you?"
"What's it to me?" she repeated, "My best friend has a bite mark on her shoulder and she's asking me something that stupid? It means everything to me. Did Nadia do this?" I blushed, Tiffany lost her breath. "Was this before or after she fucked you?"
"Goodbye, Tiffany." I spun on my heels and proceed down the hall. I could hear Tiffany's sobs over her hard footsteps. "I'm going to be late for my next class," I said over my shoulder. My ex stopped dead in her tracks; I walked right into an immovable object. "Goddamnit, now what!" I yelled. I lost all brain function when I looked up.
Nadia stood above me like a dark angel, her all-black outfit clinging to her in all the right places. Her leather pants made her look even thinner; that tight cotton shirt was stretched nicely over her chest; but what made her look like sex personified was that jacket that completed the look. Her hair cascading down her shoulders like a black waterfall. Those dark lips were curled up in a satisfied smile. What really threw me though was the lack of reaction from my neck. "Hello, Charlie," came her sexy, quiet, accented voice.
"Hi, Nadia," I retorted, getting up. "Excuse me." I pushed passed her and nearly fell down the stairs. How I didn't knock her over the edge was beyond me. I looked back up when she made a noise. She looked over her shoulder, then over to Tiffany.
"I need to talk to you, Charlie," she said out loud, but looking at Tiffany. "Alone."
"I'd love to stay and chat, but I'm already late for my next class."
"Then miss it," she snapped, and I told her where she could shove it. "You don't understand, I need to talk to you. Now." Before I could think anything else, she stood inches from my face. She went from beautiful to frightening just like that.
"Well, then can we walk and talk?" I asked, trying to avoid her sweet breath on my skin. I looked right into her dark eyes. I saw her pupils dilating, I felt my groin responding yet again. My pulse hammered and adrenaline surged. Shit. "Please stop doing that."
"Doing what?" she asked innocently, brushing my hair from my face. She stepped closer, looking at my eyes, then to my scar. She stood with her cheek touching mine."God, you smell so good," she breathed. Oh god, that felt so good, in yet I somehow fought off my initial reaction. I put my hands against her stomach and tried to shove her away. The grip she had on my neck tightened, her eyes hardened. "Don't push me away. You want this as much as I do." Why did this have to feel so good? She's freaking raping me.
Her tongue licked down the side of neck, stopping just shy of the marks she left on me the night before. A moan escaped my lips. I pushed harder on her middle, but that only seemed to egg her on. I opened my eyes. She smiled wickedly, showing me those beautiful fangs of hers. "Please... stop. I have... a... class..."
Suddenly I felt her teeth in me again, piercing deep under my skin. A soft tingling ran from my shoulder to cover me in goosebumps. I inhaled sharply at the wonderful sensations coursing through my body. Visions of orgasmic bliss flowed through my mind; I replayed what happened in the bathroom last night. How each beat of my heart brought me closer to climax. Even now, my pussy seeped with wanton desire. And Nadia was happy to oblige.
She placed a hand between my legs and started rubbing. I think my zipper is the best sex toy I've ever owned. Or was it her tongue lapping at my bleeding shoulder? Slowly, my hands left her midsection and traveled up to her tits. Her soft, tender breasts, molding to my fingers as I squeezed. I felt her nipples harden under my guile. Nadia let out a moan that seemed to say, "More". My hands gripped tighter, her mouth clamped down once again. Another small, blissful yelp escaped me. It felt so good having her inside me like that. I wanted more. I wanted everything.
Suddenly her hand clamped down on my pussy, then stopped. The sensual sucking on my shoulder ceased. Roughly, I grabbed her tits again, trying anything to get her to bite down on me. But she didn't respond beyond an orgasmic groan. The vibration was enough for me. The wave of sound traveled to my core, causing me to cum against her stilled hand. Somehow I held in the scream as the juices poured out of me.
When I came back to earth, I also came back to reality. Nadia, this darkly beautiful woman, holding onto me like her life depended on it, lifted her lips in that crimson smile, however meek it may have been. Our eyes met. Her pupils were completely dilated and mine were glossed over in that post-orgasm veil. Then it hit me. The shame, the guilt, the humiliation. My eyes welled up. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time before she gulped, looking down and away.
I don't know what happened, but the next thing I know she let go of me completely. Body and mind. And I collapsed onto the floor. A couple of tears escaped my eyes. I didn't care why I was crying, I was just happy that she let me go. I looked up at her and immediately felt guilty anew. She held her middle--the same spots my hands were--and looked absolutely horrified. She fell back against the stairwell and slid down. My assailant looked at me with apologizing eyes. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I just wanted to talk to you."
Between calming my heart rate and nerves, I somehow managed to utter, "Then talk."
"You have to stop doing that to me," she said in broken sobs.
"Beg your pardon?" I said, immediately sobering up. "You just about raped me. Again!"
"I don't rape anyone, Charlene. You keep calling out to me, asking me to share with you." She looked totally freaked out of her mind. Vulnerable. And that, for some reason, made me feel even more guilty.
"Okay. How do I stop 'calling out to you'?" I asked bluntly. Anger replaced the pain I felt from the bite marks. I may feel guilty, but that doesn't mean I have to look it. "You think I want you constantly in my head, mind fucking me? I look like a fucking hemophiliac. I feel like a fucking whore. I'm telling you, to your face, leave me alone!"
"That won't do," she said, catching me off guard. "We're connected, you and I, by both blood and aura. You must will me away if you wish to see me no more. Words alone are not enough. I'll find you again." She stood up and walked away.
I blinked, and she was gone. "Hey! Come back..." I looked down to the bottom of the stairwell, but there was no sign of her. "BITCH! What the fuck were you talking about? Ah! GODDAMNIT!"
"Who are you yelling at?" Tiffany asked quietly, making me jump out of my skin.
"Where the hell have you been! I've been talking to Nadia for the last ten minutes and then you just appear? She just about raped me. Again. And you didn't do anything!" She didn't deserve that, but it felt good to get it out.
She took a step back, successfully getting out of my arm-reach. "I just got out of class," she answered meekly, blinking. "I thought you had World History to get to... What do you mean she almost raped you?"
I grunted. "Fuck it!" I picked up my stuff from where it landed and headed down the stairs. I ignored my best friend's calls to me. I didn't want to speak with anyone. I just wanted to scream. And then grab the biggest bandage I could get my hands on.