Warm, electrified, awakened...

Tonight, the world seemed luminescent, from the hues of the grass to the twinkling yellow light coming from the lightbulbs scattered along the ceiling. I used my hand to wipe the condensation off the bathroom mirror.

Red welts spread along my chest, this time from a source far more erotic and intoxicating than the last time. Reaching out, I stroked the tainted flesh, it absorbed the claim Alaric held over me. I dried my body and pulled on a silk nightdress, it was a few years old, and my body had since filled out. Causing the once cute-looking blue material to become a lot more provocative.

It's lace hem only just covered my ass, while the sweetheart neckline stretched across my breasts, pushing them up into a nice swell. It cinched in at the waist and I found myself mesmerised by my form. I wanted to look good for him.

For so long I'd despised my body; it was scattered in scars and memories of suppressed trauma. But tonight... I glowed, his touch had done something to me, both internally and externally. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me as I made my way through the quiet house and into my room.

The large bay window I always kept closed was open, and rain sang as the wind chilled the space. The standing lamp in the corner glossed over the room with honey. My eyes swept the space before returning to the large figure hunched over on my bed.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his jaw cupped in large hands. Alaric's eyes watched me, stroking my skin the way his fingers had. I clenched my thighs, feeling my core greet the appraisal enthusiastically.

I wondered if he could smell my arousal, his gaze stopped on the small dip between my hips, knowingly. This man knew exactly what he did to my body, knew that it would only drip like this for him.

Unable to bare the distance any longer, I crossed the room, pausing in between his spread legs.

Alaric hot breath seeped through the thin material of my nightwear. Inhaling deeply, he sat up straight, his lips in line with the top swells of my tits.

I thought he'd tug my breasts out, draw one in between his teeth and torment me. But Alaric was brutish, masculine and far more sadistic. One large hand curled around my neck, the other moved between my thighs. This time he did not toy, he simply thrust his middle finger between my slit, hard and forceful.

The sudden intrusion caused a small yelp, he holds my attention, making me watch while he thrusts in and out. So I watch, I fucking glare down into his soulless eyes and found my pussy enjoyed the lack of morality it found in them.

Shamelessly I rotated my hips, craving more, needing him to curl the digit inside me to hit that a velvety heaven within. "I need more." I pleaded. But Alaric only held my gaze, despite my body moving and his, the man kept my eyes locked with his. "You're not going to let me cum are you?" I finally breathed out.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

No, baby.

I couldn't help the smile that graced my face. Because despite knowing I would lose in the grand scheme of things, I was still a glutton for punishment. So, I greedily took everything he gave. Even if it was torture, sweet, maddening torture.

Alaric was satisfied with my resolve, his eyes softened and I closed the space between our lips. The need to please him became overwhelming, "okay, Alaric, I'll be good." I whispered, answering my own question, vocally. 

A deep groan came from his chest and then the beast twisted us. I found myself seated where he had been, my legs spread, pussy exposed and fluttering under his attention. Alaric took my knees, parting my legs further to house his broad shoulders.

Then he lowered his mouth to my core.

His eyes remained on my face as his tongue licked up my arousal. It seemed illegal, how fucking good he looked on his knees, face buried between my thighs. Did he have a fetish for watching, how could he place his entire focus on me, not once straying.

Alaric ate me out like he'd been starved of food for months. It went on and on, he'd bring me to a high before slowing down and lightly flicking my clit until the need to cum was denied.

Begging was no use, it was too easy to, Alaric wanted something else. So I waited, shaking, wet and needy.

I didn't have to wait long. "Say it?" He demanded before taking my clit and rolling his tongue around it.

I wrapped my hand around my mouth, muting the moan.

Unhappy with my response, Alaric stopped. His lips still brushing my pussy lightly. "Say it." He repeated.

"Say what?" I said, trying to move closer to him.

He gripped my hips and held me firmly in place. "No more chasing boys."

This was punishment, punishment for not going home with Alaric, for kissing Lincoln, for taunting the beast. It made me wild, I refused to give in, why make it easy when waving the red flag in front of the bull was far more interesting. "I'd rather no orgasm."

"You enjoy this," Alaric commented.

I smiled down at him, "you know I do... But I think you enjoy it just as much."

"I enjoy it more, Vaela."

Alaric stood, he adjusted us until we were spooning in my small bed. His arms wrapped around me as usual, except tonight they were more decisive in their placement. One hand cupped my womanhood, while the other wrapped around my neck.

* *

One.

Two. 

Three weeks passed. Before I knew it, Alaric had consumed two months of my life. The small taste of pleasure he'd given me remained just that. His mouth, fingers and tongue worked my body each night, over and over until I was lulled to a deep sleep.

He wasn't fighting fair, purposely draining me of energy before I could demand more. It wasn't like I wasn't satisfied with the climaxes he gave me, I was. But it was like eating the same meal over and over after starving for days. Satiating but not enough to kill the desire for change in menu.

Maybe I was greedy, I don't know how much more my body could physically take, he worked it to the point of complete orgasmic bliss. But I'd said it once before, his punishment was enticing and I was an addict for it.

I think that is the only plausible reason I didn't snap when my mother had told me Alaric proposed to her the week prior. It had come as a shock, over dinner. She'd said it so casually, I'd almost missed it.

But when she repeated it and my steak threatened to regurgitate, I realised she wasn't lying. It was another nail to my coffin. Saviour, tormentor, teacher, step-father, just how many lines was I willing to cross for the power I felt in his arms.

Just how long would he play with me? Was I entertainment for him, he knew so much about me yet I'd only seen shadows of the man. We'd fallen into this strange little pattern, where each night he'd gain another truth of mine then he'd fuck me with his mouth or fingers or both before holding me as I slept. Never giving me any pieces of him.

Would he continue doing this after marrying my mother? Their relationship was odd in itself. Alaric wasn't lying when he said he'd never touched her, I'd not once witnessed it and she'd begun going back into the city. Which could only mean one thing, she was fucking some random John for the next hit.

Sometimes I'd hear them fight, after dinner when I'd moved to my room to get ready for bed. My mother would scream and carry on, demanding he give her something whether that was sex or drugs.

Alaric wouldn't say much. He never did, I put that down to the fact that he rarely spoke. Mother never took it too far either, she'd yell and then cry before storming off outside. Then I'd hear the sound of her beat up Hyundai start up. That's why she'd started going back to the city, she couldn't give up what Alaric offered but just like me, it wasn't enough for her.

Alaric was providing for us now, paying off the mortgage for the small cabin, we had more food in the fridge than we'd had in years and the loan sharks no longer fucked my mother for interest on her overdue payments.

So we were stuck like this, Dysfunctional, hidden like a dirty little secret. And, when I questioned him why he was marrying her, Alaric never gave me a comprehensive answer. He would either claim my lips or tell me he was taking care of everything and to not worry my pretty little mind.

If only it was that easy...

Especially today, my bitterness was sour beyond foul. Mother had dressed in white this morning, gripped my forearm and dragged me into the kitchen while Alaric showered. She'd hissed her expectations of a spread fit for her wedding night.

All I could do was nod, even when my skin split and crescent shaped trickles of blood painted my skin.

~ Now ~

I had just placed the final piece of dining wear on the table when the front door slammed open. My mother's loud cackle interrupted the peace, I internally cringed at the sharp tone of her voice. She didn't sound right, her tone more hysterical than normal.

White danced around the room as she entered the kitchen, Alaric followed behind her silently. His eyes found me immediately.

My mother's expression contorted, "why won't you carry me, baby... you're my husband now," she snapped with enlarged pupils and her teeth grinding.

That's when I realised, she was high, really fucking high.

Alaric seemed both irritable and fed up with the manic woman. "Go to bed, Claire." He grumbled, his focus still on me entirely.

"Are you coming?"

"No." Alaric almost snarled like the thought was repulsive.

"You said we'd wait till we were married before you fucked me!" She whined.

My eyes widened. I stepped back and this small shift caught my mother's attention. She turned her cruel expression to me. Then she slowly looked back at Alaric. "Why won't you touch me!" Then she pointed at me, "what you want her tight pussy? Is that it, you want some of that slut."

"Mum, you're tired. Let's get you to bed." I said softly, my cheeks flaming at her words.

I stepped forward, reaching out to direct her towards her bedroom.

A foolish move on my part, I knew better. The first hit came as a shock, her hand rose and stung the skin across my cheek violently. Red hot pain blistered across the skin as I felt the small lacerations from her sharp nails.

Her hand rose once more as she gripped my hair and tugged my head backwards. Before she could slap me once more, Alaric was there. He towered over our bodies, firmly grasping my mother's raised wrist.

"Do it and it'll be the last thing you ever do." Alaric seethed.