"Stay still."

Shell's squirming immediately stops at my command, though I know it's going to happen again. We haven't even properly started yet; I've just finished tying the ropes.

They're probably tighter than needs be, and I've used strong, hard ropes - meant for actual work rather than a playroom - so they definitely hurt a bit. But that's the point. I told him to stay still, no bucking, no grinding, no pressing into my touch; the ropes are there to help with that, because Shell is very much a wiggler and I know it would be next to impossible for him to stay still without them. He may like punishment, but that doesn't mean I need to give him unreasonable commands.

I step back and survey the vampire with a smirk: sprawled eagle on his stomach, chest rising and falling quickly with anticipation, a blush on his ivory cheeks that spreads all the way down to his chest, erection heavy and red between his legs with the smallest pearly bead adorning the swollen tip; all of him exposed and vulnerable, just for me. I bend down to press a kiss to his ankle, just above the rope binding him, before striding across the room.

When we built this new house in the South we were sure to include a playroom for us, bringing all of Shell's toys from the Midlands down to the dark room since he hardly has use for them up there anymore without me around. I head to the chest of drawers, neatly organised - a drawer for gags, one for ropes, another for coiled whips and straps, a fourth for leashes and collars, the bottom and largest for the many leather outfits Shell has an overwhelming affinity for buying. Hooks line the wall nearby, scourges, switches, and crops of all different deep colours hanging from them. A rig is attached to the ceiling for bondage in upright positions; a thick pole across the room is also for more creative ways of tying.

I light the two red amber scented candles on top of the chiffonier. I haven't decided if I'll be using wax for this session - it's one of Shell's favourites but it's good to leave routine behind now and then, even if our normal routine is very different from most. I shed my light muslin shirt before taking a cedar switch from the wall, smacking it against my hand just hard enough to make a noise. I look over my shoulder as I do and see Shell shiver with excitement.

I can't help a soft smile. He trusts me; he will never let anyone else do these things to him, only me. Only I can fully satisfy his needs.

His body jerks when I bring the switch down on his bare buttocks, ropes digging into his wrists and ankles. I lean down to breathe hotly in his ear, "Still," then hit him with the wooden rod again. This time only a soft gasp escapes him, fangs visible when he bites down on his plump lips.

I raise a brow at that and hit him harder. "I said to keep still, not quiet." Two blows from the switch emphasis my command and Shell weakly whimpers out, "M-master…" in meek reply.

A tear drips down his cheek when he blinks and part of me panics - only for a moment though. He has his word, and more importantly he has come to accept that he has limits. I don't have to worry about hurting him any more than he can want or take.

The next hits are lower, almost at the top of his thighs. His whimpers get higher in pitch, punctuated by nearly feminine moans. I can see his body slacken as I count off twenty blows. There it is. Submit. Let me take you apart with fiery pain and put you back together with sweet pleasure. Submit. I know what you want, what you need; I will give it to you; I will take care of you. All you need to do is submit.

And by time I've gotten to the thirtieth smack of the switch, he has. Shell is completely relaxed beneath me, his master, limp in his bonds now. His rosy cock weeps out onto the black sheets, staining them even darker. He shudders when I caress his angry red bottom. He's so close to the brink of release it must be painful.

I grab a vial of oil from the bedside table; I pour a copious amount over my first two fingers then watch as thick droplets fall onto Shell's abused ass. He lets out a small whine but the cool oil has to soothe his hot skin, even if only minutely.

"Master!" Shell croons when I ease my fingers into him. A moment to let him adjust before I crook my fingers and-

"Master! Ah! M-master!" Shell comes with a shout, his flushed body shuddering with the pleasure. His hips unintentionally push back into my hand before I withdraw my fingers.

Now when his arched back flops down onto the mattress it is from exhaustion. His eyelids drop over his bright green irises, always so ready for a nap after a heavenly orgasm. But he can't sleep yet, not until I've cleaned him up and taken full care of him - his needs don't end with his masochism; he needs someone who knows how far he can go, who will rub salves onto his red wounds, who will shower him with kisses and praise; his needs are not only sexual, but emotional as well. I am more than happy to fulfill every last one of them. I untie him and kiss the red rings around his wrists, souvenirs of our time together for him when he returns to the Midland. I lift his tired body into my arms and he immediately nuzzles himself into the crook of my neck, an arm lazily flopping over my shoulder to pull me closer. I carry him to the adjoining bathroom, shedding my trousers before I step into the shower with Shell cradled against my chest. The water is a bit cold for my liking but a pleasant temperature for Shell, that's what matters right now. He makes a content noise, almost like a purr, as I towel him off. After I cover his sore bottom with a generous amount of balm I take him upstairs, laying in bed with him, the rising sun just barely peeking through the curtains.

Shell traces his fingers across my cheekbones languidly, our legs intertwined, chests pressed together so tightly I can feel his heartbeat. "Eric," he hums, sleepy tone full of affection. "You're so good to me-" he interrupts himself with a yawn. "I love you, Eric."

I feel a warmth in my chest at his words, a warmth I tried so hard to deny myself for so long. Now I let it in gratefully. It's been so long since I've let myself love, and been loved in return; now I can't believe I ran for so long. I brush his wet bangs back and kiss his forehead. "I love you too."

We lay in silence for a long while, watching the sun come up through a small gap in the curtains. When I figure Shell is fast asleep I close my eyes and prepare to join him before he whispers in a small voice, "I'm going to have to go soon."

A melancholy sigh escapes me and I tighten my arm around his waist, reluctantly to let him go. I hate having to live like this, yet it's better than all the other alternatives. Still I almost find myself wishing for the days when we had to hide so carefully from the prying eyes of society, keeping our affections behind locked doors. I hate having to be so far from him with the majority of our interactions happening through letters (some of Shell's are tear stained, I know this is so much harder on him than it is on me) with only a few stolen days in between. But it's for the best for our world; our sacrifice has saved so many lives. Still I can't help but feel bitter about it sometimes. "I know you will. I'll write you all the time."

"I know. I just wish I could have more than letters sometimes." whispers Shell as he tucks his head beneath my chin. I feel wetness press into my chest and kiss the top of his head.

"You can stay one more day." One more day. It sounds like both salvation and damnation. One more day with the love of my life, yet at the same time only one more. "Tonight we can go swimming." I offer, getting a large pout in return from the vampire.

"The salt water will hurt my ass."

I chuckle, giving his bottom a light squeeze that is replied with by a pleasantly surprised moan. "Shut up, you pervert. You like it."

When Shell insists on keeping his pout up, I lean down to press a kiss to his soft lips. "Go to sleep, I know you're tired." I whisper after pulling back slowly.

And he does so easily, drifting off in the safety of my arms.