Warnings: Incest, blood, dub-con
AN: A one shot I wrote for a friend, and the warnings are there for a reason. You can always complain to me about content, but you're such a wonderful person with so many better things to do with your time, so let's not bother with such things :) Other than that, reviews are always appreciated and welcomed. Thanks and enjoy!
Mummy.
I didn't say it out loud, but I could hear it rattling around in my brain, finding a tone and it resonated into my veins, pounding over and over like the pulse in my temples. Like the rhythmic breathing in the receiver of the rotary phone.
She heard it too, even though it never hit her ears, she knew it was me calling. Maybe it was the blood. Maybe it was the sound of my breath that she recognized, slightly quickened and excited.
"Cruella."
Mother was furious, as always, because I had gotten out again, the second time this month. Like a ghost bleeding through the walls of that attic. She would have to take more precautions to keep me in. To keep control of the one animal she would never own, and that was the real reason she hated me so, that lack of control.
Well, that and the killing.
A smile started to inch across my face.
"I've made a terrible mess." I was beyond the years of my tone, taken with such light childishness, despite my seventeen years.
"What have you done?"
There's no answer to that demand, because I knew better. She didn't really want to know, she cried so hard last time I showed her my mess, cried and screamed and beat me. The third husband. I honestly thought she would have been happy about it, which was the only reason I showed her. He was such a pig with mother, and oh my, he certainly bled like one.
"It was glorious, Mummy…" I sighed into the phone, still riding the high of the evening. "There was a party, and so many handsome men tonight, dancing all night..." My hips swayed, the dress I wore felt heavy and restricting, the dark red blood that had soaked into it causing it to gain in weight. The hand that wasn't holding the phone skimmed its fingers across the wet stain that spread over the expanse of my torso. It made me feel warm, and I smiled. "The music was so loud, though." I closed my eyes and could hear his curses and yelling, the screams. "I wouldn't doubt if someone called the police."
"I should leave you to them." She snapped, voice sounding full of unhinged anger and desperation, emotion choking at the infliction.
A pout pulled at my lip.
"Mummy, I'll be better." The childishness was back in my tone. "Take me home, and you know I'll do better. It was just…" Another sigh, as my mind clouded over again. "There was a party, and so many handsome men…
"I was quite out of my head."
I listened to her breathing this time, short and sharp. Full of fear. It was intoxicating, and it made me wish for the comfort of my house, to see my mother's face. It was the only home I had. She was the only family I had.
"Where?"
I gave her the address and then hung up. My body moved to lie on the floor just as I was before I made my call. Lying on my side, staring into the deep brown eyes that seemed dark and empty, like the comfort of an echo. Oh how they danced for me though. Oh how we danced. So handsome, and spoke so gently. I couldn't resist.
I had to kill him.
Such a waste otherwise.
Eventually I found myself getting up, the newness of his face fading, and Mother would be here soon. I had to clean myself up. Wash my hands and change my dress.
She wasn't fond of the blood like I was.
It tasted metallic in my mouth, and I grew to enjoy the flavor. I would have dreams of my mouth full of pennies, only to wake and find myself chewing on the inside of my cheeks.
Old sores opening, the ones my teeth cut open when her hand struck me across my face.
The slap was especially hard this time, once the uneventful drive home from Oliver's ended with Mother practically throwing me into the attic. The dogs always so close to her side, so I didn't even bother fighting back. Instead I enjoyed the slight taste of blood on my tongue, and the heat shooting across my skin from the impact.
And I laughed, and she didn't expect it. The tension knotting at her shoulders when she saw the sparkle in my eye, it made the dogs start to growl slightly.
Because the dogs could smell fear, and it was coming off of Mother in waves.
"I'll burn it." She finally announced, angry and fire in her eyes. My expression faltered at that. "I'll burn this house and all the sins in it. The evil in the walls…" She began to ramble, started to pace gently, eyes looking everywhere and nowhere all at the same time, until she pinned me down with a frantic glare. "I'll kill us both…I'll kill it."
I rolled my eyes as her sight went elsewhere, continuing on about nonsense and penance. She's tired to burn the house before, with us both in it, some three years ago. The fire department was called in time though, and it was ruled an accident. Mother came to her senses and claimed falling asleep while smoking. I had no urge to repeat that day, it took weeks for the smell of smoke to leave my room.
"Mummy…please, stop." I pleaded gently, forcing my face to soften. She paused in her own personal insanity to look at me suspiciously. "I'll be better."
And it was a promise given so often, and once there was a time that she let me outside if I was convincing enough. That hadn't happened for a very long time though.
"There's nothing better in you." Her voice wavered and choked. My eyes looked at the tendons in her throat and I thought about slitting it for a brief moment before I mentally shook myself back to focus on her eyes.
"You've not visited me in so long." Was my reasoning, and I managed to look ashamed of myself. "You know how I can get…" My hand reached out for hers just as she nervously bit harshly at a well-manicured nail. Bad habits ran in the family. Though, as soon as I got close, I heard the sound of growling at either side of her. It sent a shot of fear through me, the only thing in this beautiful world I was afraid of. Damned mutts. They'd tear out my heart and eat it, if only mother wished it, and mother made sure I knew as much. "Please, send the dogs out." I begged gently, with a soft smile. "There'll be no more trouble from me tonight."
She looked at me for quite a long time, until finally a flick of her wrist and they shuffled away. I heard the click of their paws half way down the stairs, and then stop. They wouldn't stray too far from their master. Just in case she was fool enough to trust me.
This time when my hand reached out, there was no growl, but a cringe from the contact. I ignored it easily, as fingertips traced down the outside of mother's arm, and when I looked at my hand, I saw the blood that was on it just an hour ago. Even though my skin was clean, I remembered when it was soaked, and I imagined trailing it across the sleeve of her dress, and then the skin of her forearm. The thought made me lightheaded.
"You've stayed so far away from my room." The whisper was distracted and breathless, and it caused a gasp in return.
"You know why."
My feet took another step towards her, our bodies almost touching, our height finally matching since last summer. She could no longer look down on me.
"It helps though. I get cold…" Which wasn't true at the moment. My blood felt hot, boiling, skin tingling and body flushed. The night I had with Oliver left my body aching for something…more. "You know…" My head dipped down to whisper in her ear, close enough to see her tensed jaw shaking slightly. "…all we have left is each other."
There was relenting at that, because something my mother and I did share is our hatred of being alone. The isolation forced on me, and hers by choice, caused a madness in itself.
My head dipped into the crook of her neck, her body tensing, then relaxing at the action, shuddering when my breath hit her neck.
Something switched on suddenly in her brain—or perhaps switched off, because she was shrugging her shoulders away from my lips right before they were to make contact.
"Darling, stop."
My hands didn't let her get far, gently wrapping around her hips and following her steps back.
It was like dancing.
"What's one more secret to add to your attic?"
She laughed lightly at that, just as my hands curled into fists and started to pull at the material of her dress. There was no humor in her voice, but there was plenty in my smirk.
"They'll worship you in hell." Mother spit the words out at me, attempting to take another step back, but my hands had her now, claws in deep. She let her guard down and now I'm inside. Deep, deep down, where our blood lies. And I've always had a bit of problem with bloodlust.
"Including you?" I said with a bit of a pout, her face falling terribly serious at that. "Would you worship me?" Just those words forming out of my lips, just the idea of her so submissive to me, on her knees and pleading, it caused a shot of arousal to hit me fiercely. I practically moaned.
And when mother kissed me, I did moan, mouth opening to hers easily and quickly, because this was a practiced sort of dance that we've done several times now.
The first time was sloppy and rough, both of us wanting a different kind of release, and neither one of us knowing how to get it. I know she wanted to kill me, she tried to, but I simply laughed in her face—at the irony—the simple humor of it all, Born of an anger and punishment, and once the violent frustration came to a head and dissipated, mother was cracked by it. Her eyes, they looked more like mine every time. It was beautiful, with the way she would judge how I was. I got it from her though, and she knew it. Father always said so.
He always said that I had her eyes.
She pulled away to look down at the new dress I was wearing, as if just noticing it for the first time. Oliver bought it for me, along with a few others, and this one was low at the chest and high at the thighs, sequences and pearls, and a million thoughts running through her head before lips moved down my neck and then back up again behind my ear. The kissing and gentle sucking brought a gasp out of me.
"That feels good." I whispered awkwardly, because that was what they did, when two people did this. I had seen it, watched others do it, and I wanted it to be as close to real as possible. That was part of the fun.
That and the blood that flowed to mother's face—the mortified expression.
"Shut up." She hissed before going back to my neck.
Apparently that made it a little too real for mother. She didn't like when I talked, so I had to make sure to do much more of it. The smile on my face from that discovery carried me to my bed, with the help of her persistence, her hands on me suddenly more angry in its approach. My dress pooling at my feet, nothing more than broken off buttons and ripped material. It was a shame, but there were other things that were stealing my focus.
She pushed me down on my bed, only in my underwear while she climbed over me. I could tell by her harsh and quick kissing, her hands pinning my wrists above my head when I tried to touch her, I could tell she wanted this over quick and with little causality on her side. That was just not acceptable for me. The night had gone so well so far, and I planned on keeping up these personal victories.
"Do you want me to touch you?" My breath hitting her lips as I pulled away from her kiss.
"Shut up." She growled, tightening her grip on my wrists once more, but no denial came from her. She did want me, she just didn't want to admit it. Oh, she was in rare form tonight. How fun.
"Mummy…" I whimpered, arching my chest against hers, and her eyes shut tight, debating and fighting, back and forth with her guilt. Oh, how wrong and sinful, and oh, how boring. "I love you."
Mother looked at me then. And with the cold disbelief, it made me smile—a dark smirk as I lifted my head to brush my lips against her ear. "Feel how much I love you."
Her thigh actually pushed against me, as my hips pushed up, and I moaned at the friction, an automatic rhythm starting between the two of us. She thought she was winning, if she could one up every attempt at humiliating her, if she could prove I don't bother her a bit. But all it did was destroy her more, so either way, I win.
Once she was distracted enough, I twisted my hands out of her grip, moving my grip to her hips, kissing her once again. Her balance was put off by that, trying to gain a footing back, but I only took more as I turned us over, setting myself between her legs. Tonight was special, it was mine, so I wanted this to go how I planned it. I wanted the control tonight. This was the only time I could gain any of her, and tonight, I wasn't going to let it go to waste. She must have sensed as much, or perhaps that loneliness was eating away at her a bit too much these days, because she barely fought it. Just another slap across my face at the audacity, and then I was kissing her, and it was nothing but whimpers after that, while I pulled away her cloths, everything falling away from her, all her walls and protection. Until there was just her, so scared and small. I was scared of her as a child. The thought of it now made me laugh.
My hands moved over her body, mouth following ever scorching touch, burning and boiling between us. She gripped tight at the sheets when my fingers found their place between her legs, her body betraying her protests, arching up into my touch. I'm gentle with her, because it hurts her more that way, much more than if I drew the blood I wished for.
While my mouth was on her breast, her hands suddenly in my hair, I knew that I wanted more. More of her. Soak in the suffering that was radiating off of her. It wasn't a new thought, because she had done it to me once before, when I was taking too long to finish, according to her reasoning after the fact. Oh, it took no time at all when her mouth moved between my legs, all control given up and forgotten, only leaving what she was making me feel.
I was more than eager to try it on her, but her allowing me to touch her was a rare occurrence, and I was pushing my luck as it was. I was in rare form tonight though, and with the high I was riding, the chariots of hell itself couldn't stop me.
When my body started to move lower, away from her breasts, down her stomach, it took her a few moments to realize my path. Once it was discovered though, her hands grabbed at my shoulders, nails digging in so quickly and harshly, I was sure there was blood.
A moan pulled its way out of my throat.
"Not there…" Mother gasped, her eyes closed, my mouth already so close to purchase. "Please, you can't—"
Her weak protesting was easily ignored as I wondered what it tasted like, wondered if it would be something familiar. I felt her tighten when my breath hit her wet folds, so I pushed my fingers apart to stretch her a little more.
"Cruella—! Please…"
"The magic word." I whispered, slowly running my tongue over her hooded clit, her hips pushed into my mouth despite the 'no, no, no's' pouring quietly from her lips.
There was a sweetness to the taste, and something else.
Something that reminded me of blood. That spurred me on like fire at my heels, pulling my fingers away completely and replacing them with my tongue, drinking in her taste and becoming drunk off the pleas and moans coming from her.
My moans joined her, even if they were muffled, when I moved my fingers between my legs. The ones still soaked from her, I pushed them inside me, and I saw stars.
Moments of sensory overload caused me to run on my adrenaline, detached and frantic, moving my tongue against her to the pace of her hitching breath, sucking at her as she sucked in the moans and whimpers that cracked in the air between us. Moments turned into nothing, and it was forever and no time at all until our eyes met, and she climaxed from that alone. It didn't take me long after, my breath against her wet thighs, fingers rubbing frantically to bring myself over that edge.
My body crawled up hers as aftershocks rolled over me, laying on my side to stare into her tearful eyes. Such a gift to see her cry, and it's not even my birthday.
"Are you cold?" I whispered, making no move to grab a blanket to cover us with.
"Always."
I smiled.
I knew the feeling.
Later that night, as I laid wrapped in sheets and her body next to me, I wondered what it was to have the guilt that she had. I wondered if it would kill her, or maybe just hollow out her insides. Make her just like me, and wouldn't that be fun? A playmate all my own?
Or perhaps she would let the guilt will eat away at her, make her do something foolish, like when she married 'daddy' number three. Another husband, and I could watch him have his way with her, just as I did with the last one. And he would know, before the life drained out of him,
He would know what I know; that she was mine.
My blood.
We were the same, her and I, and she could lock away her secrets all she wanted.
But mother would still come back here.
Just to look into my eyes, and to see herself.
end.