I had once watched a few movies dealing with Hannibal Lector: Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Red Dragon. This man was an absolute genius. Mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, he was everything a Tzimisce such as I would look for in a prospective childe. I, of course, knew of him before these movies and these books. Truthfully... I am a bit disappointed that his domitor never sired him before his prime. Yes, Hannibal was a ghoul, perhaps even a revenant. Ah, well. Perhaps there would be another sometime. Nevertheless... During one incident he had someone take drugs and cut off his own face; quite similar to something I'd done before, though this was their genitalia. I used these same drugs upon the male I had within my little play room. Poppers I believe they were called; reminded me of party favors that pop and spew out confetti - which would make perfect sense of their nick name. They induced in him a euphoric state, leaving him giddy and, to be truthful, rather annoying.
Side note: No more poppers.
I had melded his mouth shut, mainly because he kept babbling on about his family, something I truly did not wish to know - not at that moment anyway. If this was a completely different situation I would have taken advantage of his state and found out all I could, just to torture him later with the information. There was no need. He was going to die anyway. As for my little female friend, she was still out, but beginning to come to. I stepped over to the male, checking upon his status, only to be greeted with a peal of muffled giggles. I have never heard a man giggle; well, save for Amadeus, but that was an unusual case anyway. Safe to say, men should not giggle. At all. It is perhaps the only thing that can make me shudder. Frightening, really. He was still high, enjoying the sensation as it coursed through veins and brain matter - what was left of it, anyway. Pulling him to his feet, I settled him against the table, letting him lean listlessly. It was a lean that didn't last very long, for the moment my hands left his arm he thumped back upon the table and began laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes. I simply shook my head.
My attention was brought back by the faint sound at my flank: my little miss was waking up. I glanced over my shoulder, checking upon her before returning my attention to the male, and drug him further up the table. I could imagine someone looking upon me, noting my precise movements, as if I had done this many times before. In truth... I had. He was strapped to the table, securely. I did not wish my subject to roll around and disrupt not only my thinking, but also what I was doing.
"Wha--what?" was the first thing out of her mouth. Not quite the most intelligent of statements, but it let me know she was almost fully conscious. I stepped over to her bound form and slid my fingers along her skin, feeling its texture once again beneath the caress. Another light sound came from her and she shifted. There is a point between wakefulness and slumber where the senses are stronger, where the mind heightens them, and twists it to what they want to believe. As I drew my hand along the slope of her thigh, upward toward her waist, I began to wonder just what she was thinking about, what she was imagining. With the way her hips shifted, I could guess.
I had once stated, and will now reiterate, that there is a thin line between pleasure and pain. Often people like to push their limits. Or even go past them. Pleasure. Pain. It all goes through the same nerve center. There are many different types of each. At that time she was experiencing the most subtle; a light brush of fingers along certain points that would bring her either closer to being completely awake, or drown her within the depths of sensation. People constantly pay attention to the most obvious spots on a woman's body: her breasts, neck, rear and genitalia. What of the inside of her elbow? That little dip just below the lower lip? Even places as obscure and unorthodox as a kiss to the Achilles Heel can bring pleasure to someone, man or woman. I did not know these spots to be a good lover. Truly, I could not care less about intercourse. I get nothing from it, save for adrenaline-laced blood should I desire to feed. It is all a game to me. The end justifies the means, and if I feel I must accomplish the end I wish by way of 'killer sex' then so be it. I do it to know. To learn. To manipulate. To kill. In the end it is always one thing. To control. Through control comes the pursuit of power.
Each shift of her hips, each shudder, the flush of her flesh gave me the reactions I sought. Inconspicuous spots met the skilled touch of my fingers, and then I went for the not-so-subtle areas. With the drag of my hand up her inner thigh and its subsequent cupping at their apex she came fully awake with a sharp gasp. "Ah, finally. I was wondering how long it would take before you came to." Ipaused and smiled. "Or simply came."I drew my hand away slightly and she whimpered, slumping back against the table. It took her a few moments to gather her surroundings, and when she was completely aware she looked upon me with fear. This is what I call a changeover, when the body stops betraying the mind and everything that is reality causes minor - or even extreme - shock. I once had a subject go into cardiac arrest when he woke and remembered what I had him do. While it was amusing, I was a bit disappointed that I did not get to see that final light.
"Meuric, please, let me up." Ah, the pleading. Always the pleading. Human emotions vary, and rather quickly. I have noticed that lust can turn to fear, then anger, and then terror all in one minute. Truthfully, the same can happen with Cainites as well. Such as humanesque Camarilla. Though it is quite interesting when I get my hands upon a member of Caine's Sword and they begin spouting blood tears, babbling about how they used to steal cookies from the jar on top of the fridge and urinate in their beds. It is pathetic to see such things from proclaimed strong and dangerous individuals. I tend to put these ones out of their misery quickly before they damage the Sabbat. Strength is what we need. Do I kill them? Oh no, not at all. They're turned into szlachta. The willful ones are broken and sometimes lobotomized. Those particular beasts are too stupid to die. The others are usually bound to me, or those of us in the city. "Why would I want to do such a thing as that?" A lone tear ran down the side of her face and I detachedly watched the crystalline rivulet bathe a path along her skin then disappear into the darkness of her crimson hair. My gaze then flicked back to hers.
"Come now. I have not even done anything yet and you are sobbing. Has it crossed your mind that I am only asserting my dominance by binding you thus?" A gave a dismissive gesture to the table she was tied to, then folded my arms over my chest with a sideward tilt of my head. She didn't say anything; she was too busy trying to take control of her tears and make herself appear strong. Uncaring. Another changeover. "You frightened me for a moment there." I smiled. She was attempting to still her voice, to get rid of the trembling, but could not. I wanted to say she should be frightened, though that would have been so cliché. The demon that binds the helpless victim trying to place fear into them by such simple words. I believe actions speak louder than words. I slid my hand up again between her thighs, fingers delving deep as my thumb kneaded against sensitive nerves. She canted her chin, dragging in a deep, shuddering breath. "Is this what you wanted? What you have waited for, for so long?" From lust, to fear, to semi-control, to lust. And some Cainites wonder why I bother with mortals. They're so deliciously entertaining! Her mind was gone, off in la-la land, taking the Good Ship Lollipop and sailing away. I did not let the wind current take her too far. Again I drew my hand back, slick and glistening with her desire.
"GOD!" It was good that she figured out my name so quickly. "You're torturing me." There was that temptation to assert that I was no where near torturing her, though I maintained my silence. This time it was the sound from my dear male friend that brought her back from that soft wave of comfort. She glanced over after fluttering open her eyes and stiffened with another look up toward me. Considering she was not screaming, I could only guess that she had not seen his flesh-sealed mouth. Excellent, I did not need her to go into hysterics too quickly. I was out of poppers. "What is he doing here?" Still I said nothing, only left my eyes to remain upon her own, watching the flickers of emotion that went past the dark gaze. Her lips faintly parted and she glanced to the male again then back to me. I began to wonder what she was thinking. Could it be she thought that we both were going to have turns with her? And if so, was she beginning to get aroused by that thought? I took in a faint breath, gathering the scents around me with a preternaturally keen sense, heightened further by vampiric abilities. By what I smelled, it was a very good possibility.
"What do you think?" That cold, logical tone came to my voice. Studious of her words, expression and overall body language. She began to speak, but then paused as I brought my hands to my shirt and gave it a sharp upward tug, releasing the bottom half from the line of belt and pants waistline. I then began unbuttoning the cloth from neck down, watching her still, unblinking. She probably did not notice. It did not matter. At these times I did not bother to conceal what I am. Then again, I rarely did, only when it truly mattered. Once the article of clothing was loosened and shrugged off of my shoulders I folded it up and rested it aside. Think what she will, it was so I did not get the expensive cloth dirty. "I... I don't know," she whimpered.I smiled again.
"We had a conversation long ago," I did not touch her as I spoke; I wanted her attention to be fully upon me and not what I was doing, or the sensations rushing through every nerve of her body. With the way she laid there, watching me, I could tell I held her focus. "About justice. You were raped once before, correct?" From lust, to cold fury. Her head nodded, and a slow frown began to form upon her face as she flashed another glance toward the male who was still turned away from her then she looked again to me. One thing I found curious: here she was bound, naked, at my whim and will, yet she was completely and fully taken with the idea. Then again, it could be the simple fact that she knew me. I nodded to her silence then stepped away from her to turn back to my other subject. Laying my hands upon his mouth his lips were brought back to normal. At least he ceased giggling. "I have a choice for you tonight, my little Dominya." Moving around to the other side of the table, putting him between her and me, I looked over to her, taking a hold of the male's shaggy hair. When I turned his head, the expression that crossed her face was priceless.
It was unbridled fury I saw as I revealed to her… her rapist.
"You will decide if you will allow him to touch you again so that he might live and face the justice system of the law. Or I will be your savior, and do anything you wish for me to do to him." This was a moral test. She believed that everyone did things for a reason. Sometimes they let their emotions get the best of them and woke the next morning wondering what caused them to do what they had done the night prior. This was before this man took it upon himself to infect her with his seed. This was a test I have never done before. Would she allow him to do so and try to see just what he would do, if he would refuse? Or would she have me kill him without finding out if he had meant to touch her as he did? Her response somewhat surprised me, even if I was ready for it.
"Le--" her voice caught in a choke, as if the simple thought and words disgusted her. "Let him. I... I can't take vengeance on m--my own. Let jail deal with him." I tilted my head again, waiting to see if she had anything more to say. Pulling her gaze away from the man she looked up at me, smiling a cold smile. "He just might get in spades what he has done to me." In truth, I was hoping she would say that. My expectations of her grew just a bit more with that phrase. I nodded and began removing the binds that held him down. The drug had worked its way slowly from his system, leaving him a bit more conscious of what was going on. As well as what I told him earlier.
When he began to slide off of the table she looked away, closing her eyes tightly. I took this time to force my fingers into his mouth and graft his tongue to the roof of it, just so he could not speak of what I had told him. Quietly, then I spoke. "Remember what I had said. What you do next will speak of your end." In ill-masked terror he looked upon me. He knew what I was, of course. I ensured he did. And he knew what I was capable of. His choice was clear; Take her again and go free from here, yet be victim to the justice system -- goodness knows how many times and ways he would be abused behind bars -- or do not and suffer by my eager hands.
It was all just one... little... game.