It's About Power

Chapter 6

I would have to enjoy it. When Bill wasn't ignoring me or treating me like a thing, he was using me as a toy for his sexual adventures. I won't admit that I hated all of them. Sometimes I found the thrill of the activity appealing, even enjoyable. The kick of the endorphin rush was a surprising reaction to a variety of otherwise painful stimuli. Sometimes my sexual excitement would be foremost in his mind, and he would do everything in his power to bring me to the point of climax. I would hover on the brink for hours, and sometimes he would even let me step over the wall. The orgasms were few, like super-fatty chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and cheesecake and whipped cream. I'd fall back into his arms as though I were drifting on a cloud of ecstasy. This was what drug comas felt like, I was sure of it. I'd heard about V and all that it did to humans. Well, I didn't need to suck Bill's blood to experience the utmost incredible pleasure. I just needed one opportunity to experience a really great orgasm.

Those moments were few and far between, and that made me value them. Most of the time, I hovered in a state of abject need to please. I worried about what I might have done wrong, what I might have forgotten to do, what could set him off. More than that, though, I worried about what he had in mind for me on the nights that he wanted to spend in the bedroom. I was a virgin when I met Bill, inexperienced and unprepared. He was always coming up with something new, something I knew very little about. I can pick brains, and I'm certainly not a dummy when it comes to sex. Heck, every time I was with Bill, I learned some completely new way in which to please a man. If I'm ever with anyone else, I know those skills will come in handy. I bet you I know things you don't know. Still, some fantasies are meant to remain fantasies.

On a quiet Thursday, several months into our relationship, Bill carried me up the stairs to the bedroom. His tenderness was unbelievable, and I hoped that I was in for one of his special treats, the nights he devoted to me. I always started out on those nights feeling awkward. I wasn't supposed to be in the driver's seat. I didn't like telling him what to do, where to go, how to please me. My pleasure wasn't important. Worst of all, I hated having his tongue pushed between my thighs. I couldn't stand the thought of it. I felt like I was in control, and that scared me more than anything in the world. I didn't want to be in control. Bill was holding the reins. I was the thing under the saddle.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights. Bill had something else in mind. The devious smile on his face told me he was planning something, that perhaps he'd been planning it for a long time. I didn't know what he had been waiting for. He had never showed any concern for my readiness. I was always, at least outwardly, willing. If he ever realized I wasn't actually in favor of his treatment, he didn't show it.

"Sookie," he said to me. He kissed my mouth, my chin, my neck. He ripped my nightgown from me like it was made of tissue paper.

"Bill," I murmured. His fangs grazed my shoulder. His fingers dove between my thighs.

"We're going to do something new tonight," he growled. "It will bring me great pleasure."

Bill was a smart man. He had only to say that whatever we were about to do would excite him, and I was moldable putty in his hands. He scooped me up and laid me out on my grandmother's quilt. It had been cold for months now, and the radiator in the room kept the blanket surprisingly warm. I nestled into it, but I wasn't comfortable. Bill knelt on the bed between my thighs. He stroked my lips, pressing his fingers between them, pinching me so I would squeak with delight. My knees quivered. He unbuttoned and removed his pants, and I could see his cock bouncing up between his thighs. His was the only penis I'd ever touched, the only one I'd ever licked or kissed, sucked on or been slapped across the face by. Part of me loved it, and part of me hated it. I would hate it more after tonight. I would love it less.

Vampire Bill was hard and ready and unwilling to wait. He pulled my hips up off the bed and thrust into me. I moaned aloud, peeking up briefly at his face to see the wild fervor of lust in his eyes. When I was satisfied that he was happy, I shut my eyes and turned my head away. I rolled on the wave of his hips, trying to extract my own pleasure from them. I focused on him. I listened to his voice. His hands were fierce on my thighs as he held me up to him. My skull bounced and rolled on the pillow tucked beneath my head. It would have been wonderful if it was just this, but I knew it wouldn't be. He had told me we were going to do something new. This wasn't new.

As if he'd been reading my mind, Bill wrapped his hands tightly around me and flipped me over, still pinned to his cock, still riding the roll of his body. I let out a yelp of surprise, though he'd done similar moves in the past. Try getting used to someone with superhuman strength flipping you over when you least expect it. See how you like it. I buried my head in the pillows, my face turned in one direction so that I could breathe. From here, I could see into the bathroom, and my silhouette reflected in the mirror. I turned my head away, and I shut my eyes.

Cold, wet saliva dropped down onto my skin, and Bill's fingers pressed between my buttocks. He rubbed the sensitive and much smaller exit hole of my anus and I froze. No movement. Not a single solitary heartbeat. I squirmed away. I tried to make a run for it. I was absolutely not going to do that. Bill's hand wrapped firmly around my ankle and he yanked me back, forcing his cock deeper into me. He continued to rub my flesh. I writhed.

"No," I said. I tried to be firm, but my voice quivered like a shaking rattlesnake tail.

"Did I ask?" he grunted. One of his fingers pushed inside me. I yelped, more from fear and worry than actual pain. If I was really in pain, I couldn't tell. The whole experience felt inhuman. I needed to be away. His dick still pistoned in and out of me and I barely noticed it.

"I don't want to. I can't… I can't do this."

"Sookie," he whispered in my ear. He leaned over me, his chest against my spine. I instantly curled into him. Where I was warm, he was cold. "We'll just try it. I know you'll like it if you just give it a chance. Just relax, baby. If, after we try it, you don't like it, I'll stop. Just tell me and I'll stop."

"I…" I shut my eyes. He felt so strong and safe against my skin. He was still inside me, his penis, his finger. I tried to numb the fear of it. What harm was there in trying it? I was a big girl. I was brave. I could be brave.

"It would make me so happy if you just gave it a try," he concluded. He sucked lightly on my earlobe. He kissed my neck and smelled my hair.

"Okay," I exhaled. I could just try it. I could learn to like it if I just gave it a try.

He added more saliva. Another drop of it oozed down my skin and briefly lubricated the flesh of my backside. He worked his finger deeper inside me. It was the world's strangest feeling. I couldn't even describe it to someone that hadn't experienced it. It wasn't exactly painful, but it certainly wasn't what I would call pleasant. He moved his one long finger in and out of me. I closed my eyes. I tried to think about his cock inside me, not his finger wiggling around. I tried to think about anything else, anything at all. Jason had been at the bar today. He'd come by with some girl he'd been screwing. I couldn't remember her name. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair and sparkling green eyes. I'd read her thoughts, mostly because I was curious as to what she thought of Jason. I remembered that she liked pickles and thought my brother was great lay, but had about six brain cells between his ears. I liked her instantly, and I only half-charged her sandwich. It takes a lot for me to give a fifty percent discount on food, but that girl, she deserved it. She was a smart cookie.

I couldn't ignore him anymore, and I lifted my head. I pushed my upper body off the mattress and I leaned on my wrists. My body and mind were screaming no. No, absolutely not, no way, not going to happen. He forced his way inside of me because, let's face it, the only way you fit a cucumber through a pinhole is if you force it. I expected some sort of popping noise, like an air bubble. There was no such noise. Instead, I only heard my teeth gnash together. It took every ounce of willpower not to scream right there and there, to say no out loud again, to tell him I absolutely was not willing to do this. Not now. Not ever.

My pleasure wasn't important. I wanted to please him. I didn't want to disappoint him.

He moved slowly in and out of me, stroking my spine with casual fingers. He seemed to be trying to soothe me, but how you do you keep a cringing dog safe? I was deeply miserable, confused, scared, and sad. I wanted to curl into the corner, to bury my head and cry. He was so slow, so deliberately aware of me. If he cared enough to do it this way, how could I deny him?

"You're doing so well, baby," he murmured. He took a piece of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers.

"I just want you to be happy," I whispered, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

"I am happy," he said.

I let him continue. He picked up his rhythm. I knew the slowness, the tenderness, couldn't last forever. I bit my lip and held onto the corners of the pillow. I couldn't tell him no. He'd been so good to me, so kind and gentle. He'd be so disappointed if I turned him down now. He'd cast me off again. He'd abandon me. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to be with him. I buried my head in my pillow. Bill picked up speed again.

When it was over, and he came, buried deep inside me, he pulled slowly out. He leaned over my spine and turned over to lie on his side. I turned over and buried my face in the well of his clavicle. There, tucked against the cool skin of my vampire lover, I began to weep. And then I bawled. Bill's fingers brushed through my hair. He let me cry, uninterrupted, into his skin, for several minutes. Finally, he tucked the crook of his forefinger under my chin and lifted my face to his. I looked at his nose. I couldn't meet his eyes.

"What is it, Sookie?" He asked me. His voice was watery, and I couldn't tell if he was concerned or frustrated. Did he understand the depth of human emotion? If I explained myself to him, would he know to show remorse?

"I don't know," I sighed between sobs. Truth be told, I didn't know. Something was wrong, but what was it? I'd done so well. I'd pleased him. I'd put myself last. I'd kept my own needs unimportant. I drew my pleasure from that.

"Then why are you crying, baby?" He brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumb, but I replaced them with fresh ones.

"I don't know." I said again. "I can't stop."