Le Petite Mort by The Copyright Cat
email: CopyrightCat@msn.com
As I rush through the dark streets, intent on my mission, mindless to the flow of people streaming past me, I hear only the sound of my hurried footsteps and the intake of my own breath. Already my hunger is hard upon me.
The long shadow of an aged barn fills the path before me. Making my way to the front of the worn structure, I gaze at the man revealed in the fluttering amber light of a lantern beneath the arms of a colossal oak. My heart leaps as he senses my silent presence and turns to welcome me.
"You're so cold, Darling," he says, taking my cool hands in his. "Let me warm you a bit."
Pulling me into his warm embrace, his lips cover mine and all my fears and anxieties from the outside world seem to fade away. My fingers slip through his graying hair and caress the smooth skin at the back of his neck. Ravenous desire coils in my belly as I inhale his rich male scent.
Taking my hand in his, he leads me across the dry earth to a kitchen chair with a high, straight back and smooth honey finish, resting against one of the oak tree's mighty branches. With a small elegant gesture, he beckons me to stand beside the chair. Seating himself comfortably and leaning his head back, he speaks to me. "Give me your clothes."
I feel his gaze burning into my skin as he watches the ritual of my disrobing. I hand him each element of my clothing, enchanted as he presses them to his face inhaling my scent, then dropping them one by one into the familiar valise at his feet.
As I stand revealed before him, I feel no hint of shame in regard to my body, no disgrace in my nakedness, only the echo of his utter indulgence in my being. Hunger sprints up my spine, wailing for release.
Trembling, I strive to subdue my appetite. Cupping my face in his hands, he pulls me into another kiss. The fire of my passion multiplies, raising a silent cry in my breast as I battle the raging predator inside me.
He kisses me softly, then more urgently, his tongue pushing insistently into my mouth. I nurse at his lower lip, pulling it between my teeth and biting lightly. As I slide my tongue into his mouth to taste his blood, a low growl of warning sounds in the back of his throat. With a swift movement he grasps my hair, forcing my head back.
"Eva--" Reproach flickers in his dark eyes as I lick the scant trace of his blood from my lips.
His resolute hand directs me to kneel before him. As my knees touch the cold earth, hot shame floods my face. I know I have disappointed him. Once again, I curse the calamity of my character. I lay my cheek to his thigh and wait, dreading the anticipation of his discipline, yet rejoicing that his care for me requires it.
The hot flash of the crop across my back strikes a chord in my heart. My vicious lust retreats slightly, allowing me to gather the remaining shreds of my self-control.
When the rain of blows cease, I feel him warm and male against my cheek. Not trusting my instincts, I hold myself still and await his will. My heart sinks when the scent of worn leather fills my nostrils; I had so much wanted to prove myself to him.
He lifts me then to straddle his thighs. Arms encircling me and capturing my hands, he bends my arms behind my back, tightly securing each wrist to the opposite forearm with leather straps and buckles. We both know that the bonds are more of a reminder than a restraint; as insignificant to my strength as a string around my finger.
I lay my head upon his shoulder as he strokes my back and buttocks. I can feel him hard against my underbelly and cry out when he finally slips deep inside me. His fingers wind into my long hair and pull back my head, exposing my neck.
He bites at my throat in an intentional parody of my inclinations, moving to my collarbone and down to my breasts, biting brutally at my flesh, again and again. The assault on my body and the motion of his cock inside me kindles the glowing embers of my longing, fanning the riotous sparks of my burning hunger.
I am weak and disorientated. Famished. Tormented. The pinpoint of light from the lantern tilts then spins around me in a lazy circle.
Pressing my face to his neck, he whispers, "Drink, darling."
In the span on a single heartbeat, I puncture his flesh with a fierce bite. The slick warmth of his blood trickles across my tongue, its thick wetness maddening me further. This profound act of his indulgence allows me to gaze upon the remarkable frailty of his mortality, forging a bond between us that transcends the laws of nature. I thrust my hips against his; sliding back and forth in a crazed, blind rhythm. The ecstasies of bloodlust echoing the sharp sting of my bodies' rapture.
The heat of our desire overtakes us, and his hoarse cry is lost in the noise of thunder. I wrench my fangs from his throat. I want more--I need more-- but more I must not take. Pride resonates in his eyes as I deliver a taste of his own flesh in our final kiss. The sky cracks open above us and rain pours down, extinguishing the lanterns' flame and bathing the blood from his wound.
***
We lay upon the fragrant hay, damp and sated, my skin suffused with the pink blush of my Beloved's blood. He warmed from our lovemaking and I by the taste of life he gave to me. At these times, I feel almost mortal.
His hands are never still, stroking and touching me. "Do you want to hunt, Eva?"
Motionless, I consider my reply. "I do not want to leave you."
"That is not the question I asked," he says quietly. "You have not hunted for three days, yes?"
"Yes."
"Do you wonder why I require that of you?" he asks, sitting up to look into my eyes. "Why you must refrain from feeding before we are together?"
"Because I am weaker when I have not fed, and of less danger to you."
I see the flash of the wound at his throat as he throws back his head in laughter, the raw mark of my feeding already fading to a small bruise. "No, my Darling, it is not so you are weak, but so that your hunger for me is stronger."
His fingers trace the curve of my cheek. "How hard you struggle with yourself. How breathtaking when you yield in your most needful moment."
The smile he wears is contagious and I return it, loving the way he praises me. Bending towards me, his lips brush my chin on his way to whisper in my ear. "I am delighted by your hunger and I adore your surrender to me." A soft bite on the skin beneath my chin, "You will take me with you when you hunt tonight."
"Why?" bolting upright and pushing him aside easily. "No!"
"Yes, Eva, " he says evenly. His hand gripes my wrist tightly as he pulls me closer to meet his steadfast eyes.
My heart thumps in panic. What would he think if he saw me hunt? I shake my head slowly, "No. Please. I do not want you to."
He strokes the inside of my wrist, and then brings it to his lips and bites at the thin, tender flesh. "You will show me. Tonight."
***
The rain is of little comfort as we walk through the busy downtown streets. The stink of traffic and too many human beings assails us despite the cleansing mist. His exaggerated presence beside me has thrown me off my mark. The taxi dropped us some time ago and I am wandering randomly, deliberately prolonging the hunt and the moment when he will see me in my most bestial aspect.
I am angry with this man, this mortal. I have already revealed so much; I resent his demanding this as well. I resolve to make this quest as distasteful for him as possible.
Smiling to myself, I increase the pace; I know now where we shall go.
As the busy streets become less populated, the decay of the area is as obvious by its stench, as by the bars on the storefront windows. The forgotten homeless sprawl in the damp darkness between streetlights, their wounded eyes following our inexplicable presence.
At last, I pause near a long abandoned tenement house. Its hollow window frames resemble dark gaping mouths and offer little hope of respite from the night's icy air. Closing my eyes, I reach out with my mind, sifting through the building for one that meets my need.
First, I sense an elderly woman dozing fitfully on the second floor, the scent of sickness hovering heavily over her shrunken form. Next, a group of adolescent boys, also asleep, piled upon a filthy mattress. A litter of drugged puppies.
Then, in my mind's eye, I see her. Very young. Soft. Still pretty. Another sly smile. Perfect. In the age-old defense of the defenseless, she has made her nest on the uppermost floor. Climb as high as possible, Little One, and pray that the monsters will not bother to exert themselves to find you.
We climb the deteriorating stairs steadily. I want to move quickly, but slow myself to allow him to follow more easily. He is quieter than humans usually are and disturbs little of the debris that litters our path. Yet still, the noise of his progress reverberates through the cavernous stairwell.
My prey, her ears sharpened by fear and isolation, grows anxious listening to his muffled ascent. Sensing her distress, I weave a silent song of tranquility around us, cloaking our approach and lulling her back to sleep. Briefly, I play with the notion of supplementing her fear and amplifying her dread into a screaming frenzy.
No. I want her calm and aware of the fate that I represent. I want him to hear her pleas. Not the ravings of a terrorized thing, but the sorrowful supplication of a frightened child.
And best not to risk her throwing herself out the window and denying me my dinner.
She is sleeping peacefully when we enter her sanctuary. It is less filthy than the stairway. She has made some effort to tidy her lofty den; the refuse pushed into the adjacent room and her meager clothing folded neatly and piled into a deteriorating cardboard box. A stuffed dog sits prominently on the room's one chair; its plastic eyes fixed vacantly on the slumbering girl.
The girl! Oh she is lovely! Blonde hair streaming across the makeshift pillow, the blush of innocence still blooming in her cheeks. She must have gone on the run recently. It takes so little time to leech away all traces of childhood and etch despair and cunning onto a young face.
I sense that he is as taken with her purity as I am. Her scent is warm and sweet, reminiscent of the hay on which we so recently lay. Kneeling beside her, I gently brush the golden silk of her hair from her face, revealing a delicate chin and the enchanting curve of her throat. Resurrected, my hunger surges in my belly, mimicking the cadence of her throbbing heart.
My fingertips caress her cheek softly, coaxing her eyes open. Fluttering prettily, awareness blooms under her dark lashes like a pale blue flower. Confusion grows quickly into panic and she lurches away from me, sitting up and kicking at the rags that serve as blankets. My lightning fingers interrupt her retreat until she meets my eyes and my power drains away her ability to escape. My minds hold is light, substantial enough to prevent flight, but leaving her speech unfettered.
"Please, don't hurt me."
"Oh precious, you wont feel a thing. I promise you." The rabbit recognizes the wolf by the lust in his eyes and the glint of moonlight on his teeth. I smile gently to let her see my incisors.
Terror moves her to redouble her efforts to escape, her mind straining uselessly at the psychic barrier I have rendered around her. A lovely little butterfly on a pin. I let my control slip a touch and she breaks our mutual stare. Searching the room frantically for an avenue of egress, her eyes settle beyond my left shoulder and upon my Beloved sitting in the chair previously occupied by the treasured toy dog.
"Help me."
Without turning my head, I tell her, "He has the power to help you. If he chooses." My eyes are intent on her fragile, quivering throat. I can feel him considering her.
Her eyes dart between us, desperately searching for a benefactor. "Please," she begs, "I don't want to die."
"Well?" I ask him, my voice buoyant, conversational, "What do you think? Do you want me to spare her? You need only say so-I am, after all, at your command…"
I wait a few moments for his decree. "No?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.
I can feel wave after wave of hysteria washing through her, pounding against the mental restraint encircling her. The rhythm of her fear excites me, makes me impatient.
"He wants to see me take you, Dearest," I sigh to her.
She begins to weep, teardrops falling silently onto her worn sweater. Not a day over fourteen and this little girl has dignity.
Tightening my influence, I bring her eyes back to mine and hold out my hand. The hot, salty scent of her tears is so similar to blood. I inhale deeply, my mouth open slightly, savoring the rich aroma. Its fragrance envelops me, focusing my entire being on her tearstained face.
Hunger lust ripples through my body and my breasts swell and harden, awakening the eager pulse between my thighs. I anoint her with this banquet of sensual delirium, saturating her senses with my arousal.
Her eyes are wide and round, dilated with desire and her breath comes in light, quick gasps as she raises one trembling hand to meet my outstretched fingers. As our flesh touches, a soft moan escapes her. Smiling warmly, I pull her into my lap tenderly stroking away her tears then bringing my fingers to my lips to taste her.
"Please…" she whispers again, arching her back. This time it is not a plea for escape.
"Yes Little One," I reply, stroking my thumb across the hollow at the right side of her throat.
Leaning down, I press her to me, placing small suckling kisses on her slender neck. My lips slide across her flesh to find her skipping heartbeat and pause to touch the tip of my tongue to the artery that hums so splendidly close to the surface.
I pierce her slowly, prolonging my delight, feeling her shudder fetchingly as my fangs penetrate her yielding flesh. The first scalding splash against the back of my throat breaks my restraint and I force her head back to accommodate a more ravenous bite. Her racing heart vibrates against my breasts and one small hand clasps my shoulder tightly, anchoring our union.
I suck eagerly; great, gulping draughts rush down my throat, warming my flesh and soaring through my veins. Hot, thick bliss to satisfy my predacious thirst.
The dull thud of her slowing heart brings me back to myself. I must take some care at this time when the heart is still living. It is possible for the girl to survive for several hours, too weak to move, suffering a slow agonizing death. I will not reward her glorious surrender with suffering.
Reeling from the lack of blood, she begins to struggle weakly. Too late her instincts tell her that she is dying. Thrashing against me in death's last rites, her tiny fists flutter against my chest as I nurse the last precious drops.
Timing my feast to the last beat of her heart; I tenderly rub my warm cheek to her cooling one. Laying her back among the rags of her bed, I maternally arrange the makeshift blankets and place a lingering kiss on her small mouth.
"Is this how you would have had me?"
His voice startles me. Flushed and arrogant, heady from blood and utterly aroused, I walk to him and place his hand to my breast. "Do you mean would I have killed you? Of course. But you know this already."
Caressing me slowly and increasing the pressure steadily, "Why did you choose this girl?" Delivered quietly, but I hear the steel in his tone.
"To make you uneasy," I confess hotly. "To punish you for wanting to see this."
"Yes," he says, pulling me down to my knees by the pressure on my breast. "What else?"
Looking at him, I choke back an impulsive retort. I can see he wants truth now, and insolence will not serve me. "I was afraid," I whisper, closing my eyes and laying my head on his knee. "I was afraid you would not want me anymore."
His touch softens and his other hand strokes the back of my head. "I want to know all of you, Eva." His voice is tender and calming. "You are exquisite to me because of your nature, not in spite of it."
Laughing suddenly, he pulls me onto his lap, "It is who you are, and I cherish it. But you did not hunt me this way," gesturing purposefully at the lifeless girl. "You could have easily captured my mind in the first few moments, but you did not. Why?"
"I--I wanted you." I answer hesitantly, "I wanted you to be with me of your own will first-- before I took you-- wanted you to desire me without my influence."
"You found more than you expected, didn't you? Bit off more than you could chew, so to speak," he reminds me, chuckling softly.
To my surprise, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes. Tears-- and I have not wept for decades. The tears become a torrent as I weep loudly, clinging to him tightly as the loneliness of nearly a century cracks and falls away, and I find myself surrounded by his compassionate embrace.
***
He holds me as we share a taxi back to his home. It is an expensive venture and I sense the cabby's delight at such a windfall. His touch never leaves me, even as we exit the taxi and make our way up the long twisted drive to the barn. His house is just visible through the trees at the right of us, as the approaching dawn fades the blackness, turning everything an unvaried gray.
"I need to go."
He continues up the drive, his hand clasped loosely over mine until we reach the open barn door and he pulls me to face him, kissing me urgently.
"Please, I have only just enough time to return-"
His eyes hold mine, staying my lips as some strong emotion moves through their depths.
"Come up to the house," he directs me, walking casually toward its brightening shape.
"The house?" I repeat blankly.
"Yes Darling…or do you want to stand in the yard until the sun burns you?"
An enormous smile stretches my face. "You are inviting me into your home?"
I know he is aware that my kind cannot enter any private dwelling without a direct invitation, and once invited, I will be able to reenter any time I choose.
"Yes Eva," he muses patiently. "But shall I take it back? You seem reluctant..."
I am at his side in an instant, my arms flying around his neck. "Thank you." I say between kisses, "Thank you, thank you"
As I step for the first time across the threshold of my Beloved's home a shiver of expectation ripples through me. Followed by the calm certainty that for the first time in my altered existence, I will sleep through the day protected and safe. And when I wake, I will not be alone.
about the author: I've been trying to scare my friends since grade school with varying degrees of success. I've made my living for the last 12 years as a professional organizer and feminist and have published several essays and articles in this genre. My coworkers would find the content of my fiction decidedly unsuffragette, but then, strong women have strong minds. I prefer to be published under my alais of "The CopyrightCat who spends her hunting spiders and taking naps.
