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Title: The Master Willow
Series: The Return Of Wicked Red
Author: psimetis
E-mail: psimetis@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: if it pleases you, do :).
Rating:NC-17
Summary: This Chapter: Me Vampire, You Maybe Sex and Dinner
Chapter Two
Tara’s eyes drifted open slowly, and she instantly realized something was
wrong. She felt stifled--magically stifled. She breathed quietly, trying to
make sense of the wood beamed ceiling that faced her eyes--of the unfamiliar,
large bed beneath her body. Memory of what had happen to her before her sleep
came to the fore of her awareness. Her heart thundered in her chest.
A terribly cool, gentle hand came to rest on her chest, right over the rapid
beat. Tara could not help a deep breath of anxiety as she turned her head slowly
to see the owner of that hand. The red haired vampire’s amused green eyes
were attentively watching her hand’s rise and fall from Tara’s deep
breaths.
“Soft thing,” the vampire exclaimed in that girlish voice of hers.
Her hand rose quickly to pull the blonde’s thin blouse roughly apart, breaking
the buttons and expose the pale skin beneath. The vampire’s cool palm met
Tara’s heart once again and the blonde witch gasped.
“Warm thing,” the vampire murmured appreciatively, and then suddenly
snarled, the baring of her fine teeth crinkling the vampire’s slender features--her
small nose, her eyes--in such a way that Tara would have thought it almost cute
had the girl been human. Instead Tara gasped again, head back in fear, and her
right hand involuntarily came up to grip the cool, smaller hand over her heart.
Sensing the preternatural strength flowing through that limb, she trembled.
She had seen vampires rip into each other’s bodies and into humans. She
knew what this hand could do to her.
The vampire above her leaned into Tara slightly, the animalistic snarl now gone.
Bright thoughts flitted rapidly through her intelligent, green eyes...eyes which
also held the ice light of cold. A cold that could lead to cruelty.
Fearful realization dawned in the blonde witch’s wide blue depths, and
Willow grinned. It was so good that Kitten understood!
“When Mummy first let me have pets,” Willow gently began to share,
as she casually peeled Kitten’s torn blouse from her shoulders. “They
were always dying so soon or breaking so easily. It takes practice how to play
with humans, you see.” Tara heard her sleeves rip at the cuffs where the
vampire did not bother to unbutton them. “How much pain they can withstand.
What breaks in their mind. What makes them...die.”
Willow paused to appreciate Kitten’s full breasts, still confined within
a white bra. With a snap the bra gave way and Willow buried her face in the
lush, warm softness.
“Mmm,” Willow purred. Tara gripped the sheets beneath her, her body
responding involuntarily to the pleasurable sensation of the vampire’s
face and red hair caressing her breasts, her stomach. She felt cool lips kiss
the skin between her breasts.
“My demon loved the torture,” she heard the vampire speak softly into
her chest. Tara tried to let out the breath she had been holding. Did the vampire
really say ‘loved’--past tense?
Willow raised her head suddenly, a look of mischievous regret in her face.
“But it wasn’t enough,” she continued, and her cool hands resumed
stripping the Kitten, finding the zipper of her long skirt. “Mummy thinks
I get too easily bored, that I need a pet that can challenge me. A strong playmate.”
The vampire pulled the skirt from Tara’s yielding hips. A firm, small hand
caressed up from the ankle, along the calf and to the thigh. The red haired
witch easily mounted the bed and sat between the blonde’s thighs.
Tara gasped as a slender finger brushed her clef through the cotton panties
in one, long stroke.
Willow raised the digit to her mouth and ran a delicate tongue along it, contemplating
Kitten’s taste. Fear, grief, virginity, magiks. There was moisture, but
not of arousal. Kitten was not enjoying herself.
Willow took hold of both edges of Kitten’s underwear and ripped it off.
Tara bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She didn’t understand
why the vampire had been talking of ‘strong playmates’ when she certainly
didn’t feel anything but strong at the moment. Her magic was trapped within
her, her injuries made even breathing painful, and now she lay naked and vulnerable
and wantonly spread before this dangerously unpredictable creature. She blushed
deeply with shame. She wanted to shut her legs--shut her eyes--against the vampire’s
bright, assessing stare, but willed herself not to. Whatever was to happen,
she wanted to survive it.
Willow’s gaze finally rose from the pleasure of viewing Kitten’s tempting
sex to meet the girl’s vulnerable, brave eyes. Wetness shimmered there.
“You’re very beautiful, Kitten,” Willow observed quietly, reaching
for Kitten’s injured eye and prompting it to shut briefly. Moisture fell
from it, and she caught the tear and tasted it. “Mm.”
Willow gently harvested the tear from Kitten’s other, shining eye. As she
tasted that one also, the blonde witch blinked, disconcerted. Confusion mixed
with the wary fear and shame in her gaze.
“Mummy let me have pets, because my demon liked to break things,”
Willow continued softly, taking pleasure in the taste of the tears, as if they
were wine. “Mum was a girl like yourself once, all sweet and light and
beauty. Then her Dark Daddy came along and broke her to pieces, put the fragments
back together like an artist. My mum is a remarkable creation.”
Tara could not tell if that last observation was in subtle, sarcastic judgment
or in bemused admiration. The vampire stared intently into her eyes, and the
young woman decided that it was a statement of acceptance.
“I don’t play games like that,” the vampire continued seriously
in her hushed, girlish voice, the shining green of her gaze so bright and intelligent.
“I’ve learned now, that there’s no lasting satisfaction in broken
things.” She leaned in, her pretty mouth slowly seeking Tara’s. “You
won’t fragment into pieces, will you Kitten?” she breathed against
the blonde’s full lips. She then kissed her, sweetly--Tara thought with
startled surprise--and in that moment of strange connection, felt herself tentatively
kiss back. The vampire softly pulled her cool lips away and leaned back, smiling
a small, satisfied smile.
“We’re going to be such wonderful playmates, Kitten,” she breathed
with deeply assured delight.
* * *
Tara lay as quietly as she could upon the large bed, but it was difficult, as
her breathing was becoming more of a labored chore, thanks to her ribs. Swelling,
she thought. She was feeling warmer as well--quite possibly fever. If she had
not left her dorm room to pick up medicine, she might not have ended up captured,
but she only kidded herself briefly with that thought. This vampire witch would
have easily kidnapped her at some point, even had she been well and able to
fight her.
She wished she had a blanket, a loose sheet, anything to cover her nakedness.
The vampire had left the room after the kiss, tsking as a cool hand touched
the pudgy, ugly bruisings that was her side. Tara was uncertain what the vampire’s
current absence meant. She had no idea what her being here meant. Despite the
vampire’s strange assurances, rape and torture by her new ‘playmate’
still seemed likely prospects.
Tara fingered the metal edge of the silver cuff that bound her left wrist. She
did not want to look at it, she might start crying. It was too strange and frightening
not being able to feel her own magic. She felt bottled, unable to sense the
world properly. Only the caster who had placed the bind could remove it. Lack
of clothes and injuries aside, the fact that her magic had been bound was probably
the sole reason the young witch had not attempted to run out of the room and
out of Sunnydale without a look back. The vampire was more likely to release
the bind if Tara were--were here, and cooperative.
The blonde plucked at the bedcover beneath her in rising panic, wanting to pull
it over her.
* * *
Drusilla was drawn out of her little dance down the hallway by the rapid pounding
of an accelerated heartbeat. She ceased the twirl of her long dress.
“Pumpity pumpity pumpity,” she chanted beneath her breath, and peeked
into the room her childe’s cubby was in. There was the pretty sweets, lying
upon the bed all lovely and warm smelling, except for that blackish hurt radiating
from her middle. Her childe was right now in the mansion’s kitchen, mixing
a healing poultice. Her Precious was so smart, learning all sorts of things
to fix hurts and bruisies. She and her childe had been together nineteen years,
and in that time her brilliant daughter had learned and accomplished so much.
Hers was a mind that never ceased working, so intelligent was she. Precious
rapidly outgrew the more simple interests of her ruthless demon. It took about
a decade of blood and mayhem for her childe to settle down, but Dru knew from
personal experience that it can take vampires decades to a century more to finally
find the bloodshed and games unfulfilling.
Dru felt that a companion--much like this intriguing, honey haired witch--might
finally complement her childe’s strengths. The stars had spoken of this
lion cubby. Dru watched a moment more as the stiffly prone blonde plucked futilely
at the heavy coverlet beneath her. The elder vampire gracefully made her entrance.
Tara turned her head in surprise. Despite the binding, she sensed the--the psychic
presence of this new vampire. She could not be certain but there it was, in
the deep, large eyes that dreamed elsewhere, in the ethereal grace of the creature’s
here, yet ‘not-here’, bearing. This vampire was...gifted.
“Lady?” Tara whispered, before she could suppress the exclamation.
The slim, dark haired vampire stopped before the bed, startled. She stared into
the soulful blues before her and recognized once again what she had seen at
the Bronze. Special girl.
Tara watched with held breath as the vampire finally smiled serenely at her,
then removed the black, lacy shawl from her slender shoulders. With an elegant
flick of her wrists, the vampire laid the thin, light cloth across Tara’s
body.
“T-thank you...” Tara stammered softly. The vampire before her continued
to smile as she held out a slender hand, the fingers jeweled with rings.
“I am Drusilla,” she murmured low, her large eyes luminous. The vampire’s
voice was accented, Tara realized. She was British.
“I am Tara,” the blonde responded softly, and tentatively took the
hand. It was absurd, but she had such a strong inclination to pay respect to
the vampire, as one would to an elder witch.
“Tara,” Drusilla pronounced slowly, as if tasting the name. Realization
dawned in her face and her serene smile grew darker and broader. “Rock
to my Little Tree.”
Tara frowned slightly, uncertain of the reference.
“Mummy!” the blonde heard breathlessly spoken from the door, and Drusilla
turned, but did not release their hands. The red haired vampire entered the
room, carrying a ceramic bowl. She immediately mounted the bed, and to Tara’s
discomposure, positioned herself once again between the blonde’s legs.
“This is my Sire, Kitten,” the red haired witch solemnly introduced,
eyes wide. “My mum, Drusilla.”
“Yes,” the blonde witch answered shyly. “She came in t-to say
hello.”
The red haired vampire’s mouth widened into a delighted smile--made all
the more attractive by the lack of darkness and cruelty. To Tara, she looked
just like a human girl--innocently pleased by some sudden discovery. She wanted
to smile in response, and the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.
For Willow, she was smiling because this was the first time she had heard Kitten
speak a full sentence, and her voice was so feminine and pretty. Kitten’s
mouth twitched then--a fleeting, half-grin--and if Willow’s dead lungs
breathed, she would have exhaled an exclamation of appreciation. Instead her
lips parted further in its smile.
Drusilla watched the interaction between her childe and the cubby closely. Her
Precious was enamored. Little cubby may prove a wonderful playmate.
“Do you dance?” Drusilla suddenly asked the honey girl whose hand
she still held.
Tara was surprised but answered gamely. “Yes,” she affirmed. Though
the elder vampire looked as young as herself, the blonde witch was certain that
she referred to more formal dancing. Even without her magic, Tara suspected
that the vampire was impressively old.
Drusilla looked expectantly at her, almost beckoning with their clasped hands,
and Tara blushed slightly. “B-but I could not, at this moment. Perhaps
w-when I feel better?”
The elder vampire had looked disappointed, briefly, when Tara had declined,
but immediately brightened at the prospect of a dance later.
“Yes, moonlight party, in th’ garden. Lamps and hats and tea. Won’t
that be perfect, Precious?” Dru enthused, dark eyes glowing as she turned
to her childe.
“Yes mum,” Willow affirmed with an earnest nod. She took hold of the
lace shawl covering Kitten’s body and flipped it off. “When Kitten’s
better I shall bring her to dance with you.”
If Tara could blush any deeper, she would. Exposed once more to the cool air
of the room, the blonde was reminded once again, of her vulnerable position.
Drusilla released her hand finally and hummed to herself, her lidded eyes already
faraway. As the elder vampire swayed away from the bed, Tara felt cool hands
prompt her to turn and lie partially upon her uninjured side. She looked down
and watched the red haired vampire industriously push pillows into her body
to support her. Taking the blonde’s arm, the vampire placed it away from
her body. She picked up the ceramic bowl.
Tara gasped as a hot, fragrant poultice was applied to her bruised side. The
heat immediately penetrated and soothed the pain away, and Tara was aware, as
the vampire worked to shape the poultice, that she was humming, matching the
melody of her sire’s. As the elder vampire swayed close to the bed in front
of her, and the childe hummed under her breath behind her, Tara realized it
was a healing spell they were weaving. More heat suffused her body, relaxing
her muscles and making her sleepy. She closed her eyes.
“Precious,” she heard Drusilla sing song disapprovingly somewhere
above her. “You haven’t told honey cubby your name, have you.”
“No Mummy, I haven’t,” Tara heard laughed behind her. It was--it
was a very attractive laugh. Full of a girl’s joy.
“Would you like to know who I am, Kitten?” she felt whispered softly
near her ear. Tara forced her sleepy eyes open, catching sight of a pretty mouth
and its gentle, beautiful smirk. Red hair fell before the mouth as the vampire
hovered over Tara’s shoulder, and she was tempted, had she the strength,
to touch the bright strands.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Who are you?”
The smirk widened. “I am Willow, my beautiful Tara.”
And Tara slipped into slumber then, with only the thought that it certainly
was not unexpected, that a vampire like Willow would already know her name.
* * *