date night with a vampiress
I wasn’t a Brat Tamer, I was a Countess Domesticator.
She was so beautiful as she moved from pleasure to suffering. Her skin was the color of moonlight, her clit like a glittering star between her legs, guiding me to her pleasure. She writhed and shook under my wand in complete silence, as if she didn’t really exist, like she was a ghost or merely a figment of my imagination. When we got into harder scenes, when my world narrowed to the swing of my arm and the pace of my breathing, I sometimes started to wonder if she was real at all or just a fantasy I wanted so badly I hallucinated her. She was so beautiful and physically perfect, so perfect for me even in her flaws. I loved her mind, her humor, her kinks, her trust. I even loved nights like tonight, when she was so powerful she couldn’t understand why the one person she needed not to, didn’t fall under her spell and do exactly what she wanted. She pushed me harder than I sometimes knew what to do with but in the end, she still submitted so beautifully to me.
“Ooooh,” she whined thinly, struggling to inhale enough to make sound. “Daddyyy.”
“You’re being such a good girl for me,” I told her.
“I’mmm…”
“I know you’re cumming, baby. I know. You’re doing so good.”
“Hurts,” her voice cracked.
