The Last Time I Saw You
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A Lesson in Submission
By Laure Alexander
Summary: Darla teaches her new childe some things.


She watches the muscles twitch beneath the lacerated skin, a smug smile crossing her face as her eyes drift down the pain- wracked body of her childe. He is magnificent.

Men mean little to her, males of her own kind even less, but there is something about this one. Something wicked and ancient glittered in his eyes as he lurched drunkenly around the tavern.

Something that drew her to him.

Of course he is handsome and young. Tall and well-built, as all her lovers, with long dark hair and snapping eyes. But, there's something special about him. She knew that from the moment she saw him. A voice inside her spoke, whispering glimmers of possibilities, of the future.

A magnificent monster he will be. Once he is suitably broken.

Raising the long, blood soaked whip, Darla brings it down on his back again. And the male once known as Liam howls in agony.


He hurts. The bitch is hurting him over and over, whipping him more fiercely than ever his father had, and agony burns through him with each lash. He can feel his blood flowing down his back, over his buttocks and slithering along his legs to his feet. He's standing in a pool of his own blood.


A part of him finds the pain oddly pleasureful, and his cock is hard and swollen with need. When it rose, swift and proud, she tied a leather band around the base, preventing him from finding release, and he called her every name he could think of, writhing in the chains that bound him to her bed.

She just laughed.

He doesn't like this anymore.

When he awoke and crawled from his grave, power and strength and hunger and lust flooding him, and once he realized what he had become, a future of delightfully evil deeds filled his head and he reveled in the thought of maiming and killing and drinking his way across the world.

And she, the one who had changed him, would be at his side, in his bed.


It was so easy to follow her simple instructions and slaughter his family and half his village. He drank deeply of the blood of his kin, bathing in it, dark delight intoxicating him. And he felt only joy.

As the sun rose, they sought refuge in a small manor house, tying up the owners and servants for a later meal, and she bathed him, washing him clean of the blood and the stench of humanity. And then she took him to her bed and introduced him to more wicked pleasures than he, as debauched as he was, had ever imagined. On awakening it came as quite a shock to him to find himself chained at the end of the bed. Even though she made him, he is the male, he is the master. She is only a woman.


"The world of the night is different, boy." She speaks softly, each word a caress belied by the painful lashes of the whip falling without respite on his torn back. "The sexes can be equal if the progenitor of the line chooses it so, and ours does. But, there are still rules. Rule number one, a childe will never be master over their sire, no matter what the sex."

"I am not a child," he hisses, his voice echoing his pain.

She smiles and brings the whip to her lips, tasting his blood, his power. He will be difficult. But, oh so wonderfully strong, conceivably powerful enough to some day challenge the Master--not that she would ever allow that.

As that wicked thought enters her mind, a warmth pools in the pit of her stomach, and she drops the whip. Not wanting to ruin her dress, she is nude, and her inner thighs have grown slippery with her growing desire. Climbing on the bed, she unhooks the chain from the frame and wraps the end tightly around her hand, before jumping lightly to the floor.

He struggles, trying to free himself, but he is weak from blood loss, and she easily sends him falling to his knees. Head down, soft pants coming from him, he shakes from pain and hunger.

"Look at me," she beckons softly.

Slowly he lifts his head, his eyes full of pain and anger.

"Not broken yet, are you."

"I won't break, bitch."

One eyebrow arches and she cracks the loose chain across his face, breaking his nose and cutting open his forehead. As he cries out and slumps on his side, she speaks, her voice cutting, "Do not ever call me that again, boy, or we will see if a tongue once cut out can grow anew. Lay on your back," she orders.

"The pain..."

"I care not," she snaps, using one slender foot to shove him over. His body contorts in agony, arching from the floor, as he bites deeply into his lip to hold in a scream. "Pain is just another facet of pleasure, boy. Revel in it."

Straddling his writhing hips, with one quick twist of her hips she impales herself on his engorged staff. As he howls in surprise, she digs her fingernails into his chest and begins to ride for her own pleasure, grinding her swollen nubbin against the leather knot preventing his own release.

With a harsh cry she climaxes and quickly moves off him. As her body quivers with pleasure, she lounges next to him, watching him squirm and listening to his soft groans. His cock, coated now with her secretions, is nearly purple with lust. Reaching out, she wraps her fingers around it and squeezes until he howls again.


The soft, broken sound is nearly inaudible, but she smiles at it. "I made you for my pleasure, childe, not for your own. You must earn that."

Confusion floods his eyes, and she feels a brief tightening of emotion in her. He really is lovely. The next few years of training are going to be blissful. For her, at least.


Hours pass, hours filled with pain and starvation and a burning, unrelieved lust. Slumped over the end of the bed, knees digging painfully into the hard wooden floor, his face buried in the soft wool of the blanket, he no longer needs to be chained. Too weak from blood loss, he can barely flinch as she continues to whip him, this time with a birch rod that leaves deep bruises across his shoulders.

His mind is a red haze of pain, but through it all he feels the angry throb in his groin, like the pounding of a spike through his genitals. He's going to go mad.

Dropping the rod, she climbs onto the bed, lifts his head by the hair and positions herself, leaning back on one hand, her legs wrapping loosely around his aching shoulders.

He gives her a baffled look, before his eyes are drawn back to the glistening golden curls framing her wet cleft. "'Tis dirty."

Rolling her eyes, she smacks him across the ear. "Yes, as dirty as a lass dropping to her knees and fellating you. Do a good job and perhaps you shall get a reward." The sight of the tongue peeking out between his pale, drawn lips sends a shiver through her, and she relaxes back on both hands. "Show me that tongue has a use, boy."

Hesitantly, he licks the apex of her cleft, tasting her and feeling how swollen she is. He licks her again, losing some of his hesitation as she moans in pleasure. As the taste is strangely sweet and not revolting as he thought, he buries his mouth in her and laps and suckles at her tender flesh.

Groaning as his untutored tongue laps across her clitoris, she watches him closely, smiling slowly as he loses all hesitation. After twenty minutes or so she welcomes the climax that leaves her gasping and shuddering beneath his caressing mouth. He lifts his head, his face glistening with her secretions, and stares hotly at her. His cock gives a violent throb against his stomach, and he winces in pain.

"I need to spend," he says baldly.

She chuckles and stretches languidly. "Yes, I can smell that need, childe."

He grits his teeth. "Please let me spend." It is as far away from begging as he could possibly get, almost an order, and she narrows her eyes.


His eyes widen.

"Submit," she repeats, slipping from the bed and wrapping her fingers in his hair, yanking his head up.

"I am not a toy or a slave," he retorts, trying to pull away from her hands as they tighten.

"Someday," she says in a soft, deadly voice, "you will be a master vampire and dominant to all save my sire and I, but until then you will learn to submit, for you can never truly learn to dominate before you experience submission."

He looks confused again, and her hands loosen, sliding down his face to cup his cheeks. "What must I do?" he finally mutters, his eyes closing in resignation.

"Get on your hands and knees on the bed. Do not touch yourself or try to free your member from the restraints."

As he moves slowly and painfully to obey, she nods in satisfaction at the sight of the wounds on his back beginning to heal even without fresh blood. When he assumes the position, every muscle in his body trembling from pain and hunger, she opens her valise and removes a jar of face cream and an object made of supple leather.

Climbing onto the bed, she kneels beside his head and wraps her arm around his neck, jerking his face towards her. Spying the thick, brown leather object in her hand, his eyes widen.

"Wh--what is that?"

She smirks and, releasing her hold on him, opens the jar and slowly rubs cream onto the leather. "What does it look like?"

"A...a fake..." He swallows hard and his arms shake.

"Phallus, boy. It is what is known as a dildo."

"What do you do with it?" he chokes out.

Her smirk deepens as she rises to her knees and runs her empty hand over his shivering back. "What do you think?"

"I will gladly fill any need within you, my lady."

Laughing, she glides her fingers over the firm cheeks of his buttocks, then slips one digit between them. "It is not I who needs filling."

Understanding fills him with sudden intensity and he rises up off his hands, twisting to face her. "You cannot mean..."

Her palm cracks across his face, driving his torso down. One hand presses his face to the pillow as the fingers of her other hand spread his buttocks. One delicate digit worms its way inside him, and he cries out in shock.



The ice in her voice chills him and he mutters, "I am not a sodomite."

"You are a vampire," she stresses. "No longer bound by human morality, vampires will seek pleasure wherever they wish."

"I will not find pleasure in this," he cries.

Cocking her head, she eyes his erection, and replies, "Oh, I think you will. And I would be a poor sire if I did not prepare you for my sire's attentions. His cock is magnificent, its head a good two inches across. He will fuck you bloody, my boy. And you *will* enjoy it, or you will never climax again." As another shiver goes through him at her threats, she raises the dildo and worms it between his clenching buttocks. "Relax."

"It is unnatural."

"So are we," she grunts out, pushing the dildo against his hole and slowly forcing the muscles to part. His groan of pain makes her smile and she thrusts harder, driving the leather cock as far as it will go.

As a new pain washes through him, he closes his eyes and struggles to accept the intrusion into his body. She begins to move the thing in a parody of lovemaking, and he bites back his groans of pain. But, as his muscles relax and his passage grows accustomed to the thick dildo, a warmth begins to slip through him, easing the pain. The next thrust is actually pleasureful, as the tip of the dildo touches something inside him that makes his cock throb.

Thrusting at an easy pace, she watches the changes cross her childe's face, from pain to pleasure to need. He begins to move, arching back onto the dildo. Gasps of pleasure spill from his lips, and his fingers dig into the bedding. Dipping her head, she watches as pre-ejaculate oozes from the tip of his strangled cock, and she smiles. Continuing to fuck him, she carefully reaches beneath his stomach and unties the knot of leather. His eyes fly open, and he cries out, startled.

"Lady, I must...oh, please, I must spend, please," he babbles, thrusting his cock into the air as he rocks at a quickening pace on the leather shaft impaling him.

"You may," she murmurs encouragingly, slamming the fake cock into him with a sudden force that drives him forward on his hands and knees. He bucks uncontrollably and his semen splatters on his stomach, dripping onto the bedding beneath him. He howls and fucks the air, spilling stream after stream of lust into nothing.

Watching him, she slows the pace, finally stopping with the dildo buried to the hilt. As her childe collapses in a weak, limp pile, she gently strokes his back. His lips brush against her knee, and she glances down into his pleasure-filled brown eyes.


"My Angel." Taking his hand, she brings it to her lips and tenderly suckles on his fingers. He shifts, and frowns in discomfort.

"Will you remove it now, please?" he asks, his voice still submissive.

She grins around his pinky. "Oh, no, my love. It stays in for a week."

His eyes widen again and he rises painfully to his knees, the change in position driving the dildo against that spot inside him which sends a bolt of lust straight to his cock. It begins to swell again. ", it..." he stammers.

"I told you that you would find pleasure in it, dearling." Wrapping her fingers around his growing erection, she tugs gently to bring him across her as she falls onto her back. "Shall I show you?"

"Please do," he pleads, his voice husky with lust.