Mind Games



Even Drusilla had never done that to him, thrusting fingers like glass shards slicked with blood deep into him with a hasty impatience. He’d endured it, knowing the reason for the cruelty that wasn’t even worthy of the name because she didn’t know, couldn’t realise how much it hurt. He knew of only one other pain that was its equal, and if he’d had to choose, he’d have taken the agony she inflicted.

It felt more personal.

That first time, when she forced it on him, when he wasn’t ready; that was the worst. He forgave it though, and truthfully, what followed made it soften from scarlet-fresh to sepia-faded. Nothing hurt as much as watching that body fall. Nothing.

Then he saw her flex those fingers, feel their strength...and for a time, he shared her with the others. They didn’t seem to feel the pain, though he saw them watch her sometimes, speculative and uneasy, resentful and mistrustful...

He fought carelessly, night after night, waiting for that invasion, never knowing if this would be a night she lingered after she was done commanding him, stroking him deep inside until he sparked and arced, stumbling away from the others, not meeting her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t let go of him until she felt him surrender. He’d reach his crypt and she’d be with him, inside him; watching, smiling, tweaking and twiddling, fiddling and fixing with her own pleasure so vivid until he was never quite sure if his climax came as a reward for him or a release for her.

He wondered sometimes if she knew how much she was showing him of herself, if she knew that you can’t push inside someone and pull back out without leaving traces behind.

And he imagined her coming, far from him, dark eyes darker, mouth open on a gasp – and remembered how once she’d twisted with fear beneath him, her body tight and terrified.

She’d waited a long time for revenge. Girl had a talent. And he watched the others, wondering who she’d choose to play with next and feeling a sick, helpless possessiveness flood him.

Because it didn’t take long to learn to love the pain, when it was all that was left to feel – and even less to learn to love the cause.




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