The cool night breeze blew across her face, carrying the scent of the fields that it crossed before alighting upon her. She could smell the end of the day, hours old, and she licked at it eagerly. It filled her mouth, made passionate love to her tongue, and passed without resistance into her parched lungs. As it lapped against the shores of her lips, she smiled and closed her eyes again. It was good to breathe the night freely. It was delicious to taste the open sky once again. Aurore lost herself in the moment, blissfully giving herself to the very darkness. There was nothing sweeter in the entirety of existence than the dark sky above, and the crisp air below. She spun slowly on the balcony, the darkness illuminated only by the very stars, while her dress fluttered ever so delicately in the motion, her hands wide and far from her shoulders. The view was of the rolling countryside, as line of trees far off in the distance, and farther still the scent of a city bustling and burgeoning with chaos.
Then she stopped. Like a clockwork ballerina, her motion ended immediately and totally barring the remaining fluttering of her dress. The breeze followed in suit and she smiled again. "Va-t'en, créature. Je ne suis pas ici pour vous tout de suite."
"No. Y'aren't. But yeh' are still beautiful. An' yeh' are still mine."
"Le vôtre, je peux être. Mais pas maintenant. Laissez-moi respirer, diriez-vous?"
"Aye. For now."
She danced again, her feet seemingly not touching the stonework beneath them. She merrily skipped and threw her arms this way and that, moving to some unheard music. She spun and shook. She turned her arms into brushes and painted her very soul upon the dark air all around. She was alive with energy and she meant to rid herself of it all before letting the supple leather touch her porcelain skin again. Angus watched. He loved to see Aurore dance. He gave her space and time, and enjoyed gazing upon her frivolity from his vantage point just beyond the visible world. He loved her as he had the rest, but he was realistic about the extent of her commitment. She was here to taste power, nothing more. She was here to be commanded, as so many others had been before her, and as so many more would after her body failed.
Angus watched patiently, lovingly. He let the city beyond the trees linger only briefly in his mind before he cast it away, a spent child to be put into bed and commanded to sleep. He could hear all of the thoughts in that city as a constant stream, so many cattle to be taken, but he chose to be here, watching this body dance the night away. And dance she did. To and fro, here and there, up and down Aurore flew. She flailed and shuddered, There was a sinuous elegance to her, one that any mortal would lust after, one that might cost a mortal his life.
Aurore stopped at last, and turned to the hidden Angus. She panted, her body damp with sweat, and smiled, bowing her head. "Mon Maître, je suis prêt à être le vôtre."
Angus faded into this world, muscled and powerful, and returned her smile. "A'course y'are"
...
She felt everything change, and she knew it was time. In less than a breath, she was clean, scented, and standing in a tomb again. Angus stood silently and let his eyes take her in, capturing her, and making her feel as though she was the universe itself. He cocked his head slightly, gave no indication of emotion, and leaned forward into her air, breathing her in as a cat might expose it's Jacobson's organ to something unfamiliar. He inhaled a long breath, letting the delicate fragrances mingle inside of his body, exposing all of Aurore's flesh to his heightened senses. She was a flower, ready to be picked from the field and placed upon the table, her beauty immediate, but her moment fading. Angus delighted in her rebellious nature, he adored her independent attitude, and he allowed her these trespasses against her Master. And he was, in the truest sense of the word, her Master. He made her what she was, and he commanded her as he wished. It was this way so many times before, and it would be again...
Her arms were raised and outstretched, the black leather tightly fastened to her wrists with gleaming chrome buckles. The straps extended into the darkness, as though they were not necessarily attached to anything other than the darkness itself. Her legs were bound together, another length of jet black strapping wrapped thrice around her ankles and extended into the floor beneath her glorious, naked form. Angus smiled from the shadows and measured her symmetry with a critical eye. There was beauty here, far beyond the woman suspended from the leather. Aurore licked her lips and he knew her eyes were closed behind the black silk that covered them. She welcomed this more than any other ever had, and this excited the Vampire as little else did.
Power flowed from his fingertips and he whipped them through the air in anticipation of the pleasures that awaited his Servant. "Mon maître, le plaisir ma chair avec vos caprices. Faire la douleur exquise et éternelle."
"Oh, tha'at I will, love" he replied as a thick black grip materialized in his closed hand. Tendrils of heavy leather, each tipped with a wide, flat spade, bore from the grip and quivered under his desire. He walked about her, circling and watching for motion of any kind. Aurore remained perfectly still, even as he dragged the flail across the stone loudly. He came to rest on her left side, faced her obliquely, then raised the flail and brought it down across her thigh as lightly as a dragon landing upon an archer. She screamed loudly, her flesh erupting into great red welts. Blood welled up against the skin and erupted through the exposed capillaries as though her body was weeping in pleasure, thankful for the blessing of pain. Angus moved to her right, changed hands, and mirrored the dispensation of punishment upon her other thigh. Again her body wept in delight.
"Merci, Maître. Mon corps est vivant avec les cadeaux que vous offrez. J'ai envie de plus, si vous êtes aimable et courtois." she muttered through quivering lips. Her breasts were flush with excitement and her quim began to throb visibly. She licked her lips again and lay her head back, and tightened her hands around the straps.
"Amazing." Angus thought to himself.
"Pas plus étonnant que celui qui a fait de moi, Maître" she replied silently to him.
Angus was thrilled.
He moved behind her, raised the flail, and delivered her flesh stroke after stroke of delight. Her back was painted in streaks of scarlet, and she writhed with pleasure with every kiss of the flail. She became more aroused as he went on, reaching orgasm after orgasm that racked her body. Her thighs glistened with her juices, and her sweat, and her blood, while tears of ecstasy flowed down her face. She was trembling and moaning erotically until she finally cried out "Maître, vous m'avez plu au-delà de toute attente! Ma chair ne peut pas supporter la joie de ce genre. Je vous en prie, laissez-moi votre gloire pour toujours."
Angus turned away, his arousal apparent. He bowed his head and she fell from the vanishing leather into a heap. His embrace was sudden and violent, yet loving. This was his crowning achievement. He had made this woman into his servant, and soon she would be aching to be out there, alone in the night, wanting to hunt for herself. She would want to find mortal flesh to pleasure, and to seduce. She would be free, yet ever his servant. She embraced her Master in return, and kissed him deeply. She ran her hands up his body, and down to that place where her fingertips could pull the seed from his lust. She stroked him, and nuzzled his throat, all the while letting her hands find a rhythm he would respond to. Angus allowed this, and took pleasure in his servant's efforts. He felt his own climax coming, and bared her neck to his mouth. As he erupted into her hands, and onto her wounded wrists, she pulled furiously at his flesh, tugging and stroking hungrily. He sank his fangs into her, and tasted her with that ancient ache. Her motion trailed off, and Angus pulled away. She licked his essence from her hands and bloody wrists, savoring the creature. He lifted her, turned her, and admired this beauty.
She smiled as the moved away, glancing over her shoulder. Angus nodded lightly, and quietly said "Mine"
She returned the nod and replied, "Bien à vous, Maître. Bien à toi."
