Bitsy's Inhuman Submission

This chapter picks up where Chapter 3 left off. Bitsy's brother-in-law, the "real" Count Dracula makes an appearance here. Enjoy and please let me know what you think!

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Maria arrived shortly after, very subdued as she bathed Bitsy. She made no comment about the state of Bitsy's body, nor about the cum found beneath her; she simply cleaned her efficiently. When she made no move to dress Bitsy, simply to shackle her hands together, Bitsy mustered a protest.

"But I thought I was going downstairs to dinner," she stated hesitantly.

Her maid appeared unsure and, even worse, in possession of an awful secret. "What is it, Maria?"

"You are to eat downstairs, yes, in the grand dining room. But the king has ordered you to your place prepared just as this," Maria's whisper was one of misery.

Aghast at Stuart's gall, Bitsy seethed, "Naked? I am to appear at dinner, eat at dinner, naked?"

Maria nodded, her head bowed.

Bitsy knew enough of her Master to know that there had to be more. "What else is it, Maria?"

"He said that this was to be a continuation of your punishment, of helping you to learn your place."

"I certainly will at that." Bitsy seemed to gather up the old hauteur and disdain that she had worn as a cloak in her dealings with Tracy Bathory and company. "If he wants me down there in my place, such I will be. But he will never touch my soul again."

Maria seemed to think that this was unwise by the sideways glance that she threw Bitsy, but she knew better than to speak of it. Instead, she squeezed Bitsy's palm once in support and fled the room.

Resolutely, Bitsy walked from the bedchamber, proudly past an array of lecherous male servants who paused to gaze upon her submissive loveliness. Like a queen she strode, a modern day Lady Godiva, giving no pause to squeamishness even as she noted the bulges beneath the pants of each of the footmen and other manservants.

She was the Ice Bitch again, perfectly at ease and stoic as she entered the grand dining room to find Stuart at the head of the table. Not even seeing Chris, her brother-in-law, or Marcos seated at the table as well, made her falter.

Stuart gestured to a pillow at his side. "This is where you will dine, my pet."

Chris stood, scraping the heavy wooden chair across the marble floor with a loud screech to stand. With a snarl revealing his fangs, he growled, "She is not going to sit there naked at your feet begging for scraps of food. Stuart this has gone far enough!"

Bitsy raised one hand to stall his further comments and leveled an imperious stare at him. "Chris, it's okay." With her mental voice only so that he could hear and feel her emotions, she told him, I'm really okay. He has to have this show of his authority so that you would let Tracy Bathory know of his treatment—at least I think that is his reason for this display. Things have not been that bad. She concentrated on thinking only of her conversation with Marcos over the phone and other innocuous details rather than let him see or experience the less innocent things that had occurred.

She knelt at Stuart's side locking her lime gaze with his, pretending that Chris and Marcos did not exist. Chris stood again. "I can't stay here and watch this. I'm sorry," he choked out, turning and walking out of the room.

To Stuart's delight, Bitsy paid Chris's declaration no mind; she merely gazed up at him through submissively lowered lashes, her head tilted up slightly. Her posture was straight, so that her bouncy full breasts rose and fell enticingly with each breath.

The cook's assistant was so entranced by the rise and fall of the rosebud-tipped creamy mounds that he almost dropped the first course. In between bites of shrimp bisque, Stuart pressed the spoon past Bitsy's lips for a taste...which she took demurely.

Marcos, who had not outwardly protested Bitsy's treatment of dinner, looked at turns fascinated and disgusted. When some of the bisque escaped her lips and Stuart yanked her up by her hair to lick the trail from her chin down her neck, Marcos interrupted, "Is this really necessary, brother?"

Caught in Bitsy's enraptured gaze, Stuart pondered a minute before responding, "Yes, it is. I have to test the depths of her devotion, her limits. Isn't that right, my pet?" His voice, once directed at Bitsy, turned mesmerizing.

The innate haughtiness had been broken by her own acts of submission; the Ice Bitch had retreated again. "Yes, Master," she breathed, cooing at him.

Stuart continued, "She has to know, to accept, to internalize that I own her, body and soul." He snapped his fingers, and his valet appeared before him, a flat box in hand. Pulling Bitsy up on his lap, he directed that she should open the box.

She removed the thin strip of leather within, then the wider band that resembled a black dog collar. The king secured the thinner one around her neck. "You will wear this when within a public setting or at anytime when wearing this one," here he indicated the wider collar, "would be inappropriate. This marks you as my slave, my slut, my play thing." He slid the heavy black leather collar over it, attaching a leash through one of the loops. "This is the collar of your servitude, a working collar as it were."

Bitsy moved her head in such a way so that she could kiss the leash, as she knew was his desire and intent. "Thank you, Master, for my lovely gifts." Her eyes shone for him, glowed the peridot gleam that was for him alone.

The king looked at his brother. "If you will excuse us, Mark. My pet and I have some unfinished business to discuss." He snapped his fingers indicating her place on the floor, then taking the leash, walked her, his pet, from the room and into his office. Taking the key for the office door from his pocket, he locked it on the inside.

"Sit on the edge of the desk, slave," he ordered, the natural imperial tones rising to the fore. She quickly did as bid, spreading her legs wide for him, tempting him with her bald mound that glistened with the telltale signs of her arousal. Her dark pink lips curved into an enticing smile.

He approached her slowly, the alpha wolf tracking the scent and sight of his mate, unbuttoning and removing his clothes, finally shucking his boxers as he approached her, close enough to feel her heat, to be drawn in by the muskiness of her arousal. Stuart closed his eyes, breathing in her aroma, before opening his eyes to reveal the red irises of his lust. Bitsy's own dazed gaze was solid, molten lime: no white or black showed.

When his cock brushed up against her mound, coating the head with her silky soft juices, she slid her legs around his waist drawing him in to her. He slid in, until he was buried to the hilt in her sheath. With trembling fingers, he lifted her shackled hands to slide them behind his neck. He groaned as her nipples brushed his sensitive ones, a groan that turned into a growl as he playfully nipped her shoulder.

His hands came under her thighs and he carried her, while buried deep within her, to the nearest wall. With a rumbling laugh that echoed deep in his chest, he warned her, "This will not be gentle, my slave. The time for gentleness has passed."

"I don't care," she moaned, as she bit on his earlobe. "Please fuck me, Master!"

His control snapped yet again, and he began pounding her against the wall. Her orgasm was almost instantaneous, causing his climax to soon follow with a bellowing shout.

In the aftermath, their heartbeats and breathing began to slow. Bitsy slumped against him, murmuring softly, "Thank you, Master."

Stuart chuckled. "When we are as intimate as this, and alone, you may call me by my birthname, Tristan."

"Tristan." Bitsy tasted the unfamiliar word on her lips before his lips claimed them, devoured them.

He collapsed, still holding her, into his cushiony office chair. Stroking the ebony waves of her hair, he seemed to relax further until sleep and sweet dreams claimed them both.

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I'm hard at work on the next section, and I will post more when I've finished.