Chameleon's Story

**From The Author- This is, after all, amateur fiction, by someone who is an admittedly awful speller, so I ask you to be patient with my mistakes. The next chapter will be along as soon as I can get it onto the computer, it's currently on the table in scattered sheets of paper. LOL I hope you enjoy this.**

I lick my lips nervously and open the door before he can knock again. He stands there, leaning against the doorway, looking more like mythology manifest than anyone I should be allowed to be around. I manage a weak, twitchy smile and step back, out of his way, to allow him to enter. He smiles at me and walks in easily. I lock the door while he sits on the bed, and then turn and stare at him. He's staring at me in his own quiet way, so we simply watch each other for a long few minutes.

"Come. Sit." he orders. I swallow a few times, wondering at the dryness of my mouth, and obey him. I agreed to this, after all. I tremble as if he'll hit me when he strokes down my arm, from my shoulder to my wrist, with the back of his hand. He looks up at me (he had been staring at my shaking hands) and smiles softly.

"I suppose you wish for me to tell you some tired cliché about how I won't bite." he says. This time the full force of his British accent hits me, and I smile more naturally.

"Well," I laugh, "it's not as if you will, is it?"

He stares at me for a long moment, those dark blue eyes unfathomable. "Yes." he says finally. I blink, since it's an unusual answer, but I doubt he means what I think he means. At least, I hope he doesn't. I think I hope he doesn't. God, I'm confused. He strokes my throat with one long, pale hand, his unerring fingers finding my pulse immediately. I tremble again as his smile becomes more predatory. "You are afraid."

"No shit." I laugh, surprised again. I feel a sudden pain and find myself on my back, my cheek stinging from the force of the blow. He slapped me! He straddles me, capturing both wrists with one hand and pinning them above my head.

"You know better." he whispers. I stare at him for a second, wanting to argue, but I do. He's told me, multiple times, the stress he puts on proper respect.

"I'm sorry, master." I mumble finally. And I am. I truly don't want to piss him off. I suppose technically I'm not sorry about the right thing, then. I conveniently leave this out of the conversation and smile brightly. "Well, it's definitely you at least."

He smiles again, showing off white, even fangs. I shiver and whimper as he begins unbuttoning my shirt. He smiles, that same predatory smile again, and kisses me slowly. I moan at the taste of him, my fear temporarily removed, and squeak in protest when he pulls away. He undoes the clasp on my new bra, bought just for this occasion, a nice black push up that I absolutely love. I wiggle, uncomfortable again, and gasp when he pinches my left nipple, not gently but hard, causing a little explosion of pain. He brings his mouth to the other and suckles hungrily, letting the intense new pleasure offset the pain. He pulls away suddenly, away from everything, his face unreadable again.

"Take everything off." he orders. I hesitate, but make it to my feet at the thought of his tongue on me again. The shirt and bra I just slip off, but the jeans and panties are harder. For one, the clothes fit tighter, and for two, I can see the hunger in his eyes as I push them both off my hips and let them drop to the floor. I step out of them, shivering, and drop to my knees rather naturally, kneeling with my head down.

"Good girl." he whispers. He drops to his knees before me, taking up a position much like mine, and places himself carefully with my hands on his shoulder and my nipple rubbing against the cotton of his shirt. I moan, realizing that I want him naked too. I swallow the completely indecent request and put my head on his shoulder. We stay like that, almost comfortable since the temperature in the room is actually rather warm. Then, with a soft sigh on his part, it begins. His finger tips brush down my body, feathering through my curves until he finds my clit. I gasp, jerking back, but he holds me still, his fingers taking up a slow, steady rhythm. I moan hoarsely, my head falling forward again when I realize I can't do anything.

"You are confused by this, yes? You agreed to feed me." he murmurs, his voice velvety against my ears. I moan my agreement as he begins rubbing a little faster. "I feed off of lust as well, and I thought this would be nice payment since you were so good as to offer. And, I must admit, the idea of having your naked beauty under my control was and still is utterly delicious."

"Please." I manage, dry mouthed. He kisses me again as he rubs faster, flicking his thumb over my clit as another finger very gently probes my dripping wetness. I moan, no longer protesting in the least, and spread my legs a little wider. He rakes his fangs over my pulse, forcing me higher. I let out a startled half yell as I cum on his fingers, half pleasure, and half pain from his carefully timed bite. The pain lasts only a second before the pleasure kicks in, not erasing it but incorporating it until I come down. He smiles, looking very satisfied with himself. The wound on my breast is very clean, barely a wound at all. It would be visible if I wore a bathing suit, but I don't own anything that would show it. I stare into his eyes, hopelessly confused. One thing is certain- I should have known better than to come. He kisses me gently.

"You belong to me now, my pet." he whispers in between kisses. "You will never be free of your ache for more of me."

"No." I snarl, suddenly shoving him back. He doesn't try to stop me as I jerk my pant on and pull his shirt over my head, since mine has too many buttons to do in a hurry. He simply watches me run out, his words echoing in my head.