Winter’s Tale
9 Seventh night, part 1 — Choices
That night was dreamless. Perhaps fear of discovery made us sleep lightly, for when Mother walked towards our door next morning, footsteps as soft as ever, my keen hearing jolted me awake. I looked to Summer and saw her blinking herself alert. Relief diminished my panic when I saw her mark of Dahlk had vanished as promised, but there was another risk of discovery dug into our necks. I swished my hair over my throat, my loose locks thick and long enough to trail down my chest, but I was only partly confident it would obscure my incriminating quartet of puncture wounds.
Seeing what I was doing, Summer arranged her tresses in similar fashion a moment before Mother knocked on our door and told us we were, once again, late. We sung out our apologies and nervously waited to see if she would enter. With an admonishment that breakfast was ready, we heard her walk away.
We hopped out of bed, the exhilaration of avoiding discovery shaking off the bonds of sleep. With little time, we quickly examined our wounds in the light of day. Pulling our hair clear to inspect each other’s necks revealed four perfect little divots, circles of dark, congealed blood, haloed with faint blueish bruising. Our beloved’s fangs had slid into our flesh without tearing, so the incisions had clotted remarkably well considering the intensity of the bloodletting. It was little surprise they were healing so readily. Layla had bestowed them, so of course they were magical. To our eyes they were beautiful in their way, enhanced by a slight pallor the feeding had wrought upon our complexions.
Bitten on the same side, as best we could tell their placement was identical, which we thought considerate of Layla. It would have irked if the wounds had differentiated us, but having our bodies identically scarred by our beloved was darkly pleasing. With no obvious signs of infection, we carefully washed each other’s again and, though still sensitive, the tremors they sent through us were but distant echoes of last night.
Captivated, we wanted to spend longer inspecting them but had no time. Instead, we resolved to make bandages and ensure we had water for cleaning wounds in case of a second feeding tonight. A close check of our bedclothes showed no signs of bleeding while we had slept.
As we had hoped, the scarlet silks we had traded for last year were simple to fashion into a broad fold about our necks and knot on the opposite side from the bites. They covered our mistress’s marks comfortably. Quite the most colourful objects we owned, we thought they looked rather fetching. We had found precious little excuse to wear them over the past year, wanting to save them for special occasions, but the mundanity of our lives meant we had only used them once, for our coming-of-age ceremony in the spring.
To placate Mother’s displeasure with our recent struggles to rise, we apologised and quickly won her over with a double-teamed cuddle. Father remarked how good the silks looked as neckerchiefs and asked why we chose to wear them that day. We thanked him for his compliment, lying that we felt we should get more use from them, then shared a conspiratorial grin when Ma and Da were not looking.
The unforgiving sun showed no signs of relenting, so the day was sweltering, but happily work was light. That afternoon we were supposed to practise archery, which afforded us some private time at the very riverbank we had enjoyed with Layla a few days ago. Barely able to contain our joy at last night’s revelations, we practically skipped our way, eager to chat under some welcome shade by the cooling water.
Eagerly, we used the seclusion to get a better look at our bites. Tender rather than sore, every turn of the head brought happy reminders of our lover’s secret nature. All morning it had been tempting to tease ourselves with subtle motions, stretching the skin of our necks to recall the bliss of her bite, but we had denied ourselves, concerned they might start bleeding again.
Upon inspection, we convinced ourselves they were healing with unnatural haste but, in all honesty, little had changed since that morning. The bruising was a shade more pronounced but had not spread far from the incisions. A happy half an hour or so was wasted scrutinising them, trying to comprehend the enormity of the secret we now bore, buried within our flesh.
As we sat in the shade, fixated on each other’s wounds, quietly reflecting on how we got them, fragments of the feeding incessantly repeating in my memory. Layla stalking towards me, the initial pain of the bite, her robust arms around me, the otherworldly experience of exsanguination, Dahlk’s mark like ice across my forehead, screaming our vampire’s name again and again. All cherished moments I would obsess over forever.
Eventually, with some reluctance, we felt we should do some archery. Father had insisted we demonstrate enough proficiency to feed ourselves on our journeys before he would be happy with letting us go. We favoured numerous spots about the woods for practice, the riverbank happened to be shady and cool, so it was there we took turns, shooting, then recovering our arrows. Despite our elven heritage, and how absurdly good Mother was, we were only mediocre archers at best, but trying to get better.
Talking while we trained, our conversation remained in orbit around our beloved. We knew the threat vampires posed, of course; we just did not care. Mother had told us many tales of folklore and mystery; coded warnings hidden in fables to keep safe the wary. All those stories paled in the face of the confident certainty our love bestowed upon us.
“It occurs to me, Sum, this might be the first time we know more about something than Mother does,” I remarked as I lined up a shot, targeting a knot on a tree twenty paces away. My arrow hit the tree but missed the mark. Mother was filled with the lore of a thousand subjects, accumulated over nearly two hundred years, but we were our vampire’s lovers. Her cool fingers had taken our maidenheads, her fangs had taken our blood and we not only survived, but we loved it. Mother’s cautionary tales were gravely mistaken at best or were lies she unwittingly spread at worst.
“I believe so. I would never have guessed vampires would be it though. Not nearly as scary as we were led to believe, for starters. When she was scaring us with her tales, she never mentioned how incredible they were at intercourse,” Summer laughed.
“Once again, Sum, we were six. Probably a bit young to be warning your daughters about finger fucking,” and I joined in the laughter. “I suppose there is Dahlk too. We know how to pray properly. A little. I am not sure Mother has even ever mentioned her. How are you feeling about joining with the dark goddess?”
“Quite humbled, actually. No other deity has shown the least interest in us. I never imagined any deity ever would. Why should they? I get gooseflesh thinking of it. A goddess touched our dreams, touched our bodies. Us, a couple of peasant girls, half-elf nobodies. Well, nobodies until we met Layla. Now we shall be something grand. Lovers of the most beautiful vampire and servants of an outcast goddess because someone as special as Layla deems us worthy. Tell me you feel it too, Win,” Summer shared, striding back and forth animatedly.
“Oh, I do. I feel like we are learning what we could be in the world. Since Layla came into our lives, I believe I could be anything, do anything, achieve anything. So long as we are true to our beloved and our pact, anything is possible. We always used to worried what would happen if one of us fell in love with some boy. But being united in loving the same person; I never imagined it could even happen. Oh, Summer, I am so happy I could scream,” I said as I spun around, giddy at my own delight.
“Save that for tonight. I fancy making Layla scream a bit,” Summer added.
“Bit,” I repeated as the word jumped out at me. “Nnn. Want.” I carefully caressed my wound like it was sacred.
“Fuuuck, yes,” Summer said, craning her neck to present to an imaginary Layla, before shrugging off her disappointment that we were alone. “But, if we are so sure we can now be anything, what is it that we want?”
“Layla’s fangs in my neck,” I replied honestly. Summer arched an eyebrow. “Sorry, that was the first thing on my mind. I know, I know. We promised we would not obsess over her bite to the detriment of our love. All I truly want is to be with her. To be bound to her in every way imaginable, to grow closer and closer until we are one being in three bodies. Being regularly bitten for the rest of our lives might help achieve that. I want her to be our sister.”
Summer nodded sagely, placed both hands over her heart and said, “Total agreement here, sis. Speaking of being bound… do you know the part of vampire tales that really gets me going?” I suspected I did but remained silent. “That they could make you do their bidding just by looking at you. Take control of your mind and turn you into some sort of slave.”
“Oh, goddess bless, yes. A slave, a willing slave,” I said, thrilled by the erotic possibilities. Now we were bound to Layla, and she had turned out to be the best of all possible partners, what was once terrifying about vampires was now invested with limitless erotic potential. “Of course, I do. It is gets me wet every time. What is your point?”
“Well, do you not find it amusing that Mother told us to fear those dread powers that could rob us of our wills when it turns out Layla has been withholding the delights of her bite since we met for fear of clouding our judgement? Firstly, that makes us the luckiest girls in the world, secondly, it is clear Mother was wildly misinformed about the true nature of vampires and, lastly, if she has the power of influence or control or whatever you want to call it, I would really like her to use it on me.”
“Dahlk willing, yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” I enthused. “How ridiculous to think Layla would need to exercise magical influence on us to feed. We would do anything for her because we love her, we would submit to her because it is hot as fuck, and we want her to feed from us because it is the most incredible experience imaginable. Her magic has no effect on how we feel at all.”
I got a momentary notion that I was repeating myself. Perhaps I was? Something nagged at me that what I was saying did not tally with events. If the thought of receiving her bite was such an all-consuming need for me, was that not her power affecting me? No, her magic had no effect on how I felt at all, I silently repeated like a mantra and hurriedly dismissed the thought.
“True. It seems to me that love is enough of a bond in itself. Why would anyone not do everything they could to feel the way we do? To protect it, to preserve it? Perhaps most people never get to feel a love this pure? Perhaps their idea of love is just a good friendship. If so, I pity them. Perhaps that is why people fear vampires? Love has made us want things that would have seemed madness a week ago. That probably scares a lot of ordinary people and their humdrum lives. Well, our lives are going to be exceptional, dear sister,” Summer declared, embracing her arrogance.
“I believe it, with all my heart and soul. You know I do,” I agreed as I took aim again.
“If we are already bound to her by love, and we get off on ‘the kneeling thing’ as much as we clearly do,” Summer and I squirmed in pleasure at that, delaying my shot, “then we should ask her tonight if she has such powers. You know… to ask her to use them on us.”
“Are you ever not thinking with your quim, Sum? Well, you certainly know what you want,” I admitted as I let my arrow fly. It struck the tree with a pleasing sound, getting much closer but still missing my mark. Keep trying, I heard the memory of Father’s words echo in my head. Though often stern, he was always so patient in his encouragement.
“You should be grateful. If I had not kissed her, we might not be where we are now. She might never have fucked us,” Summer claimed.
“I am quietly confident she would have fucked us sooner or later,” I said, then it struck me afresh. “Fucked by a woman. In love with a woman. It is still incredible to me. I never felt like this before. Is it just Layla that makes us feel this way, do you think?”
Summer looked perturbed. “You tell me. What do you think of, say… Eliza Miller?” she quizzed. There was an odd, unexpected urgency in her asking, a subtle aggression.
The miller’s daughter was only two years older than us. We had played together a few times as children. While we had less to do with her these days, we always caught up at the fayre. She was very complimentary about our new dresses, as we were likewise about her flower crown. She had a good sense of humour and was always kind to us, so we liked her.
“Eliza? She’s nice. Never gave us any shit for being half-bloods, unlike some villagers I could mention. Always up for a laugh. I like her,” I answered obliviously.
“Yes, yes, she’s very nice. But do you ‘like’ her?” Summer pressed.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, realising I had missed the point of her question. “Let me think. She has great hair, such curls, lovely colour, goes well with how brown her eyes are. Good hips and, my word, her breasts are… oh…”
I visualised Eliza’s bosom. She had developed, as humans often did, more prominently than we. I recall once, before we hit puberty, trying not to make it obvious I was stealing envious glances at them. Now I thought about how they might look naked, wondered what her nipples were like, how they might feel on my lips. Tumbling, one thought after another, I speculated what her quim looked like, how she would feel under my fingers, what would it be like if we did to her the things we did with Layla. Increasingly sexual imagery flashed through my mind and made my breath shallow and rapid. It was rude to think of an acquaintance so salaciously, but once I had started it was hard to stop. Yes, all other things being equal I could imagine welcoming the chance to fuck her. So, I did like women, or perhaps I was just a slut. Either way, it was a moment of recognition that there had been a profound and bewildering alteration in who I was.
“Well?” Summer asked, interrupting my reverie. I had been lost in thought for a span.
“Um… yes… maybe I do like women now?” I admitted. A couple of days ago I had been sure that was not the case. That was quite a metamorphosis. I did not feel bad about it, but instead of feeling joy at the realisation of what I now was, the sudden shift in sexuality left me perplexed. My love for Layla was beyond question, but how could it have altered my preferences? Did I still like boys? I felt oddly uninvolved in my reorientation. It was like I had entered our bedroom and found someone had rearranged all the furniture. Surely, I would have noticed the change at some earlier stage? Its mystery hinted at some deeper truth that eluded me.
I expected more of a reaction from Summer as I openly declared my sexuality but, instead, she looked away and fiddled with her quiver. Something was wrong. I stepped around but she turned away. Knowing her as well as myself, I could tell she was trying not to cry.
“Summer, what is it? Did I say something wrong?” I asked, concerned I had been obliviously thoughtless, desperately hoping she did not disapprove of my new sexual identity. I would be horrified if she did not feel the same way. My realisation was so new I had not given my sister’s orientation any thought.
She smiled back at me, eyes brimming, shaking her head. “No, Win. It is just…” she paused, searching for an answer, unsure of herself. “Such a lot has happened so quickly. I am happy. Ridiculously happy, believe me. Layla has done so much for us. Opened your eyes. It is just… everything is changing, we are changing, which is wonderful, and I want it. But I do not ever want ‘us’ to change. As sisters, you know? We can be whatever we want to be with her, so long as we remain as one.”
Relieved I had not upset her, I placed a consoling hand on her arm and said, “Always, Sum. You and me always. There is no other way. We are changing and it will take some getting used to. I was so sure women did nothing for me but ever since Layla entered our lives, hells, since she entered us, my libido has gone crazy. I cannot stop thinking about rutting.”
“Oh, me too. It is like a dam has broken and now sex and bites and blood flood my thoughts,” Summer sympathised. “Anyway, we were talking about whether she could control us, like in the tales.”
“Yes,” I said. Summer was shifting the subject away from what had upset her and hoping I would not notice. Did she not like women quite the way I now did? Was it just Layla for her? Regardless, if she was not ready to talk about it, I would shelve the topic and return to it later. When Summer was distressed, it was often easiest to let her go whatever way she wanted and just follow. One of our ‘twin things’ was each of us often knew when the other was out of sorts before the upset sister did. “Very well. Tonight, we will ask Layla if she can control us. Even if she cannot, I want to kneel before her again. Be her pet. I would love that.”
“Good. I wonder if she really is a mage, learned magic in a tower or some such, or is all her power part of being a vampire?” Summer switched topic again.
I responded, “I have been meaning to ask about her magic since she turned into that lioness. Goddess, that was amazing. There is still so much we should know but I keep getting distracted with her fingers or ‘the kneeling thing’ and now the bite. She barely gives us time to think.”
“True, but who cares? Every night has been wilder than the last and we are having the time of our lives. It is so much more incredible than anything we had planned for our travels. Perhaps the pace of our nights will tail off eventually, but it is quite the torrent at present. I say embrace it. If Layla says she will be our guide or teach us magic or induct us into the worship of Dahlk, we should do as she wills. She is our life now,” Summer was trembling with an excitement that mirrored my own.
“She is everything. We will always be hers and just as we belong to her, she belongs to us. We won her heart. Such good fortune overawes me, praise be to Dahlk,” I said, then, on impulse, I kissed two of my fingers and touched my forehead where the mark had sat until the first light of dawn. Summer looked at me quizzically for a moment, nodded and then did the same. I felt guided by our goddess and accepted my actions as perfectly normal. We were devotees now.
“So, if she can enchant us, what terms should we ask for?” I wondered. “Assuming we would get a choice.”
“I do not want to know. I want her to decide all that. I want it to be her will alone. I want to be a mindless puppet. Nnn! It drives me to the brink just saying it,” as Summer spoke, her hand made a single probing pass over her quim. “What she does to us, how deep it runs. I want more.”
“Oh yes, but I would much rather know it was happening and be unable to stop myself. Compelled, forced to obey, helpless to resist. Oh, my word, that works for me,” I was getting aroused so swiftly I caught myself absently stroking my breast. When did we become so lewd?
“Well as you wish, so long as we both get controlled,” Summer conceded. “If, and it is a big if, it is something Layla can do. Let us not get to ahead of ourselves. Oh, but what if she can? Nnn! Come. No! Bad choice of words. Let us finish practice before we have to do something about this quim heat.”
That gave me the giggles as I collected my arrows from the tree and let Summer take her turn. Though our skills were limited, one thing archery was good for was focus. But today, no sooner had Summer taken aim than she pondered aloud, “Which do you prefer: being fucked or fed from?”
“Focus, Summer!” I barked.
“Yes, Winter,” Summer loosed her arrow and the head dug into the very spot on the tree I had been vainly orbiting.
“Good shot,” I complimented. “Now do it again.”
Summer drew aim and just as she was about to release, I said, “Fed from. No. Fucked. No, fed from. Maybe. Oh, I cannot be sure if there is a difference. The bite felt like its own kind of fucking.” She missed the tree altogether and swore in frustration.
“Perhaps we can get her to combine both?” Summer suggested. We exchanged a look, laden with revelation, and set ourselves a new life goal without saying another word.
By that point we were Layla’s creatures. Once she had drunk our blood, whatever we were telling ourselves, we worshipped her. Exsanguination was an emotionally and spiritually transformative experience, and we simply had no real understanding of how much it had changed us.
During the feeding, I experienced a fleeting notion that more than blood was taken from me, as if Layla had siphoned a fraction of my soul. It was a purely fanciful notion at the time; how was I to know what it felt like to have part of one’s soul removed? Nonetheless, I was trying my best to make sense of something so intense I was still experiencing it on some level more than half a day later. The brutality of the bloodletting was lost on me. It simply seemed an extension of all those delightful carnal pleasures she had visited upon us, so it did not occur to me to question it. Taking our blood was amazing and made us feel special. If the price for that was part of our souls, we did not care, even if we should have in hindsight.
Later, over dinner with our parents, we brought up the possibility of bringing our travels forward to this year, before the end of summer, using the pretext that we might go as far as the beacons to see them in autumn. Both were initially against our idea, saying once winter arrived, we would have fewer chances to find work and hunting game would be harder. Both made good points, but we knew we would be leaving home soon one way or another and had no idea if we would ever return. That being the case we much preferred to do so with our parents’ blessing.
We had anticipated their negativity but knew how to work them round. Mentioning the concept was the first step towards persuasion. There was no need to press the issue now but being of age, they could not stop us if we decided to go. They knew that as well as we, but no one dared voice that irrevocable alteration in our relationship because we all loved each other so.
That night, as we readied ourselves for our assignation, we tied our silks around our wrists in a nod to how Layla had worn her scarf the previous evening. Then we wove our hair into plaits expressly so our necks would be easier to access if Layla felt as thirsty for our blood as we felt for her. We fancied we were getting better at making our stealthy escapes after all the recent practice. It helped that our steadily growing fatigue from insufficient sleep evaporated as soon as the sun went down as anticipation at seeing our beloved grew. We idly wondered if devoting ourselves to the goddess of darkness made a difference to feeling energised at night.
As we strolled briskly through the gloom, picking our way through the forest, Summer ventured, “I am conflicted. I hope to be collared again, but not if it spoils the chance of being bitten.” She spoke in a whisper, though we were far enough from the cabin to make it unlikely we could wake our slumbering parents. I shrugged and nodded.
“Obviously, I would love to be collared too, though it might chafe our bites. It is still sensitive. Oh dear, what a terrible problem for poor us. Having to choose between ecstasy or bliss,” I mocked, eliciting a guffaw from Summer. “Nonetheless, I do want to try them again. Layla putting them on us the other night made the fantasy of being her pets seem so real,” I considered.
Though I thought my reasoning sound, I realised calling what we did a fantasy was inaccurate. Our submission had felt very real indeed. “Remember that long wait when we did not know if she would remove them or not? If she had told us to keep them on, I would have. That made the wait for her decision really light my fire, so to speak. Her having authority over us… nnn! So good.”
The doubts of only a few nights ago were gone. We knew Layla would be waiting for us in the usual place and so it was. Tonight, she wore a dark green dress with a matching shoulder bag, a thin plait, tightly woven over a centre parting, the sides falling in snowy curls down to her waist. Were her tresses longer? Where was she keeping all these dresses? Those and a hundred other questions about her history, her powers, and our goddess, slipped from our minds like water off a knife blade the moment we entered her presence. The curves of her body, the grace of her movements, the radiance of her face. A vision who swapped our wits for bliss. A fair trade it seemed at the time.
The one question that remained was if our beloved could fulfil our latest burning desire but even that was stilled on our tongues. Through our passionate, welcoming embrace, we discovered our blood still kept her body warm. A rush of joy flooded through me to be reminded we dwelt within her, and the memory of her fangs, dug into my throat, blazed across my brain anew.
Between kisses, we begged for our marks to be reapplied to honour our goddess and Layla was more than happy to oblige. We slipped to our knees automatically, neophytes deferring to our priestess. Layla prayed over us, and I felt some measure of purification when she spoke of emptying our hearts of falsehoods. We prayed Dahlk would approve of our devotions and protect our secrets in exchange for opening our souls to her darkness.
With Layla’s hand upon my head, I saw the moon through the trees, almost fully waned. I closed my eyes to shut out its light and realised that the personal umbra behind them was always with me, therefore Dahlk was always with me. I dedicated this revelation to my goddess and invited her to live within my darkness always. The coolness of her mark sanctified my brow as belief seeped through my soul.
With our consecration complete, I was filled with gratitude. “Thank you for introducing us to Dahlk. We feel we truly have a connection to the Dark Lady and are more at ease with ourselves because of it,” I confessed.
“We are so grateful, Layla. You are already guiding us, though we have not even left the valley yet,” Summer added.
“I am very pleased you begin to feel her grace, my loves. It is my belief that you shall not be tested by her until you are ready. As the goddess of loss, her lessons can be painful, but her love was the only reason I survived my most trying moments. Fear not, for I shall always be with you,” Layla replied sincerely.
“Yes, Layla,” we said, focused on her words but not their significance, which seemed less important than the distracting sexual energy generated between us by kneeling before her. The blessing over, without thinking I tried to rise but found I could not. Freshly reconsecrated some part of me insisted I remain on my knees until our priestess said otherwise.
A vivid quirk of imagination conjured a phantom, slim, silver chain fastened deep within my quim running to the ground, securing me in place, making my submission sweeter with each moment. But then Layla bade us stand, and the weird, servile reverie evaporated, leaving me slightly reeling at the bizarre pathways my mind took.
We accepted her hands, entwined our fingers, echoing the entwining of our lives, and began our nightly wander through the woods. Our curiosity returned as we walked, so after exchanging pleasantries about our day, Summer wasted no time steering the conversation, “So, Layla, do you sleep during the day?
“I do. The night welcomes me in ways the day has not since I became as I am,” Layla revealed.
“So that part of the legends is true?” I asked.
“I am a nightwalker. Darkness is my home. The sun and I have been strangers for the longest time. It is anathema to me. Another reason I embraced Dahlk,” Layla replied. With no hint that our questions were unwelcome, Summer pressed on.
“There are so many stories. They cannot all be true. Vampires are said to be able to charm people, to influence their minds, controlling them. Can you do that?” Summer asked, making her agenda obvious.
Layla’s expression was both intrigued and amused. Since that night by the bonfire, the mobility of her face had fascinated me. From those withering expressions with which she dismissed the advances of those young men, to the remarkable animation she displayed that made us feel so special, part of the joy of looking at my beloved was wondering what her face would do next.
“I can influence people in a variety of ways as you know. But if you are asking, can I affect them so they obey my will, the answer is yes, I can,” Layla coolly regarded Summer then narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
Summer felt a little exposed, I could tell. I was about to interject when her courage returned.
“I want you to influence me, to make me obey your will, with your magic. I very much desire to know what that feels like,” she said.
“Why?” Layla wondered, bemused. Summer paced a few steps away to collect her thoughts, then turned and spoke.
“Last night, we told you about how we found your true nature alluring, long before we knew what you were, how we had fantasised about vampires for years, how we had imagined being bitten. None of our preconceptions even came close to how extraordinary your bite actually is, by the way. Thank you for indulging us,” Summer said, going a little off track. “Anyway, the chief reason we had found the idea of vampires so arousing was the tales of them influencing the minds of their victims.”
“I do not care for the term ‘victims’. No one I feed from regrets it,” Layla interrupted. “I prefer ‘mutuals’. I take blood, they receive… well, you know what they receive.”
“Mutuals is a lovely term. We are honoured to be your mutuals. Please forgive my phrasing, I meant no disrespect and would never knowingly say anything to upset you,” Summer said, touching the back of Layla’s hand.
“I would forgive you anything, Summer. Do not worry about it,” Layla placated as she stroked the side of Summer’s face. Seeing how freely intimate they were with each other gave me such a satisfied glow. I was blessed to be bound to them both.
“So, what I am saying is that the idea of such a power is very much a huge part of what we always found enticing about vampires. If you possess such a power, we humbly ask that you use it on us so we can experience the reality that has stimulated our dreams for so long,” Summer said, struggling to supress the arousal in her voice.
“You know the depths of my love for you both. I find it impossible to deny you anything that is within my power to bestow, but this is quite the request. You are fascinating individuals, and I adore you both just the way you are,” Layla explained, making us grin. “To compel you would be to rob you of that individuality, to make you less you.”
A tension was building between us as we waited to see which way our beloved would go. We knew for a fact she enjoyed dominating us and she knew we had a wonderful time being her well-trained pets. Would the two of us have to pressure her again, as we did before when we persuaded her to fuck us and drink us?
“Also, there is the matter of your strength of mind. It has not escaped my notice that the two of you harry me as hounds about a hind when you want something,” Layla said. Ah, so she realised we did that. Of course, she did. Smart woman. “This leads me to suspect that if your wills are as formidable as I believe they are, you might be resistant to my influence.”
“We would give ourselves over to your will as best we can. Perhaps there was something we could do that would make it easier for you,” I said revealing my desires with a remarkable lack of subtlety.
“Come now, Layla, equally it cannot have escaped your notice that you have us in thrall. We adore you, are devoted to you, hang on your every word, have accepted the blessing of our goddess on your say so and trust you with our lifeblood. I think we will be easier to affect than you pretend,” Summer said. “We have already let you cast a number of spells on us, though it has had no effect on how we feel about you at all.”
There was that phrase again. Naturally, Summer felt the same on the matter as I, but while we believed in it whole-heartedly, this time it rang a discordant note within the symphony of desire and exploration we were playing. I ignored it once more to get back to the matter at hand, but it was quietly growing more insistent at the back of my mind.
“What about the chokers?” I suggested. “Would they put us in the right frame of mind for your powers?”
“Good idea, Win. Yes, we agreed to do anything you wanted when you put them on us. You can still hold us to that,” Summer said, as if I had played a trump card. “Surely that would help?”
“When you wore those, you were very agreeable and obedient pets, it is true,” Layla said with palpable delectation. “But that was your choice. You were choosing to do what I asked.”
“It did not feel like we were choosing anything after a while, just doing as we were told,” I pointed out.
“True. That was you finding your submissive natures and letting them become paramount for a time. But it was a choice to do that, even if that led to a temporary lack of choice. Had I asked you to take a course of action you did not want to do you could have refused. Am I correct in thinking what you want is to have those choices supressed?” Layla asked.
“Right as always, beloved,” Summer said. “I want to know what it is like to have my mind smothered, to not think at all but still do as you command. Winter wants something a little different.”
“I like the idea of knowing I am under your power, feeling compelled to obey, no matter what I think or feel, but being aware your will is directing me,” I explained as clearly as I could. It was absurdly easy to share these intricate private fantasies with our beloved, almost like we were talking to ourselves. Happily, it did not bother either of us that we wanted slightly different forms of control, they were essentially the same thing, like alternative vintages of the same wine. I marvelled at Layla as she absorbed our words. So wise, thoughtful, indulgent of her lovers. Could a partner be any more perfect?
“Well, you have given this a lot of thought,” Layla admitted.
That felt true but at the same time there was something peculiar about the way these long held fantasies fitted into the spaces they occupied in my head. I could not recall when I first considered them or how I realised what I wanted a vampire to do to me, but standing next to our lover there was a disorienting unreality to how perfectly she matched my desires.
In my mind’s eye I tried to recall the first time I imagined a vampire ravishing me but the only image I could conjure was of Layla. I cannot have always fantasied about someone I had never met before. That was impossible. I rationalised the contradiction by accepting my obsession with her had co-opted all my old desires and memories. Moreover, I then found the idea of Layla living in my mind and devouring all my secret fantasies to make them about her turned me on.
“We have,” Summer declared. “So, you might as well do as we ask now, or we will give you no peace until you give in.” Layla laughed hard at that.
“Very well. If this is your wish,” Layla said.
“It is!” we excitedly confirmed.
“Then let me try to see if I can exert my influence over you both,” Layla conceded making our hearts leap.
“Yes, please,” we said in eager unison. “Control us.”