His Captive Mortal

His Captive Mortal

By

Renee Rose

Copyright © 2015 by Baronet Press All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction, intended for adults.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously by the author. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents
 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

About the Author

Chapter One

Sasha exited the Tucson Center for the Developmentally Disabled at midnight, exhausted from her shift. She scanned the dark downtown streets for anyone she ought to avoid on her five block walk to her duplex. Downtown should lend comfort in numbers, but unless it was a weekend, the only people who roamed Congress Street after midnight were looking for trouble.

A man approached and while he didn’t look menacing, she held her keys pointed through her knuckles the way she’d learned in her college self-defense class, then added her own self-devised protection—imagining a giant ball of light surrounding her.

The moment she pictured it, the man stopped in his tracks, staring as if he could see it. Her breath froze in her chest, heart pounding.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Is this for me?” he drawled in a sexy British accent.

Vampire.

She didn’t know how she could tell, but the word entered her mind clearly.

His grin broadened, showing sharp canines. “Yes,” he purred as if she’d spoken the word aloud. “And you are…what? Fey? Or a witchling?” He cocked his head to the side, “Priestess?” He extended his fingertips in the air, touching what would be the edge of her ball of light and suddenly she saw it, too—a shimmering white wall of protection that rippled and repelled his touch. A shiver traveled up her spine.

Even in the low light of the street she could tell he was beautiful with rumpled blond hair and pork chop style side burns. Deep dimples crinkled now as he looked at her creation with apparent fascination. He turned the glittering gaze on her, locking eyes.

Energy shifted within her and her belly seemed to move to the left as her chest moved to the right. Her bubble of light vanished. Gasping, she tensed to run, and he smiled wider.

“Oh yes, do run, little fairy. I so love a good chase.”

She stumbled backward. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a fairy or a witch. I’m nobody—just a counselor at the School for the Disabled.”

He walked casually forward as she continued backing away. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“What? The bubble?” She shook her head. “I don’t know—I just invented it, I guess.”

“Powerful,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Do you do other magic?”

She shook her head, looking around for anyone who might help her. “No, sir.” She didn’t know where the sir came from, but it amused him and he beamed another toothy grin, his fangs seeming to lengthen before her eyes.

It had been the eye contact that had burst the bubble. All she had to do was avoid looking directly at him. She threw another bubble up around her and took off running as fast as she could. His laughter rang out behind her, but she didn’t hear footsteps in pursuit. Still, the hairs on her head stood up, warning her of something. She ran the five blocks to her duplex and jabbed her key into the lock. Once inside, she checked the latches on the doors and windows, trying to catch her breath.

A stake through the heart. That was how you killed a vampire. And garlic. She looked around wildly for any kind of wooden stick. There—the dowel in her little wall hanging. It might work. It was three quarter inches thick and 18 inches long. She brought it to the kitchen and began frantically carving the end into a crude point.

She almost screamed when she heard a knock on the door, but then her neighbor’s voice called out, “Hey, Sasha, you got any smokes?”

“No, Jane! I don’t smoke, remember?” she called back.

“Well, can I come in?” Jane asked.

Crap.

She went to the door, sharpened stake in hand, and opened it. Somehow, she was not at all surprised to see the vampire leaning in the door frame.

“Go back to your side,” he said softly to Jane, whose eyes were glassy and unfocused. Her neighbor trotted obediently away, clearly mesmerized by the vampire.

Even as her brain processed it, her eyes slid to his and she became lost in the ice blue pools, her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right.

“Come in,” she heard herself say.

He grinned broadly and pushed past her into the apartment.

The moment their gaze broke, her wits returned and she launched herself at him, aiming for the middle of his upper back with the sharpened dowel.

He whirled and caught her wrist so quickly she didn’t see it happen, but outrage registered on his features, fangs elongating as he hissed.

She screamed at the sight, a fresh batch of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Wrestling the dowel from her, he snatched her up around the waist and carried her, kicking and squirming to her living room.

Oh God, she was done for now. She should’ve eaten a head of garlic or had some other defense ready against getting drained by a thirsty leech.

He plopped down on her sofa and, to her surprise, flopped her face down over his lap. “That was extremely rude,” he informed her, slapping her upturned ass. “I expect a more gracious welcome when I come to call.” He smacked her again.

Something between a laugh and a sob burst out of her when he began to spank her in earnest, her relief at not becoming vamp-food so immediate. But then, he might be just getting his jollies before he bit her vein. She struggled against his hold, but his arm around her waist was like steel. Well, duh—he probably had superhuman strength.

He began to strike harder and she wriggled against the sting, though it was thankfully muffled by her jeans. In some bizarre coping mechanism, she began to count the slaps. By thirty-five, her butt was on fire, the pain growing exponentially with each new smack.

“Ow! Stop it!” she protested, but he continued to punish her without answering.

The absurdity of lying over a vampire’s lap for a spanking struck her and she began to giggle out loud, her shock and stress coming out in a rush of sobbing laughs.

He stopped and she sagged in relief, thinking it was over only to realize his hand was at the button of her jeans. He hauled her to her feet and held her legs, looking up into her eyes. Her face grew warm under his gaze, and heat snaked through her core, running down her inner thighs, all the way to her arches.

There was a reason vampires were regarded as sexy. The fury had disappeared from the immortal’s expression and the fangs had receded. Now he held only amused, if not arrogant command. “Pull down your pants.”

He must not have used the glamour, or whatever folklore called vampire hypnosis, because she did not feel the odd pulling sensation. “W-what?” she cried, clutching at her button. “No way!”

The corner of his lips lifted and he unbuttoned them for her, shoving her hands away and slowly pulling both her jeans and her panties down. She tried to catch them, twisting her hips to and fro, but he gave one yank and they arrived mid-thigh, her lady parts clearly exposed to his satisfied gaze.

The muscles in her pussy quivered. She held her shirt down, trying to cover her bare cleft as she stood on trembling legs in the humiliating position. She needed to figure out how to get away from him—or how to protect herself, except some part of her remained frozen, transfixed by the situation. What would he do next?

“Defiance will earn you extra punishment, my dear,” he said with the same predatory smile he’d given when she’d been ready to run out on the street. As if he were a cat and she was his mouse. Oh yes, do run, little fairy. I so love a good chase. Crap. That meant he was just playing with his food before he ate it. Or drank it, as the case may be. Ice ran through her veins.

He picked up her wooden dowel and bent her back over his knee. One smack and she howled, wishing she’d never pulled it from the wall-hanging. She twisted, trying to cover her naked ass with her hand, but he caught her wrist and bent her arm behind her back. He began to spank her in earnest with the implement.

“Ooomph. Ow!” she yelped, squeezing her eyes shut. The stake stung on her bare flesh. She kicked her legs, which made him chuckle. He beat a steady rhythm, as if the dowel were a drumstick and her flinching bottom were the drum. “Ooh. Ouch! Stop it!”

“You’re getting a spanking, my dear,” he said. “You’ve earned it. There’s nothing you can do to stop it now.”

On and on he spanked while she bobbed and wriggled to no avail. Her entire bottom blazing and certain she couldn’t take any more, she cried, “All right! All right, vampire...I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” he said, pausing in his assault on her lovely cheeks, then giving her three more spanks in quick succession. “Magic words. Say it like you mean it,” he purred. The pleasure of having a lovely girl over his knee sent the familiar sense of arousal and power coursing through his body. His momentary irritation with her attempt on his life had long since been eclipsed by the enjoyment of spanking her bare wriggling ass.

“I—I’m sorry, vampire,” she cried in a rush, obviously reaching the limits of her pain threshold. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you with a stake. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

He chuckled and gave her another swift volley of spanks. “I’m not sure I believe you.” He had delivered a sound spanking by this point, and the hue of her firm, round buttocks had turned from pink to plum. He was surprised, but not disappointed, she had not shed any tears yet. For him the pleasure was not in breaking a girl, but in the dance of taming her. He preferred a woman with pluck, and clearly this one had taken her cues from Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.

“Owww,” she whined. “Please, vampire. I’m sorry.” She still sounded more pissed off than sorry, but he stopped anyway. He had proven his point.

He broke off the sharp tip of the wooden stake, then snapped the length in half, dropping the pieces on the floor. “That’s probably the best you can give me for now,” he mused, running a cool hand over her bare cheeks, the heat delicious. As he continued to make lazy circles over her swollen bottom, his cock, already hard from spanking her, twitched against her hip.

She stiffened.

“No, little fairy,” he said, lifting her to stand and pulling her jeans and panties up as she winced and tried to rub. He batted her hands away and guided her onto his lap. “That’s not what I want from you.”

She squirmed, her bottom obviously too chafed to be comfortable on his hard thighs, but he held her firmly in place. Her hand slid to cover the alluring artery at her throat.

“I didn’t come for that, either.”

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

“For your magic, my dear.”

A look of confusion shadowed her youthful face. “I don’t have any magic.”

“Ah, but you do, and it is quite powerful. Your protection bubble out there dazzled. I’ll need you to learn to use your skill, because there’s a curse that needs undoing.”

She shook her head. “I can’t help you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her expression held defiance, but he detected panic beneath it.

He stroked a wisp of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I need your power, little fairy. You may not even realize you have it, but you do, and I’m not going to leave you alone until you’ve solved my dilemma.”

She began to blink rapidly, her chest moving wildly with shallow breaths.

“Ah,” he said, softening his expression. “There are the tears.”

“I’m not crying!” she glared, but her brave expression crumpled, and a choked sob erupted from her throat.