Sips of Blood (15 page)

"I can't wait for your decision,
monsieur."

The man on the porch walked over to the Eton
Bench and lifted it easily. As he started for the front door
Garrett quickly reached out for the knob.

"Thank you,
monsieur.
I will certainly
need your assistance when I reach the
donjon.
If you
remember, there's a terrible kink in the stairs."

Garrett remembered. He remembered the
placement of the whips, floggers, canes, manacles. He remembered
his lowly position. On his knees and hands. Head down, ass raised
in the air. He thought of all this as he moved through the house,
knowing where the dungeon door was without thinking.

The dungeon always remained cooler than the
upstairs. When he opened the door a cool breeze sped by him.

"Thank you again,
monsieur.
Would you
mind leading the way down the staircase? You can then warn me of
any obstacles that may be in the way."

The wooden steps were unfinished. Rough
splinters protruded from the pine. Garrett grabbed the metal hand
railing. The steps were steep, and he did not want to add to his
bruises. At least he didn't consciously think he did.

"It is
très gentil
of you to assist
me. Often I have been down
ici,
but with such a large load I
thought it best to have someone along."

"Then why didn't you wait for..."

"Marie?"

"Marie."

"I wanted to set up before she got home.
Une surprise."

Garrett reached the kink in the staircase and
turned to face the older man.

"We may have run into a problem. Would you
like me to help squeeze that thing around the turn?"

"Eton bench,
monsieur.
Patterned after
the one designed at the school. It is used for the birching or
caning of
les élèves."

"My French is poor, but you did say for
caning students?"

"Oui, monsieur.
Some extra restraint
straps have been added for my special purposes."

The older man cleared the turn easily. His
strength and agility amazed Garrett. The rest of the trip down the
stairs went swiftly. At the base of the staircase the older man did
not bother to rest; instead he carried his burden over to the
opposite end of the dungeon--an end that sat in complete darkness.
Garrett recalled that
La Maîtresse
always kept the stairway
light on, but the dungeon lights she adjusted to the situation.

"Are you okay?" Garrett called.

The man came out of the dark with a smile and
not a hint of being out of breath.

"Ça va très bien."
A lean man, he
stood perhaps five-feet- two or three inches, but exuded confidence
and knowledge. His features were attractive, and his blue eyes
seemed to send out an inferno of warmth.

"Who are you?" Garrett asked.

"Louis Sade."

Letcher, Rin Tin Tin, and now Sade.

"What's your real name?"

"Donatien Alphonse Françoise de Sade."

The man's eyes sparkled. Garrett would have
laughed except... No, Garrett thought,
this is ridiculous. This
old man is simply taking on a persona, a rather twisted historical
role that conveniently portrays his fantasy.
This Garrett could
understand.

"I guess I should admit to being Leopold von
Sacher-Masoch."

"Ah! But his encounters were only with women.
Can you say the same?"

Garrett felt a heat flush through the skin of
his face. He wished he could answer 'yes.' Staring into the other
man's eyes, he knew the man couldn't be lied to.

Louis walked over to the controls of the
track lighting and slowly raised the level of light, but still kept
the light dim enough to cast shadows across his own face.

"I would appreciate additional assistance
from you,
monsieur.
The Eton bench, it must be set up and
tested."

Chapter 27

Marie watched Wil fill the car with
groceries. A mundane chore of which she willingly followed every
nuance. The tattered chambray shirt rode closely on his muscles.
The rolled-up sleeves revealed the definition of his blood vessels.
His hands were large but slender, with a recently made paper-cut
marking his right thumb. The smell of the blood reached her
quickly. Luscious and warm. The low-slung jeans draped his hips the
way in which she wanted to, curving into his loins to capture his
heat. The taste of salty blood and semen, only a wished-for phantom
on her tongue, drove her to approach him.

"Your father lets you out alone?"

Wil turned toward Marie, arching an eyebrow
and at last smiling.

"Didn't know I'd run into you, or I would
have taken my cane with me."

"To drive me away."

He moved close to her, his body reeking of
testosterone and heat. Her cold body reacted instantly, as if a
flame had been set to her clothes. The stinging nerves sharpened
her senses.

"You must use canes once in a while," he
whispered.

"On you it would be a pleasure."

"No role reversal yet, my dear." He turned
his back on her.

"You're not dismissed."

"Shit, woman, you've really got the patter
down." He looked over his right shoulder at her. "Now you need a
lesson in humility."

Wil returned to loading the car.

"I have no reason to humble myself, Wil."

"If you want me, you do." He threw the last
of the bags into the car, slammed the trunk closed, and smiled at
her. "Think about it. Dream on it. Or do you already? Are you
trying to come to terms with your lust? Do so soon, because I'm
thinking about heading back to the city."

"When?" She didn't mean to seem eager, but
she also didn't plan on letting him slip away.

"Haven't decided. But I don't have any reason
to hang around. Dad doesn't want me here, you've bulldozed your
granddaughter into staying away from me, and verbal sparring is
simply foreplay. I want the real thing."

"Give me a ride home?" she asked.

Wil looked around.

"How did you get here?"

"Doesn't matter."

He laughed and gleefully spoke.

"I've got eggs and milk in the car, can't
afford to dawdle today. Besides, you're not contrite yet."

"Contrite!" she screamed.

"Beg for it, baby. You know how. The same way
you make your clients grovel."

"I already know you 'grovel' from the marks
that I first saw on your chest."

"Yeah, but I've got something you want real
bad." He slowly drew his hand up his thigh.

He's right,
she thought.

He drew his wounded thumb across her lips and
her tongue automatically flicked out to taste it. He pushed his
thumb between her lips and allowed her to suck. She knew he would
be startled by the coolness of her mouth and attempt to pull away,
but she caught his hand and held it until his own warmth heated her
mouth.

The sucking motion caused the cut to reopen
and the sweet metallic taste of blood raked across her bloated
taste buds, seeping slowly down her throat. The eternal chill
inside her body softened but did not disappear.

"I've got something that tastes even better,"
he said.

Better, she thought.
The only thing better
would be to be saturated in his body's blood.

Wil slowly withdrew his thumb and looked down
at it. Blood dribbled up out of the cut.

"Kinky."

Marie lowered her mouth onto the cut and let
her tongue sweep away the bubble of blood. The odor of his rich
burgundy blood drove her forward into his arms. Her breathing came
in gasps, and the thrill hazed out her sight.

"Maybe if you're a good girl," he
whispered.

Her hand reached into his crotch, evidently
awakening Wil's awareness, since he immediately pulled away from
her.

"Slow down, baby. Remember we're in a parking
lot in a respectable small town. Not everyone will understand our
lack of inhibitions."

"Come over to my place tonight," she said,
feeling blood dry tightly across her top lip.

"When I do decide to come, so to speak, you'd
better be willing, because you only get one more chance." He got
into the driver's seat of his father's car.

"Tonight?" she asked.

"Naw. Dad and I watch sports games
tonight."

His brown eyes sizzled with the glow of
satisfaction. He shoved the car into gear and didn't bother to say
goodbye.

Marie stood watching the car leave the
parking lot. Her hunger needed to be sated. She looked around. Too
public, she thought.

She walked to her car and vowed that she
would return home and not feed. Not allow Will to win.

Chapter 28

Upon arriving home, Marie caught sight of
Garrett's car parked in her driveway. The chauffeur had his hat
pulled low over his eyes, and his head rested comfortably against
the leather headrest.

I told him to stay away. I warned him.

She shut off the motor and got out of her
car. As she passed the Lincoln, she checked the back seat.
Empty.

Damn him!

A powerful wave of hunger drew her to the
house. Once inside, she sensed a strong scent of blood tinged by
the sourness of sweat. The odor came from farther back in the
house. The sour sweet smell led her to the dungeon door. But she
kept the door locked, as it was now. How could Garrett gain
entrance? Only Sade--

Marie struck out wildly with her right
forearm and the wooden door splintered. On the second blow the door
caved in completely.

"Sade!" she shrieked.

The odor of blood and sweat exhilarated her.
She lunged down the stairs.

"Sade, how dare you!"

A relaxed Sade stood shirtless before her.
His left hand grasped the handle of the bullwhip. Just beyond him,
stretched tautly across the Eton Bench, was Garrett. Naked. The
skin on his buttocks split with raw gashes, sweat forming a sheen
over his entire body.

"Ma
Marie, don't get so upset. You
weren't here, and I thought I could fill in for you.
Votre
client
was in need of service. As a favor..."

"You beat him with the bullwhip."

Sade looked down at the glistening braided
leather of the whip.

"Should I have started with something
plus
doux?"
Sade walked to the wall of the dungeon and selected
another whip. "A signal whip, perhaps?"

"Don't ever touch my slaves." She put out her
right hand palm upward. "The key."

Sade stooped a bit to look up the
staircase.

"Mais
you don't have a door to
lock."

"Never. Never will you be permitted to use
the dungeon again. Is that understood?" Her body trembled from
anger and hunger, a hunger that kept growing stronger the longer
she remained with the bleeding Garrett.

"Marie, we have been too long together to
argue over a mere..." Sade looked over at Garrett. "Meal."

"Too long we've tolerated each other."

"Ah! But you got what you wanted, Marie. You
are immortal. A blood-sucking immortal who stands gasping from the
smell of her next meal."

"Out!" she screamed.

Sade walked over to Garrett and ran his right
index finger across a wound. His finger came back drenched in a
bright red. He used his tongue to lap at his finger several times
until the red had disappeared. He frowned.

"You deserve something richer,
ma
Marie. This man has been bled too often. A favorite, perhaps." Sade
smiled. "One that needs to be given a rest, or his life should be
ended this day." With full force Sade used the signal whip to break
open another wound.

Marie shrieked as she ran at Sade. Her
fingers tightened around his throat. Sade flung the whip aside and
grabbed her hands, pulling them slowly from his neck, and with each
movement Marie could hear the bones in her hands crack and
break.

"You will never be as strong as I,
garce.
I would be pleased to rip your body apart for all the
trials you have put me and my Reneé through. But there is one who
would miss you." Her hands seemed to shrivel in his grasp.
"Liliana. She would blame me even if she was not sure that I had
rid my life of you. Liliana begs me to protect dear
grand-mère.
You tyrannical
vieille bique."

Sade forced Marie onto her knees. The cement
floor was cold and hard, but that didn't matter, for the
excruciating pain in her hands had taken her to a level of pain
that brought numbness, and she felt that he could not take her
beyond that pain. Suddenly Sade released her hands and back-handed
her across her right cheek. The sound of smashing bone loudly
sounded inside her head. The pain echoed throughout her skull as
she fell sideways onto the floor.

"This is not the late eighteenth century.
There are no authorities to back your pronouncements. Now you exist
at my whim, not the other way around. Do not speak rudely to me. Do
not forbid me anything. Do not attempt to set limits on my
behavior.
Plus jamais ça!"

Sade lifted the signal whip from the floor
and lashed Garrett three more times before flinging it across the
room. Sade stared down at Marie and tsked.

"You look
malade, ma pute."
The last
word he spat at Marie. She closed her eyes as the wetness of his
saliva hit her face.
"Voici
your medicine," Sade said,
indicating Garrett.
"Voici
your medicine."

Sade fetched the white silk poet's shirt that
he had neatly folded and placed on the unused rack. He walked past
Garrett and Marie as if they didn't exist in his world. Marie knew
that he perceived them as too lowly to exist on his plane.

With a straight back and an easygoing gait he
climbed the steps.

"Bastard!" Marie's throat burned, but he
never turned back.