His meal, Her shame

Keeping pure

London, England

She felt herself quiver, the immense pain and crushing pleasure as his fangs plunged into her soft needy flesh.  Elam didn’t bother to supress her moans as he drank from her, head tilting back as her golden her fell loose from its pins.  She had been his meal for too long to feel shameful about the mounting pressure she felt building in her core. She continued to allow herself to be lost in the feeling until he had had his fill.  Despite the undeniable wetness pooled between her legs, he never gave her the satisfaction of falling over the edge.  Leaving her in a frustrated mess as he licked the wound healing and sealing it. 

He pulled away from her and waiting for her to collect herself.  Studying her, always studying her. 

“What is it this time, Ferox?” Elam asked, feeling her frustrations move from s****l to weary. 

He gazed at her narrowing his ice-blue eyes, “have you been m**********g?”

Elam rolled her grey eyes, so it was a lack of pureness in her blood that was bothering him.  “No, Fer, you know that I refrain from that to keep my blood clean.” She sighed looking him in the eyes and knowing that answer would not satisfy him. “I had a wet dream,” she admitted still looking directly in his cold eyes. 

She was unhappy at him for having to explain herself.  He knew that in the years they had kept this arrangement that she had lived a strict and spartan life to keep her blood the way he liked it.  No alcohol, no smoking, no drugs – even pain killers, a strict diet without too much fat, salt or sugar and a strict exercise regime.  Most importantly Elam had kept her chastity, no more than that, she had not ever kissed a man or even touched herself in the 10 years of being Ferox’s meal.  27 years old and the only lips on her skin had been his while he fed from her.       

Ferox frowned at her, “a wet dream? Why would you suddenly have one of those?” he asked, seeming thoroughly disgusted.  Elam straightened herself up, reaching for the sweet box she kept in her bag especially for after a feeding.  His question was annoying to her, not only because of his disgust at her being s****l in anyway but because she also didn’t know why after years of successfully supressing her urges, she’d had such a vivid erotic dream.  She popped the sweet into her mouth allowing one of the few sweet luxuries in her life to calm her before replying to him.    

“I don’t know Fer,” she admitted glumly. “perhaps it’s my age, perhaps my body is pushing me to procreate – I may be able to control what I do to my body, but I cannot control what it does to me.”   

Ferox seemed thoughtful regarding her response, as if pondering if that was something a human body would do.  While he did this Elam started getting her things ready to leave. Then he asked, “who was it in your dream?”  This caused her to pause, a past naïve Elam would have felt a glimmer of hope of Ferox possibly being jealous, however she had known him too long for any kind of delusion regarding him having any sort of feelings towards her.  No, he probably wanted to make sure there was no one to taint his food.  “he didn’t have a face, as I said it’s probably just hormonal. Even nuns have desires,” she said, thinking bitterly ‘and probably more of a life than me’.  But Elam shook herself from the thought, she had chosen this.  She was the one who restricted herself so she could somehow be close to him.  Ferox didn’t force her to have this pathetic life, it was her choice. 

Ferox looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.  He raked his hands through his raven black hair and fixing her with his ice-blue eyes said, “When are you next available?” Elam’s face held its usual stoic indifference as she pulled her diary from her bag, flitting though the pages.  Ferox smirked at her, “how many times have I told you to use the phone I bought you as your diary? And where’s the smart watch I bought you?”  He looked at her with amusement, while she gave him an eyebrow of disinterest.  She knew that he found her old fashioned ways amusing versus his need for the latest gadget.  He often commented that people would think she was the centuries old vampire and he the young human given her eccentricities – it amazed Elam that he actually thought himself funny. 

 “Why would I want to wear something that allows people to constantly contact me, even when using the bathroom?” She gave him a no-nonsense look, “Fer, sometimes it is nice to be unreachable. Not everyone enjoys being constantly monitored.”  The last part was a jab at when he had once suggested feeding on her in front of some of his vampire friends – she had been livid at the lecherous looks his friends had given her and he understood from that day that she was no blood w***e. 

Finding an opening in her diary she said, “I can do the 25th, but that’s the last one I’ll be able to do before I go away.” Ferox sighed in a resigned way, “fine.  Though I don’t understand why you need to accompany your aunt on this walking trip. Or why it takes 6 months.” Elam gave him a rare smile, mainly because she knew how annoying he’d find it to feed on other humans, but also because she was quite looking forward to her trip.  “It’s a tradition in my family Fer, one that I’d normally to with my mother if she hadn’t passed when I was born. You know that I haven’t seen Floral in ages and it would be nice if you at least pretended to be happy for me – you know how hard it is to be separated from my family.”

Ferox looked away, his red lips pouting as he sulked – the damn pureblood made her want to strangle him sometimes, he was just so selfish.  “You chose to follow me El, I never forced you. It’s not like I ever desired to have a human friend. I told you when we met that I prefer to mix with my own kind.” Elam looked at him in a bored way, “I never said I was forced.  I know what choices I have and what choices I make.  I am well aware that I’m the one that wanted this friendship, I’m only saying that even I need a break.  Living my life to cater to your strict feeding preferences takes a toll on my mental health - my choice or not, which will in turn effect my blood and… I’m only human.” She said the last part with a smirk, then reaching out to touch the side of his face she coaxed. “Don’t worry, your favourite little blood bag will not do anything to permanently taint it’s contents.  It’s a spiritual hike through the wilderness to where my ancestors first lived for pity sake, not a crazy trip to Las Vegas.”

He still looked somewhat sulky, but at the same time appeased ice-blue eyes appearing to thaw a bit.  “Fine.” he said then changed the subject, “so what are we doing tonight?  Movie? Show at the theatre?”