Rules And Rewards Page 2

  He finally left the small kitchen without feeding. He had fed before going out to the club the previous night, he could go without blood for a day if he had to. Hands in his jeans’ pockets, he looked around the living room. The stereo and piles of CDs waited next to the sofa, while the black screen of the television faced it. Neither was all that appealing, not when he could still detect Grace’s lovely scent if he breathed in deeply. He followed his nose to the bedroom, where her aroma was even headier; arousal and pleasure, those were his favorite scents on her.

  As enticing as it was, the bed would have been too much when he wasn’t allowed to touch himself. He paused a few feet from it before going to sit at the desk. He shifted a little before finding the best position; the pain from the previous night hadn’t completely faded yet, and Ray was clinging to each precious sensation. He opened his drawing pad and flipped through a few months’ worth of drawings. Most of them were of Grace, most of them memories he cherished. He finally reached a blank page and, picking up a pencil, started sketching with light, easy strokes.

  The shape of the headboard appeared first without Ray ever needing to look at the bed for reference. He then added Grace in front of it, her back to the wooden board, broadly defining her body for now, knowing he would come back to complete it as soon as the first sketch was finished. His own shape, in her arms, pulled a frown to his brow. Somehow, it never seemed quite right. He didn’t stay on it very long, though, and after adding the few creased lines of the bed sheets around them, he returned to Grace’s face. Eyelashes appeared beneath his careful touch, the soft curve of her lips, eyes that burned with pride and concern.

  His need for pain came and went without rhyme of reason, and it had been particularly intense in the past week. For the first time, he had ended up asking Mistress Red for help rather than forcing her hand by committing missteps on purpose. She had given him exactly what he craved before taking him home and just holding him for hours. He hadn’t thanked her for it, not properly at least, and now he regretted that he wouldn’t be able to do it for a few days.

  Focused on his work, he didn’t notice time passing, didn’t pay any mind to the protests of his body, aching from remaining in the same position for far too long. Even the familiar prickling at the base of his skull warning him of the impending sunrise didn’t give him pause. He wanted to put this memory onto paper now, before any of the details faded, and he didn’t care how long it took. All that mattered was that it had to be perfect.

  When he finally put the pencil down to rub at his tired eyes, he was smiling. In front of him, the moment was captured onto paper, crisp lines and softer shadows. He ran a light finger along the curve of Grace’s face and, for the first time since she had left, wondered what she was doing, and whether she was thinking of him as she had promised she would.

  Exhausted, he fumbled out of his clothes and crawled into bed. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, and it wasn’t long after that before his dreams took him back to the previous night.

  * * * *

  A few hours passed before Ray was pulled out of sleep again by an insistent knock on the door. A little groggy, he stood and threw on sweatpants, taken by a strong feeling of deja vu. Could it be Grace behind the door, he wondered as he went to open it, and even if he knew it was unlikely, he couldn’t help being disappointed when he found a deliveryman in front of his door.

  “I’ve got a package here for Ray Evelt,” he said with a slightly raised eyebrow at Ray’s state of dress.

  Ray almost replied aloud before remembering he wasn’t allowed to. He settled on nodding, hoping it would be sufficient. When the man handed him an electronic notepad and stylus, Ray took them gingerly, careful not to touch his hand by accident.

  “Sign here, please.”

  After holding a pencil for hours, the slim plastic stick felt oddly awkward between his fingers, and his signature on the small screen was illegible. It didn’t seem to bother the deliveryman, who handed him the box before leaving with a bored, “Have a good day.”

  The square box was a little bigger than two feet high, and it was surprisingly heavy. Ray hesitated when he noticed Grace’s name on the return address, and wondered whether he had permission to open it. Just then, he saw the small annotation by his name, scrawled in her handwriting.

  “Yes,” he read aloud, “you can open this.”

  Chuckling, he took the package to the kitchen and sliced the tape holding the top closed with a knife. A red plastic container appeared, with a piece of paper resting on top. When Ray grabbed the note, he noticed the container was chilled.

  “Your fridge looked a bit empty,” the note said. “I thought you might have a need for this.”

  His hands shaking a little in his haste, he opened the lid of the insulated box. He counted three containers of animal blood and as many expired transfusion bags, all kept cold by ice. He smiled and shook his head. To think he had thought that he couldn’t love Grace any more than he already did!

  He pulled out a bag and warmed it while he stashed the rest in his fridge. After fasting for an entire day, the fact that she had given him the blood made its taste even better, and he savored every mouthful of it. He wished he could have thanked her, but she had warned him against speaking even to her. He thought about it for a while. She hadn’t said anything against text messages, so he could try that. On the other hand, it was the middle of the day, she had to be having fun with her child, and he didn’t want to bother her.

  In the end, he gave in. She had no way of knowing it, but her rule about not talking to her had hit too close to home, reminding him of his Sire’s demand that Ray not call him. He would keep it short, he decided, his fingers fumbling a little on his cell phone keys. Just to show his gratefulness, nothing more, and especially not to intrude.

  He sent only two words, thank you, hoping she wouldn’t see it as breaking the rules. Mere minutes passed before his phone rang with her reply of only one word: welcome. He smiled, feeling calmer now that he knew he could contact her if he needed to.

  * * * *

  When knocking on his door woke Ray the next day, he hurried to open it, already excited. Could Grace have sent him another gift? He had been following her rules exactly, and while he was beginning to have cabin fever, he kept telling himself that it would be worth it to make her proud. He hadn’t expected her to reward him as he went along, though.

  The same deliveryman as the previous day took his signature and handed him, this time, a package that was barely any bigger than his hand. Again, a small inscription on the top gave him permission to open it. Ray tore the tape off with eager hands, and almost dropped the small digital camera he found inside. He turned it between his fingers, puzzled. Blue and silver, it looked brand new. Surely Grace could have made good use of it on her trip, so why would she have left it with him?

  He understood when he turned the camera on and saw that there were pictures in the memory. His mouth dry already at the idea of what he would see, he went to lie down on the bed and only then summoned the first picture with a touch of his thumb. He chuckled, amused, when the screen lit up. Of course she wouldn’t send him naughty pictures of herself. She was much too reasonable for that. As a reminder of her, however, her foot in a high-heeled gleaming leather shoe worked quite well. He was almost sure they were the same shoes she had been wearing the very first time he had seen her at the club. The memory stirred in him, and he smiled.

  Another press of his thumb revealed a second picture. The three brown dots, arranged in a triangle, were familiar enough that their sight sent a jolt through his spine and straight to his balls. The freckles sat at the very top of her right thigh, just inches from the trimmed curls that hid her sex. He had kissed or licked these same freckles many times, and even though he would never dare say it aloud, he called them his spot in the privacy of his own mind.

  He swallowed hard before moving on to the next picture. The barest hint of black lace on the side of the frame an
d a lovely curve in the center could have been abstract to anyone else looking at this image, but Ray hummed softly at the sight. When his Mistress wore this lacy corset, he always knew she had big plans for the night. Just the sight of it was enough to make him hard—and even now, even if all he could see was a scrap of fine lace, all he could guess was the swell of her breast, his cock was responding as though she had been standing in front of him. He started reaching down, but stopped mid movement and grunted quietly. He couldn’t touch himself. She had expressly forbidden it.

  He took a few seconds to cool down before he went ahead and called the next picture. This time, he groaned aloud. He could practically taste her skin as he followed the curve of her neck with his eyes. He had never bitten her, nor did he think he ever would, but she didn’t mind him licking and sucking on her neck as long as he left no mark. It meant a lot to him that she trusted him enough to allow him access to her neck. He doubted many Special Enforcers were as trusting. Then again, not all Special Enforcers were in BDSM relationships with vampires.

  He licked his lips, wishing she were there so that he could truly taste the saltiness of her skin, or even touch her. Unconsciously, he arched his hips off the bed, seeking friction he wasn’t allowed to find. When would she be back?

  There was one more picture on the camera. He brought it up while biting down on his bottom lip. A bright red mouth came to life on the screen, the lips slightly parted, a smile just beginning to form. Ray’s cock twitched almost painfully. Without thinking, he traced the lips with a finger. He would have given the world to be able to kiss her at that moment, or even just to see her smile at him.

  As though answering his thoughts, his phone rang at that moment. He jumped out of bed, leaving the camera behind, and went to retrieve the phone in the kitchen. The text message was brief.

  What are you doing?

  Almost feverish, he answered right back.

  thinking of my Mistress

  He waited after he sent the message, wondering if she would reply, and beamed when, after only seconds, she did.

  You got the pictures then?

  yes Mistress

  Are you being good?

  He hesitated at that. He had been good and followed the rules, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult. He wanted her to know that.

  doing my best, he finally answered.

  I knew you would. Have to go. XO

  Ray continued to do his best and ignored his cock for the rest of the day, but even a cold shower did little to calm his raging thoughts. Every time he blinked, one of the pictures would surge into his mind, so innocent and yet a promise of so much more. His dreams, when he finally went to bed in the early morning, did not help in the slightest, far from it.

  * * * *

  When the deliveryman knocked on the third day, Ray was ready, waiting by the door and impatient to see what new way Grace could have found to torture him this time. By now, the man had given up trying to be polite, and the exchange of signature against mail was made without a word.

  After assuring himself that the invitation to open the padded letter-sized envelope was indeed scribbled in the front, he tore the package open and reached inside. His fingers played over the satin fabric before he pulled out a black nightgown with narrow red ruffles around the décolleté and hem. Holding it at arms’ length by the spaghetti straps, Ray tried to imagine Grace wearing this pretty number. It didn’t seem like it would hide much of her; the top would leave most of her breasts exposed, while the bottom would barely cover her ass. Was she going to wear this for him, he wondered? Was this a promise of things to come? There was no note in the envelope to enlighten him. He took an experimental sniff at the garment to find out if she had worn it before. A whiff was enough. His cock hardened at once, and he closed his eyes shut to try and get a grip on himself. Judging by the familiar musky scent that clung to it, she had done more than wear the nightgown. She had been a very naughty Grace while wearing it.

  He knew what she looked like when she touched herself. One of his drawings showed her lying on his bed, legs spread and slightly bent, a hand on her breast and the other between her thighs, but the memory was seared into his mind, branded there by the frustration at having been forbidden doing more than watch and the lust that had consumed him for days on end after that. He could feel the same frustration now, the same need, made worse by her absence and his inability to touch himself.

  Abandoning the nightgown on the sofa, he retreated to the bedroom, immediately realizing it was a bad idea as the thought of what he had last done with her on this bed assailed him. She would never know, he reasoned with himself. He could jerk off, and never have to say a word about it.

  But it would be betraying her trust, he objected to that treacherous little voice. He didn’t doubt she would ask if he had obeyed her when she returned, and he wouldn’t be able to lie to her. He didn’t want to lie to her.

  The alternative was touching himself now, and admitting to it later. He would forfeit the reward she had promised and earn himself a punishment, but punishments could be fun, too…

  Grunting in frustration, he picked up his phone and sent Grace a message, pushing on the small keys furiously and having to correct his spelling several times.

  how sorry would I be if I broke the rules?

  He sat down on the sofa, cell phone in one hand and the other one clenched in a fist on his thigh to wait for her reply. Almost half an hour passed before he finally received an answer, and the minutes seemed to become hours as his need only heightened.

  I would be more sorry than you, I think.

  He frowned at her answer. What was that supposed to mean? Why would she be sorry if he didn’t earn his reward?

  Taking deep breaths in, he got himself under control before writing her again.

  you’re making it hard

  The answer, this time, came much faster, and left Ray rolling his eyes at the phone, yet grinning.

  Don’t I always?

  * * * *

  The fourth day of Grace’s absence brought yet another package, this one oddly shaped as it was less than two inches thick but two feet wide by almost three feet high. Ray started reaching for the top flap but froze as he noticed the inscription on the front, bigger than the notes had been so far.

  Do NOT open yet.

  He glared at the few words. In his head, he could hear them in Mistress Red’s clipped tone. Was this yet another way to torment him? Wasn’t he getting crazy enough, walking around the apartment and being in turn bored out of his mind and aching with want?

  He left the package by the door and stepped into the kitchen to warm up some blood. As the microwave hummed, he turned back to look at the innocent box. What could possibly be inside?

  The same question obsessed him for the next few hours, and he ended up having to stash the package beneath his bed so he wouldn’t see it anymore and be tempted to open it. Even so, he knew it was there, and couldn’t help wondering what she had sent him this time, and why he wasn’t allowed to open the box yet. Was it a test, maybe? Would she check, when she returned, to see whether he had opened it or not? Was his reward inside, and the way to earn it was to leave it alone?

  The questions tumbled in his mind, as maddening as his frustration from the previous days. He considered sending Grace a message, but couldn’t figure out what to say that wouldn’t be whiny or obnoxious.

  Night finally fell, and it was past seven o’clock when his phone rang. He expected another message, but this time, it was Grace’s voice that greeted him when he picked up the call.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked, foregoing greetings.

  He knew that tone. That was Mistress Red’s “no nonsense, I will get my way, and you’d better hang on for the ride” voice. Playing around now would have been a mistake.

  “Blue jeans and a t-shirt.”

  “That sounds like too much. Take off the t-shirt.”

  He hurriedly did so, afraid he’d miss her next wo
rds if he delayed.

  “Done?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  He considered dropping the t-shirt to the floor but remembered how much she disliked messes. It was one of the first things he had learned about her. Still listening to her, he went to drop the t-shirt in the hamper.

  “Good. If I were there right now, I think I’d pinch your right nipple and make it harden.”

  A shiver ran down Ray’s body and straight to his groin. “Mistress,” he offered, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, “if you want I could do so for you.”

  She chuckled. “Clever boy. Go ahead, then. Trail your fingers on that beautiful chest of yours and pinch that innocent nipple.”

  “Yes…” The word ended on a hiss. After the restrictions of the past days, even such a small touch felt heavenly.

  “Mmm, that sounds nice. I wish I could see. But you can show me. Take a picture for me, Ray.”

  It took him a second to remember where he had left the camera; he had abandoned it on the nightstand after looking at the pictures again the previous night. He went to pick it up and, awkwardly holding the phone in his left hand and the camera in his right, turned it toward him a few inches from his chest. The camera made a quiet beeping noise when he took the picture. He looked at the screen and shrugged at the result. Good enough, he supposed.

  “What did you do with the nightie?” she asked suddenly.

  A sudden thought crossed Ray’s mind, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh hysterically. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him to put it on.

  “Under my pillow,” he replied when he had his voice under control.

  “How sweet. Pick it up for me.”

  He sat down on the bed and, dropping the camera at his side, reached for the satin nightgown.

  “Mistress Red?” he asked, making his voice as meek as he knew how.