bloody rose

Ok so here’s the next chapter folks a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you made my day and thanks but no, lol, I don’t want your soul for another chapter… just keep reviewing and reading… graci

~*Tanya and Lysander*~
Lysander could hear the blood rushing through his ears. His heart was pounding, his breath came in gasps, and adrenaline flowed abundantly in his blood. He could hear his mistress, Tanya, calling his name. A broken chain hung from the collar around his neck. He had managed to snap the links when she had turned around, and now she was hunting her loose pet down. Lysander was naked to the waist, his only covering being a leather codpiece. He was hiding behind a statue of Anubis in the main hall. Fortunately there was no other vampires around. He felt exposed and vulnerable like this, though he knew none of them would ever lay hand or fang on him. They were too afraid of Tanya; she was very protective and had made her claim on him obvious. Between the bite marks covering his arms and the crest carefully etched into his back, there could be no doubt he belonged to her, mind and body. Not that he hadn\'t asked for it. Four years ago he had come down to one of the covens and asked to be turned. The covens had been baffled by his request. No mortal slave had ever requested to be turned. But Tanya, his beautiful Tanya, had offered to take him in and watch over him, to see if he was sincere in his wish to be a vampire. The first few days had been tense and quiet, she was fascinated by him, a mortal who wanted to be immortal, and he was overwhelmed by the events that had occurred. One night, he had come across what looked like a torture chamber in her suites. It was her bedroom. Chains hung everywhere and there were whips were mounted on the walls. Lysander had stood there in shock until she had come in to go to bed. The following moments had been awkward. He was there, in her most private inner sanctum, and her secrets had been revealed. She had told him that he should not fear her, she never would use them on him, he was safe; she rambled on and on. Then, quietly, he said he would like her to. The look on her face had carved itself into his memory. Her normally stoic and cool facial features contorted into an unusual, grotesque image of shock. She gaped, not knowing how to take that last bit of information. She was a sadist, that she knew, and this mortal, this fragile little human, this boy had just offered to subject himself to her attentions. That was four long years ago. She had accepted in the end, and he had enjoyed every minute of their time together. Over the years, things had gotten rougher, more brutal each time they walked into the bedroom. But she was a vampire who lived for the feel of a thrashing victim in her arms; she liked her blood with a generous infusion of adrenaline. And this he knew, rather well actually. On occasions like this, when she chose only a thin chain instead of the thick manacles attached to the bed or when she hanged him from the ceiling by heavy iron chains, he usually broke free and gave her a chance to chase him. It was something you learned quickly about vampires; they liked hunting their prey down. The chase was more thrilling than anything else to them was. But, unfortunately for Lysander, she could smell him and always found him. Not that he really minded, he was indeed a masochist through and through. Though sometimes the biting became too intense for him. She fed from him when she needed to and, at first, it had terrified him. It still made him apprehensive, but he was more comfortable with it now. And, yet, in those four years, she hadn\'t turned him. Lysander, still as mortal as the day he arrived, crouched further behind the statue as she drew nearer.

Tanya passed by her little pet, though she sensed him well enough. Let him run, she thought, he’ll eventually just go back to the rooms. She wandered along down the hall, pretending to search for her missing slave.
~*several days later*~
Lysander entered the bedroom he and Tanya shared, looking around for her. Still not seeing her, he ventured further into the room. He took stock of the changes she had made since the last time he had been in there. She had attached two sets of manacles to the bedposts; one set at the top for his arms and one at the bottom for his legs. He turned on the spot and looked across the room to where several groups of chains hung down from the ceiling. Lysander reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt as he wandered over, trying to figure out what would be in store for him that night. Once his shirt was unbuttoned, he draped it over a chair and looked at the tables that she normally laid selections of her collections of toys and other various articles on. All that was there right then was a bullwhip and a knife. Not much, but she was creative. He quietly walked around the room, looking for any more hints as to what she had planned. When he found nothing he walked over to the bed again and sat down. It was almost nine o\' clock. He knew she would be there soon. Looking over to the bullwhip on the table, he shivered in anticipation. \"Lyyysaaander,\" Tanya sing-songed from the front room. A moment later she walked into the bedroom.

Tanya was met with the sight of Lysander siting alone and forlorn looking on their bed. She could feel pangs of arousal coursing through her body now. His back bore the scars of their previous encounters, and the memory of them caused her inner walls to clench. As she approached she took a moment to study him. He was anxious, and he reeked of arousal and fear. But he sat there nonetheless, looking over his shoulder at her with those deep blue eyes. His eyes swept her body and she felt the dampness grow between her legs. \"Lysander,\" she called again. He straightened his back at the sound of his name and he partially rose. She was at the end of the bed now and she glanced over at the table. He caught the direction of her gaze and then looked to her again. There she stood, his mistress, his love, naked. She smiled seductively and he blushed. She wanted to moan; damn, was he hot when he blushed! She pushed the urge away, motioning for him to follow her to the other side of the room. He swallowed hard, his slight form trembling, but she could tell he was as aroused as she was. She led him away from the table and furniture to a single post with ropes attached to the top. Lysander \'s eyes widened as she motioned for him to come to her. Her hands splayed themselves across his chest as he came into her arms reach. He groaned and she smiled again. Her hands moved down his chest, and paused on the buckle of his leather belt. Lysander let her pull him closer. She slowly unbuckled his belt while staring him straight in the eye. Lysander stepped out of his pants and moved over to the post. Tanya walked over to the table and retrieved the whip. Lysander’s brow creased as he realized she wasn\'t going to tie him up. She wanted him to just stand there and be whipped. Well, it certainly was new, but not unwelcome. An hour later he wasn\'t so sure about that anymore. He had stood there as she whipped him and every blow came harder than the last. Miraculously she had drawn no blood, which he was grateful for. Coming into work with bandages wrapped around you tended to raise questions, even among slaves. She had recoiled the whip and now was dragging him back to the bed. Lysander looked at the bed and hoped lying on his back wouldn\'t hurt too much. She pushed him roughly to the bed. He toppled and she pounced before he could reorient himself. Lysander struggled against her as she bound his hands in the manacles. Then slowly she slid down his body, turned and reached for the manacles at the foot of the bed. Lysander had stopped fighting by then and let her close them around his ankles. She climbed back up his body and situated herself over his cock. With a feral grin she lowered herself, causing him to buck. His cock slid deep within her, she moaned as she took it in to the hilt. Lysander groaned at the sensation surrounding him. Her flesh was warm from the blood she had just taken from him. His hands strained against the iron manacles, how he longed to touch her perfect, pale skin. She lifted herself up and lowered herself down again. He bucked his hips, wanting her to stop teasing him. \"No, my pet, not yet.\" at her words he groaned; it seemed as if she had read his mind. \"Please, Tanya,\" he begged. The knife cut suddenly into his stomach; he hadn\'t seen her bring it over with them. He jerked beneath her, wincing. He realized is mistake; he called her by name, not \"Mistress\", as she had told him to call her. With an exasperated sigh, she raised herself off him and crawled down the bed inspecting the cut she had made. She leaned down and gently lapped the blood from his wound. Lysander gasped as her hand snaked up and wrapped itself around his straining member. She squeezed the base firmly before moving her hand up and backs down again. Lysander moaned loudly and she smiled up at him. Her saliva had closed the cut by now and she sat up, moving off the bed. Lysander twisted his arms and turned as best he could to see what she was doing. But she was already gone, and he would have to remain there until she returned to free him. Lysander flopped back on the bed, alone and unrelieved.

I shall see thee anon, fearless readers
This is my first lemonish thing so please be kind and constructive criticism would be appreiciated

Yours, kateri