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Another teaser?
Maybe she'd done something wrong in a past life, and yet she was so old a past life would have only been a few years. She didn't deserve this.
Jackson seemed to think otherwise however.
It had all happened years ago. Years of being treated like a slave, a prisoner. He'd sone horrible things to her, and she couldn't understand why. She had never harmed him, at least not enough for this. The most she did was hurt his pride.
Seven years ago on a thursday night, she went out with a couple friends for drinks. Of course afterward she'd need to feed.
He saw right through her facade as a human. He was wat she was: a leech. He was different though. He was sinister and curel, sarcastic and threatening, and when he asked to buy her a 'drink', intending to give her a literal Bloody Mary, she declined.
Later when she left to feed he followed her. That was the last time she saw her friends, the last time that she saw sunlight and tasted any blood but her own. Of course, there was the occasion of him giving his blood to her, but those were few and far between. But he kept her healthy. He didn't want to kill her, he'd said so when she asked him why he hadn't. He said he wanted her to be his forever.
He never brought in others for the same thing he used her for. Some he'd torture, others he'd use for food, fot her pain and his pleasure. never once did he let her have fresh kill.
Today was one of the good days.
He had decided to feed her, which meant that afterwards as repayment ... he would do it all the time anyway, but apparently being fed on and feeding made him horny.
All she was was his personal sex toy.
The lights from the hallway were bright. He'd left the lights off for a long time, so as he walked in and clicked the switch to turn them on, her naked body jerked in surprise.
"Rise and shine my love, time for breakdast." he announced, humming happily.
Dull faced and dirty her too-thin body now found itself needing him. She didn't want him, or the pain that came with him, but her body longed for him. She was broken and bruised, but she perked at that workd. "Breakfast?" she asked, the forgotten tongue of a British woman.
"Shutup." he snapped. "But yes, breakfast; we can't have you dying, now can we?" he mused.
For all she cared they could.
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