The Bites of Lust

CHAPTER 6


One day went by.

Faith, still tied to her cross, almost could not feel her limbs any longer. She was feeble and resigned, but she was not scared. She would not offer them such a pleasure. She no longer thought Buffy would come and free her. Buffy was not thinking about her, she was probably doing her best to forget her, forget that night they spent together, that stain in her small life of normal girl. Faith smiled bitterly. A normal girl. Who slayed vampires every night and fucked one in secret. Actually, not exactly. Nobody was worrying about what could happen to her. She was all alone, as she had always been, in front of her despair, of her death. Now, all that she wanted was to die quickly without too much suffering. Unfortunately, she had already understood it was not in the plans of Drusilla, whose perceptible madness was visibly only equaled by her concealed cruelty.


"Good night, Faith."


Drusilla moved closer, with a rustle of her black dress from other times, so feline and so hazy that she seemed to glide on the floor.

She put her hand on the wound made the previous day, which had already almost disappeared.


"You heal fast... Almost as fast as we do..."


Then, with a movement so quick that Faith did not have the time to see, Drusilla slashed again the skin, drawing five long and deep cuts that immediately started bleeding. The vampire quivered but refrained, diverting her attention to the wrists. Never leaving the prisoner's look, Drusilla ran her tongue down the arm, lingered in the hollow, to finally stop near the wrist, where an exposed vein allowed the soft beat of the living heart to be heard.

Faith was waiting patiently, as if nothing more could surprise or touch her, as if again she was not really here, as if it was not her blood that was running now from her sliced vein, greedily swallowed by a monstrous hyena, transfigured by the purity of this quasi-Christlike liquid, by its supernatural and unique power, as if she was not feeling the pain turning into an almost orgasmic pleasure, giving her the desire to surrender to the exquisite suction of this vile and insatiable mouth. That mouth which was pressing its way towards the five sanguine, indolent paths of her belly, lapping without respite the essence of her life; that mouth she was feeling now even lower after having torn the leather of her trousers, those hands sharp as razors, which were gashing her back in order to better attract her to the delicious bites of this sensual and leech mouth devouring her sex, bit the most sensitive part to draw the intoxicating liquid, until she finally lost consciousness, overwhelmed with pleasure and pain, and took refuge into oblivion.

Reluctantly, Drusilla tore herself away from the bruised source of her vampiric rapture and collapsed on her back. No mortal blood had ever brought her such sensations. She could feel the Slayer's supernatural strength running through her body and increasing her own power, her demonic capacities, and peaking in an indescribable pleasure that made her be shaking all over. She had thought she could not manage to refrain from draining her completely, but the prospect of renewing her feast one more night had finally convinced her. The wounds were bleeding on, she had to get up and dress them, she had to shake out of this lethargic and comfortable torpor in which her meal had left her, if she wanted to keep this extraordinary and curious prey. For not only her blood was exceptional, but her reactions were new: her mind seemed to yearn for death while her body enjoyed the blood sharing.

She rose staggering, then applied a magical ointment on Faith's wounds which closed immediately. She put her fingers on the young woman's throat and noticed with satisfaction that the pulse was still beating.

Dawn was about to break and Drusilla, exhausted, let Faith regain her strength while she rejoined Spike, already asleep, in their bedroom.


"Tomorrow, Faith..." she whispered slipping into the black sheets as cold as her own body, "Tomorrow, you'll be mine..."


***


Faith had strange and waking dreams.

She saw herself surrounded by vampires, rendered helpless, yelling vainly the other Slayer's name, while the demons were mocking her and moving closer inexorably, their faces changed, contorted masks full of hatred. She saw a human shape in a big black silk dress gliding slowly on the floor, then stop before her and gaze at her while leaning slightly her head to the side. She saw a bloody grimace passing through Drusilla's face, then her demented laughter pierced through her ears. And, in the slightly open mouth, she observed, fascinated, the sharp and gleaming canines soaking in blood - her blood - and the cut tongue, vile snake which suddenly wormed its way between her lips, pouring its carmine venom in her throat. And she felt Buffy's presence, horrified and incredulous witness to her unnatural ecstasy whereas the fire was seizing her entrails and spasms of pleasure were shaking her whole body. Then everything became whined and she heard her name.


"Faith..."


Faith opened her eyes, emerging from her nightmare. To face her tort.
.


"Faith...", Drusilla repeated, gently caressing the Slayer's dark hair.


Something in the vampire's tone made Faith understand she would not see the next day. But what did her life matter now, abandoned by all, abandoned by the only person she had ever loved?

A stinging slap slashed her cheeks and the blood immediately trickled. She looked at Drusilla, majestic in her dark dresses, her vague look through which madness flashed, her black hair impeccably combed cascading around her naked shoulders, her alabaster face devoid of wrinkles, her lips too dark, and those small protuberances, almost imperceptible, under which could be made out the base of the canines. She had an aura of elegance and dignity that made her beautiful and fascinating. Faith did not know the tragic story of Drusilla's human life, she knew nothing about the origin of the madness she could perceive in her eyes, but it attracted her in spite of herself, while she had nothing more to lose.

Faith looked with a semblance of indifference Drusilla spread out a black leather whip and make the handle slide languidly between her exposed breasts, then down her belly to her sex where it stayed for an unbearable instant. Faith could not repress a thrill. What remained of her clothes were only blood-stained scraps and nothing protected the flesh anymore against the long and terrifying lash which began swirling in the air.

A first series of blows hit her chest, slashing the sensitive and fragile flesh, making the blood trickle in tiny rivulets down her legs. A human would have merely whipped, leaving simple scarlet marks. Drusilla, prompted by her vampiric strength, penetrated the skin and made the blood spurt out.

The following blows struck her arms and legs, reminding her ironically that the shackles had not completely numbed her sensations, and that she could still feel the incisive and burning pain.

Drusilla handled her whip with dexterity and precision: each slash was new, parallel to one another, never overlapping, and each time imprinting a new sharp suffering, an original and bloody scarification.

A shower of blows ended the lethal work, leaving an almost bloodless model, a dislocated puppet spattered with red, gazed with admiration by her murderous painter. Since the first salvo, Faith had not emitted the slightest cry. She was now beyond pain.

Drusilla dropped the whip on the floor and moved slowly towards her crucified prey.

With a claw-like finger, she slashed Faith's face and ran her tongue down the cut, before coming down to drink from all the wounds inflicted on her body. The delicious torture lasted a long time before the vampire rose and plunged her iris dilated by pleasure in the Slayer's crazed ones.


"It's time, Faith..."


Drusilla freed the young woman from her shackles. Faith's body was so feeble and so numb that she fell over, unable to stand alone on her feet. The vampire took her in her arms and held her as if she weighed nothing.


"It's time..." Drusilla repeated softly, casting a last and almost maternal glance at the Slayer, before sticking her sharp fangs in the offered throat.


Faith was still on the verge of fainting, but the weird pleasure brought by the vampire suction kept her conscious. She could hear the disturbing noise of the sucking up, then that of the deletion of her vital fluid with such acuity that she had the impression to be inside the woman who was feeding on her. She could also feel against her this dead body previously so cold gradually warming while appropriating her life. Progressively, the outlines of the room and of the objects became hazy, paler, and she felt herself going away, sinking, in an ethereal and fleecy substance, as she distantly perceived, the beatings of her heart slowing down at the rate of her agony.

Drusilla felt Faith's death was close and she had to force herself again to tear herself away from the divine spring of the Slayer. Still holding Faith by her waist, she pushed her back slightly, arching her back, freeing herself sufficiently to make a deep cut just above her own breast. Gently taking Faith's nape with one hand and holding her with the other, she guided her mouth to her breast and, penetrating her disarmed mind, she ordered her to drink. In limbo of her consciousness, Faith heard the sugary, enveloping, loving voice, she smelt the blood fragrance, attracting, intoxicating, and tried to resist.


Drink...

No...

Drink...You've already tasted it... Remember...

No...

You touched the ultimate experience... Remember... You wanna know what there is after..someone dies... You wanna know how far you can go... Take it... I give it to you...


The blood trickled on Faith's lips, entering her throat without her being able to react, and she yielded finally to the instinctive and primary call of survival. The metallic taste overran her mouth as she was kissing the cut, her hands woke up from their torpor to better embrace the vampire, draw her, to better fill with this blood which was partly hers. She suddenly retched, as a last burst of her outraged humanity, and threw her head back, her lips made up with blood, meeting the delirious look of Drusilla, who tenderly drew back her face against the cut.


Drink... I'll make you my child... my child of darkness... You'll never be alone again... Drink...


The last scruples disappeared, as an impression of infinite well-being seized her body and mind, a sensation of lucidity and awareness of supernatural things, an acuity and understanding of the world so strong that it was almost unbearable. Faith opened her mouth and sucked so violently that Drusilla could not repress a groan. The vampire's eyes rolled upwards by pleasure, a rictus stiffened on her ageless face and her hands held the Slayer tighter in her arms. She felt herself weakening in her turn, she had to take care of not going beyond the point of no return. She drew Faith's hair back to move her away from her breast.


I'll make you my child, my sister, my lover...


And she sealed her vow with a deep and long kiss, their tongues intermingling, rolling the blood between them as one tastes the savor of a wine, their bodies locked in an embrace that no one could have broken. Faith, lost in a mix of uninterrupted ecstasy and suffering, surrendered in the vampire's arms, and marvelled at the different degrees of consciousness she was reaching, at the multiplicity of the nuances taken by pleasure and pain. Each time she thought to have attained the limit of the bearable, she managed to climb a new e one on the ladder of the senses exploration.

At last, at the highest of her mystical rapture, she felt herself losing ground, toppled and fell inexorably in an abyssal chasm, she was choking, suffocating, she felt torn inside, her body was burning, struggling against the ineluctable, trying desperately to cling to the ultimate instants of its human life, to escape the pangs of death.


"It hurts... It hurts so much..." whispered Faith moaning.


"Don't be scared, my child... It's just your body dying... It's your soul fleeing... Soon it won't hurt any longer..." breathed Drusilla while tightening up her embrace around Faith's body which was becoming heavy.


And, as she reached the depths of the chasm, like an ultimate cruel farce, her mind showed her a last image, Buffy's image, her reproving look full of contempt for her degradation. At last, her broken heart ceased beating, and in a last shudder, Faith died.


*****

To be continued in Chapter 7