Midnight Series (camren version)

Chapter 39

Mistress

Everything happened in slow motion. One moment, I was drinking from her after commanding her to come, and the next, I was staring down at her wrist, watching blood pool in four distinct circles—circles the exact size of my fingers.

I'd eaten her almost every day this week. I thought I'd be able to get my fill by now, enough to quench my thirst, but I craved my butterfly's juices the way a youngling craved nourishment.

I just couldn't get enough. I felt like lying between her legs and drinking lazily for hours, but I had promised Ally I would go to the club with them later. I didn't really want to go, but if I went with them tonight—for an hour—they would leave me alone for a while.

The scene seemed to be going so well. I'd been spanking her on a fucking horse, and was glad to put it to its proper use. I had chosen a very large dildo to attach to the part that flipped up, as I wanted her to feel fully satisfied when she was finished. She had come hard, as had I.

When I'd been drinking from her, I'd been so absorbed in her flavor and what I was doing, I hadn't noticed what she was doing. By the time I looked up, I could see she'd been playing in my come and was about to taste it.

I couldn't believe I'd been so careless with my come. The truth was, I liked the idea of her wearing it for as long as possible. It was dangerous, though, and I knew that. I was stupid to leave it on her for so long.

I had taken precautions every time before when I'd come on her body.

I'd made sure, with both my superior vision and keen sense of smell, that she had no cuts on her—not even microscopic ones—before I allowed my come to touch her. I knew it was laced with toxin. If it got into an open cut, it would paralyze her and potentially kill her.

I hadn't checked her hands for wounds, and likely there were. Humans usually had tiny cuts around their fingernails, but worse than that, she almost brought her hand to her mouth, which most certainly would have had microscopic abrasions.

I'd panicked and grabbed her hand, throwing it above her head. I knew I'd done it too fast and too hard, but I wasn't thinking about anything other than stopping her at that moment. I'd also called her Camila, and I wasn't yet sure if she'd noticed. But at that moment, she wasn't my submissive, butterfly; she was Camila, my mate.

I stared at her. I could smell the salt of her tears, though I couldn't see them yet through the blindfold. Her wrist was already swelling, and her blood was pooling beneath the skin in what would be bruises that would be visible to the human eye in a matter of hours.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to do anything without your permission. I was just feeling so...and then I just...I don't know." Her sobbing was getting louder, and I could see the tears now leaking out from under her blindfold.

She thought I was upset because she had done something without permission. I could use that to cover my true intentions.

"You must always obey me," I stated, hoping my voice was now calm. "Yes, Mistress, and I'm sorry I didn't. You can use my body in any way you want, punish me in any way you deem necessary. I won't say 'mum'."

I sighed in relief at the crisis that had just been avoided. I wanted to just cradle her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but I didn't want to scare her by telling her how I felt. The fact that I knew she was my mate had nothing to do with her feelings for me. She didn't love me. She wanted me to dominate her, and that was what I would do—more carefully from now on.

"I will use your body in any way that I see fit, like I did earlier tonight, and like I will every time I have you in here. You are mine."

I saw her nipples pebble at my words and arousal begin to seep from her once again.

"Now, little one, let me look at your hand. I didn't mean to grab you so hard." I didn't explain further, and she didn't seem to need more.

She lifted her hand in the air, and I took it gently. I could see the bruises I left, but I was actually looking for straight purple lines, indicating breaks or fractures. I didn't see any. "Open and close your hand." She complied and I smiled in relief. It would likely be sore, but apparently I hadn't done it as hard as I'd thought. The padding on the table must have helped, too.

I cleaned her off carefully and kissed her thoroughly before ending our scene. I wanted to drink from her again, but I didn't because I had to get to that club. I'd promised that I'd be there in an hour, and I still had to give my butterfly time to get to bed. Sure, I could have her clean up the playroom and go to bed herself while I was out, but I could never go unless I knew she was safe at home. That, and there was no way I was going to have her clean the playroom the way her wrist was. I was almost certain it wasn't broken, but even at best, it would be sore. That meant I would be the one to clean the playroom tonight.

I didn't have her write in her journal, either. I told myself it was because of her wrist, but if I was truthful, I was a bit afraid of what she might write. Once she had left and entered the elevator, I ran back in and cleaned the playroom at Nermac speed. Well, everything except the table she'd been on. That, I cleaned slowly. It was covered in her come, and I stopped to inhale her scent. Then, thankful that no one could see me, I licked up what was left of the puddle she'd made.

It was with that taste on my tongue that I made my way to the club, stopping only briefly at my apartment to call Camila and tell her goodnight.

I arrived at the club to find that nothing had changed in my few weeks' absence, yet by the end of the night, I'd find that everything had changed.