Victim

I could feel his breath, hot against my left cheek, against my neck. His lips brushed the jugular in the neck, and his teeth grazed the tender flesh. I braced in anticipation as I felt his canines lengthen. His hand caressed the back of my neck and my right shoulder, sending goosepimples marching promptly in its trail. For a moment the light pressure disappeared, and I knew that he raised his head to prepare for the strike. I braced again, drew a shaky breath and shuddered as his teeth breached my skin.

I could feel it all very clearly, my skin curling to the sides, a sense of coldness as air entered the wound, then a hot sensation as blood blowed out of the small wounds out onto my neck before he caught it with his mouth, fastened himself to the wound. As my lifeblood left me and flowed out to nourish him instead, I felt my capillaries contract with loss of blood. My fingers and toes went numb, and I felt drunk. Then the drunkenness vanished and was replaced with a headache, a profound one that you knew would only fade with a lot of sleep and replacement of fluids. I slowly faded away into Morpheus kingdom with a feeling of sexual content and tiredness, but most of all with a sense of being lost. Lost, because I loved it.

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