“I’m sorry, sir. There are no other flights tonight, what with the storm.” As if to punctuate the young ramp agent’s sentence, there was a deep rumble of thunder that rattled the windows behind her. Her name tag said her name was Samantha, and she frowned slightly at her computer. “The soonest I can put you and your companion on a flight will be tomorrow morning at nine, with a connecting flight through BWI. Will that be sufficient?” She looked up, pleasant and hopeful despite the fact that people had to have been yelling at her all night for the flight delays and cancellations.
Daniel sighed, reaching up and rubbing the collar he wore beneath his shirt. She must not have noticed the diplomatic codes on the reservation, or she probably wouldn’t be so eager to please. “It’ll have to do. What are the odds of getting a hotel, do you think?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know, sir. I’m afraid the airline doesn’t put people up because of canceled flights. Not anymore.” She looked past him, then met his eyes and lowered her voice. “Is your master going to be all right with the delay?”
“You did notice the codes?” Daniel asked, amazed. “Which means you’ve also noticed how long we’ve been in transit. I have to say, you’re remarkably calm for someone–”
“Who knows she has a vampire who will no doubt need to drink living blood within the next few hours?” She smiled. “I know a bit more about vampires than most laymen. My sister is a bond-slave. And she has the same fidget.” Samantha raised her hand to her collar, mimicking Daniel’s gesture. “She’s been a bond-slave five years now, and I know her Master well. And… honestly, there can’t be that many albino Japanese vampires. Even if I hadn’t seen his name on the reservations, I’d know that your master was Justiciar Hiro Itami. How soon will he need living blood?”
“Soon.” Daniel lowered his voice. “Any suggestions?”
“For casual travelers, any of the restaurants would be able to provide poured blood. You can even get it at the coffeeshop right where you came off the escalator. But for the privacy you’d need–” Samantha gnawed her lip for a moment, then her eyes widened. “Yes. I have an idea. Give me a minute, will you?” She picked up her phone and dialed. “Hi, Chris? It’s Sam. Please tell me you have an opening?”
Daniel stepped away from the desk to give her a chance to do whatever she was doing, walking over to the Japanese man sitting nearby. He looked like a wealthy businessman, impeccably groomed in an expensive suit, his eyes hidden behind dark, designer sunglasses. But there was nothing that could hide either his striking white hair, or his otherworldly air.
“So?” he asked, his deep, accented voice enough to melt Daniel’s bones. He lived for this man, breathed for him, would do anything for him.
“There are no flights leaving tonight, Itami-sama,” Daniel answered, bowing slightly, then going to his knees. “The agent is seeing what she can do, but the soonest we can be on our way home is tomorrow morning.”
Itami grimaced, and Daniel caught the glint of his fangs as his lips parted. He swallowed, desire and fear mingled as they always did. They had been late to the airport this morning in Denver, so Itami had settled for poured blood before the flight, foregoing the lengthy rituals that revolved around the taking of living blood. If all had gone well, they’d have been home in New York by now. But the storm that had settled over Atlanta had delayed their connecting flight, then grounded it. Now–
“I suppose there is always the men’s room,” Itami said, his distaste clear in his voice. “There can be no proper preparations, but it is better than–”
“Sirs?” Samantha called, her soft footsteps coming closer. “I’ve made arrangements for you, complements of the airline.”
Daniel glanced at Itami, who nodded. He rose, dusting off his knees. “I thought you said the airlines didn’t do that anymore?” he asked.
“I pulled strings, and cleared them with my manager. It was the diplomatic codes that did the trick.” She smiled. “Terminal B, by Gate 19. It’s called the Nap Attack. They’re waiting for you.”
“What is this Nap Attack?” Itami asked, standing up. He didn’t bother with his bags — Daniel collected the attache and the shoulder bag, along with his own messenger bag.
“It’s a sort of micro-hotel, for people who have long layovers,” Samantha answered. “A private place to rest or work. Sometimes we — I mean, the airport employees — take advantage of it on nights like this. They have comfortable couches, and showers. And the suites are sound-proofed.” She smiled, bowed slightly to Itami, and added, “Drink deep and well, Justiciar.”
Itami’s eyes widened. Then he laughed. “Thank you. You have a familiar scent to you. I think… is it Claire, bound to Grigori, to whom you are related?”
Samantha dimpled. “Clara, sir. And yes. She’s my sister.”
“I will pass on my compliments to Grigori, then,” Itami said. “His bond comes from a fine family. Daniel, make a note. Also, a note of commendation to the airline for this fine young lady.”
“Yes, sir,” Daniel said. He smiled to the now-blushing Samantha as he followed Itami away from the gate.
*
Nap Attack looked like an odd storefront, one that perhaps sold toiletries and closet doors. Daniel went up to the counter, which bore a bold “No Vacancies” sign. The young man behind the desk smiled.
“Daniel Remington? We’ve been expecting you.” He picked up a clipboard and handed it to Daniel. “Just sign here for yourself and your Master. I’ve put extra linens in already. No one should bother you.”
Daniel smiled and scrawled his name across the bottom, skimming the rental agreement as he did so. “How long do we have the room?”
“Until tomorrow morning, eight o’clock,” the young man answered. He handed Daniel a key-card. “Suite five, all the way back, on the left. Our last one. Sammy’s timing was perfect. Right after she called, we had three attempts to rent it within five minutes.”
“I appreciate it,” Daniel said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If you need anything, just ring the desk.” He looked past Daniel and nodded. “Drink deep, sir.”
“My thanks,” Itami said. “Daniel.”
Daniel nodded and led the way to the last door on the left. He opened the door, stepped back and let Itami enter first, then followed his master. A low, wide couch, with blankets and pillows stacked neatly on one end and a trundle underneath. A tiny desk, and a comfortable-looking armchair. An internal door that led into a bathroom, with a small pocket of a closet between the rooms. He set the bags down on the floor and turned to lock the door. It closed solidly, thumping into place with more gravitas than he’d have expected; instantly, the incessant hum of noise from the airport was cut off, leaving only the slight burr of the air conditioner. Daniel nodded. Sound-proofed, indeed. He turned to face the room, and saw Itami coming out of the bathroom, carrying a towel. He’d laid his sunglasses aside, revealing his pale violet eyes.
“Are the lights too bright?” Daniel asked. He checked over his shoulder — yes, there was a dimmer switch. “I can turn them down–”
“I am fine,” Itami answered. ” He laid the towel on the back of the chair, and smiled. His fangs were fully extended, and his voice slurred when he spoke.
“Your suit. Remove it. Unless you wish it ruined.” Daniel swallowed and reached for his tie. As he untied and unbuttoned, he saw Itami take up his shoulder bag and unzip it.
“On our next trip, we must plan more thoroughly. Our ritual will be abbreviated,” Itami said as Daniel went to the closet to hang his suit. When he returned, he was wearing only his collar and the specially-made resin chastity cage to which Itami held the only keys. He moved to Itami’s side.
“May I take your coat, Tono?” he asked, fixing his eyes on the large screened television on the wall. He knew what was in the bag — he’d packed it — but he wouldn’t look at what awaited him until Itami gave him leave.
“We are alone, koibito,” Itami murmured. Daniel turned slightly and saw his master smiling at him.
“I know,” Daniel answered. “I like taking care of you, Hiro. And I will never get tired of calling you my master. So, may I take your coat?”
“You may,” Itami answered, letting Daniel take the suit jacket from him. Daniel walked back into the closet, trying to fight the urge to bury his face in the jacket and just breathe in Itami’s scent. People wanted to believe that bond-slaves were unwilling victims, coerced into serving the vampiric elite and held captive through means either nefarious or demonic. He knew better. He hung the coat neatly on a hanger and returned to Itami’s side.
The chair had been moved to the middle of the small room, and Itami had spread the towel over it. He stopped in the middle of rolling up his shirt sleeves, and gestured without saying a word; his meaning was clear. Daniel sat down, resting his hands on his knees. Waiting. Itami walked slowly around him, stroking his chin. Deliberating. Then he nodded and returned to the desk, picking up a bundle of what Daniel knew was several long lengths of silk cording, very light and extremely strong. Itami said nothing, tucking the bundle into his pocket before moving behind Daniel and running his hands down Daniel’s arms to his wrists, closing around them and drawing Daniel’s arms behind him. Daniel tipped his head back, his eyes closing as the silk cord tightened around his wrists, binding them together. He wasn’t sure what Itami was planning — he never knew until it was over. But he never cared, either.
“Open, koibito,” Itami murmured. “I want to see your eyes.”
Daniel blinked, watching as Itami appeared in front of the chair, going to his knees as he bound Daniel’s ankles to the legs of the chair. Then he reached down and tugged, and Daniel felt pressure on his wrists. Itami’s smile was feral as he drew the end of the cord up between Daniel’s legs and attached it to the cage. Then he rose, taking a step back.
“It is far more simple than we are used to, but needs must. Still, it is enough.” Itami studied his handiwork for a moment, then growled deep in his throat. “Struggle,” he said, his voice thick. “Fight it.”
Daniel tugged on the bindings, feeling the movements of his arms pulling on his cock, knowing that he was going nowhere, and knowing that Itami needed him to fight. Needed the illusion of taking down his prey. Even though Itami knew that Daniel would bare his throat for him willingly if he so much as crooked a finger. Daniel tugged harder, and moaned as his growing erection fought against the warm prison of the chastity cage. He heard Itami laugh, a deep chuckle. Then he heard a soft jingle. His head shot up, and he saw Itami drawing a chain out from beneath his shirt and slipping it over his head.
“Hiro?” he gasped, straightening, pulling on the cords. Itami just laughed, using the key dangling from the chain to unlock the chastity cage. He slowly slipped it off, until Daniel’s erection was freed. Daniel whimpered, then yelped as Itami wound the now loosened end of the cord around his cock and balls and pulled it tight.
“I will feast,” Itami slurred. “But perhaps an aperitif first?” He knelt in front of Daniel, slid his hands underneath Daniel’s ass, and swallowed Daniel’s cock. Daniel gasped, his body going rigid as he felt the head of his cock entering Itami’s throat. Long fingers slid over his ass, teasing light strokes that made Daniel squirm and thrust between the probing hands and the warmth of Itami’s mouth. Daniel felt the brush of Itami’s fangs against the sides of his cock, then Itami’s hands locked, holding Daniel in place, growling around his cock as Daniel came, thrashing mindlessly against the cords and his master’s hands.
When he finally went limp, and Itami let him go, he heard that wonderful, deep laugh. “How long, koibito, since I last allowed you to spend?”
Daniel gasped, whimpering and trying to remember how to talk. Or add. Or think. Right now, breathing was taking up all his conscious control. Finally, he managed to stammer, “Ah… two… two weeks. I think.”
Fingers trailed over his cheek, and Daniel opened his eyes to see Itami smiling down at him. “I shall have to remember to allow it more often. You came far too quickly. But it was a lovely appetizer, nonetheless.” The chair shifted, and the cord tugged painfully on Daniel’s cock as Itami rested one knee between his legs. He placed his hands on Daniel’s shoulders and bared his fangs. Daniel sighed, leaning his head back as far as he could, and turning his face toward the door to better offer his throat to his beloved master.
The ignorant believed that vampires were savages, that they would half-murder their bond-slaves with their brutality. Nothing could be further from the truth. When Itami drank living blood from Daniel, he did it elegantly. Almost delicately, and this time was no exception. He leaned his body against Daniel’s, pinning him in place. He lowered his head and buried his nose into Daniel’s hair, his breath soft against Daniel’s neck. He licked, once, the ticklish spot just beneath Daniel’s ear, then trailed his tongue down until his lips brushed against the pulse hammering in Daniel’s throat. Then he paused. He always did, waiting until Daniel whimpered in need and lust, bending his head even further back in silent offering.
“Hiro!” he whimpered, pushing up against the body pushing him down. “Please, Hiro, please!”
There was a moment, the barest breath where Daniel was certain that time stopped entirely. It was the only explanation for that eternity where all that he could feel over his entire body was the heat of Itami’s lips, the warmth of his breath, the feel of his body against Daniel’s. Until that stillness was shattered by the needle-prick of fangs as sharp as needles, as Itami began to feed. The pain was replaced almost immediately by heat, as whatever alchemy was found in the body chemistry of a vampire sent every pleasure center of Daniel’s body into overdrive. He groaned, straining against the cords, his cock starting to stir once more as he was overwhelmed with a desperate need for satiation, one that would only be filled when Itami finished with him. Itami shifted, his bite deepening, his low, guttural moan hitting Daniel like a physical blow, like the stroke of a flogger.
Unexpectedly, Itami reached between them, grasping Daniel’s cock in his hand as he shifted once more, sipping more leisurely now, caressing the skin of Daniel’s throat with his tongue. Daniel’s pleas were swallowed in his choking, gasping moans of pleasure, caught between the ecstasy of being the feast, and the feel of Itami’s hand stroking him back to aching hardness.
He felt Itami’s laughter against his skin, felt the ache and loss as the fangs slid from his veins, followed by the gentle swipe of the flat of Itami’s tongue. That same alchemy that produced the overwhelming pleasure as the vampire fed also healed the wounds completely, leaving not even a trace of a scar. When and if a bond-slave returned to civilian life, there would be no signs left behind of their time serving in a vampire’s collar.
Daniel closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath as Itami moved away. He usually came when Itami fed, but this time, it was too soon; vampiric chemistry couldn’t combat the human refractory period. It was too much, too much stimulation. Now his skin felt as if it was on fire, and he was hard enough that the air against the head of his cock felt like sandpaper. He shifted, feeling the pull of the cords against his ankles and wrists, but no answering pull from his cock. The cord must have come free. He whimpered, then moaned as gentle fingers trailed down his throat, over his collarbone, and down the length of the ugly scar on his chest.
“Daniel?” Itami murmured. “You did not spend.”
“You expected me to? Twice in under ten minutes?” Daniel gasped. “I’m sorry, Hiro. I don’t think that’s possible. Not for me.” He blinked rapidly, trying to force himself to more coherent thought, then caught his breath as fingers brushed the inside of his ankle. The cords fell loose on his left ankle, then on his right, and Itami pulled him out of the chair and onto his feet, holding him close. Daniel rested his cheek against Itami’s shoulder, breathing in his scent, feeling the rough raw silk of Itami’s shirt under his cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you to go down on me,” he murmured. “But it’s a good thing you did. If I’d come when you were feeding, I’d have shot all over your suit.”
“Suits can be cleaned,” Itami’s voice was a comfortable rumble against Daniel’s ear. “I have left you in discomfort. This is unacceptable.” He stepped back, holding Daniel at arm’s length. Then he pulled him close once more, and kissed him. Daniel moaned, tugging against the silken cords that still bound his hands behind him, and Itami drew back, just far enough that his lips tickled against Daniel’s when he spoke. “What do you want, my Daniel?”
“You,” Daniel answered immediately. “Only you. Always you.”
Itami smiled, kissing Daniel once more, then stepped back and helped Daniel to his knees. He took the towel from the chair, and draped it over the edge of the couch. “Then you know what to do, my Daniel.”
Daniel bowed his head and shifted on his knees until he was able to bend over the couch. He could hear Itami behind him, the rustle and slide of silk and wool. When he tried to look, something came flying at him, settling over his head and shoulders — Itami’s shirt.
“Need I gag and blindfold you?” Itami chided. He ran his nails down the length of Daniel’s spine. Then his body covered Daniel’s as he knelt behind him; Daniel felt Itami’s cock against his ass, heard the snap of the tube of lube opening, and moaned. There was no preparation, no gradual teasing — Daniel couldn’t have stood the extra stimulation, and Itami knew it. No, there was only Itami’s hard cock, slick with the gel lubricant, pressing against Daniel’s ass. Daniel yowled, louder than he was used to, fighting to stay still as Itami entered him.
“I think that we will test the sound-proofing of this room,” Itami murmured. “Unless…”
Something soft and warm thumped down over Daniel’s head. He had a moment to realize that it was a pillow before Itami pressed down on it, muffling Daniel’s voice and cutting off his air. Daniel bucked, but Itami’s body over his, and his strong hands on the pillow, kept him from moving. He felt Itami’s knee, pushing his apart, opening him wider. Then Itami was moving against him, fast and hard, his breath hot on Daniel’s back. Daniel strained against the cords, gasping for air, his entire world narrowing to the single point that was Itami’s cock. He could feel his orgasm building, feel the darkness creeping around the edges of his consciousness. How long could he stay like this, before he passed out?
He tried to breathe, feeling the pillow ticking filling his mouth and nose, and rational thought dissolved; he started to fight in earnest, pushing up against Itami, shifting from side to side, trying to get away from the suffocating pillow. All his struggling accomplished was to make Itami bear down on him more, thrust harder, and to rub his own cock against the towel enough that he howled his orgasm into the gathering darkness. As he slipped away, he felt sharp needle-pricks in the back of his shoulder.
He woke on the floor, his head pillowed on Itami’s thigh, Itami’s fingers combing through his hair. He’d been out long enough for Itami to untie him, then rebind his hands in front of him. He took a long, shuddering breath, then another.
“Are you awake, koibito?” Itami asked.
Daniel nodded, his cheek scratching against Itami’s skin. “Yes.”
“Good. You are well? I did not harm you?”
Daniel tried to shift, discovered his ankles were bound together as well. So he rolled, twisting until he was looking up at Itami. “I’m fine, Hiro. How long was I out?”
“Not very long. A few minutes.”
Daniel nodded. “And did I imagine it, or did you bite me again?”
Itami laughed, his fingers curling into Daniel’s hair, then running down his neck. “Yes. It pleased me to do so, and pleased you as well. You are a magnificent feast, my Daniel.”
Daniel smiled. “Three course meal. Appetizer, entree and dessert.” He looked down at himself, the cords that bound his wrists and his ankles. Then he looked up at Itami and grinned. “And leftovers?”
Itami laughed. “No, koibito. I am sated, and I think I will be until we get home. You will rest now.” He shifted, leaving Daniel lying on the floor as he rose. Daniel sat up, and noticed that the couch had been cleared off, and the blankets and pillows arranged to make a bed. Itami bent, lifting Daniel easily and setting him on the couch. As he drew the blankets up, Daniel held his hands up.
“You’re not resting?”
“I thought I would work while you slept.”
“Hiro, you have to rest, too,” Daniel protested. “I know you just fed, but you still need rest. There’s enough room.”
Itami sat down on the edge of the wide couch and smiled, looking down at Daniel. “I bind you so that you will not overexert yourself, and you still insist on caring for me.”
“That’s my job, Hiro,” Daniel said gently. “Also my privilege and my pleasure. Now come lie down.”
Itami nodded. “Until you sleep, then.” He rose, walked over to dim the lights, then came back and joined Daniel underneath the blankets, prodding Daniel so that he rolled onto his side, then drawing him into his arms, his back resting against Itami’s chest.
Daniel sighed, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Hiro.”
“You are welcome, Daniel.” Itami’s breath on his neck was soft. “Kimi wa totemo taisetsu ni yo.”
Daniel felt his breath catch. “I love you, too,” he murmured.
“I know, koibito. I know.”
—
Elizabeth Schechter has been called one of the top erotica and alternative sexuality writers in the world. Her writing credits include the award-winning steampunk erotic romance House of Sable Locks, the science fiction BDSM duology Tales from the Arena, and the Celtic fantasy Princes of Air. Her shorter work has appeared in anthologies edited by D.L King (Carnal Machines), Laura Antoniou (No Safewords), and Cecilia Tan (Jingle Balls; Like a Prince).
Elizabeth Schechter was born in New York at some point in the past. She is officially old enough to know better, but refuses to grow up. She lives in Central Florida with her husband and son, and a most accepting circle of friends who are both very amused and very proud of the pervy, fetish writer in their midst.
Elizabeth can be found online at https://elizabethschechterwrites.com, or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/Elizabeth.A.Schechter.
Tales from the Arena: Playing For Keeps
