Fountain of Youth

Malevolence knew she had fucked up good this time. She winced as she sat in the corner of her room, staring at the white wash walls. Her mahogany hair was pulled back in a long ponytail, and she was tempted to release it, to hide her shame. She remembered her master's warning however, and she sat still. She had disobeyed him and was in enough trouble already.

She felt the tears form and sting her eyes, blurring her vision. How could she have lost it like that? She remembered nothing from her tantrum, but when she came to she had seen the damage she had caused, her fangs dripping with the blood of the innocent girl her master had taken into his home. She looked down shamefully at her porcelain skin, her arms and hands still stained with the girl's blood. Malevolence had seen the way her master had looked at the girl, and, in a fit of jealous rage, she had blacked out. The girl's blood had stained her starch white tunic a deep, now brownish red. She smiled rather sadistically in remembrance of the girl's face, how it had contorted in terror...wait. Did she really remember that?

Yes, for within her subconscious, she had seen everything. It all came flooding back to her now: how she had walked up to the girl after her master had retired to his chambers the night before, how she had grabbed her by her throat and, flashing her fangs in a malicious smile, she ripped the girl's esophagus out and feasted on her blameless, virgin blood, pure, sweet and deliciously warm, like that of a new born calf. The girl had balked like one too, pathetic little cun—

"The master summons you to his chambers, miss," her reverie was interrupted by one of the maids of the manor. She turned and hissed at the bitch, but the lass smirked at her, "'tis not my fault that you couldn't control yourself," she said snootily as she stalked off. Malevolence cringed, knowing the maid was right. She rose, and strode quickly to his chambers, knowing that he did not like to be kept waiting...she reached the giant oak doors and, inhaling deeply, let out a shuddery sigh as she knocked.

"Enter" boomed the voice of her master. She timidly opened the doors and entered, quietly closing the doors behind her. Lysander was not a small man. In fact, he resembled that of a Sequoia, tall and foreboding. He had long black hair, always pulled back in a ponytail, and piercing pitch black eyes. He had had his back to her, his starch white cotton shirt casting flickering shadows on the burgundy walls because of the fireplace's ghostly glow. He held his hands behind his back and she winced again, noting that his feet were shoulder width apart, a sure sign of his anger. He turned and looked deep into her violet eyes, the fire casting an eerie, livid gleam in his eyes. "Strip, Malevolence," his voice was low and dangerous, leaving no room for neither argument, nor hesitation. She obeyed immediately, and, discarded her tunic. As a rule, she was forbidden to wear anything underneath it. She stood, trembling and bare naked, before him. He nodded his approval and strode over to the bench. He gestured to her, and she went to him.

"Master, I—"she was silenced by a raise of his hand.

"I will have none of it, Malevolence, you know what you did was inexcusable," he said shortly.

"But master, sh--" Lysander grabbed Malevolence's wrist, pulling her over the bench and bringing large, firm hand over her backside. She yelped and became quiet again.

"Did I not just instruct you, that I would not tolerate your behavior under any circumstances?"

"Yes, sir," she gasped.

"Straddle the bench," he commanded.

"E-excuse me?" she squeaked.

SMACK! His hand came down again, this time he grabbed her left leg and swung it over the bench. In this position, her sex was in plain sight and she squirmed, feeling strangely modest. She held on to the bench and retained her position as he rose. She saw him stride over to the closet. She began to tremble again. He picked up what looked like a riding crop and returned.

"Malevolence," he said in a low and foreboding tone, "you are to remain in that position until I tell you to do otherwise. You will learn to have better self-control by the time we are done here. If you move out of that position before I instruct you to do so, I will flog you. Is that understood?"

Trembling, Malevolence nodded. "Lay your head all the way down, so that your nose touches the bench." She made the mistake of hesitating again, and the crop was applied in between her shoulder blades. "Do not make me repeat myself, Malevolence," he growled in a low tone. She'd rather he'd yell at her. She did not like these soft tones he was using. She did as she was told, closing her eyes as she felt the cool red wood on her face. Her serenity was short lived however, as the riding crop was applied sharply to her backside. She winced and clenched the bench so tightly that her knuckles turned whiter. She knew by how severely he was punishing her now that he intended to leave welts and bruises. He was increasing the speed and intensity steadily, and Malevolence could sense that he was testing her self control. By the time he had reached 100 strokes, the tears were streaming down her face onto her pale breasts, and her backside felt like it was on fire.

When he stopped, she forgot herself, and reached back to comfort her smarting backside. He rectified this, bringing the crop down on her hands. She pulled them back quickly. "Did I give you permission to soothe yourself?" he asked softly. She winced and shook her head. She looked up at him, begging with her eyes. "No, Malevolence." She frowned; she did not like to be spoken to like a small child. She was almost 518 years old. In a single act of defiance, she reached back and rubbed her bottom.

He lashed out with the crop again, but she transformed into her wolf-like state and growled menacingly as it clipped her ear. He did not flinch, but brought it down on her back. She yelped and leapt up, whirling on him, bristling and growling crossly. He hit her on her nose. She did the unthinkable: she bit him. He howled and, tossing the crop aside, back-handed her across her muzzle, knocking her to the ground. In a flash, the black wolf was upon her, his golden and blood red eyes gleaming furiously into her frightened silver ones. He bit her hindquarters. She gave a bark as her mahogany fur turned dark red from her blood. She snarled at him. He sliced her nose open. She whimpered then, and rolled over submissively, exposing her belly fur.

He continued growling threatening at her. He barked a command and she obeyed at once, rolling on her belly and sticking her rump in the air. He mounted her roughly and she gave a yelp, but curled her lips back, remaining submissive. He snarled and pounded into her deeply, she gave a yelp each time, and there was blood on his length when he dismounted her. She tucked her tail between her legs and tried to go under the bed. He spoke. "Malevolence, where do you think you are going? Did I say I was done with you?" Malevolence flinched as she came back, tail still between her legs and her ears pulled back in pain.

P-p-please," she whimpered, "n-no more Lysander, I'm sorry, I truly am..." He snarled, baring his fangs, and she grew silent. Lysander returned to his original form, indicating for her to do the same. Cringing, she did so, the blood from her sex trickling down her legs.

"Why did you kill her Malevolence? Benecia did nothing to you. You know that when you are hungry, you tell your Master, and I will feed you. Instead, you did the unimaginable and preyed on the blood of an innocent girl. Now you are being punished for it, and you do not want to accept the consequences of your actions..."

"I-I-"she hung her head," you loved her more than you love me..." the tears glistened in her eyes, "I did not want to be cast away after..."

"After, what Malevolence?" he prodded gently. He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. As she rested her head on his chest, she smelled the blood from the wound she had inflicted on his arm and she began to quiver. "Malevolence, you are my loyal servant. Yes, you are a slave," she cringed at the word "slave", but he continued, "but I told you from the very start that I always take good care of my loyal servants. You have remained here with me for nearly five hundred years, obeying my every command. Yes, you did question me at times, and I did test your loyalties, but rarely was I ever disappointed by you." He kissed the top of her head, and she wrapped her arms around him, licking at the gash in his arm. She could feel his lips curl up in a smile, and she continued, his wound healed after about five minutes and he held her close.

He whispered, "After all the blood you spilled, and you are still hungry?" He gave a soft chuckle, "Well I too am hungry..." he nuzzled her, and she, smiling her half fanged smile, tipped her head to the side, exposing her jugular vein. He dipped his head and fed, slicing her just enough to get a small stream of blood to his lips. He moaned, "Sinfully sweet," and her eyes glinted. He picked her up while he fed, his hands supporting her backside. Though she winced from the welts and bruises (she could not heal these right away unlike the wounds) she wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her over to the bed, laying her down gently.

When he had finished, about fifteen minutes later, they locked tongues and she began stripping him of his garments: shirt, pants, and shoes. He ran his hands down her body, and ran them up again, massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples, he lowered his head and suckled her 'til her nipples were pink and erect. Her sex had mended itself, and he gently entered her, rocking his hips rhythmically. She purred and arched, and he gave a low growl of pleasure. He began sparring with her, thrusting gently at first, but increasing in speed and intensity. She desperately clung to him, her nails digging into his back and her feet around his waist; he cradled her to his chest, as they spiraled into climax together, feeling the heat of the moment and the ecstasy of love. When the moment passed, they feel into a peaceful slumber, with his arms around her in a loving and protective embrace.