To Protect and Serve Ch. 10

"Let them play," Clara told her, letting her breath slip down Shamira's neck. "Feel it through them. Don't worry about what-ifs. You can do this."

"Are we interrupting something?" Kira asked, poking her head around the corner.

Shamira felt like she'd just been caught by her parents, or at least what she felt it would have been like. She'd never brought anyone home to meet them. "No, it's okay. Why don't you make yourselves comfortable?" She glanced over and saw love and approval from the woman holding her. "I'll just watch for a bit."

"Uhm . . . watch?" Arthur asked, emerging from the bathroom.

Clara pulled Shamira up close so that they were both lounging against the pillows, the injured vampire cradled in her lover's embrace. "Yeah, watch," Clara said, wiggling her eyebrows. Then she nibbled on Shamira's ear, and got another pleasant moan and small whimper. The whimper bothered her, because it was not about pleasure. It was a frustrated noise, because the nibbling did not do everything it used to.

Kira looked at Clara. "Were you --"

"Nope, this is for you guys and Shamira here. I'm just here for the view." She ran her hands down to Shamira's brand new, fully repaired breasts, caressing them through the soft blouse she had gotten Shamira to wear. She had to push her lover's hand away as Shamira instinctively tried to cover herself and the scars and disfigurements that were no longer there. "You're beautiful," she said under her breath so that only Shamira's advanced hearing should hear it. But Kira looked up --

"See, when WE tell her that, she denies it," Arthur said absently.

"You heard that?" Clara asked admiringly. "Nice hearing. Wonder where they got THAT from?" she murmured, licking Shamira's neck. Shamira just eased into her friend, enjoying what sensations she could.

Arthur looked to be the more nervous of the two participants, glancing over at the two vampires even as he attempted to suavely undo the buttons of his shirt. But he got his mind back on the game when his attractive wife started kissing his chest. He even let out a little moan when she nipped his nipples with her teeth.

Shamira felt conflicting pangs in her own skin . . . jealousy and fear. Jealousy and the sexual sensations that these two were feeling, and fear . . . fear of the pain she had felt when the whip had bit her, ripping her apart. Then she knew that she needed this, to be reminded what it is like to be touched but not hurt. Or at least not hurt in any way that one did not ask for. She felt Clara's arms hold tighter.

Arthur got into the game, holding his wife's head against his bare flesh, letting her kiss his chest while he used his other hand to fumble with the zipper on her dress.

'He's looking good,' Shamira thought. 'Lost weight?'

Kira was kissing her way down Arthur's more-toned-than-they-used-to-be abs. She unbuttoned his slacks with her teeth, but needed her fingers to work the slider. His manhood was straining against the soft fabric, popping anxiously into the air and Kira's hand when his zipper slid down. She stroked him lovingly . . . familiarly. She had been doing this since they first met, and since the world of blood and vampires was just pretend.

She touched the tip of his cock with her tongue, stroking his shaft and teasing him with heated breath. Velvety skin slid between greedy lips, and she hummed a little tune that had Arthur in a pleasant enough mood. Her mouth stretched to accept the intruder, taking it until she gagged.

'Not a problem I've had for a while,' Shamira thought. She had no gag reflex anymore. Not for . . . three months? Was that all it had been since her life had been turned on its side? She felt Clara's lips brush against her neck, her tongue making a tiny wet spot right where the neck curved into the shoulder. It helped Shamira to remember that not everything that had happened had been bad. Clara had been good. Hell, so had Sebastian and Henry and the rest and . . . Shane. He had gone through so much for Shamira, and she really had not treated him well. Maybe she could have --

"Eyes on the show," Clara whispered warmly, her hands lightly running over Shamira's breasts. The younger vampire's nipples tingled and tightened. Some of her was still very much capable of enjoying being touched.

Spit was leaking out of the corners of Kira's mouth as Arthur plunged his cock into her mouth. She was reaching around and grabbing his ass, pushing him further into her. He pulled out, allowing his wife to move his balls closer to her mouth so she could take them inside, rolling each against her tongue. Then she returned to the fleshy head, sucking on it hard until Arthur had to withdraw again before he climaxed in her mouth.

He grinned at his wife for her overzealous attempt, then lay back on the bed. Without even asking what he wanted, Kira slid out of her dress and the lay on top of him, face to groin, taking him into her mouth as his tongue dived into her cleft.

Clara felt her lover swallow out of reflex. She knew what Shamira was thinking . . . she could not feel what this couple was feeling. 'You will,' Clara promised, more to herself than to anyone else. 'You'll get better and this . . . this will be us again.' She squeezed Shamira's nipples through the top and was pleased to hear a soft groan.

Kira and Arthur was blissfully ignorant of their surroundings, consumed with lustful thoughts and sensations as they continued their sixty-nine. Shamira wondered if this was their normal modus operandi or if they were performing. Either way, they looked good together. Kira matched every flick of Arthur's tongue against her pussy with a soft hum into the flesh of his cock. Their hands roamed over each others' bodies, digging fingers and nails into flesh and leaving little traces of their tactile explorations. They knew which spots to touch that turned their partners on.

'Like that spot on Clara just below the ear,' she thought. She turned her head and placed a soft kiss on that spot, making her friend get a goofy grin. 'Maybe someday I'll be able to find the rest of those special places.'

Arthur was the first to break from the oral trade going on, though with some obvious reluctance. But when he spun his wife over onto her stomach and then pulled up on her hips. She smiled and put her elbows underneath her, letting her husband reach around and grab her small breasts as pushed into her from behind. They both started to grunt and groan almost instantly, giving their spectators the distinct notion that this was one of their preferred activities. He grabbed her hips harder and started to slam his way in; flesh resounding against flesh and titillating the vampires' sense of hearing.

"Take me harder!" Kira hissed. Arthur slapped her playfully on the ass in response and plunged all the way in, driving a gasp from her lips. He upped his pace, and Kira pressed hard back against him, letting out pleasurable little grunts each time.

Clara's hands found their way under Shamira's blouse, massaging those full breasts and tracing the nipples. "Is this okay?" she asked softly. The last thing she wanted was to make her lover uncomfortable. Could she handle the foreplay without freaking out that the main event was (temporarily) unavailable to her?

Shamira was thinking the same thing, but her mind could not deny that her body was enjoying the attention. She just lay her head against Clara's neck and nodded, her eyes glued to Arthur pounding his wife. "I'm okay," she replied. 'Maybe I should go down on her later,' she pondered.

She knew that Clara had not been with anyone since before Shamira was hurt, and the Native American was certainly not used to going without. Whatever their relationship was, monogamy was not a real option regardless, but Clara would probably abstain out of guilt. Shamira could not allow that, so showing the veteran vampire that Shamira would play as much as she could . . . well, it might help move other things along.

"Clara, did you want me to --" she began.

"Shh," Clara interrupted. "Didn't your mama tell you not to talk during the movie?" She grinned. "We'll have time for us later." With that, she tweaked Shamira's nipples hard, demonstrating for both of them that at least some of the pleasure receptors in Shamira's brain were working just fine.

Shamira's mind was back in the game. "Kira . . . come here. Please?"

Kira looked confused, but crawled away from Arthur towards her vampire mistress. Shamira pulled her close and cradled her like she was being cradled by Clara. Kira was held from behind with Shamira looking over her shoulder. "Arthur, why don't you join us?" she asked.

Clara was so proud of her friend. She was showing signs of life again. They both watched as Arthur crawled forward, easing his member back into his wife's sex after sharing a loving kiss. He could basically make contact with any of three attractive women, but his eyes always were drawn back to Kira.

It was Kira who realized just how close her neck was to Shamira's mouth, and she understood what the vampire had in mind. She wrapped her legs around him while simultaneously flipping her head to one side and exposing the length of her neck. Arthur pressed his body against Kira and thrust with his hips. When he had penetrated as far as he could, Shamira sank her fangs into the woman's neck.

Every thrust by Arthur sent a pulse through Kira's body, and it made her blood sing in her veins. This was what Shamira experienced she drank the human woman's life essence. She was fucking this woman's neck with her fangs, taking her juices, and they were both enjoying it. The pulsing of liquid life through her fangs had a rhythm that nothing else in the world could match and only vampires could hear.

Kira climaxed quickly, loudly, and repeatedly, and the reverberations could be felt in Shamira's psyche. The human woman was breathing heavily and some breaths escaped as whining gasps. Watching her skin pimple up was an added treat.

Shamira felt the echo of the orgasms. It was not the same as feeling it truly rushing through her own body, but it was something. For a broken vampire, "something" was a hell of a lot more than "nothing."

Out of habit, Kira shifted her body so that, with some effort, Shamira could shift in the other direction and reach Arthur's neck. The second her fangs penetrated him, he erupted inside his wife's sex with so much force it almost hurt. He was leaving deposits of his life essence inside two beautiful women . . . and to think his high school guidance counselor said he would never amount to anything.

They lay in a big, sexually satisfied heap for a moment. Clara had a satisfied grin on her face, and all she had done was watch. Shamira knew she was supposed to feed them now, just a little bit. It took a moment to exert her will onto her body, as her body felt it had taken enough punishment for one lifetime.

'This isn't going to hurt,' she told herself, 'and they ask for so little.' She grabbed a small knife from the nightstand and made small cuts in both her wrists, offering them to each human quickly before the wounds healed. Kira and Arthur's mouth sought out that blood so eagerly that Shamira again questioned whether or not that these feedings were changing them in a bad way. True, the apparent health benefits of being a Renfield had manifested itself, but are they truly who they were when they first met? For now, she'd trust her comrades and assume that they were.

Kira and Arthur left shortly thereafter, as Kira still had work to do and Arthur needed to do inventory. They were actually going to be having a big signing in a few weeks of some major comic artists, so he wanted everything in top shape. They thanked Shamira profusely (again) and made her promise to call if there was anything at all that they could help with.

"I really like them," Clara said when they were alone.

"They're good people. I just hope I didn't get them too wrapped up in something dangerous."

"I think they would say that they're having the time of their lives. Lives they thought were over."

"Yeah. I guess." Shamira paused, deciding it was time to talk about Clara's life. "Listen, maybe you should go find Raul or Monique or someone and play with them tonight. I need to go talk to Shane anyway."

Clara looked vexed. "Listen, Kira and Arthur aren't giving up on you, and neither am I. Why are you so anxious to drive people away? Didn't you just have a good time? I mean --"

"Clara, this isn't about me feeling sorry for myself. Not entirely. This is ground truth. You have needs that we both know that I can't meet, and may never be able to meet again." Shamira hated how uncomfortable Clara was beginning to look. "You get off on being dominant and the pain and everything. I know you have to be missing it, 'cause it's a huge part of who you are. If you're going to make me get back in the game, then you have to too."

Her companion looked less than thrilled. "I'm just so pissed off," she admitted. "I'm angry because you're hurt, I'm angry because there doesn't seem to be anything else I can do to make you better, and a domme who is mad . . . well, I'm not sure I could play my role safely, even if I was interested in anyone else right now."

"Are you going to be mad for as long as I'm crippled? Clara, you opened my eyes to stuff I'd never imagined. Yeah, Shane may have got the ball rolling, but you made it both special and normal at the same time. I'm having trouble dealing with a lot of things, and I can't handle it if I'm responsible for screwing up something this important to you."

"You aren't," Clara said, her words trying to catch in her throat. "Hey, it's not like we don't share ourselves with other partners anyway, right? I just can't do it as long as I'm a danger to my sub."

Clara was lying. She simply had no interest in bondage games at the moment, not with Shamira in the shape she was in. The very thought of enjoying carnal pleasures with others with Shamira nearby repelled her, and she knew she was not the only one. A lot of people in the house were less amorous than usual. She truly believed that things would improve with time, but it was as if everyone was waiting for someone else to break that "taboo" of pleasure in the face of tragedy.

Shamira rolled over and got into her chair. "Just . . . try," she said. "And thanks for helping with Kira and Arthur."

"Where are you going?"

"I just need to talk to Shane."

"Shamira, I need to speak with you, " came Shane's voice over the intercom. "Could you please come to my office immediately?"

Shamira's eyes met Clara's. "Okay, that's just creepy," Clara muttered. Of course she insisted on pushing Shamira to her spontaneous appointment. "I'll be here if you need me," she said, having a seat in the waiting room.

Despite her desire for Clara to get on living her life, Shamira was touched by the woman's actions. She was, however, somewhat concerned about Shane. He looked . . . nervous.

"I just want you to know that this is NOT my fault," he started, glancing towards the door.

Shamira was already a little on edge, and this was not helping. "What's wrong? Am I in trouble?"

"No," Shane said with a grimace, "but I probably am."

"Shamira?!" came an all-to-familiar voice from somewhere else in the house. "Where the hell is Shamira?"

"Samantha?" Shamira felt suddenly drained. Her sister should not be there. "What the fuck --" she started, looking back to Shane.

"Blame Lord Pritchard," Shane said, preparing to block any thrown objects that might be headed his way.

"She can't see me like this," Shamira said, looking around. If she could reach a light switch, she could jump away --

There was a sound of scuffling outside the door and a recognizable string of phrases that Shamira's sister only used in the rare situation when her kids were not around and she was really, really pissed off or scared.

"Don't hurt her!" Shamira said, forgetting her "flee" plan and getting ready to fight if necessary. She need not have bothered. She flung the door open and saw her sister Samantha with two handfuls of Renata's hair, while Clara, Bunny, Pierre, and Lord Clyde Pritchard from Huntsville were trying to pry her away. They were obviously taking great pains not to hurt the woman, but Samantha was under no such restrictions.

Samantha's eyes went from wild to tearful when she looked towards the door. She let go of Renata, who started soothing her head and injured roots while Samantha disentangled herself from the others.

"I can explain --" Clyde said, but was forced to dodge as Shamira hurled a potted plant at his head.

"You brought her here?!" she yelled even as her sister knelt beside her and looked her over.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had asked Clyde if he had heard from you lately because you haven't answered your phone in a week and he got really evasive. I knew something had to be wrong. I kept pressing him and he wouldn't answer me --"

"I lost my phone," was the only thing Shamira could think of to say.

"How did you get hurt?!" her sister shouted, standing up. "Why wouldn't any of these people let me see you?"

"They're just making sure you don't barge in on Shane," Shamira said, trying to calm her frantic sister. "Shane is my boss, and --"

"You!" Samantha pointed a finger in Shane's face. "You're responsible for her then! You're the guy that made her, right? So--"

"Samantha, Shane isn't to blame for this. I'm in this chair because I screwed up. I didn't follow protocol and I got myself into a bad situation. Luckily, Renata . . . the girl whose hair you were pulling . . . showed up to pull my ass out of the fire --"

"Fire? What fire? Tell me what happened and don't you dare lie to me because I can tell when you're lying and I always have and don't try to distract me with anything like 'Where are the kids' because they're at the parents' after I told them --"

"Samantha, I don't need to breathe. You do," Shamira interrupted. She stiffened her shoulders. "Let's go outside. Can you guys give us a minute?"

The two sisters made their way out to one of the immaculately manicured lawns, and Shamira spilled the story again. She hated telling it, though it was getting a little easier. Yes, she got into a fight and was shot. Yes, she was captured and hurt very badly.

She refused to explain what happened in the garage basement for that twenty-four hour period. Samantha could see in her sister's eyes that there were things she just did not want to revisit. Shamira emphasized that she was no longer planning on killing herself, and she inquired more about how her sister had come to be here.

Much as Samantha had said earlier, she told how she had gotten a bad vibe after not hearing from Shamira in a while and how evasive Clyde (her sister just called him "Clyde") had been when she inquired. It had gotten to the point where Samantha had threatened to go public with their existence unless the werewolf came up with some answers and, since he did not want to have to kill the human woman for outing his people, he had confessed that Shamira had been "badly injured" in a fight.

An enormously powerful werewolf had caved before the might of Samantha, a soon-to-be-divorced veterinarian with two kids. Shamira was not too surprised though. Samantha was a ferocious as a mother bear when someone she cared about was threatened.

"Tell me straight," Samantha asked towards the end, "do they know how long it will be until you walk again? I mean, you're a super healer and everything, right?"

Shamira lowered her head. "Sam, most everything I can heal should have healed already. We just have to accept that there's a really . . . really good chance that I'll never walk again."

"That's not . . . what are you going to do?" Samantha asked, looking as helpless as Shamira thought.