Teresa sprawled over Roland’s knee. He’d promised her a spanking when they arrived at his home, and they’d been there for all of quarter of an hour. He was delivering. His hand landed on her bottom and sometimes, more painfully, on the backs of her thighs.

Teresa held on tight to his right leg for balance and sometimes kicked her legs, though that was mostly for his benefit. She knew he was roused by this, only partly because of the hard mass pressed against her right thigh.    

Her long velvet skirt was pulled up and piled at her waist. His hand held her firmly, keeping the skirt out of the way, and her ass in harm’s way.

This hadn’t quite what she’d intended when she’d saved him the bother of removing her panties, by not wearing any.

She’d decided to wear nothing under her skirt several hours earlier, because she’d hoped they might go out after the Real Vampire social. She’d planned to walk him to a taxi stand through the nearby cemetery afterwards and suddenly demand to be fucked. That’d be splendidly goth, and it’d disconcert him a little, she was sure. And he’s still rise to the occasion. But there’d happened to be a taxi outside the pub and he’d hailed it.

Anyway, now she was getting that promised spanking, it made no difference; it would have taken him at most a few seconds to pull them down and off.

He took his time, his land landing every ten seconds, not too hard. The heat and the soreness were cumulative things. Both had built up slowly but surely as her spanking continued. She knew that she was colouring for him; he’d said more than once how very prettily red her arse and legs were turning.

He’d have to do this a lot in the future, he’d claimed.  

TTeresa had said nothing, but she thought he was probably right. Not all fantasies turn out well, when realized, but this one was. She yelped suddenly, not because he’d smacked her but because he’d stopped and slid his hand into the damp valley between her buttocks and his fingers into her cunt

Roland wasn’t gentle, but she made a quiet moaning sound, riding his lap as he pleasured her. She made a deeper, louder, moan a few minutes later when the movements of her hips were becoming emphatic and he stopped stroking her and resumed her spanking, a little harder.

This happened twice more, and eventually she knew, objectively, that she was being spanked hard now, but there was not the slightest sense of pain. Only arousal, and the desire that each smack should be followed by another one just like it.

Teresa felt sorry at last. This wasn’t the world Roland came from. And biting him till he bled was an odd thing to do to a lover. She said, “I got carried away. I mean really, I did. I actually don’t even remember doing it. You should take that as a compliment. I mean, as a lover.”

“Maybe. But you still can’t bite me, Teresa. Not like that.”

Teresa was on her knees facing him on the bed, naked, and bouncing a little. Her breasts bounced a lot, she knew. She pouted at him. She knew the effect she was having. Sure enough, his cock, detumesced though he hadn’t yet taken the condom off, seemed to move. Very slightly. A little. Perhaps more.

She said, “So… what would you have done, if I’d asked you to untie me?” 

“I’d have untied you.”

“Goodie! Then I should have thought of it.” She was still being playful, though she knew this was not play. This was a moment that could make or break them.

Roland shook his head, in wonder, not negation. “But if you tried to bite me again I’d have got dressed and gone home.” He took the condom off then, and looked around the room. There was a bin beside the bed. He tossed it. He missed.

She paused, considering what he’d said, and reached out and stroked the underside of his cock. “Um. No, that wouldn’t be good. No, I wouldn’t have wanted that.” 

“You have a lot of lovers who don’t mind you biting them?”

“Actually, I don’t usually let strangers push my skirt up to my waist and then take me home in a taxi. I don’t have a lot of lovers.”

“Oh? Really? Oh. That’s quite flattering.” 

“God, you’re clueless. But, yes, I’ve never known anyone make as much fuss as you.” 

“It’s not fuss. I don’t let people bite me.” 

“Oh, I see. I’m a freaky vampire. And you, you’re never the one who gets done to. You’re the dominant one. You do all the doing.”

“I like you, including you being a vampire. Because I like anything that’s you. I will do damn near anything for you. But I’m afraid that what you said about me, that’s pretty much true. I’m a dom, at least in bed. You know the word?”

“Of course I do.”

“For me, it’s almost impossible not to take charge, at least in sexual contexts. I mean, I like all sex, and I can not-dom. But you seemed to react, um, well when I let some of the dom out. We brought some things out in each other.”

Roland said, “Ah, the creatures of the night, such music they make.” He meant the vocal, enthusiastic racket she’d made while being fucked by a bastard. 

“All right. You’re not a bastard, then. You’re a wanker.” But Teresa meant that with affection, and anyway he seemed to agree with her.

When he’d untied her and they could sit facing each other, she said, “You spanked me.”

She tried to make it sound as if she were making a terrible accusation.

She wondered if she’d managed to keep all trace of appreciation out of her voice.

He said, “You were teasing me. And it moved things along.”

“No. You enjoyed it. Your cock got hard – harder! – when you smacked my arse. You like to spank girls. That’s what you’re into. And you tied me up.”

“I tied your wrists. And I did ask you if you wanted it, first. You wanted. And you’ve got a lovely arse. So, yes, absolutely I enjoyed spanking you. Unless you tell me not to, I’m pretty sure I will again.”

He stopped and waited for her to speak. Teresa said nothing.

She was being asked to give an important kind of consent. It should be a solemn moment. Those smacks on her bottom had felt good. They brought a kind of satisfaction, reaching a part of her that she’d almost given up on. But she wasn’t going to explicitly ask him to spank her. Pride ruled that out. Nor was she going to tell him not to.  As the silence stretched on he looked more serious, and then slightly worried. It was important to him, too. At last she laughed at him, but still said nothing.

He said, “Noted. I’m taking that as consent, unless you tell me otherwise?” He left another pause. Teresa poked him in the stomach. “All right. Consent taken, and you’ll pay for that. But it wasn’t getting spanked that upset you. It was not being able to bite me.” 

“Yeah. I like your blood.”

“I’m sure my blood’s very nice. But I like it inside my skin. It’s tidier.” 

“It’s a brilliant colour. Like passion. And it’s full of life.” 

“Yeah, I can see all that. But you like it … a little more than most. More than you said when you said you weren’t like those other Real Vampires.”

When they sped up, and were fucking hard and deep: that was the moment for Teresa, the emotional and sexual pitch she reached when she would have bitten her male.

But her face was in the pillow, and she couldn’t turn her head far enough, and the cunning bastard had tied her wrists. She shook her head wildly. She wanted to bite him, it was time to bite him, and she couldn’t reach. “Bastard!”  

So Roland pulled out of her nearly all the way, the tip of his cock just outside but touching her lips, and held there. Teresa wailed, dismayed: empty. Then he smacked the side of her bottom. His own body was in the way, and he couldn’t make it as meaty a smack as he probably intended. He withdrew, ignoring the protests she made.

He gave her five more, alternating sides, so that she couldn’t ignore it: Teresa had just been spanked, like Tessa in the book he must have seen beside her bed.

That was interesting. But she needed his cock back. She arched her bottom up and shimmied, to invite him. Demand him. Being spanked might not be Teresa’s central perversity, but she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed it. She was certain, now, that Roland had read about Tessa’s spanking and anal sex in Tessa’s Task and he knew it was her favourite one-handed read. It was something they’d have to talk about. But not now.

She arched her arse up, freshly spanked and no doubt blushing pink, demanding his attention. He took her invitation, and took her. His belly, as they slid together, felt cool against her heated skin. Bygones, she decided, were bygones.

They started the fuck again from the beginning, excruciatingly slow, slowly speeding up. This time, when they got back to the hard fast section, when Teresa was gasping and concentrating, she again started shaking her head from right to left, and she bit on the pillowcase below her face and ripped it. She made no more attempts to turn in her bonds to bite him.

And at last Teresa came, not with her words this time but like a banshee. A happy banshee on a train. When they got their breaths back she said, “Oooh, you bastard.” 

But she knew that didn’t sound convincing. She was too happy.

Teresa knew that this must be what he’d been holding in check, on their first evening together. She grinned. “You’re a pervert. You smack my arse. Now you want to tie me up. My pervy man. But, yeah, I suppose that’s ok.”

Teresa thought of herself, despite her favourite erotica, as a bitey vampire girl, sexually, not a submissive girl. She enjoyed submissive fantasies, but they didn’t define her. Still, she was curious. She’d enjoyed getting her bottom smacked as much as Tessa had, or perhaps more. So it was worth exploring a little further.

Roland pulled the belt out of her non-sexy robe, since she didn’t have bondage ropes in the house. She’d never had her wrists tied to her bedposts, or anywhere else, before. Till now her lovers had been too impressed with her vampirey self to suggest something like that.

She liked Roland’s complete failure to be afraid of her. She rolled onto her front when he asked, and let him hold her wrists.

He knelt on her with his thighs straddling her arse, his cock sometimes touching her, while he set her wrists wide apart, her arms outstretched, before securing them to her bedposts. She had to admit that it felt enjoyably perverse. It was definitely compensation for losing the corset.

Once she was tied, he put two pillows under her hips, and slipped three of his fingers into her cunt, and his thumb in her tight little hole, up to the first knuckle. He stroked her so that she rocked her bottom up and down like a rubber duck in choppy waters. He said, “Beautiful. You look incredibly hot, little vampire girl.”

“And fuckable? You might fuck me, then.”

Roland ignored her and kept stroking her, until Teresa could only make incoherent noises, to demand to be fucked and not fingered. Fucked, right now.

At last she felt his hands on her hips, holding her then sliding down to lift her, raising her arse so he could slide easily into her from behind. She felt him place his knees between hers.

She expelled a breath, hard, when his cock entered, so hard, and so fat.

Teresa said, “About time”, and he said nothing back, but withdrew a little before pushing back into her. They moved very slowly, the vampire girl and her chosen male victim, and deep, and she didn’t notice for a while what was wrong. 

Roland frowned, trying to read her. She was fighting, and inviting, all at once. So he pushed her shoulders down onto the sheet, and wrestled his way between her thighs with force and sometimes cunning. Teresa wriggled, which she believed she did deliciously. It seemed that this was a game he’d never played before, but she was giving him every encouragement to continue.

They wrestled until at last he had her held down on her back, his body above her, held tightly between her thighs, which she’d raised and pressed against his sides, his cock pressing against her cunt.

Teresa grinned fiercely up at him again, as though it was she who’d won, and let her head fall back. She was exposing her throat.

The gesture meant more to her than it seemed it did to him, but it was clear enough. She’d surrendered.  

He kissed her more tenderly than they’d been for the past several minutes, and she was loving in response. So he pressed forward, in possession of her as if she were conquered territory. He moved his cock forward, into her so that the glans was just inside her wet inner skin. He felt so good, so welcome. Teresa closed her eyes, moaned piteously and opened her thighs a little wider. He’d be a ninny if he didn’t know he was wanted.

He pressed forward so that his cock slid deeper into her, filling her sweetly and tightly, and their pubic bones pressed together.

They began to rock, slowly at first, in each others’ arms. Teresa parted her thighs still wider, so he was in complete possession.

Then she raised her knees, almost folding her body in half, and pressed her feet on his arse. His face suddenly seemed anguished. He came in her, she suspected not quite intentionally, about thirty seconds later.

He said, “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry,” but Teresa ignored him. Fortunately he desired her ferociously, and Teresa was skilled at getting him hard again, with hands and mouth, and he needed little recovery time. They were soon lost in each other again, rocking and plunging. She cried out when she came, in nonsense syllables: “Tard! Tard a ben kit toll, tard ah! Tard ah!…” He frowned, surprised, but realised that it wasn’t a distressed sound, and kissed her.

Roland took his wallet from his pants, found a condom and put it on. He joined Teresa and pushed her shoulders back until she was lying full-length on the bed, on her back. He placed his toes towards the bottom end of the bed and took her hands, pushing them back to the mattress, above her head.

She sighed contentedly and lay back, raising her thighs to offer a comfortable place to ride, between pale, plump thighs. “I said fuck me, you.” She frowned. “What was your name again?”

He bit her right nipple. Not for her pleasure, though it felt good. “Roland. And at least I have the decency to know your name’s Teresa.”

She poked her tongue out at him again.

So, his hands holding hers down on the bed, he lowered himself onto her, his body straight like a man doing press-ups, until their faces were centimetres apart. He touched her forehead with his, while they stared into each other’s eyes. She tilted her face up and kissed him. He let his body sink onto hers.

But Teresa felt a perverse urge to make his life more complicated. She’d been too easy, and he seemed to be relying on scripts that had suited him with other women in these moments. She wanted to test him again. Suddenly she put her legs together and rolled out of his way.

She saw the shock in his eyes. Up to that moment she’d been sweetly inviting. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, but he released her hands, and was ready to back away and get off the bed. She grinned at him, the fierce kind of grin, and said, “Vampires don’t fuck mundanes. Not… without a fight, anyway.”

So, Roland learned, the word for people who don’t really care about vampires except for desiring one girl who dressed as a vampire, is mundane. He was a mundane. She hoped he’d also learn that when sex was going well Teresa liked to fight and then lose. He probably wasn’t comfortable with games like that, because his life was easier when consent was clear.

He’d be uncomfortable with clouding it. But he had to deal with the woman he was with: Teresa wasn’t going to be generic.

But the struggle was what she wanted, so long as she lost it, and it seemed to her that what her cunt wanted is more important than what the political purist  might think and say.

She beat at his chest with her fists, like the heroine in some old black-and-white movie. But she was careful not to hit his face or bollocks or anywhere else that mattered. She didn’t want to discourage him.