Blood Pet

Kidnapped by a psychotic vampire, 22-year-old Jessica Smith doesn't really think things could get any worse until she becomes a pawn in a vampire plot to take over the world. As war breaks out between the vampires and humans resisting them and the world begins to quickly fall to the undead, Jessica finds herself warring with herself and questioning the true intentions of the vampire who took her in the first place. With everyone she can't trust telling her things about him that make no sense and unable to trust his words either; she really has no idea who to believe in this dark world that she is now very much a part of. As time goes on, Jessica finds it harder to decide who to trust and who not to trust. But more important than that, she finds herself questioning her feelings towards the one person that she knows she shouldn't trust or love


4. Chapter Three

Once I was sure that the asshole was completely upstairs; the only sign of that was the creaking of the floor boards above me as he walked away from the basement door, I immediately began thinking all these nasty thoughts about him.

First of all, this guy had some serious issues. Right after I thought it, I changed my mind; no, he didn't just have issues, he was fucking psychotic. I mean, what the hell kind of sick fuck did these kinds of things? No normal person kidnapped people, marked them and threatened them with medieval torture devices.

Second of all, he had this crazy idea that he was better than everyone else and wandered around acting like he was the best thing since sliced bread or some shit like that. As if he was some God and deserved to be bowed down to and worshiped for his "greatness". The thought was laughable at best.

Third of all, he had this delusional idea that he was going to get me to bend to his will at some point. I was not one for following orders; especially ones that came from a big-headed moron such as him. And, if he thought that he could get me to be his docile little slave like Cindy appeared to be… well, he had another think coming since I had no intention of ever giving in to the bastard; I would rather die than give in to him. He would learn that eventually; at least I hoped he was smart enough to do so.

I continued to sit there stewing in my own hatred of the bastard for God only knows how long. It was dark since he hadn't been nice enough to remove the stupid hood before he left and when one is left in complete darkness, it's hard to tell the amount of time that actually passes.

My shoulder still throbbed with a small amount of pain from that stupid tattoo the bastard had had one of his little minions apply on me; the pain was in sync with the throbbing of my broken index finger.

I was so lost in my thoughts and muttering to myself about how much I hated the bastard that I didn't hear the basement door open or the light switch turn back on. I didn't even know he was down here with me until I felt eyes on me; intensely staring at me. It made me uncomfortable, but I wasn't about to do anything to let him know that.

"Are you going to say something or just stand there and stare at me all day long?" I asked, annoyed that he had been standing there for at least five minutes doing nothing but staring at me.

"What's the matter, Jessica? Don't like people to stare at you the way I'm doing?" his amusement was evident in his voice.

I scoffed, "No, I usually don't mind that, but you're an exception since you see me as an object that you can claim as yours and not as a human being. There's a difference, you know."

"You're in my world now, Jessica and here, humans are seen as objects that serve only two purposes; either as pets or food. You should be thankful that I'm keeping you as the former."

I snorted, "I've told you before, asshole, I'd rather be dead than here right now."

"And I've told you that I have no intentions of killing you any time soon," he said, "Now, I didn't come down here to discuss these things. I have important matters to attend to so I just want to know if you're ready to talk now, sweetheart?"

"No! And stop fucking calling me that, asshole!" I ordered, "I am not your sweetheart." I would have glared at him, but the damn hood was still over my head.

"Keep in mind that I am still counting the number of times that you use the word, Jessica. I heard you use them earlier too, so the number is now seventeen. I hope for your sake, you don't make it go any higher than that."

He suddenly grabbed my right hand (the one with the broken finger) tightly in his cold one. I winced at the sudden pain that shot up from the broken finger as he purposely touched it, and I was actually glad that the hood was still covering my face so he couldn't see it. I should have known he was going to do more than that; I felt a sharp tug on that broken finger which only intensified the pain that was already present.

"You know, I wouldn't have to do this, if you would just tell me what I want to know," he explained, "I hate causing you pain, sweetheart, but you must learn who is boss around here."

I snorted, "Yea right… I know you get some sick pleasure out of this, asshole. You're some kind of fucking sadist and you make me sick."

He chuckled, "Yea, I suppose you're right, I am a sadist; I enjoy causing others pain." he agreed as he grabbed my middle finger and began pulling it in the same way he had done with my index finger earlier. I waited for the pain to come that would momentarily blind me before my body got used to it, but it didn't which was a surprise. "Oh, and by the way, we're on number eighteen for the official count"

It took me a minute to realize what he was talking about and right when I did realize it, he had yanked hard on my middle finger and successfully broken that one too; searing pain ran up my arm from my hand again and it took all my willpower not to scream at the sudden action. I had let my guard down for one second and he had completely taken advantage of it. Asshole.

"I'll be back down in a little while to see if you've changed your mind yet." he said.

"That's not likely to happen."

"We'll see how long it takes you to crack, Jessica. Everyone has their breaking point; it's just a matter of how long it takes to get to it. And, believe me; I will get to it at some point. You can't keep this secret from me forever without causing yourself a whole lot of pain." he threatened, "Like I said, I'll be down soon to see if you've changed your mind; if not, well, I'll guess we'll just have to continue with this until you do break."

He patted my hand, paying particular attention to the two broken fingers. I heard the sound of rustling clothes as he stood up from his crouched position in front of me. He didn't say another word to me as he made his way over to the stairs; his footsteps were loud in my ears. I heard the light switch turn off as he climbed the stairs. I was soon left alone again with only my thoughts and now two throbbing fingers.

The next two times he came down, were pretty similar. He asked if I was ready to talk and when I refused, he broke another finger and then left me alone again. So, by the fourth time he had come downstairs, all the fingers on my right hand had been broken, except for my thumb. Which I knew would hurt the most when he returned and I refused to talk.

I must have dozed off after the forth time he had visited me because when I opened my eyes; the hood had been removed from my head and I was staring up at the bastard who had broken four of the fingers on my right hand; more like glaring at him really.

He just smirked, "It's about time you woke up." Those words made me think that he had been watching me sleep for awhile… creepy asshole.

I blinked up at him, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. I glanced down at my hand, which look extremely odd since all of my fingers were broken and sitting at odd angles compared to my hand. The sight made me a little nauseous, but I wasn't about to let him know that.

"I've decided that breaking small bones isn't leading to much of anything. I think I'm going to have to change my methods up a little bit." he smiled evilly as he freed my right arm from the strap and squeezed it tightly in his hands, "with a simple flick, I can break your wrist." he twisted a little just to prove his point, "Now, will I have to break your wrist for the information I'm seeking, or will you finally be a good girl and tell me what I want to know?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid! If I told you what my secret is, you wouldn't hesitate to use it against me!" I explained, "You can tell me you're not going to do so, but your word means absolutely nothing to me. Plus, you've given me no fucking reason to believe any word that comes out of your mouth."

He sighed, "Very well then… I guess you give me no choice then."

He began twisting my wrist painfully slow; elongating the pain.

"No! Wait!"

He paused, staring at me with one eyebrow arched questionably.

This was stupid. My mom always told me to pick my battles. My secret wasn't worth all of this. Sure, he could really use it against me, but since he had no intentions of killing me, he couldn't use it all that much. Plus, I really had to go to the bathroom and if I didn't eat something soon, I was afraid I was going to die from hunger. During my internal ramblings, he had gone back to twisting my wrist.

"Stop it! I'll fucking tell you, alright? Just let go of my wrist and I'll tell you!"

He didn't let go of my wrist like I had asked, he merely stopped twisting it.

"I said let go of my wrist!" I ordered, trying to yank my hand from his grasp, which was a bad idea though since my fingers were all still broken and throbbed painfully when I did so; though, that was more due to that fact that he grabbed onto them more tightly, squeezing them painfully in his grasp.

"I will let go of your wrist once you tell me what I want to know and I can confirm that it's the truth."

"And, I will tell you what you want to know once you let go of my wrist and promise that you'll untie me from this stupid chair and let me use the damn bathroom after I tell you. Because, to be honest, that's the only reason I'm giving the information to you at all. If I didn't have to go so badly, I wouldn't even bother."

"I'm not quite sure if you deserve to use the bathroom quite yet. Maybe if you ask nicely and refer to me by my proper title, I'll reconsider."

I glared at him.

"Well, you obviously don't have to go badly enough. So, the answer is 'no'. You'll just have to hold it until you can give me the respect that I want and deserve."

"Fine, jackass… may I please go to the bathroom?"

"That is not what I meant."

"Well, it's all you're getting, asshole."

"Besides, I wouldn't let you go until you told me what I wanted to know first."

I stared at him for a few seconds; thinking about how much I wanted to smack him before I finally relented, "Fine, when I was a child, my family and I went on trip to a lake that wasn't too far from my house; my dad had taken me out fishing and I fell out of the boat and nearly drowned since I didn't know how to swim. Ever since then, I've been afraid of drowning or having my lungs restricted in any way." I was extremely pissed that I had to admit this, but I really did have to go to the bathroom and I didn't want any more of my limbs to be broken over it; four broken fingers was more than enough. "And, I swear to God, if you ever use my secret against me, I will fucking kill you the second I get the chance."

He snorted, "I don't think you're in any position to be threatening me, Jessica," he nodded at my restraints, smiling maliciously, "However, since you finally did what I wanted, I suppose I can promise not to use it against you for a couple of weeks; maybe a month or two."

I snorted, "I'll believe that when it actually happens, asshole."

He ignored me, "Aren't you glad you told me? Now, the pain can finally stop…at least, for now," he said "Why must you make everything so difficult?"

"It's against my religion to make things easy for assholes like you." I explained, "Can I be untied now so I can go to the bathroom now?" I asked.

"I don't know… I'm not quite sure you deserve it."

"Fine then; I'll just go right here. Though, I'm not the one that's going to have to deal with the smell as much because you're a vampire, you have such a stronger sense of smell than I do, right? Sucks to be you!" I snorted at the last phrase before adding, "No pun intended of course."

He glared at me, "I will allow you this one privilege if you refer to me by my proper title."

I didn't really like the idea of going to the bathroom where I sat. It sounded kind of gross to be honest. "Fine, may I please be excused to use the bathroom, Sir?" I spat, glaring at him. "There, happy now?"

"It's a start." he noted as he began untying my other hand from the chair, once it was free, I immediately stood up and tried to get as far away from him as I could get. Though, that was made impossible when he grabbed hold of my wrist and dragged me across the room to a door I hadn't seen earlier. I wasn't very happy about being dragged around, but my wrist was far better than my hair.

He pushed the door open with his free hand and shoved me inside, "You have five minutes. If you're not out by then, I'm coming in."

He then slammed the door in my face, which I found rather rude, but I was just happy to be away from him and able to use the damn bathroom in private to really care. The bathroom was really nothing special; it was small with a toilet, shower and a small sink in the corner.

As I did my business, I studied my right hand; I was disgusted at how my fingers looked so deformed now and wondered how the hell they were going to heal to look relatively normal. I had a feeling that that was not going to happen.

I tried several times to wash my hands, but it was way too painful, so I eventually gave up on trying to be hygienic in light of the fact that it was a bit too painful to do so, which was disgusting, but I really had no choice.

He was banging on the door at this point, yelling at me to hurry up.

"Oh shut up! I'm almost done." I yelled at him through the door, only two seconds before I opened it to find him standing there about ready to knock again, looking really pissed.

He glared at me, "Took you long enough."

"I'm a girl. We tend to take longer in the bathroom. You would know that, if you actually had any females in your life."

He yanked hard on my broken fingers, "Ow!" I screeched, "You bastard! Don't get pissed at me for admitting the truth. If you weren't such a sadistic ass maybe girls would actually want to be around you."

He continued to glare at me as he pulled me, luckily by my left wrist back to the chair and shoved me not so gently into it. I didn't expect him to strap me to it again and so when he began that I started struggling and trying to hit him in any way that I could. My attempts were futile since he had me strapped down once again to that cold as ice chair faster than I could get any good punches in, "What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, as I attempted to not freeze my ass off on the damn chair; I had only been off of it for five minutes at most and it already was freezing cold again.

"Well, you can't be of much use to me with four fingers on that hand broken, now can you?" he asked, smirking at me.

"Why the hell did you break them then, moron?" I asked.

He shrugged, "I had to get you to break somehow, didn't I?" he asked.

If I hadn't been strapped down I totally would have smacked him just so that know-it-all look would be knocked off his perfect face.

"If you think I'm broken, than you have another think coming, you ass." I said, "I'm not so easily broken, you know."

"I can see that, sweetheart," he smirked when he saw my look of anger at the use of the term of endearment, "but I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, I just have to figure out how to fix your poor little fingers… hmm…" he paused, a finger to his chin in mock thought, "I know just the thing to fix you right up." he grinned evilly and I knew I wasn't going to like what he had planned.

And, I was totally right.

"There's only one way to fix those fingers to be as good as new."

I watched him, horrified as his fangs elongated and he slowly bit into his wrist; he did so without taking his eyes off me. I had a very good idea where this was going.

"Open wide, sweetheart." he spoke with a slight lisp due to the fangs protruding from the top of his mouth.

"Oh, hell no!" I screeched as he brought the bloodied wrist closer to my mouth which I had every intention of keeping firmly closed.

I jerked my head away, but all he did was use his free hand to move my head and keep it facing forward. His wrist made contact with my mouth and I could feel the thick, metallic liquid touching my lips, which were firmly shut. I tried not to vomit at the feel of the thick liquid so close to my mouth and nose.

"Come on, now… be a good girl and open your mouth for me." he coaxed, pushing a little harder on my closed lips. Ha… as if that would get me to open my mouth for him. After a few seconds, he relented, but I knew he wasn't done with trying to get me to open my mouth. Not two seconds later, he was pinching my nose tightly shut, "Let's see how long you last, sweetheart. You're going to have to open your mouth sooner or later."

I glared at him; thinking all sorts of mean thoughts at him in hopes that he would hear them. They didn't faze him at all. He just smirked at my antics and squeezed my nose tighter, so tight that I thought he might break it if he wasn't careful.

Fucking bastard had broken his promise not to use my damn secret against me; not that I was surprised, but it was still annoying. I attempted to jerk my head away from him, but that didn't do much of anything; it just seemed to make him angrier and his hold on my nose tighter and shove his wrist harder up against my mouth.

After just a few seconds, my lungs felt like they were on fire due to the lack of oxygen, but I wasn't about to open my mouth and let that nasty stuff in.

"Damnit, stupid girl, why the hell must you be so damn stubborn?" he growled when he realized that I had no intentions of opening my mouth for him. "Guess you give me no choice then…" he trailed off and I was left wondering what the hell he was talking about, but I didn't have to wait long. Blinding pain shot up from my index finger and I realized the bastard had pulled on it. I knew why he had done it though and I refused to scream out in pain so he could get me drink his nasty blood.

He muttered something in a language that I didn't understand; it was probably a curse word judging by how angry it sounded. It was time for his next idea which involved him trying to pry my mouth open with his free hand. His grip on my chin was rough and tight and I had a feeling that I would have bruises later. He pulled and yanked on my chin and while I tried extremely hard to keep my mouth shut, he was just too strong to really fight against for a long time.

When I finally relented, I heard a muttered, "Good girl" from him; at the same time I got my first taste of his blood which was thicker and not nearly as gross as I expected it to be. I felt it flow slowly and thickly down my throat and as it did so I felt an excruciating pain from my right hand, but his grip on my head prevented me from looking down to see what was causing the pain.

"No," he ordered, voice strained and barely above a whisper, "Keep your eyes on me, Jessica." with his hand he forced my head to look up at him; he looked like he was enjoying this way too much and not in that way either. One quick glance downward was proof enough of how much he was liking this; it made me sick to see such a sight. And, it made me even more disgusted when I realized that I was starting to like it too; his blood was no longer a nasty metallic taste; it was now one that tasted of power and strength and one that I wanted more of. If I hadn't been strapped down, I would have grabbed his arm and forced his wrist closer to my mouth, but as it were, I just choose to shove my face as close to his wrist as I could get it.

I moaned in disappointment when he suddenly shoved me away from him, swiping his tongue over his wrist to heal the wound. "That's enough for now, Jessica. If you're a good girl, I'll give you more. And, I know that that's what you want really badly, isn't it?"

"No" I lied.

He smirked, "You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth. Your body betrays you; your cheeks are flushed, among other things." he glanced pointedly down at my crotch. As a vampire, he could probably smell my arousal; not to mention, he could probably hear my heart beating faster as well.

I jerked my legs closed, embarrassed at the obvious arousal I felt at feeding from the bastard. I don't know what was more disgusting, the fact that I had enjoyed that or the fact that he had. I shivered slightly; I think they were both equally gross.

I glanced down at my right hand to see that my fingers were completely healed; there was no sign that they had ever been broken either. I stared in awe as I bent them and there was no pain.

He chuckled, "My blood, along with my saliva, have healing properties that allow for the healing of any wound, scratch, burn or in this case, broken bones to be fixed without a problem. This means, I can pretty much do whatever the hell I want with you because if I hurt you, I can just feed you my blood and it's all better."

"I'd rather die than have any more of your nasty blood in my mouth!"

"You can keep lying to yourself; telling yourself that you didn't enjoy what has just happened here, but you and I both know the truth, don't we?" he smirked, "I know you liked it and I can already see that you are starting to break a little around the edges. I will have you being the perfect little pet soon enough."

"You might have won this battle, asshole, but you haven't won the war. Not by a long shot." I said, trying not to gag over the smell and taste of his blood that was still heavy in my mouth. Now that my senses had cleared, the taste and smell weren't as good as I remembered them being.

"We'll just see about that, won't we?" he replied, "Remember, Jessica, you still have your punishment for using that disgusting word, which you used a total of twenty three times. Not to mention, there is still the punishment for not referring to me by my proper title at all times too. You have a very long day ahead of you."

"Bring it on, asshole." I spat.

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