Eternal Night

(III) Chapter 9: Decadence

Francesca sighed as she slowly lowered herself with shaking arms into the bathtub, the scorching heat excruciating yet simultaneously heavenly as she sank down into the water. There was a jet at her back and two more on either side of her, sending the water to churn and bubble around her trembling limbs. She leaned back against the wall of the tub with great care, resting her nape just on the edge before allowing the remainder of her body to fully submerge and then completely relax.

It was a miracle she was still conscious, although given what she had just endured, she had no doubt that when she did finally get around to sleeping, it would be deep and restful.

Her body ached in all the right places, her sex deliciously sore, bum still stinging a bit, and her limbs noodle-like with the occasional spasm or tremor reminding her that they were even there at all – all of which proved rather impressive, considering her preternatural healing abilities. But those lingering bodily discomforts were a small price to pay for what was still faintly rippling through her.

That last orgasm had broken her.

She hadn't expected it, for him to work her up so damn high, so thoroughly. Being handcuffed to the headboard had only served to make her more excited and when she had told Dracula not to hold back, he had taken her at her word.

He hadn't restrained himself.

Not even a little.

And she would never be the same.

She had kept waiting for her blood-rage to manifest itself, that insidious dark passenger that had plagued her for the last two centuries, praying it wouldn't come to claim her as she abandoned all control – and to her eternal disbelief, it hadn't.

Through the spanking and the edging and the fucking and all that glorious dirty talk in between, Frankie had remained wholly her own throughout, and the realization of it, the freedom, coupled with the earth-shattering, mind-numbing release... it had been too much.

A full and complete sensory overload.

She had shattered as the climax shredded her nerves to ribbons and then she had wept, a deep, cleansing sob of relief and unadulterated joy. Not once did Vladislaus judge or condemn her as she bawled. If anything, it made his aftercare even more tender, which only served to shatter her anew. But he was there to put her back together, and for as long as she lived, Francesca would forever treasure the things he had whispered to her in his native tongue as he brought her back down, the gentle reverence of his touch as he soothed her, consoled her... and then carried her into the bathroom.

He had left her for a few minutes – though with great reluctance – but only because he had intended to strip the bed and change the linens, declaring that he had no desire to sleep in wet sheets – as much as he had enjoyed making them thus. Frankie smiled at the thought, her eyes flittering shut for just a moment, a wave of contentedness washing over her. She never wanted to leave this apartment... at least not for a good long while.

She could certainly get used to this, though– the decadence of nothing but sex and blood, of the slick glide of flesh, the delicious stings of pain, the duet of their mutual pleasure.

But they both understood that time was limited, which was why they were still up, in spite of the hour and the exhaustion, that growing need for respite. It was a miracle they were in completely different rooms right now. Naturally, it didn't last long, and as promised, Dracula returned. She had felt his entrance into the bathroom long before she heard it.

Frankie only opened her eyes when she heard the plop and fizz of something being dropped into the water by her feet and she discovered what appeared to be a bath bomb frothing near the surface. It was turning the water a deep shade of red.