Chapter 4

Lauren

I can’t believe she didn’t beg for release. She’s tougher than I thought. I was sure she was going to scream for relief within a minute of me bringing her endorphin levels up, which is what I’m expecting she will be doing when I come back in a few hours.

For her to be screaming, retching and begging. The thought drives me mad, if only I could stay and continue my torture. In a way I still am with my venom coursing through her veins, but it’s not the same, not when I can’t feel the strings of pleasure I am plucking with my own fingers.

“Miss Davids.”

I roll my eyes, annoyed at the person who has called me into the office on a weekend when I specifically said no interruptions.

“What is it?” I bark as I turn to him.

The fear that I’ve always been able to instill in people appears on his face.

“I-I’m” he stutters, causing me to roll my eyes once more. “The deal was rejected.”

“What?” I nearly screamed.

The middle aged man crumpled into himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Mr Turner refused to sign. He said he would never sign over his company shares to a monster.”

If it was a monster he wanted me to be then a monster I will become if he refuses me again.

“Schedule a meeting with him for tomorrow, I don’t care what time, but make sure he is present.”

I felt my body wanting to transform, to release my disguise and show my true self, my cursed self.

I stormed from the room, not allowing my assistant to see the strain I was in and the amount of pain that caused me to refuse my change. Normally it wasn’t too difficult for me to keep up my human form, but anger always seemed to break through the control I had.

The last time I had lost control, I had to kill all the witnesses and as psychopathic as I am, having the inability to feel guilt, I just can’t be bothered going through the effort of tracking down every onlooker and killing them again.

By the time I arrived at my Porsche my anger had somewhat smoldered away, but not completely.

I drove home speedily, faster than the speed limit that I didn’t even remotely care about. When I walked through the door, my maid Stephany came to me and asked if she could be of any assistance, but I was in no mood to be polite or really acknowledge anyones existence, so I threw my outer coat in her direction and stormed past her.

My staff knew not to bother me in such a time, and they certainly knew not to tell anyone what they saw, especially of my true form.

I practically flew down the long hallways to my room. I was anticipating an answer and I couldn’t handle one more thing going wrong for me right now, I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself.

I pushed open the door with more force than I intended because they swing open and hit their mounted walls.

Whimpering draws my attention to the poor defenseless creatures on the bed.

As I approach her, as an animal approaching their prey her head turns to me

“Please,” she cries, tears escaping the corners of her vibrant hazel eyes. “Make it st-stop.”

I pause watching her squirm for a little longer. Did I just hear her right? She wants me to stop this but she doesn’t want to release?

“Make it stop? Are you not enjoying this?”

She shakes her head, causing more tears to roll down the sides of her cheeks.

This girl has been denied a release from her agonising pleasure for hours. She should be begging not crying.

Maybe I have misjudged this girl and causing her with this amount of strain was the wrong move to begin with.

“Please,” she screams, clawing at the blankets like they were her life.

I wasn’t expecting this, I was expecting her to give in to not give up. I approach the bed, taking her face in my hands. She looked so pained and vulnerable, it would have made me feel bad had I been able to feel any other emotion other than anger and lust.

“Give in and I will make it stop.”

She pushes her face in between my hands, like she was saying no. Her eyelids fall shut scrunching and wrinkling as she winces in the agony of her pleasure.

I wanted to make her learn that she wasn’t going to disobey me, but a part of me knew that I was taking my anger out on her and that if I continued to leave her under this amount of torture, she would never accept me.

I lean in letting my lips touch her soft, tear wet ones. She plunges from consciousness, falling limp on the mattress, her body instantly relaxing from the amount of built up frustration in her muscles.

Her body is covered in droplets of sweat, not to mention her months old pajama pants and t-shirts had seen better days.

I pull her small frame into my body, picking her up as I did yesterday to place her back on her bunk. I ease her body down into the bathtub, opening the tap to a suitable temperature for humans.

I peel the clothes of her body and expose her malnourished skin underneath. I was weak to have left her in a cell for an entire month because now she can barely even walk on her weakened frame. It will take weeks for her to gain her strength again.

I wash her quickly and lay her back gently on the bed and fall next to her. Did I need to sleep? No, I just had to relax enough so the rest of my anger can boil away and to dig through my thoughts.

What is it about this girl that draws me in so much? Never have I felt anything towards somebody as I have for her. I wouldn’t call it love, definitely not, I’m too heartless for something so trivial, but fascination and desire especially desire is better suited to the situation.

I watch as she rolls underneath the covers, lazily turning her thin frame in order to get comfortable. Then she does the thing that takes my breath away, she throws her arms around my waist and pulls her naked body flush against my side with her head resting against my chest.

Her body warmth presses through my shirt and begins to calm me down. The only thing I can see with her in my arms is the pain expression she had before I had put her out of her misery.

Why is it bothering me? I have done worse to others, torturing this girl with denied pleasure is hardly the worst thing I’ve done this week alone. Besides, she was the one that agreed to the deal knowing that I was going to try with everything, she should have expected it. But her tear streaked face just doesn’t leave my mind.

I wrap my arms around her trying to seek forgiveness in the hold. My eyes trail down her thin, youthful face before landing on the two puncture wounds on her neck.

Her blood was sweet, and I could practically taste the amount of pleasure it held. But looking at the two scabs now didn’t help with the remorse.

Her steady breathing and soft heartbeat must have pulled on my tiredness, because shortly after I heard her soft snoring my eyes fell shut.

“Elizabeth Backshall,” came the old screechy voice of the witch that would occasionally enter my dreams. “Or as you go by now, Lauren David.”

“What do you want?” I scream at her. A hundred years of being cursed by this woman, hasn’t dulled the amount of animosity I had for her.

She tsks, before continuing with her invasion of my thoughts. “My child, I have only come to deliver a message to you.”

“Unless it is an apology for cursing you when your father was the one that was truly the object of your rage, then I don’t want it.”

“You would have been the object of my rage whether I cursed your father or not, but we are now destined to hurt each other more because you cannot die. A shame really, I didn’t consider my own suffering of your living when granting you immortality.”

“I’m sorry my existence offends, but I would've been so happy to have you leave me alone,” I spit mockingly with sarcasm.

“Very well, but before I go, your message.”

“If it gets you out of my mind then fine,” I replied annoyed.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke once more, sounding more amused than her previous state of anger and annoyance.

“What you desire most will reject you, will not bow to you and will only anger you, but above all may even free you.”

My step mother has finally lost her mind. What kind of a message is that? Where’s the torment? The snap back? The “your existence is the bane of mine”?

Why did my father have to go cheating on a witch? A witch that not only felt enjoyment in cursing me, but killing my mother slowly and painfully. And now she is bracing me with her crypticness.

“Have a nice night sweetheart,” she says innocently before leaving my subconscious.

Even though I am now fully awake and aware of my surroundings, especially of the soft creature curled in my arms, her words still stick with me.

What you desire most will reject you, will not bow to you and will only anger you, but above all may even free you.