It was the only room he knew. The cold gray stonewalls and the empty fire place always made the hair on his neck rise when he awoke.
There were whispers he would hear within the stones that frightened him, unexplainable. The bed in which he slept was silk and velvet, made of deep wine reds. It made him shiver with undeniable fear, the color of the bed was blood. There was also a huge fireplace across the room, though the fire was rarely lit, it was there empty. It reminded him of the cold which seemed never to disappear, or only in the evenings when she came. Beautiful Angelina…
Years passed in his cell, years where his skin seemed to shimmer with the lack of sun, and like the diamonds in caves he glittered in the light. His perfect black hair grew without tending. It was never touched by sheers, at least not since he had left his Catholic school. Eyes that had once held a touch of blue were now utterly black, and a face that rarely smiled seemed to hold that heroic handsome touch. He spent most of his time with his swords. It seemed Angelina brought him a new blade everyday. “Something for your collection I suppose.” Is all she would say, and they would walk together to the south wing, which was the place she had given him for his study in the art.
On his 18th birthday Angelina had finally given him a name. It was odd, because he had not had a name since he was raised by the nuns. She called him Daemion. “You are special child, you deserve a name that suits you.” They went through a ceremony which Daemion can’t all remember, but what he does remember haunts him in his sleep.
‘She danced around him with her hair wild, like black snakes in the air. Slashing his clothing with daggers, and sometimes his skin would tare. Blood seemed to drip down his body and mingle with the sweat, which had perspired in the hot spicy herb filled air. She had drawn him close and kissed his lips. With the palms of her hands on his chest, she had pressed her body fervently to his, and only by pressing her leg between his had he returned her kiss.
His shirt was torn about him, the white material soaked in red, and her exposed shoulders had been smeared in his blood. The blood turned him on, not his own, but when she had drawn the blade across her collar bone, he had moaned at it’s sight.’
Yes, every evening, when the sun had just casted shadows across the scenery of forest green pines, and snow, Angelina would come. With her teeth she would chose a spot on his body and bite. Blood would trickle, and she would collect it in a glass vile, which she wore around her neck. Daemion never understood this, but he couldn’t argue, she had been doing it since he was a boy. Though, as he grew up, or since his eightieth, he had to admit, there was something different about it.
‘His dick rose hard against his black pants, and Angelina dug her nails deep into his chest, creating a kind of animal mark. She pulled his head close to her blood, and let him lick it clean of her perfect porcelain skin. He clenched his teeth when she pulled him away, and took the knife from her. Angelina’s eyebrows rose in challenge. “Cut me if you dare child.” He dropped the knife and kissed her with such ferocity that she melted, and he rushed her against the wall. She spread her legs and let him do what he wanted for that moment, but he let her go and she would have fallen had she not caught him by the shoulders and pulled him down on top of her.
“You are different Daemion, where any man would have raped me, you let me go. I will give myself freely to you one day, this I know…but not today.” And Angelina had gotten up, brushed herself off, and walked out the door, leaving him bloody, hard, and torn. He fell asleep, and awoke in bed that night perfectly dressed, no signs of scratches, and clean. He remembered nothing, and dozed off.’
He dreamed this dream time and again, not realizing it was real, and forgetting it soon after waking, but today was different.
“Angelina, I…” He tried to speak as she undid his shirt. She looked at him, and with her eyes told him to stop. He did, but when her teeth pierced the flesh on his soft stomach, he could feel his dick grow hard. The red made his eyes blur, and she looked up at him questioningly.
“You’ve never done this before now Daemion. Never interrupted me, and then bore your manhood.” He blushed. How rarely embarrassed he got, why now? She laughed at him, and stood up next to the bed. His eyes closed, he did not want to see her. That hourglass figure, corset brought breast so taunting to rise above the line of her black-laced dress. She smiled at him, and took his arm. He wouldn’t open his eyes, no, when I open them she will be gone. She took his arm and put his hand on something warm. When he opened his eyes, she was still there, and his hand was on her breast. He drew his breath in rapidly, and closed his eyes again. When he opened them, she was gone.