Chapter 10

Béla was awake. She tried to focus her eyes and failed the first time. She was able to blink, though. That's better than before, when she was so drugged she couldn't even do that.

She itched between her legs. She tried moving her legs to relieve the itching sensation. She felt fluid running down the crack of her ass.

'That bastard fucked me AGAIN while I was unconscious!' she thought, furiously. 'What the hell does he have against free will fucking?'

A large figure suddenly loomed over her. She felt a hot, pricking sensation in the side of her neck, then it was gone.

The figure backed up and came into focus. It looked like Bram, but somehow much younger.

"Ah! You're awake, I see," he said, cheerfully.

He held up what he had stuck into her neck.

"Hypodermic needle!" he explained. "It's so much more hygienic than sucking blood directly from your arteries. And so much of that gets wasted during the digestive process, don't you think?"

As he stuck the needle into his arm, he said, "Also, this is much more powerful a stimulant if pumped directly into my veins. There's nothing wasted, you see."

As she watched, he turned visibly younger in just a few seconds.

'So that's how it's done!' she realized for the first time. 'That's why Jake was still alive after that fall! He drank my blood! It didn't need to be my 'heart's blood'.'

"Fuck..." she managed to say.

"What?" he inquired. "You seem to be recovering faster than I thought. You've only been asleep for two days. But, it's your own greedy fault. I didn't intend for you to drink that much wine. However, as much as I'd love to, making love to you now is simply out of the question. You'd recover much too quickly for me to make my escape."

He saw her eyes widen slightly at his words.

"Of course I'm going to let you go," he said, presuming he understood her question. "Did you think I was going to kill you? I made that mistake seven hundred years ago. To do it again would be like killing the Golden Goose, don't you agree?

"Please," he continued, acting very foppish, "consider that you are a wild eagle that I have captured. I simply want a single feather from your wing so that I may fly as you do. When I have my feather, you will be released, unharmed, back into the wild.

"An eloquent description, don't you think?" he asked her, almost laughing.

"Oh, dear," he said, sniffing the air. Pulling back the light blanket that covered her, he continued, "You seem to have messed yourself. I supposed that's one of the problems of being paralyzed; not being able to control your bodily functions."

He deftly pulled the bedsheets off the side of the bed she wasn't lying on and laid out several towels over the mattress. As he rolled her over on top of them, she could feel that they were cold and wet against her bare skin. He pulled the rest of the bedsheets off the side of the bed she had occupied.

"Bath time, Hethemtima, my little Fountain of Youth," he said, cheerfully.

He began cleaning between her legs, using up one damp towel at a time. Béla noticed that, for the first time in her entire, long life, someone was handling her pussy and she wasn't getting horny.

"Well," he said as he cleaned her up, "There seems to be more than one difference between you and My Spanish Lady besides your sanity. She didn't have a monthly cycle and you, apparently, do. How very interesting. Do you know how beautiful your labia is, outlined by that deliciously dark blood?"

He cheerfully continued cleaning her up, chattering away, not noticing the flood of tears that suddenly began streaming down her face.