“I am yours.”

As he repeated the words to me without being asked to, and close to the correct pronunciation I felt my heart beat proudly. He had done well, and responded as the best lover might to the pain I had instilled. He had healing and I had already tested that limit by drinking the most amount of blood I had in some time. The taste of his meaty, almost smokey blood still flavoured my mouth, with the coppery highlights. Softly I leant forwards and cupped his jaw, tilting his head upwards.

“My gerlari,” I said to him. Soldier. I don't know why, for some reason it was fitting him. “I am proud of you.”

Then I kissed him proper, sliding my tongue across his lower lip. He moaned and his mouth slipped open, and his own tongue darted out to meet mine.

Slowly then I kneeled before him, moving my hand with a stroking motion from his jaw to his shoulder. My other hand lowered until I could properly grasp his manhood, strong and tight. I smiled gently as I held it steadily, my hand not moving, watching his trembling anticipation before I grinned.

“Shall I go on?” I whispered.

He groaned. Loud, his body trembling. But he didn't move, his hips remaining immobile. Like he thought that my not moving meant he could not. “Wha-whatever you want me to. Here and now, I am yours, Vixen.” His voice was a low roll, deep and throaty. His silver eyes were trained on mine, staring into them intently.

“Yes you are,” I said powerful as I began to rub. “You are.” Slowly I reached behind me and found the knife again. “You are.”

I bit my lip, and leant forwards to kiss him as I gently began to massage. I kept the kiss long and lingering, letting his lips taste my flesh more pure than he had when he had when he was gagged. It was sure, firm and beautiful and I pressed close without any other meanderings as I gave him the gift of my hands.

That was until I brought the knife to his chest and literally began to carve my name into his chest.

His eyes, which had drifted closed as I kissed him deeply, shot open wide. There was - pain in them as he let out a groan against my lips, a drawn out, shuddering thing. It was a pained noise, but he didn't pull away from the bite of the knife. “T-The scars will f-f-fade in a few days.” His voice was soft, and a bit choked. Good. So he did actually feel pain.

I nodded solemnly as I pressed deeper into his flesh with the blade. “They might. Yes.”

Then I smiled as I lowered my mouth to suit my jaws around his manhood. Swiftly I ran my tongue up and down his member, my eyes falling closed and my voice lowering into a hum. With my tongue I aimed to pleasure him and with my knife I aimed to pain him. I carved the country of my birth in him before he groaned loudly.