Chapter Text
After the dreadful time when we had thought Carmilla entirely missing from the shloss, I was so tired and unwell that my father began to be seriously concerned with my health. Carmilla was waiting in the doorway to attend me upon his departure from my bedside, and at the suggestion of the doctor's coming, a shadow fell across her face.
When my father left to attend to his business, she came forward and sat, not on the chair he had left behind, but on the side of the bed. "Poor Laura," she said, putting her warm hand upon my forehead and caressing me. "Are you so very ill?"
"Oh, do not worry over my condition," I begged her with a wan smile. "I am sure I shall recover in time — certainly before your mother returns."
For some reason, my mention of her mother seemed to unsettle her even more than my father's mention of the doctor, and she drew back, staring at me with those large eyes.
"Yes," she said at last. "Well, my mother has an interest in your condition."
"How very kind of her," I said, and would have continued, but I was suddenly beset by fatigue and had to sink back against the pillows. Camilla's face went very still as I lay there, dizzy and weak, and she seemed perplexed at something, though I could hardly say what. Then she stood and departed the room abruptly, before I could say anything, and I could hear her pacing in the corridor; then she returned, and looked as if she would speak; then she left again, wringing her hands in an agitated manner, before coming back in and standing before me with her fists clenched.
It would be too taxing to detail every nuance of the conversations in which Carmilla explained her role in my illness, apologized for it, said that she had never felt so before, and convinced me of her intentions; it must suffice to say that after a moment of doubt and fear, I gradually began to believe her, and finally consented to retire with her to another shloss that belonged to her mother, or rather, the woman who posed as her mother. She was Katalin, the vampire who had turned Carmilla long ago, and according to my friend, she could be as commanding as a queen, due to her greater age: vampires increased in power and status as they increased in years, and as they created more vampires beneath them.
When she told me this, I feared that Katalin would kill me herself if she took a fancy to it, or if she thought it unfitting to allow a human to stay with her, but Carmilla fiercely promised that she would not allow it. "Besides," she told me, "we are allowed to keep familiars about us — that is, people who are not vampires. Usually, they serve us in some capacity."
For some reason, a shiver went through me at this. "And will I be your servant, if I go with you?"
She did not respond for a moment, but traced my cheek with her fingertip. "That depends," she said at last. "Though I do not think that would be the right word, in any case."
It was a little difficult to convince my father to let the two of us travel to Carmilla's home, but our entreaties did eventually have the desired effect. We traveled in my father's carriage, driven by locals who could barely manage the frightened horses the closer we drew to Carmilla's home, and who turned and dashed away as soon as we and our trunks were unloaded.
"My family — coven, rather — will be awake by now, as it is quite evening," she said, and indeed, the great doors to her castle (which was on the whole smaller than my father's shloss, but much more heavily fortified) opened just then and released the two women I had seen when I had first met Carmilla. At first the one whom I had believed to be her mother was angry, while the black woman remained silent, looking between myself and Carmilla several times with her arms folded.
"Girls like this are your prey," the mother reminded her, pointing at me, and I shrank into Carmilla's shadow as she put a protective arm about me.
"It is my right to decide if I wish to drink someone to death," Carmilla retorted, "and I do not wish to kill Laura! She is to be my companion and familiar."
As they argued, the two women seemed to change in front of me, their eyes becoming darker, their forms more elongated, and shadws appeared about them that suggested wings, horns, and other monstrosities. What if, I considered feverishly, they were to begin to battle in earnest, and what if Carmilla should not win?
But at last the third woman entered the fray. "Enough!" she commanded, and raised her hands, which caused the other two to fall silent immediately. "We shall respect the young one's decision to take this girl as her familiar, at least for now. It is permitted. Katalin, you shall not touch her unless Carmilla invites you to do so."
After they left us, Carmilla worked out her fury by dragging our trunks up to her chamber, and once she was more calm, she explained to me that Katalin, the vampire who posed as her mother, was about three hundred years older than herself, and that none of them were entirely sure how old Desta was, except that she likely had more than a thousand years. It was, evidently, difficult to keep track of one's age the older one became.
"They are very interfering," she said with a toss of her head. "But Desta is at least understanding. Katalin feels how much closer in age and power she is to me, so she is always pestering me." I embraced her to try to take her mind off this vexation, and she seemed to enjoy it, kissing me and holding me tightly in her arms before laying back on her bed with a sigh.
"I shall have to feed in a few days, though," she told me. "Hopefully she will not trouble you while I am out."
"Must you really drink blood?"
"It is the only thing that sustains us," she said simply.
"Then perhaps you might only feed on me." But this made her give me a sad look.
"That is what I was doing before," she reminded me, "and it was proving fatal. I very much do not wish to kill you, Laura."
It was true that I had been dying from her drinking my blood, and I pondered for a moment for a solution to the problem of the necessity of remaining alive combined with a wish not to have the deaths of any more innocent girls on her soft, thin hands — or to have her need to travel to find new localities with more victims. "What if," I suggested eventually, "you drink from me every so often, so that you do not need to go out as frequently? Or perhaps so that you might not entirely kill them?"
Carmilla did not appear as intensely interested by the prevention of more deaths, but she did at least listen to me as she toyed with my hair. "Well, we might try it," she said, and gave me a dazzling smile when I brightened in response.
I knelt on the floor before Carmilla in my chemise and corset, the rest of my clothes having been removed at her instruction. Though she, still standing, towered above me, I felt utterly safe and unhumiliated: rather, I felt that it was a privilege to be allowed to sit at her feet.
"Unfasten the buttons of your chemise," she ordered, and I hastened to do so, and then held back the two halves of its yoke, eager to obey before being told what to do. It made her smile, which was an excellent reward.
"You are a very good girl," she said, and I was filled with warmth. "Now, spread your knees a little, for balance." After I did so, blushing, she came to the floor before me and examined the skin of my chest and neck minutely. Unaccustomed to anyone having access to this part of my body, this flustered me at first, but her soft caresses calmed me, though her fingers were so cold against my hot flesh. When she kissed the curve of one breast, I gasped in shock, then gasped again when the kiss became a bite, and her needle-sharp teeth broke through the skin to allow her access to the veins beneath.
Carmilla's mouth latched determinedly onto my breast, and her arms wound around my waist to cradle me in a soothing embrace which promised that she would protect me from true harm despite this permitted assault. Her own legs spread as well, one knee seeking the space between mine, and as she sucked, she pushed it closer and closer, until I was firmly pressed against her thigh. The movement of her drinking was subtle at first, but became more emphatic until I was helplessly dragged up and down her leg in a rhythmic motion that I forced myself not to resist; and, indeed, it quickly became so pleasant that I found myself actively increasing it on my own.
From that time on, our relationship became something much, much more than it had been in my father's house. The very pleasant sensation I had experienced while perched upon Carmilla's thigh was only a taste of things to come, as I found the next night, once I had regained my strength: with just two or three fingers, she showed me a greater pleasure than I had ever known before in my life, and I had scarcely recovered from that before she drove me to it again. Her condition left her somewhat indifferent to receiving it herself, or so she claimed, and she assured me that she derived greater enjoyment from bestowing it upon me than the reverse.
"Indeed," she told me while I lay starry-eyed and pink-cheeked in the ancient oak bed that we shared, "I should like to make you come as many times as you can in a row, until you are begging me to stop. And then I shall do it one more time, just to show that I can, and then let you be."
Something about the idea of her having such control over me left me breathless and daring. "I would like that, if it would please you," I confessed in a low voice, and in a flash she was above me, her hungry eyes fixed on mine.
"Then I shall," she told me. "Now, you must tell me each time you come, and thank me for it in your pretty way, and beg me to bring you off again, until you are tired."
I was not as surprised at this order as I might have been, because Carmilla was the sort of girl who liked to have her own way; but I was also very affected by the idea of speaking aloud about such things, when I was fairly certain that it was not considered appropriate. It was not considered appropriate for two ladies to behave like this in general, I was sure, but to beg for it to be done to me seemed particularly unacceptable, yet also particularly appealing. So I thanked her for the order, and kissed her fingertips, and then she began to play with me in earnest.
The first time that a paroxysm occurred after the order, I said nothing, as I was too engaged in the sensations it caused, but Carmilla slid her fingers out of me and frowned down into my face. "You must tell me," she said petulantly, and I hastened to overcome my error.
"Yes, yes. I am so sorry, darling." But still she hung over me without touching me again, and I realized that I must play my part. "I — I have come, Carmilla. Thank you for that, and please, please let me have another?" I spread my legs and tried to raise my hips up to where her fingers waited, and at last she took pity on me and continued. After the next, she bade me call her mistress when I thanked and begged her, which seemed to whet my appetite for her touch even more. After the third, I could scarcely stop myself from thanking her, but after two more I found myself exhausted, and requesting that my mistress let me rest, if it were not objectionable to her. She said nothing to this, but continued to ply her hand between my legs, and tears came into my eyes as the next climax built within me though I was sapped of all real desire. It crashed over me like a wave that was soft from the ebbing of the tide, but still a force of nature that could toss my body about despite my own will to remain in place.
"I've come again, mistress," I managed to gasp, "and — and I thank you for it."
At this she smiled, and her fingers drew one more time, slowly, through my slick folds; I lay entirely enervated, wondering if she would continue to toy with me and willing to allow her to do so, if she enjoyed it. She sat up, though, and as she did so, she brought the hand she had used upon me to her mouth and began to lick it clean.
"It's not so nourishing as your blood, but still very good." Her voice had a deeply satisfied tone, and I blushed — or, at least, I felt as though I should blush, but I had already become so ruddy with arousal and exertion that I could not flush any deeper due to embarrassment or pride. Yet again, I was so gratified by Carmilla's attraction to me that I could scarcely believe it; but I had the evidence before me that she did indeed like my company and my body. Despite my exhaustion, I was suddenly filled with a desire for her to have me again and again in any way that would bring her joy.
"Oh, Carmilla," I could not stop myself from saying, "you may do anything at all that you like with me. I cannot imagine a life better than this."
My companion, my mistress, went very still at that, and her usual haughty demeanor chilled into seriousness. "You ought not to say things like that unless you truly mean them," she told me. "Not to me. Vampires, my dear, take oaths so seriously."
In response, I twined my arms about her neck and kissed her lips, so red and so sweet. "I do mean it. I shall be your slave or your pet, or anything else, so long as it pleases you — because that is the best thing in the world to me."