Sally’s hand came up. You damn selfish fucker!

Willingly she smacked his ass hard.

Again. Again.

Each time the young man’s body jerked and he groaned. She smacked him with all her fury. This is what you’ve done! His body wriggled. “Hold still!” she panted. “Hold still and take it!” She slammed her hand against his rough jeans so that her hand hurt, again and again and he held himself still, moaning against the ground.

From behind her came a sob. Walter, longing for the punishment she was meting out?

She also felt Lavinia watching, blankly neutral.

Through his jeans and hers, his erection pressed against her lap, but it was wilting. She was losing him. So she backed off, stroking his ass through his jeans. “That’s my good boy, so obedient,” she cooed, like Lavinia sometimes did with her.

Please, baby, stay with me, she begged her lover. But there was no answering thought. There was just silence.

Silence?

The maniacal laughter and screams were gone. The sudden silence was cacophonous.

Except for the kid saying in a small, embarrassed voice, ready to back off at any hint of disapproval, “Please, please punish me? I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you say, you can do anything to me…”

She’d pulled him out of the trance. Whatever had used him as a conduit was stopped for the moment. She risked a quick look around.

Jesse and Walter hovered protectively behind her, hand in hand. The night felt cleaner but shuffling feet all around told her that whatever kept the usual army of vampires out of this place was removed. They were coming.

And Rich’s connection with her started to unravel. Quickly she turned back to him and snapped, “On your knees. Ass naked. Now.”

“Yes, Lo--, yes, yes.” But he hadn’t moved in decades and he didn’t move now, though his body quivered.

“What did you almost call me?” she said.

Suddenly she was Lavinia watching beautiful young stranger Sally blush and shake her head furiously. Channeling Lavinia, she purred, “You’ll tell me,” lacing her fingers into the kid’s messy hair and pulling his head back. But she had spoken over him; he was already answering.

“Louder!” she snapped.

“Master!” he wailed. She flipped him over and ripped down his pants, just as if he had obeyed her command to bare his ass to her. It was a perfectly cute male tush, round and smiling as a powder puff.

“Oh no it wasn’t that,” she purred. Possessed by power she’d never used, she trailed playful fingers up and down the crack of his ass (wrinkling her nose—he didn’t smell great). Suddenly she clamped her knees together on his hard penis. “Ouch!” he cried.

“Shut up. Tell me who I am to you.” She smacked him lightly, then a little harder. She liked the way his cheeks quivered under her hand. He murmured a word. She smacked him five more times, setting up a rhythm, watching him settle into it. “Say it again so I can hear it.”

“Lord,” he whispered.

“That’s better,” she whispered back. And then understanding sank in.

This kid was living a fantasy of being punished by God himself. Sally’s parents had raised their daughters Christian. They had picked a bland, middle of the road, unobjectionable American Christianity and gone to church every Sunday for years, which was probably why Sally was a firm atheist. She did not believe in God – and yet, the thought of saying, “I’m God,” filled her with superstitious dread.

She suddenly wished she could talk to a good Christian, like that Sister Amanda. If Sister Amanda gave her permission, she could do this.

Yeah, right. She would ask a devout nun for permission to do a BDSM scene involving God.

Surely she could say words and pretend for a little while? But this was so far outside her comfort zone. If she played God, what evil would she invite in? My god, she thought, aware of the irony of using those words, I’m more eager to go down into that crypt and face what’s there than to risk damning my immortal soul like this kid had done.

He had invited in evil and it had come to him.

Something in this place had responded to his mind – and created the image he most dreaded. That vampire had looked just like the kid’s worst nightmare of a vampire.

And it hadn’t touched him. Did that mean anything? It had channeled him, pushed him back to this very place but it couldn’t touch him.

And just by the way, Rich had fallen into the crypt – but now the crypt was blasted and blackened and he was lying on his back outside the crypt, not in it.

She was hesitating too long. The blessed silence was streaked with random screams and giggles, like a fever dream returning dim and purple. She had to keep the kid engaged. And she had to do it without the feedback of his voice in her head.

Change the rules. No, she wasn’t going to go along with his fantasy. She would bring him along with hers. But what was her fantasy? She had always played the sub, always.

She had to say something. “You dare to call me your god?” she snarled, all the internal confusion boiling into anger. She swatted his ass several times to keep the energy sexual so he wouldn’t just shut down. “There is no God, son,” she whispered intensely into his ear. “There’s only me.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” he gasped with just the excitement she hoped for. The other sounds died out again.

Except the shuffling and scrunching of feet. Dozens of vampires lurked just beyond the edges of this clearing and she was going to have to ignore them and keep playing this game.

It was cold, she was angry and frightened and not sexually aroused at all. But Goddess, did she ever want to punish this kid.

So she started to smack his ass again and judged by his excited groans that she was doing well.