I sit by the hearth, clothed, for the first time since I can remember. I am eleven days born. This is what Sire tells me. I'm observing. I don't quite know what's expected of me. This is the first time we've left Sire's bed since our coupling began. The first time I've seen Drusilla since that night. I'd seen Darla, as she'd come in to offer us sustenance. Each time she'd enter, I'd quake, and feel Sire's hearty laughter within me. He's taken comfort in my body in every way imaginable. And I bathe in him. His scent, his brow, his touch, his lips.

The clothes I'm wearing feel strange. My skin feels imprisoned within the fabric. A mere two weeks ago, I'd have felt quite the opposite. But scores of things have changed between then and now. scores of things. Few questions were answered during our coupling. And I have countless questions, but where to begin?

Drusilla lies sprawled across Sire in the heavy armchair, and here - we are safe from all. He looks down on her in his lap, smiling. His hands teasing and tickling, caressing her face and playing with the laces on her dress. She reaches up to pull the tie from his hair, and watches as the loose strands frame his face. She's giggling as he feigns annoyance at this, and tickles beneath her ribs.

Darla is sitting at the writing desk, scribbling furiously, and tapping her finger against the wood when they become too noisy. Sire raises his finger to his lips and makes a silent 'shh' behind the digit. Still smiling.

"Dearest. we'll need to bring in the tailor for him. The garments must be readied by next Thursday."

Sire continues looking into Drusilla's eyes, caressing her face and smiling.

"Aye. the tailor."

"Angelus, are you listening to me, boy?"

His head lifts briefly.

"I am."

And drops again, to meet her gaze.

"You'll spoil her."

Her voice rings out, almost in song.

"I wouldn't be dreamin' of such a thing."

Both Darla and Sire fall into laughter at his statement. I remain next to the fire. Not knowing what to do. I reach out to handle a log, and place it in the blaze. It's large, heavy, and so thick with pitch, I would've required gloves to handle it before. before.

"Mind the flames, William."

A spark flies out, and lands beside my foot.

"Yes. I'll see to the fire."

"Yer a Vampire, my boy. There are few things that can harm us, but fire is one of them. You'd do well to remember it."

"I'm. I'm not certain I understand."

Darla moves next to me, offering her hand. I swallow hard, lace my fingers with hers, and rise.

"Dear one, we mustn't be careless around flames. They're quite dangerous for the likes of us."

She gestures for me to sit at a safe distance from the hearth. I take my position on the floor, and look up at her. My God, she's remarkable. I feel a swelling behind my trousers, and quickly place my hands over my lap. It's rather impossible for me to find speech when she's nearby. My eyes fall to the floor covering. Her gentle laugh chimes through the room, and she returns to her desk. Once again, I'm seated alone, observing.

Drusilla is singing and demanding jam on bread and lemonade. I cannot be certain, but I believe I understand. She's missed him. Missed Sire. He's been gone eleven days. Gone from her. With me. I cannot begrudge them this time. I can only watch with fascinated interest as his large hands close around the fabric of her gown, and begin sliding the skirts up her soft legs. I trail my eyes to his face, searching for an expression. What I find is an intense gaze fixed firmly on me.

"Have ye ever seen a woman bared, William?"

There's a lump in my throat, I gulp, and instantly my eyes glue themselves to the patterned rug at my feet.

". Certainly not."

His amusement is palpable, loud laughter, and I feel my toes curl in my shoes.

"Ye'd not be thinkin' of shame in my company, now would ye?"

I know precisely what we've done! I know I'll face eternal damnation for the acts we've performed!

"I've no interest in being humiliated in front of."

I nod my head towards Darla, and he laughs again.

"Is it Darla's nakedness ye wish to be seein' then, lad?"

"Sire. please."

"Alright, William. You should know now, ye'll be tendin' to all our needs, not just my own. I'd think you'd 've lost some of that decency, in favor of satisfying yer urges."

Darla taps her fingers on the desk, and offers Sire a glance.

"Angelus, it would seem you've taken pleasure in our newest, and taught him nothing beyond bringing you comfort."

Sire shakes his head and grins.

"Aye, lass. But can ye be blamin' me? Have a look at him."

"I see him. and he's lovely, and there's no excuse for not allowing this darling creature the benefit of knowledge."

"There's no rush in it. Innocence. Like to be savorin' these moments, if it pleases yer."

"He's not a plaything, Angelus. He's a Vampire, who put his hand into a burning fire."

"And t'was I who put a stop to it."

"Yes, but would you have been quick enough, my love? Swift enough to save your flaming boy?"

"Woman, you should be aware, tis my very life I'd be givin' fer that boy."

"And if you were teaching him, it would never come to pass."

The expression on Sire's face is positively miserable. He says nothing, but stares at Darla with an intense look of grief.

"You know now what might have happened to the boy if that spark had landed on his clothes...you sitting across the room...the boy, still thinking he's human and batting at the living coal with his bare hands"

"Stop. Sire. I beg of you."

He's whispered, his lips are quivering and his hand is shaking, as he brings it to his brow. I want to run to him, and tell him I'm fine, and that he needn't worry, and that I shall heed all of his warnings. Anything. as I don't wish to see him this way. ever.

"Fine, I believe you understand what might occur if the boy is left uneducated. The ignorance could kill him."

"Nah. nah. I'll have none of that."

His voice is small and shaking. He looks over at me.

"Could not bear to grieve yer loss, Childe. Come to me, William."

And I do. I move with speed I've never known. Move to his side. Kneel at his feet, his hands cup my head, and he places it on Drusilla's stomach. I close my eyes, and feel his fingers winding through my hair.

"I'll do anything you bid, Sire. I'm sorry, I'll not be careless around flames again."

"Tis my fault, William. Tis my fault."

"No."

"Shh, lad. Yer but a pup, and you need me to educate ye. Tis precisely what I'll be doin' from here on."

I haven't any idea what to say. The room is silent, but for the crackle of the fire, and Drusilla's humming. It's quite curious, as I am somehow able to sense emotions from my new family. With my eyes closed, I can concentrate on the scents. Drusilla smells like a field of wild flowers, confusion and lavender. Pins and feathers and all manner of bewilderment. The lace from her gown scratches my face when she shifts. Her hands join Sire's in twisting through my hair. A sharp nail scrapes at the back of my neck, and the arousal it brings. Dear God. The arousal it brings is spicy and rich, and it's my scent. My scent.

"I see you." She sings "You and your baby fishes, and your glowing wonderful mess!"

She lifts my head and sits up on Sire's lap.

"Are you a Maharaja? From Sri Lanka?"

"I'm William, the newest."

"I know, silly! William, the newest Maharaja from Sri Lanka!"

"You smell like a meadow."

I tell her. And she does. Like the scent of sun scorched wild flowers on a summer afternoon. She regards me with a tilt of her head.

"Are there dollies in my meadow?"

"Yes."

"Will you wear heavy robes lined in gold for me?"

"Whatever you desire."

I haven't any idea what she sees, and why she would think me a Maharaja, but it seems to pacify her. She leans back against Sire's chest and stretches her arms out to her sides.

"Good girl, yerself. Mustn't suppress yer delight for him. Bare yerself to his eyes, lass."

And with finely tapered fingers, she clutches tightly at her gown and begins to lift the skirts. I am crouched, and staring into Sire's face with what must be an expression of panic. It must be, as he's reaching around her and stroking my face to calm me.

"I've. I've never."

"Of that, I have no doubt, lad."

I twine my fingers with his, in hopes that he'll guide me through this gently. He nods. It strikes me now at the peculiarity of our situation. He seems to know what's in my head at any given moment, and he responds to it, as if I'd voiced it aloud. But the brush of her skirt against my arm catches my attention, and now I'm staring in awe at her bared knees. Higher, the fabric slides higher. I'm graced with a view of majestic thighs. and higher. higher, and a patch of soft black curls. and I'm feeling an ember burn brightly in my stomach. I feel like clutching myself and curling onto the ground, but I remain. Sire's fingers tighten against mine, and she drapes her legs on either side of his. I pant, I breathe, and though Sire says it's not necessary, I beg to differ. I do believe it is. Very much, it is.

"William. the newest Maharaja from Sri Lanka."

She giggles in a voice so like a child that I'm forced to look into her face to be certain it's still her. It is. In grand form, it is. A wet pink tongue glides over parted lips, and her head falls forward, her chin against her chest, and now back again.

"Is there a tiger in your garden, Maharaja?"

"Yes."

I pant out, and it seems to thrill her, as she begins the most lascivious undulating on Sire's knee.

"Is he golden with black spots?"

"He has stripes."

Her face scrunches into a look of dissatisfaction.

"I prefer spots!"

"Spots, it is."

"Will you have your groomsmen paint them for me?"

"I will."

"Will you taste me, Maharaja?"

Sire's hand pulls me towards them, and I have no idea what I'm to do. Taste her. where? There? But she's moving. And I'm aching in my groin. I look up again, to see her face. Lashes. Sharp as polished blades, rest against her porcelain cheeks. And her endowments, placed before me in a manner for me to savor, and I do. Place my lips against the softest flesh I've felt, allow my tongue to venture out and taste the sleek saltiness I find there. Her moans are quiet and hesitant as I move to her inner thigh, Sire's hand still squeezing my own. Higher. Higher. The moans are louder now, and a hand is resting against my neck, scraping fingernails that send shivers down my spine. Without hesitation, I bury my mouth against the hungering mound of sweet wetness, pressing forward, and my tongue laps at the small swelling hidden beneath these lush curls. And Oh, I ache. I ache for her. As her hips twist and grind against me. My eyes close, and I try to breathe her in. Wildflowers. I'll never forget this scent. My tongue moves rapidly now, pressing and flicking against her. The nails no longer scratch against my neck, they dig deeply into the flesh, and I'm moaning into her wetness. Moaning and licking and drinking her in.

"That's it, dear lad. Would ye like to be takin' her, then?"

I pull my head away, and this hunger within me is burning so bright. I wish to feast upon her. The most delicious dish my palate has ever known. She's sobbing now, and clawing at my neck, pulling me forward again.

"Drusilla! Mind yerself! He might be a Maharaja, but he's still our newest, an' ye'll bring no harm, girl."

"Daddy. daddy." she moans "I'm twisting inside."

"Aye, ye are, lovely. Give our William a moment, an' he'll be tendin' to yer hunger."

"What am I to do, Sire?"

"Precisely what I've done to you, lad. Can ye manage this?"

"On my own?"

"Aye, trust yer instincts, boy. Ye'll be fine."

"I want you there."

"As ye wish, my pup."

I rise, and pull Drusilla to stand before me. The skirts fall around her legs once again, concealing them. I want nothing more than to bare her. To bend myself between her thighs, and greedily kiss her wetness for a second time. I cannot turn to see Darla, as I would be overcome by the hunger for her, so I move us into the next room without looking at the stunning blonde perched behind the desk.

"William, ye'll be satisfyin' yer lust for Darla soon enough, lad. Tend to our Princess, aye?"

He's telling me to savor the one I'm in the company of. How I'm able to decipher his message is but a puzzle to me. Instinctively, I know. Instincts. Trust my instincts. And my instincts tell me to shed myself of these clothes that scratch at my skin. They tell me to unlace the bodice of this beauty who provokes such enticements from deep within my being. They tell me to kneel before Sire, and unbutton his trousers, to slide them down these noble legs, to lift and pull at the shirt that conceals his broad chest. Until we are bare, we three.

"Come dance in the meadow with me, Maharaja."

As I watch her slink along the bedclothes, one finger hooked and calling to me. This beauty with the eternal treasures of youth so victoriously displayed for me. For me.

"Lie with her, William."

My Master commands, his hand on the small of my back, gently urging me forward. Forward to this flesh that seamlessly moves like animated snow. Her dark ringlets spilling across the linens, her eyes glittering in anticipation. And when my hands finally caress against her thighs, she mewls like a feline being petted, and parts them for me.

"Take yer pleasure in her, lad."

The soft whisper against my neck causes me to tremble. I feel his large hand covering my sex, and guiding me towards her. Forward, and forward. Closer, until the distance is closed and I am flush against her wetness. The hand moves to my backside and presses down hard. And, Oh. Oh. This wetness is closing around me, and I could complete myself with only a fraction of movement. I pause, and I shake, and the hand presses harder. The thighs beneath me move further apart. Impossibly far, and I'm sinking into this sheath, so soft and damp. My eyes close and I'm plummeting into her with a triumphant thrust. I cannot move. I cannot. For if I were to move, this would all be over. And I don't want this to be over. This should last eternally.

"Part yer legs, William."

In suspended arousal, my legs part, and the hand that pushed me forward is now caressing my own access. Small touches, feather light. My head falls to the soft mounds of her breasts, and I'm holding her tightly and lapping at her bosom.

"Dance with me. Look into my eyes deary. dance with me."

I lift my head and suddenly I see her, and we are in that meadow. The meadow with the sun scorched flowers, and she's lying in the tall grass beneath me. My body rocks forward and the tall blades of weeds lash at my skin. We're moving together, dancing with the rhythm of our bodies. I watch her writhe and glide along my sex. Each stroke within her brings more scratches from the wild flowers and grass. I'm flexing and pumping with every ounce of power within me, and she's calling out to me. begging for more. More. I give her more, and pummel my hips against her yielding flesh. I'm gasping and moaning. and Sire's here. and my backside is stretched and readied for his entrance. There is slickness against me, in my front, in my rear. and I twist in it. I twist and I turn, and I whimper, and I plead, and I beg. The thrusting continues as I feel the familiar heavy weight of my Sire mounting me. I pause in the meadow to allow the heightening of this sensation, when the full and thick shaft of my Master enters me. The killing sweetness threads through my body and I'm flooding her. flooding her. filling her with the agony of my bliss. Filling her and she's laughing and clamping her legs around me, and tightness. Oh Lord. tightness around my length, in pulses and spasms. and I'm breathing again.

"Ah, William. ah, love. Move, lad. Like this again, lad. For me, don't be stopping now, boy."

And I move and feel him thudding against my rear in shuddering jerks. The coolness of his release coating me, bathing me, drowning me.

"My boy. my boy."

"He's our Maharaja."

We are no longer in the meadow. We are on Drusilla's bed, and our limbs tangled in a mess of flesh and sweat. My body sings in calmness and satisfaction. I don't want to leave this place.

"But this is only the beginning, lad. I've much to show ye."

He pulls me from Drusilla and curls his body around mine.

"You've given me so much, Sire."

"And I'll be givin to ye eternally, William."

I can find no words of thanks. Nothing that could possibly bring justice to how I feel. I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss the fingertips.

"Ye have no need for words, William. and ye have no need for thanks. Ye belong here, with me."

"I belong to you."

An affirmation.

"Aye, and we to you."