You sat across from your Mistress, fidgeting quietly despite your best efforts. The talks were going well – exceedingly so – but the executive She was talking with kept fucking ogling Her. Not like he wasn’t subtle about it, but you were officially Her bodyguard.

You were trained to pick up on these kinds of things, after all. The subtle outline of the man’s own sidearm, and those of his own guards’, were readily apparent to your augmented vision.

As well as his fucking stench. You could smell the arousal on him as he probably undressed your Mistress in his head (telepathy was, unfortunately, a sense you were not equipped with) and it fucking reeked. Still, you could do naught but watch without orders, or until he made a move…

A few hours later, as you locked the door to Her room after a regretfully uneventful meeting, She turned to you and tilted your head up with a finger.

“You did so well, restraining yourself for me.” That fucking voice. Her low, smooth tone was fucking intoxicating and washed all other thoughts away. “I could sense it, too, my sweet shield. Men, hm? But it makes them absolutely blind to just how they’re going to get fucked. And speaking of that…”

She turned away and strode towards the bed, unbuttoning Her blouse as She went.

“Why don’t you show me the kiss of your edge, hm? Let me see my weapon for a bit.” That was all the permission you needed.

Diving into Her, teeth and claws and blades, delighting in Her squeals and shrieks as you tore into Her. Anything you could do would heal by the morning, and leave lovely little marks as it did. She saw to that.

You were the only one allowed to taste Her – Her sweat, Her skin, Her nectar, Her blood – all reserved for Her most loyal of servants, and you would do unspeakable acts to preserve this most precious of rewards. And you had, after all.

You’d soaked your blades and hands many times in Her name before now, and Her rewards for doing so were always sublime.

Watching Her blood mix with your own, tasting it on your lips, feeling pleasure and pain twist together into an ecstasy matched only by the times you’ve been given cause to draw your weapons.

Tomorrow was bound to be another dull day of watching negotiations and dealing with troublesome executives, but tonight? You sink your teeth into Her thigh once again, lapping at her blood as it wells up around your fangs.

Tonight was going to be wonderful.