The Count

Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Monsters — Monster who's lost count and has to start all over again

Content notices for: kink scene, consensual sadism.

Nobody told you that being a vampire would come with the compulsion to count spilled seeds and grain.

And definitely nobody told you about kneeling, naked, knees wide, on moonlit flagstones; a warm human body sitting behind you on a stool, soothing, stroking your hair, while you pick at a small handful of uncooked rice scattered in front of you. One, thank you Mistress; two, thank you Mistress, pushing them into little piles to keep track until the capricious drip from the pipette and Erlenmeyer flask of holy water makes you arch and yelp and your clenching hands send it all scattering.

"Shh, shh, shhhhhh." She scratches gently at your scalp. "Good, you're so good for me, that's beautiful."

You spasm and hiccup, not quite, still not quite, at the cathartic point where you can remember how to cry.

Fingertip to a rice grain. "One." Your voice wobbles, just a little. "Thank you, Mistress."