Her deep grey eyes widened with shock as she saw his fangs growing, a trick that only cgi had ever made even remotely close to the real thing.  She was used to the snap on fangs most shows and movies employed.  He wasn't faking..  as he bit her she yelped, squirming against him despite the possibility of the bite of the crop on her backside again.  she could feel the pain, but then the rest, and she gasped.  Her struggles became something else, more of an internal struggle against the sudden intense rush of arousal and the determination to fight it.<br/><br/>Once he moved away she was almost writhing, and she gasped, watching him dress and leave wordlessly.  She didn't -want- to masturbate..  and yet that burning need was there strong and potent, the desire to rub and tease, to draw that sensation out to its logical conclusion.  She crawled onto the bed, sitting there for a long moment, though "sitting" consisted of squirming, wincing, and trying not to get aroused further or hurt the welt slowly forming on her backside.  the pain helped dull the arousal a little..  at first.<br/><br/>she eventually got up, exploring as much of the room as she could reach, digging through the dresser in frustration, crying now that he couldn't see her cry... but finally she lay down on the bed.  at first she started on her stomach, but that felt too good.  she rolled to her back, wincing at the feeling of the welt as it contacted the bedcloths, but slowly the heat in her rear died down a little, and she was left only with that burning desire between her legs.