Dear All,
I haven't been around for over a year - put the novel in a dark cupboard to rest. Just taken it out and thought this could still work, but it needs tidying up and a second pair of eyes.
Is anyone available to take the time to help me with it? What I need is a second pair of eyes, preferable good with grammar and punctuation, and into the erotic horror genre with plot ideas - basically someone who wants to get involved with this project. I have written 100,000 words.
If you are interested, and have the time, please drop me a PM or reply to the thread. There is no time frame involved in reviewing this novel, so we can take as long as it takes.
The story is as follows;
Historical info - Vlad Dracula was killed in battle against the Turks near the town of Bucharest in December of 1476. Some reports indicate that he was assassinated by disloyal Wallachian boyars just as he was about to sweep the Turks from the field.
First Part of the Novel's Synopsis - At a meeting between the Pontiff’s representative, and a Council of Vampyre Elders, The Church threatens them with extinction unless they kill and destroy the bodies of Vlad Tepes and Gregor his adviser. Despite holding back the Ottoman advance, the Church cannot condone Tepes’s wanton killing any longer.
Holding records of every living vampyre, the church’s threat is taken seriously. Six elders disguised as Wallachian boyars, murder Vlad Tepes and Gregor during a battle in 1476 with the Ottomans.
Their bodies, including a ring and casket are spirited away by an elder and hidden at the Snagov Monastery.
During the battle, the elder also ensures that Tepes’s baby daughter is taken from her human Mother, and sent first to an orphanage in France, and when old enough, to a brothel in Montmarte.
Prologue & Chapter One:
Steaming breath burst inside the ice-cold room as accusations, threats, and insults flew about. Amidst the mayhem, a hooded figure sat quietly on a golden throne, listening, only his podgy, ring-encrusted fingers visible under his purple raiment. Finally, he stood up.
”Quiet!” His voice boomed across the hall with a loudness and authority that belied his small, crooked body. The noise abated. “Listen to me. Do as I say or die.” He smiled at his Cardinals gathered nervously about his throne, stretched out a finger and snarled at the Count and his camarilla. ”We will annihilate you, you and your race. Agree to what we ask, or face extinction.”
Ashen-faced, and with his knuckles white with anger, the Count glared from across the oak table.
Unmoved, the hooded figure lowered his hand, scratched his pointed chin and cleared his throat. “We have coexisted for hundreds of years, but the Church will not allow the carnage to continue. You and your cohorts must destroy him and all his offspring. You have seven days.” His piggy eyes scuttled from face to face, watching the Count and his entourage seethe.
After a short silence, the Count unfurled his woollen cloak and wearily got to his feet. Exhausted by the hours locked in fruitless recriminations he looked at his colleagues, took an ornate stiletto from his belt, and sliced the palm of his hand. He then slammed the bloodied palm onto the table making the Cardinals jump.
”I give you my blood and my word. We will do as you ask.”
The piggy eyes bulged. “Good,” rasped the hooded figure, ”It’s settled then.” He snorted loudly and bowed toward the Count.
The gathering rose from the table and, like a murder of angry crows dissatisfied with their meagre carrion, they lingered, waiting for their leader. The Count bowed deferentially, but his bloodshot eyes burned with hate.
A sardonic smile broke across the hunched figure’s face. Followed by his Cardinals, he stiffly shuffled from the room.
As the hot weather broke, rain poured through the Parisian streets, washing away months of summer dust. Adele raced for cover, worried about her fragile gown. In amongst the alcoves of the small shops along the Rue Montmarte she darted, cursing herself for forgetting her hood. Having waited in vain at the café for the rain to stop, she was now too close to her meeting to dawdle; as Madame often remarked, time waited for no one, not even on her twenty first birthday.
With a skip and a jump, Adele reached the safety of Le Cabonaise. A quick check of her clothing satisfied her that, but for a few minor patches, she had arrived dry and unscathed. She knew nothing of her appointment, which was strange. Her talkative Madame had said little of this special client.
Pushing the large oak door open, Bergerac greeted her with a toothy grin. His large creased forehead, bulging watery eyes and stooping gait was almost comical, but for the fact that he was a harsh and sinister man with a dreadful reputation. His family had protected the brothel for years, and it was accepted wisdom never to cross them. Adele smiled sweetly, eliciting an exaggerated windmill of a bow from the fat greasy man. She was half way up the wooden staircase before his swirling arms descended and completed their startling repertoire. He thought he was funny—a troll guarding a fairy castle, he would say—but nobody ever laughed.
Adele ran along the darkened corridor, her damp shoes leaving a silvery trail of water on the crimson carpet. As she ran, cotton drapes billowed in the breeze coming through the open windows. Occasional rays of sunlight broke through the greyness, and shards of white diamonds danced on the floor.
Reaching her room, Adele removed her gown, mud splattered hose and shoes. Sorting through a drawer, she selected a pair of yellow cotton stockings, two pale blue garters, and sat on the edge of her bed to dress. She slipped on her best shoes, took a deep breath and checked her appearance. She pushed and prodded her ample bosom, till it ballooned precariously over her bodice - a trick Madam Bouverie had shown her. Satisfied with her appearance, she got up and glided regally from her room to the staircase.
At the door of le salon de la petite mort, as the girls called it she stopped, inhaled deeply, and slowed her breathing. Composed, she opened the door expecting to see a gentleman, but was puzzled to find a tall woman clad in a small riding hat, veil.
The woman stood in the centre of the room with her back to her. She turned slowly, the contours of her full breasts silhouetted against the open fire, their fine curves barely concealed by a silk shirt. In her hand, she held a crop. Bemused, Adele moved closer.
The visitor raised her head and Adele froze, pierced to her soul by the woman’s green eyes.
”You must be Adele; I am a friend.” For a fleeting moment, time in the room stood still. The visitor’s face, framed by long blonde curls grew large and flittered about the room, examining Adele from every angle.
”Is...is everything to your satisfaction ma’am?’ asked Adele, raising a hand in front of her face, trying to avoid the stranger’s hypnotic eyes.
’You should not worry; everything is fine.” The stranger smiled and looked at Adele’s full figure. Adele blushed, unused to being stared at by a woman. “How you have grown from a small girl into a beautiful woman!” The visual inquisition stopped as suddenly as it had started, but Adele was startled to find the visitor standing directly in front of her, inches from her face. ”You are a pretty girl Adele, somewhat clumsy in the pleasuring arts, but I am told you have talent and a will to learn.” Adele blanched and lowered her head. Her long blonde hair covered her face.
Taking a piece of polished ebony from her bag, the stranger showed it to Adele. It was a curved penis, beautifully re-created in smooth ebony wood, with kid leather straps.
”I want you to put this on.”
”But madam, I am a woman, why would I want this?” said Adele, offering it back to the stranger, who laughed.
”You have so much to learn!” The woman took her hand, and at the same time loosened her cape and dropped it to the floor. ”Now, let me see you properly.” Adele nervously untied the laces of her corset and then her skirt and chemise, until she stood only in her lisle stockings and shoes. ’Adele, put it on.’ The strangers voice was firm. This time she took the wooden phallus and buckled it between her thighs. She felt stupid; she was not a man and never wanted to be. ’Watch me carefully,’ whispered the stranger moving back to the centre of the room before throwing off kid gloves and stripping in front of Adele. It may have been the warmth of the fire, or perhaps the brandy she had taken on the street to warm her, but Adele’s face flushed and her nipples began to harden. She watched the languid, feline movements of the woman as each piece of clothing fell to the floor. Naked, apart from her hose, the stranger turned and walked toward her. Without support, her luscious breasts quivered, bounced, and swung seductively toward her. Her exposed nipples long, puckered and rouged, corralled by small dark aureoles. In the large wall mirror, Adele saw tattooed on her left shoulder blade, a naked woman crucified on a cross, enwrapped by a snake. Adele had never seen such a beautiful tattoo. It was nothing like the rough drawings she had seen on men.
The woman stopped with her hands on hips in front of Adele. Her sinewy legs sheathed in white silk curved inward rather appealingly at the top of her inner thigh. Adele looked at her shaven womanhood; red lips opened like the petals on a rose, and between them, a glistening dew. Adele’s breasts heaved and fell rapidly; gently rotating the base of the ivory phallus against her clitoris felt good.
’Madame Boverie tells me you like girls as well as boys.’ Adele froze. How could Madam know this? ’It is quite natural. Please do not be alarmed. Do you play with yourself Adele when a man cannot satisfy you?’ The stranger moved to a large leather chair by the fire, sat back and with slow languid movements caressed her breasts. ’Do you ache for attention after they have all gone home?’ The woman slid a finger along her lips and they slowly parted. Adele’s eyes fixed on her fingers. ’Come closer my sweet.’ Adele’s head swam with the smell of Citrus groves, and fields of summer lavender. The woman’s scent was so different from the men who slobbered all over her.
’Do you like what you see?’ Adele had never actually seen another woman touch themselves before, though as a teenager she had girls cry out late at night in her dormitory. Transfixed she stood and watched. First one finger, then another slipped between the petals. ’Come, taste me.’ The woman proffered two sticky fingers. Adele moved closer and licked them tentatively. Now feeling a little bolder, she sucked them into her mouth. ’Mmm, you do that well, but we have much to do.’ Playfully her fingers caressed Adele’s full lips before returning to their oily work. Adele watched, seductively licking the warm salt from her lips. The woman’s breathing quickened, accompanied by moans and sighs as her talon like fingers worked harder and deeper. ’Put your hand here.’ There was urgency in the woman’s voice that made Adele immediately obey.
’What do you feel my sweet? Push inside and explore.’ Adele looked into the woman’s lustful eyes. Her index finger slid along the woman’s sex, parting her warm flesh before settling on her clitoris. The woman’s eyes fluttered and her mouth fell open.
‘Par bleu, oui! oui!!’
Was all she said before her cheek rested on Adele’s shoulder, and she pulled Adele’s fingers hard against her clitoris. The woman’s rapid breath played on Adele’s cheek.
‘Now, please, your fingers inside me!’
Adele pushed one, then two fingers inside, the warm sucking sheath closed around them. Each time she pumped her fingers the woman’s moans sent shivers down her spine. Then, for a moment the woman seemed to stop breathing. Her eyes shut tight, and her mouth went slack. The woman groaned and clung to Adele as a wave of pleasure rolled across her hips and broke inside her. With a deep satisfying sigh, the woman took Adele’s head and cradled it in arms, affectionately kissing her cheek, then the tip of her nose before tentatively opening her lips with her tongue and taking her in a long French kiss. Adele responded eagerly, drawing the womans tongue deep into her mouth. The woman lowered her hands, and removed Adele’s fingers. Pulling back from their embrace, the woman looked into Adele’s blue eyes and lifted the curved wooden phallus to her pouting lips. ’Move forward, and fill me.’ She commanded. Adele shivered excitedly and obeyed without question. She thrust forward, and the wooden phallus slid home. The woman gasped at Adele’s eagerness, wrapped her long legs around her tiny waist, and pulled her closer, embedding the phallus until it could go no deeper. ’Now, my beauty, rock your hips back and forth, just like the men do to you.’ Adele tried her best, but she felt useless, hopelessly inexperienced. Her customers were not the best tutors to be had. ’Gently, my beauty let me guide you.’ The woman unlocked her legs and drew her knees to the side of her chest. ’Rest your hands on my knees, and push back and forth.’ Now Adele moved slower, listening for instruction. Sensing the start of a rhythm, the woman took Adele’s hips in her hands and steadied the pace, until it became a slow, satisfying ‘foutre’.
That afternoon, in the quietness of the bordello, amongst lavender fields, citrus groves, and the warmth of the fire, the tutor became the tutored. The skill Adele showed in controlling the pistoning ebony phallus, coupled with her young succulent body, had the woman overcome with pleasure. With each thrust, Adele felt the woman’s excitement rise until she cried out and her orgasm broke again, sending a myriad of ripples across her flesh. The woman shuddered and clung to her again, only letting go when her orgasm subsided.
The pain was sudden and excruciating. Adele tried in vain to pull away, but her head was held tight. Each corpuscle, vein, and artery ran hot as if boiling oil had replaced her blood. Visions of naked men, women and fountains of blood swam before her eyes and she blacked out. She floated in a twilight world above the two of them. She looked down, watching the woman release her grip and remove from her neck, two six inch ivory fangs, dripping with her blood. The woman coughed and grabbed at her neck. Her eyes bulged and with an expression full of bewilderment she slumped unconscious in a chair. Adele could see two puncture holes bubble with blood on her own neck, then a small stream ran down her shoulder and into the cleft of her bosom. The room began to fade and she slept. The door opened and Bergerac entered.
’Madam!’ Bergerac looked shocked as he entered the room and saw the woman naked, and unconscious in a chair. The woman stirred.
‘It is done Bergerac, but at what price? I don’t understand what happened to me. No matter, I must dress and go.’ with an astonished expression he covered her with her cloak and helped her to her feet.
’Madam, there is something different about you, you look, well different?’ The woman was in no mood for mysteries and waved him away. ’I will return tomorrow. Keep her warm, but do not let her feed.’ Bergerac bowed and carried Adele from the room.
Adele fell into a fitful slumber. Her dreams were vivid and frightening. She recalled sitting in bed, talking to another, male stranger. It seemed odd that he knew all about her. He wanted to know who had bitten her, and was angry when she told him she did not know. He asked about her childhood, and if she knew her father, but her memory was poor. In the middle of a conversation about men, Bergerac burst in and words flew around the room in a language she did not understand. The two men grappled, and Bergerac was thrown across her bed, landing on the floor with a sickening groan. He lay unconscious in a crumpled heap, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The stranger turned and came toward her. She cowered expecting him to throw her too but he was calm and re-assuring. He took a stiletto from his belt and terrified, she froze, her eyes fixed on the thin blade. He smiled and cut a long trestle of her hair, and left. She would never forget it’s blue silver blade, with the black inscription, and the ornate ivory handle carved in the shape of a dragon.
She awoke startled, trying to remember his face but she could only recall seeing a dark shadow. She looked at where Bergerac had landed in her dream. She was relived to see he was not there, but looking closer at the floor, coldness gripped her and the hair on her neck bristled. A dark patch had stained the floorboards crimson - it wasn’t there yesterday.
Tarakan
I haven't been around for over a year - put the novel in a dark cupboard to rest. Just taken it out and thought this could still work, but it needs tidying up and a second pair of eyes.
Is anyone available to take the time to help me with it? What I need is a second pair of eyes, preferable good with grammar and punctuation, and into the erotic horror genre with plot ideas - basically someone who wants to get involved with this project. I have written 100,000 words.
If you are interested, and have the time, please drop me a PM or reply to the thread. There is no time frame involved in reviewing this novel, so we can take as long as it takes.
The story is as follows;
Historical info - Vlad Dracula was killed in battle against the Turks near the town of Bucharest in December of 1476. Some reports indicate that he was assassinated by disloyal Wallachian boyars just as he was about to sweep the Turks from the field.
First Part of the Novel's Synopsis - At a meeting between the Pontiff’s representative, and a Council of Vampyre Elders, The Church threatens them with extinction unless they kill and destroy the bodies of Vlad Tepes and Gregor his adviser. Despite holding back the Ottoman advance, the Church cannot condone Tepes’s wanton killing any longer.
Holding records of every living vampyre, the church’s threat is taken seriously. Six elders disguised as Wallachian boyars, murder Vlad Tepes and Gregor during a battle in 1476 with the Ottomans.
Their bodies, including a ring and casket are spirited away by an elder and hidden at the Snagov Monastery.
During the battle, the elder also ensures that Tepes’s baby daughter is taken from her human Mother, and sent first to an orphanage in France, and when old enough, to a brothel in Montmarte.
Prologue & Chapter One:
Prologue
Bucharest, December 1476
Bucharest, December 1476
Steaming breath burst inside the ice-cold room as accusations, threats, and insults flew about. Amidst the mayhem, a hooded figure sat quietly on a golden throne, listening, only his podgy, ring-encrusted fingers visible under his purple raiment. Finally, he stood up.
”Quiet!” His voice boomed across the hall with a loudness and authority that belied his small, crooked body. The noise abated. “Listen to me. Do as I say or die.” He smiled at his Cardinals gathered nervously about his throne, stretched out a finger and snarled at the Count and his camarilla. ”We will annihilate you, you and your race. Agree to what we ask, or face extinction.”
Ashen-faced, and with his knuckles white with anger, the Count glared from across the oak table.
Unmoved, the hooded figure lowered his hand, scratched his pointed chin and cleared his throat. “We have coexisted for hundreds of years, but the Church will not allow the carnage to continue. You and your cohorts must destroy him and all his offspring. You have seven days.” His piggy eyes scuttled from face to face, watching the Count and his entourage seethe.
After a short silence, the Count unfurled his woollen cloak and wearily got to his feet. Exhausted by the hours locked in fruitless recriminations he looked at his colleagues, took an ornate stiletto from his belt, and sliced the palm of his hand. He then slammed the bloodied palm onto the table making the Cardinals jump.
”I give you my blood and my word. We will do as you ask.”
The piggy eyes bulged. “Good,” rasped the hooded figure, ”It’s settled then.” He snorted loudly and bowed toward the Count.
The gathering rose from the table and, like a murder of angry crows dissatisfied with their meagre carrion, they lingered, waiting for their leader. The Count bowed deferentially, but his bloodshot eyes burned with hate.
A sardonic smile broke across the hunched figure’s face. Followed by his Cardinals, he stiffly shuffled from the room.
Chapter One
Adele
Adele
As the hot weather broke, rain poured through the Parisian streets, washing away months of summer dust. Adele raced for cover, worried about her fragile gown. In amongst the alcoves of the small shops along the Rue Montmarte she darted, cursing herself for forgetting her hood. Having waited in vain at the café for the rain to stop, she was now too close to her meeting to dawdle; as Madame often remarked, time waited for no one, not even on her twenty first birthday.
With a skip and a jump, Adele reached the safety of Le Cabonaise. A quick check of her clothing satisfied her that, but for a few minor patches, she had arrived dry and unscathed. She knew nothing of her appointment, which was strange. Her talkative Madame had said little of this special client.
Pushing the large oak door open, Bergerac greeted her with a toothy grin. His large creased forehead, bulging watery eyes and stooping gait was almost comical, but for the fact that he was a harsh and sinister man with a dreadful reputation. His family had protected the brothel for years, and it was accepted wisdom never to cross them. Adele smiled sweetly, eliciting an exaggerated windmill of a bow from the fat greasy man. She was half way up the wooden staircase before his swirling arms descended and completed their startling repertoire. He thought he was funny—a troll guarding a fairy castle, he would say—but nobody ever laughed.
Adele ran along the darkened corridor, her damp shoes leaving a silvery trail of water on the crimson carpet. As she ran, cotton drapes billowed in the breeze coming through the open windows. Occasional rays of sunlight broke through the greyness, and shards of white diamonds danced on the floor.
Reaching her room, Adele removed her gown, mud splattered hose and shoes. Sorting through a drawer, she selected a pair of yellow cotton stockings, two pale blue garters, and sat on the edge of her bed to dress. She slipped on her best shoes, took a deep breath and checked her appearance. She pushed and prodded her ample bosom, till it ballooned precariously over her bodice - a trick Madam Bouverie had shown her. Satisfied with her appearance, she got up and glided regally from her room to the staircase.
At the door of le salon de la petite mort, as the girls called it she stopped, inhaled deeply, and slowed her breathing. Composed, she opened the door expecting to see a gentleman, but was puzzled to find a tall woman clad in a small riding hat, veil.
The woman stood in the centre of the room with her back to her. She turned slowly, the contours of her full breasts silhouetted against the open fire, their fine curves barely concealed by a silk shirt. In her hand, she held a crop. Bemused, Adele moved closer.
The visitor raised her head and Adele froze, pierced to her soul by the woman’s green eyes.
”You must be Adele; I am a friend.” For a fleeting moment, time in the room stood still. The visitor’s face, framed by long blonde curls grew large and flittered about the room, examining Adele from every angle.
”Is...is everything to your satisfaction ma’am?’ asked Adele, raising a hand in front of her face, trying to avoid the stranger’s hypnotic eyes.
’You should not worry; everything is fine.” The stranger smiled and looked at Adele’s full figure. Adele blushed, unused to being stared at by a woman. “How you have grown from a small girl into a beautiful woman!” The visual inquisition stopped as suddenly as it had started, but Adele was startled to find the visitor standing directly in front of her, inches from her face. ”You are a pretty girl Adele, somewhat clumsy in the pleasuring arts, but I am told you have talent and a will to learn.” Adele blanched and lowered her head. Her long blonde hair covered her face.
Taking a piece of polished ebony from her bag, the stranger showed it to Adele. It was a curved penis, beautifully re-created in smooth ebony wood, with kid leather straps.
”I want you to put this on.”
”But madam, I am a woman, why would I want this?” said Adele, offering it back to the stranger, who laughed.
”You have so much to learn!” The woman took her hand, and at the same time loosened her cape and dropped it to the floor. ”Now, let me see you properly.” Adele nervously untied the laces of her corset and then her skirt and chemise, until she stood only in her lisle stockings and shoes. ’Adele, put it on.’ The strangers voice was firm. This time she took the wooden phallus and buckled it between her thighs. She felt stupid; she was not a man and never wanted to be. ’Watch me carefully,’ whispered the stranger moving back to the centre of the room before throwing off kid gloves and stripping in front of Adele. It may have been the warmth of the fire, or perhaps the brandy she had taken on the street to warm her, but Adele’s face flushed and her nipples began to harden. She watched the languid, feline movements of the woman as each piece of clothing fell to the floor. Naked, apart from her hose, the stranger turned and walked toward her. Without support, her luscious breasts quivered, bounced, and swung seductively toward her. Her exposed nipples long, puckered and rouged, corralled by small dark aureoles. In the large wall mirror, Adele saw tattooed on her left shoulder blade, a naked woman crucified on a cross, enwrapped by a snake. Adele had never seen such a beautiful tattoo. It was nothing like the rough drawings she had seen on men.
The woman stopped with her hands on hips in front of Adele. Her sinewy legs sheathed in white silk curved inward rather appealingly at the top of her inner thigh. Adele looked at her shaven womanhood; red lips opened like the petals on a rose, and between them, a glistening dew. Adele’s breasts heaved and fell rapidly; gently rotating the base of the ivory phallus against her clitoris felt good.
’Madame Boverie tells me you like girls as well as boys.’ Adele froze. How could Madam know this? ’It is quite natural. Please do not be alarmed. Do you play with yourself Adele when a man cannot satisfy you?’ The stranger moved to a large leather chair by the fire, sat back and with slow languid movements caressed her breasts. ’Do you ache for attention after they have all gone home?’ The woman slid a finger along her lips and they slowly parted. Adele’s eyes fixed on her fingers. ’Come closer my sweet.’ Adele’s head swam with the smell of Citrus groves, and fields of summer lavender. The woman’s scent was so different from the men who slobbered all over her.
’Do you like what you see?’ Adele had never actually seen another woman touch themselves before, though as a teenager she had girls cry out late at night in her dormitory. Transfixed she stood and watched. First one finger, then another slipped between the petals. ’Come, taste me.’ The woman proffered two sticky fingers. Adele moved closer and licked them tentatively. Now feeling a little bolder, she sucked them into her mouth. ’Mmm, you do that well, but we have much to do.’ Playfully her fingers caressed Adele’s full lips before returning to their oily work. Adele watched, seductively licking the warm salt from her lips. The woman’s breathing quickened, accompanied by moans and sighs as her talon like fingers worked harder and deeper. ’Put your hand here.’ There was urgency in the woman’s voice that made Adele immediately obey.
’What do you feel my sweet? Push inside and explore.’ Adele looked into the woman’s lustful eyes. Her index finger slid along the woman’s sex, parting her warm flesh before settling on her clitoris. The woman’s eyes fluttered and her mouth fell open.
‘Par bleu, oui! oui!!’
Was all she said before her cheek rested on Adele’s shoulder, and she pulled Adele’s fingers hard against her clitoris. The woman’s rapid breath played on Adele’s cheek.
‘Now, please, your fingers inside me!’
Adele pushed one, then two fingers inside, the warm sucking sheath closed around them. Each time she pumped her fingers the woman’s moans sent shivers down her spine. Then, for a moment the woman seemed to stop breathing. Her eyes shut tight, and her mouth went slack. The woman groaned and clung to Adele as a wave of pleasure rolled across her hips and broke inside her. With a deep satisfying sigh, the woman took Adele’s head and cradled it in arms, affectionately kissing her cheek, then the tip of her nose before tentatively opening her lips with her tongue and taking her in a long French kiss. Adele responded eagerly, drawing the womans tongue deep into her mouth. The woman lowered her hands, and removed Adele’s fingers. Pulling back from their embrace, the woman looked into Adele’s blue eyes and lifted the curved wooden phallus to her pouting lips. ’Move forward, and fill me.’ She commanded. Adele shivered excitedly and obeyed without question. She thrust forward, and the wooden phallus slid home. The woman gasped at Adele’s eagerness, wrapped her long legs around her tiny waist, and pulled her closer, embedding the phallus until it could go no deeper. ’Now, my beauty, rock your hips back and forth, just like the men do to you.’ Adele tried her best, but she felt useless, hopelessly inexperienced. Her customers were not the best tutors to be had. ’Gently, my beauty let me guide you.’ The woman unlocked her legs and drew her knees to the side of her chest. ’Rest your hands on my knees, and push back and forth.’ Now Adele moved slower, listening for instruction. Sensing the start of a rhythm, the woman took Adele’s hips in her hands and steadied the pace, until it became a slow, satisfying ‘foutre’.
That afternoon, in the quietness of the bordello, amongst lavender fields, citrus groves, and the warmth of the fire, the tutor became the tutored. The skill Adele showed in controlling the pistoning ebony phallus, coupled with her young succulent body, had the woman overcome with pleasure. With each thrust, Adele felt the woman’s excitement rise until she cried out and her orgasm broke again, sending a myriad of ripples across her flesh. The woman shuddered and clung to her again, only letting go when her orgasm subsided.
The pain was sudden and excruciating. Adele tried in vain to pull away, but her head was held tight. Each corpuscle, vein, and artery ran hot as if boiling oil had replaced her blood. Visions of naked men, women and fountains of blood swam before her eyes and she blacked out. She floated in a twilight world above the two of them. She looked down, watching the woman release her grip and remove from her neck, two six inch ivory fangs, dripping with her blood. The woman coughed and grabbed at her neck. Her eyes bulged and with an expression full of bewilderment she slumped unconscious in a chair. Adele could see two puncture holes bubble with blood on her own neck, then a small stream ran down her shoulder and into the cleft of her bosom. The room began to fade and she slept. The door opened and Bergerac entered.
’Madam!’ Bergerac looked shocked as he entered the room and saw the woman naked, and unconscious in a chair. The woman stirred.
‘It is done Bergerac, but at what price? I don’t understand what happened to me. No matter, I must dress and go.’ with an astonished expression he covered her with her cloak and helped her to her feet.
’Madam, there is something different about you, you look, well different?’ The woman was in no mood for mysteries and waved him away. ’I will return tomorrow. Keep her warm, but do not let her feed.’ Bergerac bowed and carried Adele from the room.
Adele fell into a fitful slumber. Her dreams were vivid and frightening. She recalled sitting in bed, talking to another, male stranger. It seemed odd that he knew all about her. He wanted to know who had bitten her, and was angry when she told him she did not know. He asked about her childhood, and if she knew her father, but her memory was poor. In the middle of a conversation about men, Bergerac burst in and words flew around the room in a language she did not understand. The two men grappled, and Bergerac was thrown across her bed, landing on the floor with a sickening groan. He lay unconscious in a crumpled heap, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The stranger turned and came toward her. She cowered expecting him to throw her too but he was calm and re-assuring. He took a stiletto from his belt and terrified, she froze, her eyes fixed on the thin blade. He smiled and cut a long trestle of her hair, and left. She would never forget it’s blue silver blade, with the black inscription, and the ornate ivory handle carved in the shape of a dragon.
She awoke startled, trying to remember his face but she could only recall seeing a dark shadow. She looked at where Bergerac had landed in her dream. She was relived to see he was not there, but looking closer at the floor, coldness gripped her and the hair on her neck bristled. A dark patch had stained the floorboards crimson - it wasn’t there yesterday.
Tarakan
