"The Vampire's Mistress" (closed)

[Tony2015]

"The Vampire's Mistress"

(closed)

I sit in silence. Not unusual. My life for so many years has been one of long periods of silence, only occasionally broken by the screams of my victims. I don't enjoy killing people. Hollywood. They -- or is it an it? -- is to blame for so many of the fallacies surrounding my kind. Most of us would never kill if we had the choice.

I watch as the woman in my bed stirs, then rises unsteadily. She will be weak for much of the rest of the day. Bad news is that I took more from her than I should have. Good news is that she has enough to still be breathing.

She rises to her knees, wobbling a bit in the middle of the wolf hide fur blanket...

https://38.media.tumblr.com/a44a555b869adc62ee68d32e682ff4d2/tumblr_nhv5mtQmPp1u7zz7to1_500.jpg​

I watch as she blinks her eyes, trying to regain focus, and -- finally having done so -- scanning the massive bed chamber. The estate was once a country estate for a Bavarian Prince, centuries ago when the land belonged to that Nation. So, the home is huge and elegant, with bed rooms larger than some entire homes in the country from which this woman originated.

How will she react? I wonder, when she learns that she is thousands of miles from home ... a prisoner ... sold into servitude ... servitude to a vampire?

https://38.media.tumblr.com/e22ae4caa28baf739129ae4ff0d5b8da/tumblr_ni1fudYTM41u7zz7to1_1280.jpg​

I wait until her gaze falls on me, then rise from my throne-like chair to begin crossing the room slowly. I wear a thick, full length black bear hide robe, the soft, thick collar or mink close to my neck and skull to preserve my warmth.

"My name is Ivan," I say softly. "Do not be afraid. You are in no danger here ... so long as you do what you are told ... and do not attempt to leave ... ever."

 

[heartofcourage]

Head pounding. Too much to drink the night before. I remember being out with friends at the pub...refusing the cab that had stopped for me as I stumbled home. What happened next? There were probably a dozen messages on my phone from my friends, telling me that I had been acting a fool and wondering if I were alright.

A soft groan left my lips as I pushed myself up from bed, my fingers curling around the place where my phone usually rested. A frown came easily as I discovered it wasn't there. Instead, my fingers were wrapped around soft fur. Fur? That certainly wasn't right. My comforter was soft and downy, but certainly not fur lined.

'Oh, Fiona, what happened last night?' I ask myself as I push up onto my knees, the room spinning in a sickening fashion as I quickly go back down to my original position.

Blinking twice, I suddenly realized that this wasn't my little flat on the east end of Dublin. This was somewhere new...unfamiliar...and I wasn't alone. A man was watching me from the corner of the room, seated in a chair and looking very comfortable with the entire situation. Had I been abducted? Where in the hell were my clothes? My keys? My phone? The little pink can of mace that I carried in my pocket?

Then he was talking. Don't be afraid? Well, thanks for trying to clear that up, mate. No danger. Don't leave...ever. This was one of those moments that I had always been warned about. A strange man had me in his home, trapped. My blue eyes must have shown that confusion even though I tried my hardest to not be afraid. It was all a misunderstanding.

"That's...uh...that's a pretty funny joke, but I think I'll be going now." I murmured, my voice shaking with nerves and weakness. "If you could...um...if you could just show me where my clothes are."

 

[Tony2015]

"If you could...um...if you could just show me where my clothes are."

"You have no clothes," I tell her. I study her expression for a moment, then clarify, "Your former wardrobe has been burned. I can not have the scent of the outside world within these walls."

I turn and head toward a pair of huge doors on the adjacent wall as I explain, "You will find every thing you could possibly need in here."

I push open the doors to reveal a massive walk in closet, perfectly organized. In it are hundreds of articles of clothing on hangers or in drawers, dozens of pairs of shoes filling the entire end wall of the space, and thousands of trinkets, adornments, and other accessories on hangers, in cubbies, or in drawers.

"I must apologize for the ... age of the wardrobe," I tell her, turning again and pacing slowly in a wide circle around the huge bed. I chuckle. "I'm afraid you won't find anything in here that isn't older than you yourself ... possibly twice as old as yourself."

I look at her incredible, naked body and contemplate the irony of covering that young, angelic figure with such antique things. "But ... retro is all the rage in Europe now, is it not?"

I spin on my hard soled boots and head for the tall doors at the other end of the room, ordering, "Please dress and come downstairs. Dinner is getting cold."

(OOC: Unless she says something to stop him, he will leave. I'll PM you the house's interior look in a moment.)

 

[heartofcourage]

"You burned my clothes?" I asked, a bit incredulous to the fact that he had said that so nonchalantly. "What gives you the right...?"

My words were cut off as he walked towards a set of doors and pulled them open, showing the large closet beyond. Everything I could have ever wanted or needed was there for the taking. Cocking my head to one side, I was still confused, wondering what the hell was going on. Where was I? What was I doing with this strange man?

I watched him warily as he paced around the bed, talking about the age of the wardrobe itself. Again, confusion was written on my face as his eyes flicked over my naked body. I could see appreciation there and...apprehension? Perhaps I was still simply asleep, dreaming and hung over. Any moment now, my phone would go off and I would wake up in my flat. Any moment...

I watched as he turned to leave, heading for the doors at the other end of the room as he ordered me to dress and come downstairs for dinner. "Wait. What is going on? Where am I?"

I hated the way my voice sounded then. It was tiny, scared, begging. I was not a weak willed woman but sitting there naked, sore, tired, and scared...it was overwhelming.

 

[Tony2015]

"Wait. What is going on? Where am I?"

I continue for the doors, my voice bouncing off the walls and overhead beams of the bedroom. "You are in my home ... in Romania ... where you will live ... where you will learn to serve my needs..."

I throw open the door, and turn to eye her body one last time. I finish, "...where you will give you all to me."

I stare for just a moment, but seeing her mouth open to speak, I spin and leave the room, ignoring her.



I stand in a tower window of my home, looking out into the blackness of a midnight snow storm. Hell. The world beyond these walls is a hell on days like this, which is precisely why I have continued to live here as long as I have.

Live. I don't know if that word applies to me. I've been dead ten times longer than I was ever alive to begin with. I descend the tower steps, then a second flight of stairs to the dining hall. A fire rages in the hearth, but standing near it does little to warm me. There is only one thing, of course, that will warm me.

"M'lord?"

I turn to find Agatha bowing slightly. She offers me a flagon of thick beer, tells me that dinner is being rewarmed and fresh vegetables and fruits cut. She asks in a soft voice, "Will m'lady be joining you for dinner?"

"Possibly," I answer. In my mind, I'm thinking If she doesn't throw on a thick fur and surge out into the storm, attempting her escape. But I say, "Prepare two plates, Aggie, then ... go to bed. It's late."

"Yes, m'lord," she says, again bowing before returning to the kitchen.

I stare into the fire for a long moment, then -- reminiscing about the man I was three centuries ago -- I open the bear hide fur robe to expose my body to the radiating heat of the fire. I'm not surprised, of course, when I feel no change to my body, naked with the exception of the almost knee high riding boots. I haven't enjoyed the warmth of a roaring fire since the Russians and Ottomans were fighting over the valleys surrounding my mountain top home.

I glance downward at the Family Jewels, hanging limb before me. I chuckle and think of my better than average sized cock, Good news is ... the cold doesn't cause you to shrink!

I laugh loudly and wrap my robe around my body again.

(OOC: Did she see me? Has she even come down? Your call. )

 

[heartofcourage]

His words almost didn't register in my addled brain. Romania? What kind of sick joke was this? As soon as he left the room, I was up and hurrying towards the window. Pulling aside the thick curtains, my jaw dropped to see the snow raging out in the darkened surroundings. Not Ireland...not Ireland at all.

My knees were shaking and I wasn't entirely sure if it was from fear or the bone numbing tiredness that threatened to send me back to the bed. Everything in this place was confusing. Beyond the snow, I could barely make out other turrets peeking through the storm. The place where I was looked enormous and old. Turning towards the open closet doors, Ivan's speech about the age of the wardrobe came back with startling reality. Why was he living in that strange place with a wardrobe full of out of date clothing?

Slowly, with legs that felt like lead leading the way, I entered the wardrobe to look around. There was clothing that looked straight out of the 70s, 60s, 50s...and down. He hadn't been joking, it seemed, when he mentioned the age of his closet. With a chill in the air, it was important to dress warmly...especially if there was any chance at escaping.

I pulled on a black velvet dress that looked like it was from the 40s. It hit just below the knee with short sleeves. It was modest, but it still felt as if everything were exposed. In fact, it still felt like Ivan's eyes were drawing across my naked form. The sight of his piercing gaze lingering was burned into my mind. Pulling down a black thick coat, it was a bit large on my small frame, but it provided warmth. That was all that mattered.

With a pair of sturdy black boots on my feet, I slowly made my way from the room and towards the sounds of distant voices in the cavernous space beyond. The stairs seemed almost endless, but soon, I found my way to a dining hall, Ivan standing in front of the fire chuckling to himself over some joke that was only in his mind.

 

[Tony2015]

If I'd been a run of the mill, warm blooded man, I likely would have blushed at the sight of my guest. I can't be sure whether or not she'd seen my checking out what some today would have called my package or my junk, but she didn't seem to react in a way I would have expected. I decide to let it be, turning as I fasten the oversized buttons to keep the coat closed.

"Please ... sit," I say as I gesture to the table. "Dinner is being warmed."

I move to one end of the table and pull out a chair for her. After three centuries, chivalry is as much a part of me as retractable fangs. "I wish to explain your situation ... and ... apologize for any ... let's call them inconveniences that you might face in the days to come."

I move to the other end of the table, but I don't sit. Instead, I stand tall and explain, "My name is Count Ivan Yuri Ivanovich. This..." I wave my hand like to one side, continuing, "...is my home. And ... it is now your home."

 

[heartofcourage]

I should have run screaming into the night. There wouldn't have been a person in the world that would have blamed me for freezing to death in the snow rather than stay there in the strange vortex that was Ivan's home. There was something that kept me rooted though, almost demanding to hear him out as he explained that dinner was being warmed.

I moved to the chair that he held out, sitting in it as he pushed it up close to the table. I let out a tired sigh, my head spinning in a sickening way that made me pause, suck in a cool breath of air, before slowly letting it out. If I threw up on the table from the sudden rolling of my belly it would certainly be embarrassing. Struggling so hard to keep it together, I tried to listen to what he was telling me. Perhaps he was going to give me answers to the questions that I so desperately needed answered.

"My home is a shitty little flat in Dublin." I said, looking at him as the dizzy feeling in my head slowly subsided. "I could care less who you are. I want to know how I ended up here and how you're going to get me back home. I will call the cops if I have to."

 

[Tony2015]

Agatha appears to my left, pushing a cart with a squeaky wheel. She reaches the table, serving my guest first. The spread is quite astonishing, I think, hoping she will find something she likes. There are three different kinds of meat -- venison, pork, and turkey -- a dozen vegetables, two different styles of potatoes, two pasta dishes, and more.

"Wine!" I call. A moment later, a second member of the household staff -- Kurn, a boy of just 14 with a slight limp -- hurries out from the kitchen, moving to my end to pour me a glass of thick red. I taste it, nod approvingly, and nod-gesture him to my guest as I ask, "Forgive my manners, but I am afraid I do not know your name ... unless you want me to call you what the Lot Number note said ... Irish Female #4"

After she replies, I tend to her questions as best I can. It is obvious as I speak that they are not the answers for which she'd hoped.

"This is your new home. This ... shitty home of which you speak ... will be but a bad memory for you. You will have the full run of the house ... well, except for a few restricted room ... and, once Mother Nature allows it, you will have access to the patios, gardens, orchards..."

I make a so on and such forth gesture with one hand, then continue. "As far as the policing authority in this region, I fear you will not like this, but ... I am the policing authority in this region. No ... how did you say it...? Cop? No cop will ever come to this place. Not because I don't allow it, but ... simply ... because they fear coming here."

 

[heartofcourage]

I was surprised when a woman appeared with a cart of food, placing a large amount of dishes in front of me. My traitorous stomach growled in hunger, announcing to everyone that it had been a while since I had last eaten. My bowl of pasta before going out to the pub didn't last long, it seemed. Had that been last night? The night before? I had lost track of my days all together.

I jumped as Ivan called out for wine, watching as another person, this time a boy, came running from the kitchen to pour the ordered drink. I wanted to reach out for the food, but I felt rooted to my spot. I was frightened and most of all confused. He didn't know my name and he mentioned that I had been a lot number.

"A lot number?" I blurted out, my brow furrowing as he said Irish Female #4. "You picked me up off the street in Dublin. You had to have. I didn't get in the cab and I was walking home. That's the last thing I remember..."

Again he started talking about his home and it was enough to make me want to cry. He wasn't listening. I would be leaving there just as soon as I could get my legs to work again. It was obvious that the cops would be no help as he insisted that they would not come to this place. Perhaps the servants that had just left the room could help me in some way.

"I don't understand..."

 

[Tony2015]

"I don't understand..."

"I see that," I say with a sympathetic voice. I notice that she isn't eating. "Please. Eat. You haven't had nutrition in three days, and I--"

I stop before I finish the thought, And I took almost two quarts of blood from you. She will come to understand that my feeding from her is to be a normal part of her existence here, but ... not just yet.

"Please, eat ... drink ... and I will tell you all you need to know."

I stand again, finding it hard to speak of such weighty things while sitting at the table with food spread out before me. I move a few steps to my left, look at her, then return to stand behind my chair.

"I purchased you," I say bluntly. "After being drugged, you were taken by car, boat, then plane to a slave market in Poland. I purchased you, and you were brought here. You now belong to me."

I give her a moment to digest this incredible story, then -- as if I hadn't just told her that she was a victim of white slavery -- I politely smiled and pointed out, "You still have not told me your name ... Irish Female #4."

 

[heartofcourage]

Three days. It had been three days since I had been out with my friends. Were they worried? Did they even miss me? I had no family that would care about me being gone for a year, let alone three days. All of that suddenly made me realize just how sad my life was.

Yet, there was this man, telling me to eat. He sounded sympathetic and concerned for my well being. It could have all been a trick, I thought to myself as I finally pulled some of the venison and vegetables onto my plate, my hand shaking with a little fear. Or it could have been the exhaustion that was pressing in on me from all directions.

It didn't matter, I thought, as I brought a fork to my lips. The food was delicious, but I didn't stop to really taste it. As soon as that first bite hit my tongue, I was soon shoveling in another and then another and then another. All thoughts of polite decorum were out the window as my hunger ruled my body. I was starving, my body begging for things that I couldn't name.

Then...the announcenement came...

He had bought me at an auction in Poland. The fork dropped from my hand, the food in my mouth swallowed heavily as my hunger magically disappeared. I had been auctioned off. That kind of thing only happened in movies though...right? What kind of monster would buy another human being from an auction?

My stomach suddenly heaved violently and I swallowed hard again, struggling not to lose what had so recently ended up in my belly. Ivan's voice was soft, a smile on his face as he asked for my name yet again. I wanted to be stubborn and not give it to him. Screw him for buying me and bringing me to this God forsaken place. It was all false courage though as tears gathered on my lashes and slowly fell down my cheeks.

"Fiona." I whispered in a voice that was so incredibly small. "Hennessy."

 

[Tony2015]

"Fiona," she whispered. "Hennessy."

It was a beautiful name, and I would have told her so. But I could see that the emotion of the situation was simply too much for her. I called out, "Boy!"

Kurn, who was never out of ear shot when he was on duty -- which was any time that I was in the home -- hurried out from the kitchen. As he was still making his way toward me, I ordered, "Help our guest back to her room. Tend to her needs ... stoke the fire ... water, food ... anything she asks for."

"Yes, m'lord," Kurn said, already grasping Fiona's chair in anticipation of her sliding it out to stand. He said in a meek voice, "M'lady...?"

Agatha had been close behind Kurn, although her age doubled her travel time to the table. She didn't need an order, and immediately began putting together a plate of dinner, including a little bit of everything present.

"We will talk more once you have rested ... Fiona."

 

[heartofcourage]

I hate to cry. Ever since my Ma and Da died when I was six, I've hated showing people that I was weak by crying. This was just too much though. The thought that I could be bought and whisked away from my safe little life was heart breaking. This man...this strange man, held so much of the power in our new relationship. He had paid money for me and now I was trapped with him in the middle of nowhere in the middle of a snowstorm.

Suddenly he was calling for the boy that had poured his wine, giving him instructions to take me back to the room. I wiped at my eyes with the sleeves of my coat, sniffling as he slipped the chair back and I stood. The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, my eyes glancing from the boy to the woman that was making a dinner plate to Ivan. He wanted me to rest. I didn't need rest....I needed to go home.

There was nothing to do but nod, turning slowly to trudge back up to the room where I had first awoke. The boy led the way dutifully, opening the door to the large chamber when we finally arrived. I didn't even watching as he stoked the fire and worked on his tasks. I climbed into the bed, not bothering to undress, as I pulled the thick wolf fur over my body.

It wasn't until the boy left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, that I finally felt safe. And then...only then...did I sob out my heart into the pillow until sleep finally claimed my weary mind and body.

 

[Tony2015]

"Fiona..."

"Fiona...?"

As my guest, my slave, my nourishment opened her eyes and looked up into my face, I smiled politely and said, "Wake up, Fiona. You need to eat ...drink some water."

She'd passed out for yet another 18 hours. The floor to ceiling drapes were pulled open, flooding the room with the bright light of a clear sky and a snow covered world. I stood from the edge of the bed -- now dressed in slacks and a dinner jacket -- and looked down upon her, and said, "You need food. Please ...come join me."

At the little table, yet another huge spread of food and drink was arranged. I stood there, waiting for her to dress ...for she was again naked below the wolf hide blanket.

When she became aware of her nudity, I explained, "You were milling about ...seemingly so uncomfortable. I've seen you naked already, so I assumed you wouldn't mind."

 

[heartofcourage]

The sound of his voice floating into my dreams told me that what I had hoped was a hallucination was anything but that. My brow furrowed, the fingers pressed against my lips tightened into a ball as I slowly opened my eyes and stared up into Ivan's smiling face. He was trying to entice me to eat and drink some water. My mouth was dry and I desperately wanted a cup of some cool liquid.

The sun was out behind him, the room was bright as the clear blue sky gave way to the snowy wonderland below her window. It should have been awe inspiring, but I was too depressed to see it for the beautiful sight that it was. Stirring beneath the wolf skin, I frowned upon realizing that I was naked. He explained that he had removed my dress and coat, assuming that I wouldn't mind.

I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, to simply tell him to go away. No one ever won a battle by being stubborn to the point of harming one's self though. I had always been scrappy to survive and it seemed that this situation was no different.

"Could you get me a dressing gown? And a pair of slippers?" I asked softly. "My toes are cold."

 

[Tony2015]

"Of course," I say with a slight chuckle.

It seems to obvious to me that Fiona should simply rise, naked, and cross the cold room before me to gather clothing. I've seen her naked already. I've had liberties with her body that she is wholly unaware of and -- if she were aware -- would not believe could be true anyway. Why shouldn't she just stand up in her bare glory and walk across the room before this stranger who has claimed to own her?

I go to the closet and easily find what I think she wants. When I return, I neatly lay out three styles of bra and panty sets, each pair shifting between the two extremes of simply comfortable and very sexy; a couple of warm tees, one cropped and one full length; and two pairs of full length, winter pajamas, one with a pull over top and another with a button up front.

"They will fit you," I say confidently. I look at Fiona, with the fur pulled up to her body, hiding it. I hesitate to say it, fearing I will only disturb her more, but then explain, "You were purchased to fit the clothes. The clothes were not purchased to fit you."

I return to the closet, find a couple of different styles of slippers and a night cap. I smile, looking at the head wear and wondering In which last century did a woman ever don such an item. I put it back on the rack and return with the foot wear instead...

(OOC: I stop where I do because I don't know if she will have said something, gotten out of bed, or simply remained where she is. Feel free to move me away or even out of the room to dress.)

 

[heartofcourage]

I watched as he stepped away from the bed, gathering clothing by the handful. More than a dressing gown was what was spread out on the bed next to me as he confidently told me that I had been purchased to fit the clothing. None of the items had been purchased for me. I guess there were good things about being a busty, slender Irish woman.

When he walked back to the closet for a pair of slippers, I reached out to pull on a sensible pair of underwear and the matching bra. Only then did I push the fur blanket away. There was something about the way that he looked at me, expecting me to expose myself to him It was true that he had probably done all manner of things to me when I was asleep, but that didn't mean that I was about to prance around in the nude for this stranger.

I was soon pulling on the long tee and a black pair of the winter pajamas. I instantly felt warmer as the matching top to the pajamas were pulled on a buttoned up as well. It was still hard to imagine that days had passed since I had been out drinking with my friends. That thought made my stomach hurt in the most excruciating way.

"If I'm suppose to stay here with you until you tire of me, can I at least ask you to retrieve some of my things from Dublin? There are a few items in my flat that have a lot of sentimental value to me." I called into the closet where Ivan was searching out a pair of slippers so that they could go to the meal.

 

[Tony2015]

"If I'm suppose to stay here with you until you tire of me," she asks, "can I at least ask you to retrieve some of my things from Dublin? There are a few items in my flat that have a lot of sentimental value to me."

I emerge with the last of her necessary items, setting them on the bed near her. Even dressed in the loose sleeping and lounging wear, I detect -- and appreciate -- her womanly curves. I say simply, "Yes."

I turn and cross to the table filled with food and drink, continuing, "You should probably be aware of..."

I turn, a glass of grape juice in my hands, to look at her, then walk to the big window and look out upon the bright world before me. It is only because I fed up Fiona three, and then again two days ago that I can stand here in the light of day without succumbing to intense pain. Hollywood at least got that one right, I think to myself, continuing the thought, sort of, anyway.

"You need to know what your duties here in my home will be, Fiona," I tell her, turning to face her. I see her squint at the bright light behind me and move away from the windows, close to the end of the bed. "You will be my companion firstly. I have functions -- not often, but occasionally -- to which you will accompany me. You will conduct yourself in a manner that implies willingness ... even delight ... at being by my side."

I study her expression to my explanation for a moment, knowing that I am essentially telling her You are a prisoner but you won't act like one in public. I continue, "Here in the home, your role will be of a more ... intimate nature. As you have already likely feared, you are to be my lover. You will learn what pleases me, and you will undertake the endeavor of satisfying me on command. You will come to enjoy our acts of intimacy as time goes on."

Again, I hesitate to study her reaction to You will part your legs and lips to me and like it.

"And..."

I hesitate. It's been decades since I spoke of the next duty to a woman. For longer than I can remember, I have survived by draining my victims of their life force all at once, not taking a little here, a little there to maintain my strength until the next feeding. I am tired of killing. Not only that, but it is becoming harder with each passing year to hide my killing. It's a new age, with cameras every where, location implants under the skin, social networking making disappearances world wide news in an instant.

"You will supply me your life force when the need arises," I say, waiting to see if she has a clue as to what I am saying. I cock my head and study her reaction, then clarify, "Fiona ... I am a vampire ... and I will continue to need to feed from your body as I have during your unconscious time with me."

I reach an arm out and turn its underside upright, as if preparing to have my own blood drawn. I point to the inside of my upper arm, to the brachial artery through which my and Fiona's blood flows.

"If you look," I explain, "you will find the evidence of my first feedings. As you can tell, they are already well healed."

 

[heartofcourage]

Turning from the window as he reentered the room, I was surprised to hear him agree to get my things from my flat. I had expected a fight or at least a simple no. It made me feel better knowing that I would have what I treasured most there with me.

Moving across the room to where he placed the slippers, i picked up a pair and put them on, my toes instantly curling into the luxurious material. It was at that time that he started talking again, picking up a glass of grape juice from the table before returning to my side at the window.

"You had to buy someone at an auction to do that for you?" I commented, my arms folding across my chest as he talked about escorting him to functions. "Why not just go out and get a girlfriend?"

My mouth had gotten me in trouble more times than I cared to admit. Sometimes I could keep it in check, but most of of the time I found it hard to really bite it before I spoke. My brain would run away from me, leaving everyone in an awkward situation.

Then he was talking about pleasuring him, being his lover. Fat chance of that, buddy. What he was talking about amounted to kidnap and rape. I didn't want anything to do with him intimately. This asshole had bought me from an auction, taking me away from my home, made me a virtual prisoner, and expected me to be happy about it? What kind of world did he live in?

"Again, if you wanted someone to fuck you willingly and with a smile on their face, why not get a girlfriend? It probably would have saved you a lot of money in the long run." I heard myself saying, the anger that I was feeling filled my voice before he dropped his next bombshell.

"A vampire?" My voice was incredulous as he made that statement, telling me to take a look at the evidence for myself. "What kind of sick fuck are you? First off, you've kidnapped me. No...not just that...you BOUGHT me. How can you buy someone? What kind of person does that make you?"

I had always been a person quick to anger, the words spewing forth before I could stop them. "Second, no, I'm not going to be all rainbows and sunshine when you take me out in public. I'll scream my head off until someone arrests you. And third...if you come near me or try and bite me, I will fight you for all that I'm worth."

Mentally, I was asking myself if I could get to the door and downstairs before him. He stood between me and escape, near enough to the table that I didn't think I could get past. The closet, perhaps? I could lock myself in there...and then what?

 

[Tony2015]

I expect the anger, of course. If she hadn't become angry at my unreasonable and wholly inappropriate demands, then I would have been suspicious of her calmness. But when she hardly flinched at the talk of vampires and blood and bites, I knew that she doubted the reality of her true situation.

"You will be civil and in high spirits in public," I say softly as I begin to walk slowly towards her, "And you will be a willing partner to me in bed..."

I am about two yards from her when I add, "And you will provide me with what I need to survive--"

In a flash -- so quickly that Fiona is only able to flinch in surprise -- I am on her. One arm reaches around her body and arm to clasp the back of her head, fingers intertwined in her hair; while the other reaches to the small of her back, pulling our lower bodies hard together. I pull her head to one side, exposing her neck but still allowing her eyes to see up into my face.

With a hissing tone that -- once again -- Hollywood got right in so many of their blood sucker films, I open my mouth wide, revealing the extended fangs, and say, "Or I will drain you dry and feed you to the wolves not already decorating my bed!"

With that, I sink my fangs into her neck. I press my lips tightly to her flesh, extract the monstrous canines, and -- with the great moan one might emit after tasting the world's best chocolate -- feel my mouth flood with blood. I clutch her twitching body tightly to me, in total control over her. Fight she might, but it will be of no use. When feeding, I am stronger than any human male with whom Fiona might ever entangle arms and legs.

The taste is divine, and the surge of power within me overwhelming ... or ... almost so. I can not kill this woman. I can not drain her entirely, despite the fact that doing so would allow me to live for several months without feeding again. I have invested too much in Fiona to simply end her life here and now. And then, of course, there is simply the issue of wanting a different life ... one of no killing and -- likely a fantasy -- having a woman who will share herself with me willingly.

I swallow the single mouthful of her blood, then press the insides of my lips to the four wounds. A few seconds later, the anticoagulants in my saliva seal the wounds and -- already -- begin the process of repairing the damage I've done. In four of five days, there will be evidence at all of this horrific thing I have done to her.

Somewhere during the thirty, forty, fifty seconds of feeding upon Fiona she has gone totally limp in my hands. I hold her above the floor as easily as I would hold a small child. I lick at her neck, removing the last of the blood, then swoop her up in my arms and take her to the bed.

She is fully conscious, staring at me with wide opened eyes. But the chemicals with which my bite has affected her have left her without muscles control. I lay her out atop the wolf furs. In the struggle, the buttons highest on her pajama tops have come loose or popped free, exposing one supple breast and its hardened nipple.

My cock begins to come to life as I imagine having her, here and now. Fiona doesn't know that I haven't yet violated her in that way, though I wouldn't be surprised if she suspects I have. Will she ever let me have her willingly? I wonder. Should I just take her now?

 

[heartofcourage]

He took a step forward, talking in a soft voice that seemed to be at odds with the tense way he held his body. I started to eye those closet doors, thinking that my best option would be to lock myself inside and wait for his anger to subside. I took a step back towards the windows as he stalked forward. When he paused, I stopped, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. It was so loud, I could hear my pulse in my ears.

I was unprepared for him to move so quickly. It was a blur, my muscles flinching as Ivan suddenly had me trapped in his arms. His fingers were twined in my loose hair, jerking my head to the side painfully as the other pressed me hard against his lower body. How had he moved so fast, I asked myself, my eyes wide as he hissed and opened his mouth wide.

"No..." It was all I could really say as he revealed sharp fangs that hadn't been there moments before, his voice frightening as it rang loudly in my ears.

I planted my hands hard against his chest, struggling to shove him back. It was like pushing against a brick wall. Then he was leaning forward, his teeth sinking deeply into my throat. I let out a scream, struggling to twist out of his grasp. My scream sounded strangled and strange in my own ears as his lips sealed over the wounds and he started to pull deeply.

The heart that had been pounding so loudly in my ears was slowing, my vision growing darker as I started to loose coordination. My muscles felt heavy, my arms falling limply to my sides as a numbness washed over me. My mind was still racing, but it was as if my body had simply given up. It was only his arms holding me upright as the sucking of his mouth sounded loudly in my ears.

I was incredibly frightened as he licked my throat, sealing the wounds he had created and carrying me over to the bed. I wanted to speak, but the ability was long gone. I could only whimper like a wounded animal as I looked up at him. It was even hard to blink.

'Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me.' I was thinking that over and over again as he continued to stare down at me with an unnamed look upon his features.

 

[Tony2015]

The lust that I've developed for Fiona starting with the moment I'd first seen Irish Woman #4's picture is building, strengthened by the surge of her life force in my veins. I know it isn't right, but I find myself unbuckling my pants and letting them fall to the floor as I move onto loosing the buttons of my shirt.

I look into Fiona's eyes, and her fear -- her panic -- is clear. But I can't help myself. If I don't have her in a manly way, I am going to have her in an inhumanly way, which will leave me having to dispose of a corpse for which I've both paid a great deal of money and made long term plans.

By the time I slip my boxers from my hips, standing before her naked, my cock is fully hardened and standing out before me like a flag staff on parade. I crawl onto the bed, moving Fiona's legs apart. I see her body twitch -- her torso, then a leg, then an arm -- and I know that her temporary paralysis was waning. By the time I am entering her, she will have full use of her body, though she won't have the strength to stop me.

I reach to her pajama top and jerk at its lapels, pulling it easily open to reveal the comfortable brassiere she'd chosen. I reach to her pajama bottoms, pulling the waist line down with one hand just enough to allow me to grab the crotch with the other without catching her panties or her flesh. With the sharp nails of both hands, I easily rip apart the fabric at the meeting of her thighs.

I stare at the panties covering her folds and ask myself whether this is best. I look to her neck -- to the wounds -- and know that if I don't fuck her, I'll devour her. I look to her eyes, and as I lower myself to between her thighs, I say with a sincere tone, "Forgive me, Fiona."

(OOC: She'll have body control by now.)

 

[heartofcourage]

The sight of him unbuckling his pants was almost my undoing. I knew what he was about to do then and I wasn't sure if my mind could take that. He was handsome, yes, but I didn't want him touching me. I never wanted to see him again in my life. I wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare and be at home and safe in my bed.

When he slipped his boxers free from his body, I could see his cock was hard and standing proudly. Hell, HE was standing proudly, completely comfortable in his own skin as he moved onto the bed and pushed my legs apart. I realized then that my control was coming back. My legs would flex, my arms flopped a bit uselessly, but it was all coming back.

"Ivan...no..." I managed to slur out between numb lips as he jerked my pajama top apart, the buttons scattering around the room before he pulled my pajama bottoms down.

The tearing of fabric filled the air around me as he made quick work of them, leaving me in the underwear that I had just put on. I could feel my hands moving to cover my breasts from his gaze, the other moving to cup my mound in an attempt to keep him from doing what he was about to do.

Then he was resting his heavy weight against my body, settling against the cradle of my hips, as he whispered in a sincere tone for forgiveness. I didn't ever want to forgive him and the tears that were thick against my lashes told him that. I turned my gaze towards his own, my lips trembling with unshed tears.

"Please don't." I could hear myself whisper as I felt his hard cock pressing against my fingers and panties as if seeking the warmth of my body. "Just leave. Please."

 

[Tony2015]

"Please don't," I hear her whisper as I reach for her lower placed hand and easily pull it -- and her panties -- aside. I feel the warmth and wetness of her pussy against the back of my fingers, and I only want her more as she continues her whispering, "Just leave. Please."

"I don't know that I can," I whisper back, almost pleading as if she herself can stop me. "If I don't do this ... if I don't take you like a man ... I make take you like the monster I am."

It wasn't often that I thought of myself like that. Deep down, I knew I was a monster. I killed people in order to live. Even the most uneducated people knew what a psychopath was, and for 300 plus years, I had been one. But I'd come to accept what I was, and -- as I'd hoped with the purchase of Fiona -- I did, at times, attempt to do the right thing and reign in the terror of which I was easily capable.

"I have to know that you will be mine," I continued, desperate for Fiona to surrender to me before I destroyed any possibility of us ever being the Vampiric version of a happy couple. My volume was rising, and my tone was becoming demanding as I insisted, "I must know now! Can you be mine ... as I need you to be?"

As I'd been talking, I'd also been pressing the sensitive underside of my shaft against her wetness and warmth, desperate for the feel of her yet at the same time trying to keep myself from penetrating her ... from intruding upon her ... from ravaging her...