STORY: In the Vampire's Lair - MMM/f, BDSM, MIND, NC, OCCULT
John Simmons
and confident, but drifting in life, uncertain of what direction to
take. In an instant, her life is changed forever. She catches the eye of
an immortal being, a creature with a man's appetite and a demon's power.
After being publicly violated, mentally and physically, forced to
experience almost unendurable pleasure whilst being humiliated and used,
she is left for dead, all but drained of life. Yet she is rescued by
another immortal being, by the only way he knows how. Changed forever,
Samantha becomes a girl of stunning beauty and uncontrollable passion,
whose very scent causes mortal men to go feverish with lust. A sexual
toy, she is used, abused, and tormented by creatures out of legends and
nightmares. Only the awakening of her own power can save her from being
a slave to the Vampire's Lair - forever.
"Raise your right hand a bit. More."
Tanko nodded and moved behind her, his foot pushing against her instep
to shift her right foot a little further back.
"Now," he said, "feel your centre. Set yourself and your balance. Calm
your mind. See the target."
The target, Sam knew, was not the board facing her. It was the opposite
side of the board. One did not hit the object before one, but focussed
on a point an inch or two beyond that object."
"Strike!"
She yelled as her right hand snapped forward and cracked through the
board Jillian was holding. The pieces dropped on the floor and she
fought to repress a grin as she turned and bowed to Tanko.
"Good," he said, his face expressionless. "Again."
Jillian held up another board, and Samantha repositioned herself, her
right side to the board, drawing in a deep breath and focussing. Then
she launched a side kick which slammed through the board and almost
unbalanced her as the pieces fell away.
"Good," he said again. "You will be ready for next weekend. You will
test for your next level."
"Yes, Sensei," she said, bowing deeply.
He bowed back, not nearly so deeply
She turned as he walked away and Jillian's grin fed her own.
"Congratulations, Brucey Lee," she teased.
"You'll get it. I started before you"
"It's those long arms and legs of yours," Jill said, following her
towards the locker room. In fact, if anything, her long arms and legs
had made it more difficult, for she had not been exactly graceful in her
movements at the start. It had taken a lot of practice before she had
been able to move with the speed and fluidity Tanko demanded.
"You're not exactly short yourself," she said.
Jill was five foot ten, tall for a woman, but still well short of
Samantha's own six, two. She felt a mild tension as the woman followed
her into the locker room. Jillian was thirty one, and a very good
sparring partner. Or had been before Sam had gotten her first dan black.
Now she was just not good enough, and especially, too slow. She had the
enthusiasm but not the patience. She was good humoured, though, and easy
to talk to. And it didn't bother her that the woman was a lesbian, even
a butch lesbian. But though she had had a few fantasies about females
she was, more or less, a confirmed heterosexual herself. And even if she
did give in and experiment it wouldn't be with a woman like Jillian.
It wasn't that she was bad looking, not exactly. But Jillian was almost
the stereotypical butch dyke. She had taken up weightlifting before
getting involved in Judo, and had wide shoulders and thickly muscled
arms. Master Tanko had said these were the main reasons for her slow
progress, as the kind of muscles she had developed were not right for
the speed and dexterity required of the martial arts. That was why she
still wore her brown belt and Samantha would test next weekend for her
second level black.
Jill had very short dark hair, almost a crew cut, and Sam didn't even
like that look in men, much less women. She wore no makeup or perfume,
and had a large tattoo on her right bicep. She was also stridently
anti-male, which grew tiresome whenever the conversation wandered that
way. But for the most part she was pleasant company when Sam was
training. Even her constant flirting and sexual teasing were easy to
take. But Sam had long made her lack of interest known and yet Jillian
persisted in believing she could somehow either seduce or challenge her
into bed if she just kept trying.
She had not been at the dojo long enough to be going home, but was
leaving early, Sam was sure, so she could shower with her, so she could
see her naked and have another opportunity to try and seduce her. It was
- wearying, and a little irritating. Besides, she was only twenty one
herself and more than a bit young for the woman.
Unfortunately, Jillian had a thing for red hair, and Sam's red hair was
a lion's mane of loose, dark, coppery ringlets spilling down her head
and across her shoulders. She had latched onto her the moment she'd seen
her and simply wouldn't give up.
"What you doin' tonight? Working again?" she asked as she leaned against
the locker. Sam nodded and opened the locker, then undid her belt and
opened her gi, slipping it off her shoulders and onto the hook inside
the locker. She undid the string holding her trousers up and slipped
them down her legs, aware as she did so that Jillian's eyes were
drinking her in. She felt a little strange at that. On the one hand it
was like teasing the woman, but on the other hand she could hardly avoid
showering after a long workout, not when she had to work later. A part
of her liked being admired, being lusted after, being wanted, yet it
made her uncomfortable knowing Jill wanted her, almost as though she had
an obligation to give herself to the woman and was being unfair by not
doing so.
"Stop staring at me," she sighed, peeling her sports bra up and off. "If
I can't touch you I can at least look," Jillian said. "It makes me feel
strange," Sam said, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her bikini
briefs and sliding them down and off.
"I could make you feel so much stranger," Jill said with a teasing leer
which dropped her eyes to Sam's shaven sex.
Sam took up her things and padded naked into the nearby shower room. She
was not the least surprised that Jillian soon followed. It was an open
concept room, with showerheads protruding from the otherwise blank tiled
wall.
She stood next to one and reached forward, turning on the water and
setting the temperature
"Aren't you going to undo your hair? It will smell sweaty if you don't
wash it."
She had left it tied behind her purposefully, but she sighed silently,
for she knew Jillian was right. And besides, it did no good to try to
discourage her. She reached up and slipped off the band, shaking her
head to free her coppery hair, knowing as she did so that Jillian was
drinking her in. "God, you're gorgeous," the woman sighed.
"Jillian," she said protestingly.
"Sorry. I know. You're reserved for people with large cocks."
"Don't be spiteful."
Jillian sighed and nodded. "Sorry."
Sam stepped beneath the water and let it wash over her. Jillian did the
same, more slowly, eyes seldom leaving Sam for long. It made her feel a
little like an exhibitionist and a tease and though she would never
admit it to Jill, aroused her somewhat. Yet again she told herself there
was little she could do about it. Yet she still felt a little guilty,
especially since - honestly - she liked it. Well and who wouldn't feel a
little pride about having someone praise her looks so constantly, so
admiringly?
She soaped herself up, trying to do it as clinically, as chastely, as
quickly as possible, turning as much as possible away from Jillian as
she moved her soapy hands over her body.
"Want me to do your back?"
"No."
"Come on," Jillian begged, only half teasing.
"No."
"I won't touch any of the naughty bits."
"That's what you said last time."
"I apologised for that."
"Once bitten, twice shy."
"I hardly bit you at all. It was more like a little nibble."
"You squeezed my tits, Jillian."
"But they're such bloody marvellous tits," Jillian protested.
Again Sam felt that little swell of pride, and the accompanying guilt.
"No. It just gives you ideas."
Jillian laughed. I've no lack of ideas for you, sweetie."
"I mean it let's you think you have chance with me and you don't."
"So you keep telling me."
"I can't help my sexual orientation," she said, knowing it was a lock
solid argument a gay woman couldn't possibly challenge.
Jillian didn't try to, only snorted.
Jillian finished at about the same time - of course, and followed her
back into the locker room as they dried themselves off. Sam kept the
large towel wrapped fully around her torso as she did a quick blow dry
job on her hair. Jillian was ostentatiously nude as she rubbed herself
dry, then moved to the mirror as if examining her face. As she had no
hair to dry, really, and no makeup to examine it was clearly just
another move to be near her, and Sam ignored her.
She dressed quickly, pulling on a lacy, dark blue thong and matching
french half bra. They came from her employer, the lingerie store Tease,
where she worked. The discount she got there, and the lovely lingerie
she could wear, were primarily responsible for her having shaved her sex
some months back. Nothing looked more gross, Mrs. Jennings, the manager,
had told her, than stray pubic hairs sticking out from a high cut little
bikini, thong or G-string. And that was certainly true.
She pulled on a blue button down silk shirt. It was tight across her
ample chest, with a high collar. She would leave the top two buttons
undone at work so customers could see the centre of her lacy bra. Mrs.
Jennings liked her staff to be advertisements for her wares.
She slipped on a short, tight black wool mini and brushed out her hair a
final time.
"Very sexy," Jillian said, wearing loose jeans and T-shirt.
"Thank you," Sam said with a pleasant smile.
She slipped on the heavy, full length leather jacket, stuffed her gear
into a black leather bag, and closed the locker as she headed out of the
room, saying a casual goodbye to Jill as she let her long legs stride
across the dojo floor in a way which had little relation to the
"gliding" Master Tanko had tried to show her.
Once outside she trotted down the stairs and up the pavement towards the
tube station. If she were late again Mrs. Jennings would have kittens.
Though Sam doubted she would find anyone better for a long evening shift
than she was.
There was equality in hiring, naturally, but though it was never said,
though it was, she supposed, probably against equal employment laws,
Tease would not hire men, nor older women, nor minorities, nor a young
girl, a giggler type, nor a girl who didn't look - well, like she could
be wearing the lingerie carried at Tease. The girl also had to have a
certain sophistication. Tease didn't want low class chatterers from the
East end. It wanted girls with a little poise, who spoke the Queen's
English. Their lingerie was high priced, high quality, and so were their
customers.
It paid a premium for that, but it was still quite difficult to get the
right girls and to keep them, especially for an evening position,
especially in the City.
Samantha had worked the evening shift almost three months now, and
rather enjoyed it, but was under no illusions about it being more than a
stepping stone to something better. With her looks she could find
employment elsewhere any time she wanted. She worked at Tease because
she wasn't interested in anything complicated just then. She'd dropped
out of college after two years of law, deciding it simply wasn't for
her, and needed a little down time to decide on her future.
She knew one thing: it wouldn't be in law. She did not want to spend the
next decade going squinty eyed as she pored over dusty law books
researching points and precedents for the even dustier old men who made
up most of the top hierarchy of the major legal firms.
For now, working at Tease gave her enough to get by on, enabled her to
trot over to the best downtown parties and clubs for midnight partying,
and then sleep in the next morning. It was a life without complications,
without stress, without pressure. After the round the clock studying at
Oxford she needed the rest.
There were a lot of people around her in the station, and she knew more
than a few eyes were cast her way. She was not self conscious. She was
well used to being looked at, and had been since she'd started sprouting
up - and out - at eleven. She had a model's good looks, with high
cheekbones, a short, aristocratic nose, full lips perfect teeth, and
bright, jade green eyes. Even without her height, even without her
flaming hair, she would have been "noticeable" enough to draw eyes
wherever she went.
The train arrived and she hurried to the doors and in, clutching her
shoulder bag. It was the tail end of rush hour and there was nowhere to
sit, so she took one of the centre poles and wrapped her arm around it
as others hurried on around her. Then she noticed there was, in fact a
free seat, even still, with people crowding on. She thought that odd
until she saw the man in the next seat.
A perfectly normal man in a perfectly normal, if somewhat dated dark
suit. Perfectly normal.
She turned her eyes away from him uncomfortably, then flitted them back.
Perfectly normal, but - she felt a little shiver run up her spine for
some reason, and turned her eyes away again. The train started moving,
and the car was crowded, but there was still no one sitting in the empty
seat. There was something about the man, something which made the hair
on the back of her neck stand on end.
She looked again, and the man's eyes met hers. She felt herself frozen
for long seconds, felt breathless. A shocked fear rolled through her,
and then she jerked her eyes away. Weird!
There was a man's hand between her legs.
She looked down in shock, staring, unable to comprehend it at first. The
man's hand was well up beneath her skirt, stroking her inner thigh just
below where her thong was pulled tight over her pussy. She hadn't even
felt it, for some reason. But she could feel it now, and could feel a
thrumming heat in her tummy as she stared down at it.
Where had it come from and why hadn't she felt it and... why wasn't she
doing something about it?
She felt a little dazed and raised her eyes. There was a man next to
her, a man with a rough look to him, dark curly hair and a t-shirt. He
was chatting with another man, not even looking at her, not paying
attention. But his hand was under her skirt and caressing her skin with
the most - incredible gentleness, coasting lightly along her flesh and
leaving a trail of burning nerve endings behind.
His fingers slid up against her pussy and began to rub her through her
thin silken panties. She did not, for some reason, find this shocking.
Her arousal deepened and she gripped the pole with both hands as the
train rolled along. No one seemed to have noticed, but she didn't really
care about that either. She shuddered as the man's fingers traced a line
along the border of her thong. Then one eased lightly inside and rubbed
lightly at her soft, warm flesh.
The finger tugged on the crotch of her thong, pulling it aside, baring
her soft mons. He had the skirt up high, now, and his hand was moving
freely as his fingers caressed her smoothly shaven pussy and his index
finger traced the line of her soft slit.
It pushed inside, and she groaned and pressed her forehead to the bar,
heart pounding. Her feet shifted softly aside as his finger rubbed along
her quite moist sex. She felt the tip brushing at her clitoris, and a
wave of heat rolled over her. Then it slid downward and probed at her
entrance, turning, twisting, then pushing slowly up into her body.
She raised her eyes, gulping in air, sweating now as she stared around
the car at the crowd of people. None were paying her any attention
whatever, and it seemed incredible that despite the crowd they hadn't
noticed. She let out a soft whimper as the man's rough skinned finger
pushed up past the second joint, pushed up to the knuckle in her velvety
warm wetness, then turned slowly from side to side.
A wave of dizziness swept through her, making her legs tremble, and with
it a shocked awareness. She was on a bloody train! What in God's name
was happening! Fear, alarm, outrage, embarrassment and wonder twisted
and churned inside her, and then - oddly - faded away as the man's
finger continued to twist within her and his thumb pushed up slowly
against her clitoris.
"Whore."
She blinked her eyes, looking about her. No one was looking at her. She
wasn't even certain she'd heard the word, or who had said it.
She was quite wet, and a second finger pushed easily up into her tight
sex. Her legs were trembling. Her entire body was trembling with arousal
and she found herself gulping in air as sweat beaded her forehead.
Another hand pushed her coat aside, raised her skirt from behind and
began to fondle her bottom. She turned her head dazedly and saw that the
man on her other side, a distinguished looking gentleman with gray hair
was also not looking at her, but was reading an advert on the side of
the train. He acted completely oblivious to what his hand was doing as
it squeezed and fondled her buttocks.
Another hand crept around her and cupped her right breast. It was a fat,
dumpy looking Black woman whose eyes were half closed as she swayed to
the rocking of the train.
Heat enveloped Sam. She found it difficult to breath. She felt a hand
tugging at her thong, tugging forward - and backward. The thin waistband
tore, then tore again, and the thong came off. Her eyes widened and she
gasped in shock. She felt herself pierced front and rear as fingers
squirmed up into her body, and again pressed her forehead to the
stainless steel pole, feeling faint.
Her blouse was being unbuttoned. She felt a thrill at that, a thrill of
the forbidden, of the wicked. Fancy opening her blouse in the middle of
a train! Another wave of dizziness brought alarm, fear, shock,
embarrassment, and she stared around dazedly.
Her blouse was being opened. Yet she wasn't opening it, and she now felt
no alarm at it being opened, at it being drawn back over her shoulders
with her coat and off. Fingers fumbled at her skirt. It was undone and
slid down her legs, and she stepped out of it as her bra was opened.
She was naked - on a crowded train, but no one seemed to be paying the
slightest attention to her, not even the three people fondling and
stroking her body. No, four, for a short, blonde teenage girl little
younger than herself had turned from the girls she was talking to and
bent to suckle on her left nipple.
Sam let out a soft gasp of pleasure. Her nipples were both erect, and
even more sensitive than usual. The girl was grinding her teeth from
side to side against the nipple caught between them, her tongue flitting
expertly as she sucked.
There were conversations all around her, sports, politics, gossip,
complaints about bosses. The train stopped at the next station and some
people got off, including the fat black woman. No one appeared to notice
her nudity, or think it awry.
She was backed against the pole now, both her hands up and gripping it
tightly above her head. The teenage girl and an Arabic looking man in
overalls were sucking on her nipples as they kneaded her breasts.
A middle aged woman in a shawl knelt between her legs and began to lick
at her sex.
Sam arched her back and rolled her hips in helpless, wanton bliss. She'd
never felt so intensely aroused in her life! Why hadn't she come
already?! She hadn't imagined she could feel so much raw, burning
pleasure without a climax!
The train stopped again and much of the crowd got off. There were only
three other people standing now, none near her. She staggered, gripped
one of the leather handholds with her right hand, then reached down and
began to finger herself.
The train was brightly lit. On her right were two middle aged women
discussing a husband and his lazy ways. On her left was a business man
reading a newspaper and a dull eyed looking man in jeans and sweatshirt.
Facing her directly was a woman with two small boys flanking her. Two
dozen or so other people were looking in her general direction, but none
seemed to be looking at her as she masturbated.
Except one.
The odd looking man in the corner was staring at her, was seeing her,
watching her. Her face blushed a fiery red, yet she somehow could not
stop her fingers from frantically stroking over her sex, from plunging
into her body. The train lurched and her rubbery legs almost dropped her
to the floor. She reached out and grasped another of the leather hand
holds and - could not seem to let go.
She stared at the man who stared back. She was standing straight, legs
parted, arms up and apart clutching the hand holds.
She gasped in pain as she felt a sting across her back. She turned and
saw nothing there, but her back ached hotly as if - .
She cried out softly as she felt another sting, almost a blow. Pain
flared along her back near her shoulder blades and then began to soften
to a throbbing heat. Another blow and another, each making her gasp and
shudder and jerk. She moaned and her head shook violently, as if she
were training to clear it.
Another and another blow and she moaned and twisted. Her back ached
hotly. It felt raw and - another blow struck her and another and
another. Her knuckles were white where they gripped the hand holds and
it did not even occur to her to let go, to turn, to move.
She was flung forward sharply as a stinging blow struck the centre of
her back. It was more forceful than the others, more powerful. She could
actually feel the blow across her back, a sharp, jagged pain that made
her skin burn like fire for long instant before slowly fading. Another
powerful blow and her head was flung back as her body jerked violently
forward. Yet her hands gripped tightly and held her in place.
She let out a shuddering sob, waiting for the next blow. Instead she
felt a hand sliding down between her buttocks, squeezing and kneading
her soft round bottom before curving down beneath to cup and squeeze her
sex. She groaned and her legs shifted instinctively to make room as two,
no three fingers thrust up into her. She was dripping!
She turned her legs, not expecting to see anyone. She was now the only
one standing. There were several seats empty.
The fingers were long and warm and pumped firmly in and out, stroking
deliciously across her swollen pubic lips.
"... so I says to him, Jack, if you wants yer damned breakfast yer gonna
have to help wash the bloody dinner plates and..."
"...Aunt Helen wouldn't like it if your new dress was all dirty, dear so..."
"...bastard hasn't got the brains to pour piss out of an old boot but
he's such a suckup..."
Another blow struck her back and she groaned in pain, swaying, arms
aching as she clung to the straps. Then she cried out as she felt a
sharp blow across her breasts. She could actually see them both jerk up,
see their soft rounded surfaces broken briefly by - by nothing.
The pain was razor sharp and flung her head back behind her. Another
blow struck across her breasts a heartbeat before a second struck along
her shoulder blades.
She felt fingers stroking in and out of her as a soft, warm, moist
tongue began to lick at her swollen clitoris.
Her pale skin was glistening with sweat. She felt as if she were afire
from the inside. She cried out as another blow cut across her belly, and
then another. Another blow sliced across her back. She could see red
lines crossing her breasts now, as wide as her little finger, and more
rising on her belly as she took blows there.
She spread her legs and arched her back, rolling her hips. Her clitoris
was quivering violently now as a hot, invisible mouth sucked
rhythmically and a delicious tongue licked strongly across it. The
sensation was so powerful it was almost painful. And her head thrashed
as she bucked forward against it.
Twin blows struck her back and breasts at almost the same instant, then
another landed a breath later, just above her buttocks.
The fiery sexual heat was so intense she wanted to scream. Her groin was
burning. Her pussy felt like a volcano ready to spew lava. Her breasts
ached and throbbed with more than the red welts rising across their
rounded surfaces, an her nipples were tiny crackling electrical wires.
Oh how she needed to come! How desperately she needed to come. She could
actually feel her juices beginning to drip down her thigh now as her
sopping pussy spasmed and her muscles squeezed again and again.
A wave of dizziness, and she stared dazedly around, shocked, horrified.
What was happening to her? How - .
She needed a cock inside her. The sudden thought was feverish. Any cock
would do, but the bigger, the fatter, the longer the better.
Six fast blows struck her, three in back, three in front, and she jerked
and twisted and groaned. The fingers were still stroking gently in and
out of her pussy, and her clitty was still being licked and sucked. The
pain was irrelevant compared to the raw sexual hunger burning within her.
Six more blows sent her staggering back to the bar. She gripped it
against her body, squeezing her breasts around it, trying to curl her
sweating thighs around it as she ground herself feverishly up and down
against its slick surface.
Another blow, and two more, across her already aching, flaring back. God
they hurt!
She fell to her knees. There was a fat man sitting on the seat before
her, staring out the window. Her trembling hands fumbled at his trousers
even as a part of her mind felt a sense of revulsion and tried to draw
back. But she couldn't stop herself, and got his trousers open, tugging
att his waistband, reaching in for his cock.
He ignored her as if she didn't exist. But she got his cock free and
brought her lips around it. It was warm and slightly sweaty. She placed
her lips around the head, licking frantically, sucking it into her mouth
and massaging it with her lips, squeezing and massaging his balls as he
began to grow inside her mouth. He paid her no attention, but his body
did, and he was very soon erect as her lips rode rapidly up and down the
slick shaft and she sucked and licked at the head.
She gurgled as she forced her lips down all the way, taking him down her
throat. Deep throating was something she and her girlfriends had
discussed, and jokingly tried, but never succeeded in. The urge to gag
was too strong, and every time she'd tried she'd jerked her head back.
But not this time, as she pressed her soft lips in against the unknowing
man's groin and felt his cock fill her throat.
She felt a blow across her bottom, as if from a strap, then fingers
began to massage her soaking mound. She shuddered and thrust her bottom
back, swimming in sweat and terror and revulsion and helpless lust as
her lips moved up and down on the oblivious man's cock.
His head was turned towards his seat mate as he talked, his voice even
and steady. "... oh well, if you want to rely on the government for a
pension that's all right, but I think..."
Her head rang and throbbed, and she bobbed up and down faster and
faster. She felt another blow, and another, moaning and whimpering as
she sucked, spreading her knees farther apart on the floor as she felt
fingers pushing into her pussy, twisting around inside her.
The man came in her mouth and she tasted his warm, salty liquid,
swallowing eagerly, and she shifted instantly to his neighbour, a thin,
balding man, undoing his trousers and taking him into her throat as
well, bobbing desperately as her own hunger became a rabid thing.
She could not control herself, no matter how she tried, no matter how
shocked, nauseated and disgusted she felt. She moved down the line,
opening trousers and sucking, feeling their semen fill her mouth or
spurt over her face, horrified by her own actions yet revelling in how
lewd and sluttish she was acting. No one noticed her, and she could not
understand it, was dazed by it. She knelt, bottom raised, legs spread
wide, sex pointed up and out towards men and women sitting only a few
feet behind her, and crackling sexual electricity rippled over the
surface of her skin at what she was doing, at how wild and thrilling and
forbidden it was.
The train stopped again and people left. Others entered. No one took
notice of a lovely young girl kneeling naked on the floor performing
oral sex on an elderly man.
The next person along was a woman, and without hesitation Samantha
forced her skirt up and pulled the crotch of her panties aside, licking
at her pussy, spreading the lips of her sex open as she pushed her mouth
in harder. She felt nauseated, but wildly aroused as her tongue slid
through the woman's soft pussy lips and her nose ground against her clit.
She felt another blow and another and another and another, and her
bottom flared hotly, but not as hot as the fever gripping her lower
belly. She was sure steam would be coming out of her pussy.
And then she stopped and like a puppet pulled by its string, turned and
crawled back up the car, gasping and moaning, sweating, eyes wild, hair
matted. She crawled up to the odd man in the corner and felt a whimper
escape her as she stared at his gleaming black leather wingtips. She
bent and licked at them, then grasped one in trembling hands and began
to slide her tongue all across the surface.
He brought his foot up and placed it against her chest between her
breasts, then flung her back hard. She cried out as she landed on her
back, skidding on the floor, legs spread, sobbing for breath. Her hands
moved over her body, squeezing her breasts, then sliding down between
her legs. She thrust four fingers deep into her pussy and pumped
violently in and out, her hips rolling, back arching.
She staggered up to her knees and fell forward onto her elbows, gasping
for breath. She sobbed as a blow struck her back, then again as she felt
herself pierced, as something was thrust into her pussy from behind. She
rutted back frantically, looking up through wild eyes at the smirking
stranger. She knew, somehow, that he was responsible for it all, and a
searing sense of shame tore over her.
Yet she could not stop herself, could not control her body or hunger,
and even as she trembled under his eyes, fearing, hating, and mortified,
she continued to thrust her bottom back in desperate need, continued to
gasp and moan and whimper and shake as she drove herself against
whatever invisible thing was being pushed into her.
She crawled forward slowly, her fear growing, wanting nothing more than
to throw herself out the opposite door of the train - even if it were
moving. She grasped his ankle, licking at it, pulling herself up by
grasping his knees, licking at his leg through his trousers, reaching
for his groin. He slapped her face and she fell back dazedly then
started forward once more, pressing her face into his groin and trying
to mouth him through the material.
He gripped her hair and yanked her head up then slapped her face hard
enough to send her flying back onto her back on the floor. She sobbed
brokenly, rubbing at herself, thrusting her fingers into her pussy. She
crawled to her knees, jamming her fingers in, gasping in pain. She felt
her knuckles pass through the taut wet lips of her sex, forced her hand
up into her own pussy, felt her labia sliding closed around her wrist as
she wriggled and twisted her hand inside herself.
The man was watching her, a small, contemptuous smile on his lips as she
fisted herself, as she sobbed in desperate need and grunted with pain
and exhaustion. Shame slashed across her mind, and a visceral hatred as
her eyes were locked to his. She worked her fist in and out, ignoring
the terrible pain, and staggered forward on her knees, jamming her face
into his groin again. He did not stop her, and she got his trousers open
and reached in for his manhood.
He was huge!
His cock pulled free like a firehose, thick and fat and long. She could
hardly get her lips around it. She sucked and licked furiously, moaning
and whimpering as blows rained across her back and buttocks. Somehow she
got her fist free of her sex. He hardened quickly and she dragged
herself up his body and straddled him.
She grasped the thick shaft as the man watched her, and sank her pussy
down onto it. He was thicker than any other cock she'd ever had, but she
was almost hysterical with the need to have him inside her, and her own
fisting had opened her up. She sank down hard and let out a scream of
wondrous pleasure as she felt him impale her, as his cock drove deep
into her belly.
She began to ride up and down, grunting and gasping and sobbing at the
rush of raw sensations which burned through her mind and body.
"So good! So good! So good!" she gasped, her eyes red and feverish.
She was going to come. She could feel it rising. Ecstasy burned through
her mind and she hardly noticed as he grasped her breasts, leaned
forward slightly, and took her left nipple into his mouth. She did not
see the razor sharp fangs in his mouth, did not notice as he almost
delicately brought two of them down on the top and bottom of her
engorged nipple.
He bit down hard and she shuddered as the pain hammered against the wall
of wildfire pleasure swirling through her mind. His tooth - fang - bit
completely through her nipple and hot, delicious pain flowed through her
breast. He shifted his mouth and bit her other nipple, again piercing it
through so that she sobbed in exquisite pain.
He smiled as she continued to rut violently up and down, riding his
glorious cock for all she was worth. He opened his mouth wide and took
in the centre of her breast, then bit - hard. His teeth sank deep into
her flesh and her breast burned.
She came.
Ecstasy was too mild a word.
An explosive hurricane of pleasure, pleasure of shocking intensity, tore
through Sam's body, shredding her mind. It completely engulfed her, yet
its white hot core was the thick cock driven deep into her belly. And
she bounced and rode wildly up and down as the climax build up to
greater and more powerful heights.
His teeth remained lodged deep in the flesh of her breast as he drank,
as he fed on both her wild sexual emotion and her blood. He sucked and
slurped and licked at the soft warm flesh filling his mouth as Sam's
head thrashed from side to side and her body twisted and writhed in
mindless animal heat.
Exhausted and drained, she slowed her ride, yet her body continued to
writhe and twist and shake and tremble, as the man's powerful hands
gripped her tightly and his mouth pulled free of her breast. He had
tasted deeply of her energy but only lightly of her blood. Now he
gripped her head roughly and yanked it forward and aside, then bit into
the nape of her neck, fangs sinking through the flesh and into her
jugular. She shuddered and trembled and convulsed as pain and pleasure
twisted within her, whimpering and moaning helplessly.
He fed more deeply now and she was becoming light headed. She felt as
though she were hallucinating, as if her entire being, her life force,
her energy, her very soul, were pouring out of her into his greedily
feasting mouth.
And didn't care.
He drank her down like fine wine, heady and strong, her energy pouring
into him as he sucked deeply. There was little left of her, but he
didn't care, for he was full, content. He would leave a few drops, a
very few, just enough.
He opened his mouth and his long fangs slid out of her throat, his
saliva neatly sealing the wound. He gripped her hair and stared at the
girl, caught her eyes. His grew intent and he felt her mind fluttering
like a caged bird.
He smiled and cast her back onto the floor, then gazed at the man
opposite him. The man rose and knelt between her legs, undoing his
trousers. The girl lay sprawled on her back, legs splayed. The man had
an erection. He thrust into her and began to ride her.
She trembled weakly, staring up at the man.
Her mind was suddenly released and she felt as if a heavy curtain had
been lifted from around her. She gazed up in wonder and amazement,
shocked, horrified. Her mind began to churn violently. How... how... what...
She was laying naked on the floor of a tube train as a man she didn't
know thrust into her with all the casualness of a carpenter hammering a
nail. She tried to protest, to raise her arms from the floor, to roll
away. But she hadn't the energy. She was more exhausted than she could
ever remember. Moving a single finger almost drained what energy was
left. All she could do was stare upwards as the man finished and another
took his place and another, and another and another.
None took more than a minute or two, thrusting hard into her body and
then climaxing before resuming their seats.
Sam knew she was dying. Her chest rose and fell very slowly. Her breath
rattled weakly in her throat. She felt regret but simply didn't have the
energy to keep on living any more. One man after another thrust into
her, and she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the strange man looking
on, smirking, as if it were just a game to him, just a private amusement.
Eric felt the surge of power for only an instant, but it was enough. It
flitted across his consciousness for a mere instant, but he caught the
thread of it and raced forward, leaping into the air. He did not -
precisely - fly. The power of his leap simply hurled him forward a city
block before his foot touched down again and then threw him up and
forward another. A few people caught - something - out of the corners of
their eyes, but by the time they'd turned it was gone.
Eric felt the power nearing as he flew between the cars and trolleys.
And then looked downward. He was there! It should be here with him! Yet
it wasn't, and he felt it still a distance away, a very small distance -
beneath him.
He remembered the tube then. That delightful underground railway which
carried people along. Could there be one below him? Running along on its
tracks?
He spied one of the signs ahead and dove through the open door after a
rotund man in an apron, the wind of his passing rocking the man forward.
Before he could turn his head Eric was down the stairs and waiting for
the train which pulled into the station, masking himself.
He howled through the open door of the car like a storm and the vampire
sitting idly in the corner seat had only an instant to react.
Of course, an instant was all any vampire needed, and it surged up out
of its seat as Eric slammed into him. The two bodies crashed heavily
against the steel wall, striking with enough force to leave a deep dent
and rock the train on its suspension.
Eric didn't know the vamp, and went for his throat, but the vamp, filled
with its recent feeding, fought back savagely. They were a blur to the
others in the car, but a dark ugly blur with a psychic reek of pain,
fury and danger. The car emptied quickly as people fled and then the
doors closed and the train started forward.
Eric flung the vamp across the car. It slammed into and through one of
the steel support rods and Eric was on him before he could rise. He
snarled in rage as he clawed at the vamps throat, but it twisted aside
and with lightning speed and infuriating timing crashed through one of
the wide windows just as the train passed a narrow side tunnel. Eric,
following a second behind, struck the concrete and was hurled back into
the car to land in a heap on the floor.
Cursing in rage he sprang up and started forward again, but halted as
the train came into a brightly lit station. He looked down at the girl,
sprawled naked on the floor. Leaving her would cause a mess, draw
unwanted attention, make the old ones angry. It was his territory and
without the dead heart of the one responsible he was as like as not to
draw their wrath.
He bent swiftly. She was dead or - no, almost. A tiny spark of life
remained stubbornly behind and her eyes were open, looking at him glassily.
Anger flared again at the waste, the stupid, needless waste, the waste
of cruelty and arrogance. He blinked, as another thought hit. The girl
would have a connection with the vampire who had taken her mind. It
would have been implanted as a matter of course as he had controlled
her. With a little luck Eric could use that to find him and tear out his
throat.
But that would mean keeping the girl alive, and there was almost nothing
left of her. He was amazed she was even breathing.
He gripped her hair, thick and red and beautiful, and yanked her head
up, drawing her upper body off the floor. He bent her head back and
closed his jaws on her exposed throat where the other vampire had fed.
He glared and turned her head to the other side, then bent. His teeth
bit into the soft flesh, driving in to her jugular vein. He tasted the
sweetness of her blood and felt the fluttering of her heart, and then he
closed his eyes and poured energy into her.
Her body jerked violently, and he threw an arm around her torso to
squeeze her tightly against him. In an instant he realized there wasn't
enough of her left to revive in this way. But there was another, apt to
cause trouble. He hesitated, then bit deeper. He felt his secondary
teeth slide into her throat and injected his essence into her blood.
People were looking into the car now, but it took only a shrug of his
mind to fog their eyes so they would see neither him nor the girl. They
saw the broken glass, however, and felt a sense of coldness in the car,
moving on to choose another.
Eric felt his essence, sharp and bitter, like poison, spreading through
the girl's body. Her heart skipped a beat, then beat more strongly. Her
blood began to race, her pulse to thump. He felt the flow of her body's
power strengthen as her metabolism began to speed and her body began to
heal itself faster and faster.
He drew his teeth up and back and looked up the length of the car. With
the movement of his hand the girls clothes flew across the car to him.
He straightened, threw her over his shoulder, gathered the clothes, and
stepped out at the next stop.
No one looked up. No one noticed a tall, powerfully built man walking
through the station with a naked girl draped across his shoulder. Or
rather, they all saw, but their minds shied away.
----
From the ebook: In the Vampire's Lair
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His e-books are available at
http://www.ebookblue.com