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The Vampire’s Kiss
Chapter 3: Virgin Blood
Abigail turned the sedan into the parking garage beneath Faust Tower in downtown Chicago. The sun’s rays lightened the horizon. Fear rippled across her skin. The sun meant death. Its light was fire reduced to its most pure essence.
And purity was deadly to a vampire.
But Abigail didn’t fear for her own safety. Dawn lay a few minutes away and already she had pulled the car into the sanctuary of the parking garage. The dark, man-made cavern was lit by the impure, flickering florescent lights.
Abigail feared for her husband’s safety.
It was a small kernel buried in the depths of her soul, that tiny bit of her not bound up by the chains of her Sire’s will. I left my husband tied up to face the rising sun.
“Is there any particular place for me to park, Sire?” Abigail asked, addressing the vampire that killed her and who now rode in the back of the sedan.
“It is marked president of the board,” her Sire answered, his voice deep, powerful. His eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror, meeting hers. He sat in the back, dressed in an expensive, Italian suit tailored to fit his strong figure.
A heat flushed through Abigail’s body at the memory of her Sire’s teeth piercing her neck as his cock pierced her pussy. She was his. Her body given over to servicing his lusts. Her Sire had taken her for hours while Damien watched while chained to their bedroom wall.
He ravished me in our marital bed.
Damien’s angry, bitter shouts echoed through her head. That part of Abigail free of her Sire’s control grieved for the hurt she inflicted on her husband. But she knew she would do it again and again. Her body yearned for her Sire’s touch.
Damien will be dead in a few minutes.
Her Sire was punishing Abigail and Damien for killing vampires. Before she was turned, Abigail had been a Knight Venator with her husband, a servant of the Jesuit Order who hunted monsters. Abigail and Damien specialized in slaying the undead.
They had killed many vampires, including ones sired by the man sitting behind her.
Abigail found the parking space next to the elevators. She pulled in and turned off the car. As a hunter, she would have been disturbed to learn that the President of the powerful Faust, Inc was a vampire.
Now she was thankful to serve such a powerful Sire.
The horizon grew brighter. Damien hung disconsolately, no longer caring that his arms were numb from his hours of imprisonment.
He had one chance to save his unlife and he had blown it. Abigail had left the keys to his manacles on the nearby nightstand. Before she left, a small part of her had rebelled against her Sire. Abigail knew he had telekinesis—his vampiric gift.
All Damien had to do was manipulate the key into the lock. But he had no skill with telekinesis yet. No finesse. His fear, frustration, and hunger for blood distracted him. In a burst of anger, he had accidentally flung the key out the window.
The sunlight grew brighter. His skin grew warm. The edges of purity touched him. He grit his teeth as his skin blackened and cracked.
Aurora the angel growled in frustration as the key to Damien’s freedom smashed through the window. “No. We were so close.”
Gideon sighed. “It’s probably better this way. The sun will cleanse Damien’s soul and give him rest.”
“And Faust will continue to expand his power.”
Aurora flared her wings. The Ether was so thin. It was the medium separating the mortal world from beyond. All she had to do was step through the barrier and manifest. She could close the curtains and save Damien. The plan would be salvageable.
But she hadn’t been given permission to perform any more interventions. Heaven no longer considered the risks worth allowing her to try. And she was no a demon. She wouldn’t act without orders.
But she wanted to.
“Gideon. I could crossover. I could save him. Do they know upstairs?”
Gideon glanced at his clipboard. “No intervention is possible. It is not worth the cost of allowing another demonic encroachment.”
Anger flared through Aurora. She seized the Ether’s fabric. She just had to tear and she would be through. She would save Damien and he could go kill Faust. Damien would be another monster, but one more easily manageable than the monster that was Faust.
“Aurora?” Gideon gasped, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing? Rebelling?”
A shock went through Aurora. She let go of the fabric and stared at her hands. I had been so close to…rebelling. To being no different than Jezebel and her ilk.
Aurora looked at Damien. She touched his face as the room grew brighter. “I’m sorry for failing you and your wife.”
“Aurora,” Gideon frowned, his tone shocked, “there may have been a possibility overlooked in my calculations.”
Aurora looked up. “What?”
“It’s not good.” Gideon’s eyes were sad as he held up his notepad. It wasn’t a real notepad, but a representation of the ever-changing probability of future events. Angels had talents—Aurora intervened; Gideon calculated.
Aurora studied the data and groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Would my intervention really cause something worse than this?
Britney Lawson yawned as she opened the door to let out the family dog. Bruiser did a lap around the yard as he looked for a spot to make his business. The eighteen year old rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she watched the family dog. She didn’t like being up before the sun had even peaked over the horizon.
“Hurry up,” she muttered. “I want to get back to—”
Britney yelped as shards of glass rained down on her backyard. She glanced up at the D’Angelo’s house. Damien and Abigail’s bedroom window had a large, jagged hole in the center. Britney stepped onto the grass in her slippers, her eyes wide.
“What was that?” she muttered, her heart thudding.
She liked the D’Angelos. They had been her neighbors since she was a little girl. Abigail was playful and always had great, if earthy, advice about boys, and Damien was a hunk. Her first crush. When Britney turned eighteen a few months ago, she seriously considered seducing the sexy man.
But she didn’t want to hurt Abigail, and she knew that Damien loved his wife too much to cheat on her. No matter how big my tits are our how young and nubile my body is.
“Is that a key?” she asked herself, noticing the brass lying in the grass. She picked it up and frowned, glancing back at the window.
What happened up there?
Britney swallowed. She wanted to run back into the house and wake up her parents. I’m an adult. I can handle this. I’ll just go over there and find out what’s wrong.
Britney clutched the key in her hand, her heavy breasts jiggling beneath the long, Chicago Bears jersey she slept in. She padded around the house to the gate and slipped into the front yard. She took long steps and rounded the bushes separating her parent’s front yard from the D’Angelo’s.
The D’angelo’s garage door was open.
Britney’s stomach twisted as she cut across the grass. They never left their garage open. Her slippers whisked across the pebbly driveway. She almost slipped on the smooth cement floor of the garage. The door leading into the house was also open.
This is so dumb.
Britney pressed forward, stepping into the house. “Hello?” she asked.
“Britney?” the pained voice of Mr. D’Angelo called.
“Yes,” she shouted. “Where are you?”
“Bedroom.” His voice was hoarse. “Hurry.”
Britney sprang into action, her slippers slapping on the hardwood floors. She reached the stairs and ran up them. Her nose wrinkled. Something burned, like charred meat. Her heart hammered in her chest.
Mr. D’Angelo screamed in pain.
“What’s happening?” she shouted as she raced faster, passing the second floor and heading up to the third were the D’Angelo’s bedroom was.
“Curtains!” howled Mr. D’Angelo. “Close them! Hurry.”
Britney burst onto the top floor and raced into their bedroom. Her eyes widened in shock. Mr. D’Angelo hung naked from the wall by manacles. His body thrashed. His face was blacked and burned by the first rays of golden light peaking through the room.
“Please!” he screamed. “Curtains, Britney!”
Britney yelped and charged for the curtains. Confusion gripped her mind. She couldn’t think, only act. She reached the heavy curtains and yanked them shut. Mr. D’Angelo’s screams died down. His body stopped thrashing.
“Mr. D’Angelo,” she gasped. “Oh, my god, what happened? Where is Abigail?”
“Need to…” he muttered, his face a charred mask. “Help…me…”
Britney opened her hand, staring at the key. Then she glanced up at the manacles. “I’ll get you down, then I’ll call for help. Just hold on, Mr. D’Angelo.”
Britney raced around the bed to the nearby nightstand, stepping over a notepad and the nightstand desk drawer strewn across the floor. She grasped the nightstand and jerked it back, knocking off the lamp in her haste.
She didn’t care.
“Just hold on,” she kept repeating.
“Need you…” Mr. D’Angelo muttered. “So warm…hear you…heart…warm…”
His words didn’t mean anything to Britney. She dragged the nightstand close enough to where he hung and mounted the piece of furniture. The nightstand’s uneven legs rocked beneath her and she yelped, grasping Mr. D’Angelo’s body to keep from falling.
“Sorry,” she gasped as he groaned.
His arms were as burnt as his face, his fingers charred almost to the bone.
“Don’t look,” she muttered to herself, fighting the roiling in her stomach. “Just open the lock.”
Her sweaty hand fumbled with the key. She inserted it into the lock and twisted. Metal clicked and Damien’s left hand dropped free. He grunted, held up only by the charred remains of his right arm. She reached over him.
“Just hold on,” she repeated as she forced the key into the lock.
Mr. D’Angelo dropped to the floor in a heap, moaning in agony. Britney hopped off and bent over him. Before she could react, he sprang at her. His hand slammed into her throat. She tried to scream, but he choked off her air. The world flew past and then she slammed into the bed, Mr. D’Angelo on top of her.
Fear hammered in her heart. She kicked and struggled.
And then his mouth bit into her neck. A shudder ran through her body. Euphoria filled her. The virgin gasped. Her pussy became molten fire as Mr. D’Angelo drank down her blood. Every beat of her heart pumped more and more into his mouth.
His hand let go of her throat. She didn’t fight any longer.
“Yes,” the virgin moaned, her eyes fluttering.
His mouth sucked. The blood flowed into his lips. He growled his enjoyment. Britney’s eyes widened. Vampire… drifted through her mind. She humped beneath him, her thighs spreading wide, rubbing her pussy against his stomach through her jersey. The world grew fuzzy and dark.
Her pleasure increased.
It seemed like an eternity that Mr. D’Angelo sucked at her neck. His teeth bit deep. It was so intimate. She was giving him her life. That made her happy. She turned her head, staring at his short, dark-brown hair. His skin healed, the charred fading.
I’m saving him. Her hand stroked his powerful arm. It was so hard to move. She grew weaker and weaker as the pleasure swelled inside of her. I saved kocaeli escort him.
Britney’s virgin pussy came close to cumming. She just needed a little more. She barely writhed as the life flowed out of her. She moaned out, “Damien,” as darkness crashed down on her. A smile formed on her lips as her thoughts slowed.
Her heart beat weakly, struggling to pump as her blood pressure dropped.
Damien D’Angelo shuddered as the virgin blood flowed through his body. It was powerful, healing the burns. His body grew stronger with every flutter of her heart. She squirmed beneath him, gasping his name as her orgasm burst through her.
And then she fell still.
Damien lifted his lips, savoring the coppery tang as he stared down at Britney. Her chest barely rose as she took her last breasts. Her body convulsed as she entered into blood shock. He had drank too much of her blood, and her blood pressure dropped precipitously.
Death would follow.
“I know you,” Damien whispered as he stared at his victim. He didn’t have to drain her to the point of death, but he couldn’t control himself.
Her blood pooled onto the bedspread. His nose flared. His lips watered. He shouldn’t waste it. She was already dead. He should finish sucking her dry.
“But I know you.” He stroked her cheek. “I…watched you grow up. I was at your graduation.”
It was too late to change her into a vampire. She was too gone to have an orgasm.
Another possibility flowed through his mind—she was a virgin. Damien bit his wrist. His blood welled, full of the dark ichor that sustained him. He put it to her lips. Her body convulsed as his dark blood stained her lips.
Damien’s cock hardened as pleasure rushed from his wrist to his cock. Britney moaned as she drank his blood. It infected her while she lived, changing her. She wouldn’t be a vampire, but a thrall. A dark servant, still alive, still capable of heading into the sunlight. Only a virgin could become a thrall, her purity corrupted by the dark ichor. She would gain strengths, her body would produce blood faster.
She could be fed upon far past what a normal human could take and recover in a fraction of the time.
“You always were beautiful,” Damien whispered. “I saw the way you looked at me. I noticed, but I never acted. I was human. So weak, so confused. I didn’t want to hurt—”
Abigail’s face seared through his mind. The vampire had taken Abigail over and over on this bed, forcing Damien to watch and then leaving him to die. Damien ripped his wrist from Britney’s lips. He left the young girl to recover as the anger consumed him. He reached down and snagged the notepad from the floor. It was covered in Abigail’s handwriting.
“Faust Crespo sired me,” Abigail wrote. “I’ll be at Faust Tower.”
The notepad tore in Damien’s hands as he let out a violent snarl. Faust Crespo—the billionaire who had revitalized Chicago over the last twenty years was a vampire. The vampire that killed his wife and turned her into a whore.
Becoming a vampire didn’t change who Damien was in his core—he was a hunter. He had a prey to kill.
Father Hyrum Augustine stared at the temptation splayed out before him. Her naked, bubbly ass peaked out of the cheap, motel sheet. Her blonde hair spread out like gold on the pillow, hiding the innocence of her face.
He had plundered the girl over and over again yesterday. Her sinful body had inflamed his lusts. Her sweet name, Joy, belied how whorish she was. The priest had found her hitchhiking yesterday as he drove back to Chicago after the hunt in Albuquerque.
Damien had flown home before Father Augustine, but the equipment and weapons in the back of the parish van were not easily explainable to the TSA. So Father Augustine had, as usual, volunteered to drive the van home.
It was his duty as the chaplain to Damien and Abigail. He was their connection to the Jesuit Order, their armorer and shepherd.
But Augustine had wandered into sin. For years, he had lusted after the whorish parishioners of Our Lady Queen of Heaven, the church he ran in Pingree Grove, Illinois, a small town outside of Chicago. Their filthy, harlot bodies always inflamed his lusts, and the way they would confess their sexual sins would make him throb beneath his cassock.
The things he heard. The young ones engaging in premarital sex and sometimes even homosexuality, kissing and sucking and licking on their girlfriends while drunk at a party. The older ones confessing cheating on their husbands, consumed with their lusts for other men.
All the while, their filthy sins made him hard. Tempted him.
Yesterday, he could resist their sinful bodies no longer. Joy had claimed him. He picked her up on the side of the road and she had blown him. She had begged for it, dressing like a whore in a thong, tight jean skirt, and boob tube.
His dick was hard, jutting out from his naked body. He had fucked her last night in the motel room—she had to earn her dinner. And now it was time for her to earn her breakfast. The priest ran a hand through his dark hair, only going gray at the wings. He was middle-aged but had the strength of a twenty-year old.
He stared at her ass. That’s the one hole I haven’t plundered.
Father Augustine fell on the bed. The mattress squeaked beneath him. His hands seized her butt-cheeks, prying them apart. Joy stirred as he buried his face between her asscheeks and tongued her sinful hole.
“Father,” the whore moaned, her hips undulating. “Already?”
“You have tempted me,” Father Augustine cried. “You slept naked, showing off your ass. You want me to fuck it.”
“No,” she groaned as his tongue swiped across her sphincter. “Father, please.”
“Quiet, harlot.” He squeezed her perfect asscheeks in his hands. “You have inflamed my lusts, and you will satiate them, whore.”
“Yes, Father,” she whispered. So submissive. Joy knew her place. Life has beaten her down and prepared her for me.
The thought seemed to rise from outside of him.
His fingers dug into her asscheeks as he tongued through her sphincter. She moaned as he savored her sour flavor. Her hips undulated. The whore loves it. All her protests were lies. She just didn’t want to admit her true desires.
She lives to serve me.
“Yes, Father,” gasped Joy as his tongue pressed into her bowels. She shuddered and pressed up against him. “Tongue me. So good.”
His right hand slid down. He would need to lube her. Joy groaned as his fingers stroked through her shaved, wet folds. Then the priest pressed into her depths. She shuddered and her pussy clenched down on his fingers.
He fucked his fingers in deep, stirring the whore’s sinful hole before he pulled out. Augustine lifted his lips and rubbed her juices on her asshole. He slammed his finger into her hot depths. Joy gasped and shivered.
“You like that, whore?”
“Yes, Father,” she purred.
“You want me to fuck your ass with my big cock, don’t you?”
“I do,” she panted. “It’s so wild. Use me, Father.”
“That’s why you slept naked with your ass uncovered.” Father Augustine smacked her perky ass. “You wanted to tempt me into sin.”
“I guess,” she moaned. “I love sinning with you, Father.”
Father Augustine buried two fingers into her cunt. Her asscheeks clenched as he worked them in and out, soaking them in her sin. He moved his fingers to her asshole and shoved them into her bowels. Her sphincter swallowed them, stretching about his digits.
His dick ached. He envied his fingers. He wanted to be buried into Joy’s tight asshole. He leaned down and took a lick at her spicy pussy while he fingered her ass. His tongue curled through her sticky passion.
“I think you’re ready, whore,” proclaimed the priest.
Father Augustine rose, his crucifix swinging about his naked chest and his cock bobbing before him. He spread her asscheeks. He placed the tip of his dick between them and pressed forward against her sphincter.
“Father,” shuddered Joy. “It hurts.”
“Relax and embrace your sinful actions. You tempted a man, and now you must satiate his lusts. Your sin, and the sin of all women, is responsible.”
“Yes, Father,” she groaned. “Fuck my body. I’m so sorry for tempting you. I can’t help it.”
“Woman could never fight her nature,” Father Augustine groaned as he pressed his dick forward. “You are no different than Eve in the garden seduced by the serpent.”
“No different,” she groaned.
His cock slid deeper and deeper into her bowels. The priest shuddered. She was so tight. He groaned as the pleasure rushed up his cock. He leaned over her sleek form, using his weight to drive deeper and deeper into her.
“Father,” she panted. “Please, not so hard.”
“Quiet, whore,” he growled. “The only words I want to hear from your lips is how much you love my cock in your sinful ass.”
Father Augustine buried into her depths. Then he drew back, savoring the tight grip of her asshole. His balls churned. He had fucked Joy three times yesterday, but her asshole was such a new delight, he feared he would cum as fast as a virgin.
He grit his teeth as he drove into her depths, controlling himself. Joy let out a shuddering moan, more pleasure than pain in her voice. Her asshole relaxed. His cock slid in easier. He pumped faster, his balls slapping into her taint while the cheap motel bed creaked.
“Oh, Father,” Joy moaned in surprise. “It’s…nice. Your cock…makes me feel…good.”
“Your body was made for sin,” Father Augustine groaned. “Do not be surprised that you enjoy it.”
“Yes, Father. I do enjoy it. Fuck my ass. Fuck my dirty, sinful ass.”
“Yes,” he growled, his strokes growing faster.
The priest’s groin smacked into her asscheeks. The slap rang through the room. He drew back and slammed in, growling his delight. He sucked on her neck as she gasped and cooed beneath him, her asshole so tight.
The whore bucked into his thrusts. Joy’s moans grew liquid with her desire. She undulated and writhed beneath him, her passions consuming her. The bed squeaked and groaned with the force of his thrusts.
“Yes, yes! Harder, Father! Fuck my ass harder! I’m so close. I’m going to cum.”
“Whore,” snarled Father Augustine. “That is all you are. A whore.”
“Your whore, Father,” she shuddered. Her asshole tightened on his cock. She bucked beneath him. “Yes, I’m cumming, Father. I’m such a whore, I’m cumming as you fuck my ass.”
“Yes, you are.”
Joy’s bowels massaged Father Augustine’s dick. He groaned through clenched teeth. He never wanted to stop fucking her barely legal asshole, but his cum churned in his balls. He slammed into her depths and erupted.
Blast after blast of his cum filled Joy’s ass. She squealed beneath him as the pleasure rushed through his mind. He never wanted to give this up. After thirty years of holding onto his vow of celibacy, the priest knew he could never go back.
“Oh, Father, that was hot,” Joy purred as he pulled his cock out of her asshole.
“You dirtied my cock, whore,” Father Augustine growled. He grabbed her blonde hair and pulled her face to his dick. “Suck it clean.”
Joy blanched. “Father, no. It’s been in my ass.”
“And you’re a whore, so you have no shame. Nothing is too dirty for you.”
Joy looked into his eyes. She shuddered, then nodded her head. “Yes, Father.”
The priest groaned in delight as her tongue kocaeli escort bayan licked at his dick. She cleaned him up, savoring every filthy bit. The priest smiled. “I’m taking you home with me. I’ll find a place for you to work in the church. You’ll be my little whore. I’ll fuck you all the time.”
“Yes, Father,” Joy purred between licks.
The demon Jezebel smiled as she watched the priest’s corruption. She only had to whisper a few words to send him over the edge and fuck Joy’s ass. Soon, he would be her weapon. She would turn him and make him defend the very thing he hated.
Jezebel delighted in her work. She watched the mortals as they dressed and headed to his parish van. Joy climbed in, a smile on her lips. She was the perfect tool for the priest’s corruption. Through her, Jezebel would make the priest forswear his vow to God and gain true power.
“What is all this back here, Father?” Joy asked as she peered in the back. “I…I was too scared to ask last night, but now…”
“The tools to fight evil,” Father Augustine answered. “True evil, not your whorish kind.”
“Wow,” the girl gasped. “With weapons? Are you a vigilante?”
“A vampire hunter.”
Joy’s eyes widened. She stared at the priest in awe. Jezebel smiled and pressed herself against Joy’s body from the Ether. She pressed her fingers into Joy’s mind. The girl needed to tempt the priest and push him over the edge.
It was Jezebel’s final intervention. A sanctioned one. No angel—like that cunt Aurora—could undo her work. Whenever an angel intervened with a mortal, somewhere a demon was allowed to intervene without Heaven’s reprisal. Jezebel could intervene whenever she wanted, but then Heaven would bring their might to bare.
But Heaven, bound by their rules, still had to intervene in the world and, thanks to those stupid rules, gave Jezebel the opportunities to play.
This time, Jezebel wouldn’t slip up and give Aurora excuse to cast her back into Hell.
The sun imprisoned Damien in his house. He could not escape its pure rays. He glanced at the heavy curtains covering the windows. Beams of sunlight leaked out, splaying across the wall. His skin crawled as he watched the dust dance in the pure shafts.
Britney slumbered on the bed as she recovered from her near death. Her blood scented the air. Damien ignored his hunger. He had fed enough. Instead, he planned. He had a hunt to conduct. Faust Crespo had turned his wife and taken her. Damien would get her back and avenge them both.
He sat on the bed beside the comatose Britney. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, her rhythm strong. Her breasts rose and fell in the Chicago Bear’s jersey, the collar stained with her blood. The puncture wounds had already healed.
Damien sat with his laptop resting on his thighs. The heat didn’t burn his naked legs like it would when he was human. Now his body drank in the heat, growing warmer than the ambient air temperature. His fingers hunted and pecked on the keys—he never learned Abigail’s ability to type.
His eyes flicked through the pages of the corporate website.
“Faust, Inc., leads the world in biomedical research, information technology, and aerospace hardware. With subsidiaries in the thirty countries and contracts with US, Canadian, and European Defense Departments, Faust, Inc. brings the future to the present.”
Damien rolled his eyes. He studied the pictures of the building. Friendly faces streaming in through the glass doors in the heart of Chicago. His keen eyes spotted the guards in the shadows. Men in suits, wearing sunglasses in doors.
You’re a vampire. Are your men trained to fight undead, Faust? Or are they just useful against humans?
Damien wrote on the very notepad that Abigail had used for her note. Then he went back to the computer. He used Google street viewer and circled the block of Faust Tower, examining the building. Two separate parking garage entrances, a main entrance, and three side entrances. He spotted more guards and plenty of security cameras.
He tabbed back to the Faust Towers, clicking on the public relations department. “Visit the amazing observation deck for a breath-taking view of Lake Michigan and the Chicago Skyline. Faust Towers, at 112 stories, is the tallest skyscraper in the United States and the fourth tallest in the world. Available for rent for parties and other special events.”
Damien noted that. The security had a hole if tourist were allowed access to building’s observation deck.
He switched to the biography of Faust Crespo on Wikipedia. “Faust Crespo is something of an enigma in these modern days, shunning public functions and celebrity in favor of quietly running the third largest corporation in the world from behind the scenes. His brief public appearances have always been at night, leading some to speculate that he suffers from prophyria, a rare disease where the suffer has an adverse reaction to sunlight from simple pain to rashes and open sores that can occur within minutes of exposure.”
“Or being a vampire,” Damien muttered. He shook his head. “Were you a vampire from the beginning? Or where you turned after founding your empire? How did the Knights Venator and the Jesuits miss you?”
Faust Crespo had power, and not just the temporal sort. Damien well knew Vampires, like most monsters, often made deals with demons. Faust would have demonic entities ensuring he remained undetected by the church and Heaven.
“Damn,” Damien muttered. It was strange to realize he was no longer on Heaven’s side. He stared at his hands. They were stronger than they had been. He could move objects with his mind and hear a pin drop half a mile away. If he dropped down the control on his senses, he would be assault by sounds, smells, and sights. There was so many more shades of color than Damien had ever realized. They could overwhelm him if he wasn’t careful, assaulting his mind.
He glance at the clock on the laptop. 9:18 AM. It was early summer. The sun wouldn’t set for nearly eleven hours. He was trapped in here. His wife was in the clutches of a sadistic vampire, her body used and degrade for the vampire’s pleasure, while he was imprisoned by the sun in his house.
His anger rose. Damien snarled, his hands balling into fists. He seized his laptop and raised it before he stopped. He sat it on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard.
I need to keep in control. I cannot let this rage poison me.
The last time he had been so angry, he was eighteen and marching through the halls of his high school with Abigail and their two friends, hunting the rapier preying on their school. Only he and Abigail had walked out alive after killing Vincent.
The anger had driven them. They hadn’t planned their hunt that well. They had no idea what they were walking into.
I can’t do that again. I need to plan. Faust is not Vincent. I need to go to Chicago and establish a base. Damien closed his eyes. I’ll need to reconnoiter the building. I’ll need to discover if he has more than human guards.
Damien’s eyes opened. Where will I get my equipment?
He and Abigail only kept a small amount of weapons and equipment in the basement. He had a crossbow, a silver machete, and a few vials of holy water. And no way to get more. He couldn’t go to Father Augustine and ask the Jesuits to outfit him.
I’m the enemy now. In a few days, Father Augustine will realize something has happened to me and Abigail. He’ll know we’ve fallen. Been turned. He’ll tell the order.
Then they’ll come for us.
The Knights Venator knew the greatest threat to the world were their fellow Knights fallen into darkness. Most vampires had no idea what their strength and weaknesses were. They were sired and cast into the world to be hunted. Few, like Faust, ever lived more than a few years.
The Knights were skilled, but an enemy that knew their tactics would have the advantage.
I should call Father Augustine and let him know what happened. He could help me kill Faust and…
Damien growled. His duty was clear. He and Abigail had to die. They had sworn oaths to protect the world. In fact, Damien should throw himself into the sunlight before he caused any more harm. He had already turned Britney into a thrall after almost killing her.
He stared down at her innocent face. He had watched her blossom into a young woman. How many other young women will I destroy? His eyes went to the sunbeam. All he had to do was walk to the window and throw open the curtains.
And die? Throw away everything before I’ve even avenged us? Before I freed Abigail?
Damien knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He knew his duty and he rejected it. He wasn’t ready to die. I have work to do.
Britney’s eyes fluttered open. She took a deep breath, her heartbeat quickening. Damien inhaled and savored the hot, salty scent of her life’s blood coursing through her veins. It mixed with a sweeter scent, the breast milk leaking from her nipples.
“Master,” Britney whispered. A shudder went through her. “You spoke in my dreams. You claimed me.”
“Did I?” Damien asked in surprise.
“Yes.” Her supple legs writhed together, the hem of her jersey sliding down her right thigh as she bent her leg up. Another artery surged life down her inner thigh, beckoning him. It mixed with the sweet scent of her pussy’s arousal. “In my dreams, your voice caressed me and bound me.”
Damien didn’t know what to say.
“I dreamed of this moment.” Her hand reached out, touching his naked thigh. Her skin was warm with life. His cock ached and hardened as she slid up. “I’ve wanted to be yours for so long. I’ve loved you from afar, never wanting to waste your time with my schoolgirl crush.”
“And now?” Damien groaned. He had never been unfaithful to his wife. Even dreams of other women made him feel guilty.
He only felt arousal now as his thrall’s hand reached his thick pubic hair.
“Now you’ve claimed me. You drank my blood. It was rapture, Master.” A shudder ran through her body. Her milk leaked from her nipples and stained the dark-blue of her jersey. “Magical.”
Damien’s eyes stared at her breasts straining her jersey, Her nipples were hard points centered in the dark spots. Her milk smelled almost as delicious as her blood. His cock ached harder as her fingers reached the base of his shaft.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Britney moaned as her hand stroked his shaft. He groaned at the warmth of her hand, her life, stroking up and down his dick. A bead of precum appeared at the top. “And now you’re something special. A vampire.”
“And that makes you wet?”
“Yes,” she moaned, leaning over. Her golden curls spilled about his thigh. Her breath was warm as it caressed over the tip of his cock. “So wet. I need to worship you. There’s this voice inside of me, telling me to be bad. To be your…whore.”
Damien savored the delicate shudder that ran through her body.
“Whore. You want that. You want to be my whore.”
“Yes.” Britney’s moan was as wanton as Abigail’s had been when Faust took her.
Damien seized her blonde hair and pushed her mouth on his cock. “Then suck, whore. Put that mouth to use. Worship me.”
Britney moaned about his dick. Damien closed his eyes. Her warmth infected him. Her tongue swirled about the tip of his cock. He had never felt another woman touch him there. Only Abigail.
And now my whore.
Damien smiled as Britney sucked. Her tongue swirled about the izmit escort tip. She didn’t have Abigail’s skill. But she would learn. Her hand gripped the base of his cock as she sucked. His toes curled as the pleasure shuddered through him.
“That’s it, whore,” Damien growled, his fingers tight in her hair. “My whore.”
Another shudder ran through her body, accompanied by a low moan. Her pleasure vibrated his cock. He pressed her down, his cock sliding deeper into her mouth. Britney didn’t fight him. She would let him do anything to her body.
If he commanded her, she would slit open her throat and bleed to death for his pleasure.
His hips thrust up, pressing his cock deep into her mouth. His tip brushed the back of her head. He pulled her head up and then pushed her down. He groaned, savoring her mouth sliding up and down his dick while she sucked.
“You’re eager for my cum, whore.”
Another moan. The scent of Britney’s sweet pussy juices grew stronger, her cunt growing wetter. It mixed with the coppery scent of her blood pumping through her veins and the cream of her breast milk. Damien wet his lips, savoring the anticipation of sampling all her delights.
Her lips were sealed tight as he worked her mouth up and down his dick. The tip of his cock throbbed in her hot depth. Her tongue caressed him when he pulled her up, and then he pushed her down until it brushed the back of her throat.
“Don’t fight, whore,” Damien growled as he kept pressing.
Britney coughed and gagged as his cock forced its way down her throat. She didn’t fight it. She welcomed his cock. She moaned at her discomfort, her throat stretching around his thick shaft. She swallowed, massaging his dick.
“That’s it, whore,” he growled.
He pushed out his telekinesis. He pulled up her jersey, exposing the cheeks of her ass. Pale and delicious. She shuddered at the touch of his mind. He pinched her. She moaned about his dick, massaging it with her humming pleasure.
“Such a delicious whore. You are all mine. Forever.”
Britney’s musk grew stronger.
“That’s right. You are mine. You will help me rescue Abigail. Then you’ll serve us as our whore. Our thrall. Forever.”
Damien’s dick throbbed. He pulled her head up. She sucked the entire way. He snarled, his back arching and his balls boiling. The suction of her mouth pulled the cum out of his balls. He held her in place as the cum erupted.
Britney moaned in delight as her mouth was flooded with his salty cum. She swirled it around inside of her mouth. She drank it down. Thick swallows poured down her throat. Another blast erupted, filling her mouth.
“Damn,” he growled as he pulled her mouth off his dick, his cum staining her lips. “You were good. For a virgin.”
“Thank you, Master,” she groaned. “I am so happy I could serve.”
His canines grew into sharp fangs. He had to feed. “Let me see those tits. I’ve wanted to see them. I’ve noticed them straining your tops. You were always trying to attract my attention.”
“I was,” she panted as she ripped off the Bears jersey, carelessly tossing it on the floor. Her tits were ripe and large, but still perky with her youth. Barely more than eighteen. A succulent treat.
Damien pressed her down as he lowered his lips to her heaving tits. His hand squeezed them, sinking into their warmth. Blood pumped through them. Her milk beaded her pink nipples. A virgin with lactating tits.
What a marvel.
He leaned over and licked her nipple, his tongue swirling around and gathering up the droplets of creamy, sweet milk. The flavor danced on his tongue. He groaned as he let his enhanced senses experience all the delightful nuance.
“Let me nurse you, Master,” moaned Britney.
“I want more than breast milk,” Damien growled.
“I know,” she gasped. “Drink my blood. It’s why you made me your slave.”
“Thrall,” Damien corrected.
Her blue eyes fluttered. “Your thrall, Master. Feed off of me.” Her hands cupped Damien’s cheeks. She pulled him to her nipple. “Use me.”
Damien’s lips engulfed her nipple and areola. He sank his fangs into her areola. Britney gasped, her voice low and orgasmic. Her body undulated beneath Damien as her blood trickled into his mouth, coppery and delicious.
Her creamy breast milk squirted into his mouth, mixing with her blood. Damien’s cock throbbed as he ingested the two delights. The flavors mixed in his mouth, bursting with life. She nourished him, her hands stroking his face as he suckled.
Damien let his hands roam her body as he drank her breast milk and blood. Both were warm in his mouth, a mix of sweet and salt, tanged with copper. It warmed down his stomach. His cheeks hallowed as he suckled greedily for his treat.
“Oh, Master, yes,” gasped Britney. “That’s it. Feed from my tit. Let my body nourish and strengthen you. Oh, I love you, Master.”
Damien’s eyes flicked up to his Thrall. Her blue depths were wet with emotion. She bit her lip as she stared into his eyes. Her body undulated as he nursed. Her heart raced. Her pussy rubbed against his stomach as she humped and ground.
Damien lifted his lips. Blood beaded around her nipple, a trail running across the slope of her breast. He licked it up back up to her nipple and took a quick suckle, savoring the blood and milk mixed together. He pulled her face down and kissed her, sharing the flavors with her.
Britney moaned into the kiss, her tongue darting in, savoring her breast milk and blood mixed together. Her body bucked beneath him. Her flesh grew hotter as a small orgasm burst through her body.
“Master,” she gasped as he kissed down to her other breast, nipping and puncturing her skin, leaving bloody kisses in his wake.
His lips covered in crimson, he sucked her pink nipple into his mouth, her milk flooding his lips. His dick ached beneath him and her pussy smelled so intoxicating. He moved lower, biting and sucking her blood.
“Mmm,” Britney moaned, smearing her blood across her breasts and gathering the crimson beads on her fingers. She brought it to her lips and moaned as she sucked. “I used to hate this flavor, but now…it’s wonderful. My life…”
Damien grinned at her as he pushed her thighs apart. Her pussy beckoned. “You’ll drink plenty of blood.”
Britney smiled and licked her blood stained fingers.
Damien sank his teeth into her pubic mound. The blood flowed, staining her blonde curls and trickling down to the folds of her pussy. Her spread her open, stroking her hymen before he licked through her sweet flesh, gathering her pussy juices and blood.
“Master,” Britney gasped as he nipped her labia, sucking her blood before he found her clit. “Oh, master, you are driving me wild.”
“Good,” Damien snarled. “I want you wild.”
Britney grinned and brought her bleeding nipple to her lips. She sucked her blood and milk, moaning as Damien sucked her clit into his mouth. His tongue flew over it before he nipped the sensitive bud.
Britney’s body bucked as the pain shot through her. She moaned around her nipple as her body thrashed. Her pussy clenched, and her juices flowed out as her cum erupted through her body. Damien drank down her sweet juices and blood, letting the two flavors mixed together.
“Are you ready to be my whore?” Damien growled as he crawled up her body.
“Yes, Master,” moaned Britney. “Pop my cherry.”
Britney’s body trembled as she lay beneath her master. Her body was covered in tiny bites oozing blood. Her lips were stained with the mix of her creamy breast milk and her blood. Every little wound throbbed with agonizing bliss.
Her Master’s cock pressed on her hymen. He stared down at her, his dark eyes commanding her soul. Britney’s heart fluttered in excitement. She was eager for more pleasure. I’ve dreamed of this moment so many times.
Her Master thrust.
Britney gasped as her cherry tore. Pain and pleasure rushed out of her pussy as Damien sank into the depths of her folds. Her thighs locked around his waists as she pulled down his strong, cool body. Her breasts pressed to his chest, smearing her blood into his muscles.
My blood on his cock, his chest, and his lips, the former virgin gasped as her Master’s cock slammed in and out of her pussy.
“Fuck me, Master,” Britney gasped, moaning like the girls in the pornos Mary had shown her. “Pound my cunt. It belongs to you.”
“Yes,” he growled, his lips leaning down to her neck.
Her heart beat faster as his fangs sank into her flesh. She shuddered and bucked into his thrusts as he drank her blood. It pumped out of her in a rush of bliss. To Britney, it was the most intimate act. She fed her Master.
“I love you,” she groaned as her body undulated beneath him.
Her Master sucked harder at her neck. Her pussy clamped down on his cock. Her fingers clawed into his back as she undulated. She savored every inch of his dick reaming her pussy. All the pain and pleasures of her body swirled together.
Damien growled into her neck as her blood flowed into him. Her pussy tightened and relaxed. Her toes curled. Britney shuddered as her orgasm swelled within him. Her moans grew louder. She screamed her delight.
“Fuck me, Master!” Let everyone hear how my Master has pleasured my body. “Pound my cunt. Cum in me. Let my body satiate you. I’m your slave.”
Her orgasm burst through her. Britney shuddered beneath her Master. Her pussy spasmed, milking his cock. She was eager for his seed. Her fingernails bit into his back as his teeth dug deeper into the flesh of her neck.
His body spasmed. His cock slammed into her depths. Her Master erupted into her.
“Yes,” she gasped as her pussy milked him. “Oh, yes, Master. So good.”
Damien lifted his lips, stained with her blood, and kissed her. She moaned, drinking in her blood. Another orgasm rippled through her body. The world spun around her as she was consumed with passion for her Master.
And then he collapsed on her.
She held him. He rolled off of her and she cuddled up against him. He stroked her skin and closed his eyes. All the wounds on her body healed, the pain fading as her body used her Master’s cum to replenish the fluids he had stolen.
Damien fell into sleep.
Britney smiled at her Master. She rolled out of bed and found her jersey, pulling it on. His cum ran down her thighs—she loved it. Her fingers reached down and scooped up the hot treat. You just rest, Master. I’ll make sure you have a tasty meal when you wake up. I’ll take care of everything.
Britney had a bounce to her steps as she walked out of the bedroom. She paused, smiling at her sleeping Master and his strong body, then she headed down the stairs, her bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor.
Aurora watched Britney, her heart breaking for the girl. “What is she doing?”
“Fetching Damien a woman to feed on,” Gideon sighed as he studied his notepad.
The spectacled angel nodded, his face somber. “Her friend.”
If only I had crossed over and saved Damien. Then Britney and her friend wouldn’t suffer. Was obedience to Heaven worth having to see the consequences of my inaction?
“Will he still kill Faust, or will he degenerate into a frenzy of feeding?”
“With Britney fetching him this snack…” Gideon swallowed. “There is a 60% chance Damien kills the girl outright. If he does, he will have a true hunger for blood. He will spiral out of control and lose all focus on rescuing his wife.”
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut. How much damage will my failure cause?
To be continued…
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