Chained In The Vampire's Dungeon II
After a night in the vampire's dungeon, she's eager for more masochistic sex and her host is only to happy to provide it for her. But is there more between them than pain and blood? This short story is roughly 5,500 words long and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen. More
A night in the vampire's basement dungeon has taught her many things about pleasure and pain. Now she wants to go further, and he's got a couple of tools to use in his next lesson.
When they take things upstairs, it becomes clear that there's more to their liaison than blood and sado-masochism.
Contains blood play, rimming, anal sex with a big wooden dildo and a vampire who cooks for his willing sex-slave.
This short story is roughly 5,500 words long and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.
“Rest.” His pale grey eyes were insistent.
There was nothing else I could do. I lay back and stared at him. Although his skin was as pale as the walls, his dark hair and clothes made him look out of place in such a white room. It was almost like a shrine. Even the windows were white – boarded up to keep out the sun’s rays.
He stroked my face with the back of his hand. A small action that made my heart swell inside my chest. The corners of his mouth curled in a tiny smile and I felt a blush creep on to my cheeks. We’d done so much the night before, but this was different – more intimate than sharing blood. Or other fluids.
The blush grew hotter as my mind threw up all sorts of things we hadn’t tried yet.
He bent and kissed me, quickening my pulse and making me wish that I could move my arms again. His tongue swept around my mouth, stealing my body heat. I groaned into his mouth and my eyes flickered shut. Then I fought my way free of the weakness I felt and raised my arms to embrace him. He held me tight, then laid me back down on the bed.
He took up a bowl from the bedside table and lifted a spoon to my lips. The smell of vanilla reached me and I opened my mouth. Porridge. I hadn’t realised I was hungry until I swallowed the first mouthful. He fed me as if I were a child and I quickly ate it all. He put down the bowl and disappeared from the room before I could thank him. I’d had years to get used to being alone, but I hated to see him leave. An attachment like that didn’t come easily to me. I had to keep reminding myself that it was what I’d always wanted.
He’d told me to rest, but I would have preferred to be with him.
I must have slept, because I woke up in the dungeon. He’d been right about the rest – I felt much better. Stronger. That was just as well, because he’d bound my wrists together and tied me to a hook in the ceiling. I was hung so high, I had to stand on my tiptoes. And my arms were aching again. He stood in a corner of the room, watching me.
On the ground between us was a black leather holdall. My mind ran through a list of what might be inside. Whips? Handcuffs? These sorts of things were outside my experience, but I could imagine. He crossed the floor slowly and reached inside the bag. First, he brought out a roll of black fabric, tied with a bow. Next came a piece of wood, carved and polished to a shine. I leaned forward, climbing up on tiptoes for a better look. He turned, his smile showing me the fangs I’d almost forgotten.