Vampire Erotica
"Go to Hell, Dave" a sex story by Jamie Hiddler
Pain. My body hurt all over, from the tips of my toes, up my calves and through the very marrow of my thigh bones. My belly spasmed and needles of pain stabbed my breasts, almost bad enough to mask the cramps in my neck. Almost, but not quite. And to top it all, a band of pain encircled my bow like someone was tightening a metal clamp around my head.
I snapped my eyes open. The light from the single dim bulb sent spikes of agony spearing through me and I hurriedly closed them again.
My limbs were leaden heavy and every single muscle ached. My mouth was intolerably dry and I was unbelievably thirsty, thirstier than I’d ever been before in my life.
I tried to remember what had happened, but my mind was a muggy mess, stuffed with cotton wool, worse even than my mouth.
“Ugh,” I groaned.
A low chuckle came from the other side of the room.
“How d’y feel, sweetheart?”
The deep voice, ready laugh and distinctive Scottish accent triggered disjointed memories. A tall, handsome man I’d met at the bar. Leaving with him despite Linda’s warnings. A kiss in an alley. Then a stabbing pain. And now here I was, waking up in a small ill-lit room which smelled of mold and rot.
I rubbed my forehead. “What did you put in my drink?” I managed to get out, over a tongue swollen with thirst.
“Nothing, darlin’.” Another chuckle.
I felt down the buttons of my blouse and checked the belt of my tight, stonewashed jeans. Nothing seemed amiss. He hadn’t interfered with me in my sleep, it seemed.
“Na,” he commented, confirming it. “I’ve no touched you there.”
“Then what? Why?” I was irritated. I should have been scared, but somehow I wasn’t.
When he didn’t answer immediately I risked opening my eyes again, more cautiously. I was lying fully dressed on top of a thin duvet on a wobbly metal-framed bed in a small room with beige damp-stained walls and no other furniture. The shape sitting in the doorframe opposite was the man I remembered. He looked slightly less handsome than he had after six vodkas, but still not at all bad. Wiry, nice cheekbones and a ready, cheeky smile. He’d have made a good rebound shag. Except that he hadn’t. Shagged me, that is.
“Well, how can I put this,” he drawled, toying with me. “Does yer neck no hurt a wee bit?” He brought his fingers to the right side of his throat.
Now that he mentioned it, there was a deep, dull pain there, barely perceptible amongst the multitude of other aches. I copied his actions, feeling my neck, and winced as I found two bumps about an inch and a half apart.
Now I’m not a great fan of the vampire books and movies everyone else seems to love, but you’d have to have lived on Mars not to be aware of them. So of course that was the first thought that hit me. Not that I’d been bitten by a real vampire – there were no such things – but that I’d been kidnapped by some weirdo who thought he was one.
I sat bolt upright and instantly regretted it, every ache becoming a shooting pain.
“I see you’ve put two and two the’gither,” he grinned. “But you dinna believe me, do you? Well you’ll find out soon enough.”
On cue, a strange fire surged through me. It was as if my blood was boiling. It started in the major veins and arteries, spread through progressively finer and finer capillaries then finally into the very fibers of my muscles. It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside.
But in the wake of that came a strange feeling of power. Torn apart, maybe, but then remade. Remade stronger. I opened my eyes wide, glorying in the feel, and my unnamed companion smiled knowingly.
Then I threw up.
“Yes, that happens too,” he chuckled. “Your body’s creating a new metabolism. You dinna need food now. In fact, you can’t stomach it.”
He put the emphasis on “stomach” as I retched once more, the evil bastard.
As I spat out the last bits of the previous evening’s hastily grabbed sandwich, he unfolded himself and stood up. I watched, curious, as he drew a fingernail across his right wrist.
A single drop of blood welled up. I couldn’t have seen it, the way he held his arm, but I could smell it. It invaded my nostrils and seared along every blood vessel and nerve in me. It reached out and grabbed my now empty gut wrenching it into knots of hunger. It called to me and my body answered in glorious song.
I jumped to my feet, staggered as abused muscles failed to steady me, then felt a sharp slicing pain in my lower lip as I bit myself.
I reached up and felt blood – my own blood, which didn’t seem to have the same effect on me as his did. But I felt something odd behind the damaged lip. Shit! I had fangs!
I should have freaked out. But the new me was able to take such shocks in stride, it seemed.
“Aye, you believe me now, eh?” the man, my Sire, asked rhetorically.
I nodded, not meeting his eyes, transfixed by the dribble of blood, visible now that he had dropped his hand back to let me see.
This time my legs carried me all the way to him, and I instinctively began to lap at his wrist. There wasn’t much, but every molecule seemed to ease the mad hunger within me. My gut uncurled and the tension flowed out of me, leaving me with a deep feeling of wellbeing that was almost post-orgasmic in nature.
“So, Sarah, Is that better now?” he asked. “Aye, you told me your name last night, at the bar,” he added, as I looked up at him. “And I’m Lucius, jist in case those particular brain cells got killed off by a’ that vodka you were swillin’ doon.”
My mind was still a mess regarding the exact events of last night. “What else did I tell you?” I asked him.
“That you’d jist dumped your piece o’ shite of a boyfriend. That you wanted to fuck someone else afore you lost yer nerve and went scuttlin’ back to him. And that I’d do.” He grinned at that latter.
“But you didn’t,” I countered. “Instead you...” I searched for the word my vampire obsessed friend Linda used, “you turned me. Why?”
“Why not?” he replied, shrugging.
I stood up straight and stared. I growled. (I actually growled!)
“Easy, lass,” he said, backing off a bit. “I’m jist kiddin’.”
That was just as well. If I truly thought he had turned my life upside down on a whim I’d have been furious. And something told me that my fury would now be more destructive than a whirlwind.
“You kept goin’ on about how yer turd o’ a boyfriend kept beatin’ you up, and fit a spineless shit you were for keepin’ on goin’ back to him.”
“Your words, no mine!” he added, as I growled again. “So when I said there wis a way to make you strong enough to turn yer back on him forever, you jumped at it.”
As he told the story I started to remember. I’d wondered that what he meant, but I’d said yes to his offer with all my vodka-pickled heart without actually asking about the fine print.
“I didn’t expect this!” I blustered. “You to kill me, to make me a vampire!”
“It doesn’t matter if you understood,” he replied, serious. “All that matters is you agreed. Freely. The Devil widna get many recruits if they a’ understood what they were lettin’ themsel’s in fer, would he noo?”
“So I’m in league with the Devil, now, am I?” I sighed.
“Technically, aye,” he replied. “But more a free agent. At least until somebody kills you fer good. Then Auld Nick gets ya.”
I guessed by Auld Nick he meant the Devil. Bother!
“So what now?” I asked.
“Well you could come wi’ me,” he suggested. “I’ll show you the ropes. But is there no ony unfinished business you want to tak care o’ first?”
I knew immediately what he meant. Dave. My abusive ex-boyfriend who’d used me, beaten me, sponged off my meager earnings. Dave, for whom I’d worn long-sleeved tops in high summer to hide the bruises on my arms, then shades in winter to hide the black eyes. Not that anyone was fooled. All my friends knew.
But I could see the world more clearly now. It was if a veil of pathetic self-delusion had been lifted. In its place the universe was revealed as stark, terrible, clear. And un-utterably beautiful.
So, Dave would die.
But first he’d regret every blow he’d ever meted out.
Lucius saw the gleam in my eye.
“You go, lass,” he said in encouragement. “Go get the bastard!”
- - - o o O o o - - -
Dave was watching bedroom TV when I opened the door. My TV, brought with me when I moved in with him, but which I seldom had time to watch between working, and cooking and cleaning for him.
He stood up and strode towards me.
“About bloody time! I had to eat cold fuckin’ curry last night ‘cos you stomped out.”
“So what?” I replied, shrugging.
He paused, taken aback that I wasn’t apologising. But then his eyes narrowed and he raised his hand to strike me.
“So you’ll get what’s coming to you,” he growled, swinging a fist at my face.
I stood there unflinching. At the last possible second my arm shot out, faster than human reflexes could possibly match, and stopped his fist dead. I squeezed and heard his knuckles crack. Just a tiny bit harder and his fingers would have snapped like twigs.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, as I twisted his arm round behind his back then threw him face first into the far wall, cracking the plasterboard with the impact. As he toppled, I saw blood on the wall from his broken nose, and I smiled.
- - - o o O o o - - -
I was surprised how quickly he came to. I’d scarcely had time to manhandle him onto the bed and tie his wrists to the headboard with a blue nylon rope from the tool cupboard.
He took in the situation in a flash, and tugged on the ropes. But I’d tied them far too tight and he’d shred his wrists before he could work the knots loose.
I watched him silently from the chair, cross-legged and still as a statue, not breathing, not blinking.
“Bitch!” he cursed. “Untie me!”
“No,” I replied, firmly. Then I uncoiled gracefully and walked over to the scarlet splatter on the wall. I slowly trailed a finger through the still-wet blood, and languorously licked it clean. As I expected, the blood thrummed through me and my fangs slid out. I had kept my mouth wide open so Dave had a good view, and his eyes registered astonishment.
“What’s this, Sarah?” he asked, cautiously now. “Some sort of trick? A game? I’m not fuckin’ amused!”
He couldn’t believe his eyes, and like a mortal he was clutching at straws.
I picked up the bar of his set of weights and bent it effortlessly into a U.
Then I leaned over above him and guided the index finger of his bound right hand to my mouth. “No trick, see,” I told him, as he felt where the fang erupted straight from my gum.
He went white as a sheet. Almost as white as me.
“Shit, you’re fuckin’ cold!” he exclaimed, as I held his hand. He struggled against his bonds again, trying to escape the feel of the grave.
“Cold, fast, strong, with fangs...” I laughed at his refusal to accept the obvious. “Your little mouse Sarah, your stupid little doormat, is a vampire now. Someone at last took pity on me and gave me a way out of this shitty life.”
“But as the shrinks say,” I added, “I need closure. And that means you die.”
He believed me now. And he was scared out of his wits, as was evidenced by the damp stain spreading across his crotch as he pissed himself.
I laughed. Oh, this was priceless!
But the tight sodden denim outlined his above-average cock, and an idea came to me. A delicious idea.
“I might just cut you a deal,” I began, striking the pose of a ditsy girl. “Goodness knows when I might next get a good fuck, and you were at least that, even if you didn’t really care about me getting off. It always seemed to happen anyway, when I was with you. So here’s how it’s going to work: I’m going to take my pleasure from you right here and now, and if it’s good enough then I won’t drain your blood and leave you a dried-out shriveled corpse.”
“Otherwise...” I bent my right middle and index fingers like fangs and tapped them against my neck, leaving him in no doubt what his fate would be.
Then I looked down at his piss-sodden crotch, which was resolutely still.
“Of course if you can’t even get it up then you’re definitely a dead man.”
He squeaked at that. I kid you not – he actually squeaked!
“So let’s get your kit off, then,” I continued, tugging his trainers from his feet, socks and all. He looked stunned, and hardly reacted when I undid his jeans. “Lift your bum, then,” I ordered him, and he complied without a word, letting me pull his jeans down and off, rapidly followed by his boxers.
Now I was face to face with his cock. But there was something I had to do before I touched it. Like any girl, I have a kink or two, but the taste of piss wasn’t one of them, so I went through to the bathroom to fetch a damp facecloth and a towel.
It felt both weird and kinda kinky, washing his member as he lay there helpless on the bed. Like he was an invalid getting a bed bath. I could have played on the nurse fantasy, but I kept it brief and matter of fact.
Now there was just his t-shirt. His favourite Slipknot t-shirt. In another act of revenge I ran my razor-sharp nail up the front and tore the garment asunder, yanking it open to reveal his superb chest and abs.
He was a wonderful specimen of manhood, I have to admit. He wasn’t the couch potato beer-swilling type of abusive bastard – instead he was the vain and buff self-centred type, and I drank in the sight of him.
I bent down further and kissed she shaft of his cock. It gave a tiny little twitch, despite his terror, and I smiled with anticipation.
Now it was time for me to get naked, too. I kicked off my ankle-length black leather boots and peeled off my jeans. Dave liked to see my bare legs peeking from below a white blouse, and I was going to give him one last look at that. Not out of pity, you understand – just that I had to get him hard if I was going to ride him.
And it was working – his cock was definitely longer and thicker, though it still had to rise off his belly.
Next, my panties. I was wearing crimson lace briefs with little roses on the hips. I’d bought them in secret when I’d resolved to leave him and I’d worn them to the bar. They were going to be my “pulling pants” for what I’d hoped would be the first of many casual fucks to drive him from my memory. How ironic that he was the man I was removing them for after all.
I pulled them down on one side, letting him catch a glimpse of the red lace peeking out from under my blouse then stopped and twirled from side to side, giving him a show. I had the power here, and I’d never felt so liberated in my entire life. It was just a shame that my life had had to end for me to discover it.
The other side of my panties came down next, and I stood there with them stretched taut just above my knees. It was then that I had a thought: I didn’t eat, and I didn’t drink except for blood; could I get aroused? I reached down between my legs and felt the slightest hint of moisture seeping between my intimate lips. Yes, I was going to be OK.
Dave gasped as I checked myself. He thought I was going to masturbate, and it seemed to be getting him excited at long last. I realised he’d never actually seen me pleasure myself. I’d been too shy to do it with him in the room, even under the covers, due to a mix of residual shame from my strict upbringing and fear that he’d take it as a slur on his ability to please me and so beat me.
But heck, if I was going to give him a show it might as well be a good one! I reached down with both hands, spreading my sex with one as the fingers of the other slipped inside. With long slow strokes I began to caress the inside of my pussy, running fingers up and down every fold of flesh. I gasped as my excitement grew, and suddenly it became more about my pleasure than getting Dave hard.
I brushed my finger over my clit. Rubbing round and round I felt it ease out from the protective folds, seeking my fingers as a flower turns and opens to the sun.
I spread my legs wider to give me better access. Now I was standing as if riding an invisible horse, rising onto my tiptoes as my calf muscles tensed. If I’d still been a mortal woman I couldn’t have held the posture for long at all, but I had vampiric stamina now.
I bit my lip as my climax approached then receded, like waves of an incoming tide, each time just a little bit further up the shore. Luckily I’d used my front teeth and not my incisors, or I would have sliced myself abominably.
Faster now, I rubbed myself, chasing that elusive orgasm. I felt myself gaining on it, overtaking, and suddenly the growing knot inside me blossomed into sheer pleasure that filled my belly then surged along my limbs.
“Fuck! Oh fuck, yes!” I cried out as my climax ripped through me. I’d not been a screamer before, managing at best a quiet whimper when I came, but it seemed that the new me was, and I gloried in it. “Yes, oh yes. Fucking yes!”
That last scream came as I had to tear my finger away from my over-stimulated clit. Unable to stand, I grabbed the end of the bed, shaking I came down from my peak.
When the dancing colors faded from my eyes and I could finally see straight again, I looked across at Dave. He seemed shocked and nervous, but he also now sported the most superb erection.
I couldn’t help myself and gave a little growl of appreciation.
But before I mounted him I unbuttoned my blouse all the way down and reached behind me to unclasp my bra. I wanted to be able to play with my breasts as I rode him. On the spur of the moment I let the blouse slip completely from my shoulders, down and off onto the floor. Now I stood naked before him, something I’d seldom had the nerve to do before.
Not that I was ashamed of my physique, I might add. I had a good figure, and knew it. It was just that good girls didn’t display themselves.
I glanced down to remind myself of what I had to be proud of, and was astonished. Whatever the magic had been in my Sire’s blood as it transformed and strengthened me, it had tautened every muscle, toned me, ironed out every wrinkle and faded every blemish away to nothing. The jolt of confidence it gave me powered me as I climbed onto the bed between his feet, moving with sleekly muscled grace like a great cat.
I think I might even have purred.
Gliding up Dave’s body on all fours, my muscles undulated with each deliberate movement. I looked down at his face and kissed him on the tip of his nose. Then I opened my mouth and brushed a needle-sharp fang where my lips had been. Dave froze stock still and I grinned at the power I had over him. Lowering my hips I felt that his erection hadn’t wilted, though, which was good as I really needed it now. Needed it badly. For all my teasing, I really wanted him.
I sat up again, astride his thighs, and held his erection against my belly, stroking it languorously from base to tip, over and over again. Dave moaned.
“Sarah,” he began, then stopped. I knew what he had been about to say. He wanted me to go down on him. It was an almost obligatory part of our lovemaking. But what had stopped him had been the thought of his vulnerable cock being between my fangs.
I’d not intended to suck him off. He’d never gone down on me, claiming it was “yuck,” so now that I was in charge I certainly hadn’t planned to give him the very privilege he denied me. But the thought of scaring the living daylights out of him was just too good to resist.
“Of course, darling,” I said. “You want me to suck you. No problem!”
“No, no, please...” he babbled, tugging at the ropes and squeezing his thighs together.
“No?” I queried, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “But sweetheart, I always do this.”
And before he could say anything more, I straddled his calves and brought my mouth to his cock.
A tiny bead of precum glistened on the tip, betraying his excitement, and I flicked out my tongue to lick it away. It reminded me how much I liked the taste of him. Then I angled my head and touched a fang-tip to the slit on the end of his erection. If Dave had been frozen with fear before, now he was turned to marble – completely motionless and sickly pale. His lips were clamped together and he didn’t dare breathe, let alone speak.
I slid the needle-sharp incisor down a fraction of an inch, snagging the tip of my fang under his foreskin. With a twist of my hand and a circling of my head I could have circumcised him right there and then, as cleanly as opening a tin can. I flicked my eyes up to catch his gaze and knew he was thinking exactly the same thing.
“Sarah, no! Please, no. For the love of Christ!”
I relented. I didn’t want to scare him to death, at least not before I had got my jollies. So I just winked and sunk my mouth down onto him, taking him deep with one single fluid motion.
Later I would discover that there are men who claim the feeling of razor sharp fangs scraping down their cock is the most wonderful thrill in the world, providing one trusts one’s partner. But I don’t think Dave was in a fit state to appreciate the novelty. And as for trust – well his passive mouse of a girlfriend was now hopping between sweetness, flirtiness, horniness and viciousness and he didn’t know which was coming next from one moment to another. And that was exactly as I wanted it, of course.
I tightened my lips and bobbed up and down, twisting my hand round and round at the base of his cock. Dave relaxed a fraction and started to moan, growing marginally longer in my mouth. But I must have grasped him a little too hard, as he suddenly gave a yelp.
“Not so hard! You’ll rip it off!”
We both froze, both thinking the same thing. Yes, I probably did have the strength to tear his cock right off at the base. Given his refusal to give oral, it might even be a more fitting revenge – to emasculate him with my bare hands and then stuff the amputated organ in his mouth.
I thought about it for all of ten seconds. Ten seconds which I guess must have felt like an eternity to him.
Nah.
I’d stick with the original plan.
I bobbed up and down again, my enhanced hearing picking up the sound of him starting to breathe again, even over the enthusiastic slurping sounds I was making.
I reached down and cupped his balls. They were tighter now, higher up against the base of his cock, a warning sign that he was approaching climax.
Well that wouldn’t do. He was categorically not allowed to come before me. Maybe even not at all. So I eased my mouth off him and slid back up his body.
Raising myself on my knees, I positioned the head of his cock against my entrance and held it there.
I looked him in the eyes and he looked back. A look that said volumes. Fear, no maybe even terror, lust, need, and maybe just a hint of regret for what he’d been and what we could have had together if he had allowed me to grow.
I blew him a kiss.
“Stake me, darling!” I cried, and thrust down, impaling myself on his member.
(Yes – corny I know, but every new vampire seems to succumb to ham acting for a while.)
He felt good in me. Hard, but a hardness sheathed in velvet. I sighed, then began to rise up and down on him.
There’s something about the vampire body that gives us superb muscle control, and that includes the most intimate muscles too. Bugger Kegel exercises, just get yourself turned, I say. So as I rode him I massaged him with my inner muscles in a way I guess he’d never felt before.
I threw back my head and grabbed my breasts, squeezing and massaging them. I’d never been so blatant before – the few times I’d been on top I’d either kept a nightie on or pulled the sheets up. But now I was reveling in the freedom to do what I damn well pleased!
“God that’s hot!” Dave murmured.
I looked down and saw he was staring at my breasts as I worked them.
“Oh, no,” I teased him. “No more boobies for Dave.”
He looked hurt. He should have looked terrified and I needed to remind him of his position.
“Maybe even no more life for Dave, if I don’t get off soon,” I added.
He gulped.
Then I looked away, losing myself in the sensations flooding through me. I didn’t think about the man under me any more, worthless piece of shit that he was, except as a cock from which to wring my pleasure. I rode him hard and fast, pinching and twisting my nipples, discovering an unknown taste for pain, hurling myself towards my climax with abandon.
And there it was. A warmth in my lower belly that grew into a blaze then shattered into shards of fire ripping through me.
The initial climax was followed by gales of ecstasy, buffeting me like a ship in a storm. I leaned forward and threw my arms out sideways, the pose Kate Winslet would have adopted if Titanic had been a porn movie, and rode that storm for every last drop of pleasure I could.
I don’t know how long the multiple orgasm – my first! – lasted, but I was starting to come down from it when I felt Dave tense and shoot his seed into me. He’d been slow in coming, probably dulled by his fear of what would happen afterwards, but it seemed he just couldn’t help himself. It gave me such a rush to know that I could wring an orgasm even from a man who was scared shitless of me, and I thrust down hard to milk every last drop from him.
It’s just as well I was wobbly from coming so many times, unable to marshal my full strength, or I might have snapped his hip bone. I’d yet to learn how careful one had to be, fucking mortals, not to break the poor fragile creatures.
“Sarah!” he cried, as he shot his last into me. Well that was a come up for the books: he’d never before called out my name as he came – the self-absorbed bastard – it was usually just a grunt, or an “oh yes!” Of all the things that had happened, that came closest to staying my hand.
Close, but not close enough.
“Fuck! That was good!” I sighed, climbing off his wilting cock and slithering up to sit astride his hard abs. I tickled him under the chin, patronisingly, as if he were a pet cat, then bent to kiss him. “You definitely get to keep your blood in your veins,” I added in a voice silky-smooth with contentment.
I massaged his shoulders and his eyes closed in bliss, only to snap open when my hands closed over his throat, my thumbs over his windpipe.
“Of course,” I added with an evil grin, my tone becoming harsher with each word, “I never promised not to choke the breath from your body, you vile little shit!”
I stroked my thumbs up and down that vital airway which I could crush with barely an effort, and he wriggled in panic beneath me.
“Go to Hell, Dave.”
~
Copyright October 2011, Jamie Hiddler
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.
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