Torture Me – a Fallen From Grace Short

 

Torture Me

a Fallen From Grace Short

by Nicola C. Matthews

 

**A word from the author:

This is a short based in the Before the Sun Rises universe. It is a rough, unedited draft. It is a spoof, a parody, and meant to be fun. It pays homage to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and one of my fave bands, Davey Suicide. The characters and events in this short are completely fictitious. While some similarities to real persons, places, and things may be intentional, the story is not to be taken as fact. Any similarities between real persons, places, or events which may have been intentional was done so to pay homage only. This story contains violence, adult themes, situations, and language and is intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.

 

Copyright 2019 Nicola C. Matthews

All rights reserved.  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to any other written publication is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover art and interior graphics by

Bloody Feather Graphix Team

 

He blinked in the dim light, his eyes quickly adjusting as he stared at the woman who was standing in front of him, still holding the hood which had previously been covering his head. He tried to speak, but his words were muffled, incomprehensible from around the gag stuck between his teeth.

She smiled, a mere stretching of the muscles, but it didn’t quite reach her blue eyes.

“Nice to see you’ve decided to join me, Suicide,” she said, her voice quiet and relatively unremarkable.

He frowned, his head pounding, a relatively new sensation for him. Or at least one he had not felt in well over three decades. He couldn’t say he really missed it, the throbbing pain in his temples which usually followed a night spent binge-drinking and partying.

He tried to speak again, mumbling.

“Sorry,” she said as she reached out, her hand pausing in midair. She tilted her head, regarding him as she spoke. “Now don’t do anything stupid, hear me? You do and I’ll put this right back in place,” she said as she popped the ball gag out of his mouth.

He licked his full lips, brown eyes staring at her. She seemed oddly familiar, but then again, he had seen and met so many women over the past few decades of his undead life. It was hard to be sure. His nights were nothing but a sea of roaring fans, days shut up either sleeping or creating the next album.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked. His words were still slightly slurred, his brain fuzzy and sluggish, another feeling he did not miss since becoming immortal.

“Oh, where are my manners. I’m Phoenix,” she said as she tossed the gag to the floor. “Better now?”

He nodded, his dyed locks dancing in the air. He decided not to say anything for the time being as he studied her. He needed time for his senses to return to normal. Right now everything seemed impaired, even his sense of smell.

He followed her with his eyes as she paced slowly back and forth in front of him. He was sure he had seen her somewhere before, and not just at a concert. Her eyes were the type of bright blue one didn’t forget easily. The rest of her, however, was another matter.

Her hair was the same shade of auburn and fire-engine red he’d seen on literally thousands of other women both young and old. She was short, at least compared to his six-foot-four-inch frame. Neither pretty nor plain, but she wore far too much makeup and was dressed in the most hideous leather-and-latex ensemble he had ever set eyes upon. Her cheeks were round, her hips even rounder, and she tended to favor her right leg when she walked.

“What the hell did you dose me with?”

“Blood Burner. It was either that or Ultra-V.”

That explained it. That shit would knock any self-respecting vampire on his ass, the mixture of hardcore tranquilizers, hallucinogens, and downers making for one head-pounding cocktail.

“You know Ultra-V can put a vampire into a death-coma for months, right?”

“Yeah, which is why I decided to go with the Blood Burner. I need you alert and coherent.”

She stopped in front of him, quiet and still, watching him. She crossed her arms beneath her chest, her tacky outfit squeaking slightly as the synthetic fabric rubbed together. As the seconds turned into a minute, and then two, she began impatiently tapping the toe of her knee-length high-heeled boot. She looked like a Halloween reject who was pissed because she couldn’t go trick-or-treating.

“Well?” she finally asked.

“I’m sorry, did you want something?”

Her mouth popped open.

“Did I?” she stopped, shaking her head as she sighed. “Yes, I do actually,” she said as she leaned down to place her hands on the armrests of the chair he was occupying. She moved closer to him, just staring into his eyes.

He took a deep breath, an unconscious habit he had obtained over the years, breathing in her scent, trying to figure out what she was. His nose must have still been on vacation. All he could smell was the latex of her outfit, the coconut scent of her shampoo, and the various scents of grease, oil, and gasoline still lingering on the concrete floor. Her skin, however, still remained a mystery.

“And what, pray tell, is that?” he asked as he turned to look off to the side. “Did I fail to sign enough autographs for you? Did your shirt fade? Did my manager promise you some one-on-one time? Because I don’t do that shit, at least not any more. I’m sorry if he suckered you into sucking his dick or something-”

The sound of flesh hitting marble echoed through the dim room. He hardly felt it.

“Dammit!” she squealed as she jumped back and cradled her hand, dancing around as if her feet were on fire.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Human, huh?”

“No,” she hissed as she shook her hand, the pain quickly subsiding. She turned to stare at him, her blue eyes glowing in her face, elongating slightly before going back to their human shape and color. “Not exactly.”

Shifter? Metahuman? Something new?

He sighed. This was getting out of control. He had no idea what was going on, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was quickly telling him he needed to get out of this situation, and fast.

“Lady, it’s getting late. Just tell me why I’m shackled to this chair and I’ll see what I can do. No, I’m not going to turn you, probably couldn’t even if I tried, seeing as you’re not even human. At least not fully. No, you can’t have my blood. And contrary to whatever stories my shitty manager may have told you, I don’t go around sleeping with random humans, metahumans, werewolves, or whatever you are. I don’t feed from fans, or ask them to be my companion for the duration of the tour. I’m sorry if you did any type of favors for him, but you still have to buy a meet-and-greet pass just like you do with a human band.”

“What?” She shook her head, laughing a bit. “Favors? Dude, this isn’t the eighties. I’m not a groupie, a fang-whore, or a vamp tramp. I don’t want you to turn me, I don’t want to be your companion, and as far as your manager goes, just – eww.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Your debt,” she stated flatly.

“My what?”

She grunted. “Has listening to all that metal fried your brain? Did you forget about little Buffy’s birthday party?”

“Buffy?” he asked, his angular face completely devoid of any emotion or recognition.

“Buffy Corleone.”

He still stared at her blankly.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“For the love of my soul,” she muttered as she walked out of his line of sight.

He could hear her moving around behind him, the sound of something scraping across the floor, metal against concrete. He winced, the sound like nails on a chalk board.

She returned a few seconds later, pulling a large table with her. It was littered with various instruments – gags, restraints, forceps, a drill, hammer, some type of medical retractor, and a various assortment of floggers and whips. She positioned the table to the side, her hands skimming over the variety of tools and toys.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what your kink is, but I’m really not into all that. No judgement or anything. I mean, your kink is your own, but I’d really like to leave now.”

He watched her closely, the nervous fluttering of his stomach growing in intensity.

“Don’t be absurd. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then why are you dressed like a BDSM mistress from hell?”

She looked down at her outfit before giving him a go-to-hell look.

“You know, I’m really going to enjoy this,” she said quietly as she reached down to pick up one of the floggers.

She walked around to the back of his chair, the sound of metal gears and cranks filling his ears. The chair he was in moved, transforming, breaking apart as he was slowly put into a standing position, his arms stretched out to his sides. The rusty mechanism groaned in protest as it was locked into place.

“Now, where was I?” she asked, not expecting an answer as she walked back in front of him, flogger in hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve been reading on the Reddit forums, but I’m seriously not into this scene okay? I know all the fans keep saying I’m a sub or a bottom or whatever after that Torture Me video came out, but I swear none of it is true. It’s just a music video. Whatever this Buffy chick told you is probably a lie. Sorry if I hurt her feelings.”

“Again, not what this is about,” she said as she turned back to the table, examining the equipment.

“Butter beans!” he suddenly yelled.

She glanced up at him.

“Tacos? Basketball! It’s basketball isn’t it?”

“What the hell are you talking about, man?”

“Derek put you up to this, right?” He laughed. “Leave it to Derek to come up with the best practical jokes. But there’s always a safe word. If I guess it then I get to go. That’s how this works.”

“Wow, you are something else,” she said. “You really don’t remember promising the head of the Corleone coven that you would play at his childer’s birthday party?”

“So … not a practical joke then? Dammit,” he muttered as he sighed. “Look, I’m not in charge of tour dates, I just go where my manager tells me. I’m sure it’s just a mix-up.”

Her arm whipped out, faster than a normal human, her fist landing squarely on his jar. His head barely moved, the resounding crack of flesh hitting marble filling the room, but it was still a solid blow.

“Dammit, that hurt,” he said through clenched teeth.

He opened his mouth, working his jar to the left and then the right. She sure packed one hell of a punch to be so damn small.

“It’s not supposed to feel good,” she replied. “Now, do you or do you not remember promising the head of the vampire mafia that you would make a special appearance for his childer’s birthday party? You owed him some money, couldn’t pay because of the whole legal thing with your last label, so you agreed to a tradeoff – you and the rest of your band show up as the special guests for his childer’s birthday party, play a two-hour long set, and your debt is forgiven. This ringing any bells?”

He was silent for a long moment, making her wonder if he was just going to shut down on her completely. Finally he nodded, a slow movement of the head.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, feeling his undead heart sink to his feet. This shit was not going to end well. “I gave him Bud’s name and number, told him to call with the date and time. Told Bud to make sure he cleared our schedule for whatever date Spike gave him. That was the last I’d heard of it. We don’t have a break in our tour for another three months. I assumed we would be playing that party during our time off.”

“Well, Suicide, that would put you about four months too late.”

“Wait. What do you mean, four months late? When the hell is her party?”

“It was last month, on the thirteenth to be exact.”

Fuck.”

”Well, you are most certainly fucked, that’s for sure.”

“I’m going to kill my fucking manager. I should have known better than to leave something like that up to him. I can’t believe he would do something like this, though. It has to be a scheduling mix-up or a conflict – something. He wouldn’t just ignore Spike’s calls.”

“You trusted a guy named Bud, so what did you expect?”

“You’re not funny.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Look, if you’ll just let me call Bud, or Spike for that matter, and I’ll get this whole thing straightened out. We can reschedule, maybe bring in some more bands this time. I’m good to my word. I owe Spike, and I’m willing to make this right.”

“Too little too late I’m afraid,” she said as she tossed the flogger to the side and picked up the drill. “A vampire’s childer only celebrates her one-hundredth birthday as a member of the undead once, you know. Since you failed to hold up your end of the deal, the time has come for you to pay.”

“I can get the money I owe him. Tonight. Just let me make a quick call and I can have all of it delivered before the sun comes up.”

“Again, it’s too little too late. Spike isn’t interested in your money. Now he’s after your blood.”

She flicked the switch on the drill, pulsing it a few times, the high-pitched whine filling the room.

“You can’t kill me. There are too many people who know I’m indebted to the Corleone family. Too many vampires know of my connection with him. I don’t show up for my set tomorrow night and everyone is going to know who axed me. The last thing Spike wants to do is draw more attention to his coven. The Council would have his head.”

“I have no intentions of killing you, Suicide. Lucky for you, Buffy is such a huge fan of Suicide Nation she managed to talk her sire out of dusting your ass. That’s not to say what I’m about to do won’t be incredibly unpleasant, but hopefully it will be a nice reminder of what happens when your debts go unpaid. Something to think about the next time you get cocky at the tables.”

Phoenix turned on the drill, pushing it quickly into his leg, the tungsten drill bit easily ripping through his marble-like flesh. The engine let out a piercing shriek as it hit bone, the stench of burning vampire flesh filling the air as blood poured down his leg in tiny rivulets. She pulled it out and immediate plunged it back into his leg a few inches over, driving it down until the metal bit was buried as far as it would go. She pulled it out and repeated the same process again, and again, and again.

He winced at first, teeth clenched, but as she continued to force the metal bit into his bones over and over, his uncomfortable grunts soon turned into howls of agony. He grew lightheaded as the blood seeped out of the holes, his body rushing to heal itself before he lost too much of the precious elixir.

“There, that’s eight so far,” she said as she pulled the drill out again. “You keep screaming like that I’m going to have to gag you again. Sensitive ears and all,” she said as she took a step back, looking up at him with a large, happy grin on her face.

“What the hell are you doing? I told you I could get Spike his money. Why are you doing this?”

She ignored his questions, her only response to plummet the drill back into his leg two more times.

“There, now. Ten more on the other leg, and then we’ll move on. My orders were very clear. You missed Buffy’s one-hundredth birthday party, so you get one-hundred of whatever punishment I deem fit. Dealers choice,” she added with a laugh.

He screamed as she repeated the process on his left leg, the pain so great his body was shaking. He could feel the cracks snaking up his bones from the wounds, the rock-hard frame cracking beneath the abuse even as his body healed itself.

“You know,” she said as she took a step back to admire her handy work, “I’ve always wondered if you separated a vampire’s leg bones if you could make them taller. Let’s put that theory to the test, shall we? How about another two inches to your height, make it an even six-and-half feet?”

She grinned at him before turning sharply on her heel, tossing the drill onto the table. She picked up the hammer, a chisel, and the odd-looking metal retractor before moving back to him. She bent down to look at his wounds, reaching out to rip the denim from his legs, exposing the injuries.

“Hmm, you don’t seem to be healing up as quickly now,” she said as she moved closer.

She straightened up, inching closer to him as she stood on her tip-toes, her eyes searching his face.

“Maybe you just need some refreshment,” she said quietly, her lips a few centimeters from his. “I don’t know if you particular like harpy blood, but I’m not opposed to giving you a little taste to make you feel better. Can’t have you passing out on me, you know. Where would the fun be in that?”

She inched closer, tilting her head to the side, exposing the length of her neck.

The rhythm of her heart came to his ears, quick and steady, like the humming of a bird’s wings. He could hear the rush of her blood through her veins, feel the heat of her flesh. The scent of her skin came to him finally, spicy and sweet, unlike anything he had ever come across in all his years as a member of the undead. He felt the desire stir, the thirst for blood and the hunger for sex, all intermingling together as it always did, feeding on each other, until he could no longer distinguish his lust for blood from his lust for the sins of the flesh.

“What’s to stop me from ripping your throat out?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he regarded her through half-closed lids.

“I’m tougher than I look,” she replied, looking up at him through her black, mascara-coated lashes.

He felt the cold, sharp tip of the chisel against his temple, pushing just hard enough to slice through his skin. He hissed, but didn’t try to resist.

“This won’t kill you, but it’ll take your brain long enough to knit itself back together that you won’t be able to walk by yourself for a few months. I’m sure that’ll put quite the damper on the rest of your tour.”

“You know I won’t be happy with just your blood,” he said hoarsely, feeling his fangs already growing longer as the scent of her flesh and blood called to him. He wanted to feel her blood on his tongue, taste her on his lips, feel himself buried inside of her.

She smiled as she looked at him, her lips brushing across his as she pressed herself closer to him. She slid her hand down his chest, the tips of her fingers digging into the waistband of his jeans. She could feel his muscles contract beneath her touch. He looked so delicious strapped to the rack, helpless, completely at her mercy, just the way she liked her men.

His lips captured hers, brutal and demanding. She moaned, pressing herself closer to him, one leg wrapping around his waist as the chisel fell from her hand, clattering to the floor, forgotten as the desire rushed up to claim her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand gripping the hair at the back of his neck, pulling him closer as their tongues danced together, teasing, tasting.

“Cut!” a deep voice yelled somewhere behind her.

She grunted, breaking their kiss as she place one hand on her hip, turning around sharply.

“Ugh, now what the hell is wrong?”

“Tone it down, Nikki. We’re shooting a horror flick here, not a porno.”

 

End

 

For info on the Before the Sun Rises Series, its characters, slang terms, and behind-the-scenes information, check out the Before the Sun Rises Companion Piece on Wattpad. Ready to start the adventure? Grab The Red Fang, book 1 in the Before the Sun Rises Series for just $0.99.

 

The Dark Flame – a Fallen From Grace prequel

Looking for more Before the Sun Rises action? Don’t miss your chance to read the prequel to the next exciting adventure! Check out The Dark Flame now and get a jump-start on the next Before the Sun Rises installment.

Haunted by his past, Akito is determined to finally put his demons to rest. Unfortunately, the Fates have other plans. Forced to face his childhood head-on, he sets out to extract the justice owed to him. Will he complete his revenge with his mortality intact, or will the Fates prove too harsh a mistress?

Read this exciting three-part prequel now for free through WattPad.

#vampires #paranormalfantasy #gothicromance #gothic #urbanfantasy #occult #chakra


			

Fallen From Grace Minisode 1: Blood Beginnings

 

 

 

Fallen From Grace – Minisode 1: Blood Beginnings

Copyright 2017 Nicola C. Matthews

All Rights Reserved

Click here to read about this series.

NOTICE: For those who like what you’ve read so far, I’ll be posting more chapters of this devious tale over on Royal Roads. You can find me under the nickname that many of you are so fond of calling me – NikkiMatt. If you are into surfing the net and want to read more, head on over to RoyalRoadsl.com and see what goodies you can find.

 

Chapter 1:

“And, and you know what – what else?” he asked as he sat swaying in his chair slightly.

Aleria looked over at Gnash, the master vampire of the Fallen From Grace coven. He had been a regular at the Leather and Lace Gentleman’s Club for the past two years, maybe longer. He was always there every Friday and Saturday night during her regular shift, from sundown until just past three in the morning, a few short hours before dawn. He was always sitting on the same stool, wearing the same leather jacket, jeans, and black shirt, his shoulder-length straight black hair half-heartedly pulled back away from his face.

The longer he sat on his stool, the drunker he got, which was the whole reason for him being there. In the past few years, they had talked about a great many things – her life, his life, her goals, history, music, politics, and any and everything else which popped into their heads. The drunker he got, the more he talked, and the funnier he got. They had become pretty close, and she had her suspicions that a less-than-ideal home life was the driving force behind his consistent visits in recent years.

“Gnash, darlin’, don’t you think it’s about time you headed to your coffin?” she asked as she wiped down the bar. It was nearly four in the morning, well past Gnash’s usual self-imposed cutoff time. The place was almost empty of vampires, fang-whores, and vamp tramps, the last few incapacitated humans being roused from their fang-gasm induced slumber and dropped into the club’s own personal cab service.

She glanced over at the manager as he hefted a young man from one of the corner booths, her bright blue eyes drawn to the movement more so than anything else. The young man’s gaze caught her own, and he sobered up just enough to wave. She tried not to smile. It seemed no matter where she went, if there was a supernatural in the area they were going to find her. Vampire, werewolf, it mattered not. They all seemed drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“Nope,” Gnash said in answer to her question, the word slurred as his body tilted so far to the left she thought for sure he was going to fall right off his stool. “I’m gonna, gonna stay right here until I finish this drink, and then, then I’m gonna …” his words trailed off as he glanced down at the empty glass sitting in front of him. “Who the fuck drank my Black Leather?”

Aleria snorted, grinning at him as she wiped a stray piece of hair out of her face. “You, did, Gnash, about fifteen minutes ago.”

He looked at her, his dark brown eyes taking in the strawberry-blonde hair which was barely still held in its elastic band, the tendrils outlining her round face like a halo. She was wearing the same black shirt she always wore, with the little “L&L” embroidered on the left shoulder, her skin and hair a stark contrast.

“Damn,” he muttered before he hiccupped rather loudly. “Guess my blood-to-alcohol level … finally, finally … tipped over in favor of the sauce, huh?”

She giggled as she took his glass and tossed it in with the other dirty glasses. “You gonna be ok to get back to the coven?” she asked as she began cleaning up the bar in earnest. “It’s only about an hour until sun-up. Don’t want you getting your ass-cheeks toasted.”

He sighed as stood up, grabbing hold of the edge of the bar to steady himself. She eyed him suspiciously. “You know we got a few coffins down in the cellar in case of emergencies.”

He shook his head as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few twenties. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, but thanks. This shit wears off entirely too quickly. Guess it just comes with age.”

“Guess so,” she said as she watched him lay out three twenty-dollar bills. “You know your money is no good here, Gnash,” she said as she shoved the wad of cash back across the bar.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not for the drinks, it’s a tip for you having to put up with my drunk ass all weekend.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I have to share my tips with all the rest of the shitty staff around here, right?”

He took the bills and rolled them up, leaning over the bar and covertly stuffing them into the front pocket of her jeans. “Then don’t tell anyone, ‘kay?” he asked as gave her a wink.

She shook her head as she laughed. She wasn’t sure how many times he had slipped a twenty into her jeans pocket over the years, but she was very grateful. If it hadn’t been for him, there were plenty of times she would have gone hungry. The job didn’t pay too damn well, and since she was forced to share her tips with literally everyone else on staff, it didn’t take long for the really good tips she earned from some of the vampires to leave her virtually empty-handed. Gnash was the only one who knew she was forced to share her tips and started sneaking them into her pants pocket every chance he got.

“See ya around, kiddo,” he said as he turned to leave. “Stay outta trouble.”

“Good night, Gnash,” she said as she waved, watching him stagger down the steps toward the exit.

She sighed as she looked around the bar. With the exception of the dirty glasses, she was done for the evening. She picked up the heavy plastic flat and lugged it back to the kitchen. She debated on just leaving it for the kitchen staff, but thought better of it. Last time she did that she ended up getting her ass chewed out for not ‘pulling her weight.’ Sighing, she loaded down one of the heavy-duty dishwashers and clocked out for the evening, yawning as she flung open the back door.

She stopped for a few seconds and stretched, letting the cool breeze wash over her skin. She could already feel the slight difference in the temperature change, the coolness of the night giving way to the warmer patches of pre-dawn air. She yawned again as she shoved her hands into her pockets, walking slowly down the back alley toward her small apartment two streets over from the club. She whistled quietly to herself, enjoying the short walk. She really loved this time of day. She thought maybe she would climb the fire escape to the roof when she got home and watch the sun rise as she oftentimes did.

She heard the sound of shuffling feet and raised voices as she rounded the corner. She stopped, staring in disbelief at the scene playing out inside the small back alleyway. She could see him, Gnash, half-collapsed over the side of a garbage dumpster, his body limp and flopping around like a rag doll as he tried to right himself, two unknown figures standing to one side. His head was bleeding, his shoulder length black hair matted on one side. He was struggling to get his feet back under him, his impaired balance putting him at a great disadvantage as the other two vampires closed in on him.

Aleria didn’t think, she only reacted. She reached into her back pocket, pulling out the small can of vampire mace she carried on her at all times. It was the one thing Gnash himself had always insisted upon her having with her working at the club. Safety, above all else. She had never had reason to use it – until now. She rolled back the safety lever on the small hand-held can, bending down to scoop up a large chunk of brick as she walked toward the three of them.

“Hey!” she yelled as she came upon the two vampiric vultures hovering over Gnash, their backs to her. One of them turned, and she swung her arm as hard as she could. The brick contacting with the vampire’s skull made a sickening, crunching sound. The kickback vibrations from the blow traveled up her arm in record time, causing her to yelp in pain as the brick went flying out of her hand. She held her arm close, watching the vampire as she took a precautionary step backward. He didn’t make a sound as he crumpled to the ground. The other vampire turned just as she straightened up, her body pivoting as she depressed the button on her can of mace, aiming right for the guy’s eyes.

The sickly smell of rancid butter and garlic hit her nose as the fine mist flooded the other vampire’s orbital sockets, the allergic reaction instantaneous as his eyes immediately grew red and swelled shut. He screamed, his fingernails clawing at this face as the combination of concentrated garlic oil and silver nitride burned his corneas. He stumbled back, falling to the ground next to his friend and thrashed about on the ground as he howled in agony.

She wrapped her arm around Gnash’s waist, bracing herself against the dumpster. She pulled at him, trying to help him back to his feet as he mumbled incoherently. A second later she felt a cold, heavy hand on her shoulder, the nails digging into her flesh as she was pulled back so quickly she had time to do little more than gasp. She felt herself rushing through the air, as if she was flying, and then the pain engulfed her neck like a white-hot branding iron. She tried to scream, but the arms around her waist were crushing the air right out of her.

She could smell metallic scent of his blood. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the vampire she thought she had knocked out cold had bitten straight into her jugular. There was no escaping him, his bite, or what he was about to do. His hand grasped the waistband of her jeans, popping the button off and ripping the fabric as if it were nothing more than paper as he shoved the cloth down around her upper thighs. He bent her over slightly, all of this happening in less time it took her to blink. The realization he was fucking her barely had time to register in her muddled mind as he hammered into her, over and over again, his cock harder than steel as he sucked the life right out of her.

The piercing pain in her neck gave way to a splintering euphoria which quickly morphed into the most intense sexual pleasure she had ever felt in her short twenty-five years of life. She knew the vampire was quickly draining the very life force from her body, and yet she hardly cared. She knew he was fucking her like she had never been fucked before, hammering so hard into her he was bruising every inch of her skin he touched. She knew there was the very real possibility she may die this night, and she was utterly powerless to stop it. As the crashing waves of pleasure settled in her midsection, her body suddenly exploded, her entire groin pulsing and throbbing as the vampire induced fang-gasm spread out like a burning wildfire. She moaned, her body convulsing around the vampire cock as one of the hands holding onto her waist slide down, cupping itself over her pussy as the heat radiated out of from within.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry for help. She was completely trapped within his embrace as her life was taken from her, even as his bite and crude thrusting forced her body into the most intense pleasure imaginable. The waves of pleasure crashed over and over again, each orgasm barely ebbing before she a new one crashed down around her, each more powerful and intense than the last. She was slipping away, her vision growing dark even as her body yearned for more.

The air came rushing back into her lungs as she discovered herself in a small heap on the cooling ground. She rolled over, pulling at her pants as she tried to look around but her vision was so blurred, her head pounding as the small amount of blood left within her rushed throughout her body, trying desperately to save itself.

“Gnash,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a cracked whisper. She tried to reach out to him, but her arms felt as though they were made of lead. In the back of her mind she knew she was dying. She thought she should be scared, should be fighting this more, but she was so tired, and so cold, and in so much pain. She just wanted the pounding inside of her head to stop, to give in to the tempting slumber and never awaken.

Someone was saying something right beside her ear, but she couldn’t make out the words. She was suddenly moving, the wind flowing over her body so quickly she began shivering uncontrollably. She moaned, the pain nearly unbearable. Her body felt as if it were made of glass, each step putting her in more pain than the last, as if her entire being was a split second from shattering into a million pieces.

Something hot and wet slipped past her lips, the taste metallic and oddly sweet. She tried to push the object away, but it persisted. “No,” she murmured, her open mouth allowing more of the elixir to flow down her throat. She involuntarily swallowed the concoction. It burned as it flowed down her esophagus, her body immediately growing warm as if she had drunk a shot of whisky. The warmth was quickly followed by the same intense sexual pleasure, her already over-stimulated nerves and raw body responding rapidly to the fresh vampire blood slipping quickly past her lips.

She wrapped her hands around the wrist pressed against her mouth. She sank her growing fangs into the hardened flesh, only vaguely aware of someone swearing beneath his breath as he stumbled. Suddenly they had stopped moving, the two of them pressed into the corner of a building as she drank the life-giving nectar quickly, pulling harder as she drank down each mouthful as quickly as possible. She could feel him inside her mind, the barest of glimpses into his. She saw the two of them standing in the shadow of the building, feel his arm wrapped around her waist as he held her tightly to his chest, his face buried in hair.

The pleasure inside her body intensified until she was once again moaning in pleasure, her core pulsing and throbbing so intensely it was almost painful. One of them was moaning, and she wasn’t sure if he was him or her as he pulled her closer, his twitching cock pressed against her stomach.

The arm was suddenly wrenched from her grasp, causing her to hiss. She squirmed within the arms still holding her, trying to get away.

“Be still, dammit. Fuck, Skitz is going to crawl my ass for this,” she heard Gnash say quietly next to her ear.

“Gnash?” she asked as her vision began to slowly clear, the entire night exploding inside her line of vision in high-definition.

“Yeah, it’s me. Be still for a few minutes, let me get ahold of myself. We’ll be home in just a few minutes.”

He held her for a few more seconds before he adjusted her weight in his arms and took off running, her head bobbing up over his shoulder for a brief second. That’s when she saw it, the blinding light inching its way over the horizon. Fear immediately set in.

“Gnash, is that – is that the sun?” she asked, feeling her erratic heartbeat jumping around inside her chest.

“Yeah. We’ve got maybe three minutes before the first rays hit the city.”

She shivered. “Are we going to make it?”

“Not if you don’t shut up,” he said as he jumped down from the rooftop.

She nodded, hunkering down closer to his body. Everything was so bright, but the horizon was like nothing she had ever witnessed before. It reminded her of being inside a train tunnel with a runaway locomotive barreling down on them. Only this one wasn’t just a train, but a red-hot laser of death waiting to scorch them all straight back to hell. She imagined witnessing a nuclear bomb detonation would look very similar.

Aleria suddenly felt their bodies lifted into the air, the feeling of sudden weightlessness causing her to gasp. And then they were flying down a tunnel, sliding past the stairs so quickly it was all little more than a blur.

A second later they were still, and she discovered herself standing inside a covered courtyard, the warm glow of gas-powered street lamps giving off just enough light for her adjusting eyes to be able to pick out the centuries old crumbling brick holding up the wrought-iron gates. She looked around as Gnash set her on her feet, giving her a few seconds to just take it all in.

“Come,” Gnash said as he took her hand, urging her gently forward. “You’re home now, Aleria. And you’re safe.”

 

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