The Vampire Kiss Chapter Two: Chained
Introduction:
Damien awakens to undeath chained and is forced to watch his wife degraded by the very vampire that killed and turned her.
Chapter 2: Chained
by mypenname3000
Copyright 2015
Damien’s corpse slumped in the hot tub style bathtub, his vampiress wife and murder still straddled him, convulsing in orgasm as she sucked the last drops of his blood from his neck. Scarlet spread through the steaming water.
Even now, the change transformed Damien. It would be an hour or more before his corpse awakened to undeath. The angel Aurora sighed in disgust as she watched from the Ether, the realm that lay between the Spiritual and the Material Realms. Damien was too good of a man for her intervention to change this fate.
Aurora hated the rules place upon her and her angelic brethren. For every intervention Heaven made, Hell was granted an equal nudge. Even now, some demon was exploiting Aurora’s attempted seduction of Damien.
And it was all for naught. Our tool is on their side.
Aurora turned to Gideon. The lesser angel hovered near her, holding a ledger. Silver glasses rested on his serious face. They were an affectation. Angels could be clothed in any appearance, the only limitation was the sex they could choose. Aurora would always be female, Gideon male.
“What are the odds of success now?” Aurora asked.
There had been a small hope Damien would have detected his wife’s transformation into a vampire and reacted in time to save his life. He had been a skilled Knight Venator, slaying dozens of vampires. If he had lived, his righteous vengeance would have led to the enemy’s death.
“Almost zero without another intervention,” Gideon answered. “Our projections do not end well for Damien.”
“And there is a chance that, even turned, we can use him as our sword?” Aurora found that unlikely. Dark hungers would grow in him, erasing the good man.
“Yes,” Gideon nodded. “It requires an intervention upon a vampire. It may not work at all, but it if does, the odds improve dramatically. Damien’s motivations will be unchanged. He will act as our sword, desiring vengeance.”
“And how shall we stop Damien once we are finished using him?”
“That is a problem for later,” Gideon answered. “We have a chance to strike a major blow against the enemy. We cannot balk at the tools we have been given.”
If only my intervention on Abigail had worked. The odds had been high. But the woman was too dedicated to the hunt to have been swayed. Aurora watched Abigail as she climbed out of the bath, dragging the corpse of her husband behind her.
“She is too much like her husband,” Aurora said bitterly. “We lost two beautiful souls because we are bound by these rules!”
“Aurora,” gasped Gideon. “You tread on dangerous grounds.”
Aurora let go of her anger. “And what happened to Jezebel? Why isn’t that harpy swarming around?”
“I do not know,” Gideon answered as he studied his clipboard. “She doesn’t seemed focused on Damien at all.”
“Then why was she lurking around him in New Mexico?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jezebel had her arms wrapped around Father Augustine’s neck as the distinguished, older priest drove the van through Colorado on his journey back to Chicago. The priest was Damien and Abigail’s chaplain, their spiritual guidance and their connection back to the Jesuit Order that funded the pair of Hunters. He was tall and still strong as he entered his middle years, with wings of gray spreading from his temple through is dark hair.
And Jezebel had to corrupt him to protect a vampire.
Jezebel didn’t question her orders. She was only glad Auroora wasn’t lurking around to spoil all her fun. The demon’s black wings lazily flapped as she whispered corrupting thoughts into Father Augustine’s mind.
The priest was full of suppressed sin, unlike Damien. She loved it. His thoughts brimmed with the nubile women of his parish. He fantasized about their flesh while listening to their confessions, particularly their sexual ones. He burned to take their bodies and show them true, decadent sin.
She was in the Ether, only half-manifested. She had enough corporeal form so his subconscious could hear her words and his body could feel her touch as an excited tingle that kept his dick hard beneath his cassock.
Remember what that little slut Mary wore last Sunday, Jezebel whispered into the depths of his mind. She could see the image of the barely legal schoolgirl rise up in the priest’s mind, wearing a skirt far too short for church. Mary was blonde, perky, and enticing. Imagine her bending over before you, her skirt slipping up, rising higher and higher. But where are her panties?
Sweat beaded the priest’s forehead. He whispered a prayer to God as he fought his lusts.
She isn’t wearing any panties, the naughty slut. Her naked, shaved pussy, the slit so tight and inviting, peaks at you from between her thighs. Jezebel’s own pussy was on fire. She loved the wet heat. Mary is teasing you. She wants you to hike up your cassock and bury your cock in her tight, slutty cunt. She burns to be fuck her over the altar.
The image burned through the priest’s mind. His dick itched. Thoughts of pulling over and masturbating on the side of the road flitted through his mind. Jezebel savored his dirty thoughts as she whispered about how tight young Mary felt wrapped about his cock.
Vows were meant to be broken, Jezebel whispered as the poor priest was in a frenzy of lust. Look at that hitchhiker ahead. Blonde. Young. A slut. Pick her up. She’ll be more than thankful.
“Dear Lord, deliver me from this sin,” the priest groaned as he stared at the girl holding her thumb out as she walked down the highway. Eighteen and ripe for the plucking.
Pull over and enjoy the slut. She wants it. Look at the way she’s dressed.
Father Augustine slowed the van down as he approached the girl. She wore a tight jean skirt that hugged her bubbly ass. It was worn through in spots on her ass, showing off naked flesh. A thong encircled her waist, red and enticing, and her round breasts were shown off by a tight boob tube.
She is asking to be fucked. If not by you, then by a fat trucker. Jezebel nuzzled at his ear. Enjoy her. You’re far from your parish. No one will know. You’ve earned this reward for all the good you’ve brought about.
The van’s brakes squealed as he stopped. The girl opened the passenger door and peered in. She smiled when she saw the priest, the tension melting out of her shoulders and the corners of her eyes. “Hi, Father.”
“Hello, child,” Father Augustine said, still warring with his desires even as his dick ached to take her. “Where are you headed?”
“As far as you’ll take me,” the girl said. “I’m Hope.”
“Of course you are,” he groaned. “Hop in, child.”
“Thanks.” Hope climbed in, her tits jiggling in her boob tube.
Father Augustine pulled back onto the highway, his eyes fixed on the road. Jezebel smiled as she continued to whisper in his ear, driving the priest mad with lust for the girl. The priest’s face flushed and his knuckles grew white on the steering wheel.
See that road ahead, whispered Jezebel. I bet it leads somewhere nice and secluded. Hope is a friendly girl. She’ll understand that she needs to pay for her ride.
Jezebel reached out and laid her hands over Father Augustine. She gripped them and pulled on them, guiding his hands to turn the wheel. To the priest, he would think his lusts had taken over. He had no idea a demon was manipulating his body.
Hope looked at the priest and a resigned look crossed her face. Jezebel knew the girl’s thoughts. This wouldn’t be the first time she had traded sex for a ride. She had hoped that Father Augustine would have been different, and it amused Jezebel no end to see it die in her.
The girl would enjoy it. Her body was built for sex, and even now her nipples hardened. Hope, like many troubled, young woman, had daddy issues. And the priest was very fatherly.
“What are we doing, Father?” asked Hope as the priest stopped the van on the shoulder of a deserted stretch of road in the middle of nowhere, Colorado.
Jezebel reached out and placed her hand on Father Augustine’s then moved it to Hope’s bare thigh. The priest squeezed her flesh and swallowed. Hope trembled and lowered her eyes as the priest, with the demon’s help, stroked up and down the girl’s sleek thigh.
No one rides for free.
“No one rides for free,” Father Augustine repeated, his voice hoarse with desire.
Jezebel reached out and seized Hope’s hand, pulling it to the priest’s cassock over his bulge. She pressed her lips to Hope’s ears and whispered, I understand, Father.
“I…understand, Father,” Hope murmured, squeezing the priest’s cock.
“And there is only one way for a slut like you to pay,” growled the priest.
Jezebel smiled. Those words were all his. The demon leaned back, her intervention finished. She floated in the Ether and observed. The priest’s hand slid beneath Hope jean skirt. Hope let out a soft moan as the priest’s fingers rubbed at the wet folds of her pussy.
Jezebel shuddered as she rubbed at her hot pussy. “Corrupting mortals is so much fun.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Father Hyrum Augustine touched his first pussy in thirty years. Not since he was eighteen and parking with his girlfriend had he felt the hot, slick flesh. They had fucked for the last time that night. She broke up with him the next day, dumping him for a boy with a nicer car, and he made the decision to go to the seminary.
However, Louise May Parker did not have a shaved pussy.
Hope felt so innocent beneath his fingers as he caressed her bare vulva, belying her slutty appearance. The blonde’s eyes fluttered as his fingers stroked through her wet folds. The car seat creaked and her hand tightened on his cock. Father Augustine grinned.
I am tired of not sinning. I could have had this for the last thirty years.
“Oh, Father,” groaned Hope as he pushed a finger into the depths of her pussy. “Mmm, you shouldn’t be doing that. You’re a priest.”
“And you’re a filthy slut,” he growled, shoving a second finger inside of her cunt. Her flesh was hot about him, clenching down on his digits.
Hope only moaned and squeezed his cock.
She is so much like Mary. A slut that teases men. If she hadn’t been walking down the road, I would never be sinning. This is all her fault. That’s all those whores at my parish do—tease men into sin.
“Pull it out,” he growled. “Suck my cock like the fucking slut you are.”
“Yes, Father,” moaned Hope.
Father Augustine groaned as Hope lifted up his cassock. His cock throbbed in his boxers. Her hand rubbed at them as she leaned over, trapping his hand between her thighs. The priest leaned back in his seat, trembling in anticipation of the girl’s mouth on his cock.
“That’s it, slut,” he growled as her fingers pulled down the waistband of his boxers. His dick popped out, waving before her lips.
“Such a bad priest,” Hope purred. “You should be a shamed of yourself, making a sweet, innocent girl suck your cock.”
“You are no innocent,” Father Augustine growled, shoving his fingers deeper inside her cunt. “You are a wanton whore tempting me into sin. Now suck it!”
“Yes, Father.”
Hope’s swallowed his dick, her pussy clenching down on his fingers. The priest groaned as her ripe mouth sucked on his cock. Her lips sealed tightly shut as she worked her mouth up and down his shaft.
His balls throbbed. “Sinful whore.”
His left hand ran through her blonde curls as his right hand worked fingers in and out of her juicy twat. She moaned around his dick, vibrating the tip. His balls throbbed. His excitement swelled in him. The older man growled as his hands tightened in her golden hair.
“Suck it,” Father Augustine growled, forcing her head lower and lower on his cock.
His fingers worked faster and faster into her depths. She squirmed on the seat, humping against his hand and rubbing her hard clit on the heel of his palm. Her mouth sucked harder as her pleasure swelled through her.
“You all are sluts,” he growled. “Terrible, wicked sluts tempting men with your whorish bodies.”
Father Augustine shuddered as her lips sealed about the tip of his cock as they slid up and down his shaft. Her tongue twirled around the sensitive crown before her mouth slid back down his shaft. His balls tightened.
“You’re a sinful Jezebel,” he snarled. “A Temptress. A Whore.”
His hand forced her head down his cock. She struggled as his dick brushed the back of her throat. He had watched many whores in porn deep-throat. It was time for Hope to do the same. The little slut’s deep-throated before. The way she sucks my cock proves it. She’s a whore.
Father Augustine’s cock forced down her throat. Her pussy convulsed about his fingers. Her throat hummed around his dick. Father Augustine’s hips bucked up, thrusting his cock all the way down her throat.
His balls tightened.
The priest came down her throat. “Praise the Lord!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abigail D’Angelo dragged her husband Damien across their bedroom floor. His corpse was pale, almost all the blood drained out of him. His intoxicating, coppery blood still stained her lips and lingered in her mouth. She let go of his corpse as she walked to the closet to fetch the manacles and tools while his seed dripped down her thighs.
That was how a human was turned into a vampire. At the moment of their orgasm they had to be fed upon. Abigail’s body still burned with the ecstasy of her husband’s cum flooding her pussy as his blood flooded her mouth.
The vampiress wanted to cuddle with his corpse and hold him while he changed. She wanted to be in his arms and welcome him into his new life. All night, as she texted with him, she ached for that moment.
But her Sire had other plans for Damien.
“Sorry,” she whispered to her dead husband. She had felt a momentary pang of guilt right before she killed him, but she couldn’t stop her bloodlust or her drive to obey her Sire.
She hefted pulled over the nightstand and easily balanced on it. She swiped the stud finder across the wall and marked their positions. Then she grabbed the heavy, metal bracket with a eyelet welded to the front. It was rated to support five tons, more than strong enough to restrain her husband.
The power drill whined as she drilled the pilot holes. With her enhanced strength and reflexes, she had no problem drilling them perfectly. Then she grabbed the bracket and the bolts and, with a wrench, bolted the plate to the wall. She picked up the torque wrench and perfectly tightened them.
Damien would never escape.
She connected the manacles to the eylet than hauled her husband’s corpse up, latching each manacle to his wrists. He would dangle there, helpless, facing the bedroom window. Exactly the way her Sire commanded.
Abigail locked the manacles with the key then hesitated.
I love him. A shiver ran through the vampiress.
Abigail set the silver key on the nightstand before dragging the piece of furniture back where it belonged. She replaced the lamp on it, adjusting the shade so it was neat again.
Finished, Abigail texted the vampire that raped and killed her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aurora pulled away from Abigail.
“Did it work?” she asked Gideon.
“Too soon to know,” Gideon answered. “But you reached her. Did you see the way she shivered. And she left the key on the nightstand. But you need to do more before the intervention ends.”
Aurora nodded and reached out to touch the vampiress’s foul body. He deserves to know what happened. There is paper in the nightstand. Write it.
Abigail shuddered as the Angel embraced her. The vampiress looked around, her eyes narrowed. She hissed as her skin burned beneath the Holy touch of the angel. Abigail leaped away, landing on the bed in a crouch, her eyes scanning.
“Who is here?”
Aurora pulled away. “Her senses are too well trained,” the Angel lamented. “She detected my touch.”
“It may have been enough,” Gideon said. “Her Sire will not arrive for twenty-three minutes. There is time for her to be a little rebellious. She has the spirit. Look at the way she stares at Damien. She has some of her emotions left despite her Sire’s control on her thoughts. She laments the pain her husband is about to experience.”
Aurora moved to Damien. “I am sorry.” She touched the corpse. Already, the dark energy gathered inside of his body. It would extend to his every cell and rebuild him into an agent of darkness. “We failed to save you and your wife from this fate.”
A tear fell from Aurora’s eye and landed on Damien. It smoked, leaving behind a tiny teardrop branded into his neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damien dreamed as his soul was transformed. Death had not released his spirit like it should have. His wife’s cursed embraced kept him locked in his dead body. He was shackled into his flesh as the darkness consumed him. Flashes of Abigail burned through his mind.
She fought with a vampire in the cafeteria of his school. Her first shot with the crossbow missed as the handsome vampire, dressed in a black suit and red tie, leaped through the shadows, appearing behind her. Abigail spun and threw a vial of holy water, but the vampire caught it and slammed it to the floor, spilling the blessed water across the vinyl tiles.
Abigail was overpowered and stripped. The vampire took her hard as he feasted on her flesh. Caught up in the rapture of his mouth sucking at her throat, she came on his cock before the last beat of her heart carried her into undeath.
When she awoke, her Sire had instructions for her. She texted Damien, lulling him into false security as she returned to their home to prepare her trap. Damien’s soul howled as the darkness bled into him.
And then the hunger arose.
In his dark dreams, Damien’s mouth watered for blood. As his body was reborn into unlife, the coppery scent of his own blood, still staining the now cold water of the bathtub, tickled his nose. He yearned to feel the hot pulse of a human’s artery beneath his lips right before he sank his fangs in and drank the glorious life.
The drive suffused his body. His heart beat again, pumping not only blood but also dark ichor through his veins. As the hunger swelled, his muscles were changed by the ichor. It suffused his body and mind, strengthening his body and enhancing his reflexes.
His eyes would be able to see in total darkness. His hearing would pick up the faintest sounds. It might take him a decade or more to fully grasp all the nuanced variety of his enhanced senses. His nose grew keener, smelling not just his blood, but the scent of his wife’s excitement, the tang of the metal binding his wrists, the Chanel perfume lingering on his wife’s body, the dust in the air, the wax of the burned out candles, the fibers of the carpet, and more. His hearing picked up the sounds of the neighborhood outside the house. Cars passed on the street. Dogs barked. Birds sang. A lawnmower whined. People walked, their footsteps slapping on concrete, asphalt and grass.
Hearts beat, pumping warm blood.
A woman talked, laughing gaily—Britney Lawson. Eighteen, nubile, and busty. The neighbors daughter spoke with her mother as they washed their dog in the backyard. He had found a skunk and now they slathered him in tomato sauce.
Damien’s mind grew sharper. More than just his hunger filled his thoughts. Abigail dominated them. His Dam, the vampire who turned him. She weighed on his mind, her words echoing in his thoughts.
Obey…
Her voice was a whip cracking against his will.
Obey…
Images of their life flashed through Damien. The way she stood stunned over Vincent after Damien had bashed the vampire’s head into pulp, their two friends lying dead around them in their High School’s cafeteria. How her hair burned like fire across her wedding dress a year later while her face lay hidden behind the veil.
Obey…
Her words were lace binding his thoughts, channeling them towards her.
Obey me, Damien…
His heart beat faster. Arousal entered his body, hardening his cock. Abigail slipped out of her wedding gown, wearing garters, stockings, a white thong, and nothing else. That night had been like their first time all over again.
Only better. They knew what they were doing.
You must obey me, Damien…
Abigail appeared in her black combat fatigues, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, a crossbow aimed before her as they stalked through a crypt hunting a vampire. Abigail, her face splattered with white as she swept the paint roller across their bedroom wall when they first moved into their house.
I will be obeyed, Damien…I am your Dam. I brought you back into this world…
Abigail lay in the bath tub, naked, her breasts peaking over the hot, steaming water. Lust burned in her green eyes. Her foot broke the surface, pink from the water’s heat. Her toes wiggled, inviting him into the trap.
Obey me, Damien.
Her voice cracked through his mind. The ichor had sunk into every cell of his body. The transformation was complete. Her commands wrapped about his mind. There was no escaping them. She was his Dam.
I…obey…you…
Damien’s eyes opened and he saw for the first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Britney Lawson’s mother returned from the house, the white apron she wore stained with tomato sauce. Bruiser had been a bad dog again, and had tried to attack the skunk.
“Who was it?” Britney asked as she rubbed the tomato sauce into the golden Labrador’s soft fur. The dog panted, his tongue out, not caring that he was being covered in sauce.
The tomatoes smelled far better than the skunk he had played with.
“Abigail’s family,” Mrs. Lawson answered. She knelt down. “They don’t know what happened to her. She went out before sunset last night and never came back to the hospital or her mother’s house.”
“Oh, she’s back home,” Britney smiled. “I saw Damien this morning when he got home from the airport. Said her mom was fine and she had come on home.”
Mrs. Lawson frowned. “That’s not the impression I got. They were worried. She didn’t tell them she was coming back.”
“Damien was pretty sure she was home.” Britney glanced up at the D’Angelo’s house. On the third floor, their bedroom curtains were pulled shut. “I think they’re getting busy.”
“Britney,” laughed her mom. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“Their curtains are pulled tight, you know what that means,” Britney smirked at her mom.
Britney’s cheeks were flushed. She had had a crush on Damien since she was fifteen. He was strong, handsome, and bold. He was a man, not like the boys at her High School. Britney was glad to be done with High School.
I’m an adult. I can find me a real man know. She sighed. Shame Damien is taken.
The young woman had thought about seducing Damien in the past, but she knew how much he loved his wife. Plus, Britney liked Abigail and it felt wrong to try and seduce her husband away. Even if Damien would make my first time magical.
A chill wind suddenly gusted from the D’Angelo’s house. Bruiser let out a low growl, and Britney gasped at the shock. Her mother frowned. “Strange. It’s such a warm day. Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know,” Britney frowned as she went to fetch the hose. She glanced at the house and furrowed her eyebrows. What was going on in their bedroom?
“I’ll finish with Bruiser,” Mrs. Lawson said. “Why don’t you go pump. I bet you’re getting full.”
Britney nodded. A year ago, her mother had a baby but had issues nursing. So to help her mother out, Britney went through the steps to induce lactation in her own large tits. Now that her sibling was weaning off breast milk, she was discovering a side business of selling her milk to a wealthy woman who couldn’t be bother breastfeeding her child but didn’t trust formula.
It would help for college in the fall.
She walked into the house to fetch her pump. Another cold wind blew and she was glad to be in the house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Damien eyes were wide. Everything seemed so much sharper and brighter. There were far more colors than he had ever noticed before. Their bed cover, which he used to think of as solid blue, had variations in its dyed fibers that darkened and lightened the hue. Light reflected off metal shimmered with rainbow opulence.
The metal restraints he dangled from bit into his flesh. There was no pain. Damien could feel the grain of the metal. What was smooth to the touch felt coarse to him. He breathed in, his nose dissecting a thousand different scents: wood, paint, cloth, carpet, perfume, Abigail, musk, water, blood, dust.
His Dam stepped into the room, naked and lovely. Her hair was a shimmer of reds falling about the light pink of her skin. Her breasts jiggled as she walked towards him, her hips rolling. His cock ached for her.
“My Dam,” he moaned, straining to break free of the manacles so he could fall to his feet and worship her.
“Damien,” she purred, her voice a symphony of delights caressing his ear. She stopped before him. Her hand touched his stomach, sliding up him. A hot flush rippled across his skin. His cock grew harder, brushing her stomach.
“Let me go,” he moaned. “Please. Let us hunt together. Let us feed. Let me worship you as you drink.”
The thoughts weren’t his own. There was a part of Damien that recognized that. But she was his Dam. She had brought him into the world of unlife. His thoughts were bound by one overriding command—obedience.
“That would be nice,” Abigail purred. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his neck. She kissed and nibbled on the very spot where she had sunk in her fangs and killed him.
Fed upon him.
Damien’s dick throbbed against her flat stomach. His balls churned. The caress of her skin on the crown of his cock was almost too much for him to bear. He held back his orgasm, not wanting to spill his cum across her belly.
He wanted to be in her when that happened.
“Please, let me down, Abigail,” Damien groaned. “Let me worship you, my love.”
Her hand caressed up to his cheek. Her sharp fingernail bit into his flesh. His dick throbbed harder. “I do not have permission to free you.”
“Who could command you, Dam?” Damien groaned. “Who has the power to command the sun?”
“You are a lot more poetic this way,” she purred into his neck. She moved away and fell back on their bed, letting out a wanton moan. “Sire, appear before me. He is awake. I need you.”
The shadows moved in the corner of the room. A man stepped out. Tall, straight-back, filling out an expensive, tailored suit. The cloth was black as midnight, contrasting with the crimson tie about his throat. His hair was dark, slicked back, and a hungry smile curled across his powerful lips. He was chiseled from stone, the type of man that would grace a Harlequin romance.
“Sire,” Abigail breathed in worship, her body trembling on the bed. “I have obeyed. I have captured my husband and turned him.”
“Yes, you have,” the man said. He walked with power and grace, a vampire fully adapted to his body. His light-blue eyes fixed on Damien. They were harder than steel or diamond. Damien almost flinched beneath them.
But he had fought vampires before.
But he is my Dam’s Sire. If she must obey him, so must I.
Damien lowered his eyes.
“How delightful,” the vampire said, his voice a dark rasp. “The great Damien D’Angelo chained before me while his wife pants like a bitch in heat for my cock.”
“Oh, yes, Sire,” Abigail moaned. “I need to feel you in me again.”
“Do you know who I am, Damien?”
“My wife’s sire,” answered Damien, still looking down at his feet, his toes dangling inches from the carpet.
“Look me in the eye when I speak to you, pup.” The vampire’s words were a whip cracking against Damien’s ears.
Damien’s eyes shot up. “Sorry, sir.”
Abigail crawled across the bed as the vampire stopped at its foot. She rubbed her cheek against the leg of his slacks like a dog greeting her master. She let out a wanton moan, her dusky-pink nipples hard at the tips of her swaying breasts. Her hand slid up, rubbing at the vampire’s crotch.
Damien’s cock throbbed as he watched his Dam unzip the vampire’s slacks. Her hand disappeared and pulled out a hard cock. With a moan, Abigail sucked the cock into her mouth. Not even a tremble of pleasure crossed the vampire’s lips; his eyes remained focused on Damien.
Abigail moaned as she sucked. Her blowjob was loud and sloppy with her enthusiasm. She wiggled her ass as she worked her mouth up and down the vampire’s dick. Her hands played with his balls and stroked his shaft.
Damien pulled at his chains. He wanted to stroke himself as he watched his Dam pleasure the vampire. He wanted to fall to his knees and lick her pussy, to worship her as fervently as she worshiped the vampire.
“Let me go,” Damien panted.
“Why?” the vampire asked.
“She needs me,” groaned Damien. “Her pussy is so wet. Her scent fills me. She needs me to pleasure her. To worship her. My Dam needs me.”
The vampire laughed as he stroked Abigail’s hair. “It doesn’t bother you in the least that I am violating your wife’s mouth?”
“She is happy,” Damien panted. “That’s all that matters.”
“All that matters,” smiled the vampire. “I forget just how slavishly devoted a newly turned vampire is to his Dam or Sire. The great Damien has no spine. And neither does your wife. How many vampires have you killed?”
“More than thirty,” Damien groaned, his hips thrusting, his cock bouncing. Abigail has turned, her ass facing Damien. She wiggled it. Her pussy was wet between her thighs. Her tart juices filled his nose. He wanted to drink her passion, to become drunk on his Dam. “So many. I lost count.”
“We were just vermin to you.”
“Yes,” Damien groaned. “I killed three last night. Like stepping on a cockroach.”
“Isn’t that what you are, Damien?” the vampire asked. “You and your fellow Knights Venator? Cockroaches scurrying through the darkness.”
“No,” Damien groaned, then frowned. He is her Sire. “I mean, yes. Cockroaches.”
“You are as eager to debase yourself as your wife.” The light-blue eyes grew harder. A sneer curled his lips. “There is no satisfaction in this. Whore, free your spawn from your obedience.”
Abigail popped her mouth off the vampire’s cock. “Yes, Sire.”
She slipped off the bed and padded over to Damien. She pressed herself against him, her nipples hard. She bit her wrist. Her dark-red blood welled up. Damien’s nostrils flared as he scented the rich aroma of her blood.
Vampire blood was more potent than human blood, full of the same dark ichor that sustained Damien’s unlife. She raised her wrist to his lips. He hungrily drank in her blood. Pleasure exploded through him. His cock, already aching, erupted across her stomach.
“I still love you,” Abigail whispered in his ear. Her words were so soft. A human’s ear would never have made out her words.
The blood flowed into Damien, spilling through his body. The lacy bonds of her will snapped, freeing his mind from his devotion to her. She had freed him. She was still his Dam, but she could never again control him.
Damien shuddered as she pulled away, his thoughts struggling to work as he shuddered in ecstasy Abigail moved back to her Sire, falling to her knees and sucking the vampire’s cock into her mouth. The vampire smiled, his hand stroking through her red hair.
“Let her go!” roared Damien. His body heaved against the bonds as he witnessed his wife noisily suck another man’s cock.
“That’s better,” the vampire groaned, a contemptible smile crossing his lips. “There’s the anger and shame. You thought she was your faithful wife. But you know how vampires are turned.”
Images of Abigail gasping beneath the vampire as he fed off of her, his cock slamming into her depths. She orgasmed as she died, crying out in ecstasy. Damien clenched his fist and snarled. He hungered for blood.
The vampire’s blood.
“I’ll tear your throat out,” spat Damien. “You think you’re the first vampire I’ve faced. I’ve been scraping your filthy kind off my boots for a decade.”
“Like you did with Vincent?” snarled the vampire.
“Vincent?” Damien demanded. That was the name of the first vampire Damien and Abigail had killed. They had been seniors in high school with no idea what they were doing. They just knew they had to stop the predator killing their friends.
“Yes, my beautiful Vincent.” A shudder ran through the vampire. “Your wife has a hungry mouth. She is eager for my cum.”
Damien snarled and pulled at the chains. Metal clinked and wood groaned, but nothing budged. “What does this have to do with Vincent?”
“He was one of my children.” The vampire’s eyes closed. His head leaned back as the pleasure built in him. Abigail bobbed her head faster.
Damien’s stomach twisted. It sickened him to watch his wife debased by her Sire. His heart ached and his blood boiled.
“Such a beautiful man,” the vampire groaned. “My favorite. I never should have left him out of my sight. Too bold. He burned with passion and curiosity. Like Pandora, he could not resist temptation. And then you and this whore killed him.”
“We did! I beat his head to a pulp. He was the first cockroach I crushed. Unchain me, and I’ll scrape you from my boot.”
“Such a sweet wife you have,” groaned the vampire. “How she gasped beneath me as I fed off of her. How her cunt spasmed on my cock. She loved my dick. She came so hard. Far harder than you ever made her cum. She is my whore now.
“My delicious whore. I will debase her. I will degrade her. And then I will kill her.”
Abigail shuddered. She noisily swallowed as his cum filled her mouth. The vampire groaned as he spilled in her mouth. He gripped her hair tight, holding her in place. Abigail let out wanton groans as she popped her mouth from his dick.
“So delicious,” she purred. “I am your whore, Sire. Debase me. I’ll do anything for you.”
The chains rattled as Damien howled. His heels beet at the wall, shattering the drywall. He found the studs and pushed against them with his feet, leveraging his body against the chains and the bracket. He ignored the pain in his wrists as his enhanced muscles strained against his metal bonds.
The vampire laughed as he wiped the tip of his cock in Abigail’s hair, leaving behind white streaks of cum. “Your struggle is exquisite. You are a fighter. It is why you and your whore have killed thirteen of my children.”
The vampire seized Abigail by the hair and dragged her behind him as he advanced on Damien. “Thirteen of the most beautiful creatures ever gifted to walk this world. Even Spyke was beautiful.”
“Spyke.” A bitter grin twisted Damien’s mouth. “That weak-willed poser. He was one of the easiest vampires I ever killed.”
The vampire hauled up Abigail. “He was an angel. A being freed from life. You and your ilk shall all pay for the pain you have inflicted on my family.”
Abigail was thrown against Damien. She clung to Damien and wrapped her thighs around his waist. Her pussy rubbed at his crotch, wet and silky. Her clit was hard and she let out a wanton moan as she rubbed her nipples against his chest.
“I’m so wet, Sire,” gasped Abigail. “Fuck me. Please.”
“Abigail,” Damien groaned. Her green eyes filled his. Her lips were open wide, so red.
“I need him, Damien,” she purred. “His cock satisfies me. Not like yours. The way he fucks me… I never came harder than when he took me in the school. I need him to fuck me.” Her hips undulated, rubbing her pussy on Damien’s stomach. “Not you. Your cock never satiated me the way his does.”
“You bastard,” Damien snarled at the vampire as he moved up behind Abigail. “I will kill you. I will free her from your domination.”
“Feel free to try,” the vampire laughed as he thrust his cock into Abigail’s ass.
“Yes,” shuddered his wife, her pussy pressed hard against Damien’s stomach with every thrust of the vampire into her ass. “I love it. Fuck my ass. Make me cum so hard. Show my husband how a real man handles a woman.”
The pleasure shining in Abigail’s eyes were real. Her body shuddered against Damien. He fought to look away as he snarled his rage. Her arms were tight about his neck, and her naked body was so lush against him.
Abigail buried her face into his neck. Her breath washed over him as she gasped and spasmed. Her hips undulated, grinding her dripping pussy across his stomach. She gasped every time the vampire drove his dick into her ass.
“I’ll tear your throat out,” growled Damien.
“There is something so satisfying about truly despoiling your enemy’s life,” the vampire grinned.
Abigail let out a wanton moan. Her thighs tightened about Damien’s sides.
“Killing a man is easy. There is no challenge to it. I could have had your pretty wife snap your neck instead of turning you. I could have put a bullet in your head from a mile away. I could have hired men to burn your house while you slept.
“But where is the fun in that? How do I break you and make you suffer? You killed my Vincent.”
He thrust his cock into Abigail’s ass, driving her pussy against Damien’s stomach.
“Naomi.”
Every name was punctuated with a thrust and a moan of liquid pleasure from Abigail.
“Carl.”
“Frederica.”
“Joshua.”
Abigail whimpered in delight.
“Colt.”
“Rashawn.”
“Jasmine.”
Abigail let out a wordless moan of bliss.
“Ricardo.”
“Marybeth.”
“Tonya.”
“Yunjin.”
“Make me cum on your cock, Sire!”
“Spyke.”
“And now I have spawned my most beautiful child.” The vampire shuddered. “Abigail.”
“Yes, yes, Sire!” Abigail moaned.
Her head threw back, pressing into the vampire’s neck. He bit into her flesh, drinking her vampiric blood. Abigail shuddered. Her pupils dilated. Her pussy ground into Damien. Her juices flooded across his stomach and down to his cock. She squirted as she came hard.
“Such exquisite beauty,” grinned the Vampire. “Your wife is mine.”
“His,” Abigail echoed as she shuddered. Her breasts heaved and her mouth opened wide as she screamed out her passion.
Damien roared and snarled. “I will kill you! I will rip you apart. I will feast on your entrails. She is my wife.”
“Now she is my whore,” grinned the vampire.
He ripped his cock from Abigail’s asshole. His wife slipped to the floor and turned, swallowing the vampire’s cock into her mouth and sucking her ass clean from his dick. The vampire gripped her hair and groaned, his eyes rolling back in the head as he savored the pleasure of using Damien’s wife.
Damien strained against metal, pitting his undead flesh against unyielding steal. His fangs flashed as he snarled, straining to reach the vampire’s throat and rip the life from his body. Damien didn’t care if he ripped his arms out of his sockets.
But his flesh was weak.
The vampire smiled—mocking, triumphant. Victorious.
He ripped his cock from Abigail’s mouth. Abigail’s hand fisted the vampire’s cock, pointing it at her face. “Your wife is the perfect whore,” the vampire smiled. “She wants to be bathed in cum.”
“I do,” panted Abigail. “Please, Sire, cover me. I’m your filthy whore. Your cum slut.”
“No,” Damien groaned. “Abigail.”
The vampire’s smirking triumph never faltered from his lips as his white cum exploded out and covered Abigail’s face. His wife enjoyed it, opening her mouth and catching the raining cum while more lines dribbled down her face.
“Let me go and fight me!” Damien snarled. “Be a man.”
The vampire laughed and picked up a pair of Abigail’s discarded panties. He shoved them deep into Damien’s mouth. “I am far more than a man.”
Damien had to watch the vampire fuck Abigail over and over. Hours passed while the pair rutted on Damien’s marital bed. The sheets were stained in bodily fluids. Abigail’s ass and pussy dribbled with the vampire’s seed. She drank more down and rubbed it into her flesh until she was covered in it.
Damien hung there and watched his wife degradation. I will be free. I will track you down. I will tear off your head with my bare hands.
Night fell and still they fucked. The vampire had inhuman stamina. No matter how many times he came, his cock never softened. Abigail’s appetites were wanton. She burned to be taken over and over, her green eyes staring at Damien as he watched.
He could not look away.
Finally, even the vampire seemed exhausted. He dressed into his suit while Abigail pulled on the little black dress she wore on their anniversary five years ago. They had gone dancing in Chicago that night. The dress still clung perfectly to her.
The vampire ripped open the curtains of the large window Damien faced. The easter horizon lightened.
“Give him something to remember you by,” the vampire told Abigail. “He has an hour at most.”
Abigail sauntered over to Damien, ripped the panties from his mouth, and wrapped her arms around him. She reeked of the vampire’s cum. Damien’s skin crawled. She pressed her ears to his and whispered, “I love you. The key is on the nightstand.” She nipped his ear hard, drawing blood, and added loudly, “Think of my tight body cumming on my Sire’s cock as you watch the sunrise.”
The vampire chuckled. “What a whore.”
“I will get free and come for you!” snarled Damien.
The vampire laughed as strolled down the stairs and Abigail followed. Their footsteps echoed through the house as they made their way downstairs. The door that connected the kitchen to the garage opened. A car started. The exterior garage doors opened, the chain rattling.
The car left, carrying his wife away.
“Abigail!” Damien howled and pulled at the chains. After hanging for twenty hours, his arms were numb. Even his vampiric body had grown weak. The hunger beat in him.
He focused on the key. They were ten feet away. It might as well have been a mile.
The horizon grew brighter. Hints of orange drove back the dark blue. His heart raced faster. There was a chance he had gained immunity to the sun. Daywalkers existed. Every vampire had an ability. The one who sired Abigail could shadow walk.
I am not that lucky. What did I get?
He concentrated on the key. Did Abigail know which I received? Was that part of the process? Why would she tell me about the key? Unless…her professions of love were just part of the vampire’s game. One last twist of the knife, letting me salvation is right there.
I just had to seize it.
Damien knew of ten vampiric powers. Shadow walk, daywalking, and shapechanging would all allow him to escape the manacles. But Abigail told him about the key. He had to grasp on to that. He had to believe that she still loved him.
Despite the change and the dark hungers prowling inside Damien, he still felt like himself. He still loved Abigail. If he didn’t, then seeing her degraded over and over wouldn’t hurt him. He had to believe that Abigail, beneath the domination her Sire had on her mind, was still fundamentally herself.
She still loves me. She is fighting against her control, finding little ways to rebel and aide me.
There was one power that could help him grab the key: telekinesis.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aurora watched Damien stare at the key. “He’s figured out his talent.”
“I think so,” Gideon nodded. “Twenty-three minutes until sunrise.”
Her intervention had worked. She had nudged Abigail in the right direction. “Can he master his telekinesis in time?”
“It often takes dedicated practice for a vampire to perform delicate manipulations. Coarse movements are easy. But to pick up the key, maneuver them to the lock, insert the key, and twist is doubtful. 5% chance he can do it in twenty-two minutes.”
“He’s our best chance of killing Faust Crespo.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Move,” Damien snarled as he concentrated on the key. “Come on.”
The horizon grew brighter. His window looked directly east. The sunlight would be cresting the horizon soon. He didn’t have much time. His forehead furrowed. If he could still sweat, it would be dripping down into his eyes.
“Move.”
He imagined his mind seizing the key.
Metal rustled. The key slid an inch.
Damien grinned. He had been in tight spots before. I can do this.
He concentrated. Grasping the key was like focusing on your little toe and trying to make only it move and not the others. His telekinesis reached out and fumbled, rattling the nightstand as he concentrated. He tried to seize the key and instead ripped the nightstand’s drawer out, spilling it on the ground. A pad of paper covered in Abigail’s flowing handwriting tumbled out on the ground.
“Just the key.” Wiggle the toe.
His breathing slowed as the world began to fall away. He focused on the silver key lying on the stained wood. His mind grasped at it, sliding along the wood and struggling to pick it up. The nightstand rattled again, the lamp wobbling.
The key lifted up.
“Yes.” his breath exploded out of him. A dull ache formed behind his eye.
The room grew brighter.
The key floated through the air. He moved it up to his right manacle. He could just make out the lock. The key was facing the wrong way. He turned it and pressed it against the metal. It scraped and slid against the manacle as he struggled to find the lock.
“Come on,” Damien growled. His head throbbed. His stomach growled. He needed blood.
He could smell blood outside. Humans stirred in the neighborhood. His tongue licked his lips. Hearts beat, only faint murmurs. Damien heard them through walls and distance. The beats called to him as they pumped hot, life-giving blood.
“No,” he growled.
The key caught on a hole. He pressed it forward. The key tried to enter but something stopped it. Panic nibbled at Damien. The horizon was liquid orange. A few scattered clouds were painted with a rosy hue across the bottom.
“Come on,” he snarled, struggling to force the key in. “Get the fuck in there.”
His head ached worse. He strained to maneuver the key. He let out a snarl. His body twitched as he kept forcing his thoughts away from his hunger. He had to insert the key. Metal scrape on metal as he manipulated the key. He bit his teeth against the stabbing pain pulsing behind his right eye. The more he strained, the worse it grew.
Outside, a door opened. Prey stepped outside. The heart beat louder. It was faster. A woman. Damien licked his lips.
“No.” He pushed down the hunger. His telekinesis needed the power. He was too weak to keep playing with the key in such a delicate manner. “Focus. Fight.”
The panic swelled. It was growing harder and harder to fight his hunger. I’m about to die and the damn, fucking key won’t fit in the damn, fucking lock.
“Get in the damned lock!” he howled.
The key twitched as his anger slammed out through his telekinesis. The key shot away and crashed through his bedroom window, leaving behind a hole the size of his fist.
Damien’s body went limp. He had the energy to groan, “Fuck.”
The horizon grew brighter.
To be continued…
