Bride of the Vampire

(Write an erotic vampire story or poem. No restriction on Content Rating this month. All ratings from E to XGC welcome.)

The Stake & Garlic Vampire Contest  (13+) Write about vampires! :-) #377129 by Jenn

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Bride of the Vampire

The problem with modern day is that life is too fast. Cars whiz. Children zoom. Gentlemen rush. Ladies are in such a hurry they don’t even wear heels anymore but wide jogging shoes with thick, ugly inner soles that stink when they take them off.

I prefer the leisure of long ago when a man could sit on a swing with a lady, and it hardly moved for hours – unless he moved too fast, of course. I rarely did that. I enjoyed those slow courtships of yesteryear.

But even a vampire must keep up with the present. So I learned to adapt, somewhat. Yet, when I made the decision to look for a wife, I searched for a girl who wouldn't run past me, one who allowed me to offer the first kiss -- to make the first move. That's right; I looked for an old-fashioned girl, one slightly plump in the right places, one who spoke more like a brook than a city bus beeping in traffic.

I knew I couldn't find such a woman in the nighttime, for my future bride would be safely home, probably reading books by Bronte or memorizing romance poetry. That’s why I made the great shift; I became a Day Walker.

With shades over my slightly reddish eyes and the special medicine that the Vampire Medical Association developed, I found I could walk through the park, glide into libraries, scan the exits of churches, and visit museums. It was the path I had to follow -- for a while, anyway –- until I found my love.

Once, I thought I'd discovered that special woman. Priscilla was a lovely girl, with skin the color of polished bone and hair dark as rain clouds brewing over moisture. She enchanted me in almost every way. But then I took her out, and we dined on fine, burgundy wine, and I heard her laugh. I could never accept that laugh of hers. She giggled and, as far as I was concerned, belly flopped with her huge bursts of guffaws. For all the loveliness of her fragile neck and the throb of her fine-textured jugular vein, I just could never bed a woman who laughed at full throttle. In fact, I couldn’t even bear to drink her. So, I left Priscilla at the table of the Café Meringue, still guzzling the burgundy wine. I hoped she'd one day find someone who'd enjoy her hyena’s call.

There was another lady that I was taken with. She was splendorous, too, but she had bad teeth. Broken ones, in fact. Her canines had completely decayed away. Vampire blood can heal an injured body, but it cannot repair one’s canines. There was nothing I could do. I milked Dorothy Anne of her sweet essence and left her lying on the sidewalk. At least her teeth will never hurt her again.

Months passed. In the nighttime, I draped myself in black for comfort, but I knew I would never find my ladylove wearing such a suit. So each day, although it made me cringe, I slipped into bleached white and prowled the streets in the harshness of sunshine.

One night, while I was taking a short walk for old time’s sake, I spotted a fruit bat, which is always a sign of good luck for a vampire. I slept that night with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.

It must have been that bat which brought the vision of loveliness into my life. I had just stepped down into the street to cross to the city library, when a woman dressed in black set her high-spiked heel on my toe.

I looked down to berate her for her carelessness, but what an incredible sight met my eyes, for that charming young lady blushed. Do you hear me? She actually blushed!

I took her hand in mine and stopped the flow of her apology. The eyes in that little, heart-shaped face of hers stared up at me utterly entranced. The lips parted, and her small, dainty tongue nervously wet the sweet, pink mouth and then nibbled at her bottom lip. I was so taken with the sight of her, I wanted to carry the girl away that very moment. I think if I’d had my black cape on, I would have done so.

But, instead, I bent low and danced my lips across the veins of her right hand. I gave her the vampire look. She paused, her eyes drank it in, and then she froze.

“You will come with me,” I commanded.

“Yes, my lord,” she responded instinctively.

I took her elbow and escorted her back to my house, asking her questions along the way. Everything she said thrilled me. I was even more positive she was the one.

We reached my house; she said nothing as I brought out my key. I inserted it and twisted the lock. When the door opened, of course, it screeched in a most accommodating manner. My guest paled and trembled from the sound, but still she obeyed my summons. Without hesitation, her dainty foot stepped over the threshold, and she entered into my abode.

I offered her delicacies -- some fresh strawberries and a single kiwi, sliced to reveal its inner sweet sections. I had bought both fruits merely for their beauty, but it was convenient, also, for entertaining such a charming prospect.

The woman wet her lips again in the same inviting manner, but it was so innocently done, I knew she wasn’t even aware.

“Thank you, but no. I mustn’t stay. I have to go back to work,” she whispered, still deeply inside my trance.

“You will not go to work today. You will stay with me,” I told her. Then I smiled into her eyes and took up her hand. I turned it over this time and licked her palm.

“Oh,” she sighed, and her eyes widened into twin emeralds. “I don’t know what has come over me. I feel so dizzy.”

I nodded. “Yes. It is all right, little one. What is your name, my sweet? Tell me.”

“Jillian. Jillian Sanders, my lord,” she replied with the almost robotic, captive voice of those in a vampire’s power.

She was amazingly receptive to my will. That delighted me as much as the beauty of her dainty face. I scanned her figure once more as she sat quietly, her hands in her lap, her back perfectly straight. She was plump in the right places, yet her tiny waist was little more than a hand’s breadth. Her hair was midnight, her features perfect, her lips the rose of twilight. I took her hand and studied it; her fingers were long and slender. I bent toward her and ran my tongue across the uncovered skin of her neck; how tender, delicate, and charmingly scented it was.

As I examined the girl, her adorable tongue once more flitted out to lick her lips. It was a nervous gesture, one she was innocently making, but the sight of her tongue stirred me. I smiled and nodded at her. She was perfect, in all ways -- a very delicious, young woman.

“What do you do for a living, Jillian?” I asked her, examining the smooth plains of her high cheekbones, running my eyes once more across her full, yet perky breasts.

“I’m a librarian,” she whispered. “That’s why I need to get back. I’m late because I had to attend the funeral of my friend’s father. That’s why I'm wearing this black dress today, you see.”

“You look very nice,” I told her, letting her see the appreciation in my eyes. “Your pale skin and curvaceous body are displayed most suitably.”

Again she blushed and looked down at her lap. “I must go,” she protested again.

“You may not,” I commanded, and I watched as her hands nervously clung to each other.

“I have a far better job for you, my dear," I added with a more gentle tone.

“A better job?” she echoed, looking up at me with her question. The beauty and sweetness of those sparkling eyes and the dark black lashes entranced me.

“But I love my job . . ." she insisted.

“Ah, but this position will offer you lots of travel. We shall fly frequently around the world and dine in exotic cities,” I promised her, taking her hand to squeeze and caress.

She sighed, “Travel? Oh, I would love that. You don’t mean France, do you? I would die to go there.”

I smiled at her wording. She was so very innocent. The coldness in my heart warmed without even an inflow of fresh, warm blood.

I didn’t need to enhance my control over her, but I took pleasure in doing so. Once again, I bent forward, and this time, I nibbled just a bit on her neck. Her skin was erotic, flavored by the beat of her pulsing life force. My teeth pierced her pale white skin, and I tasted her blood.

“Oh,” she sighed. “What are you doing? It feels so good. Oh, my!”

Her little verbal sighs were sending added strength throughout my body. I warmed and expanded in a certain place. Yes, this was the woman I wanted; I had found my dark angel.

Gently, I slid my hand onto her knee. She didn’t protest. She was entranced by the feel of my lips sucking the first sips of her blood. I edged my hand up her leg until I reached the even warmer part of her inner upper thigh. She didn’t fight me; in fact, she moaned breathlessly. Without thought, her slender torso adjusted itself to allow me greater access. Like the mysterious moon plant, her white petals opened to me, and soon I touched the delicacy inside her.

“I never knew,” she sighed. “It feels so…” Her lips couldn’t find the words. I was positive she was blushing again.

I tasted her lips and gathered in her tongue. She whimpered but didn’t move away. I knew each step I took with her must be as orchestrated as a ballet. She was enraptured with my power, yet shy and afraid.

My fingers twirled, teasingly dancing across her tender parts. Unable to deny me, she clung, unconsciously sending me deeper. Repeatedly, I glided toward the inner part of her and then backed away, returning to the site of her womanly passion. Thus, I dallied with her innocence, forcing her to know a new kind of hunger.

She was moist as a dew-kissed rose when I inserted my finger deep inside her. I thought I had won her over, but she recoiled.

“No!” she cried out, as if awakening to herself. “I can’t. I’m a librarian.”

I chuckled silently, amused once again by her naïveté, but for a moment I halted the plunge of my finger and played, instead, with her lips and tongue. Thus I eroded her conscious thought, and again she fell deep into my spell.

“I’m going to take you upstairs now, my little Jillian, and lay you down in the crimson satin of my bed sheets. Then you will understand, my sweet, the joys of love as we tango with our bodies.”

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered breathily, once more entirely under my enchantment, yet I saw that her eyes were full of tears, even though she could not argue with my summons.

My heart felt almost human at that instant. Amazingly, I found that I cared. How unvampire-like! I laughed at that stray remnant of human emotion. Yet, the truth remained. For some reason, I didn't want to hurt this lovely child-woman.

“Trust me, my little one. Trust me,” I said. "I will pleasure you more than any normal man possibly could.”

Jillian’s hands wrapped around my neck as I carried her up the long, winding staircase. Her hair had fallen down; it was long and black as night sky. The ceiling’s chandelier cast a gentle light which streamed across her neck and along her luscious, heavy locks. In seeing that, I felt more passion for this woman in my arms than I’d felt for hundreds of years. I stopped on the steps and kissed her, soul deep.Then I carried her the rest of the way, and I breathed the candles alight. Thirty-five of them were spread across the mantels, armoires, and bureaus. The white of the ceiling reflected them back at us. It drew my Jillian's eyes.

“Oh,” she said. “I feel so brazen.”

“Look at me,” I ordered her, and as she did, I pulled her dress up over her head and tossed it aside, exposing long, white limbs and the secret of her intimate under garments.

She blushed as she caught my eyes. “My lord, I am so embarrassed.”

I smiled. Her bra was lovely – a sweet pale pink with tiny roses at the satiny crease between her breasts. Her panties matched, most charmingly skimpy and setting off her perfect mound in the most pleasing manner.

“You are lovely,” I said. “Absolutely lovely.”

“But you will think . . .“

I laughed. “I will think that you are the most beautiful woman in the world? Yes, I do think that, my love.”

I lifted up, away from her, so I could disrobe, but as I unbuttoned my vest and shirt, I enjoyed the wondrous sight of her. The crimson sheets, her dainty pink under garments, and that pale, almost vampire-white skin created a perfect picture. This time, I sighed as I quickly removed my trousers.

Jillian's eyes followed me. I could tell that she liked what she saw. She smiled again with that streak of childish purity, but I knew she had no idea what I really had in mind for her. My nibbling at her neck hadn’t warned her at all.

I bent to touch her lips. She still trembled. She was unsure of herself and of me, but her arms opened, and she invited me back to lie down atop her.

“No, my dear,” I whispered in her ear as I arranged my body on the bed beside her. “We have years and years together. I shall woo you slowly, like a fine wine that must be savored by its smell, texture, and taste. We will explore a bit before we swallow and enjoy the essence of it.”

“Oh,” she said, trembling even more. “My lord, I will do whatever you wish -- if only you will kiss me again.”

Never has a man heard such evidence of innocence. We were both almost fully unrobed, and she asked for something so pure and virtuous. She was a jewel, my lovely, little Jillian. I kissed her lips gently but thoroughly, and then when she was so bemused with emotion she could not speak, I began to stroke her smooth, white skin.

She didn’t stop me with her hands or her voice, but her trembling increased, a sure sign that the power of the spell had lessened. Once more I bit into her pulse of life. I tasted her, and then I drank -- not enough to weaken her greatly, but a sufficient quantity to increase my power over her. Her blood was an ecstasy.

She groaned from the pain, but her body did not reject me. Instead, she flailed with fresh desire. I ran my hand down her smooth, flat stomach, and once more I touched the soft, dark hair of her pleasure’s center. She opened to me, but I did not dally there. There were other places I wanted to explore, in particular, the sweet mounds of her lovely breasts which were heaving with desire.

My hands slid upward to cup those delicious attractions, but her dainty pink-laced bra deterred my play. I lifted Jillian up slightly, nipping at a fresh new place on her fragile neck. She whimpered, but again she did not pull away. It was the third and final bite. If I had not been so hot with desire, I fear I might have gloated, for I was enormously satisfied with my choice, and she was now almost fully mine.

I removed the frilly obstruction of her extremely feminine, pink, rose bra and flung it onto the floor. Then I lay my bride back on the crimson sheets and allowed my hands to roam.

“My lord, I can’t take this,” she cried out suddenly. I eyed her lips, her love-drugged eyes. She was scorched by desire. My sword of pleasure ached with the recognition of Jillian’s readiness. Wild with desire, it brushed against her thigh and lengthened until I feared it would burst at the mere touch of her. Ah, the pain and the sweetness of my expectation . . .

Outside, the sun was setting. Winter’s shortest day had just ended. My heart sang. My blood congealed, and it was all I could do not to seize my adorable, young bride in a quick embrace and a deep plunge of enjoyment. But again, I restrained myself. Two hundred years I had waited for Jillian. I would force myself to go slowly.

Yet, the warm, plump heaviness of the hot flesh I held in each hand was numbing all my resolutions. I nibbled and sucked at them, giving each perfect orb its due. But Jillian was vibrating with need. She moaned and cried out, “My lord!”

“Will you have me forever?” I demanded.

Her eyes opened, and she stared up at me. I could tell she was still entranced by my power, but her mind was sifting through my words, trying to pull out the meaning. She whimpered, and her young body shifted in an attempt to pull me down with her hands and her strong young thighs into that most desirable of positions.

“My lord, I am yours,” she said, and I took that to be her ultimate answer. Drugged by my power and by her lust, I knew it was most unfair, for little Jillian had almost no will left to refuse me. But I had done what the vampire code demanded; I had given her the right to refuse.

“All right, then, my lovely one. It is fated, Jillian. You shall be my wife, to live forever at my side.”

“Wife?” she whispered, and her eyes opened wider. “You want me to be your wife?”

I thought the notion had pulled her out of her enchantment. I feared that she’d suddenly back away, but instead she smiled. “Yes. Forever, my lord. Take me. Take me.”

I grinned at that. The words of passion were as foreign to her nature as a bat is to water. But I liked what I saw in her eyes, for she was full of passion and squirming delightfully beneath me, already showing me the natural rhythm of her lust.

At that moment I wished I had more than two hands. I wanted to hold her bounteous blooms of womanhood, to stroke the softness of her skin -- everywhere, but even more than that, I wanted, I needed to be inside her.

One hand remained cradling her fullness; the other one slid lower, enjoying its passage. The texture of Jillian's delicate skin was the smoothness of cream. But I had a distinct destination; I was barely able to savor the feel of her, for my head was in a fog of such urgency that I could scarcely keep my hand from forcing me inside her -- sharply, abruptly, passionately.

Yet, I didn’t. I found the soft wetness of her lower region, and my fingers teased and prodded until the lovely body beneath mine writhed and bucked.

“My lord, please, please,” she cried.

I have never teased a woman as I teased my Jillian. Yet, I believe the rewards were well worth it. For when at last I introduced myself to her and plunged downward, although she was a virgin, her cry was not of pain, but of pleasure.

I took her over and over again. A vampire can do that whenever he likes, for although we experience the spasm of pleasure that comes with the success of our union, our organ never dies out or becomes tired. So I rode my ladylove until I exhausted her, until she was so fully sated she could no longer speak or moan or cry out in delight.

Then I returned to the softness of her delicate neck, and I took fully what was mine. It was not so easy to get Jillian to do what she must, but in the end she was far too exhausted to fight me. So she drank of my blood, and then I took her out into the night to begin her education.

Three centuries and three decades have now passed since that fateful day. Yet neither Jillian nor I have ever once rued her awakening or the sweetness of our journey, a journey begun on one magnificent and delightful wedding night so many, many years ago.

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