How will Samantha's ordeal with the vampire end?
This is the third and final page of a three-page story. To begin at page one, click here. Contains a degree of explicitness.
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As if he could hear me, his fangs pierced my skin, sinking through tissue to rupture the walls of my artery. Pain shot through me and I clenched my muscles so as not to spasm. Then a warm dampness, as my blood began to flow.
I had assumed his feeding would be silent, that he would clamp his mouth motionless to my thigh as my blood trickled down his throat. But no, he lapped at me like a cat, his tongue dancing across my skin, swirling in the pooling blood, tiny wet noises emanating as he delicately scooped up the crimson fluid into his mouth.
I looked down and met his eyes. Moments ago they had been hard, calculating; but now they were glazed with the pleasure of feeding.
He moaned, low and long, reverberating against my inner thigh. Then again, shorter, higher pitched, almost a whimper.
No! That second moan had been mine.
I tried to squirm back, away from his mouth as I realised how turned on I had become, but his hands held me firm.
“No!” This time my denial was audible. He paused and smiled, without removing his fangs from my leg, then set to work again, faster now, more insistent.
I pushed at his head, trying to force him away, but suddenly other hands grasped mine, yanked them back and to either side. Still more grabbed my futiley-kicking feet by the ankles and I found myself spread-eagled, though still sat on the chair, as my arousal built despite my efforts to hold it back.
Think of something else, I told myself. Anything else.
Thirteen times one is thirteen.
My teeth clenched together to hold back another moan.
Thirteen times two is twenty-six.
A knot of warmth was building in my belly.
Thirteen times three is thirty-nine.
Tendrils of pleasure spread downwards to my sex, coiling deep and tight around my most private parts.
Thirteen times four is fifty-two.
The pull of blood met the heat of my incipient orgasm in a flash that drew a cry from my lips.
Thirteen times five is…
My brain was clouding as blood rushed downwards towards my engorging sex and the twin puncture wounds in my thigh.
…sixty-four? No. Sixty… sixty-something…
I clenched my buttocks to hold back the tide that was threatening to wash me away. Sixty-five? Yes. Sixty-five.
Oh God, yes!
My climax hit me hard, like a hand twisting my guts, wringing every drop of pleasure from me.
This time I vocalised my ecstasy and the vampire’s gentle lapping became a manic suction that drew out my pleasure longer than I had ever before experienced.
But nothing lasts forever, and moments later I was sagging back against the chair, gasping for breath.
I didn’t even feel his fangs withdraw, but they must have for he stood up, not saying a word. He watched me recover, motionless except for when he dabbed blood from the corner of his mouth with a neatly folded handkerchief.
At last he spoke. “I think this will prove to be a most satisfactory arrangement. I’m sorry to have ruined your trousers. Here, take this in recompense.”
He took a bundle of ten pound notes from his inside jacket pocket and threw them at me.
“Wear something more… accessible next time, please. Oh, and nicer underwear. I like crimson.”
A second wad of notes landed at my feet.
I looked down, then picked the money up. I slipped it into my trouser pocket and kept my hand in there, trying to hold the torn material together, as if it were the shreds of my dignity.
Turning smartly away from the bloodsucker and his minions, I marched towards the door, ignoring the taunt of “See you in thirty days” that echoed behind me.
So here I am, walking homewards in torn black combats, a pocketful of money. Does taking his cash make me his whore? No, since I don’t plan to use it as he intended me to. Instead, when I return I will be even better armed. And anti-vampire rockets are not cheap. Not cheap at all.
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This story was first published on Authspot, here.