Fangèd Night

Her back arched against the silken sheets
Fingers flexing against the cool metal chains that bound her to his bed.
Breath came in raspy gasps, the beautiful woman nothing but a doll.
Head tossed and turned, muffled screams against the chain mail that sealed her lips and will.
Fate found in a parchment envelope, sealed with crimson wax before her blood doth spill upon it.
She was his, no longer her own and to lie limp she must.

Candlelight bathed the nude body in shadows
Every dip and valley in the woman's youthful figure aglow from the hand-dipped wax from afar.
Every grain of sand as it fell into the hourglass counted down her freedom. Every.
Last.
One.

Door clicked shut as wild eyes flew open, staring at the predator as he stalked his pray.
Dark curls tickled the bare shoulders of the eternalized man,
Perfection ne'er fading nor changing as darkness came and went.
A smile, a slow wicked smile that flashed the slightest bit of fang as the figure stalked closer.

She screamed, convulsing against the chains, metal biting into her body where no one ever had before as it clanged in the stillness of the room.

Innocence lost.

'My angel' so his voice did say, that sweet and beckoning sound
The power of the incubus as it filled the room around.
His body how it stirred her in ways she shan't admit
For those moments of fear that filled her weren't what caused her fits.
The way his lips fell upon her, the way his hands did feel
They felt right through her body and caressed her inner core.
Through gag and choke and chains alike her body begged for him
And as those fangs doth penetrate she wanted to take him in.

The slave that moved upon the bed, desperate to satisfy, riding both pain and pleasure as the vampire got his high.
The sweet blood of innocence, the virgin no more she'd be, the pathetic doll and strumpet whore forever meant for he.
That is if she could please him, and sate him every night,
Or else her bloodied, wasted corpse shall rot from her last fight.

The fangèd man who had his fill doth pull himself away
A wicked bloodied sadistic grin sent in the woman's way.
Her eyes were closed, her body spent, trails of blood run down her spine
The frightened, 'roused, perfect youth-- her blood the sweetest wine.
If he drained her he didn't care, her death no matter to he:
And as he turned and blew out the candles,
So too, did she.