Consumed Ch. 03

De Valmont was able to ignore the sounds coming from the bedroom very easily. Claire tended to scream during their violent sex, so her pitiful cries could be easily overlooked.

The servants were very well trained. No one asked any questions or went anywhere near the Master Suite.

Or perhaps they were just frightened of him. That is the thought that made him smile.

"Sir." Danforth, standing perfectly straight in his formal clothing, found his master sitting calmly in the morning room, relaxing on a comfortable lounge, his black, scuffed laced boots propped up on a cream velvel ottoman.

"What is it?" the Marquis looked lanquidly at Danforth, coolly noting the butler's nervously twitching left eye.

"The Comte le Angleville is here, Sir. He wishes to see you." Danforth never looked the Marquis full in the face, but remained staring at the massive oil pinting of Lord LeMarchand which resided over the fireplace. Danforth never mentioned the claw marks through his previous employer's face.

"Why are you just standing there then? Bring him in." the Marquis inwardly cursed. Company was certainly not welcome at this particular time.

All too soon, the Comte le Angleville strode in, followed quickly by Duke Renfield, and two local gendarmes, Tomas and Louis. The Comte stood roughly six feet tall, and carried a heavy frame. His black hair stood wildly about his puffy, pale face with its barely visible grey eyes. He had the perpetual look of someone who was smelling something particularly nasty, but his clothes were the finest in France, and he was one of the richest men around--an inheritance brought about by "questionable means"--so he bought respect easily. The Duke, however, was the exact opposite, a slight man with a rabbity face, pale colorless hair, and spectacles. But even though he looked the weaker man, the Duke was known thoughout southern France as a vicious sadist.

"Gentlemen." the Marquis stood, and fancily bowed. When he stood back in place, he motioned to Danforth. "To what do I owe this singular honor of your presence?" Danforth quickly retreated to the kitchen to fetch drinks.

"What exactly have you done with Renee LeMarchand?" the Comte spoke quickly, his bass voice never wavering.

"LeMarchand? I haven't a clue where the old fool has gotten to. Lady Claire must have finally tired of him." de Valmont smoothly lied. He prided himself on being an excellent liar.

"Marquis, with all due respect, please forgive my...hasty...friend." the Duke qlibly replied. "We are not here to question your integrity. Merely to question the Lady LeMarchand. She has not been seen in several weeks. Is she available?"

"Look, dammit, we know LeMarchand is not here. What we are questioning is why you are." the Comte hotly stated, standing up to the taller, heavier man.

"Gentlemen, I assure you LeMarchand has not come to harm at my hands." the Marquis smiled warmly. Danforth returned and stood behind him, holding a heavy silver platter covered in glasses and brandy. "As to why I am here, well, it is no secret the Lady has been my mistress for well over a year. Why shouldn't I be here...in her hour of need?"

"We've heard tales about you, Marquis. Tales of your conquests in almost every wealthy home in Paris. How you seduced not only Madmoiselle Pierre, but her mother as well, not that we fault you there. How the DuMont sisters both turned up with swelling bellies before their Introductions to Society Balls this past fall. Right down the street here, Madmoiselle Constantine was seen to be wearing nothing more than her stockings and slippers and the ruby and diamond necklace you gifted to her. Wearing only that and spinning around in her front room. You, Sir, are no gentleman." the Comte spat in his face.

"Why do you not question the Lady yourself and then be gone from this house?" the Marquis replied coolly. Time enought later to teach manners to this oaf. "Danforth! Go and fetch the Lady."

Danforth placed the platter on a highboy and came forward, his left eye jumping and twitching in its socket. "The Lady, Sir?" he repeating, his voice breaking slightly.

"Yes. Have Vivianne and Annaliese make her presentable." he replied, the steel in his voice missed by none.

"Yes, Sir." the poor butler faintly replied, as he walked ramrod stiff up the stairway.

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Danforth came back down some time later, as proper and formal as expected. His voice betrayed nothing, but his eye, however, seemed ready to burst from its moorings. "Sir, the...the ladies will be down presently."

"Thank you, Danforth." the Marquis smiled quite widely. The Duke and Comte looked at each other quizically; surely this man was mad. Didn't he understand the trouble he was in? The two gendarmes merely leaned against the heavy oaken wardrobe next to the fireplace, and drank down the Marquis's fine brandy.

Lady LeMarchand appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by the Marquis's two beauties. They each held her by an arm.

"My dearest heart, please come and answer these...inquizitive...gentlemen's questions, would you?" the Marquis asked in a bored voice.

All three were completely naked.

"Sir! What in the name of God is this?" the Duke shouted, spilling his drink over the new rug. The Comte merely sputtered and choked.

"Can't you have any better respect for the Lady's things than that?" the Marquis asked the Duke in a scolding voice. "I mean, really now...I just paid for that rug!"

The gendarmes, when they had recovered from shock, reared up and made to charge, but the Marquis held them with a single look. "It would be in your best interest to reamin still, my good men." he growled at them, his eyes bleeding yellow.

Slowly, the Lady came down the steps. It soon became evident she was in a complete state of shock. Each delicate step made her wince and left a bloody footprint in her wake. She swayed from side to side with each step; her eyes were unfocused. The Duke became so wide-eyed, it lookes as if his eyes would swallow his entire face. The Comte took a few steps forward, bu the Marquis grabbed him around the neck with an iron grip. "Stay put, Sebastian." he hoarsely whispered in his ear.

The two other ladies brought her to a halt at the bottom of the stairs; their smiles were almost nonexistent, but their dark eyes danced with great humor. They never even glanced at the four strangers; their eyes remained glued to the Marquis.

"Gentlemen, this is Annaliese and Vivianne, my...my other mistresses." de Valmont said softly as he released the Comte. He motioned them to one side, and they left the Lady standing alone, swaying slightly and staring at nothing. The two vampires went and knelt by his feet. Annaliese wrapped her arms around his leg and began kissing his right thigh. Vivianne laid her head against his hip and stroked his stomach lightly, staring at the men through her glossy hair. He wrapped his hands in their hair and pulled lightly. "Now, do you wish to question the Lady?"

Claire stood at the bottom of the stairs, bleeding from hundreds of bite marks. They started at her neck and covered almost every inch of her body, even including the soles of her tender feet. Only her face remained untouched. The bood had run and dried in long streaks. The bite marks were each small and even, and it was evident the women had done their job very, very well. They had caused as much pain as possible without killing her. Her nipples were particularly raw and swollen as each had been bitten several times over. Her hands drifted aimlessly over her naked body, each finger bearing several bites; she turned to sit on the stairs, and all present saw the damange done to her round little ass. She sat down heavily, a forgotten rag doll, and her legs splayed showing off her ragged, ripped labia. Idlly, she began stroking herself, pulling at her swollen clit.

"What have you done to her, de Valmont!" the Comte sputtered in a low, choking voice.

"Nothing she din't ask for, my dear friend." the Marquis happily replied. The girls continued their slow exploration of his clothed, lower half, his cock evident and straining against the buttons on his pants. He turned and watched Claire as she dipped her fingers into herself. "Lady LeMarchand, for shame." he tsked. "Have the decency to stand up and present yourself properly to our guests."

She did as she was told, slowly climbing to her feet as if she had forgotten exactly how to stand. Wavering a bit, she crossed the fragrant rug to stand before the four men. "For...forgive me, my Lords. Welcome to our home." she sing-songed in an unsteady voice, her eyes never focusing on them. The men were frozen statues, the Comte in abject horror, the Duke...well, the Duke was just imitating them. Keen interest began to shine in his eyes, something the Marquis tood quite a bit of notice of.

"Would you like to make use of her?" he lazily offered, as Annaliese began to pull at the buttons on his fly.

"W...what!!!" the Comte sputtered once more. Really now, the Marquis thought nastily, can't he come up with a better reaction than that?

"Use...of...her. You know, spill your seed somewhere in her vicinity." he replied, laughing at his own joke. Annaliese had succeeded in freeing his hard cock from its confines and both she and Vivianne were running their long tongues over the shaft.

The Duke looked as if her were about to speak, when the Comte went purely crazy. "How dare you, sir. Injure this fine, Christian woman, and then offer her up like some common whore. And you stand before us in...in that condition with your other whores! I challenge you, Sir, to the field of honor!"

The Marquis startled. "You what?"

"A duel, Sir. For the Lady's honor."

"She has no honor, Sebastian. She has been spreading her legs for me for over a year, cuckholding her husband. She will happily give herself to any man I ask her to. Please do not get yourself killed over poor, pitiful Claire." he snarled, his eyes bleeding to yellow in anger, something none of the men noticed. The vampires smiled around his cock. Claire seemed to come to herself a bit as she watched the hardworking women at de Valmont's feet. She knelt down between them and took the massive, purple head into her mouth, sucking on it as if it were her last meal. "You see, gentlemen, this is what she wants." His eyes were once more ice blue, and they sparkled. He wrapped his hands in Claire's thick red hair and thrust deep into her throat, choking her. Bent over as she was, her dripping quim winked at the men, and three sported their own erections. The Comte's small penis, however, shrunk smaller. "This...is...what...she...likes." With each word, he pulled back and then thrust further into her mouth. She mewwed and purred and wiggled in between gags. The vampires made plenty of room and began stroking Claire, their long nails digging at various bite marks. Vivianne laid her head on Claire's back and stared at the visitors; her fingers drifted across the wounded girl's bloody ass and dipped into that dripping orifice. Claire screeched around de Valmont's cock; obviously, Vivianne had dug her nails into that oh-so-tender flesh. "You can join us if you like." de Valmont was losing control; he had been a loup garou for countless decades, and had learned to control the Change, but this was beyond anything even he had done before. Tendons popped and skin ripped and claws appeared wrapped in Claire's hair. Bones shattered and reknit; his legs lenghthened and bent at wrong angles, and he threw back his shaggy head and howled. Claire literally fell off his cock; it had thickened and grew to the size of the Comte's fat forearm. His balls hung heavy; they were the size of navel oranges.

The two vampires sat and grinned widely at each other.