At the Fetish Parasite Ch. 02

As consciousness settled upon her, Donella was vaguely aware of a strange sensation, like being underwater. Her skin felt cold, yet dry. There was an oppressive heaviness that weighed down on her entire body; she felt like she was thousands of feet below the ocean. Her chest hurt to breathe and she couldn't move her limbs. Donella's eyes snapped open in a panic as an icy horror filled her as darkness surrounded—was she really submersed? Slowly her eyes adjusted to her surroundings and she saw that she was in a very dark room. The only light came from a single candle, which seemed a million miles away, on a bedside table. A lone chair stood on the opposite side the table and it held a solitary figure. She seemed a grandmotherly sort although Donella couldn't see her face, well in the low light. The old lady saw Donella's eyes open and she walked over to her. Donella still couldn't turn her head so the old woman gently placed her hand behind Donella's neck, raised it forward, and brought a pewter cup to her mouth. Donella had no idea what it was but it tasted like some sort of sweet nectar; it was thick yet delicious, and she wanted nothing more than to drain that cup, but the woman pulled it away.

"Not so fast, you're still weak," the grandmotherly nurse said, "you rest now, and I will feed you more later."

She had an accent that Donella couldn't place but it sounded like she came from some Eastern European country. The woman brushed her soft wrinkled hands over Donella's forehead in a manner that reminded her of when she got sick as a child and her own grandmother would take care of her. As the nourishment from the cup worked its way through Donella's body, the dense weight that held her limbs abated somewhat, but she was still so fatigued that she soon drifted off into fitful unconsciousness.

Soon Donella was thinking about the past because she had no strength to fight off the painful memories that assaulted her. She missed her grandmother greatly; she had died last year and left Donella on her own. Donella had lived with her since the time she was eight years old, after her mother disappeared and her father went to jail. Donella had heard years later, after her mother had died, that she was living on the streets at that time. She was a lost soul, her whole life was consumed to her addiction of heroin. It shackled her to her fate. As for Donella's father, last she had heard he was locked away in San Quentin prison for murder, after sentencing she hadn't heard from him.

The murder he had committed Donella actually had witnessed. She couldn't remember how old she was but she was having a sleep over with a friend of hers. They were asleep in the living room of Donella's father's house in a run down section of East LA. Her father was a drug dealer and he had always had unsavory types of people in and out at all hours. Donella awoke to the sound of a loud argument coming from the den, which was just off the living room. She saw her father yelling at a Mexican man with one deformed arm. She had seen this man in the house before because her father told her not to stare at his arm, which looked like it stopped growing when he was a little boy. The man yelled back and her father pulled a knife out and stabbed him in the chest. The deformed man's friends tried to pull him out of the house to get him away from her father, but they weren't fast enough. There, Donella's father slaughtered that man, where she numbly sat watching. The deformed man's friends ran and soon the cops were at the house. They led Donella's father away and took her to live with her grandmother.

After that, she had led a relatively normal life. Her grandmother sent her to Catholic school where she spent most of her time taking art classes. After she graduated high school, she went to a nearby community college to get her associates degree in fine arts. Donella had planned on opening her own studio one day or possibly teaching if that didn't pan out.

There, at the school, she had met Tony. He was a playwright and a horrible one to boot, but love is blind and Donella fell hard. After a year and a half, he came to the realization they were "just too different" (translation: It's not me, it's you) and decided to go their separate ways. Tony, didn't have much trouble with the words, "too different" in this case, it had meant, I have a penis, you do not. This was the first and only man Donella had loved and honestly thought that, even though they argued a lot, that they would marry and have a family with a white picket fenced house in suburbia. Now as she lay in this foreign place, she tried to picture her life as a soccer mom, wearing Keds and denim jumpers, and couldn't grasp it. What had happened last night?

The memory of the ceremony came back then. She again tried to open her eyes and look about, and found that the grandmotherly woman was still there, sitting in the chair near the bed.

"Where am I?"

"You need sleep, you are still so weak," the elderly nurse told her.

Donella tried to sit up, her head spun, and she felt like she was going to be sick. A dull throb started in her skull and her vision started to black out. She limped to Donella's side and put a surprisingly strong arm around her. She might have seemed old but she possessed more than enough strength to hold up Donella's weight. She propped her up against the headboard when it was obvious that Donella wasn't going lie back down.

"I will send for Master Dominic, I will see if he can calm you down because if you don't rest you wont heal," and even as she reprimanded, Donella felt safe in just hearing that name--Master Dominic.

She never even left the room, but in a moment, Dominic walked through the door. She must have summoned him telepathically because they looked at each other for a moment, and then he smiled.

"It's OK Brietta, I will take care of her." Dominic told the elderly nurse and then with a slight bow she left the room. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Just having him in the room made Donella calmer. He reached out and stroked her hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Weak. Why am I so weak?"

"Because you are in transition now, you are on your way to becoming one of us and it will take time before your body adjusts to the new gift I have given you. You will soon be immortal, like all of us here, but right now, you are not. You are fragile and you need to be taken care of, soon though you will be impervious to disease or old age." Then he brushed his hand against her neck and touched a very sore spot there. He felt her wince underneath his touch. "You see, now you have to let your body heal. However, I can make it better for you.

"Tell me, my love, what is your name?"

"Donella." She replied.

"A beautiful name," He said in a contemplative whisper.

He put his finger in his mouth and pierced a hole in the tip of it with his front teeth. When he pulled his hand out from his mouth Donella could see a drop of blood forming, and her stomach quickened at the sight. It was almost a feeling between hunger and desire. She opened her mouth to accept his bloody finger and suckled on it like a newborn babe. She realized that his blood was the same nectar from the pewter cup and she felt herself grow stronger the more she drank. Then he pulled his hand away and he placed it against the wound in her neck. As soon as the blood touched her flesh, she felt a sizzling sensation like when hydrogen peroxide is put on a cut, then the pain was gone and her neck was fully healed.

"If I remember correctly," he said with a small smile, "You weren't only bit on the neck," Then he pulled the covers off her body and saw that she was lying there totally naked, "I believe that lovely fair-haired Claire also bit you somewhere else."

Since Donella's legs still felt weak, he gently pulled them apart revealing her most secret spot. At the movement of her legs, Donella felt a sharp stabbing pain grow up from the folds of her sex. Dominic scooped her up into his arms and laid her sideways on the bed. Her body felt like a dried husk and she had no more control over her limp muscles than a rag doll, yet having him manipulate her body felt so relaxing.

Donella had put her complete trust in him and it felt so good to relinquish control to this dominating man. He pulled her knees up in a gynecological fashion with her feet positioned at the edge of the bed with her ass just inches behind them. In a moment, Dominic held the bloodied tip of his finger to that sensitive cut, in that even more sensitive area, and it was instantly cauterized. As soon as he touched her, all pain stopped and Donella's entire body was focused on his finger, gently stroking the flesh around her clit. His blood made his finger slide around and caused her to grow incredibly aroused. Her clit became engorged with blood, which made her thankful that he had sealed the wound, or she might have bled to death. She moaned softly and closed her eyes fully concentrating on the feeling of his hand stroking her. She started to grow wet and Dominic felt her juices slide over his fingertips as he massaged her tenderly. He changed position and he placed his head between her open legs and covered her labial lips with soft kisses. His tongue flicked teasingly against her clit before he slurped its entire length into her moist hole. She could feel the warmth of his mouth and his breath as he drank up her fluids--they flowed out and he lapped them up furiously. He wrapped his whole mouth around her clit, suckling it and he used one of his hands to slip two fingers into her hole. Donella knew she was going to cum, but she didn't know if she could handle it, as weak as she was. Of course, Dominic knew, he knew everything. So he eased his mouth off of her clit while he still finger fucked her.

"Oh, my Lord!" he exclaimed, "I wish you weren't so weak, my beautiful Donella. You taste so good! Just seeing you here so submissive, makes me wish to climb on top of you and fill you full of cum, but I'm afraid the exhaustion might kill you."

He looked so sad just then that Donella felt as if his heart would break. He grabbed the pewter cup off the bedside table and lifted it to her lips. His hand was shaking and he spilled a little on the bed accidentally. He might have been immortal but deep down inside, he was still a man and ruled by desires of the flesh. At that moment, there was nothing more arousing that this man who couldn't fight off his manly urges and to know that she had brought him to this point, made Donella want to fuck him even more. She hardly cared if she was too weak or not, all she felt this burning need to feel him inside of her.

"We will try but if I feel you cannot handle this I will have to leave you be," he said as he fumbled to disrobe.

He then flung off his cowled robe to reveal his naked form. His tattoos were caught in the candlelight and made him have a mottled look. His rock hard cock stood at attention, slightly bent to the left and a pearly drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip. He knelt at the edge of the bed, in front of her waiting vagina. With the help of one hand, he guided his erect penis inside.

Even though she was very excited and very willing, he still seemed too big; Donella was still just a little too tight for him. As his head pushed through her inner lips, it seemed to meet resistance, so he balanced his hands on her hips. Very slowly and very gently, he rocked his hips forward then with each stroke, he managed to push a little deeper. Before long, he was fully inside. He didn't speed up his pace at all, he just kept sliding in and out.

On the backstroke, he would pause as the tip of his penis came close to popping out of her tight pussy, and her velvety lips clenched around it. Then he would ease it back in and he would pause again as she imagined her muscles grabbing his shaft. He felt so warm. His eyes never left hers the whole time he gently plunged deep into her. Donella slipped away from the ecstasy that her body felt and found herself probing into Dominic's mind, as his cock probed her gushing slit. She saw him in a much younger incarnation. She didn't know exactly when it was, but it looked like it could have been Medieval Europe from some documentary. Images flashed through her mind, like Dominic's poverty in his youth, his brief stint in the military, and how an unfortunate night with a whore that lead him to being tapped into his first clan. Memories of various rises to power assaulted her and ended in a coup that lead to his succession to the throne of power at The Fetish Parasite. Donella felt that she might be able to control this mind-probe some, but couldn't dwell too much on it because Dominic's panting above her brought her around. Before too long his breath quickened and he dug his nails into the flesh of her hips.

"I'm going to cum! Oh, my Lord! I'm going to cum now!" he announced then bit his lip.

He gasped suddenly as she felt a spasm jerk through his penis when he strained pushing it as far as it would go inside of her. He held his breath and released it with a shudder. A thin skin of sweat broke out all over his body at the pinnacle of his orgasm. Her eyes never left his face as he clenched his eyes shut tight and he collapsed on top of her.

Donella wrapped her arms around him hugging him tightly to her bare breasts. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest and then he suddenly realized that he might be crushing her in her fragile state. He rolled off and lay down next to her on the bed. She entwined her arms back around him and he fell asleep.

How different this was from last night! What just happened was more akin to "making love" than anything else. This man, Dominic Kayne, had a sensitive side that was amiss from the typical blood-sucking vampire image she had known from superstition.

This man was far from being a corpse. He was warm and Donella could feel his heartbeat. She started to wonder what her abilities were just as she drifted off to sleep.