tagNonHumanAwakening Alexa

Awakening Alexa

byLexikos12©

~My first submission to Literotica is a short story I wrote for a friend. It is a vampire's search for his eternal companion, the one with whom he will spend eternity--and her initiation into his erotic world. I hope you enjoy this as much as my friend did. Feedback is always welcome so I can improve my writing skills for your pleasure.~

Being a vampire is even more than it’s cracked up to be. I must laugh, but it is the truth. Forget moldy coffins, stinking crypts and slinking in the shadows in clothes more suited to a production of the Three Musketeers than the modern age. Real vampires do none of those things. We adapt. We must. Vampires have evolved into chameleon like creatures able to acclimatize quickly and seamlessly into whatever age they live in. I own Jaguar, a Porche, and two Harley’s. My computer equipment wouldn’t make Bill Gates envious, but it was top of the line and updated on a regular basis. I am a wealthy man, and live a life most only dream of.

Nor do we have to feed every night, or drain our victims to the death to sate our hunger. The human body contains approximately two gallons of blood. Two gallons, my dear readers, is a great deal of blood, far too much for any one creature to consume in one sitting.

There are, however, several truths about vampires humans did not mistake. We are nearly immortal, and we are lonely. Our kind is rare. The making of a vampire by another is a rite considered so extraordinary, so great a gift, no vampire would ever share that gift without a great deal of forethought, planning and careful consideration. From the first vampire—whoever they were—to the modern age, all vampires were chosen for their beauty, intellect, strength of will and mind. It takes a rare, rare human to become Vampire. Insanity is not an option. The fledgling must be able to sustain centuries of loneliness and solitude without going mad. They must understand, above all things, the great and wondrous gift they have been given, and the consequences of sharing that gift with one who is unworthy.

The woman standing over my bed was young, only nineteen, and a runaway. Tara’s father had molested her and rather than wait for him to complete the final act of incestuous rape of her virgin flesh, she had chosen to run away. She’d not remained a virgin long on the streets of L.A., where I’d found her six months later. By then, she’d been a crack addict, and a whore. I’d picked her up, taken her home, and made her Mine. Her will was mine.

But lest you think I am a cruel bastard for stealing away her choice, believe me when I say her life was far more pleasant under my care. She is clean and sober. She had the pool house as her personal domain, as well as use of the pools (three of them) Jacuzzi, my cars, and personal gym. She slept on silk sheets every night, ate the finest of foods, and dressed in clothes from the best boutiques and shops on Rodeo Drive.

All I ask of her in return is that she kept my house running smoothly, and saw to my personal “needs”. She is a whore, yes, but she is a well paid whore and serves only one master now. When I was done with her, I would put into her account a generous sum of money, memories of having been a wealthy man’s personal secretary, a burning desire to make a decent life for herself. By the time she was thirty she’d be a college graduate, perhaps with a fiancé or husband, and children. But for the moment, she is Mine.

She is everything I preferred in a woman. Her body, though slender and honed from hours in the gym, has firm, round breasts, a slender waist, and a tight, well rounded ass. Her legs were long and well formed. I have always preferred red heads and her long hair is a beautiful auburn to set off her blue eyes and pale skin. She is no raving beauty, but trips to the hair dresser, salon, and gym have made her a woman men turned to stare at on the street.

“Unbutton your blouse.” I lay on the bed staring up at her, unmoving.

Her tongue snaked out to lick her berry hued lips. Her hands were unhesitant as she reached up to unbutton the white silk blouse she’d chosen this evening, something modest. I preferred modesty in a woman. That did not change. Today’s fashions were nothing less than sleazy and too revealing. They cheapened the female form rather than enhancing it.

Already I could see her firm nipples pressing against the material, a lovely rose hue. The scent of her sexual excitement is heady in the quiet room. The sound of her breath is soft, eager, and ragged. Hunger rose up inside of me, pressed against me. It felt as if my stomach were trying to crawl out of my backbone.

I tamped down the hunger. Victims were always so much more engaging when aroused. Whether it is from terror, or the heart pumping excitement of sexual need, the blood was always sweeter when the body had reached a peak of excitement. At over five hundred I was no fledging to rush the moment.

When her blouse had been unbuttoned nearly to her waist, she dropped her hands as if commanded. Slowly I reached up and pushed aside the material baring her left breast. The material caught her nipple, scraped it, and her slight gasp made a half smile touch my lips. Carefully I brushed my fingers over her hardened peak, and her eyes glazed even more. Her auburn head fell back and a soft moan erupted from her throat. The scent of her arousal grew stronger and I knew moisture flooded her cunt at my touch.

For several agonizing moments I toyed with the distended nipple, caressing it slightly, then with more pressure, until her breath grew sharper. Slowly, I brushed aside the other side of the blouse, took the already rigid tip in my fingers, and pinched it so gently it might have been a dream. Tara cried out. I saw her knees tremble. Her eyes were closed, body taunt and aching with need. I increased the pressure slightly and pulled the nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

Her knees started to buckle and little whimpering cries came from her. “Stand!” My voice was barely above a whisper, but that was all it took. She braced her feet and stood.

The scent of her pussy was growing stronger, a musky sweet scent I knew well. I removed my hands and shifted my body on the bed allowing the red silk sheet to slide down my well-muscled, naked chest to my waist. Her eager eyes went to my still limp groin. I was not yet hard. Though desire thickened my tongue I could not achieve an erection until I had taken blood.

“Lift your skirts. Higher.” Her hands moved down and lifted the straight, navy silk skirt, baring the hose with their black lace tops, and the black satin of her garter, then higher to the black satin and silver embroidered garter belt. She wore no underwear. She never did in my presence. Her beautiful pubic hair was a soft, brown-red, waxed close and neat. I preferred some hair, but not in excess, or no hair at all. Already the pinked clit peeked out from the folds of her, hard and aching, glistening. Her thighs were damp with her arousal.

I reached out with my hand and touched the engorged tip with the end of my forefinger. She moaned and her hips gave an involuntary twitch, trying to get closer. Her eyes were heavy lidded; her lips were glistening from her constant licking, full, lush, and partially open. Her thighs started to part for me, barely a movement.

I slid my forefinger into the delicate, sopping folds and began caressing and teasing the edges of her pussy making her moan louder, and her body tremble. She was now sopping wet and almost fiery against the cold of my finger, and I knew the effect of my death cold flesh was an arousing counterpoint to her heat.

“Spread your legs wider, my dear.” She did, again licking her lips and bracing her feet. I spread her with my fore and middle finger and just held them apart. Her clit throbbed and she moaned under the heated stare of my eyes. “What a lovely pussy you have,” I whispered.

I’d chosen her for more than her beautiful tits and obedient nature. She had one of the prettiest, tightest cunts I’ve ever seen with perfect folds and a deliciously perfect, heart shaped clit.

“Master,” she moaned, a breathless aching plea almost weeping with her need.

I slid my finger deeper, right to the edge of her cunt hole. Slowly I pressed a quarter inch of my finger into her aching heat and began rimming the inside of her. Her pussy clenched and quivered. Moisture dripped down my finger. I teased and caressed the rim of her feeling her tight cleft grow more open, eager, the muscles clenching and quivering for more.

Breathless, hot moans came out of her throat, almost whimpering. When her hips gave an involuntary jerk I slowly, so slowly it hurt, slid my finger into her almost to the lower knuckle careful not to touch any other part of her.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, head falling back at the feel of my cold finger stretching and filling her tight sheath. “Master!”

She lay on the cusp of fulfillment, driven to the very brink by my slow ministrations, memories of other pleasures, and the pleasures yet to come. I pulled my finger out. She cried out in protest and her knees went weak. Tiny little sobs came from her throat as she tried to brace her legs and not fall.

“Remove your clothing,” I commanded my voice low and hot with my own hunger.

Quickly she pulled the blouse out and tossed it to the side, then the skirt. Her body shook with need and eagerness. I gestured, and she needed no further command. Leaving the garters and hose on, she straddled my body on her hands and knees, ass facing my groin so that her lovely, glistening cunt was right before my eyes. No part of her touched me and would not until I gave her permission. Her thighs quivered.

I could see the large vein pulsing in her slender inner thigh. My stomach clenched painfully. Fangs extracted with a hot, pulsing sensation I can only describe as the same as a man’s cock growing to erection, a tight, hot pleasure. Not only could I hear her gasping little breaths, the catch in her throat, but the fast consistent beating of her heart in my temples, on the back of my tongue. My tongue grew thicker as I grabbed her slender hips and drew her back to me. Lips ran up the back of her inner thigh. Her scent was of peaches and cream soap, of flesh and aroused woman, musky cunt juices, and under that, hot, sweet blood.

To a vampire blood does not taste coppery or metallic. Our taste buds are not like humans. To me blood tasted like…hot cream and honey, a juicy venison steak, a sip of the finest wine. Imagine every one of your favorite foods and the mouth watering, breath stealing pleasure when you’re so hungry your stomach hurts and that first bite hits your tongue. Perhaps then you will have an inkling of what blood is to my kind.

My cool tongue flicked out right over the pulsing vein. I went light-headed and knew I could not hold back any longer. A hot, thick growl came from my throat. I struck, and heard her cry out at the sharp pain of razor sharp fangs sinking into her. As the blood spurted over my tongue, I took her mind. She felt no pain now. Indeed, though it has been five hundred years since a vampire took me, I remember the slow, hot pleasure of their magic pouring through my mind and body. No drug had the same effect, or could give such ecstasy.

Her essence slid over my tongue and I fastened my mouth to her inner thigh drinking deep, swallowing. My eyes closed on a wave of pleasure so intense it was like an orgasm of the mind. Moans came from her throat, and her body went incredibly relaxed, though she maintained her position. As the liquid hit my stomach, sweet, sizzling warmth poured through my innards and outward through my whole body. No human mind could ever understand the pleasure of it and no words can convey the beauty of feeling her heart beat in tandem with mine own.

My hands slid down her hips to her thighs. With my left hand I teased the now sopping folds of her labia making her moan deeper and shudder, over and over again, as if she were experiencing tiny little, consecutive orgasms. And in a way, that described the sensation perfectly. I slid my thumb into her aching, open pussy and began to press it deeper, reveling in the feel of her wet cunt walls quivering and convulsing at the sensations pouring through her body. I pulled out to caress her swollen clit, plucking and teasing her. I could taste her heart beat growing faster, thicker and sense the blood flowing through her veins as her arousal increased almost to the point of pain.

When I felt my cock twitch for the first time I used my foot to push the silk sheets down to my ankles and, at the same time, used my free hand to press against the back of her neck pushing her head to my growing erection.

Her blood filled me, warmed me from the toes upward. Warm lips caressed my thickening, twitching cock. Her tongue flicked out. She lathed my soft balls with her mouth sucking them gently, worshipfully. I spread my legs for her and felt her warm hair fall over my inner thighs. My cock grew ever longer, thicker as she sucked and lathed the balls and base until I had grown full and almost rock hard with need.

With my hand I pulled her head up. Her hot mouth wrapped around the head and began to lathe and suck the tip, tongue snaking out to tease the tiny hole making me quiver now, and my hips flex. Little gasping moans and whimpers were coming from her continuously. She took almost all the aching, throbbing length in one quick, hot motion. Her entire body was so relaxed she came nowhere near to gagging on the thick length. Her hands found my thighs, caressing. Then she cupped my balls and the then rock hard base of my cock.

As her mouth worked me, sucking and licking with hot, eager, wet tongue, I drew deeper on her essence. Two of my fingers slid into cunt, stretching her hot, wet heat and making her groan and her hips jerk.

When I felt my body near orgasm I knew I had to regain control. I drew my sucking mouth from her thigh leaving a small trail of crimson. The flat of my tongue slid over the two puncture wounds wiping up the last of the blood and the wounds began to close. By end of the hour there would be no mark to ever show I had tasted her.

My need for blood sated, other needs took over. My mouth moved up her thigh to her pussy where my first and forefinger impaled her. I began lapping at the thick sweet juices around her nether lips and the juncture of her inner thighs. Her mouth slid up me, down, and paused, licking at the underside of my throbbing cock.

Taking her hips I pushed her down so that she straddled my body, her back to me. As she slid down, my cock found her quivering hole and the motions of our bodies drew it upward impaling her on the very tip. She was so hot she burned my flesh. Her gasping moans filled the silence.

Using my vampiric strength, I held her body above mine denying her what she most desired. The head of my engorged cock just inside her, I paused. Moisture dripped down the swollen head, and I pulsed. Her body constricted around me once, twice. Her hips tried to move down, and jerk.

“Master, please!” She almost screamed the words hands clenching my thighs. “Oooh, God, please! Fuck me! I can’t...”

Sobs came from her as she begged. I could feel the band of muscles beginning to tighten and ripple in anticipation. I had no will left to deny her. Ramming her down onto my aching cock in one fast, hot thrust I watched with as I filled her burning sheath to the very edge of discomfort. I didn’t hesitate or slow myself. From experience, I knew she could accommodate my thickness. God, she was tight! So tight and wet it was almost painful pushing into her.

“Ooooh, Oooh, Goooooood!” She screamed and her body jerked. Hands tightened on my thighs and she half threw herself forward. Her cunt quivered around my throbbing length as she came, screaming, keening, and bucking on my cock.

Uncaring of her need to feel me deep inside her, I grabbed her rounded firm ass and began moving her up and down on my cock in slow, hard strokes while she came. She screamed again, head falling back, hair flowing down her slender back.

“Oh, yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, Master, please, ooooh…ohhhhhh, GOD!”

Her words were a mantra, a plea. The friction and heat were incredible, her cunt tightening around my cock like second skin, slick and burning. My head fell back as she took up the rhythm of my motions and slammed her body down on mine.

A few moments later I felt her own fingers slide down to her swollen clit. She caressed it, pinched it as she moaned then moved her hands down to my now slick balls, damp with her juices. I increased the pace at the feel of her hand caressing and squeezing my sensitive balls. Just as I felt the walls of her cunt convulse I rammed her down, filling her, stretching her almost impossibly full and deep.

An image of my quarry, the one I would soon bring over to the darkness and share the gift with, flashed before my closed eyes. I knew I could not hold off much longer. Nor did I want to. Tara was a sweet appetizer, but she was not the entrée.

I drew her up to the pulsing head watching her body as she jerked and cried out at being denied what her body craved. Groaning I enjoyed the site of my shaft impaling the edges her eager, dripping twat, the hairless pucker of her tight anus, her rounded, firm ass floating above it all like some pale moon. At last, with an animal growl, rammed her back down so hard I felt my cock tip brush her deepest core. I convulsed once, twice, and cried out back arching as I spilled my seed into her glorious heat in thick hot spurts and she came and screamed over and over, nails raking my thighs.

There were wounds on my thighs. By the time I stepped into the hot spray of the shower they were little more than tiny welts. The water strung for a moment as it hit them. Six jets caressed my now warmed flesh warming me even more. I drew that heat into myself. The water had been turned up to a temperature that might have roasted a human, and I reveled in it.

When I was clean I stepped out and drew a towel from the warming rack. As I padded toward the long counter I saw the image of myself in the mirrored wall to my right. My body was honed, lean, and powerful. The hair was a rich, deep brown with lights of deepest red, the skin now no more pale than a man who seldom found time to play in the sun. The features were neither too blunt nor lean, with high cheekbones, a well shaped mouth, and a strong jaw. The eyes were the most compelling feature in that face. Even as a human I’d been accused of being in league with the Devil because of those burning, intense eyes of pale, glowing amber with their fringe of thick black lashes.

Tara lay spent on the red silk of the sheets, eyes all but closed, legs splayed. My seed stained her thighs and darkened the silk under her.

I ignored her and turned to the massive closet set into the wall. Tonight I chose jeans and a simple amber silk shirt. The clothes were stylish and simple something I think the one I hunted would appreciate. I slid my feet into a pair of black running shoes and ran a hand through my damp hair before turning back to the woman on the bed.

Leaning over I brushed a stray strand of auburn from her cheek. Her lids flickered at my touch and she stared up at me with worshipful eyes. Her adoration for me was at its strongest right after I’d fed from her, whether I enjoyed her body or not. Just that slight touch caused her body to shudder from head to toe and she sighed out, thick and soft. I tweaked one of her nipples, because I could, and she moaned, hips working. I could have her again, if I wished. But I had used her to blunt my appetites. She had served her purpose.

The night waited for me, and my quarry.

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