Blood Sacrifice, Sacrifice Tales

Blood Sacrifice

Part Three of The Sacrifice Tales

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

© Copyright 2023 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All characters in this story are above the age of 18.

Blood Sacrifice

— Lazarus by the Sea , Maine—

June 1897

In life, Yin and Yang constantly battle. When light danced about, evil hid in the shadows it cast. Men of faith often cowered in fear once they knew how powerful the dark forces were. In the year of our Lord, 1897, in the small Maine town of Lazarus by the Sea, despair lingered, driven by the young people's deaths.

Although the deaths of the young men had stopped, fear held its icy fingers around the throats of some. The influx of new citizens echoed past events when the vampire, Lazarus, held sway. Something as natural as a summer thunderstorm might shatter a peaceful night.

Solemn tones echoed from the old tower clock announcement of midnight. Deep bangs resounded discordantly through the village as the hammer struck the bell with 12 ominous clangs. A heavy and thick fog covered the town in a shroud of deathlike stillness. Peculiarly, a type of dread pervaded all nature. Mostly, no one was awake to experience the terror.

Life seemed to pause like the menacing calm preceding some terrific outbreak of the elements. Clouds swept over the town. They blotted out any light from above. All the while, the mist obscured the streetlamps, features of the streets, buildings, alleyways, and grassy knolls around the community.

A faint peal of thunder rolled through the bay. The rumbling reverberated like distant cannon fire, perhaps miles away from the ocean. A mighty blast of wind shuttered through the streets and ceased, and all was as still and calm as before. Sleepers woke and pondered what they heard, confused if they dreamed of a calamity or if there was indeed a storm. They shivered for a startling moment and, after a moment or two, slumbered once more.

So long as their little world was safe, no one cared what happened outside. Not when Morpheus wrapped them in his arms. Sleep on, sweet citizens, for nothing was wrong here.

A tall, slender figure stood at the bay window, peeking into the bedchamber of a young man. The large bay window stretched from ceiling to floor and faced south, away from the bay. The window was latticed with strangely painted glass and richly stained sections, which sent a strange yet beautiful light into the room. That was if the sun or moon shone into the room.

The owner paid well under the value of the home. No one bothered to tell him that generations had died in the house. Whole families fell victim to the curse. But they might say this of every structure in the village. For over two centuries, the town lived in dread of Lazarus, dying for his existence, pleasure, or on an evil whim of their callous master.

The man was shorter, less manly than Adam. Still, he was well-formed, handsome, a little effeminate, and lay on his bed. The boy tossed the covers away during sleep, exposing his naked body to Adam's prying eyes. He could understand why Lacey desired him. All too well, Adam grasped her interest. For he also felt a particular yearning toward the girlish young man.

Something about this girlish young fellow pulled at him like nothing before. There was a certain charm in his lithe body. Adam discovered, for him, the sex of a person mattered little. Or was he only attracted to this kid?

'Kid, what an odd epithet to pin on a young adult,' Adam pondered the word as he gazed at the waif. He left contemplation of the matter and replaced it with a longing to hold, kiss, and feel himself inside the young man. Aaron longed to feel this son of a fisherman's mouth around his cock. And above all, he sought to drink his blood.

To drink, feed, and sup from life to gain more life, more strength. More than this, to cross over, to become what his mistress was. These things were all that mattered.

The son of one of the new fishermen, imported from Boston, Lacey had met him at a soiree to welcome the newcomers to the community. If Lacey wanted the boy, it was his job to get him. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the window. At the moment of lightning, a clap of colossal thunder shook the buildings and windows.

The strike was inside the town, with no breath between lightning and thunder. The flash hit the ground behind Adam.

The boy stirred and gazed at the window. A chill of terror crept down his spine. He clutched the sheets of his bed, letting a gasp escape. For outlined in the oddly colored pains of painted and stained glass, he saw the figure of a tall, thin man. The light vanished in less than two beats of his heart, as did the shape.

Sitting upright in his bed, his heart drummed wildly in his chest. The boy's blood ran cold.

With another flash of lightning, the colorful patterns showed unbroken. Returning his head to his pillow, he put the ghostly specter from his mind. The boy calmed himself, realizing it was a trick of light, and soon returned to his dream world.

Adam stood unmoving, gazing through the glass, scrutinizing the sleeping youth.

"Return to me." Her voice called to him.

Adam didn't step back to the bay window. Instead, the young man followed the instructions and returned to Lazarus Manner. With the village filled with people once more. Potential victims were so plentiful that Lacey might visit and feed on anyone in the town without raising suspicions. She left them alive with only a vague memory of an erotic dream.

Adam wondered how the boy's blood tasted. Surely not as succulent as Lacey's. Adam longed for her to bring him across to the other side of life. The existence of neither living nor dying, undead, unaging, immortal with her forever.

The constant throb in his pants disturbed him. He'd never felt a drawing to a man before. Accompanying his aching prick, his mind filled with only two thoughts: fucking the young man and sipping his blood. While Adam had only drunk Lacey's blood, he desired to partake of others. She promised him, in time, he would.

All the way back, Adam couldn't shake the vision of the boy's tight, girlish body, and beautiful face from his mind.

As fate would dictate, the terrific storm of the evening cleared the air. Such was the morning; the new day rendered a delicious liveliness in the village. The weather had been gloomy. There was weightiness in the atmosphere for days, entirely removed from the beautiful explosion of nature the previous night.

As if the air itself was heavy with some danger. With the morning, the atmosphere seemed lighter, like the storm had driven the dread away.

The morning sun rose with a unique radiance, and birds sang in the trees and brush. Their songs were pleasant, spirit-stirring, health-giving, a morning seldom seen. And the effect on the public spirit was positive.

The boy woke, not remembering his fear of the night before.

June's sunlight was warm and inspired cheer in the village of Lazarus by the Sea. On that sunny afternoon, said light streamed in through the open window of Mayor Jonathan Hawkins's office. It was bright enough. There was no need for electric lights. Hawkins put a match to his pipe, puffed furiously for a few moments, shook the match out, and tossed, rather carelessly, to the floor. Staring at his friend across his desk, he collected his thoughts.

"As I understand it, old Jamison Williams and his son discovered that Lacey Anderson married Lazarus and went to rescue her and her father from the bastard."

"Yes, both the old men died in the battle, but the boy successfully destroyed the wily old vampire," Timothy Langston said. "Of course, the spell over Lacey broke after Lazarus's true death. The two of them cremated all the bodies."

"So, miss..."

"Mrs. Lazarus, John."

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Lazarus created the influx of citizens."

"Yes, she's paying their way here. Helping to set them up with jobs or in shops. Things are looking up for us. You better get around and glad handle these new folks, so you aren't voted out of office next election."

"I will. For the first time in my life, I think the town is on the right road. Quite a storm last night," the Mayor said, changing subjects. "Lighting and thunder, but no rain."

"For a moment, I thought old Lazarus had returned."

The two continued to talk until the sunset robbed them of light.

Later, a bit after midnight, once the last bell clang rang, all was as still as the grave. Not a sound interrupted the magic repose of the sleepy village. What was that soft, curious uproar, a pitter-patter, like a thousand fairy wings fluttered about?

Not fairy wings, but heartbeats of over 2000 souls, and Lacey heard each of them. But that night, the fluttering of the young man's rhythm drew Lacey. The soft and tender child of a rough and hardy fisherman.

To Roger Ryan, his son, Devon, was a disappointment.

Too much of his mother's stuff made the essence of the son. Devon possessed her delicate features. Soft hands. Tender turnings. Weak, effeminate, pretty, and delicate should be words used to describe his son.

God, fate, or destiny maltreated Roger in the grand scheme of his life.

The boy's mother lived in fear for her son. She dreaded his inappropriate desires, which set the young fellow apart from his peers and his father. Those yearnings, unconventional and unnatural, might endanger him. If others discovered those turnings, things could go badly for her son.

How could one so unable to hide his unnatural nature survive in a world that hated his kind?

The couple skimmed through the edge of darkness, unseen, where shadow met light. The man and woman meander through the night to the brightly colored window of the young Ryan boy.

Lacey and Adam peered through the festively colored glasswork. They study the room, particularly the sleeping figure on the bed. The bed occupied by a creature formed in loveliness lies half-sleeping on the bed. A boy of eighteen years, beautiful as the summer's evening. Curled on his bed, naked, covers kicked from his body, suckling his thumb.

Visions planted in his dreams disturbed his restless sleep. The various coverings on his bed were in much disarray. One arm hung nearly off the side, and the other was over his head. His neck and chest, small as it was, formed a study of a feminine form sculpted with fantastic care by loving hands.

Devon's body lay exposed to the eyes of the twosome.

The boy's heartbeat drummed in Lacey's mind, and the perfume of his youthful blood coaxed her to plant a dream inside him.

He moaned slightly, fantasizing about masculine, powerful hands touching him with wild abandon. Once or twice, his lips moved as if praying thanks to a merciful goddess for the gift of his lover.

His sexual turmoil wakes the young man's senses, although his perturbation didn't entirely break his repose. Flesh turns to goosebumps, his hand touching and squeezing himself. Thrusting his hips, the boy seems to move away and fall back into something, someone, as his dream controls his movements.

Adam noticed how sweetly his long, silken eyelashes lay upon his lower lids.

Devon moved, arching his back, one shoulder entirely visible in the pale moonlight. His flesh was whiter, fairer than the spotless sheets of the bed on which he slept. The smooth skin of the girlish creature presented to the couple as the charms of a girl, not a boy. Warped up with a seemingly matured beauty and gentleness of more advanced experiences.

Lacey puts her fingers to the glass and drums her nails over the panes like a tapping tune piano. The boy wakes, turns, and spies the figures at the window. Inside his mind, he hears her voice demanding entry.

The young man wanted to holler and tried to scream. But a choking sensation overcame him and silenced the words before they formed. It was dreadful. He tried to move, but each limb felt weighed down by tons of weight.

"Help... help... help... help," he said in a hoarse and faint whisper.

"Calm yourself," sounded in his mind, and the fear vanished.

"Won't you join me?" the boy said, inviting the couple into his room.

The window, somehow unlatched, swung into the room, and the duo entered.

The man was from his dream, and Devon reasoned it was still a dream. He drew breaths in short, dense, rapid gasps. The boy's chest heaved, and his limbs trembled, not in fear but yearning. Devon cannot withdraw his eyes from the carved marble-looking face. He held him with his gleaming eyes in a trance.

Devon sucked on his thumb coquettishly as the tall, handsome man approached him. Unbuttoning his shirt, Adam sauntered toward the kittenish 18-year-old. With confidence, given to him by Lacey, he moved to his first prey.

Lacey moved in front of him and came to the young man.

Lilting his head to the side, he offered his throat. Rolling his eyes back in his head as he neared him, waiting for the sting of her love. Devon understood to be with the man, he must submit to the woman.

Lacey bent to him, and with a quick, hard thrust, she sank her fangs deep. Pulling free, tiny drops of bright, vermilion blood fell to the sheets. Lacey licked her fangs clean. From her first kiss, Devon was entirely under her thumb.

The boy touched his neck, touched the marks, pulled his hand away, and gazed at the blood on his fingers. Standing, rising on tippy-toes, he held his hand to the man.

Adam cleaned the blood with his tongue. Salty, metallic, and sweet, he savored his first taste of non-vampire roue. Bending to the boy's neck, Adam kissed him, lapping the blood like a kitten drinking milk. He pressed the boy to the bed, feeding on him. Drinking freely, deep from the boy's oozing veins.

The boy writhed underneath the man. Passions, buried, burning, erupted. Pleasures and forbidden taboos consumed him. A man didn't judge him, frighten him, or hurt him. He knew what Devon wanted and didn't hate him for it.

Though their ages were a mere year apart, Adam's exposure to Lacey made him far advanced in giving pleasure. The kisses on his tender neck sent waves of pleasure through the younger man. The rough tongue, running over the two pricks of flesh, pushed the boy to rapture.

Hands, hard, callused hands, caressed him softly and lovingly, giving him pleasure. Emotions flooded him, filled him, overflowed from their hiding place, so deeply buried inside him. His penis and balls surged, and he spat his seed over their bellies.

Standing, clutching the younger man's hair, he pulled him to his feet. Taking the boy's shoulders, he pushed him to his knees and, unbuttoning his pants, fished out his cock.

Once Devon saw the man's big, angry, and needy prick, his expression turned most pleasant. He held a hint of dreaminess in his young gaze, while a soft glimmer from his lucid eyes betrayed the sinful nature of his interest. Rising slightly, he licked some cum off the man's belly. Then descending, and Devon gaped at the gigantic cock.

Reaching down, Adam took a handful of the shaggy blonde locks and pushed the boy's plump, lovely lips to the cockhead.

Lifting his soft, green eyes up to the man and the woman, Devon opened his mouth, waiting for the man to do what he pleased. It was Devon's first time. He was, at best, unsure how this all worked.

Pressing her mind into the boy's, Lacey instructed him.

Staring up at the two of them, he ran his tongue over his plump, firm lips as he stroked the plumping prick. Devon's eyes wandered up the lean muscles of Adam's chest to his face. Adam bit his lower lip and examined Devon through hooded eyes. Devon reached inside Adam's trouser leg with one hand, cupped the other's balls in his palm, moved his other hand up to stroke the shaft, and opened his mouth.

A heady scent of Adam's leaking pre-cum, and his manly aroma filled Devon with yearning. He leaned forward and kissed Adam's cockhead.

After kissing the tip, his mouth went around Adam's cockhead. Moving to the flare of the helmet, he sucked, and all the air rushed from Adam's lungs. The heat of his tongue and warm space covering the man's member spread down the shaft, and Adam came so near to losing his load.

As Devon sucked on the helmet, a shudder ran down Adam's shaft, hardening it more if such a thing was possible. Devon desired to tease, but Adam's heat and Lacey's encouragement in his mind drove him wild with lust. Sucking on the helmet, Devon took it in deep, feeling the warmth of Adam's member spread through him.

Devon swirled his tongue around Adam's throbbing member in slow, controlled circles. With each pass, he felt Adam trembling and gasping softly. With Lacey's direction, Devon took more and more of Adam's penis inside his mouth. Devon delighted in the sensation of giving pleasure. His hands tenderly massaged the firm muscles of Adam's buttocks. He felt a surge of arousal course through his body.

His lips inched down the pole. Sloppy slobber covered the massive prick, and when his mouth covered the fat base, the cockhead was deep in his throat. The enormous thing, all inside his velvet, sodden gullet.

As Lacey guided Devon along, Devon complied, bringing Adam to the edge of climax and holding him there while the anticipation built inside them both. Devon quickened his pace. In a few minutes, his lovely head bobbed on the cock at a wild, lively velocity.

Without warning, Adam's cum spilled in thick streams into Devon's greedy mouth and throat. One intense gush, another, and more. Adam's balls ascended. The cum rushed forth, filling Devon as he sucked it down.

Breaking away from Adam, Devon crumpled to the floor.

Lacey scooped him up with a gentle touch. The scent of his hair filled her nostrils with a sensual fragrance, and she laid sweet, obliging Devon on his bed and kissed his lips. Adam stripped off his pants and joined them. Getting behind the boy, he put his hand to Devon's lips.

"Give him as much of his seed and your spit as possible," Lacey ordered.

Devon filled Adam's hand.

Adam rubbed the mixture over his cock. Layered over the boy's asshole and shoved his thumb inside, pushing the blend to Devon. Pressing his cockhead against the hole, Adam Devon caressed him and whispered.

"This will pleasure and hurt you."

"You'll take pleasure from pain as well," Lacey said, moving her mouth to two pinholes of flesh. As she thrusts her fangs back into Devon, Adam stabbed his cock deep inside his ass.

Devon's body ached exquisitely. He shoved himself back to take Adam's lunges. He didn't know how many hours passed, but concupiscent, satisfying sensations consumed him. Adam fucked him hard, deep, relentlessly. And Lacey fed, taking his essence with abandon. For hours, Lacey fed, Adam fucked Devon, and the young man gave both what he could.

Lacey moved away and gazed at the pair copulating in front of her. She drove the desires deeper into them. The rutting grew more frenzied.

The sensations filled Devon, intoxicating him as much as any drug could. Touching his neck again, Devon felt a slow, thick seep from the wounds. The blood oozed over his finger, viscid and sticky. He brought his fingers to his lips and tasted the rich, salty, sweetish, and mysterious mixture, stimulating metallic flavor.