Extorted Blood Whore

"But I get the impression you're very dangerous."

"Only to you. Not to a nation. At my busiest I could never kill so many people a day as a nation can call to arms."

"Is that so?" I said. "You couldn't squeeze them all to death with your vice-grip butthole?" I kissed the side of her neck, added tongue, rested my teeth against her skin.

She laughed. "No. I see you have discovered reverse play. Will we be pretending that you are the devilish vampire come to drain my mortal blood?"

"Not tonight," I said, murmuring it against her clavicle. I had convinced myself I felt a cock-clenching rhythm building up around my finger in her snatch. "So you came to America for the revolution. Did you know George Washington?"

"I despise to drop names."

"Okay, but did you know Washington or not?"

She surprised me by touching me. She didn't go for my cock, perhaps because I'd told her not to before, but she slid her hand from my stomach to my chest to my shoulder and pulled me a little closer. "I met him, not knew him. The highest leaders are seldom comfortable with vampires. They fear assassins, but they don't realize it does no good to fear."

"You ever assassinate anybody?"

"Oh yes."

"Who's the most famous person you ever assassinated?" The strange thing was that this was starting to feel like ordinary flirting on an ordinary date, despite the topics of conversation.

"Famous now, or famous in their own time?"

"Someone I would have heard of."

"I will have to think about it." Her hand slipped from my shoulder to tickle my armpit. She had long, delicate fingers, great for showing off those fetish gloves she wore. "My job now of course is much more boring."

"What do you do now?" Her segue was so nimble that I went right along with it. Nothing excites curiousity like a protestation of boringness. I could always ask about her kills another time.

"Watching, listening, arresting, abducting. Operation Windowpane. Domestic espionage. Looking for foreign spies."

I slipped a hand between her breasts, trying to determine how good they'd be for a tit fuck. Their inner slopes nuzzled my hand wonderfully. "Some people would call that exciting."

"If they hadn't ever done it. Decades and decades of this, and it only gets more constrained. Even on a target, they forbid a blood kill. No more payment in expendable convicts. Everything is meetings and telephone calls. Did you notice how I was dressed when we met? That is the culture now. I feel like a DMV clerk. Since the Revolution, the government has crept back bit by bit to being Englishly self-loathing in every respect."

"So you like going back to the old vampire fashions?"

She turned her head and kissed me sweetly on the cheek. The silken inner muscles of her cunt rippled around my finger. "I have to thank you for that. It was such a relief to put those clothes back on. Maybe in the future I will show up for work that way."

"So you hide that great body just to conform at work? Tragic."

She sighed dramatically, with a definite sense of self-parody. "Yes, tragic. They have turned me a bit English along with them. I have faith that things will change one day, though. It can't stay this way forever. You Americans are crippled by your descent from the English, but you have an un-English hunger to live. You yourself, in your determination to make me your mistress, are very French to me."

What a powerful compliment, coming from somebody with an Old World perspective like hers. I grinned and squeezed my hand against her cunt lips. "Thank you."

"Do you happen to be married?" she asked with a sparkle in her eye.

"I'm not married."

"What a pity. A jealous wife would entertain me to no end."

"I do have an ex-wife."

She grinned evilly, and I could see that even retracted, her fangs were a bit more needle-like than ordinary human canine teeth. "You ought to use me to torment her, then."

"The divorce wasn't that bad," I demurred.

"Every divorce is a misery," she said, "though the poor sufferers pretend otherwise. And of course it is an English custom, inflicted on the world at large. In a healthy bad marriage, the spouses simply have affairs at each other."

I returned a hand to her piercings. "You got anything pierced besides these?"

"Not right now."

"Not right now? So your piercings heal away?"

"If neglected, yes. I had to re-pierce my nipples last night."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Her cunt spasmed on my finger before she answered. "Yes. I always do."

I decided it was time to fuck her, before she started brooding about English culture again. "All right, bitch," I said, "you ready to get your twat fucked?"

She planted a hand on the other side of me and turned her body so that instead of sitting next to me she was straddling me, with a knee on either side of my hips. Her elegant fingers grazed my cock, aiming it—

"Not here. Let's dry off and go to bed."

She blinked. "Oh."

"Don't worry. We'll have plenty of chances to fuck in the hot tub. But I want to feel your fake body heat."

"Oh, I see. And the water is just as warm."

"Right. I could hardly tell in here. Maybe another time we can fuck as soon as we get into the hot tub, and then your body will be distinctly cold. If this really winds up developing my vampire fetish, I could get to like that."

She met my eyes seriously. God, her irises were pale, as if the color had all washed out. "You could."

We got out of the tub and I dried us both with a large, fluffy towel.

When I got to her hair she said "Don't worry about that. I'm cooling down every second."

"You're right," I said, and I led her indoors to my bed. She threw herself onto it, face up, and closed her eyes for a moment. With her pierced nipples and mostly-wet hair, in repose she looked like a porn-star Ophelia.

But it was only for a moment. Then her eyes snapped open and she said, "Shall I feed as you finish?"

I thought about how it had felt last time. "Yes," I said, "I think that would be best. Do the other side of my neck. I've still got band-aids where you bit me first. In the long run we'll do a rotation — neck, thighs, wrists, maybe other places. Not my dick, because I need that. But I don't want fang sores from always being bitten in the same place."

"Yes, very sensible," she said. I took a bottle of lube from the nightstand and pumped a large amount onto her lips. "I don't think we need that much."

"I'm just making sure," I said, and pushed dollops of it inside her with my fingers. Then I took firm hold of her ankles, one hand still slippery on her ankle from the lube, and pulled them up to beside her shoulders, the paleness of her skin standing out against her darker-when-wet hair. I wondered what she saw in me looming over her. Was she excited, like me, or just indulgent and waiting her turn?

Then I set the head of my cock against her lasciviously fat-lipped pussy, paper-white and gleaming with lube, and pushed my way up her tunnel.

It was like fucking the cunt of a living bitch. I could imagine she was one of my post-divorce drunken hookups. Her breasts heaved up and down on her chest with the force of my pumps, their piercings glinting in the light. That salacious, puffy pussy looked like it was sucking me off. Her clit stood out like a pink green pea and I kneaded it roughly with my thumb.

I had jacked off earlier in the day, looking at vampire bite footage on Liveleak, and I was thankful. I would never have lasted to this point otherwise. Even her hand when we first got into the hot tub might have done it for me.

"Hurry and finish," she said, her head twisting this way and that. "I feel your heart beating in our muscles of love." She sounded calm, but despite her philosophy of language-learning I thought I heard traces of a French accent creeping into her voice.

"Are you feeling it?" I growled.

She gripped my upper arms and hurled me around onto the bed, reversing our positions in an instant. Now her knees were planted on either side of my hips, and she ground herself on my cock in a series of powerful swirling motions — like her blowjob and handjob styles, a perfect mechanical repetition of a complex and highly stimulating pattern. "I am feeling... stage one."

Pinning, I remembered. Next she would thirst. Her boobs were still hypnotic. "Your tits are incredible."

"I know," she said.

I reared up my head, took her left nipple barbell in my teeth, and yanked. I was rewarded with the sound of a sharp little exhalation through her nose, notable from someone with no need to breathe. Inside her hot-tub-steamy cunt, her muscles gripped and twisted in a new cycle. Was it the same sort of pattern she got me off with in other ways, an irresistible milking sequence repeating perfectly and endlessly? Was it involuntary? Was I getting her off?

Either way, I gave it up myself. The whole evening had brought me to the edge and now it tore out of me like a gun shooting firecrackers. The moment it did, she pushed my head down to the pillow, her palm on my forehead where she'd sealed our pact with her spit (and sometimes, in the days since, I had imagined I still felt her sticky spit slowly evaporating on my brow). She went in for the bite, punching her needles into my neck on the other side, sending a bolt of pink fuzz up into my brain and a wave of animal seizures down the rest of my body.

I was profoundly aware not just of my spilling prick, but my beating heart. it was as if both my cock and my heart — my fuck-meat and my blood-meat — were ejaculating together. My orgasm was having its own orgasm on top of itself. I couldn't perceive any of it as pain. The only nagging thought that was anything but pleasure asked what she was feeling in that moment. Orgasm? Stage two: thirst?

Her tits were warm on my chest until she yanked herself off me, her cold hair tickling in their place. My sticky cock slapped my stomach as she pulled off it to lie beside me. God, she had a lot of hair. Some of it still lay on me.

I felt a sting and a trickle on my neck. "Hey," I said, "I'm still bleeding."

She giggled. "Oh, sorry." She leaned over me and tenderly licked the punctures on my neck. I imagined I could feel the coagulation, but I probably couldn't. It did stop bleeding, though.

"Thanks."

"With you the third stage is different," she said. "It is more tranquil. Like I am the victim too. Is this the effect of your genetic disorder blood?"

"I don't know," I said. "I've never tasted it while being a vampire."

"Whatever the reason, this is nice," she said, "but I should warn you."

"Warn me about what?" Was she going to bite the withdrawal bullet and kill me anyway?

"I cannot be intimate without becoming intimate," she said, sounding extremely French. "What the cunt feels, the heart feels also, and if I drink your heart's blood too, it will reach my own heart."

"You came, didn't you?"

She sighed. "Yes, I came, I had an orgasm. I thought it would come back to me, but I did not guess it would return so fast. Pff. It helps that you have a nice fit body."

I squeezed her hand in mine. "I came too."

"I never would have suspected," she said, deadpan.

"It helps that you have perfect tits."

"I know."

"Is your ass in a big wet spot, or just mine?"

"I told you that much lube was not necessary."

"It all turned out well in the end." I still felt flushed and out of breath, but I sat up.

She sat up too, parting her absurdly succulent cunt lips with two fingers and looking in puzzlement at her own pussy.

"Something wrong down there?" I asked.

"I'm only... surprised it worked like that," she said, but her investigation seemed concluded. She stood up, resettling her hair with her hands.

I stood as well, feeling shaky and faint, but definitely calm and confident. "I want to show you something," I said.

"Go ahead," she said, and I led her to the basement. The little windows at the top of the wall were all boarded up, and there was a heavy canvas next to a queen bed.

"I sunproofed this room," I said. "In case of emergency, you've got that canvas to block the sun too. Stay here whenever you like, furnish it however you like."

"Thank you," she said. "That is very thoughtful. I cannot stay right now... but next time." She squeezed my arm, then gasped a little. "Oh! I bruised you earlier. I'm very sorry."

I did feel a little tender around the biceps. I could see a faint bruise forming. "That's okay. That pinning stage is rough, isn't it?"

"Stage one struck me very hard tonight. I am glad no bones are broken. I didn't mean to hurt you, but a vampire is made to hold the victim when he is trying to run away."

"Don't worry. I understand." I took the opportunity to put my hand on her shoulder again. Her shoulders might be her best feature, except for her hair, her back, her tits, her legs, and her face.

"I can't stay right now," she said, "but I will be back. I'll bring handcuffs so we can play in a way that is more safe for you."

"Intriguing," I said. My dick twinged a bit, not at all ready to get hard again but still registering its own interest.

She got back into her traditional vampire clothes, looking every inch amazing. I regretted making her take them off immediately when she arrived, but it had been a necessary power move.

"When will you be back?" I asked.

"Four or five days," she said. She poked my stomach with her finger. "You eat up. Make more of your addictive blood for me."

I nodded.

She clacked out the door in those tall high heels, wobbling not a bit.

I turned off the porch light, switched off the hot tub, drank an entire quart of orange juice to wash down several vitamin pills, brushed my teeth, threw a towel over the wet spot, another towel over the other wet spot, and went to sleep smelling the faint natural scent of her hair on the pillowcase.

I had a strange dream about being in an old French prison, speaking to a French prisoner, comparing two sketches of the same building with important differences and cursing a lot in French. The subconscious is a funny thing.

What would I do with myself for four or five days?

Probably jack off a lot.