In Search of Innocence

Her name was once Elzbeth Thomas but now she only knew herself as Azrael Lefay. Once she was a woman of stature, of high moral standing. Now she was nothing but a vile creature of the night, a parasite forced to live amidst the herds of those she preyed upon, a mere shadow of the woman she had once been. For a few moments carnal pleasure, she had been forever denied the beauty of the sun, the transcendence of the soul to eternal paradise.

It all began over a hundred years in the past, a time of seemingly moral and social repression. A time when women with no prospects of marriage were considered superfluous. Even though the era that was considered the Pax Britannica was soon to draw to a close, the contradictions that defined this time were still in full force.

Elzbeth Thomas, as she been named upon her birth, was the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant. Her father was insistent upon the symbols of status that he had felt all those of moneyed pedigree were entitled to. Those whom he attempted to emulate so fiercely saw him as little more than an untitled peasant with delusions of stature, a social climbing upstart who did not have the decency to inherit his wealth and position through primogeniture, this poor man actually had to work for his money.

As the youngest daughter, Elzbeth had few prospects for marriage and none that met the strict letter of her father's requirements. None were wealthy, none were nobles. The concept of marriage for love was as foreign to him as would have been any of the red skinned noble savages from the Colonies (even though they had long since attained their independence by virtue of blood and persistence, her father still referred to them as the Colonies, as did many of those wealthy nobles whose families had lost lands and wealth in the uprising, oh so long ago).

While there was little hope of marrying her off to further the family's social standing, Elzbeth was still expected to attend those social functions that her father dictated. Tea parties and balls were high upon his list, in the hopes that somewhere there yet remained a suitable husband upon which to rid himself of his final superfluous daughter. As of yet, his hopes had been repeatedly dashed.

Elzbeth squirmed in her corset, the servants always tightened it more than she felt necessary but they listened to her father and he was insistent. Her dress was expensive, the high neckline was uncomfortable to her as well. She entered the conservatory for yet another tea party, uncomfortable but forced to bear it all with a smile.

She sighed as the hushed whispers filled the room. As often as she attended these gatherings, she would never be accepted. It did not matter that her father was wealthier than any of their families. She quietly sat and endured yet another formal tea.

As always happened, she was quickly forgotten. The conversations began quietly, in hushed whispers. Sarah Martinson, the daughter of a successful banker turned to Elzbeth and smiled. "I have been invited to a private ball. I have no desire to attend alone. It is a few days from now and very exclusive. I understand that there will be gentlemen attending from America."

Elzbeth had no desire to attend yet another social function in which she would be an outcast, but something made her think twice. Should her father discover there was a ball that she did not attend, her life would be even more difficult than it currently was. She agreed to attend and then continued sipping her tea and being ignored.

The night of the ball arrived. Her father was pleased that she had agreed to attend without pressure from him. The gown he had commissioned for her was the loveliest she had ever worn, but once again, the corset was slightly too tight for her own comfort. The neckline, on the other hand, was lower than was the current style but it accentuated her full figure well.

She entered the ballroom, being announced to those gathered, and glanced around. There were few men that she recognized but all the women were those such as herself: youngest daughters from what coming to be called the "upper middle class". All the women were those with little or no prospect of marriage and they appeared to be happily escorted by men of obvious wealth and stature.

But something about the men struck a nervous chord in Elzbeth. They were all uniformly pale with washed out eyes that would seem more at home in a tiger than a man. As one passed near her, Elzbeth felt a chill radiate from him, a chill that ran straight to the core of her very being.

Elzbeth turned to leave but came face to face with a strange man. Unlike all the others, he had long hair and eyes that were a deep brown, full of rich color. Although the clothing he wore was the height of current fashion, on him they seemed older, almost out of fashion. "Departing so soon, Miss Thomas? You only just arrived."

His voice was deep, seemingly resonating within her mind as much as her ears. She tried to stammer out some excuse but found none forthcoming. She found herself becoming lost in his eyes as he spoke, the words unremembered.

An hour passed and she had spent the entire time with him, never once having asked his name. They danced, they chatted, and they existed in the same space without seeming to belong. She found herself being led away from the main ballroom, through the darkened corridors of the estate. As they passed by several rooms, the sounds that issued forth could barely be recognized as human. She was barely aware that these were sounds of carnal passion, shocked that the women who attended would be so irresponsible. Should any outside these walls discover their activities, these women would be branded as "fallen" and could hope for little more than to be cast out of their homes to sell their bodies on the streets.

All these thoughts ran through her mind as Elzbeth was led to a large bedchamber. Her shock at allowing herself to be led here was overwhelmed by the site of several couples already engaged in a carnal embrace. Everywhere she looked there were naked bodies, women mounted by men in positions she would have once thought degrading but could only now helplessly find stimulating.

Elzbeth tried to force herself to leave, to protest against this debauchery. But she could not. She found herself warming, tingling in places that she had never thought would happen. The man led her to the four poster bed, empty despite the large orgy occurring around them. He guided her until she came to rest, sitting upon the edge.

Within moments, without knowing how and almost as if by magic, Elzbeth sat upon the bed, naked save for her corset and the chemise worn beneath. Her womanhood, that gentle portal to her maidenhead, was hot and flowing with juices. Her eyes had become glazed as she lost herself within the sheer presence of this man whose name she still had yet to discover. She watched as he slowly unbuttoned his fly and released his manhood from its tight confines.

A hunger now came over her. A hunger so foreign to her very nature. She reached out and, without understanding why, pulled his hardness to her, slowly licking it and taking it within her mouth, never truly conscious of her actions. He wrapped his hands in her hair and smiled down upon her as she lavished his member with her oral ministrations.

Soon, he unleashed his seed into her mouth. She gagged at first, but quickly began to swallow every drop, an action she never would have conceived of before now and one she would never know why she did. She pulled her mouth away, licking her lips to ensure she caught every last drop.

He pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs as she fell. He slid his face between her legs, his tongue touching her in her most private of places. She gasped in unexpected and never before experienced pleasure as his teeth and tongue explored her. Soon, all too soon, she exploded in a feeling she could only describe as being allowed to see the gates of heaven.

He withdrew his mouth from her, but replaced his tongue with his fingers. She moaned loudly, uncaring who heard the wanton desire in her voice. Her moans turned into a gasp as something sharp stabbed into the soft skin of her inner thigh. The pain quickly became pleasurable as his fingers worked within her. Lifting her head a mere few inches, she could see him. He had bitten her thigh and seemed to be sucking.

Her fear dissipated and she exploded again, screaming in a voice hardly recognizable as her own. He stood, a thin trail of blood trailing from his lips. He positioned himself between her legs then slid himself in to the hilt, piercing her maidenhead. She gasped in a mixture of pain and pleasure as he began to thrust himself in and out of her.

He leaned in and kissed her deeply, his tongue mingling with hers in a way that she knew only French harlots did. She tasted her own feminine essence on his lips. That and her own blood. Instead of revulsion and disgust, she became even more excited. She moaned into his mouth as his motions within her became more forceful.

He broke the kiss and moved his mouth to her neck, licking her where the shoulder and neck met. As her orgasm built to a climax once more, his teeth plunged into her tender flesh and he drank deeply. The pain from his bite sent her to realms of pleasure that she had never known possible, would have never thought to wonder was possible. She exploded, screaming loudly, against him again and again until she finally felt him explode within her.

She collapsed in exhaustion as her orgasms finally subsided. He withdrew from her slowly, spent, and he smiled down at her. "We will meet each other again, little one." She barely heard his words as she faded into unconsciousness.

To Be Continued...