Midnight at the Villa Diodati

I glanced again at Sylvester and Mary and, my head spinning a little, I let Byron lead me from the saloon and up the stairs but it was outside Byron's bedchamber door that I balked.

"No," I whispered, tearing myself free. "I cannot," and I had almost run to my room and Byron, he had not chased me, but he had been watching me as I closed my bedchamber door behind me and sank onto our bed. Sylvester's bed and my bed. Our bed, and I was shuddering until at last I stood and undressed myself, slipping into my silk bedclothes and closing my eyes but sleep would not come, however much I desired.

"Noooooo," a soft wail, almost inaudible, reached my ears in the darkness. "Nooooooo."

I was on my feet, reaching for my swords without thought, flinging open my bedchamber door and a shrill but wordless cry floated up the stairs and something was wrong, for I had heard many such cries in this house but all were either "yes" or wordless cries of excitement and pleasure and this was not.

"What is it?" Byron's voice came from behind me and he was naked and my heart beat the faster.

"Downstairs," I whispered, and I lead, swords in either hand for in the darkness, who knows what comes searching for prey and those cries had been cries of terror and fear.

"What's this?" Byron asked, far too loudly, and I looked.

Polidori lay sprawled in one of the armchairs on the patio overlooking the lake, unconscious, his shirt unbuttoned, a look of terrified rapture on his face, blood trickling from two punctures at his neck. My silver swastika flared a little at my neck and I halted in my steps, heart jolting and almost, I screamed.

"Jiangshi!" I hissed, and I was no longer puzzled, I was terrified, my sword in my hand, my heart pounding.

"What?" Byron said from behind me as distant screams came from the dining room.

"Vampyre," I translated. "Blood suckers."

"Be damned," Byron said

"Please... noooooo." ANother scream, louder, nearer.

"The dining room," Byron whispered, and he whispered now, his voice suddenly afraid and he was not the only one. "Give me one of your swords."

I did, the short sword and he took it and followed.

Auden, handsome, golden-haired Auden was sprawled naked across the dining table, on his back, his throat ripped out, horror written large across that Adonis-like face and beside him, bent face down over that same table, was poor Cecilia, and she was screaming as Ruthven mounted her from behind, thrusting hard as his fangs drew blood from her neck and her screams were of unbounded ecstasy now.

Over her, Ruthven was bent forward, naked, his bloody fangs extended as he lifted his head and I felt his hunger, I felt his need to feed and my body responded to that desire as my free hand clutched frantically at my holy swastika, blessed by the Abbot of the Shaolin Temple himself. My silver swastika flared bright as Ruthven turned his face to me and that way he lifted himself up from Cecilia, that look of soulless hunger in his eyes, there was little that was human about him.

"Ruthven!" Byron exclaimed from behind me. "What the devil are you at, man?"

"It's not a man," I said. "It's jiangshi, it's a vampyre. Don't let it look you in the eyes," and I held my flaring silver swastika up high before my own eyes and that monstrous being was forced to avert his mesmerizing gaze.

"By Jove," Byron exclaimed as Ruthven drew back and he would have been on me except Cecilia cried out as he left her and her arms and legs entangled him and her face expressed that desperate need she felt for him. That desperate need that the victim of a vampyre feels, once bitten, and there was madness in her eyes as she offered him her throat whilst her hand sought his erect member and I shuddered, for it could have been I in Ruthven's clutches rather than poor Cecilia.

"Come to meeeeeee," Ruthven hissed, turning, and as he turned me lifted poor Cecilia, her arms vined around his neck, her long slender legs embraced his waist and she moaned as he entered her. "Come to meeeeee, give me your blood."

Those hissing words tugged at my heart, tugged at my sex, twisted my insides so that my knees weakened, my hand sank a little and Byron staggered past me, dropping my sword and I, I stood helpless, unmoving.

"Lie down, George," Ruthven hissed, and Byron obeyed, kneeling, lying on his back on the floor, shuddering, his eyes wild.

"Ride him, now," Ruthven hissed and Cecilia obeyed, standing as Ruthven withdrew from her, turning, kneeling over Byron and she had been a virgin, there was blood on her inner thighs and she straddled Byron, took him in her hand, eased herself down on him so that he entered her and he filled her and she rode him slowly as she had been commanded.

"Your blood is mine after I have drained this one dry," Ruthven's voice rasped and it crossed my mind that it must be difficult to talk with those long fangs extended and his leer sent shivers down my spine. "I have you now, every one of you and I will take you all and then the others, one by one."

He smiled, and that smile was evil and malevolence personified and my mind screamed in terror and Ruthven's smile grew larger as he felt my fear and my horror.

Byron lay there as Cecilia rode him, her hips moving, her face rapt until Ruthven knelt behind her and began to enter her back passage as Byron possessed her sex and now she cried out but she was in Ruthven's power and the look on her face as he possessed her was one of willing surrender.

"Her," Ruthven hissed malevolently. "First her and then I will feed on you, George." He laughed.

A vampyres' laugh is a thing of terror and Byron felt that terror even as he possessed golden-haired Cecilia in tandem with Ruthven, both of them moving within her and as Ruthven sank his fangs into the pulsing blue vein at Cecilia's neck, her expression changed to one of rapture and eyes wide, she shuddered with the pleasure of the vampyre's draining of her blood.

Beneath her, Byron shuddered as Ruthven drank his fill and the life faded from Cecilia as he drained her. Drained her until she shuddered and tied and now it was Ruthven that shuddered as he reached his culmination and in that moment, he lost his focus and that inexorable grip on my mind relented for a second and that second was enough for I still held my sword and I was shaolin trained.

In that second, I thrust with all my strength and will, my kiiaaiii shattering the night as the point of my sword shattered that blackened heart, piercing it through and piercing Cecilia's heart at one and the same time and she was dead but now she would stay dead and not rise as the undead did if left alone.

Ruthven's scream hissed from his gaping mouth, the whistle of steam from the pot over heated and his head turned, his fangs sought me but my sword held him and the dagger plucked from my braided hair pierced his eye and drove into his brain and his immortal body found death at last.

Byron looked up at me, standing above them all and my sword transfixed Ruthven's black heart and driven through him, transfixed also poor golden-haired Cecilia and the point had nicked Byron's chest.

"Why not me too?" he shuddered, wild-eyed, panting hard and he had not reached his fulfillment..

"The vampyre bit you not," I said, and I too was breathing for the vampyre's mind had held me and its thoughts had filled me and still that desire, that lust, it filled my mind to overflowing.

Ruthven came down like a wolf on the fold,

And his teeth were gleaming with red and gold;

And the sheen of his fangs is like death in the night,

With the blood on his chin, it's quite a sight....

"Something else is quite a sight," I gasped, kicking Ruthven's body sideways and Cecilia went with him and Byron was priapically erect and released, he sits up, he takes my hands and he draws me down onto the floor and I'm shuddering with excitement as he moves over me, his knees between my legs. I find his rigid hardness with my hand, guide him eagerly to me as I draw my knees back, as I expose and surrender myself to him.

I shuddered, moaning as he mounted me, as he possessed me and he's not gentle. He takes me hard and fast. His weight is on me, I draw my knees further back, I'm open to his thrusting possession, he thrusts himself inside me, cradled by my thighs as he pins my hands to the floor above my head and fills me again and again and again while I moan with excitement for he is the first man other than Sylvester to take me and I am filled with desire.

His movements are fast and hard and I revel in his taking of me, my heels bouncing against his hips as he moves inside me. All my being is focused on the sensations he creates within me as his cock thrusts in and out of me, sheathing himself in me hard, withdrawing, sliding back in again, heedless of my enjoyment, slaking his own desire. My channel clasps him, he fills me, he fucks me and my entire body ripples with the pleasure I feel.

"Ohhhhhhh" I moan, looking up at his face, his chest crushing down on my tender breasts, his body riding mine hard and I want to be so good for him. I want to give him such pleasure, I want to give him enjoyment, I want his cock to hilt itself in me knowing I am there for him to pleasure himself in and I know it s the vampyre's desires that fill my mind but it makes no difference because that is what I feel.

His naked body moves on mine. I'm beneath him, I've surrendered myself to him, opened myself wide to him and his cock thrusts into me at the juncture of my thighs where I offer myself to him for his taking, for his pleasure and he pounds his cock into me, the walls of my channel surrendering to him, clasping his thickness as he fills me inside.

"Ohhhhh." I groan as he presses himself to the hilt inside me. All of him and I'm shuddering with the pleasure of it as I feel him there, as I clasp all of him within me. He's so far up inside me and I every inch of him is big and hard and I'm stretched around him where he enters me and it's an exquisite sensation, clasping him there where he joins my body, where I'm forced open for him to enter me, to penetrate inside me, to sheathe himself in me and he does, he sheathes himself in me with relentless power.

"Uuuhhhhh." His cock is all the way inside me again, he's moving hard, exquisite friction as he pounds himself in and out of me and he's pounding me against the floor, hard and fast and I can't help making noises. Moans. Gasps. Cries. Sobs. My hands clutch at his where he pins them to the floor and I revel in my submission. My surrender. I'm his and I want to be his, I enjoy my surrender, I enjoy my position on my back, my legs spread wide, drawn back, so open to him. So helpless. His. Completely his.

I'd speak, but his thrusting cock drives the words out of my mind and all I have is my need to surrender myself, my desire to be taken, to be used, to satisfy him with my body until he reaches his culmination. He does. He thrusts hard, his cock pounds into me, his shoulder and back muscles tense and strain under my hands where I'm clutching at him. My eyes stare blindly up at his face as my back arches, my feet kick helplessly towards the ceiling as his cock rams into me and rams into me and rams into me. His pelvis slaps noisily up against me, the head of his cock pushes up against my cervix, hurting me, but now even the pain I feel is pleasure.

"Uuhhh ... uuhhh ... uhhhh ..." I hear myself groan with each of this thrusting drives, helpless groans, forced from me by the power of his movements. My body welcomes his passion, welcomes his power, revels in his desire for me. I would urge him on, urge him to greater intensity, urge him to use me harder if I could but I can't, all I can do is utter those wordless groans of surrender as he uses my body for his pleasure.

His cock seems to swell inside me, he's so hard. Rigid. A solid bar of steel that pierces me, impales me, drives into me deeply again and again and again, faster, harder. He has one hand under my shoulders, holding me in place, his other hand works its way down under me, his fingers splay wide under my butt, lifting me a little. Impossibly, his cock seems to drive deeper within me.

"Ooaagghhh ... uuughhhh .... uughhhh..." My choked out groans become more intense, if that's possible. His cock sheaths itself within me again and again, his hips move, he drives himself up inside me, his cockhead frictioning against the clasping walls of my channel with every slide. He's close. I know he's close and my own pleasure is growing now, closer and closer with every pounding thrust. My hands clutch at him, my fingers dig into his skin, my feet bounce against his hips as he has me.

His weight, his strength, he's so big on me, above me, his thrusts sink his cock to the hilt inside me, drive me down onto the floor and he's not being gentle with me. He's taking me. It's so good.

"Uughhh." I'm beyond words, I groan as he thrusts into me, hard. His body slaps up against mine, my hands clutch at his back, my head arches back, my feet kick upwards towards the ceiling. There's no thought, no words, there's nothing in my mind beyond sensation and emotion and the sheer joy of being taken by him.

"Uugghhh .... Uggghhh ... huuuuhhhh...." He drives the breath from me with every movement. I'm sheened with sweat, his body slides wetly on mine, my breasts are crushed beneath his chest, deliciously harsh friction as he strains against me.

He's holding me tight, one arm under my shoulders, half supporting his weight, his other hand roams over my hip, my thigh, touching me everywhere and he's fucking me the way he wants to fuck me. He's enjoying me, enjoying fucking me, I look into his eyes, I see his face and there's nothing there but his desire for me, his need, his want and I know that for him, right now, it's all about me.

My body under his, taut and hot against him, my thighs cradling him, my cunt slickly clasping his cock as he slides himself in and out of me and he's using me, fucking me, reveling in what his cock is experiencing as he has me and I want to be everything to him. Everything in the world and I cross my ankles behind his back and i squeeze him tight, I clasp him in me as he moves.

I wail wordlessly, arching my back beneath him, tightening myself on him, "do me do me do me do it to me do it in me ..." and he does.

His cock throbs, pulses, pumps. He groans, throwing his head back, body arching, driving into me as his cum spurts out once more, deep inside me, my cunt welcoming his fluid eruption, milking him as she fills me with his semen and if anything there's more than there was last night. He cums and cums and cums and it's like a volcano is erupting inside me, flooding me, filling me and I want it. I want it all, every drop of his cum and he gives it to me.

I lie beneath him, cradling his weight on me, our bodies slippery with our intermingled sweat, my hands continue stroking his back and his shoulders. His head lowers, it rests beside me, his breath hot against my ear. His cock is still inside me and even softening, even after this is over, it feels so good within me. I want to keep him here, with me. His body on mine feels so good, so wonderful and I'm glowing in the aftermath of my climax as I do after Sylvester has brought me this pleasure and perhaps there is more to this free love than I had thought.

"I'm taking you to my bed," he says, and he does, but only after I have beheaded all three bodies and thrown the heads in the fire and it is morning and the sun is rising before I leave his bed.

"I think we should cut back on the laudanum a little," Sylvester said as he walked into the room, and he had slept not in our bed for it was from another room he had emerged and I had seen him for I had returned to our room myself only seconds before and had glimpsed him, and behind him, Mary.

"I think we should leave today," I yawned, thankful that my dear Weitang had filled the tub with water and I was already seated in it as he had entered the room. My clothes were in Byron's room but I trusted my dear Weitang to discreetly ensure they were returned and seated in that tub, in evidence of my night's indiscretions with Byron were now washed away.

"Yes," he agreed, yawning. "Let's. The pace here is a little fast for me."

"And for me, Sylvester, dearest," I said. "Let us leave these poets to their writing and perhaps visit Vienna. I have a desire to see this Empire of theirs."

"Your wish is my command, my dearest," Sylvester said. "We shall make our farewells this very day."

"You have interesting friends, Sylvester," I murmured, looking back at the Villa Diodati as it receded behind us. Never did I wish to remember that name. Never did I wish to remember Ruthven, for the sight of those fangs extended and dripping blood would permeate my dreams. As would that last vision of poor Auden and poor lovely Cecilia, dead beside me as Byron rutted with me in the aftermath of that frenzied desire that had possessed us both and there was no need to mention that to dear Sylvester.

After all, I'd seen him with Mary.

Auden, Cecilia. Ruthven. Dead. All dead. Auden and Cecilia's love and dreams vanished as if they never had been. I had no idea what a vampyre dreamed of though, and no desire to find out. I wondered how Byron would explain their deaths. I did find myself wondering what Byron would do with all the bodies but he was an enterprising sort. Between he and Mary, I was sure they'd find a way. Take them out in his boat weighted with rocks and toss them over the side in deep water and then deny they'd ever been their more than likely.

Poor, ambitious Auden. His dreams of glorious literature, his poetic aspirations, all doomed but at least he was not damned, for I had taken his head and removed his heart, burning both and scattering the ashes into the deep blue waters of Lake Geneva intermingled with those of his beloved Cecilia. Dead they might be at the vampyre's hand, but they would not return as undead.

They would not be forever damned as Ruthven was and I was glad of that, for I had rather liked Cecilia. Would that she had lived, for I would have been eager to explore her sapphic inclinations. Perhaps I might find another such pale-skinned golden-haired young beauty to tempt and tease while my dear Sylvester worked himself into a frenzy of desire.

"Rather more interesting than I knew, my dearest Li-hua," my husband said, his hand taking mine as we jounced along that rutted track towards Geneva and the inn that once more awaited us.

"Sylvester," I said, rather pensively. "Perhaps we might return to your home after visiting this Vienna. I find this travel a little too exciting." I thought about that. "Your country estate, Baskerville Manor? There are no vampyres rumored there? Nothing untowards?"

"Not at all, my dear," Sylvester said. "Why do you ask about vampyres?"

"Just a passing thought," I said. "What is there to do?"

"I can teach you to ride to the hounds," Sylvester said eagerly.

"I'm sure I'd enjoy that," I replied, smiling as I rested my head against my husband's shoulder and now I whispered into his ear. "And perhaps you might like to take me in that way."

His puzzled look drew a giggle from me. "Woof woof," I murmured, only to find that jolt from that next rut sending me six inches above the seat.

"Sylvester," I gasped as he seized me in mid-air and whirled me around, raising my loose gown to my waist in one easy movement and there were certain advantages to these european fashions, I had to admit. "What are you doing?"

"Making love to my wife," he growled, and I needed no further encouragement to unfasten his riding breeches and what a good thing we were both wearing travelling clothes.