My Little Ventrue Pt. 04 Ch. 06

Cum started to pour through his length, hot, tingling, each squeeze of his muscles earning more of the sweet, tantalizing pleasure of thick heat flowing through his cock. Another flex, met with Antoinette's grip rising closer to his glans, sent an almost painful wave of pleasure down his length, and a spurt of the liquid to squirt onto the wall in front of him.

"Ever so sweet," she said, and her grip on his shaft rose again. With her palm and fingers circling him just under the glans, she shifted her grip up and down, so the sheathe of his skin, along with her fingers, and his cum, massaged and coated the base edge of the bulbous tip of his cock, the most sensitive place on his body. And he groaned. No use trying to hide how amazing it felt, how perfect it was, how her fingers caught where his cum dripped from his glans, spread the warmth around, and used it to lubricate his cock as she milked him. Again, her hair tickled along the tip of his shaft as she aimed it more upright, and growled down over him as she stroked him again, and again, and again. And once no more cum leaked from him, she milked the waves of pleasure instead, strokes shortening and becoming gentle.

"Say that you love me, my little Ventrue."

"I love you." So manipulative. Demanding such words after working an orgasm out of him. Hell, she was still stroking his cum-coated cock, and making him squirm as the final tingles of post-orgasm bliss started to fade. There was some definite Pavlovian manipulation going on here.

But that was fine, because he did love her.

"And I trust you to never betray our love. I do. So, do not worry if your eyes wander. The women at the ball will be dressed to invite your eyes, and it would be rude to ignore that request." She let go of his neck at last, and lowered the hand to run a fingertip around and around the tip of his cock, spreading the soon-to-fade cum. "I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the intrigued, aroused gazes of people, when I wear clothing such as this. Mostly, it is your gazes I crave, my dearest love, but forgive a woman for delighting in her vanity, and enjoying the eyes of strangers."

"F-Forgiven, definitely forgiven. And can you wear that dress? More often? When we're alone."

She kissed his ear, and purred once again. "Of course."

He sighed his bliss, and looked down, now that she had both hands on his length. He was still hard, and she was still massaging his length. And she wasn't stopping.

Having sex so often, sometimes with the rather demanding task of satisfying three women, was having an effect on him. A man's recovery period from orgasm was only a biological function after all, and Kindred could bypass any biological function with practice. Or in this case, with an conscious and unconscious need. His body, his mind, his beast, they wanted more. More.

She started to stroke him faster again, and nudged her cheek against his as she caught on. No words needed, she knew he wanted more. She brought her other hand up again to find his neck again, but this time she kept her fingers around his throat more gentle so he could look down, and watch how her beautiful, cum-coated hand worked him.

"I would be lying," she said, "if I did not find our regular bouts to have affected me, my love. Forever I have enjoyed touch upon my breasts, but, your persistent kissing, suckling, massaging, and pampering has lead to an increase in my own desire, as it has apparently done in you as well."

"I... I um..." Too good, the sound of her husky voice in his ear as she massaged his wet cock. Cum as lubricant, joined by more precum, made everything slide perfectly along the skin, his ripe glans, so the pleasuring heat of impending climax started once again.

"To simply lay there, and let my love suckle and massage my breasts for as long as you enjoy? The thought of it leaves me dripping wet." She whispered the words directly into his ear, and her stroking hand grew faster. "And to sit upon you, hold your length sheathed inside me, and cradle your head to my breasts, is bliss. Utter bliss. Or, to touch myself, my breasts, to caress them as you set your lips upon my folds, and your fingers within my recesses?" She pressed herself to him harder, until her nipples were stabbing him like diamonds. "I can feel myself dripping down my thighs, at this very moment, at the thought. I—"

He came again.

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They took a limousine, a proper, fancy, large limousine, with more than enough room for half a dozen people to sit around comfortably. Course it was just him and the Prince, and she snuggled up against the side of him as he sat down.

God, he still couldn't keep his eyes off of her. The dress exposed so much skin, skin he'd been fondling only moments before, skin he'd covered in his cum dozens of times. Maybe if they had time, she'd—no no, she just gave you a handjob, you idiot, two at that. And you're on the way to an important and expensive party, a ball, had by your covenant. Yes, there will be women there, scantily clad. Yes, there will be thralls and ghouls there, for showing off, for drinking, and even sharing. Yes, vampires were going to get horny, and have to contain that arousal until they went home. It was only natural sex was going to be on his mind, especially with Antoinette sitting beside him with her breasts almost completely exposed, and every inch of her stomach all the way down to her mons pubis also exposed.

Memories of so many nights, sitting on her waist and coating that valley of skin in his cum, refused to stay put. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop picturing the beautiful woman next to him, with her dress pulled apart again so he could caress and suckle on her nipples while she stroked his head, cradled him, while she jerked him off again.

"My love, I can see that twinkle in your eye."

"W-Wha? Oh, sorry, just... can't help but stare at you wearing that." He gestured to the plunging cleavage that reached far far below her navel, and how it was just a loose, single string that kept the cleavage from parting to fully expose her nipples.

"After what I did but twenty minutes ago? My, your sex drive is boundless."

"I'm sorry! Just... embraced pretty young, you know?"

"That you were. And, to my delight, a young man such as you will forever, eternally lust with such vigor." She reached out, slipped her arm behind his back, and settled it on his shoulders while her other hand reached down, took one of his hands, and guided it to her lips. Kiss, kiss, more kisses on his knuckles as she grinned at him with that mischievous devil gaze. "If my hands were not enough, when this ball is fini, I will take care of you once again. Though, this time, you will be satisfying my needs first." Another kiss, this time with a hint of her fangs putting pressure on his skin. "Multiple times." And she was using her order voice. Not a request then.

"Yes ma'am."

"Merci beaucoup. I expect to have your tongue upon my breasts and my folds for the remainder of the night." A tight hug, and she leaned down to plant a kiss upon his head. "But, perhaps tomorrow, we could embark on a social activity less sexual?"

Well, they did have sex. A lot. All the time. He always wanted it and she always wanted him to want it. But he did want to do more, just never knew what she'd want to do.

"Any ideas?"

"Ben oui. I believe there are operas you may enjoy, and you wished to hear more of my cello playing, did you not?" She gave him another kiss on his buzzed hair, and released his hand only to set her hand on his chest and adjust his suit. Shoulder was probably sitting off center or something. "Or perhaps, we could simply sit down together, and watch television?"

"I have to admit I have a hard time imagining you enjoying television."

"I have seen the rise of radio, the phone, television in its original form, blurry images of black and white, and have seen the growing era of virtual reality. But, you are correct, it is rare for me to enjoy a television show. Trite garbage."

He laughed. Yeah, it was garbage. "But not all of it's horrible garbage. Some of it is good garbage. I'd say we could both binge watch a show sometime, but that doesn't really work unless you're willing to sit down for three or fours hours a night for a few nights straight."

"Alas, that would not work for either of us. Perhaps a movie?"

Try as he might, he couldn't stop the smile from sneaking onto his lips. Hearing her, her French accent, and her godliness say 'movie' was just too cute.

"Ashley and Julee don't try and force you to watch movies? Romcoms or such?"

"Oh, the two little minxes try, but they fail. For you though, little Ventrue? I am willing to experiment." Another kiss for his head, and her roaming hand found his neck, where she adjusted the collar of his shirt. "A trade of tastes. You test your palette upon my flavors of choice, and I yours. Though, as the woman in this relationship, I fully expect to have an unfair bias in this exchange, in my favor." As if to prove her point, she pressed the side of her body into his, her nearest breast pushing to his shoulder as she ran her hand down his body and down to his leg, near his crotch. "Non?"

"S-Sure! Yeah, um, opera right? I'll try it, gladly." He grinned up at the goddess. Christ she could be so damn sexy, just being playful, and fun. And scary when she wanted to be too. Even now, he could catch just a hint, just a wisp of her dominant side coming through, where each proposition she made, each request, held a hint of danger if he said no to any of them. Of course, she'd never hurt him for saying no, but it was definitely not a word she was used to hearing. And he had no reason to say it.

"Bien." And yet another kiss on his head, before the woman turned to look out the window of the limousine. "I do wonder as to the arrangements Julias and his council have made for this ball."

"You don't know? I just assumed they'd tell you. I don't know either."

"A surprise is a part of the experience." Shrugging, her arm around his shoulders bent a little, so she could set her fingers on his ear, and lightly tug on and stroke his earlobe while still looking out the window. "But I can speculate. This is a ball to remind us all of, and embrace the peace the city holds. As such, I expect music, jovial and classical, while there will also be seating, with thralls being drained and blood set into wine glasses. Some of the more adventurous will drink directly from the source, while some Kindred will prefer to keep such acts private, to at least some extent. So the wine glass will be a common choice for tonight; perhaps goblets, for the Primogen and myself. There will be no formal dinner, but rather tables along the walls of the main chamber, where people may sit if they wish, or rise and dance to the music if they wish. And, if the past is any indication, more than a few kine will be naked and thoroughly drained, of blood and more, before the night is done."

"... you speculate all this?"

"My love, when you are as old as I, these things become routine." Her smile faded, and she looked back to him as her eyes grew heavy. "A different topic. I understand most Kindred are finding safer places to rest come sunrise. What have you done?"

Right, that. Julias had told him, but he wasn't really sure what to do. He'd never made a 'secure' sleeping den before. "Nothing yet."

"Then, please, sleep within my tower until you find a safe place to spend your days."

"Really?"

"Oui. My little Ventrue, you sleep upon my bed half the days of the week as is."

"Yeah, but, sleeping every night? Sounds like we're moving in together."

She leaned down toward him, planted a kiss upon his lips, and nudged her nose against his. "You will still have your normal living den, for your nightly activities. But come the day, come to my bed chambers, rest your head upon my bosom, and fall asleep in my arms."

He smiled, and nodded. He could do that, gladly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~Natasha~~

She'd narrowed the choice down to two dresses. One was a beautiful, simple ivory dress that had straps, some moderate cleavage that worked nicely with her tiny — frustratingly tiny — breasts, and a long skirt that hugged the legs pretty tight all the way down to the ankles. It was smooth, silky, and very pretty. The other dress was red, very bold, and it too was a dress with straps, except the skirt only reached a couple inches down her thighs, open back, and the cleavage was plunging and reached below the navel.

She wanted to wear the ivory one. Jessy told her she should wear the red one. But now she was alone, in her new apartment, without Jessy to bully her into trying something she didn't want to try. Jessy was so bold, she'd probably long forgotten that she was an aggressive woman at all. Just watching her and Fiona throw themselves at that Eric fellow was like watching two teenagers trying to out-slut each other. No, that wasn't fair to them. Still though, pretty awkward.

That Eric man was very attractive though. Not as big as the other bouncers, but he reminded her of Garry, a very dangerous man; so of course Jessy threw herself at him. And she was sure the woman would get into his pants eventually, or maybe Fiona would? It turned out Fiona wasn't the sexual predator she'd made herself out to be, or told Damien she was, apparently. Flirtatious sure, but not the sort of girl to sleep around. Or maybe she wanted to be, and that was part of why she came to Dolareido from her home town, cause in Dolareido people slept with each other as much as shaking hands?

Stalling, Natasha, you're stalling. Pick a dress. She frowned, laid them both on the bed beside each other, and compared. Both designed to fit her small body, but one was classy, the other looked like something Jessy might wear. Hell the other looked like one Jessy might fuck in, in Bloodlust.

Some knocks at the door. Sighing, Natasha walked over to the door and peeked through the view hole. She was expecting Jessy to pay a surprise visit, and—wait, that was Art, and Matt! She looked down at herself, and sighed. Just a white t-shirt and her pajama bottoms. Pink pajama bottoms.

Go change! No, don't change. She didn't need to wear better clothes for her boyfriends. Hehe, boyfriends, plural. Remember what Antoinette said, about embracing the things you like, and that the boys probably liked you despite your attempts to hide your true nature, not because of hiding it.

She opened the door. "Hello Arturo, Matthew."

"Hey babe," Art said, evil grin fully adorned as he stepped into her place.

Matt followed in behind him, his smile much more warm and inviting. Not that she disliked Art's more mischievous, devil smile, but she had to admit, it was the combination of Matt and Art's personalities that made them so appealing together. "Hey Tasha. Like the pajamas."

"D-Do you?" She stepped away and smiled a little smile, before she reached down and tried to smooth them out. "They're uh... p-pretty... um..."

"Very pretty." Art chased after her, a little faster than she was backing up, and he set his hands on her hips as she continued backing up, until Matt caught him by the back of the collar. Like catching a horny dog by the leash.

"Dude, shoes."

Rolling his eyes, Art let go of her and got down to a knee to undo his shoes, leaving Natasha giggling and smiling.

"I like w-what you're wearing t-too. Handsome."

They grinned and nodded, like young boys given treats. The two of them were wearing gray suits. Normal suits you'd wear to a nice party; no ties though. Someone must have told them about the unusual dress code of the ball, the weird formal-but-not-so-formal-also-unique style of it. It looked great on them. She did always like how a suit emphasized shoulders, and both her boyfriends had big shoulders.

"What're you b-boys doing here? I thought I was g-g-going... to meet you at the ball?"

"Meet us?" Matt said. "Come on, you know the guy has to show up at the girl's place and take her on the date."

"I... I guess, I j-just haven't even gotten dressed yet! I'm trying to pick."

"Well I think we can help with that." And, again, Art came after her, like a wolf chasing prey. She made a tiny squeak and ran away, only for the man to chase her down until she was cornered in the center of the room. Trapped!

Art reached out for her, like a beast trying to grab her, and she slipped under his hands. But Matt was waiting for her, and she squealed as the man caught her in his massive hands.

In the two minutes since their arrival, she'd regressed to a silly little girl. And it was fun! Fun. She laughed as the giant flipped her over his shoulder, and she set her elbows against his back as she looked at Art, once the big guy turned around.

"Y-yeah, um, I have two dresses picked out, on my bed."

"Two? Hell I've known girls who were still working on ten this far out from a party," he said.

"Well, I'm n-not most girls. I like to prepare."

Matt nodded from underneath her, and pat her leg a couple times as he walked toward her room. Once in there, he set her down gently, and stood by the edge of her bed to look down at the two dresses she'd laid out. Art did too, standing opposite of Matt so she was standing between the two of them.

"So," Art said, "your options are slutty, or classy? Red, or white?"

"Y-Yeah. And, n-n-not white. Pale skin and white... d-d-don't match. It's ivory."

Matthew scooped up the ivory dress. Art scooped up the red dress. "Try this," they both said, at the same time.

Oh good god the dresses were a metaphor for her boyfriends.

But Art rolled his eyes and tossed aside the red dress. "I'm kidding. You'd really be comfortable at a party wearing something like this?"

"Well... n-no, but Jessy—"

"You're not Jessy," he said. "And besides, the white dress is beautiful. Isn't it Lenny?" And of course he slipped in white again, knowing full well it'd frustrate her, calling it the wrong color.

"It is. Very classy." Matt set the dress on her shoulder, and smiled down at her. Big, warm, happy smile. "I mean, by all means wear the red dress. When you're with us. In private."

She giggled again, and nodded as she scooped up the red dress before putting it away in her closet. But, as she did, she felt the looming presence of people behind her. Turning around, she gasped as she found Art, once again, reaching out for her. His hands took her hips, and the man brought her in closer to him, pressing his hips to hers. Except he was so tall, it was more like him pressing his hips against her stomach and chest.

"You... I know that look! W-W-We... don't have time for that!"

"You sure?" This time it was Matt with the devious grin on his face, and he sat beside the dress on the bed as he watched her. "We got what, thirty minutes before we should probably head out? Plenty of time."

Art nodded like the crazy man was making sense. He very much was not.

"I need time to put on makeup! You know, b-b-ball makeup, and stuff. You know? G-Girl stuff."

Art sat down on the bed as well, and both boys pouted the most ridiculous pouts she'd ever seen. Matt could pull it off, but on Art, it just looked he was being sneaky and manipulative again, and obviously so.

"O-Ok," she said. "Um... after, after the ball, w-we can... have sex."

The two boys perked right up, like she'd given them candy. Boys! Just a pair of silly boys. Except, when they were on her, holding her, doing things to her, they stopped behaving like silly boys. Far more mature, far more... dominant. Maybe just a quickie? No! No stop thinking about it, you have a ball to get ready for. And besides, you prefer it when you get to dedicate some time to the act, not just ten minutes.

"Ok, I have to get dressed n-now."