My Carpathian Princess Ch. 02


Veronica smiled at the thought of becoming a truly beautiful and shapely woman. She had always wondered if her little breasts would develop into a womanly shape, if her hips would widen like those of some women she had known. She had seen the men's eyes, sometimes looking with lust and darkness, but sometimes a boy looked at a girl as though he was lost in her charms. And that look was one she had wished to have lavished upon her.

This new life was going to be strange. It was filled with fascinating possibility, and she felt that the world was new and promising, and that her journey was just beginning.

Vashta spoke, "One more thing and then we sleep. About giving your nipples to a boy's suckling mouth...there are benefits to you of binding him to you and the pleasure and relief of having your breasts, aching with milk, emptied by a happy man. As much as it is hard to admit, we are women and we can always derive pleasure from pleasing a man. It makes me content and happy when I hold a spent, smiling boy in my arms as he suckles, and feel his relaxed breathing and his trust. They can be so sweet and precious gifts, our boys...and you shall have many, as I have had."

Vashta continued, "The binding will keep you young. You will not age as long as you suckle a boy. For his part, he shall not age either, and these are the problems. As the years pass in the village, the people eventually notice that you and your young man are never sick, and never age. You must move every few years, and it is a trial. Your young man can be injured working in the field or with the flocks. He can be taken by a Lord to war and die. He can be killed in a brawl. And when this happens, and it is only a matter of time before it does, your heart will be broken because you'll feel it when he dies and you'll ache and cry for months after because you have loved him so deeply in your soul."

Silence permeated the forest clearing for a few minutes as Vashta remembered sadly. Veronica didn't speak, in respect of the woman's feelings.

"It will be decades before the pain is passed sufficiently that you are willing to choose and bind a boy again. The pain departs, but you will never forget him -- you will always love your first man. You will begin to search for a boy who looks and acts and talks like the one you lost. It will take years, but you will find him. Sometimes you'll believe it is your boy again, so uncanny will be the resemblance, though centuries separate their births... In the intervening decades you will age, one year to ten. This alone will drive you to find a boy lest you become an old crone from being to selective. This is the curse I have put upon you and I am sorry, but it is what happens for Wampyrie. It is unavoidable."

Veronica sat quietly, thinking of the joy of having a young man of her own, and then the heartache of losing him again. She saw that Vashta was crying silently, her shoulders wracking softly and tears streaming down her cheeks. When she had recovered she spoke again.

"A Wampyrie is strong. You cannot be killed but by fire or decapitation. Your bones will become like iron and your flesh will remain soft and pliable, yet difficult to pierce as armor. When your man is in danger, it would be so easy for you to step in and rescue him, though he was surrounded by a hundred armed men. But you would then be known for what you are, and hunted thereafter; and you would have unmanned him, for which he would forever feel sad, even if you left no witnesses. There are many other circumstances of which I must warn you, but we have time. Let us rest now..."

Without another word the women slept, each left to her own thoughts. Veronica found sleep difficult, due to the surging strength and energy still building in her little frame as the transformation to full Wampyrie continued inside her body. She had her first feeding and the new organization of organs and bone, muscle and sinew, was underway at full gallop. In the first light of dawn she stood and walked from the dying embers to watch the sunrise.

She sensed a presence and scanned the forest, easily seeing into the darkest shadows even to great distance. There were six wolves standing only 50 paces away, looking at her. At first she felt a shock of fear, trained into her from childhood -- wolf and bear were to be avoided at all cost, lest a young girl lose her life. The fear passed quickly, replaced by some new knowledge that the animals had more to fear from her than she from they. Somehow they knew it as well. She took a tentative step toward them and they cowered. She took another step and they turned and fled.

She returned to the fire, a smile tracing her lips; how interesting, she thought....

I cannot know whether this story was spoken to me or not. All I know is that it played across my mind in vivid color, as though I were an observer of the action, right there next to Veronica. As I began to come to myself, I pictured the face and body of the brother who was Veronica's first conquest as a Wampyrie.

He looked remarkably like me, or perhaps I looked him.

I became fully aware of my body once more. I was on my back on Veronica's desk, eyes open and looking at the sculpted tiles of her ceiling. I was sweating lightly. My hips were writhing of their own accord and I could feel that Veronica's mouth and hand were on my erect penis, rubbing and sucking vigorously, pulling all of my body's blood and energy into a focused point between my spread thighs. My breath was coming in fast shallow pants, my muscles were contracting and I began to moan as I felt the falling sensation overwhelm me and the first rush of semen erupted from my core.

I heard and felt Veronica's purr of delight resonate through my genitals as my ejaculation spurted into her welcoming mouth. She rode me through the longest orgasm I had ever experienced. It seemed that I just kept coming, spurt after strong spurt, into her eager throat. I kept thinking each spurt was my last, but she would somehow wring from me another and another as I writhed and convulsed under her.

Finally, completely spent and exhausted, I fell back onto the desk top, arms askew, completely and utterly done in. She removed her mouth, but continued to gently stroke my softening penis upward, licking my head every few strokes. I knew that she was milking my last few drops of semen, taking her time, in no rush to be finished.

When I was completely soft in her hand, she laid my penis down on my belly, and I felt her nuzzling and kissing my testicles, inhaling deeply as she did so as if to consume me fully, including my scent. Her hands caressed my thighs and belly as she nuzzled, as though she couldn't get enough of me and it felt wonderful to be such a delight to this beautiful woman. I lay relaxed and calm as she communed between my thighs, making contented little sounds.

I don't know how long I lay there, but after a while she picked her head up and sat back in her chair. She helped my feet off of her arm rests and placed them down to dangle off the desk. I tried to sit up and she helped me. She was smiling and she licked her lips slowly so that I couldn't help but notice.

"Well, hello there," she said seductively, her feminine charms wasted on me, due to the completely empty and numb feeling in my genitals. It wasn't that I was merely sated, I felt completely drained, empty, used up. I smiled, feeling a little bit ashamed of my condition and situation, but I was encouraged by her warm smile and the affection that radiated so clearly from her eyes.

"Hi," I said, lowering my eyes sheepishly.

Her face darkened with concern, "Are you alright, Jeffrey?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so," I said breathlessly.

"Can you walk?" she asked softly.

I nodded and she stood up, rolling her chair back, and held out her hands to me. I took them for support and stood in front of her, and again we were very close. She wrapped her arms around me again and I reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her waist, as she pressed me to her bosom. After a moment, she released me and bent to pick up my previously discarded shorts, and squatting down in front of me, to took her time to carefully help me to step into the shorts so that I wouldn't fall in my recovering state. She pulled the waist up and settled it on my hips, tying the draw string and patting it down. I was enamored with her care and concern for my well being, even dressing me in this silly garment.

"Let's get more comfortable, dear," she said, and with one arm around my waist she led me to one of the doors at the side of her office. Opening it, I saw a large bedroom, very feminine in pink, white, and purple. The bed was a large canopy style, with diaphanous white fabric wrapped on the posts and the top railings just so. The carpet was lush and white. There was a very feminine vanity with mirrors, a dresser and chest of drawers, a divan covered in a pink floral pattern with purple velvet pillows. All in all, it was the fantasy bedroom of every 14 year old girl.

She looked at me demurely, "Do you think it's too much?" she asked smiling.

"No," I said, "it looks like the bedroom of a very romantic female. It's you."

She grinned and hugged me tightly, letting a slight "umph" of discomfort pass her lips. I could tell from the movements of her body that her breasts were in some pain, and I remembered the story that I had just 'witnessed' in my mind.

She backed away and held me at arm's length and looking into my eyes seriously.

"I know this is all very new to you and sudden, Jeffrey. I am sorry for the way it has happened, but you now understand much of my situation. I want you to know that I have your best interests at heart, truly. It's just that I have been so long pining for you, wanting you, needing you, needing the young man that you are in the depths of my long-deprived heart. And now I have found you, Jeffrey. It's very difficult for me to go slowly, for you are so familiar to me in every way."

She paused, to gather her courage, and continued. "Whether by a trick of genetics or a supernatural phenomenon, I do not know. But I saw you a year ago at a bus stop, and I have watched you in every imaginable situation. I have watched to treat people with respect when they didn't deserve it. I have watched you cry alone in your loneliness. I have watched you sleep countless times. I've watched you toil in the laundry and the restaurant where you work. I was wary, but you are a good young man, alone in the world, fearful of your future yet determined to stand up to it somehow. You are the young man of my dreams, and I want you so badly I cannot stand to be apart from you any longer."

That was quite a mouthful, and from the look of sincerity if not desperation on her face, I felt the pull in my heart and realized I wasn't just infatuated with this mysterious woman. If a 19 year old boy can love, I felt that I loved her too. I had from the moment I saw her, even though our ages seemed to make no sense. She seemed like home and comfort and safety to me, and I never wanted to be away from her again, no matter what the cost.

My silence as I considered these things must have frightened her, because a look of trepidation came over her face. "Oh, Jeffrey..." she muttered, "I should have been more careful. I should not have rushed you so... Can you forgive me? Can you let me start again to woo you?"

She looked at me with raw emotion in her face and I thought she was on the verge of tears. Suddenly I felt very bad for not having blurted out and encouraging response.

I looked at her heart shaped face, her delicate chin, large and pouting lips with her ruby lipstick smudged a bit, her fascinating blue/grey eyes, and her tenderly crinkled brow -- betraying her worry. I boldly moved forward and took her again in her arms, holding her soft and curvaceous body against me. I had no sexual feelings at that moment, so completely drained I was of any hint of arousal. Because of that, I knew that my thoughts were clear.

As I held her tightly, she kicked off her heels and molded her soft body against me as only a woman can, but there was still a tension in her, a waiting for the other shoe to drop. As though it might be her last moment to hold me, she ignored the mounting discomfort in her breasts, exhaling sharply against the dull ache that I somehow knew was there, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight; nestling her face against my throat.

She had said all she could, and now was at my mercy. I could give her unimaginable joy or utter condemnation with my next words and she knew it. I somehow knew it was very hard for her. She had lived for centuries as Wampyrie, in control, in power. To be now revealed as and reduced to a romantic and emotional woman like any other, whose fragile heart was about to be broken by harsh male judgment, was a very rare moment for her.

Something inside me, perhaps base and mean, but born from being the prey -- the object of calculated manipulation -- made me wait and listen to her shallow breathing and the quick beating of her fragile heart. Regardless that she was Wampyrie; she was also still a woman fully and completely, as vulnerable to her heart's longings as any other. And for the first time in my 19 short years, I felt as a man, not a boy. I held her fragile heart in my hand, and I could crush it if I wished to do so.

But her very fragility, her vulnerability, her softness, the fact that she was depending on my answer -- on my action -- to decide her fate melted me inside and any offence at her previous machinations drained from me, to be replaced with understanding, compassion, And I knew in that moment that I was, in fact, a man now -- despite my short years. For a man has compassion for a woman's frailty of heart. She is made to be loved and to love, no matter if she had power to destroy a small army. No matter if she was Wampyrie. No matter if she was immortal. She was a woman and needed to be loved in order to live.

I felt her tenseness lessen, and I think she began to silently cry. Now I was ashamed of myself, I was angry at my hesitance to respond. But I had needed the time to think, to process my thoughts, to understand both her and myself better.

With one hand I raised her chin and made her look at me. She hurried to wipe away a tear from her eye, embarrassed that I had seen her weakness. She blinked back further tears and steeled herself for the blow she knew was coming. I could read the determination in her eyes not to be weak, not to be soft and feminine. She drew on the strength of centuries of survival -- the wickedness she had done, and the cruel pragmatism that she had to practice in order to stay alive for so long. I also knew the utter disappointment, the devastation she felt, the complete defeat she would now face. Again. I knew that it had happened before.

And I realized that while I could feel and taste bits of her thoughts, emotions, and memories, she had no access to mine! Otherwise she'd not be readying herself for the emotional train wreck she knew was coming!

She tried to pull her chin from my hand, but I held on. Certainly she had the strength to overpower me, but she chose not to use it. I could almost hear her thought, a shout in Vashta's long gone voice -- "Be still girl! You will not break the covenant of men!" I didn't know exactly what 'covenant' meant, but I knew that the idea was a Wampyrie rule or law. Wampyrie did not, unless attacked or to protect their loved ones, use their superior strength against men. They would live as women with men, no matter the cost.

Imagine that, I thought.

I could tell what it cost her to push down the instinct to protect herself, her heart. The humiliation she was ready to endure after baring her heart so completely to me, and the inner strength to allow it was impressive. What a woman! I thought.

I looked into her eyes and put all the sincerity I had in mine. I let her watch my face soften, I let my expression become filled with understanding and gentleness.

Her expression changed from sad acceptance to confusion. It was priceless! It made me feel more love in my heart for her than ever.

I slowly opened my lips to speak.

"Woman," I said, somewhat harshly, feeling suddenly aged, manly, and wise, "what possible thought could enter your pretty head to make you cry?" I was surprised and the dominant tone in my voice, but I just let my heart flow out of my mouth without allowing my brain to interfere. "Do you think for one minute, that I am fool enough not to see you for who you are? That I could resent you? Revile you? Cast you aside as just another foolish girl?"

Her mouth was hanging open, completely uncomprehending. Her body was so still, I was sure she wasn't breathing at all, though I could nearly hear her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

I continued. "You think you know me, and perhaps in many ways you do. But you misjudge me, lass, and for this I am truly sorry. You have searched for centuries waiting to find me and allowing your body to age, though I shall soon see if there are any ill effects..." I let the dark lust into my eyes that only a male can show. She was startled and actually blushed and a smile played at the edge of her lips. I thought perhaps she might be catching on, so I quickly continued. Somehow I knew if I played this out a bit more, she would treasure the memory long after I was gone...

"You, girl, are obviously confused about many things, but I will correct this for you over time. Lots of time. A very long time together, I am sure..." Relief like a wave of the ocean passed through her body, relaxing every muscle so that I had to take much of her small weight in my arm. But I held her chin firm so that she would see my face as I spoke every word I had to say.

"I am, and shall be, forever yours in heart, mind, and body," I said.

She crumbled against me, "Oh, Jeffrey..." she whispered with a shaking voice.

I held her and said, "Veronica, perhaps years from now, I will understand why I love you. For now, you will have to accept the fact that I do love you. I want to hold you. I will never leave you. You are mine now, as I am yours. You think that what I take from your aching breasts will bind me to you, perhaps it is so, but I bind you to me now, for as long as I live."

Her tears were flowing fully now, and she didn't move to wipe her eyes but rather just stood still, letting me see it. Her body shook silently and it was again completely soft against me. If I had ever seen eyes look at me with love in them before, I no longer thought so, for now was the truth of it. I could see that she would forever treat me tenderly, as I would her, and somehow I also knew she would kill a thousand thousand before she allowed harm to come to me; Wampyrie indeed.

"Now wipe your eyes girl, your blouse is wet enough already," I said, looking at her chest as I held her slightly away from me. She stood on her own and looked down at herself, blushing again as her hands wiped her face quickly and efficiently. Women had much more experience at wiping tears than men, I thought.

I took her hand and whisked her away toward the divan. "Come, let's take care of your aching chest, young lady," I said brashly, and she giggled and hurried to follow me.

When we reached the divan, I softly said, "Sit, Veronica." She looked at me with marvel in her eyes, and grinning, she sat primly. "Now, open your blouse and get those gorgeous breasts ready to give me every drop of their warm bounty. I am going to suckle you."

Without a word, she quickly began unbuttoning and pulling the blouse out of her skirt, opening it wide to bare her large round womanly charms, still encased in her now very wet lace bra. All the time her eyes were on my face, hoping for my pleased reaction. I gave her one of my best lusty smiles and she grinned happily.

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