Vampire fantasy

It was dark. My vampire eyes, however, could see better in such darkness than in daylight. I wore only black trousers and a cloak, black on the outside, purple on the inside, tied at the neck with a string. The old walls of the castle's dungeons evoked dark secrets hidden somewhere deep in the abyss of the past. Before me lay a great brass gate. This was the boundary beyond which the cursed kingdom began. There lay the temple of power, the temple of blood, the temple of desire.

It was nearly eleven. When the clock stopped striking, that unholy hour would begin. The hour of "preparation." This was the time of the ritual, intended to bring the victim to a state where, at this special, magical moment, they would be called to a new life, to eternal life, albeit a cursed one, to becoming a vampire.

I had waited so long for this one woman—a woman who would willingly surrender herself to my infernal power, a woman who would become my sacrifice and then rule this cursed world with me. And finally, I had captured her. She was there, beyond those gates.

In the black sky, the great magical moon—the prince of darkness—outshone its servants, the stars with their cold, penetrating light. He was at the height of his power. And on this one night of the month, at the full moon, at its peak in the sky, meaning midnight, she was to become mine.

The time had come. The mighty gate opened its doors. I entered a small hall. It was perhaps ten by ten meters. Mystical candles and torches burned along the walls. To the left of the entrance stood a large fireplace, in which a fire burned, warming the entire room. The hiss of burning logs filled the silence of the room. Some distance from the fireplace stood a large black leather armchair. Beside it, on a small table, lay various items necessary for the ceremony. The floor was covered with a purple carpet that led from the gate to the center of the hall, where the altar was—a three-meter-wide stone wall dividing the hall into two halves, to which she was chained.

She stood facing the wall, on a small, semicircular, snow-white rug. Her hands were chained to the stone altar, spread out to the sides, slightly upwards, leaving her little freedom of movement. Her eyes were covered by a black sash. A narrow leather collar adorned her neck, with metal rings for the chain's clasp. Her entire body was covered only by a black, diaphanous petticoat with thin straps, reaching mid-thigh. Beyond that, she wore nothing else. She stood less than half a meter from the wall. Her head was bowed in expectation. Her long black hair fell down her back.

I stepped closer to her. She sensed it, lifted her head, and turned, but she couldn't see me through the sash. I touched her thigh. She flinched at my touch. I slowly moved my fingers up, lifting her petticoat to her hip, then to her waist, revealing her rounded buttocks. With my other hand, I caressed her ear, moving lower, to her neck and shoulders. I felt a shiver of excitement run through her body. She tilted her head back, gently tickling me with her black hair. I buried my fingers in her velvety black hair. I gripped it tightly. She squealed when I tugged, tilting her head. I touched her lips with my tongue. She wanted to kiss me, but I had already let go. I watched as she tried for a moment to break free and turn around. I admired her shapely body for several minutes. She was clearly nervous. She didn't know what would happen next, why I wasn't touching her. And she wanted it—it was obvious. She wanted to be touched and caressed.

On the table near the altar lay all the necessary tools. I poured a glass of red wine. I tasted it; it was so delicious, dry, with a deep flavor and aroma, as if with a hint of cinnamon. Beside it stood a bucket of ice, and inside was a sharp, six-inch knife. I took it and tested the blade—it was icy. I touched the cold surface to her cheek. She recoiled.

"Don't move," I said.

I ran the tip of the knife along her left arm, then, holding it with my other hand, I slit the strap of her petticoat. She stirred, the knife scratching her skin, she screamed, and backed away violently against the wall.

"I told you not to move!" I scolded her.

She was slightly frightened. A thin trickle of blood trickled down her arm and back. I sucked on the wound. It tasted very sweet. Yeah... That was very nice, but that was only the beginning.

I cut the second strap—this time, it didn't budge. The slip slowly slid down, pausing briefly at her breasts and hips, but her movements caused it to fall completely onto the white rug. I took the wine glass in my left hand and walked over to her. With my right hand, I grabbed her hair again. This time, she didn't make a sound. An amazing girl. She hadn't said a word either. Good thing, words weren't necessary. I tilted her head back slightly and put the glass to her lips. She drank a little, but some of the wine spilled out, running down her neck onto her collar, then onto her breasts, stomach, and between her legs onto her pubic hair—she had very close-cropped black hair—and then down her inner thighs, down to the white rug, where blood-red stains remained.

I threw the glass away—it shattered somewhere farther away on the floor. I pulled her hair harder, tilting her back, then pressed her lips to my lips and kissed her. I felt the tension melt away. She'd been waiting for this, giving herself over to this kiss with all her soul. Her tongue pressed between my lips, between my teeth, and I let her play with it. She kissed my lips, sucked them, bit lightly, until at one point I felt her bite my lip, drawing blood. I pulled away—I saw a smile of satisfaction on her face. She tasted my blood. I

was furious, but at the same time happy and aroused—she was the perfect girl. She was a vampire like no other. She was beautiful, devilish in appearance, and, as you can see, devilish in character. Even physical enslavement couldn't shake her desire to dominate. I loved it, I loved domineering women perhaps even more than women chained to the wall and at my mercy. In the future, she would be my Mistress, I would do anything for her, she would have complete power over me, but tonight I was the Master and she was at my mercy, so I couldn't forgive her this insult.

I grabbed a leather whip with straps from the table. I walked up to her and struck her on the buttocks. The pain wasn't sharp, but it was unexpected. She screamed and clung to the wall. Her breasts flattened against the cold stone. I struck her again—harder, and again, and again.

"This is for your impatience and audacity," I said.

She screamed, and tears streamed down her cheeks. But pride wouldn't let me ask her to stop. There were red marks on her buttocks from the lashes of the straps. They must still be sore. I knelt behind her and kissed her buttocks. I began to lick them. I stroked her legs as I did so—her knees, her thighs. The scent of her arousal mingled with the wine. She spread her legs. I ran my fingers up her thighs, touching her wet hair. I felt the arousal replace the pain with redoubled intensity. She was wet, and not just from the wine. Those strokes must have aroused her even more. When I inserted a finger into her warm womanhood, she shuddered. But it was still too soon.

I stood up and went to the table. I poured myself a second glass of wine and sat in the armchair. I watched her. She was clearly impatient. After those sensation-rich twenty minutes, the lack of caresses or pain was clearly irritating her. She wanted me to tend to her, but I only admired her catlike movements as she tried to wriggle away, trying to get my attention. She would tilt her head back, her hair flowing freely, falling down her back as she straightened. She stuck out her tongue, licked her lips, pressed her beautiful breasts against the wall, rubbing them against the stones. She was exciting me, but it was still too early to move her to the other side of the room.

The clock struck half an hour to midnight. The time was approaching. I stood up and went to the table. I grabbed a special harness. It was a truly devilish device. It consisted of two chains, joined at one end to form a single chain, with a clasp that could be used to attach it to a handle. On the other end, both chains had special clasps. I approached her. She heard this and froze, waiting for what would happen next. I threaded the single chain through the ring of her collar and attached it to the handle. The clasps were attached to her breasts. They were quite intricate, fastening like small nipple clamps. On the side of each clasp, on all four sides, were sharp, four-centimeter-long claws that gripped the breasts once the clasp was in place. Strapping her in was painful in itself, and pulling the chain caused even more agony. But worst of all, when I pulled the chain, the claws closed on her breasts and dug in from all four sides. They weren't very sharp, so they wouldn't normally cut the skin, but if you pulled the chain hard and hard, it was inevitable.

When I fastened this torture device to her, I didn't have to explain its operation. I just tugged lightly on the chain—her quiet "ah" proved she understood how it worked. The fastening itself only hurt after a while—the longer it lasted, the more painful it was, but each pull brought excruciating pain.

"Be good, it'll hurt less," I said.

Holding the chain handle with one hand, I unclasped her hands from the shackles that held them to the wall. She purred with relief, as holding them up for long periods of time was tiring. I tugged lightly on the chain, forcing her to turn to face me. She was divine.

Black clasps with claws like tentacles embraced her magnificent white breasts. Her lips were slightly parted, and she stood erect—her slender figure reflected against the dark wall. I admired for a moment her exquisite curves, her waist, hips, and long legs, her beautifully groomed triangle of hair. She was truly very pretty, and in my eyes, she was simply a goddess. I desired her with all my body and soul. The time was slowly approaching when she would be mine, and I hers, forever.

"Behind me," I said curtly.

I led her, gently tugging on the chain, to the other side of the room. With each tug, she hissed slightly in pain or simply grimaced. The tension was palpable on her—the clasps were already starting to make themselves felt even without me pulling, and yet barely five minutes had passed. On the other side of the room, against the wall, in the center, stood a large black bed. In the heads, a forged iron ornament depicting a full moon. On all four corners of the bed were posts with metal rings attached, and candles were burning on them. On the bed lay purple bedding, or rather, just a large, soft duvet covering the entire surface. Around it lay a snow-white rug, identical to the one on the other side of the wall. Nearby stood a table similar to the previous one. On it, too, were various objects. Two torches were placed in the stone wall above the bed.

We walked to the edge of the bed. I pushed her gently – she sat on it, but she grabbed my hand as she did so and began to stroke it, then kiss it. I allowed her to caress it, as it pleased me too, but it wasn't enough for her. She quickly moved her hand to my waist and slipped it under my pants.

"Not yet," I scolded her.

But she didn't stop, in fact, she went even further. It was too much. I tugged violently on the chain. She jumped off the bed and fell to her knees, screaming in pain as she did so, and the scarf became damp with tears again. It must have really hurt. One of the claws cut the skin, and a drop of blood appeared where it touched her breast. The tug wasn't so hard, however, as only one wound appeared. It was enough, however, for my dearest victim to fall to her knees in pain and instinctively clutch her breasts. Trying to rip off the painful clasps only caused another wave of pain, so she let go and sobbed helplessly, pressing her face against my leg.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly between sobs.

I let her breathe in that position for two minutes, then told her to lie on the bed, on her back, spread her legs and arms wide so I could tie them to the posts in the corners. I unhooked the chain from my handle and pinned it to the wall above her head. It wasn't tight, so it didn't hurt, although the clasps were certainly getting in her way, and besides, it was always easy to pull, and she knew it.

The hour was slowly approaching, so it was time to prepare her. I stripped off all my clothes and sat down beside her. I began to gently stroke her cheeks, her lips, which she opened each time to lick my finger. Then her neck and the area around her breasts. I stroked her stomach, lower abdomen, and thighs. And when I noticed that the pleasure was beginning to outweigh the pain caused by the clasps, I knelt between her legs and, continuing to touch her body with my fingers, began to lick her. At first gently, then more and more hungrily, I licked between her legs, my tongue reaching every nook and cranny. Then I focused on one point—the one that gives women the most pleasure. After five minutes, I felt the pleasure spread throughout her body.

Now it was time for a short break, and the most important part of the ceremony would begin. I walked over to the table, grabbed two large ice cubes, and placed one between her breasts, while the other touched her pubic mound, moving lower and lower. I saw her begin to tremble, as if the icy cold were further awakening her feverish body. I took a lit candle from the table, knelt between her legs, and it began.

"Are you a woman who came here of your own free will?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Do you of your own free will consent to the pain that awaits you?

" "Yes.

" "Do you promise loyalty and devotion to your Lord—meaning me?

" "Yes," I heard again, though her voice trembled.

"Then you shall be mine!"

Then I tilted the candle so that the wax began to drip onto her belly. With the first drop, she began to scream. Each subsequent drop drew more screams from her. She tried to struggle, but it was useless, for she was securely tied, and when she moved, the clasps hurt more. After a few pointless attempts, she lay still. She had also become accustomed to the pain of the wax. I had already drawn almost the entire magical pattern in wax – a circle around the navel, representing the moon with an arrow, from the tip of which a drop of blood dripped, representing the vampire's fangs. Two stars were still missing. But for that, I had to remove the clasps. I told her this – she breathed a sigh of relief; they were clearly bothering her, and she didn't realize that this was the moment when the pain was at its worst. I removed both at once. She screamed, and tears must have welled up in her eyes, because the blindfold was once again completely wet. She arched her body so that the bonds dug into her arms and legs. When I tilted the candle again to complete the sign, I knew the pain I was causing her was only further arousing her.

I removed her blindfold. She had to answer the last question, looking into my eyes. She looked at me through her tears. I began licking her again. I did this until her breathing became very rapid, then I entered her. Her womanhood was wet, my face too. I kissed her red and tortured breasts, lightly biting her nipples – now she was enjoying it immensely. She writhed with pleasure, and my arousal was reaching its zenith. The time had come. The clock began to strike midnight. So I asked one last question, looking intently into her eyes.

"Do you want to become a vampire and be my slave and Mistress forever?" She looked into my eyes, smiled, and said,

"Yes, I do – be mine forever.

" "Then let it be. Bite me when the moment comes," I replied, and offered her my left forearm.

She closed her teeth on it. I closed my fangs on her forearm, but I didn't break the skin yet. Our movements became faster and faster, and a wind filled the room—a magical wind. When the moment arrived, I felt her trying to bite my hand. Then I bit her, and the fire in the fireplace burst into a huge flame. Sparks flew from the candles and torches, and the bed began to rise. I tasted the sweet taste of her blood, and as I climaxed and my seed filled her, I felt her transforming fangs pierce my skin. I heard a crack as a powerful wave spread from the bed across the room, sweeping everything in its path.

All the candles and torches extinguished, and the bonds on her arms and legs broke. We were one now. Bliss spread over us, mingling with the pain of the bite wounds. Our bloody lips joined in an eternal kiss. From then on, she was mine, and I was hers. Forever. She was a vampire, just like me.