‘It’s strange that you’re thinking of penetrating me, isn’t it?’ Mel taunted. ‘It’s strange how you’re pretending to care for the purity of Tessa’s soul and, in reality, you’re thinking what it would have been like to see the pair of us sucking each other’s tits and licking each other’s pussies.’
I stared at Mel, horrified she could say something so slutty.
I didn’t know whether I was distraught that she had included me in the fantasy she painted for Alan, or aroused by the thought of the three of us playing together. It didn’t help that I could see the bulge swelling at the front of Alan’s trousers. The idea that this evening could turn into a threesome fuelled fresh warmth in my loins and offered the promise of a better outcome than their planned exorcism and execution. Considering I had been thrilled by a constant buzz of arousal since Mel turned me into a vampire, I had to admit that such a development was a potentially pleasing prospect. I glanced warily at Alan, trying to decide if there was the hope of such naughtiness behind his respectable façade.
He held a black leather switch and it was raised – as though he was ready to strike.
It looked like a short riding crop and the thought of him hitting me with the weapon was not wholly unappealing. But the perversity of the situation, and my easy acceptance of it, made me wonder what had happened to my sense of propriety. I was excited, aroused and beyond caring about whether my responses were right or wrong. All I craved was satisfaction and I believed, if he had any interest in me, Alan would be more than capable of fulfilling my needs. Yet I had never been so uninhibited before I became a vampire.
As I pondered those thoughts, the idea of a mild spanking from the riding crop became steadily more attractive. I held my breath and waited for Alan to slash the switch down against my bare body. The prospect inspired a rush of fluid warmth between my thighs.
‘You’d love to watch me with another woman,’ Mel told Alan.
His cheeks reddened
She shifted her hand from my breast. The moment’s relief I experienced was only fleeting. Her fingers brushed over my stomach and then she touched my sex. She combed her nails through the dense, dark curls that covered my labia and slid her index finger against the split of my pussy.
I chewed my lower lip as I struggled to contain my reaction. A thrill of molten pleasure seeped from my loins. I snatched a desperate breath and realised a rush of arousal was building in the pit of my stomach. Wild with excitement I glared from Alan to Mel and wished one of them would do more than merely tease.
‘You’d have called me Satan’s spawn if you’d seen me licking Tessa’s pussy,’ Mel told him. Her voice was low, the whisper of a penitent’s prayer echoing softly from the church’s walls. ‘I got my tongue so deep inside her she came really hard in my mouth.’
Her fingers continued to glide in and out of my sex. The sensation was delicious and, with my eyes closed, I was able to pretend I wasn’t really being exorcised on a church altar. I could almost ignore the burning weight of the crucifix that pressed against my chest and lose myself in the pleasure of being taken to climax.
‘You really are the most godless little slut,’ Alan told Mel.
I heard their conversation as though it came from the faraway end of a long tunnel. The meaning of the words began to lose its focus and I realised I was slipping toward a roar of satisfaction.
‘That’s what you love best about me, isn’t it?’ Mel laughed.
Even with my eyes closed I could hear the beaming grin in her voice.
‘I don’t love anything about you,’ he snarled. ‘You’re Satan’s spawn. You’re the most godless of the ungodly. You’re a demonic harlot from Beelzebub’s bawdiest brothel.’
Mel giggled. ‘Are you trying to get me horny with this dirty talk? Because it’s working…’
I could hear them.
But I wasn’t listening.
Mel worked her fingers more swiftly and I swam on a rising wave of bliss. Their chatter was an erotic background to the pleasure I was receiving. My pussy slurped wetly around her hand. The mounting waves roared inside me, growing higher with every breath and urging me to a climactic release.
‘Do you want to watch me kiss her?’ Mel suggested. ‘Would that make you admit that I excite you? Would that make you admit that you genuinely want me?’
I turned my head toward her, hoping she would do as she threatened. The idea of us kissing in this situation hadn’t crossed my mind until she said the words. But, as soon as she had spoken, I suddenly craved to have her lips against mine.
The pain of the cross on my chest was an agony.
The pleasure of having her fingers slip into my sex was unbearable.
The combination of those two extremes left me dizzy and bewildered and I could feel myself nearing an orgasm. The subtle stimulation of Mel’s lips against mine, and our tongues tasting each other would have been enough to take me beyond the brink of release.
Alan slashed the riding crop against my right breast.
The pain was meteoric.
I turned to glare at him, astounded he had struck me and not sure whether the blow had taken me to an extreme of agony or ecstasy. He didn’t spare me anything more than a pitying glance before slapping the crop down again and scoring my left breast with the second strike.
The strip of leather bit sharp against my nipple.
Surprised, hurt, and unprepared for such punishment, I howled.
My cry echoed around the church. It resounded from the high-domed ceiling and came back to me from the pews as an eerie and disembodied wail. I gasped for breath, struggling to sit up so I could try to stop him.
But the bondage held me tight.
The jeans still kept my ankles against the altar and the crucifix continued to weigh against my chest. Mel’s fingers gripped tight against my wrists as I increased my struggles and Alan sliced me sharply with two more blows from the crop.
This time I shrieked.
If Mel hadn’t been holding my wrists I would have found the strength to pull away from the altar. Because she kept her hands tight against me I had no opportunity to escape. I could only lie beneath the pair and endure Alan’s sadistic torment as he repeatedly whipped the switch against my breasts. He aimed for my nipples and his accuracy was hatefully precise.
Both hard buds of flesh stood rigid and throbbed like beacons.
The redness of my skin was a testament to the viciousness of each strike. The pleasure I enjoyed told me I had become a creature governed only by base responses to the cruellest treatment. Admittedly Mel had teased me to a point of desperate need. And her fingers continued to slide in and out of my pussy with frenzied haste as Alan whipped me. But it was the agony of being punished that urged me toward the thrill of my climax.
‘Satan be gone,’ Alan roared.
He slapped the switch down again.
I screamed.
The pain was severe. The threat of the orgasm swelled swiftly between my legs. I knew it would only take another couple of blows and the euphoric thrill would flood from my body. I held my breath, bracing myself for the impact and praying it would give the satisfaction I craved.
‘Satan be gone,’ he bellowed.
I writhed against the bondage. I had no way of knowing if my agonies came from the simple blend of pleasure and pain, or if his incantations had started to force some demonic spirit from my body. The only thing I knew for certain was that I was enjoying an anguish of delight.
‘Pass me that bottle, harlot,’ Alan growled.
He held out a hand and snapped his fingers impatiently.
Mel laughed gaily. The sound was the antithesis of the tortured agony I was enduring. ‘I love it when you call me harlot,’ she confided. ‘It gets me all wet and hot.’
Through the haze that shrouded my vision I saw him snatch something from her hand. He had discarded the switch and I quietly groaned at the thought that he had stopped his cruel discipline. The need to feel more discomfort, and have th
ose bright sensations push me to the brink of orgasm, had become a feverish craving.
‘Do you want to know how hot you’ve made me?’ Mel asked Alan.
‘You’re the most despicable temptress.’
‘Does that mean I’m tempting you, sweetie?’
I writhed beneath them, hating their conversation and wishing they would concentrate on me rather than each other. Before I could open my mouth to complain, I realised Alan was glaring down at me. When I saw the lack of compassion in his eyes, I began to wish he and Mel would carry on talking for a little while longer.
‘Satan be gone!’ he declared.
He doused me with a fistful of water from the bottle. The droplets splashed lightly against my bare breasts and stomach, shocking me with their chill. I gasped, surprised by the childishness of being sprayed with water.
And then I understood he had sprinkled me with holy water.
The icy water turned to steam and boiled against my skin.
The pain was intense, absolute: and darkly exciting. I tried to wriggle away from the agony but every movement I made exacerbated the thrill of my ordeal. Sweat speckled my brow and the fluid heat between my legs felt ready to explode.
Alan resumed his Latin chant. Mel graced me with an apologetic grin, then turned her adoring gaze back to her beloved. I watched their activities through a haze of agonised ecstasy. Screaming was beyond my capabilities. I could only writhe as the smoke spiralled up from my chest and the holy water sizzled against my flesh.
‘Hold her still, harlot.’
‘I do love it when you call me harlot.’
‘You’ve told me that.’
‘It makes me wet.’
‘You’ve told me that too, you despicable wench. Now just do as I asked and stop trying to flaunt your foul and demonic sexuality at me.’
Mel smiled fondly at him and then glanced down at me. ‘Isn’t he commanding?’
I couldn’t find words to answer. My chest was ablaze and the torment had finally proved too much. The orgasm came in a rush as scalding as the holy water that seared my skin. My back arched and I briefly pulled myself away from the altar. The wooden crucifix fell from my chest and landed heavily on the floor of the chancel.
Waves of agonising delight pounded my senses.
The wet explosion between my legs was powerful enough to shake my entire body. My scream of delight turned into a roar of horror as I saw Alan was about to slam the wooden stake into my chest.
Mel graced me with an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry about this, sweetie,’ she grinned. ‘But it’s a sacrifice in the service of true love: so I’m sure you understand.’
With my heightened awareness, I understood that she didn’t like the idea of my being slain by Alan, but it was a necessary price to be paid in her quest to win a place in the heart of the man she loved. Although she didn’t say any more, I knew she was genuinely sorry.
Alan thrust the stake into my shoulder.
I didn’t know whether to be delighted he had missed his target, or appalled that the evening’s pleasure had ended with such a rush of bland discomfort. I could see that my role in their game had now come to an end and I managed to pull my feet from the jeans as I tumbled from the altar.
I landed on the floor of the chancel with a heavy thud.
‘That’s her done,’ Alan snarled. ‘Now it’s your turn, harlot.’
I glanced up at the pair, wondering if now was the time for me to forge an escape. When I saw Alan slap a pair of cuffs on Mel’s wrists, I puzzled to make sense of what was happening.
‘Kinky, sweetie,’ she grinned. She admired the steel cuffs and tested their resistance. They held firm. ‘This has overtones of sadomasochism. I thought it would take a while before we got to that level.’ Her smile was broad and she licked her lips seductively. ‘Are you going to punish me for being a bad girl?’
Alan’s features were as solemn as the crucified Christ figure leering over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry I have to do this,’ he mumbled. ‘Truly sorry.’ Turning away from her, blushing as he glanced into the shadows near the pulpit, he called, ‘The harlot is ready for you, brothers. You may come and take her. Do with her what you must.’
I stared at Mel, trying to work out if this was a part of her game.
Her attention was fixed on Alan and she was clearly unhappy with this development. When she did shift her gaze it moved up to glance at the three hooded men climbing out of the shadows and bearing down on her. Each was dressed in a long, dark cloak. Hoods concealed their faces but I could make out that all, save for one of them, wore pectoral crucifixes and carried wooden stakes. On the breast of each cloak was an emblem composed of three overlaid letters: LVH.
‘Brother,’ the first said, genuflecting stiffly for Alan’s benefit.
The gaping black hole, where his face should have been, turned to stare in Mel’s direction. I was thankful he wasn’t looking at me because his appearance was disturbingly reminiscent of the Grim Reaper.
‘You’ve done a good job, Brother,’ the second muttered.
The third reached out of the darkness and grabbed Mel by the arm.
She whimpered and tried to pull herself away from him. ‘Alan?’ she gasped. ‘What is this? What’s happening? Who are these men?’ As she asked the final question, I got the impression that she already knew all the answers: she simply didn’t want to accept the truth. ‘Alan?’ she repeated. ‘Who are these men? What’s happening? What’s going on?’
Alan wouldn’t meet her eyes. He stared into the darkened depths of the church. ‘These men are from the legion of vampire hunters,’ he replied. ‘They’ve come to take you away.’
Mel groaned.
‘When you said you’d be coming here this evening, I notified them that you were on your way. I told them they should come and take you out of society.’ He mumbled the words as though he was either ashamed or embarrassed – it was impossible to tell which. ‘The fact that you’d sired that poor creature,’ he nodded in my direction, ‘is proof that I made the right decision.’
Mel glared at him through eyes that were glassy with tears. ‘Tell me you didn’t really hand me over to these bastards,’ she wailed. ‘Please, Alan. Sweetie!’ She sounded close to tears of desperation. ‘Please tell me you didn’t really hand me over to the legion of damned vampire hunters.’
‘It’s for the best,’ Alan said simply.
This time, Mel shrieked with misery. The man holding her shoulder tugged at her, forcing her to take a step in his direction. The second vampire hunter joined him and rested his gloved hands on Mel’s other arm. The heavy coats and large builds made the hunters look like formidable enemies.
‘You’re a demon and a danger to society,’ Alan said sadly.
‘And you’re not my boyfriend anymore,’ Mel called back. Her voice was rich with the threat of tears. She looked like she was set to say more but the vampire hunters were strong and two of them led her swiftly down the aisle toward the main exit.
Mel kept snatching her gaze back to fix Alan with a glare that blended anger, hurt and disapproval. But ferocious looks were the worst things she could hurl at him.
‘We shall return for this one,’ the remaining vampire hunter told Alan. He pointed at me as he said the words and I shrank from the idea that I was also going to be dragged away by such intimidating figures.
Alan nodded but said nothing.
He stayed silent as the hunters led Mel out of the church.
And it was only after the last of them had left the church that I found my voice. I fixed him with a pitying scowl and said, ‘That was a harsh thing to do to a woman who loves you.’
He fixed me with a disapproving gaze. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what she was capable of.’
‘She was capable of loving you,’ I snapped bitterly. I pulled myself from the floor and wrenched the stake from my shoulder. It was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. The hole it had made healed as I watched. T
he phenomenon looked so cool I found myself grinning with delight. I silently wished Mel could have been by my side to watch the unreal healing process.
‘She was a vampire,’ Alan sneered.
His words reminded me why Mel wasn’t by my side admiring the way the puncture wound disappeared. My thoughts snapped back to the immediate problems that faced me.
‘She was a vampire: and vampires are incapable of love.’ He shook his head, as though angrily dismissing the topic, and said, ‘Besides, whether she could feel love or not is immaterial. The legion is dealing with her now and her fate has been sealed.’
‘No,’ I said quietly. I fixed him with an expression of soft determination and added, ‘No one’s fate is sealed so easily.’
Even though Mel had tried to have me exorcised – and she had secured me to an altar so her boyfriend could plunge a stake into my heart – I realised it was my duty as a friend to save her from the legion of vampire hunters.
Chapter Seven
‘Tessa Cameron!’ the Judge bellowed.
Tessa glanced up and stared at him. She hoped her expression conveyed innocence but there was something about the atmosphere of the court that made her feel she was being tried for every sin she had ever committed. If that had really been the case, Tessa knew such judgement would invariably find her guilty.
‘The question was: How do you plead?’ the judge started impatiently. ‘Your answer should be guilty or not guilty, not the lengthy and rather pointless preamble with which you’ve just regaled us. Hasn’t your defence counsellor told you this?’
‘I don’t have a defence counsellor.’
A redhead appeared from the shadows. She was dressed in the dark and flowing robes of the council’s legal representatives and held herself with a statuesque poise that was daunting. With her hands on her hips, and her ample chest thrust out before her, she looked as though she had command of the courtroom and all its occupants. ‘I’m acting on behalf of the defendant, darling,’ she told the judge.
Tessa groaned. ‘Please, Christine. I can manage without your help.’
Christine continued to address the judge, waving Tessa silent and ignoring her pleas to be heard. She kept her gaze fixed on the shadows of the benches and said, ‘If you can call a short recess, I’ll advise my client on the best way for her to proceed.’
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