by Zara Novak
He turned to walk out the room before turning back to her. “There are clothes for you in the box on the chaise lounge. There’s a hairdryer in the bathroom.”
Claire nodded. “Thank you. …Eric?”
Eric turned back to her.
“Yes?”
“What about anal?”
She twisted towel between her fingers, finally summoning the strength to look up at him.
Eric swallowed at something in his throat.
“W-what?”
“You said you can’t fuck me in my… you know. Pussy.”
Just hearing the word on her lips got him hard again.
“But I thought, what about anal? Would that be different?”
Eric’s eyebrows raised slowly, betraying his surprise.
Who in heaven is this girl? Lord behold me.
Eric took a grip of the doorway to steady himself.
“I-I suppose it could be a possibility.” The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. But he supposed it might work. He’d have to speak with Ira, he’d have to make sure it wouldn’t ruin the mating ritual. “I won’t be long. I promise.”
“Take your time.” She looked at him with lidded lust, sending another jolt of steel down his cock. “I’ll be here, waiting.”
3. Claire
Claire sat alone in Eric’s apartment like bedroom, sitting with her thoughts. The journey to the castle had been hellish. The actual sensation of flight itself was wonderful, but Eric had taken her so high into the sky and they had flown for so long, she was practically frozen by the time they had arrived at the Castle Belmont.
The Castle was another thing altogether. As they approached she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. At first there were only mountains, as they got deeper into the remote range, the first turrets sprung up from the dark hallows of the hearth. Endless columns of ancient stone, spires, turrets, small illuminated windows perched in the stone edifice like a thousand yellow eyes.
She had no idea that anything like that existed, let alone within such close distance of her home town. There was one peculiar thing that she had noted about the Castle, there had been no roads leading to or from it, and it was perched atop a mountain range that overlooked a valley. How on earth did anything get delivered here?
It was a beauty nonetheless. A strange and Gothic beauty, labyrinthine in nature, dark, twisted, mysterious. Claire fell in love with it instantly. By the time they landed, the cold had nearly consumed Claire and it was too much to bare. Shivering in Eric’s arms, his demeanor seemed to change immediately. She got the sense that it had been an honest mistake on his behalf, not some cruel torture that he had bestowed upon her with intent.
His regret was evident upon him carrying her inside immediately. “I am sorry. I will warm you immediately.”
She had no idea what his words had meant. Perhaps he would get a servant to light some medieval stone fire, a hearth that took up half the room, belting great waves of heat out onto all those that sat in front of it. The wicked part of her mind had hoped for something else. A four poster bed betwixt with intricate rosewood carvings up and down the four pillars. She would be on her back, legs spread, baring herself to him completely. He could be below her, loving her with his mouth again in that amazing way, before pulling his muscled torso up her body and moving himself inside of her.
Neither had been the case however, as they had rushed across the rooftop Claire stared in amazement as his dark expansive wings retreated into his body, folding away like black silk. She had no idea what sort of creature he was really. She had used to read vampire books when she was younger, and there were always so many different types between books. She had always had a strange fondness for the lore, but when her mother had caught her reading the books she dashed her for it, telling her that such books were principle literature for ‘Satan’ and that they wouldn’t be tolerated in the house of god. It was just one of the many luxuries that Claire had denied herself in her obstinately inherited faith. She had always been keen to please her mother with her ecclesiastical diligence, but it never seemed to make a difference. Her older sister Lisa, smarter, prettier, skinnier - she had always been the apple of her mother and father’s eye.
She didn’t want any part of her time here at Belmont to surprise her, and if it did, she didn’t want to betray it on her face. She would do everything that she could to get out of here, and she would do that by making sure Eric was on her side. She wouldn’t betray any fear, and she wouldn’t betray any horror, no matter how horrific things seemed. She knew that if she wanted to get out of here alive, she would have to gain Eric’s trust, and she would do that by making it seem as if she wanted to be here.
Still, watching the strange gargantuan wings disappear into his back behind him, as ghastly as the sight might have seemed to someone else, it almost had no negative effect on her, to her surprise. On the contrary, it only seemed to make Eric more mysterious to her.
His promise of warmth, came quickly, and he had carried her through the exquisite hallways of the castle, turning quickly on foot as she clung to him. Within minutes of them landing, he had placed her in a beautiful bronze tub, and filled it with hot water and delightfully fragrant soaps. Considering that Eric had painted her tenure here as slavery, this was not the start that Claire had anticipated. She had expected chains and dungeons. She had expected cold, pain, misery. When the tub had filled, and the heat had come back to her body, she had started putting her plan into action. She would try her very best to play along with Eric’s games, and she would act as if she was interested.
What surprised Claire the most however, was how good it felt. She hadn’t anticipated Eric would climb in the bath with her, but she was glad that he had. He had a way of bringing pleasure to her body, that she had never known before. The expert touch of his lips on her breast, the deft stroke of his broad and strong fingers on her sex. Every move he made was with slow and deliberate calculation, that only served to heighten her pleasure with every passing moment.
As much as she was convincing herself that she was simply playing along with the game, to gain some sort of advantage, it surprised her how much she was enjoying his touch. How much she longed for it when it parted. Even now, sitting on his bed alone in the large room, she had ample opportunity to make an escape, but she couldn’t stop drawing up images in her mind of how he’d made her feel. She felt a sense of shame wash over her again, a leftover from her faith, that all things pleasurable must be scorned and rejected. She didn’t want to reject any of this, as much as her mind knew she should. She was aware that back in the apartment, he had controlled her body and her mind somehow, making her want the things that she hadn’t. Everything that had happened in the bath however, that had been by her own admission. Claire kept telling herself that she was only playing the game, but even now, barely an hour in, the lines between what she wanted and what she was pretending to want, were quickly becoming blurred.
“Stop this.” She scorned herself, standing from the bed, pushing the thoughts of Eric out of her mind. She had to keep her mind focused, as much as she wanted the memories of his hands on her body to plague her mind. A shiver passed over her, and she thought it would be a good idea to get dressed.
She walked over to the chaise lounge, on which was the flat black gloss box that Eric had pointed out. She wondered what kind of clothes he had left for her. Upon opening the box, it seemed not very many.
Skimpy black lace lingerie looked up at her. Claire rolled her eyes, almost wanting to smile at the mischievous bastard. With no other option she slipped the lingerie on and grabbed a plush black robe from off the back of the bedroom door. Eric’s room was large and somewhat sprawling. The cold stone floors where covered with an assortment of expensive looking rugs. The walls were lined with dark and mesmerizing tapestries. On the longest wall of the room there was a long wooden bookshelf, which stretched from ceiling to floor. The shelves were full of ancient looking tomes, and Gothic Objet d’art. Skulls, taxidermy
, dozens of half melted candles. It all looked particularly cliche, but at the same time it fit together extremely well.
There was only one window in the room, another diamond crossed pane that was set into the stone itself. Claire stood on the balls of her feet, craning her neck to look over the window at the landscape below. Once again, her breath left her at the sight of the beautiful vista. She turned away from the window, quite happy that she had explored the room enough for now, and went into the bathroom to get the hairdryer.
Upon opening the door Claire let out a scream.
Immediately in front of her there was another bronze tub, much like the one her and Eric had been in just a little earlier. In the tub however, were the bodies of three dead blonde girls.
Her shrill scream filled the air of the room. Her brain told her to run, but her body refused to move, unable to look away from the horrific scene.
They had been stacked in the tub one on top another, and Claire could see from where she was standing that the bath was half filled with dark red blood, perfectly still under the flickering light of a candle above her. The girl on the very top barely fit in the crowded vessel, and her left arm was strewn over the edge, her head lolling over the bath top, her vacant eyes staring directly at the doorway.
Claire turned on her feet and bolted across the apartment, out into the hallway. The stagnant scene was but a grilling reminder that this man wasn’t human, he was a demon.
Her feet slapped down cold stone corridors, she couldn’t stop the image of the girls from coming back to her, their faces so devoid of color, their eyes so pale and lifeless. And they’d all been naked, as if he’d had his way with them and then drained them when their use was done. Is that what he’d do with her too?
Her breath raced as she fled through the dark hallways. She couldn’t believe she had been so naive to even begin to think of trusting him. Everything she had felt for him had been physical, and that was the end of it. She had fallen prey to his wicked black magic, but she wouldn’t fall prey to it again, because she was getting out of there.
She rounded a corner and with some relief found herself at the head of a long and winding staircase. She stepped onto the old floral stair runner and peered over the dark balustrades, eyes hopeful seeing that the stairs descended several flights below. Eric had been very specific to mention that she could move about the floor as she pleased, but not to venture into the lower parts of the castle. She hesitated for a moment, remembering his words, only for them to be replaced by the image of the three dead girls.
“No. He lies. He can’t be trusted.” She gripped the dark wood of the staircase and descended the steps as fast as her feet could take her. Whatever lay in the castle below, surely it couldn’t be any worse than the murderer with whom she was inhabited.
She flew down the stairs, all the while casting glances behind her, afraid she would see Eric standing there arms crossed, looking at her as if her escape attempt was nothing more than a mere infraction. She knew that if she didn’t get out of there, she would end up just the same as those girls. She knew that his words had been nothing but lies. She played their last conversation in his mind, as she descended deeper and deeper into the castle. He’d said he didn’t hunt, he said he’d never touch another’s flesh again. At the time she’d dared to believe it, but that was just the naivety of her post-coital brain. To think she’d even proffered the idea of anal intercourse with the man?
What was she thinking?
It was the part that Claire hated most about this whole ordeal. That even when she was acting with her own intention, she wasn’t acting like herself. She wasn’t the type of girl to fuck strange men in bath tubs, and offer them anal sex as an afterthought. Right now, running for her life, she had no idea why she’d even thought to offer such a thing. His effect on her had been so maddening at the time, that she’d wanted nothing more than just to feel him inside of her. No. Clearly it wasn’t her own intention that she was acting with, he was still bewitching her somehow, just another sign that he couldn’t be trusted and she had to leave.
Claire reached the bottom of the tall staircase, and glanced out of the first window she came across. To her disappointment she was still hundreds of meters up in the air. Peering over the lower sill of the window she could just make out the curling edifice of the Castle wall, swooping down toward the ground that was so very far away.
“Fuck!” She spat her frustration in a whisper, infuriated that the staircase couldn’t just get her down to the ground floor. Eric had mentioned earlier that they were on the ninth floor, and it had seemed that was at the top of the castle. She’d definitely just gone down more than nine flights. What in hell’s name was wrong with this place?
Suddenly, the sound of a door opening came from down the corridor. Claire glanced in terror in the direction of the noise. She was standing directly in the middle of the corridor, plain for all to see. She spun back to face the staircase from which she’d just descended. No, she wouldn’t go back to him. To go back now would mean certain death. She turned and ran down the corridor, in the opposite direction of the noise.
Large and sealed doors flanked her on both sides every couple of seconds. Up ahead she could see light from the right hand side of the passage. An open door, a room perhaps in which she could hide until it was clear for her to come out again.
As she approached the door she peered around it’s frame carefully and saw a large and open library. She looked into the room with rapidity, drawing her eyes from the sleeping globe that was by the door, to the broad and tall windows at the far end, which illuminated the entire room with a gentle pallor. The room seemed empty, she would have to take a chance.
Footsteps floated from the corridor behind her. Claire glanced back, knowing that whomever they belonged to would see her within a second if she didn’t move fast.
She darted into the library, closing both the doors behind her as gently as possible. It was only upon turning to face the room that she stood face to face with an impossibly tall and broad man, whom was smiling down on her wickedly.
“Eric?!”
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
He closed the distance between them completely with one stride, forcing Claire against the door as he did so. His smoothed the back of his hand down the right side of her face, his dark crimson eyes burning into her as he did.
“I was just exploring,” Claire whimpered, “I got lost. Please take me back to your room Eric.”
“Eric?” The vampire laughed. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for my brother. Speaking of which… you smell like him.” He leaned in, inhaling Claire, with no regard for her personal space whatsoever. “It’s foul. But I’ll get that scent off you soon. Don’t you worry.”
“I don’t understand.” Claire looked into the blood red eyes of the man she had thought was Eric. Staring closer, she realized it wasn’t him, but they looked almost identical. He had the same chiseled features, the same strong jawline. The hair was long and wild however, and his nose was slightly longer and more narrow. “If you’re not Eric, who are you?”
“Wraith.” He answered with an evil smile, brushing a finger over Claire’s lips.
Claire shook her head, terrified. Whatever this strange beast was, she got the sense that he was something much more worse than Eric altogether. A cold pit rose in her stomach, and she realized she was filled with utter dread.
“No…” She whispered, “…please.”
His hands were on her wrists, and he tore her from the door with inhuman strength. The sheer momentum of his force caused her feet to stumble across the floor. They carried her into the library until she crashed into a table, crumbling over it with a large grunt. He was behind her in a flash, moving with inhuman speed. The barbed sting of his crotch pushed against her legs, his hands smoothed over her robe. He tore the robe from her with one swift movement, revealing the lingerie underneath.
“Very nice.” His words sounded more like snarling tha
n anything else. Claire’s whole body trembled underneath her as the brute smoothed his hands over her flesh, pulling at the edges of her lingerie.
“You’re so very scared. Are you running from something? Was Eric hunting you?” Wraith laughed. “It’s not like Eric to hunt. Still… it’s not like him to keep slaves either. You’re a little larger than I like, but I guess you have a pretty face. I almost want to keep you for a while but…”
She felt his hands clutch around her panties, tearing them apart, exposing her to him completely. “It will annoy him so much more if I rape and kill you. That’ll teach him to let his pets run around like stray dogs.”
“No, please - no!” Claire stammered, her voice quivering, protesting, shaking. She knew it was no good.
She heard the sound of his trousers dropping and then felt a cold flat hand pushing her shoulder blades, forcing her down onto the table.
“Quiet.” He growled with a wicked whisper. “I’m having my playtime now.”
4. Eric
Eric sat, staring at Ira’s surgery idle eyed, as the doctor moved about the room like a sun drenched sloth. Ira had been a doctor in his early pre-vampire life, and he had kept his surgery in keeping of the late 1800’s. From the white tiles on the walls to the brusque and uncomfortable leather green stools in the waiting area. Next to the clinical shine of the stainless steel cart and the precise glass vials filled with dark red blood, the room looked at odds with itself.
Ira was the chief doctor for the Belmont family, as he had been for the past several hundred years. He was also the botanist, architect, painter, sartorialist… he was a man of many interests, and with the luxury of eternal life, he’d had plenty of time to indulge in them, filling his mind with an impressive expanse of knowledge, not just of things human, but things vampire too.
He was also of a class of vampires that now took time for granted, as he had all the time in the world to himself. He moved at a pace that was lackadaisical, reminiscent of a shadow crawling across a wide garden on a long summer afternoon.
