Eternal Bondage

by Vita Anne Hoffman

  For a very few bleary-eyed seconds, I saw the crown of his beautiful coal black hair rise and fall over me. Then conscious thought deserted me. I thrashed my head back and fourth against my pillow. My hands clawed deeper into the rose comforter. A delirious, tormented smile twisted my mouth. My breath grew agitated, raspy. And while Constantine steadily ate me out, I jerked and twisted and writhed. The pleasured sounds I made, moans and hums and shuddering sighs, became frantic. My body needed to peak! My pelvis pumped up to demand more from Constantine's mouth, but he quietly laughed and splayed a hand on my stomach to press me back onto the mattress.

  "WAIT. Don't come, yet. I dictate the pace. Remember?” He looked up at me from his licentious nest between my legs. His vampiric order lessened, just a tad, the swollen-to-near-bursting ache in my pussy. Still holding my bleary gaze, he leaned close to my mound.

  "I should make you wait all night.... “But, instead, Constantine dipped his head again to me and wholeheartedly toiled on my behalf. Pulling my puffed up lips apart, he buzzed and fluttered his tongue everywhere, fast and furious. He swiped at my clit, rasped my wet flesh, spiked my need for release to an unbearable height.

  "Oh, oh, oh.... “Unbelievably pleasured, I almost screamed the G-word! The name of my deity! God almighty! I stifled that impulse, once more fortified with Constantine's hypnotic suggestion. As he speeded up and stimulated me faster, nastier, my groans went to yelps, the yelps to cries—a building, mind-numbing crescendo—then I clenched and spasmed and climaxed, grimacing in utter abandon, willing Constantine to prolong the feeling with more stroking and rubbing. Which he did, forcing the shuddering ecstasy to repeat and repeat and repeat.

  Then, he let me come down. The throbbing eased. Constantine crawled to my side. He threw his right leg and right arm across me. His face was so close to mine that his coal black hair mingled with my dirty blonde mass. Coherent thought returned to me, and I had to marvel at his self-control. Not once had he tried to gratify himself, not sexually nor arterially. And during the encounter, he had wanted both. Intensely.

  Reclining, half draped over me, he seemed calm, but I could feel that he was still erect. I was almost too tired to care. But I wasn't that selfish, even if the SOB had tried to trick me into having intercourse with him. In the end, he had lost and I had won. And I did owe him some thanks for three tidal-wave-like orgasms. So, without speaking, without considering that I had never ever thought about much less given a man a hand-job, I unzipped his trousers. Surprise, surprise! He wore no briefs. He practically sprang into my hand, large, well-formed, mouth-watering. He was incredibly thick and pleasingly long, as I had learned on that earlier occasion in his penthouse lair when he had forced me to fist him. He was, indeed, Constantine, The Great. The hot, silken feel of him made me pulse wetly.

  Still unaccountably aggressive, I shimmied down his prone body to better admire his superb cock. My fingers readjusted their grip upon his width, almost unable to fully clasp him. Directed by some inner demon, I bent down and rubbed the flared cap against one of my cheeks, then the other, and lastly waggled it against my chinny, chin, chin. He twitched, not just his cock, but his entire tight sculpted midsection. I overcame the urge to roll him into my mouth. Instead, I positioned my mouth near his tip and I drooled long warm strands upon him.

  "For lubrication,” I murmured, pulling back from his shaft.

  It was now Constantine's turn to groan wordlessly. He wrapped his own hand around mine, and guided me from the base of his engorged penis to the head. He tried to sustain his own ecstasy, tantric-like, but was unable, especially since I cupped and tickled his balls in revenge for all his earlier sexual torment of me. His entire body stiffened with passion. His groin thrust once powerfully. Our coupled hands traveled only twice up and down his shaft before he ejaculated, an explosion of semen that sprayed warmly over me and the bedclothes in a strangely iridescent geyser. What a waste! He shuddered, making one extended groan of pleasure before releasing my hold upon him.

  "Thank you, my love.” He drew me even nearer and kissed me full on the mouth, but he made no move to leave. “I want to stay here as long as I can, as close to sunrise as possible."

  He definitely wasn't an ordinary lover. He actually wanted to stay and hold me. So, naturally, I let him.

  Some time later, when I was nearly asleep, I knew Constantine was rousing, pulling away from me. He sensed dawn, and, through him, so did I. He lay staring at the dream catchers suspended from the ceiling. Their power was unmistakable as we spooned side-by-side. They were a barrier, to my dreams, my emotions, my psychic self.

  "Those most be removed.” He allowed me no time to answer. Indeed, he expected that I would do as I was bid. “I must depart soon.” I could see his unhappy expression. Then, his next thought made him grin. Joy lit his beautiful face. His fangs gleamed. “But I shall be back tonight."

  I breathlessly repeated the word. “Tonight.... “My body gleefully wanted to agree, anticipating another bedroom romp. Tonight, and every night thereafter. My mind, however, was confused at how readily I was about to agree ... when I had specifically set the ground rules. Constantine could only enter my home THE ONE TIME. Nor would we engage in penetrative sex! I was certain, in this unique instance, with me if with no other human, this was binding upon Constantine. My voice was very shaky. “You can't come back.... “My insides burned with disappointment.

  "I forget how strong you are.” His tremendous mouth, which I literally couldn't keep myself from imagining doing any number of explicit activities, twisted petulantly. “Even last night you wouldn't give in and beg me to take you.” Although you came very close. His harsh thoughts burned into my mind. “But it won't be long now.” His brilliant blue eyes seemed icier than ever.

  "I won't let you back in."

  He laughed, then suggestively drew a line across my chest, not even touching my breasts, and I reacted like the proverbial dog-in-heat, panting and ready, fighting the urge to grab his hand and guide it to my crotch.

  "Yes. You will,” he predicted.

  I feared he was right. I suddenly felt like I couldn't get enough of him. I sat upright, and tucked my legs protectively underneath me. “What have you done to me?"

  "Nothing. I've simply taken advantage of a small bit of corruption within you.” He dazzled me with his most seductive vampire smile and my insides melted. “It is just part of my magnetism. Someone should have warned you. Most humans become sexually addicted to vampires. That includes even you, Miss Soulsmith. Otherwise, do you think you would have invited me in? Our every encounter has precipitated this. And many more shall follow."

  I tightly shut my eyes, wiping his smug face from my sight. “Only once. I only allowed you to enter once.” I was now screaming. “Go away! Don't ever return! Get out, you monster!"

  Look at me. I had to obey. He was now standing by the window, a well-built gorgeously-muscled shadow against the white curtains. “Soon, my love, you will scream while writhing underneath me.” To punctuate his words, he loudly, lasciviously re-zipped his trousers. “I am, as they say, in your blood. Soon, we shall share that, too."

  And the son-of-a-bitch fairly shimmered, as he turned and vanished out the long-paned French-styled window. “I hope you get caught in the sun!” Venting my rage did not help. I was in big trouble. I could feel the onset of vampire withdrawals. I had the shakes. I wanted to fornicate. Hopefully, a cold shower would help.

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  Chapter Eighteen

  Dusk, And Vampires Were Stirring

  It was the morning after, and I was completely disgusted with myself. I had had sexual contact—on a near cosmic scale—with a reanimate, with a progenitor, with Constantine, The Great. And he was, as the tiger was fond of roaring, GREEAAT! And so had IT been, too. Earth-shatteringly, leg-quiveringly, mind-bendingly great. Only, following the deed, the Don Juan of the vampire set had humiliated me. He had expected, had actually demanded, further intimacies. He had, also, acquainted
me with the awful knowledge that I was now probably sexually addicted to him. While most men thought themselves irresistible, this one actually was. Or so he claimed.

  Unfortunately, from all the signs, I had cause to believe the liar. Ever since we had met, I had been growing strangely antsy and that unrest had multiplied, seemingly overnight, as if something deep seated and foreign now controlled my libido. SEX, embodied by a black-haired, sharp-toothed Adonis, had started to preoccupy me as never before. He had enticed me at every turn, getting under my thick skin, using the defenselessness of my dream-state to seduce me as a disembodied phantom. Each encounter, or so Constantine had savagely told me, had led me to invite him into the sanctuary of my home. That invitation, however, had had a catch. Constantine could never again enter without my permission. In this instance, I had bound him to my will and struck a bargain for one night of oral sex, never to be repeated. Hurrah for the one scruple which he hadn't subverted!

  But what good would that do me if I couldn't keep my hands off of him?

  He had been gone for less than three hours and my nerves were shot. I kept having flashbacks of our night together with a vividness that made my crotch ache and weep. I would remember the rise and fall of his coal dark head just above the apex of my legs, the texture of his tongue waggling within my wet folds, and the luscious width and overabundant fit of his cock in my fist. Such recollections left me shaken ... and extremely frustrated.

  But I had to go on with business as usual. Most of my day at De Facto Self Defense was quiet. This allowed me time to research my unsavory little problem, namely a vampiric sex addiction, at various way-outside-the-mainstream occult and paranormal websites, such as ‘The Lifted Veil', ‘Necrophiliacs Anonymous', ‘Lovers Of the Paranormal'. The legitimate sites had almost nothing on this subject matter! The foremost of these, naturally, belong to the Von Heslings and espoused one pertinent fact—that the entire species, male and female, was sterile. However, as far as I was concerned, the accuracy of this was suspect, given their worsening track record. The countless fringe sites also offered little information and what there was of it read like propaganda that could easily have been authored by none other than Marcus and Maxamillian. To whit, “All vampires are well endowed and have the stamina of bull elephants.” Puh-lease. I guess no one had, as yet, attempted a scientific field study of the sexual habits, practices, and prowess of vampires. And Constantine had called me a prude.

  In the end, going cold turkey seemed the likeliest way to beat my addiction. That first day was hard since I couldn't seem to keep my thoughts PG rated. The back of my skull ached. It was overstuffed with lustful thoughts and desires. Because of this terrible agitation, I dreaded nightfall more than I had thought possible. As a countermeasure, I reinforced all my warding spells. Added an extra dream catcher overtop my bed. Wore a Celtic cross visibly outside my shirt.

  And, as I paced the dimensions of the downstairs storefront, watching the inevitable advance of day into night, I vowed not to step one foot outside my apartment after nightfall where HE could get at me. Here, at least, I was safe. Except for the craving! I felt like someone had doused my food with Spanish Fly. My sexual motor revved up with nowhere to go. Every erogenous zone on my body tingled. Nothing could distract me. I couldn't read or watch television or listen to music, although I put on a CD, then turned it off. Nor could I sit still. Long after I had closed shop, I was still padding and pacing around my apartment, always avoiding the white-curtained windows. For, eventually, with a pang in my heart and another in my pussy, I sensed Constantine below on the street. I stood at attention in a defensive clench, every muscle locked.

  From that incredible distance, he whispered into my mind, but his enticements, at first tender and gentle, were made indistinguishable by my mental barriers, like the roar of a far off river. Whatever he would say, I refused to listen. Then his petitions grew harsher, more insistent, rather vulgar. Such a battle hurt physically, especially since I had to also fight the treasonous aspect in my mind that counseled capitulation, that demanded fornication! I soon sunk to the floor in a pained crouch, body scrunched into a tight ball, hands jammed to my ears. And, so totally engaged, I had no carnal thoughts of or for him. I refused to surrender. This time Constantine meant to take all of me.

  After an hour of such agony, he left. It was either that or drive me mad. But the war against desiring him still raged. In order to silence that new sultry part of me, which Constantine had called a small corruption, I took a handful of sleeping pills and a second of my extra special diet supplements. And hoped that, rather than overdose, I could get some sleep. But the pills didn't help. I was so wired that I tossed and turned. I lay in misery. Alone.

  The next morning I arose very early, groggy-minded, puffy-eyed, and still sexually-obsessed. I expended all my frustrated energies on cleaning, a novelty for me. I vacuumed. I dusted. Did laundry. Washed all the windows, upstairs and down. I scrubbed out the bathroom, the toilet, the sink, the tub. Then, after a quick shower, I breakfasted on a pop tart and glass of milk, went down to the shop, and called Traeger for a status report. The usual pleasantries were nil.

  I paced the length of the phone cord while we talked. “What's the word on Zellden?"

  "His suspension is now an official firing. He's vanished. Most likely on the run. Warrants are out for his arrest, although the FBIC has not released ALL the details of the break-in at their Virginia headquarters. Officially, he's wanted for his culpability in the deaths of the DC Agents as well as for the theft of sensitive material pertaining to national security. They are not releasing the fact that he took vampire DNA."

  "No wonder. That's so much more than a little creepy! You have to wonder why he took it. If he's an unbalanced maniac, then the Bureau has egg on its face for having put him in such a high level of authority. But if he's sane and he took it, the question remains why?” I paused in trying to solve this puzzle and squinted with a sudden eureka-type observation. “For a hush-hush operation, you seem to be privy to a lot of stuff. Not to mention apprising me of it."

  It was Traeger's turn to pause. He cleared his throat. “I've been promoted, Avna. To take over for Zellden. I'll be moving into his office at the Federal Building by the middle of next week."

  "Congratulations.” I managed to hide any reservations, since I never had been a fan of the FBIC, and I grinned from ear-to-ear at the news. Pater Traeger's conscience, scruples, and integrity were being recognized and rewarded. “They couldn't find a better man."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence. It makes it easier to ask you to come aboard.” He forestalled my protest by hurrying on to explain, “Not as an agent, but as a paid consultant. You could set your own hours, come and go as you please, just be a resource and get compensated very handsomely for doing so."

  "Wow.” His offer knocked me off my feet. I dropped into the wheeled office chair. The idea of working side-by-side with him, the man who was a veritable father figure, was both exciting and intimidating. But could I, a Vampyraphobe, become part of the FBIC? “That's flattering, Traeger. Really.” Once upon a time, not so very long ago, I would have angrily dismissed such a job offer out-of-hand. Deal with vampires? Be their advocate? Work as their defense? For equality, dignity, and justice? But that had been when my sole contact with their kind had been Snitch's attack, scaring the bejesus out of me, ruining my chances for an education, distorting my perception of all vampires. Now I had met, and liked, several of them. Josh Warner, the sexy boyish bartender. Haley Davis, the competent generous-spirited nurse. Marc and Max, the cute exasperating twins. Tanya, the innocent ill-fated young woman. I would gladly work on their behalf. But, if by doing so I had to have more direct contact with HIM, with Constantine, the Capital city's most prominent vampire, an FBIC verified progenitor, no less, I could not accept. My insides clenched with unsated desire just thinking about him.

  "No, sorry, I can't."

  "Give it some more thought. The offer is always open. No matter what, I r
ely on your insights."

  "Right. I'll keep that in mind.” I shifted the subject slightly. “I guess this makes Rasputin officially your problem. Any leads? To his whereabouts? His movements?"

  "Not unless you have any. No more attacks have occurred since Zellden's debacle. Nor, since the razing of the Tattoo Emporium, has there been any positive reports on the progenitor Rasputin. The FBIC order of execution is indefinitely executable. The public, in my opinion, is still at risk. Something's not right."

  "I agree, but I haven't a clue as to what.” But, I silently reflected, twisting the phone cord nervously around my fingers, there was one fact that I had never—would never—divulge. Rasputin, like Constantine only in a more brutal destructive way, wanted to turn me, to possess me, to consume me. Being a purported Soulsmith sure sucked!

  "You're our star witness against this monster. Once you verify him, the order of execution can be carried out. Under the circumstances, maybe I should post another plainclothes man outside your place."

  I had already chased off two of them. And, now, with Constantine prowling around my place like a tomcat, I wasn't about to have my privacy further invaded. “I don't think that's necessary. Thanks, anyway, Traeger. My place is as vampire proof as possible."

  "I don't like it, Avna. But I guess I can't force the issue. Just remember. I'm here if you need me. As for that consultant's position, it's an open offer. So is the extra security, if you change your mind."

  "'Bye, Traeger."

  "See ‘ya soon, Soulsmith. Keep safe in the meantime."

  I hung up the phone, completely depressed, which was a nice change from feeling horny. I had actually gone fifteen, okay, ten, minutes without impure thoughts of Constantine. I determined to do more research on the Internet in hopes of finding anything useful, and, also, to try and distract myself. It was Saturday. The shop wouldn't be opening today, or tomorrow. That seemed like a lot of time with nothing much to occupy myself, except for fantasies about Constantine. Skipping around on the net, however, made matters worse, owing to the material I was hunting, namely vampires and their sexuality, which uncovered lots of pornography. After several disturbing—and shamefully arousing—photos (I presumed of mortals standing in for the undead, who don't, according to most vampire lore, photograph!), I logged off the computer.