Blood & Magick
Book 1
Bell Book & Vampyre
Chapter One
He had long ago quit killing his prey. It really took very little blood to sustain him. It was the sheer pleasure of the taste of the blood, that caused many of his kind to continue drinking until the victim was dead. He took his pleasure now in controlled feedings that left his victims unharmed. He tapped into their secret fantasies and desires, so their minds experienced nothing but the utmost of pleasure as he fed.
Then healed the marks his fangs left, as soon as he finished feeding. The next morning, his prey thought they had experienced nothing more than a very intense and realistic wet dream. When he found a particularly delicious piece of prey, he would sometimes feed on them several times. He spaced his feedings out though, so that the prey was never seriously harmed. Normally, he never fed on even the most delicious piece of prey, more than once every two or three months. Tonight he was about to feed for the first time, on someone he thought would prove very palatable indeed. He had long ago discovered that interesting intelligent people, tasted much better than dull idiots did. People that piqued his interest, pleased his palate much more, than randomly taken prey. While he waited for this particular piece of prey to appear, he went over in his mind all that he had learned about her. This woman had first aroused his interest, because of her fantasy stories. He had stumbled across one of her short stories in an adult fantasy horror anthology paperback he had been leafing through after feeding on the owner of a bookstore.
The main character in that story had been a pagan witch. Reading between the lines had told him that the author of this story, was well versed in the ways of what has become known to some now as Wicca, or The Craft. Something about the way this woman who wrote under the pen name of Kassandra B. Badbh drew his attention, and kept it. Using the name of a Celtic War Goddess, who was known for being slightly promiscuous, and very mean, as part of her pen name, showed some originality. After reading more of her work, and a couple of interviews she had granted, he began to think she would be very pleasing to his discerning palate. But he felt she should be savored slowly. He would feed on someone else first. Save her as a delicious after dinner delicacy. He would have an early supper that night, so that he could really linger over dessert. He might even have Kassie a la cart. Take her back to his lair, and have breakfast in bed.
He could return her unharmed and conveniently absent minded the next night. Then take a few sips from her as an appetizer, before he departed to find the main course. Right now, he didn't want to make a full course meal out of her, and risk harming her. She looked a bit too pale and wan in her pictures to hold up to that. But, he also thought to himself, with a little help from him, she could build herself up. Healthier eating habits, some vitamins, especially the kind with iron, and a few dinners of steak tartar should do the trick. He would make a full course meal out her of yet. And still do her no serious harm. In fact, she would be healthier after he was through with her, than she had been before. He grinned to himself and thought, "The Dark Lord, truly does work in mysterious ways. Before he fed on her though, he wanted to talk her. He had a feeling having an interview with this witch, could prove to be an entertaining and enlightening experience. If nothing else, she was one of the few people, who's humor was at times, even more biting than his. He had discovered she was a prolific writer of fantasy horror stories. Many of her stories featured a pagan witch as one of the characters. She was a self proclaimed pagan witch and writer, who in her work, often poked fun at all religions, including her own. She took nothing too seriously, including herself. She threw satire and wit into her stories, with a precocious and generous hand. Her razor sharp wit cut right to the bone. She had a most peculiar way with puns. Sometimes she was as subtle as an oncoming freight train. Other times, her tongue in cheek puns were so sly, it was only after you read something the second time, that you got it. The titles of her stories were sometimes puns of popular books or movies about the creature or creatures she was writing about. She sometimes hid a least one subtle pun as an obscure reference to the title itself, in the story. Usually in the first chapter.
One blurb about her, had referred to her sex scenes, as one handed reading material. Though, her erotica was as generously spiced with humor, as it was with the heat of passion. In a light bondage scene, she was as likely to slap you with a pun, as a whip. For the human fans that responded to her literary lasciviousness, it must have been rather like being in a sexual fun house at times. Though normally unresponsive to literary erotica, the way she had a victim suck the vampyre's fang in one story, had made his own fangs twitch for a second. And made him wish that she really was a true witch. But he hadn't had a really hot time with a true witch, since before the burning times. Though she wrote for the adult fantasy horror genre, it was impossible to easily categorize her style of writing. She switched back and forth between styles so often and so suddenly, it made the words "multiple personalities" spring to mind. Her characters seemed even more off-center than she was. Eccentric elves and frivolous faeries, magickally appeared in her stories, in the oddest places. Her shamans were singular indeed. Her witches wickedly wacky. Her werewolves really weird. She even managed to breathe new life, into the undead. He had thought it might be amusing to appear to her during her next full moon ritual. Perhaps as she invoked the God and Goddess. Let her think she had conjured up the great God Pan himself. That should give her a thrill. Since only the true pagan witches of old knew how to seduce a vampyre, he didn't figure on really getting laid when he visited her. But, he thought the experience of feeding on her under those circumstances, might help break the monotony of his existence. If nothing else, he was sure her blood would be quite delectable. He might even get her to suck his fangs, before he sunk them in her neck, just to see how it would really feel. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her footfalls as she approached the grove. She wore a red hooded robe. And carried a large picnic basket. He chuckled quietly as the thought of Little Red Riding Hood sprang into his mind. Debated appearing to her as a werewolf just for the hell of it. She threw the hood back from her head, pulled the golden cord around her waist, and let the robe fall to the ground.
He was glad now he had saved her for dessert, so he could really savor her. She reached inside the picnic basket, and brought out a small compact disc player. Then two small speakers. And a hand rolled cigarette. She removed a book of matches from the basket, and lit the cigarette. Which from the smell of things, contained a sacred herb that had been a favorite of some of the pagan witches of old. Especially those who had been adept enough to know the ritual for seducing a vampyre. Feeding at some of the all night parties, sometimes turned orgies during the 1970's, had at times, given him flashbacks to those wonderful pagan rituals of old. When she plugged the speakers in, and pushed the play button, he was startled when instead of hearing waterfall sounds or some new age band, Jimi Hendrix's voice issued forth from the speakers. He studied with interest and amusement this self proclaimed witch.
This writer of off beat adult fantasy/horror stories. Who came into the woods dressed like Red Riding Hood, and performed her rituals sky clad to Jimi Hendrix tunes. This was certainly something he didn't see every night. He decided Kassie would definitely be worth a return visit to. She tossed the matches back in the basket, and brought the basket into the center of the grove, then sat it down. After she had removed the items she needed, she closed the lid, folded the handles back, and began placing some of the items on it. She placed an athame, a crystal wand, incense and candles on her wicker basket altar. Then a small bell, a book of shadows, and a goblet. Then she picked up a wine bottle, uncorked it and began to carefully pour some of its contents into the goblet. He was startled when he realized the liquid she was pouring into the goblet, was her own blood. She finished setting up her altar,
then began to caste a circle. A rather large circle at that, for a solitary ritual. He wondered just what she thought she was going to conjure up here. He felt the hunger rise within him as he watched her cast that sacred circle, and smelled the blood in the goblet. But as he watched her invoke the four watch towers, he felt something else stir. Something he hadn't felt stir for centuries, was now rising. He knew that only a very powerful witch, could arouse this kind of desire in one such as him. As he watched her, he realized that the soul within that beautiful pale body, was very old. Perhaps as old as his own immortal body. This woman was a true witch.
And a very powerful one. Who knew at least two of the ingredients in the ritual necessary to safely seduce a vampyre. The dainty flaxen haired beauty standing before him, was arousing emotions in him, that he had thought were lost to him forever. Desire, something he hadn't felt even a twinge of for centuries, was now washing over him in pleasurable little rippling waves. Then she began chanting the words to an ancient ritual, he had thought long forgotten. Raising her athame, she called his true name. The sound of it stunned him. It had been many many centuries since any mortal human had uttered that name. Though he had become known by other names during the last few hundred centuries, he thought no mortal who now walked this earth, knew his true name. Twice more she called his name. Then she looked in his direction and said, "Thrice now I have called your name. Why do you hesitate? Has it been so long since anyone called your name, you have forgotten it yourself?"
Stepping from behind the trees he replied, "No I have not forgotten my true name. But it has been so long since I heard a mortal woman speak it, I thought it a name long forgotten, by even one such as you ." The vampyre stepped into the circle, reached down, and picked up the goblet sitting upon the altar. He gently swirled the blood for a moment, then lifted the goblet to his nose and inhaled it's aroma. The bouquet was rich and heady. And lightly spiced with aroma of the other body juices she had mixed in with the blood. He put the goblet to lips and took a small sip. Held the blood on his tongue to savor it's flavor. The taste of her blood was even more delicious than he had dreamed. Wonderfully rich and full bodied.
Sweet, but with more than a hint of tartness in it. As that first sip of her blood washed over his tongue, he also tasted the other body fluid she had mixed in with it. As it flowed down his throat, desire rose within him. He took another sip from the goblet, held a small part of the liquid on his tongue, and swallowed the rest. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as it flowed down his throat. As the taste of pleasure and desire saturated his tongue and filled his mouth, he tilted his head back, and let the rest of her blood flow down his throat. It had been a very very long time, since he had felt anything but hunger. Mingled now with a desire to fill himself with her blood, was a desire to fill her with himself. He wanted to plunge his now hardening member into her warm soft womanhood, just as badly as he wanted to plunge his fangs into her lovely neck. Mixed with a desire to lick the final drops of her blood from his lips, was a desire to plunge his tongue inside her, and taste full strength, the essence she had mixed with her blood. Once more he tilted the goblet to his mouth. But instead of drinking from it, he plunged his tongue in it, and gently swirled that tongue in small circles. Then he withdrew his tongue slowly from the goblet, and back into his mouth. He tilted his head back again and closed his eyes. And let the droplets of blood that had remained on his tongue, slowly flow down his throat.
Again he brought the goblet to his lips. This time he tilted his head back with the goblet still at his mouth, and let the rest of the liquid in it fill his mouth and flow down his throat. When the last of her blood flowed from the goblet into his mouth, he flung the goblet down, and closed his eyes. He was letting the last of her blood trickle down his throat when he heard her begin to softly chant words that he never thought he would hear again. Words that soothed his blood lust, and further aroused his desire. When she had finished chanting the words to that ancient ritual, he reached for her. She came into his arms willingly. He sensed no revulsion as he pulled her to him. The touch of his icy hands sent shivers of delight, not revulsion through her. The feel of his fangs against her lips as he kissed her, did not cause her to draw back from him. Nor did the taste of her blood on his tongue, as he plunged it into her mouth. He felt warm arms returning his icy embrace. Felt the beat of her heart against his cold silent chest. A low growling moan came from him as she tightened her embrace, and pressed her warm body against his.
Because he had drunk from the goblet, he now felt her desire mingle with his own. He was feeling not only his own response to her, but he was also feeling her response to him, in a way no mortal man could. She was now a part of him in a way she could never be a part of a mortal man. He knew exactly how to arouse her, just as she new exactly how to arouse him. No two mortal beings could ever truly know each other the way they now knew one other. His knowledge of her came from what was in the goblet. Her knowledge of him came from a source that even he did not fully understand. She was a true witch. Her body was that of a mortal human being. But her soul, and the ancient knowledge contained within that soul, was eternal. With that ancient knowledge, she had aroused a desire in him that he had not felt in centuries.
As that desire swept through him, he gathered her up in his arms and gently lowered her to the ground. He lowered himself on top of her and once more a low growling moan escaped his lips, as he gently pressed himself against her. Raising himself on one elbow, he took his other hand and placed it against the side of her face. He stared down into her amber eyes and asked, "You do this thing knowing what I am? Of your own accord and free will?" She rubbed her cheek into his cold hand, as a cat rubs against the warmth of a mortal's leg, then turned her face into it and gently kissed his icy palm. Then she turned her head back to him, stared into his eyes steadily and replied, "I do this thing knowing full well what you are. I do it of my own accord and free will." The ritual was now complete. For a short magickal time, passion would override blood lust. The icy hand that had been against her cheek slowly moved down her throat. As his fingers brushed her chin and began to gently slide down her throat, he heard her moan softly, and felt her body arch towards his. The pleasure his touch brought her, echoed within him. Slowly his hand continued down. As his cold hand enveloped the warmth of a breast, he heard the sharp intake of her breath, and felt her body tremble slightly. He lowered his head to her exposed throat and for a moment rested his fangs against her jugular vein.
He slid his mouth slowly down, and gently licked the hollow of her throat. Heard and felt the gentle murmuring moan of pleasure she made as his tongue traced tiny circles in that hollow. Felt the nipple of the breast he had cupped in his hand become hard. He gave the hollow of her pale throat one last lick, and slid his mouth down to her other breast. As he cupped one breast with his hand, and softly rubbed the nipple of that breast between his thumb and forefinger, his tongue was drawing gentle circles around the nipple of her other breast. Then he began to softly suck her breast, and tease her nipple with his tongue. As he felt her body arch towards him again, he released her nipple and slid his head further down her body. When he reached her stomach, he slid the tip of his tongue into her belly button. Heard the sharp intake of breath again, and felt the tremor of pleasure that ran through her body.
He released her other breast from his hand, and let that hand slowly slide down the side of her body. When it reached her thigh, her legs parted, and he moved his hand across her pelvis, and gently stoked her clitoris with his finger. Then as his tongue gently probed her belly button, he slid one finger into her. And moaned when he felt her wetness. The need to taste her was overwhelming now. He withdrew his tongue from her belly button and began to slide his mouth down. He gave her clitoris only few gentle licks before he moved his head down further and plunged his tongue deep inside her. When a mortal tastes a woman in this way, he can only taste her juices. When a vampyre tastes a woman in this way, he can savor her soul. And the soul of this witch was sweet indeed.
This soul had experienced love and passion in many ways and forms. Some of the the ways and forms she had experienced passion in this lifetime alone, was raising a hell of a lot more than his eyebrows. As he continued to savor her, the vampyre had a feeling that the witch's soul he was currently sipping from in such a pleasant manner, had an even more checkered sexual history, than he did. Which, when you are the very thing that the whole erotic myth and legend of vampyres is built upon, isn't something you come across every night. The knowledge that the soul of the witch he was currently licking up, was as well versed in the carnal arts, as she was in the ways of The Craft, was certainly no turn off to a vampyre as old and experienced as he was. A vampyre who hadn't been laid by a true witch, in several hundred centuries. After all those years of celibacy, he wasn't exactly in the mood to gently break in a virgin right now. Kassie groaned as he probed her with his tongue. As he began to massage her love button with his thumb, she spread those long pale legs of hers wider, and made a moaning sound, that tickled the fancy of his ear. He growled softly, plunged his tongue in deeper, and massaged her love button harder. As he felt her Pandora's box begin to contract around his tongue in orgasmic ecstasy, he pressed his mouth against her, worked his tongue back and forth, rotated his thumb faster, and sucked the juices that were now freely flowing, down his throat.
Kassie made a delightful gasping noise, and the juices flowed even more freely. As he felt the final contractions of that orgasm around his tongue, he also felt her fingers tug on his ears. The vampyre with his head currently between the legs of a certain very wickedly wanton witch, had never had a witch pull his ears before. No matter how damned wickedly wanton they might be. He couldn't help but wonder right then, if the wench had a habit of tugging on Superman's cape as well. Then she pulled his ears harder, and he heard her say in a demanding breathless moaning voice, that a porn director would have killed for to have on audio tape, "Oh baby, let me feel your dick in me." As he rose up to oblige that breathless demand, he couldn't help but think, that if he were the Lone Ranger, he would gladly let her unmask him right now. As he felt the tip of his penis begin to glide into her, she wrapped her long legs around him. Her heels were resting on either side of his spine. As he began to push himself into her, he felt those tiny heels digging into his back. Then he felt her warm hands grasping his buttocks. Pulling him deeper into her. Growling, he began to move within her. With each downward stroke, he felt his own pleasure, and hers. He buried his face against the side of her neck, and had he been able to, would have wept with pleasure as she met his every thrust.
Each time he thrust himself into her, he could feel her heels digging into his back. Could feel her nails digging into his buttocks, as she pulled him deeper into her. She let go of his buttocks, and brought her hands up to his head. She pulled his head gently from her neck and towards her face. As waves of pleasure consumed him, she placed her mouth over his. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth. His body trembled with pleasure as she began to gently suck his tongue. He felt as if his very soul were being sucked from him. But instead of drawing back, he plunged his tongue and penis deeper into her.
Her own tongue began to explore his mouth. Then very gently, she licked one of his fangs. The vampyre bared his fangs, and let her have her way with his sensitive incisors. The pleasure he felt was exquisite. Just when he thought it impossible to feel any greater pleasure than he was feeling right now, she reached down, and gently cupped his cold testicles, with one warm hand. The feel of her hand on his testicles, made him jerk his head back from hers and moan with pleasure. Warm living fingers gently stroked and grasped him, as he began to thrust himself into her harder and faster. As she cupped and stroked his testicles with one hand, her other hand pulled his face back down to hers. Kassie began to gently lick, then suck first one fang, then the other, as she continued to stroke his icy testicles. Never had he felt such pleasure. No other witch had ever made him feel like this. Not even Arial, queen of the early pagan witches had loved him in such a manner. Suddenly she pulled her head back, paused her gentle stroking of his testicles, then giggled and said, "Maybe her arms weren't long enough, and she didn't think about your fangs being erogenous zones." Then she began her gentle stroking of his balls again, and once more sensuously licked, then sucked his left fang.
He didn't know if it was the giggle, a sound he had never heard a witch make before, or the fact that she had read his thoughts so well, that surprised him the most. The sound of that giggle, had stopped his thrusting in mid stride. Her words had amazed him beyond belief. No witch had ever read his thoughts so quickly, or so accurately. Though he had been unable to stop himself resuming his frantic thrusting when she had started stroking his fangs and balls again, he paused now, drew his head back from her face and exclaimed, "By the eye patch of Odin woman, what manner of witch are you?" She calmly looked up at him, then smiled the most mischievous smile he had ever seen, giggled again in a way that made his fangs and balls twitch with pleasure, and said, "I believe the modern day term for what I am, in the context of what we are doing right now, would be total fucking slut puppy." Then she pulled his head back down to her face, gave both his fangs a long sensuous lick, and started once more stroking his balls with her warm fingers. Passion he had experienced before. But the sense of adventure she was starting to bring with her to this frantic coupling, was something he had never experienced before. He paused again in his thrusting, and drew his head back from the exquisite feel of her tongue on his fangs.
She had been alternately licking one and then the other, in a way that was driving him crazy, and said, "I have walked this earth longer than any vampyre ever has. I have shared passion with the first queen of the pagan witches, but never have I heard a witch giggle while I have held her in my arms. By the crescent moon of the great Goddess, it is a wonderful sound!" Then he smiled, lowered his face to her ear and whispered, "Speaking of puppies?" She giggled as he drew his head back to wait for her answer, then said with another one of those mischievous grins, "Well, that's what you get for fucking brunettes all this time. As you can plainly see now, blondes really are more fun. Oh, and we love doing it doggie style!" Then she grinned at him, and said, "Especially those of us who are real bitches at heart." Her reply left him slightly dazed and confused for a few seconds. He had a feeling trying to have a conversation with her, even when you weren't screwing her brains out, could be an interesting experience.
He had been around for a long time though, and was no slouch at word play himself. He gazed down into her amber eyes, smiled and said, "They were not all brunettes. But I'll concede, that if all blondes were like you, they truly would be more fun. Some brunettes, and one redhead I know of, liked to do it doggie style. Though I prefer to think of it as the wolf way. Come to think of it though, they were bitches at heart." His response seem to delight her. She giggled hysterically for a few seconds, took one of her fingers, and very slowly ran the tip of her nail from the crack of his ass all the way down to the base of his balls. As he bared his fangs and shuddered with pleasure, she raised up, and very deliberately ran her tongue down his left fang. Then she laid her head back down, closed her eyes, and with a contented happy grin on her face said, "Oooooooh baby, you are going to be SO much fun!
I simply adore a vampyre that can keep his dick, and his end of the conversation up. So far you seem to be doing very well in both departments. Keep this up, and I may give you a gold pentacle." The vampyre grinned down at the witch and replied, "Keeping my dick up around you isn't going to be a problem. But keeping up my end of the conversation, and my fangs out of your flesh, is another story." Then he reluctantly withdrew from her. And in as stern as voice as could master said, "Now, on your knees woman!" To his immense amazement and relief, she obeyed him instantly. As he looked at the two rounded cheeks now in front of him, he placed his hands on them, looked up to the sky, and said, "Merciful heavens! There is a God after all!" He spread those pale gleaming cheeks, and guided the tip of his icy penis into her. After the tip of his penis was in place, he wrapped one hand under her waist. As he did so, she braced her arms, lifted her feet off the ground and hooked them around his legs. Then he lifted her up slightly, until her knees were no longer touching the ground, and pulled her backwards.
Once he had her firmly impaled, he entwined the fingers of his other hand in the flaxen field of hair flowing down her back. She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiled that mischievous smile of hers, and said in a soft purring southern drawl, "Well now cowboy, think you got a good handle on things?" Up until that moment, he thought he had. But there was something in that smile of hers, that told him he may not have after all. Sighing he said, "Well I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure. But little lady, I'll do my best to hang on until the whistle blows." Then, just for the hell of it, he flicked her hair as if it were reins, lifted her up again slightly, yanked her back as he thrust himself forward, and yelled, "Yee Haa! Giddy Up!" As she bucked against him and met his thrust, he thought he had never had a night quite like this. Grinding her pelvis into his she looked back over her shoulder again, and said, "Stick it to me cowboy, and I may not make you famous, but I'll damn sure take you places you ain't never been before."
He tightened his grip on her waist and hair, and began to ram himself into her as hard as he could without splitting her in half. He noticed very quickly, that even though her body was at this moment in time, completely mortal, something he was already deciding needed changing, he still found himself able to fuck her harder than he had ever been able to fuck a completely mortal witch before. How this dainty little creature could withstand this kind of punishment, was a pleasant puzzle to him. Those pale thin arms of hers she was bracing herself with seemed to be made of steel. The feet she had hooked around his legs, never seem to lose their grip. He didn't even have to worry about grinding her knees to bloody stubs, because as long as he kept her lifted up slightly as he yanked her back and thrust himself forward, her knees weren't even touching the ground. He was thinking he could keep this up forever, when she took one of the hands she hand been bracing herself with, scrunched her torso up in a way he would not have thought even inhumanly possible, slid her arm down between their legs, and blew that plan all to hell and back, by squeezing his balls. If he had breathed liked a mortal man, the feeling would have taken his breath away. Instead of gasping as a mortal man would have, he involuntarily howled when she began to gently and rhythmically squeeze his balls. He tightened his grip on her waist and hair to help compensate for the fact she was now only bracing herself with one hand, and continued thrusting against her, until he was a hair's breath from climaxing. Then he stopped and said, as sternly as he could, "Woman, put both hands back down on the ground!"
She laughed and said with mock disappointment, "Killjoy!" But once again, to his surprise, she obeyed him. He waited for her to get both hands firmly back on the ground, then resumed lifting and thrusting. When he felt her climax again he stopped his rhythmic pumping and gently lowered her until her knees were once more on terra firma. She looked over her shoulder and asked, "What's a matter cowboy, losing your grip?" He grinned at her and replied, "No, not as long as I can keep your hands off my balls. I just think it's time for a change." He unwound his fingers from her hair, let go of her waist, and gently withdrew from her. Then stood up. She also stood up, turned around, put her hands on her hips, and said, "So what's next? Oh wait, let me guess!" And imitating his voice perfectly said, "Woman, on your back!" Before he could reply, she gracefully crumpled to the ground, then flung herself on her back and spread her legs wide open.
Any thoughts he had previously been entertaining about trying it standing up, flew out of his mind as quickly as bats will fly from a belfry when the moon rises. She lay there in the moonlight with legs spread and throat upturned. He wanted very badly to simply take a running dive at her, but he couldn't decide whether to go for her throat, or her snatch. Then he heard her calmly say, "You go for the throat, I'm going to put a stake through your heart big boy." He thought that as resourceful as she seemed to be, she just might have a stake in that basket of goodies she was now using as an altar, so he dived for her nether regions instead. He was happily lapping at her clit like a cat at a bowl of milk, thinking smugly that he was in total control of the situation now, and enjoying the mewling sounds she was making, when she slid her left leg under his arm, stuck her foot under him, and began tickling the tip of his dick with her toes. Then she slid her toes down his dick, and began tickling his balls with them. He was just getting ready to plunge his tongue into her as she climaxed again, when he felt her hands tugging on his ears. She put her left leg back over his arm, crossed her heels behind his back, and gently pulled his head upwards. As he came up, so did her legs. When he was once more looking down directly into her eyes, her ankles were crossed behind his neck. He reached down and guided himself into her.
Then he captured both her hands in his, pinned them above her head, and began to slowly pump. He was deliberately keeping his mouth out of reach of hers as well. He figured as long as he could keep her hands and feet away from his balls, and her tongue and mouth off of his fangs, he had it made. He was really enjoying how helpless she was in this position when she started to climb him. She hooked her heels together firmly, arched her back, and began to push her pelvis in, and up, at the same time forcing him to rear backwards and arch his back to stay inside her. Letting go of her hands, he reached up and grabbed her ankles. Uncrossing them he held her legs apart, pinned her down, and began to drive himself into her faster and harder. Before he had taken three full strokes he felt her hand cup his balls. Then her fingers were stroking them again.
He was learning fast that you could only control certain parts of this amazing witch at any given time. Pin her hands down to try to keep them off your balls, and she would wrap her heels around your neck and climb all over your cock with her pussy, in the most amazing way. Unwrap those heels and pin her pussy down, and her hands would go to work on your balls. He was looking down at her in wonderment when she grinned and said, "Sort of like fucking one of those little green rubber dolls, isn't it?" He stopped his hard and fast thrusting for a moment, and said, "Damnation woman, just how well do you read my thoughts? And yes, I suppose that is as good a way to describe it as any. You are most certainly better than a blow up doll! Those things don't last worth a damn around me." She dissolved into giggles, and said, "Bet your fangs I'm better than a blow up doll! And it takes a hell of a lot to deflate me."
Then she looked him straight in the eye, smiled slyly and said, "Oh, and I read your thoughts just about as well as I need to." Then that sly smile turned wicked. She took the hand she wasn't using to stroke his balls with, brought it up in front of her face, and started beckoning him closer with her finger. He shook his head frantically and said, "No! Absolutely not! Your mouth is not getting anywhere near my fangs!" She reached up and grabbed the back of his head and tried to pull his head down towards hers. She was using her hand and ankles to try and force his head down. But he was after all, a full grown vampyre with inhuman strength. He knew her mouth wasn't getting anywhere near his fangs. Then she opened her mouth and very deliberately began to lick her incisors.
And not so gently squeeze his balls. He tried closing his eyes, but he could still feel her squeezing his balls harder and harder. Then, even with his eyes firmly closed, he could see her running her tongue over her own incisor. Which of course made him think about how good that tongue felt on his fangs. It didn't help matters, when she started digging her nails into the base of his balls every so slightly. Then she took the hand she had been using to try and pull his head down with, and tapped on his forehead with a fingernail. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "Hey baby." She said with an evil grin.
"What's it going to be? Pleasure?" As she slowly drawled the word "pleasure" out, she gently cupped his balls in her hand and stroked the base of them with a soft finger, licked her own incisor sensuously, and ran her index finger down his fang. She quit licking her incisor, squeezed his balls none to gently, dug her fingernail into the base of them, and said, "Or pain?" She stopped squeezing his balls and started gently cupping them, and softly stroking the base of them with her fingertips, licked her incisor, ran her finger down his fang, and again said "Pleasure?" Began to squeeze his balls and dig her nails in again, and said "Or pain?" Then repeated the process again. He let go of her ankles, brought his faced close to hers, and moaned, "How about a little of both?" She gave another one of those self satisfied giggles and said, "I can do that!" Kassie wrapped her legs around him, dug her heels in, and as she pulled his head down to hers, thrust her pelvis upwards. Then she began slowly licking and sucking first one bared fang, then the other.
Meanwhile, she was also squeezing his balls and gently digging her fingernails into the base of them. Then she really got her groove going. On the downward strokes he took, she would lick and suck one fang, squeeze his balls and dig her nails in. Upward strokes, she sucked the other fang, and gently cupped and stroked his balls. Up. Down. Pleasure. Pain. The sensations were overwhelming. Controlling himself was becoming increasingly more difficult. Then he realized that the closer he came to losing control, the more excited she became. And he started feeling that excitement himself.
Not in the usual way because he had drank her blood. But in an even deeper way. She was deliberately willing him to feel her pleasure. His dick, his mind, his very bones, were feeling not only his own pleasure, but hers as well. And mixed in with all that pleasure, was just enough pain to make him savor the pleasure more. Finally it all became too much. He felt himself losing control. Heard the low keening moaning sound she was making. Then heard the howl that issued from his throat. Heard her growl, and felt her nails dig into the base of his balls. And lost it completely. Pleasure washed through him in waves as he drove himself into her. As he reached the peak of his climax she was squeezing his balls gently, and licking his left fang hard. Then she took the hand she had been holding his head with, and as she licked his right fang hard, and squeezed his balls gently, she raked her nails down his back. The howl that issued from his throat, was heard for miles around. It had been so long since he had experienced any sexual pleasure, much less this much sexual pleasure, he was left speechless after that final howl.
He had lost control so badly, slammed himself into her so hard as he climaxed, he was afraid he had done her serious harm. But then he heard her giggle and say, "Well! That was certainly intense!" He still hadn't regained the ability to speak, and just looked down at her in complete amazement. She had her eyes closed, a very contented look on her face, and didn't seem to require a reply to her observation. She casually unwrapped her legs from around his back and lowered them. Then she lay perfectly still again. He didn't withdraw from her, but simply stretched his legs out between hers, and propped himself on one elbow over her. He was trying to read her thoughts, but he wasn't getting anywhere. Her mind appeared to be completely blank. He ran into a wall of silence when he tried to tune his inner ear into her thoughts. He seemed to hear what appeared to be faint static behind that wall. But he could not catch one solitary coherent thought. And he realized she wasn't reading his thoughts right now. She couldn't be. She wasn't around to be reading them apparently. It was as if her entire mind had stepped out on a coffee break.
For some reason, the term spaced out, suddenly popped into his mind. He tapped her gently on her forehead with one finger. While he was tapping it, he looked up and said, "Scotty, can you beam her back down please?" This caused her eyes to fly open in delighted amazement. "A Trekkie vamp? Will wonders and miracles never cease? Next you'll be telling me you can walk on water, and you have an e-mail address." He laughed and said, "No, I cannot walk on water." Then he smiled smugly and replied, "But, I have every episode of that show on tape. I own, and know how to operate, a television, and a VCR." Smiling even more smugly he said, "I also own and know how to operate a computer.
I have a couple of e-mail addresses in fact. But frankly my dear, sometimes Windows sucks worse than I do." As he began to feel the first twinges of the hunger, he bent down and kissed her deeply, then reluctantly withdrew from her and began to raise himself off of her. She watched him as he stood up and said, "That's the problem with you guys, you never hang around for pillow talk." He helped her to her feet, drew her against him, and gently brushing her hair back said, "Woman, there is nothing in the world I would rather do than indulge in some pillow talk with you." He kissed her on the tip of her nose and continued, "But the hunger begins to grow. And after this, I will soon become ravenous. I'm not sure I could leave anyone I fed on, especially you, alive and well when it peaks. I would rather have both my fangs pulled than bring harm to you. So I am going to leave and feed quickly, before I become a raging beast. You know perfectly well that after tonight, all you need do is call my name thrice, and I'll be there."
She smiled sadly at him and said, "I know the power I have over you right now. But I will never use that power. If ever again you come to me, it must be of your own accord and free will. I will bind neither man nor vampyre to me, with bonds of magick." Her words struck him like the blow of a stake. He clasped her to him as tightly as he could without hurting her and said, "If I ever come to you again? Woman, right now I want nothing more than to never let you from my embrace. When I come to you tomorrow night, it will be of my own accord and free will. Though your magick is among the most powerful I have ever encountered, it is not what binds me to you."
The hunger was growing stronger now. He could hear the sound of her blood coursing through her veins. Smell the sweet scent of it. And the need to bury his fangs in her neck grew. Almost roughly he pushed her away. "I must go now. I dare not tarry any longer." She watched him stride out of the circle, and disappear into the trees. When she was sure he was gone, she crumpled to the ground, put her face in her hands and wept. Knowing if he ever learned the true secret of who and what she was, he would tear her throat out in blind hatred. As he had done once before, on another moonlit night many many centuries before.