The Darker Passions

by Nancy Kilpatrick

  Jonathan's lips found one of Magda's nipples. He took it between his teeth and whipped it with his tongue, then sucked hard. Her head fell back and her hand automatically raised and lowered the paddle onto his bare ass. He moaned and writhed against the wall of flesh imprisoning him.

  The vein under Magda's finger pumped harder. His skin heated up and sweat seeped from the pores. Jonathan's hands clawed at her satin skirt, lifting it so he could caress her chilled hips, thighs, her well-rounded buttock. He slid a finger down the crack of her ass until it reached her anus and stopped. She shivered in anticipation. The thin sister guided his other hand to her own mound. He tapped both the pink hole and the pink bud quickly. The plump sister rubbed her crotch against his leg in time. Magda paddled him fast and hard and he groaned, sweat beading across his forehead.

  "Lower!" she ordered. He spread his legs wide on command until his thick cock nestled beneath her. The thin sister stroked his shaft from tip to base, guiding him towards Magda's hungry lower mouth.

  Magda felt the vein struggling to burst the skin in search of her teeth, eager to meet their destiny. She moistened her lips and lowered them to his neck. Under the soft flesh of her mouth, the vein jumped happily.

  The head of Jonathan's cock entered her and her cunt caressed it. The points of her incisors found the vein. It throbbed against their sharpness, eager to be pierced. She worked the paddle in time to the throbbing, against his one cheek only. His body trembled under the combined strain.

  "Stand erect!" she commanded. His straightened and his cock plunged up into her, lifting her off the floor, filling her with hot flesh.

  Suddenly everything changed. The temperature plummeted. The air reeked with seething anger. A roar pierced her ears. "How dare you touch him, any of you? This man belongs to me! Back, I tell you, or you'll have to deal with me!" Vlad shouted. The others backed away immediately, but Magda held Jonathan to her, in her, refusing to let him go.

  Vlad separated them roughly. Jonathan opened his mouth but before he could speak was backhanded across the room. The sisters cringed against the wall, holding each other.

  Magda, who many times had tasted Vlad's fury, turned on him. She could not believe her boldness. "You bring him here for your own pleasure," she shrieked. "But what of us? You yourself never loved; you never love!"

  Her words stung him, that was clear. She thought she saw a look of regret cross his face, but he closed off to her. "Yes, I too can love; you can tell it from the past."

  Magda sneered. "The past! The past for you is the prison where the Turkish jailors taught you well." The sisters laughed. "Sluts!" she yelled at them. "I'll give you both a licking!"

  "So, you are now mistress supreme of my domicile. This is curious."

  "Not curious at all. You've simply been too busy to notice."

  "Well, I notice now, and from what I have witnessed tonight, your skills are wanting. Perhaps you have forgotten your lessons."

  "I have graduated from your tutelage."

  "Have you? We shall see about that."

  "Master," whined the plump sister. "Are we to have nothing tonight?"

  He tossed her a sack he held containing some kind of creature that wailed. The sisters pounced on the bag.

  Vlad turned back to Magda and pierced her with his black-ice eyes. She felt him penetrate her soul, baring her secret desires, so long held in check. Suddenly she felt nervous. What had she done? challenging him like this. She had forgotten her place. Instantly she knew she would pay for this indiscretion, and pay dearly. Excitement quivered through her, tempered by dread.

  Silently he pointed across the room. She knew what awaited her there and froze in terror. When she did not move, he yelled, "Enough!" He ripped the gown from her body then grabbed her fiery hair and dragged her to the wall.

  A colorful leather saddle, the type used in Turkey in the 16th century, had been bolted to a kind of narrow metal horse. He threw her over the saddle, ass up. Within seconds he had her limbs spread wide, wrists and ankles secured to each of the horse's legs.

  "To the cellars!" he ordered the sisters. They scurried past him and out the door, carrying the bag with them.

  Vlad picked up the stunned Jonathan in his arms and turned to Magda. "I fear I have been remiss in my duties as Master of this castle. You are in desperate need of intimate attention." An evil smile curled his well-defined lips, revealing the points of two sharp teeth. She had forgotten that smile, but instantly remembered. It made her shiver in fear and expectation. "You will, of course, wait for me here. I shall return, have no fear of that. And when I do, all that is amiss will be properly and thoroughly corrected."

  He carried Jonathan from the room, on the way out taking from the wall a fat Moroccan dildo and a handful of willow switches. For Jonathan, she thought jealously, resenting them both.

  Chapter Three

  Magda lay unable to move, her ass exposed, the skin stretch taut. The horse had been specially designed by Vlad with three rings on each leg, leather thongs attached to every ring, the height of the rings tailored to each of his three wives. Additional straps pulled her thighs wide.

  It had been decades since Magda was positioned so. When she had first come here, before the sisters, before he took to bringing home peasants from the village who arrived after sunset and disappeared before dawn, before he brought home Englishmen, she had ridden this animal of pain often. Her undead state had not saved her from the lash that had been applied religiously to her bottom. If anything, after he changed her, he whipped her more fiercely. Sensation had intensified coupled with an increased endurance of pain. Punishments that might previously have injured her beyond repair, she had learned not only to endure but to welcome. The fact that her new state allowed her to heal completely within two days had provided increased opportunity for Vlad to exercise his predilections. At least that had been so until he became too busy for her.

  But she had always hated this horse. It not only held her fast, but exhibited her so completely: inverted, large breasts dangling before her face, limbs stretched wide apart, ass flesh primed for paddle or whip, both of her openings offered equally for his pleasure—and he had taken his pleasure with both, regularly. She could not feel more vulnerable than on this dreaded metal beast, helpless, awaiting her master's relentless punishments. And he knew that.

  She did not hear him enter, but felt his presence, as she always did. The air in the room became dense, as if the moisture level had increased. Suddenly she had a clear view of him upside down. A tall, powerful man, with long black hair and moustache, and a determined chin. Even from this angle she could see his rigid posture, the tension in his limbs. During his lifetime he had been a famous warlord, hero to some, monster to others, invincible in battle, indomitable in spirit then, and now. After all this time of being with him, and despite his callous neglect, she was surprised to find her nipples firming; she still found him irresistibly attractive.

  The wall behind him held a small rectangular window with crimson-tinted glass that could not hide the pitch black sky. He saw her glance at the window. "The sun will not rise for many hours. You will enjoy a long ride on your favorite beast."

  "Master, please forgive—"

  "Magda, you disappoint me." He stepped towards her. "You have learned nothing from the carefully applied if painful lessons of the past."

  "Far in the past," she said bitterly, and immediately wished she'd bitten her tongue.

  "Yes, perhaps too far. I see now that sparing the rod does in fact spoil the child of the night. But that will soon be remedied."

  He moved close and her angle of vision cut off his head, shoulders and chest to the waist. She could only see him from the hips down. He wore tall polished boots and suede riding breeches, both black; there was never a single speck of color about him. She noticed the massive bulge straining against the suede pants and felt an ache of longing cut through her. Damn him for ignoring her for so long! She would not forgive him. "I had forgotten your charm
s," he said. A cool hand rode up one cheek, across and down the other, across the bottom and up again. This soft, circular motion lulled her.

  "Magda, do you remember when I first came for you?"

  She hadn't thought of that night for a long time.

  Her father was away in Buda-Pest, her mother visiting a cousin across the village.

  Magda was eighteen years old and still a virgin, with smooth creamy skin and flaming hair. Because she refused to keep her thoughts to herself, she was not popular, although many of the young men would have overlooked this trait. But Magda found them all wanting. They were coarse creatures who only pulled at her in a vulgar manner. She rebuffed them all. Her parents, intimidated by her strong will, did not know what to do with her, and her mother worried she would never marry.

  One night, the moon brimming, just at the first frost, Magda had a dream, or so she thought. The sky blackened, as if a thousand bats blocked the light of the moon and stars. The air grew colder and she shivered, although her body began to feel hot in places. She opened her eyes. A man stood outside the window, staring at her. His eyes were red coals, his features dark and sinister. She opened her mouth to scream but then, for some unknown reason, closed it.

  Before she could think what to do, he was in her room, beside her bed, pulling the blankets down. She wore a plain cotton nightdress, white, that covered her entire body. He rolled the dress up from her ankles slowly, as if peeling back the rind of a ripe fruit. His hands were icy and she shivered. She really should run out and find her mother...

  The thin cotton gathered around her neck, she looked down at her nakedness, at her firm nipples, her flat stomach, the mound of red hair, embarrassed before this stranger. Obviously he was a nobleman, wealthy from the rich clothing he wore. His eyes roved up and down her well-formed body and she could almost feel heat prickling her skin. Those eyes were not red now, but black and mysterious. Eyes that revealed nothing he did not wish to reveal. A face handsome, in a cruel way, especially the mouth. The idea that he would not be easily rebuffed by her proved thrilling.

  He reached out a hand. "Come!"

  Reluctantly she took his hand and sat up, then stood.

  No sooner had she stood than he sat. He captured both her wrists in one of his hands and pulled her quickly across his lap and up one leg so that she straddled his left thigh awkwardly. She gasped, startled, her feet unable to find purchase on the floor without raising her bottom indiscreetly into the air.

  "What do you think you're doing, sir?" she demanded, struggling for a balance she could not achieve.

  He laughed, a rich sound, harsh around the edges, that rippled through her. "You are impertinent," he told her, "and must be tamed." Her gown had fallen back to her ankles when she stood. This time he yanked the fabric up roughly to her waist, exposing her bare bottom.

  He rubbed her ass cheeks, up one side, across the top, down the other side and along the bottom, then around again and again, his touch comforting and sensual.

  "My mother will be home soon." She sounded half hearted. "You will leave now, before she arrives, and I shall forget the entire episode, otherwise mother will report you to the authorities." This was not turning out the way a dream should. His large hand felt soft and warm against her bottom. She grew relaxed, although the skin began to tingle.

  He laughed again. "And who might these authorities be?"

  "Vlad Dracula himself, the vivode of Transylvania. He who rules these mountains justly, but with a firm hand, that's who!"

  "And if I told you I am the vivode?"

  "I would call you a liar."

  "Your tongue knows no bounds, and neither shall your punishments." The humor had left his voice completely. She became frightened.

  Still holding her wrists tightly in one hand, he removed his lamb's wool hat and thrust it before her face. The emblem on the front contained a dragon. It suddenly struck her where she had seen that crest before. "Oh my lord!" she stammered. "You are Dracula, son of the dragon. Vivode of the Carpathians. Forgive me, sire, I did not know."

  "And now you do and you will know this also: you belong to me, body, mind and soul, and I intend to enjoy my property."

  His hand returned to her buttocks. He slid a finger down the crack in her behind. She felt her face color with embarrassment as he paused at her bottom hole, then moved lower allowing a moment of false relief. Warmth flooded her stomach.

  Three of his fingers probed her womanly opening, an area not touched by anyone before, including herself. Her back arched as the fingers entered her. It did not hurt, except when he pushed too far in, but provided a pleasant tickling feeling new to her. His fingers inside her caused her face and chest to flush and made her breath quicken, and she did not know why.

  When he removed his fingers, she felt as though something that belonged to her had been taken away, but not for long. Soon one finger returned to the other hole and she tensed. Without delay he entered her anus and explored it as well. She squirmed under his examination, slipping and sliding on his leg, embarrassment giving way to humiliation. Vivode or not, he had no right to invade her like this, and she was about to tell him so.

  He removed his finger and again she felt that sensation of emptiness. "You are indeed fresh, fortunately for you, else I would think my time wasted, although time has altered for me."

  She had no idea what he meant.

  "Answer me truthfully, girl. Your skin is soft and unmarked. Do your parents not liberally employ the whip and paddle to control your rebellious nature?"

  She was shocked. "My lord, my parents are kind. They believe in reason over brutality. I have never been physically punished in my life." In fact, her parents, unlike the other parents in the village, refused to raise a hand to their child. It was another reason why the family was looked on with suspicion.

  "Intriguing." His voice grew cold and hard, freezing her to the bone. "But that will no longer be so as the moon streaks the sky this night."

  It occurred to her then that she had encountered a formidable wall which would not permit her to pass. There would be no escape yet she did not understand how to submit to her fate.

  He balled the end of her nightdress and stuffed it into her mouth so that even if she did cry out, no one would hear her. Rescue now seemed impossible. She was at his mercy and hoped he would show some to one as innocent as she knew herself to be.

  His hand came down hard on her bottom, stinging her skin, and she jolted. A muffled sound escaped her lips. The sensation was unfamiliar but not unpleasant. For a moment she felt a hot hand-print on her backside, then warmth radiate out from it. She could still not gain a footing because he held her awkwardly and her struggle only raised her bottom into the air, as though it begged to be spanked. The next smack came quickly, followed by a third and a forth. Soon the spanks rained down on her pristine cheeks.

  She buckled and rode his leg, her backside tense, struggling to avoid the hard spanks, but there was nowhere to go. His hand was like rock. It seemed to know precisely where to strike to cause her the most pain. And strike it did. Unpredictably. Continuously. She pleaded with him to stop, but her mouth was full of fabric and he could not or would not understand her. Because external struggle proved futile, she determined to resist him internally.

  He spanked each cheek separately, aggressively, the undersides hardest, his palm knocking against her slit. This cannot go on! she thought. The stinging had long ago turned uncomfortable and was becoming unbearable. She must wake from this dream any second! And if it was not a dream, her mother would arrive home soon and put a stop to this. And desperately she thought: surely he will tire!

  But she did not wake, her mother did not return, and he did not tire but spanked her more energetically. Her bottom grew hotter, the stinging more severe, forcing tears to her eyes and muffled cries from her throat. She could not stand this heat and the sharp pain that brought it. He spanked and spanked and she sobbed and sobbed, her determination not to succumb crumbling rapidly. A
nd when suddenly the resistance inside her gave way. The moment she admitted to herself that he had mastered her, he stopped.

  Her ass pulsed with torturous heat. Oh, if only he would throw cool water on her to dim the sparks!

  He lay her on the bed on her back. The rough wool blankets scratched her raw skin and she started to sit up, by his weight pressed her down.

  His body was hard and heavy on her young frame. She felt the air would be crushed from her lungs any second and she would suffocate. His lips captured her left nipple and sucked and pulled it up. He tortured the nub until it ached and swelled and she moaned, instinctively grinding her well-spanked bottom into the prickly blanket.

  While he held her captured wrists above her head, his knees pried her legs apart. He pulled the cloth from her mouth and his wide lips covered hers. He tasted coppery and male as his tongue plundered into her mouth, filling it with a new sensation. She could not believe that she was submitting to this, and yet she worried now that she would wake, or her mother would return, or that he would stop what he was doing to her.

  He reached between them and she felt something emerge from his pants. Fleshy. Large. The end of it was not sharp but round and firm. He used his hand to poke this against her gaping slit.

  "Sire, you must not!" she breathed, terrified.

  He stopped, obviously taken aback by her words. "If I have not tanned you well enough, you have only to ask for more."

  "Oh my lord, you have set my bottom on fire. I meant that I am a virgin, as you know. I will be dishonored."

  "And is it a dishonor for the vivode to breach your hymen?"