Gift of the Nightflyer

by Sultry Summers

  Ignatio pulled Lady Leslie roughly to him, his intense amber eyes looking into her suddenly frightened blue ones. “I hunger!” he said plainly. “What do we do to feed?”

  “Come, I will show you!” Leslie answered, her body quaking with fear, but she dressed quickly. Count Ignatio Magonoff would be worse than the one who had sat on the cliff and waited for his last sunrise. He would never let her go and Leslie knew it. She caught his eyes as he watched her dress, a sadistic gleam in his intense eyes. “Let us go, I hunger also.” Leslie told him, dawn not far away

  Chapter Four

  Leslie stood next to Ignatio on the ledge of the open window, in his bedroom suite. Not far in the distance, a lead wolf called to his pack in the full moon’s light. Leslie joined his call this time, surprised when Ignatio added his own voice. He smiled and his new fangs gleamed.

  “I have always wanted to do that,” Ignatio said with satisfaction. He scanned the darkness, amazed at the things he could now see, that last night had been invisible to him.

  A great horned owl landed on a nearby branch, their eyes met, one predator to another. Ignatio felt a new sense of respect for the animal. A mouse scampered across the yard and the owl dove, killing the rodent instantly, then flew away with his dinner.

  “So it is with us, Ignatio,” Leslie said softly. “However, we hold the power of life and death, tempered with compassion. We do not need to kill to feed.” Her hand touched him tenderly. “Remember the gossip of the strumpet and the drunk who were found unconscious in their bed? I stood and watched them frolic before I fed from both of them. I didn’t have the heart to kill them, so I let them live. They did not see me because it was dark,” she explained. “They suffered no harm other than a long sleep in each other’s arms.”

  “Why did you kill the shepherd?” Ignatio asked.

  “That wasn’t me it was one of the others.” Leslie told him.

  “How many of us are there?” Ignatio was incredulous.

  “Many in our world, but only ten or so in this area, one more now,” she smiled sweetly. “But you hunger, as do I, we should go before the sun catches us and besides you have much to learn. First and most importantly, the sun means sure death to us.” Before he could stop her Leslie dove from the window and changed before his amazed eyes into a graceful, delicate buff-colored bat. She swooped before him invitingly. “Come” her tiny voice invited, “you will change the minute your feet leave the window, it is most pleasant.”

  Ignatio bravely stepped off the window ledge and felt the change overtake him. He had expected to fall, but instead he floated. “Leslie?” he called. “What do we do now?”

  “Land on the ground,” Leslie told him and she lightly touched the ground, instantly returning to the beautiful lady that she was. Moments later Ignatio stood beside her dressed in his impeccable style his cloak billowing around him. Lady Leslie’s carriage pulled up beside them and both climbed in.

  Leslie’s driver stopped the carriage on the outskirts of town. Leslie and Ignatio left the carriage. Ignatio followed Leslie’s lead. She kept to the shadows, occasionally stopping to be sure they ‘blended’ with their surroundings and remained hidden. She stopped to watch two obscene, bawdy men who came running from the same tavern that Leslie had found the couple leaving. The tavern owner came running after them, yelling for help saying that the two had robbed him. Both ran down the alley where Leslie and Ignatio had hidden. When the two men approached they couldn’t pass either Leslie or Ignatio and were stopped cold, each man grasped by the throat.

  Ignatio looked hypnotically into his victim’s eyes, seeing disbelief in the man’s eyes quickly changing to realization, then terror. His victim mesmerized by the pure bloodlust in the Count’s eyes dropped his ill-gotten gains, his hands numbed by sheer fear. Ignatio had been a strong human, now his strength was tremendous. He picked the man up by his neck with one hand, the criminal’s feet dangling, as Ignatio drew his victim toward an isolated niche between two structures. Ignatio looked up quickly, to see that Leslie had done the same thing with her victim. The Count’s eyes changed, taking on a glassy, animal-like appearance of one about to feed. Ignatio opened his mouth, his enlarged canines now becoming hollow, elongated fangs. With the force of a hungry lion, Ignatio drove his fangs into the criminal’s neck. He felt a surge as the man’s warm blood filled his mouth and he gulped down the rich fluid. Pumped by his heart, the man’s life fluid drained, when he reached unconsciousness, Ignatio eased his grasp as his victim’s body went limp. He then lowered him to the ground. Ignatio stood, straightened his apparel, and stared, amazed at how pale the man had become.

  “Did you take his last drop?” Leslie asked, as she came to stand next to Ignatio.

  “I don’t know,” Ignatio said. As if to answer their question, the man drew a breath, groaning. “I guess not.”

  “Good, it’s always better not to kill your victim,” Leslie commented. “In that manner, their death will not be on your conscience.” Leslie took Ignatio’s hand and led him back to their carriage. Not far away, Leslie’s driver waited to drive them home. After she seated herself in the carriage, Leslie cast Ignatio an unnoticed glance. She wondered if he would want another romp in bed before they retired for their rest. Leslie kept her silence and her distance. She was tired and he was a demanding partner, his words after he was changed, still haunted her mind. Leslie had not expected him to be so possessive. Lady Leslie had known Count Ignatio Magonoff would view his new ‘world’ from a different perspective the next day, she had just not expected how differently.

  He rose late and re-evaluated his situation and place in the universe. He dismissed all his staff but his valet, housekeeper, a stable keeper and two maids who had been in his service since childhood. He gave the other servants a year’s wages each and a good letter of reference. Shocked, his faithful servants failed to understand why the Count had done such a thing. He closed most of the manor, now his needs were simple. He could not bring himself to sell Thor or Thor’s mother and he kept his coach horses but all the others he sold to a well-known breeder who was thrilled to own such fine animals.

  Since the arrival of the beautiful Lady Leslie, rumors and gossip had dispersed rampantly through the small busy township. When the highly social Count had dismissed his long time servants and become suddenly reclusive, new rumors had flourished. Then, with the resignation of his personal valet accompanied by that of another maid, the townsfolk had become fearful of their once-respected Count, not knowing which rumor could be true. Many thought that the Count was bankrupt; but that theory didn’t explain the blood-drained deaths or the attacks on the locals. With the exception of his housekeeper, a maid, and Leslie’s driver Carloff, the manor now had no other servants.

  Ignatio’s shepherds were ordered to sell his flocks of sheep or told they could purchase them if they had the coin. Either way, the Count wanted to be rid of the responsibility. He ordered his accountants to settle his other affairs and provide him with a summary of his wealth, which was appreciable. Ignatio had always been a simple man, his breeding, and his station in life dictating the image he presented. Now there was no longer a need for that image. Finally, Count Magonoff had always been one to attend Mass and church regularly, he had been raised in the Orthodox Church, and he had always been devout. He had been serious about marriage when he had asked Leslie to marry him, now that was no longer an issue. Occasionally he would miss a Sunday, but he had always set an example for his people. By the third missed Sunday, the Bishop of the Church paid the manor a visit late one afternoon. However, Bishop Rasputov’s reception was cold. Katrina, the housekeeper, answered the door, her anxious expression should have warned him. However, as a man of God his duty was to attend to the souls of his flock.

  “You’re Grace,” the housekeeper greeted him and he detected a hint of fear and trepidation in her voice. She did not stand aside to allow him entrance, which would have been the normal custom.

  He noticed a chill about the man
or that had not been present on his last visit and felt the hand of the Evil one present. “I am here to see his lordship, Count Magonoff, if he is home?” His Grace was not to be dissuaded by such a presence he was protected by the Cross.

  “He is and in the study, I shall announce you, please wait here.” She allowed him into the foyer. She hesitantly walked away, stopped, cast him a weary eye over her shoulder, and wondered if she should warn him, then continued.

  “Milord,” Katrina, the housekeeper said to the Count, nervousness crept into her voice, “His Grace, the Bishop is here to see you.”

  Ignatio looked up slowly from a book he had been reading. Lady Leslie, startled, looked up also from a sampler she had just finished. A slow gleeful smile lit the Count’s face. The Bishop was a pompous man, overly full of himself and this afternoon the Count would deflate him a bit.

  “Show the good Bishop in, Katrina, and do not worry, I certainly would not harm a man of God.” He assured. The Bishop was unaware of his new situation in life. She turned and went to fetch the Bishop.

  Bishop Rasputov walked into the study pompously, his gaze shifting left and right, his robes flowing slightly above the floor tiles, just touching the heavy Persian rugs. The Count rose from his heavy, leather-covered chair, his eyes fixed on the holy man, drawing the Bishop’s eyes to his. Inwardly the Bishop recoiled when he looked into the Count’s eyes, never had he seen eyes like that. His eyes reflected the low light of the study like an animal’s eyes, with a red reflective sheen in them. Bishop Rasputov shivered and crossed himself.

  “Good evening your, Grace,” the Count greeted him. “Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Lady Leslie Anastasia Romanoffski.”

  “Lady,” the Bishop said politely and shivered again, her eyes were the same.

  “Perhaps Lady Leslie is the reason we haven’t seen you in Church lately?” the Bishop smiled. “And, perhaps we will have a wedding to celebrate soon?”

  “Perhaps,” the Count granted with a toothy smile, not quite revealing his fangs.

  “As the Bishop of the Church, I was becoming concerned with your absences, your lordship.”

  “Your concern is admirable, Your Grace; however, we won’t be attending services any longer.” The Count told him firmly.

  “May I inquire as to why?” The Bishop drew himself up with indignation.

  “Lady Leslie and I will no longer rise early enough to attend,” the Count smiled arrogantly.

  “Surely you can arise one morning a week to attend church,” the Bishop said haughtily.

  “Your Grace, our kind does not go into the sun. It is dangerous for us,” the Count smirked. “Now you have my answer, do not overstay your welcome.” The Count’s eyes had taken on more of a glassy, red animal glow. The Count stifled the urge to laugh in the Bishop’s face and reveal his full fangs.

  The Bishop turned and left, unable to put voice to his suspicions but knowing the Count and Lady Leslie were no longer human. Had this been a hundred years earlier, the Bishop would have had the power to kill the Count with the Church’s blessings. The Count managed to restrain his urge to laugh until the Bishop had left, then he and Leslie began to laugh, both knowing the man had no power over them.

  Travelers, who had often made their township a welcome stop on their tourist route through the beautiful Carpathian Mountains, rarely stopped any longer. The township no longer prospered and people began to move away, but Count Magonoff and Lady Leslie failed to really notice. They were careful to find their victims in the surrounding countryside, well away from their home, and, unlike many of their kind, generally left their victims alive.

  As Leslie had foreseen, Ignatio had become a powerful vampire but her vision had not prepared her for his increased sexual appetite or his growing need for dominance and control over her. Leslie never knew when Ignatio would demand her obedience, or to what extent he would compel her desire for sex. He seemed to know instinctively how to coerce the responses he demanded from her body and she had no control to deny him.

  Leslie entered Ignatio’s study late in the evening and, as usual, he was intently studying a medical journal. He had expressed his intention of finding a “cure” for being a vampire, shortly after Leslie had changed him. She knew he blamed her for his state rather than realizing it was a gift, or at least that had been her intent. Leslie hesitated to interrupt him; but it was drawing near the time they would normally go for their nightly feed.

  “Come here, Leslie.” Ignatio said when he heard her enter the room.

  Leslie drew a deep resigned breath; his voice sending both sexual arousal, accompanied by fear, through her. Since she had given him her gift, she had learned to dread that tone in his voice, knowing it meant that before they went out for the evening, she would spend some time satiating his heightened male needs.

  With slow feet, Leslie went to stand next to Ignatio, remembering a time she would have done so gladly. Ignatio slipped his hand beneath her deep red skirt and stroked her bare leg just above her knee all the way up to her now cleanly-shaven cunt. Shortly after his change, Ignatio insisted in keeping her nether lips shaved of all pubic hairs. He had left a short puff of blonde above her clit but none below. Ignatio complained they were in his way when he wanted to feed on her sex. Leslie remembered that night well, he had bound her to their bed. “Just for play,” he had said. Ignatio had taken out the shaving cup, mixed up the soap, and using his shaving brush, began lathering her pussy lips with a spicy smelling soap. The feathers of the brush had proved her undoing. He had teased her with the brush until she had almost climaxed. Ignatio had inserted two fingers inside her and moved them in-and-out. The soap was not particularly painful; but had stung and caused her to have a strong climax Ignatio had sucked on her breasts the entire time. Leslie had begged him to stop, but he had laughed and reminded her that some pain with sex was good.

  The glint of the straight razor had stilled her tremors from her orgasm and she had begged him not to shave her mound. Ignatio had laughed at her, his cock fully erect and threatening. That night had started much as this one. Leslie shivered as he fondled her shaved sex. He forbade her underwear now, as she must always be exposed for him. If she were not wet and ready, he sometimes would pinch her a bit, until her cunt would be red, swollen, and wet. Tonight he sat and read as he inserted two fingers inside her already wet vagina then drew them out, and again began rubbing her clit, bringing her to the threshold of an orgasm, stopping just before she came. Ignatio closed the book he held and stood.

  “Kneel, Leslie,” Ignatio commanded. His cold voice sending chills through her. Leslie did as he instructed. “Now release my cock and service me.”

  He seemed to enjoy the customs of the East that Leslie had introduced to him. Leslie kneeled before him, and did as she was ordered, just as he had once told her she would. She could refuse, as Ignatio had never forced, struck, or harmed her in any way. In their play, he had spanked her, never hard, but playfully. To her amazement, she enjoyed it. Leslie also enjoyed sucking his steel hard dick too and when he came, as he was ready to do now, she loved to drink down his creamy cum. Leslie heard him groan and as he spent himself, she gulped down the thick mass, licking the last drops, refastened his codpiece, wiping her mouth with the back of her delicate hand, she stood.

  “Let us go and feed,” Ignatio said to her with an affectionate smile. “When we come back, I have a treat for you.”

  Leslie smiled seductively, “What?”

  “When we return, I shall return your favors, plus I have a treat for you. But I will not tell you, you must wait.” Ignatio said with an inscrutable smile. Hand-in-hand they left the manor in the carriage for their nightly feed, careful as they always were, to drive to a village some miles away, to chose their meal from the lower of the street people. They were also careful to not take the lives of their victims but only to draw enough of their blood to satisfy their feeding needs, sometimes choosing more than one person, but always careful to leave the victim where they wou
ld be found and cared for.

  “Dawn draws near, Leslie,” Ignatio reminded Leslie as they sat in their carriage. He fondled her breasts, as the sky began to lighten. His sensitive hearing caught short, quiet, little gasps, telling him that her body was on fire with lust, still smoldering from Ignatio’s earlier play. He had fueled her passion intentionally, with the anticipation of the mysterious promised treat, and knew that he had heightened her arousal, when he stroked her with his cool hands, to find her sex already wet. Ignatio drew her mouth to his and kissed her deeply, suckling her tongue and leaving her weak and breathless. The promise of a pleasurable romp to come in his kiss, assuring that her body stayed aroused and ready for what he had planned. Inwardly he laughed, Leslie would not really like this treat at first, it would cause her some discomfort. Ignatio wanted her to have these two new pieces of jewelry before the next meeting of the “Vampires Anonymous Club,” as Ignatio liked to call the small group of other vampire that Leslie had introduced him too.

  The carriage stopped before the manor doors and Ignatio assisted Leslie’s exiting the conveyance. As any couple who had been out on the town, they walked arm-in-arm back into the house.

  “Okay,” Leslie said, “I want my treat,” she demanded like a spoiled child.

  Ignatio smiled indulgently “Soon my dear, go up and bathe. I’ll be up to join you and then you shall be given your treat.” Ignatio gave her a few minutes and joined her. “Leslie, you look lovely as always,” he told her. She wore a skimpy see-through robe tied in front. Perfect Ignatio thought. He went to her and kissed her passionately, smoothing his hands gently over her perfect body. Ignatio picked her up and placed her on the bed. He began kissing her neck, then down to her breasts, already aroused, her nipples were like hard marbles. He sucked on the deep fuchsia rosebuds through the thin fabric, waiting until her first moans of pleasure began and he knew she was under the spell of passion. He quickly slipped braided satin ropes around her delicate wrists before she could protest. Suddenly, Leslie panicked with the realization that she was restrained.