by Dean Drinkel
“Get the fuck off me!” the man screamed but Lucien was different now, he was too quick, too strong. He pounded and pounded until the man fell to his knees. He tried to defend himself but Lucien was relentless, all he could do was put his hands up to protect his face and pray that the damage wasn’t going to be too bad, he had work in the morning and couldn’t turn up all battered and bruised. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cried.
But for him, it was too late.
Too fucking late.
“Tell me about this Kotcheff,” Lucien whispered as he held the man’s head in his talons and revealed his true self.
How the blood ran...
Interlude
“Drink...drink...please...” The Creator offered Lucien his wrist.
“No, I don’t want to; I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Please...” The Creator was quivering; his penis was also very very hard. “You will enjoy it once you’ve tried it.”
“You disgust me.” Lucien tried to back away but the Creator signalled and he was halted in his tracks. “I did try to make this easy for you, but if you want to be forced, I can force you.”
Lucien struggled but there was no escape for him.
“This is my blood,” the Creator began. He held his wrist over Lucien’s mouth, drops of the red stuff trickled onto the boy’s lips. Lucien was stubborn and wouldn’t open for him.
“Help the child,” the Creator commanded, the man did as he was told. “Yes, yes, that’s more like it isn’t it?”
It was impossible for Lucien to break free but peculiarly once the blood was in his mouth, on his tongue, there was something....
“Divine isn’t it?” The Creator beamed. “Feast my child, feast.”
Lucien didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed hold of the old man’s arm, pulled it closer to his lips; he gulped the ruby liquid down.
“Yes...yes....” The Creator’s eyes fluttered. “I know you want this as much as I...”
There was blood all over Lucien’s face now, his eyes had turned crimson.
“Have you ever seen such response?” the Creator asked. “Now...that’s enough, that’s enough...” He went to pull his arm away but Lucien held onto it. “I said that’s ENOUGH!” There was panic in his voice; he was changing a strange colour.
The dog was rabid, almost fighting with itself – it longed to get free!
“Get him off me will you?!” He was petrified. Several of the man jumped up on the bed, tried to wrench Lucien off him but he was stuck fast.
There was only one thing for it. The Creator put his knife to Lucien’s throat.
“NO!” One of the other men stepped forward. “Please don’t kill him, I beg you.”
Everyone turned.
“Why should I spare him?” the Creator asked.
“Because you love him. Because he is like you...”
The Creator stared at the boy latching onto his arm, drinking his blood at an alarming rate. “That is true. But that is not enough to spare him.” And with that, he slashed at Lucien, hacked at his flesh – once, twice, three times.
Lucien screamed in agony, he fell back onto the bed, releasing the Creator’s wrist...as the men stepped away. Lucien fell to the floor, landing near the dog which began to lick his face.
“I will deal with you later...STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” The Creator shouted as the man went to make a move. “There is still work here to be done.”
He put his wrist to his mouth, began to lap up his own blood. “You,” he motioned with his knife to Philippe. “You will be next.”
As Philippe stepped forward the Creator’s mouth opened and he revealed his true self...
...no-one in the room was surprised.
Eight
“I’m feeling horny. Do you want to fuck?”
“You know Isabella, you have such a way with words.”
The girl smiled. “But Henri, we’ve known each other for a while now so there’s no need for foreplay...” She opened her red silk kimono (with the open-mouthed dragon motif) just enough to reveal a hint of the pink flesh underneath.
He leant in kissed her, his tongue probed her mouth, and his fingers probed the mound between her legs. She was so wet. Willing.
“Let me get the blades,” he said as he disentangled himself from her. His growing bulge more than obvious in the white underpants he was wearing. He went to the wardrobe, pulled out Isabella’s ‘Pandora’s Box’. “I was thinking we could go all the way tonight,” he suggested.
“Are you sure? Are you ready?” She licked her lips.
Henri unfastened the two clasps, opened the box, searched through the items within, and took out a black velvet roll-bag which was tied by two scarlet ribbons. He looked extremely serious as he held it before him (like an offering, she thought) as he turned to face her. “Yes, I’m ready, it will be fun.”
Draping now over the easy-chair, both her kimono and legs wide open, she stared up, through the skylight above them. “And such beautiful timing, it’s going to be a full moon tonight.” She rubbed her hands together. “Wait on the bed, I’ll prepare everything...let’s make it extra special.” She paused. “For both of us.”
Henri handed her the roll-bag, she laid it down on the small card table. “I’ve got some champagne chilling in the fridge, I can get some glasses.”
Isabella shook her head as she turned down the lights. “No, no alcohol, our minds have to be clear, our thoughts must run free, to fully drink in the experience – no pun intended!”
“Fine,” he smiled. “You are the boss.”
“No, no,” she replied. “I am the High Priestess. Your enchantress. I am both your whore...and your virgin...”
Henri moved to the bed, looked-on as she went to each corner of the room. There was a small fetish, accompanied by a black candle and incense stick. She lit each in turn.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said as she bent over.
Very quickly the room was drowned with the aroma of vanilla, of rosemary, of jasmine and of ginger. It was a heady mixture of fragrances without a doubt and perhaps they shouldn’t have blended together but they did, in fact it was exceedingly pleasant. Isabella directed the thin wisps of smoke so that they headed towards the centre of the room, where the large bed lay.
“Let’s have some music, it will increase the sensation.” She went to the stereo system, picked up her MP3, scanned through the tracks. “Yes, this will do.” The opening bars of an operatic aria began.
Henri chuckled. The music was familiar...from his childhood if nothing else.
“How apt,” he whispered, then put two fingers to his mouth, symbolising fangs.
“We will keep the volume low; we don’t want it to distract us. Our focus will be on one another. As it should be.”
“It’s a perfect idea, and you know what?” he replied. “Perhaps I can contribute to our heightened experience...” He leant over the edge of the bed, found his discarded jeans, patted down the pockets, retrieved the small silver snuff-box.
Henri flipped open the lid, licked a finger, dipped it inside – when he closed the lid there was a small white tab on his fingertip, a tiny black butterfly embossed upon it. “I know you said no alcohol but I think this will exp...”
Isabella nodded. “No explanation needed, I totally agree. It will sharpen our senses.” She approached, knelt down, opened her mouth, she licked his finger, let the tab dissolve on her tongue. “And now you...”
“That goes without saying.” Without any need for ceremony, he opened the box again, took out a second tab, placed it in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he smiled.
“Kiss me,” she whispered. He held her head in her hands, kissed her on the forehead first, then her nose, then her lips, opening her mouth with his tongue. She returned the favour then pushed him backwards so he was lying down. Isabella reached over for the velvet roll-bag, unrolled it, the contents revealed – thirteen knives, blades of all shapes and sizes.
; “And who shall we begin with?” she purred. “Oh, yes, let’s try this.” She selected a large stiletto, gently pricked the end of her finger, a small dot of redness appeared. “Yes, this will do perfectly.”
Isabella turned to Henri, he hadn’t moved. She positioned herself so she was between his legs. She traced the blade from the sole of his foot, along his shin, up and over the knee, resting once she had reached the bottom of his underwear.
“I truly hope you are feeling what I’m feeling,” he muttered. “This stuff is fucking amazing.”
“I’m feeling everything you are and more,” she replied. She held the bottom of his pants tight to enable the blade to cut the fabric. Once she had some purchase she was able to draw the knife upwards, slicing the material as it went. Naturally she was careful to avoid the very hard penis which rested on his thigh and which was trying to force itself out! When she reached the elastic waistband, she had to put a little more effort in but the blade was sharp and it didn’t meet with much resistance.
Isabella then moved to the other leg and did the same. Once finished she put down the knife. Henri went to sit up but she rested a hand on his stomach and gently pushed him back. His penis now stood up straight and proud, the material of his underwear now resting upon it, normally she would have found that amusing but the acid was starting to really affect her and there, in her peripheral vision she was beginning to see things, not unpleasant things, but things all the same.
“I want to make you come,” she stated, forcing those images out of her mind. “Like you have never come before.”
It was true, she had so much magic to show him, he was never going to forget this night in a hurry.
For a moment, just for a moment, the tattoos on his arms, his chest, his stomach began to dance...
The aria was reaching a crescendo, the moonlight filtered through the skylight. Henri lifted his arm, let the dust motes waltz around his hand, his arm, he opened his fingers...
...using her mouth, her lips, her tongue, Isabella began with his toes, then the shin, the knees, the thighs...she kissed his stomach just under the belly-button, she took the shaft of his dick and caressed the tip through what remained of his underwear. He groaned in pleasure but also because he was overwhelmed by the motes they appeared to be swarming to him, latching onto the hair on his arms, singing...dancing...
“Is that good? Do you like that?” Isabella asked.
Henri grunted but she could tell by the way his chest rose and fell that he was enjoying it, enjoying it very much in fact.
“I’ll be as careful as I can,” she stated as she picked up the knife. She threw away what remained of his pants, his dick now standing very hard, very proud. She traced the blade along his inner thigh, over his scrotum, under his scrotum, the space there between his legs – she ran it down to the entrance of his ass. He flinched slightly
“It’s okay, I won’t fuck you with this...I have something else in mind for that,” she giggled.
“Suck me, please...please...” he whispered, his arm fell down by his side. His eyelids fluttered.
“Your wish is my command.” Isabella separated his balls with her tongue, then up the shaft, to the head, several beads of clear thick liquid appeared on his glans, she licked the end of his cock then gently lowered her lips over it, got as much of it as she could in her mouth.
“You are...fucking...amazing,” he sighed.
Suddenly though she broke off. “I don’t want you to come, not yet...” She rolled onto the bed. “This has to be mutual,” she grinned.
He leant over, kissed her. “Of course,” he replied, giving his penis a couple of strokes – fuck it was hard, it hadn’t been that hard in a long time.
Henri lifted Isabella so she was now completely on the bed, he moved her legs so he could get a better look between her thighs, at that lightly shaved pussy – he blew it a kiss, then went to the velvet roll-bag, he selected a knife for himself and sat at the pillow end of the bed.
“Your turn,” he smiled.
He felt each of her breasts, kneaded them, ran a wetted finger over both nipples, then using his tongue he sucked both until they too were hard. Isabella’s hand instinctively went between her legs, she began to rub her clitoris but he playfully knocked that away. “No, that’s my job.”
“Be my guest, my darling,” she said, resting her hands under her head. He kissed between those pert breasts, his tongue down to her slim tummy to her navel, to the soft pubic triangle that pointed downwards.
With his fingers he parted her inner lips, his head between her thighs, his tongue inside her; she rubbed the back of his head, pushing him deeper into those sensitive folds of her flesh, the most intimate areas. Christ, he really knew what buttons to press. With his other hand, he pointed the knife to towards her throat.
“Not yet,” she ordered, licking the blade. “I want you to fuck me a little first.”
“I’m more than happy with that idea.” He definitely wasn’t disappointed and he didn’t have to worry about losing his erection, he was just so damn turned on.
Henri shifted position so he was now kneeling between her. He grabbed her ankles – she was still on her back, but he was able to rest her legs against his body, her feet on his shoulders, he raised her bum slightly.
“I want you inside me,” she panted. “I want to feel your cock in me. Now. It has to be now!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He held his penis close to her vagina, so much heat emanated there and slowly, ever so slowly, for maximum enjoyment, he penetrated – first just the tip, then most of the shaft, then all the way, right to his balls. They both groaned in holy ecstasy as he began thrusting in and out of her.
Isabella touched his hand, took the knife from him. “You have inspired me...are you ready?” she asked.
Henri continued to pump, he lifted her higher so the angle was better...fuck, she really wanted this...the muscles of her cunt were working overtime, contracting around his dick, her breasts bouncing up and down...it was a schoolboy’s wet dream.
“Yes, I am ready,” he replied. And wasn’t that the fucking truth?
She held the knife as tight as she could. “Offer me something; offer me part of your soul. I am your body; I am your blo...”
Without giving it a second thought, he held out his right arm. Isabella grabbed the wrist, and then gradually drew the blade across it. Nothing happened initially but then a very thin crimson line appeared, which started to widen and widen, it grinned at her.
“Do I have your permission?”
He ignored her as he slowed his gyrating hips, beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his chest, other fluids smeared now on his belly, his thighs, the underside of her legs.
“Knock yourself out.” He hadn’t even baulked when she cut him but he did then, just a flicker, as she out his wrist to her lips – she began to drink.
“Fuck. Yeah,” he groaned. His movements slowed but once he started to enjoy that very strange feeling in his wrist, as the blood left him, he sped up again, careful of course not to hurt her, there was no need to be too rough.
He was sure he had heard the dragon on her discarded kimono roar...
“Now me,” Isabella commanded, dropping his wrist. There was blood still on her lips, her teeth stained red.
He took the blade from her.
“Where?” he asked a little nervously.
“Anywhere...I am a blank canvas...”
Henri frowned, wasn’t sure but then selected her leg, just up from the ankle. He put the knife to her and dragged the...
“You will need to do it harder than that silly boy,” she laughed. “You won’t even break the skin at that rate. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt me.”
“Yes, but I don’t want...”
“Do it, I want to the feel how much you love me.”
So Henri did as Isabella asked. He drew the knife across her leg, it sliced the flesh, quickly the blood trickled down her leg, it welled between her thighs,
it dripped onto his cock as it entered her. He licked at her wound, if it was possible he was now even harder! “I think I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come.”
She stared up at him, she was close too. There was something about this whole experience which was truly exciting her – the sounds, the smells, the colours...she was sure she was going to orgasm, something she’d never done with Henri before, it was only going to be a matter of minutes before both her body and soul spasmed in pleasure...bizarre though that only moments ago the moon had been visible through the skylight but now it had gone completely dark...must have been clouds or something...
“Henri,” she sighed, as she lost her sight in the tattoos that criss-crossed his flesh...
But he wasn’t listening; he was totally lost in himself, drowning in their mutual bliss. He was about to shoot and he just knew there was going to be bucket loads of the stuff.
“Henri,” Isabella repeated. Something in her voice had changed. No longer did it seem that she was enthralled with what he was doing to her, if he’d paid her a little more attention he would have realised...
....she pushed him away, but he only took that as a signal to speed up his pounding...
“No...Henri...you don...”
He fucked her faster, harder, rougher...his sinews stretched, his muscles taught, his heart beating rapid, he was alive, he was FUCKING ALIVE! He lifted the bitch much higher now so she was almost on his knees, his dick slipped out of her a couple of times but instead of carefully, respectfully, putting it back in, he forced it in as quick and as hard as he could...Isabella had no choice, she did the only thing she could think of without seriously hurting him: she slapped him across the face.
“Again,” he said.
“What?” Panic in her voice.
“Fucking hit me again you whore, make me fucking come!” His lips then at the wound on her leg, he bit into her.
“Fuck you!” Isabella hit him as hard as she could.