"There are far more exotic tortures that exist in our world, doctor, but one must submit to a worthy Master who possesses such knowledge."
They all spun towards the voice. Count Dracula filled the doorway, Mina Harker barely visible behind him, her hair askew, her eyes wide, her pink lips parted. In a moment John knew that she had fallen under the Count's spell.
"We have denied you access!" Van Helsing stated boldly, for obviously he knew to whom he spoke.
Dracula threw back his head and laughed, his long canines prominent. "Have you? And do you believe your brand is so mystical it cannot be overbranded? Perhaps your American friend will enlighten you on the intricacies of such proprietary markings."
Quincey admitted, "He's got a point, Professor."
"Silence!" Van Helsing said. "Be gone, fiend, back to the hell that spawned you."
Dracula not only did not leave, but now entered the room. He walked to Lucy, who hung limply from her restraints, although he carefully skirted around to her front and John had the impression the brand was effective.
Dracula took Lucy's chin in his hand and tilted her face up. She moaned and struggled to open her eyes. When she did and saw Dracula, she tried to turn her head at once to Van Helsing, whispering, "My Master!" but she was being held fast.
"I see," the Count said, a dark look crossing his severe features.
Foolishly, in John's eyes, Quincey and Arthur raced to Lucy's rescue. Dracula turned on them. With a look and pointing a finger to the ground, he snarled, "On your knees, insects, where you both belong!"
They collapsed before him, Quincey lowering his entire body onto the filthy floor wet with Lucy's excrement.
Dracula walked around the room as if he owned it. John had the clear impression he was thinking something through, and the moment John recognized that to be so, the Count shot a look in his direction that paralysed him. He felt like an impudent boy, slapped for asking too personal a question.
"What is it you want?" Van Helsing said. The Professor was no fool. He held the iron out, using the cross as a shield to protect both himself and Lucy.
"You are a man of science, I one of instinct."
"You are not a man at all, but an undead monster."
"Monster perhaps, but still man, Professor, as I'm certain Miss Westenra has confided in you."
"What is your point?"
"Both of us have mastered the dark arts, that is obvious, yet I am curious as to whether or not you believe your methods superior to my own."
"Can you not see for yourself? Lucy is mine."
"Perhaps for the moment. But you cannot keep her prisoner. You must sleep. On occasion you will fall ill. You are older than she and quite likely will die first, while I, I live forever."
John could see that these thoughts had already crossed Van Helsing's mind.
Dracula extended his boot to Quincey, who immediately began licking it dry. "If we were equally matched, I would propose a contest. To see which of us can be called Master Supreme."
"Idiotic," Van Helsing said, although John could tell the idea intrigued him.
"Of course it is. A competition. The winner to reap the reward." Dracula gestured towards the gorgeous woman suspended between the poles. "The one defeated would forever more vow to abandon his quest in her direction."
"Rubbish!" Van Helsing growled. "Why should I place what I already own onto the block?"
"If one is truly Master, loss of a slave is incomprehensible. Of course, you are not my equal, therefore this concept may be beyond you. Certainly the idea of a tournament is ludicrous."
Van Helsing turned his back to Dracula, which John considered a brave act indeed. The professor drew in a deep breath. "For the sake of argument, why should I believe you would hold to such a bargain."
"I would give you my word."
Van Helsing spun around and laughed. "And what could you possibly swear on?"
"The reputation of my house is still dear to me. Vlad Tepes was a warrior whose word was honorable, of that you must be aware. In this state after life as you know it, I will not disgrace my ancestors!"
The professor sat in a chair and studied Dracula, as did John. The nobleman exuded power and majesty—John could barely remain standing, the desire to fall at his feet and join Quincey at that filthy boot very nearly overwhelmed him. Dracula's eyes were dark orbs that seemed to swallow all the light in the room.
His harsh features indicated he could be merciless. John wondered how many he had killed in his time, in battles and in other ways, for history had recorded the legend of this infamous warrior count. He had staked thousands, punished thieves severely, been brutal to strong and weak alike. And now, in this corrupted state in which he existed, would any of the limits normal men acknowledge hold sway with this dangerous vampire?
John remembered the licking Lucy had received at Carfax, multiplied each night the Count had taken possession of her. John's rectum tightened and his penis hardened. To be punished in this way continuously, from sunset to sunrise, by one who would not respect ordinary boundaries...
Dracula turned sharply in his direction and John felt his neck and face flush. "Dr. Steward, when the opportunity presents itself, know that I will flay you within an inch of your life, or perhaps an inch on the other side of it!"
John felt the color drain from his face.
"Enough!" Van Helsing jumped to his feet. "You have proposed a competition and agreed to abide by the results. Winner take all and the loser will return home in defeat?"
Dracula's eyes smiled but his lips remained fixed. "As I said, Professor."
"And how do you see this competition? Are we to vie for Miss Lucy's loyalties?"
Dracula said coldly, "A pedestrian battle, do you not agree? During the daylight you would hold her, by night she would be mine. Any fool can predict that such a struggle would soon bore the combatants. No, Professor Van Helsing, I propose a match of a more interesting dimension."
"Then waste no more of my time and let me hear it."
The Count pulled his foot away from Quincey's hungry tongue and paced the room. "Your logic convinces you any man or woman can be swayed towards either dominance or submission, is that correct?"
"Yes, that is my theory, with certain exceptions, of course, but those are few indeed."
"On this point we agree, Professor. Lucy, of course, was a dominant, as the flesh of these three sniveling lackeys will confirm." Dracula looked with disdain at Quincey, Arthur and John. "But now she has swung to the other side, is that not so?"
"Again, sir, what is your point?" Van Helsing was growing testy and John began to sweat with nervous excitement. When the Professor was annoyed, he could be quite severe.
"Presumably your superior logic and intellect can return Lucy to her former state, or is this beyond your powers?"
The Professor paused. John knew that Van Helsing did not feel on solid ground here. Hadn't he tried to revive Lucy's cruel ways, only to find that impossible?
"Let me assure you, Professor, I can," Dracula said quietly. The gauntlet thrown, Van Helsing picked it up. "As can I, should I so desire."
A sly smile twisted the Count's lips for a split second and then was gone, and John wondered whether or not he had imagined it. "Another example might be Mrs. Harker. Can she be swayed to either end of the spectrum?"
Mina had been standing in the corner, forgotten as usual. John glanced at her. She seemed intrigued by all that was being said. She caught John's eye and the raw passion he found there burned through him.
"She is obviously a masochist by nature," the Professor said, "but to get to that nature would require far more time than I for one am willing to commit. She is encrusted with societal rules and regulations."
"I believe she is a sadist," Dracula stated flatly.
Van Helsing laughed. "Balderdash!"
Although he had not much experience with ascertaining natural inclinations, John agreed with the Professor. If anything, Mina exhibited signs of pas
sivity through her frustration and he did not see her in any way taking the reins.
"Then," the Count said evenly, "you would not object if I attempt to instill masterful qualities in her."
The professor looked shrewdly at the Count. "You wish me to revive Lucy's dominant nature while you inculcate the same in Mrs. Harker. I believe I know where this is leading."
Dracula nodded.
"All right," Van Helsing said. "How much time do you require for preparation?"
"An hour, perhaps two."
Van Helsing looked a bit jolted and John saw he had anticipated more than one evening would be available.
"Unless, of course, you feel your work will be the more substantial," Dracula taunted.
"I need no more time," the Professor said. "Dr. Steward will arrange an arena, if you are agreed."
"Excellent. Before sunrise we shall know the outcome. Are you prepared to live with the results, Professor?"
"It is you who should be prepared to exist with what will surely be your defeat."
"Defeat," Dracula said enigmatically, "takes on an entirely different meaning when one has lived many lifetimes."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Count took me to a grove close by the asylum. As we sat under a budding birch tree beneath the night sky, I lying in his strong arms, enfolded in his dark cape which obscured even that moonlight, I felt engulfed as in a womb.
I heard my own breath and only one heartbeat. My bosom was exposed within this larger encasement and he stroked and cherished my titties, drawing sighs from my lips. Juices flowed between my legs, aromatic, sweet and wondrous, and I felt secure in the knowledge that I, with Count Dracula's help, could satisfy my growing longing. As I drifted into a somnambulant state, sounds filled my being, words that I could not readily understand. The whisperings of ghosts on the wind filled me, penetrated me, directed me.
How long we stayed thus, I cannot say. But suddenly he roused me to my feet and we were walking back to the stone fortress that housed the insane. And Lucy. Truly she had become an obsession, I realized to my consternation.
He led me down past the basement where the confrontation with Van Helsing had transpired. We descended narrow stone steps, with a low ceiling. The air warmed considerably and the walls were moist. The scent of earth saturated my nostrils and as I clung to the walls for support I felt something scurry across my fingertips. My breasts were alive with sensation.
At the lowest level under the building, we walked down a corridor to a room at the end lit by lanterns. Within was a square cell made of intersecting wires, situated in the middle of this chamber. Around the outside of the box-like cell five chairs had been arranged.
Van Helsing stood in one corner of the room with Lucy. She wore a long rose-colored cape. That and the diffused lighting gave her cheeks a peaches-and-cream glow. For some unknown reason, that irritated me. Dr. Steward, Mr. Morris and Arthur Holmwood were also present, and strangely enough Mr. Renfield, his hands bound together in front of him. All turned as Count Dracula and I entered.
Dr. Steward joined us immediately. "The Professor felt it would be fairer to have an impartial bystander make the selection than someone more intimately involved. As there were no impartial persons on the premises whose discretion could be counted on, I took the liberty of asking Mr. Renfield to select an assortment of tools; in exchange, he has requested that he may be present for the event." Mr. Renfield would be discrete, I knew, because no one would believe him if he wasn't.
The Count nodded assent to the arrangements.
The door to the cage stood ajar and Dr. Steward escorted both Lucy and myself inside. "Undress, please," he told us. This I hadn't expected. Instinctively I turned to Dracula. His dark eyes bore deep into me, reassuring me, commanding me. I was not aware I was undressing until my skirts fell to my ankles.
I removed my shoes and stockings as well and turned. Lucy had only to undo the cape clasped about her throat, for she was naked underneath.
Her round body glowed in the candlelight. Her nipples stood erect, the aurora around them swollen. She looked at me with a haughty, wicked expression on her face. I knew that in the past such would have embarrassed me. Now I simply longed for the power to turn that expression into another, one that bespoke pain and submission to my will. One of humility.
"If you both are agreeable," Dr. Steward said to Count Dracula and Professor Van Helsing, "we will proceed as follows: None of the spectators may interfere. At such time as one of the participants assumes control of the other physically, restraints may be permitted. In fact, this is the natural order, for unless one controls the other sufficiently, no physical restraint would work."
The Count gave Dr. Steward a stern look, and a similar look came from Van Helsing. These two dynamic men would not be lectured to on the art of domination by one who frequents the bottom of an interaction. The doctor looked properly contrite; I had no doubt that later he would pay for his sins.
"The contest shall be decided," he continued, "when one bows to the other by verbalizing the term 'Mistress'. Are there points which needs be discussed? If so, we may debate them within a reasonable time frame."
"The outcome must be determined before sunrise," Count Dracula reiterated. "Other than that, I have no restrictions."
"Nor I," said Van Helsing.
"Ladies?" Dr. Steward asked us, gathering our clothing in his arms.
"No, John," Lucy said coyly. That very flirtatious quality which had so intrigued me in the past now brought my reproving nature to the fore. This girl needed governing. Obviously Miss Whippet and Dr. Van Helsing had failed; it was left to me to do the dirty business.
Before I could answer Dr. Steward, Lucy lunged. She grabbed my hair, twisting it in her fist. A fire seared my scalp and I screamed. She swung me around and slapped me hard across the face, then backhanded me the other way, her nails raking my skin. I clutched her free arm and twisted it behind her back. The pain of my hair being pulled was nearly unbearable, but I would not succumb. I slapped her bottom, the crisp sound resounding throughout the hollow basement, interlaced by John's cries, "We have not yet begun!" to which the Count replied, "You are, as always, redundant, Doctor Steward."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As John took his seat between Dracula and Van Helsing, the sharp sound of flesh against flesh rang through his ears. Mina had freed her hair, although Lucy still clutched a large clump of it in one hand. Lucy's arm were now pinned back behind her. Mina's bare hand came down loudly on those quivering ass cheeks. John, wedged as he was between two powerful masters both of whom were now displeased with him, felt caught in a vice of tension. The danger was palpable.
"Does this remind you of anything, Lucy? Of secrets shared and pleasures forbidden?" Mina asked in a voice so low John wasn't quite sure of the words. Lucy, her back and reddening cheeks in clear view, twisted and turned and quickly threw Mina against the cage wall. Mina bounced off the wire and was shoved onto the floor. Blonde hair flying, Lucy was on her in a second.
The revived fiery nature of his former Mistress excited John. He knew how quickly she could move, how extreme her actions could be. He envied Mina as Lucy straddled her, facing her feet.
Lucy reached for a paddle the size of a large wooden kitchen spoon but flatter, from an array of implements Mr. Renfield had strewn around the periphery of the cage. This she used to beat Mina's behind. The slimmer woman, unaccustomed to such quick and immediate pain, squirmed and struggled hard to throw her oppressor.
But Lucy was hell-bent on winning. Her weight squished Mina against the floor. John wondered how Dr. Van Helsing had accomplished this reversal in Lucy. He'd heard only some of the words spoken, and knew promises had been made, promises of a later fulfillment Lucy obviously craved, as evidenced by the vigor with which she applied the heavy wooden spoon.
Mina cried out and dug her nail into Lucy's thighs. Blood flowed from the angry red gashes. Finally Mina grabbed Lucy's long tresses and threw her off.
Rage darkened Mrs. Harker's face. If John could have interpreted the look it would have been along the lines that Lucy was about to receive a large dose of a very foul prescription.
Both women were dusted with the dirt from the basement's floor. The brown silt only added to the appeal of their bouncing, juggling tits and behinds.
Mina tackled Lucy and ripped the paddle from her grip, but then was instantly retackled. Lucy, who had always favored implements, wrenched the spoon back from her hands. She used this on the fleshy parts of Mina's shoulders and on her breasts. "Miss Whippet taught you well," Mina gasped as she struggled, "but you are in need of a refresher course." By a curious twist of fate, Lucy lost her balance and toppled sideways for no reason John could see. Mina got her chance.
She wedged Lucy between the wall of the cage and controlled her with body weight alone. She sat atop the prone Miss Westenra, who suffered beneath a short thick prod used in the asylum to goad inmates into a particular area. Mina, however, used it as a rod with which to whip Lucy. As Mina whacked her mercilessly, she said, "You want discipline, Miss, and you want it badly!" Lucy's face looked shocked, then ecstasy suddenly laced the agony. Her eyes appealed to Van Helsing's for understanding.
John glimpsed the Professor out of the corner of his eye. A man who abided by the rules, the Professor said nothing. He gave her no instruction. But the intensity of displeasure emitted from that stern face chilled John. Lucy felt that displeasure even more than he did. He could see it in her eyes—the helpless look of being trapped between two desires. She wanted to give herself over to the paddle, to live with it and allow it to control her completely until it became part of her. Her other, stronger desire was to please her Master, knowing that in the long run his paddle would be the more enduring.
With a strength that seemed to John inhuman, she shoved Mina away. In seconds she was on her feet. Muted brown matted her glowing bottom and the combination of colors excited him. It suddenly occurred to him that he had never been punished while lying on the ground, tasting the bitter-sweet soil, letting his tears turn it to mud that he lapped and sucked as he was flogged against the dirt, his cock fucking the earth itself.
Darker Passions: Dracula Page 15