Darker Passions: Dracula

by Kilpatrick, Nancy

  "Let me go!" she shrieked. "Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me again! I belong to Count Dracula, and him alone."

  "Mina, you don't know what you're saying."

  "I do. I am going to him. Tomorrow."

  Crying uncontrollably, she broke away and raced from the room, leaving me standing with a chestful of wounds and a heart wound much deeper.

  What had happened to Mina, I could only guess. How had she come to this state? Granted, it was preferable to the diluted creature who had greeted me, and yet this was not behavior that appealed to me. Had her frustration lessened, I could have withstood the storm. It was as though a bottomless cauldron of ire raging within, feeding the torrent, being fed by the torment, and so on, and would never subside. I knew as well as I knew my own name that the Count had used her in some despicable manner for his own purposes and that was the root of such insanity. Yet what to do about it, if anything, eluded me.

  But I also felt self-pity creeping in. What was I left with? A wife who resembled a faded rose, or one who was all thorns? I wanted neither.

  "Sir?"

  It was Hodge. "Yes, what is it?" I asked, too distraught to do more than right my shirt.

  "Much has happened of late and I have had my own observations. If I may speak freely, sir."

  "Please do."

  We spoke for the next hour, after which much that had confused me on arrival became crystal clear.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jonathan. Thinking about him enraged me. How I despised him! He was weak, unbearably so. Not like Count Dracula, who thrilled me with his power. The Count understands what a woman needs.

  I had made up my mind; tomorrow I would leave by train for Transylvania. It was a frightening action and I didn't know how I would travel the rails alone, for I had never heard of a woman doing so. Even Lucy would not engage in such an activity, except in England and perhaps France, but never through some of the more primitive countries en route between England and Transylvania.

  Lucy. Her very name drove me insane. She had everything, I nothing. I blamed her, perhaps unfairly, for being at the core of my frustration. Ever since my arrival at Whitby, Lucy had taunted me, driven me to a pitch and yet allowed no release. But not her only. The others conspired as well: Dr. Steward, Arthur, Quincey, Professor Van Helsing. Even Verna contributed. All but Count Dracula, who raised me to such heights as I had never before reached.

  I refused to stay with Jonathan. He was not a man but a boy, incapable of satisfying me, and I did not wish to waste my life being unfulfilled.

  If I was destined to share the Count with Lucy and all the others in order to gain release, then so be it. I would reside in a harem, one of many women and probably men that the Count favors with his attentions. Something is better than nothing. Jonathan be damned!

  When Jonathan joined me for dinner, he acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. His face was marked from the switching I gave him. Would that I'd had more and younger branches and he would have been left with no face at all!

  We sat at opposite ends of the long dining table while Verna and Hodge served us a mutton stew with fresh bread and sweet butter. We did not speak until dessert, when Jonathan began to talk about his trip.

  "I must tell you, Mina, it has now been my experience that there is much to be learned from other cultures. I think we in England tend to feel we are the most advanced nation on the face of the earth, but this is not so. Others have knowledge we might call primitive, and yet it holds a wisdom all its own which in the end is greater than what we know in our minds. I expect I will be going on business trips several times a year in future and hope to glean new ideas in my travels."

  I sighed, bored with him and his heady recipes for wisdom.

  "I feel a headache coming on," I said. It was a lie, but I loathed being in his presence and preferred my own company.

  "Before you go," he said, standing, "I think we should discuss your trip."

  Leave it to Jonathan to discuss my 'trip' as though it were a visit to the market and not a trek half way across a continent.

  "I don't believe there is anything we need discuss," I said curtly.

  "On the contrary, Mina. Of course, you realize the dangers involved in traveling alone, once you leave the more civilized landscapes."

  I had not wanted to dwell on this. In fact, I was afraid. Women just did not travel alone through much of the world. And yet, what could I do? "I shall manage," I assured him, although I could not assure myself.

  "As we are still married, it is my duty to accompany you."

  "I'm afraid that's not—"

  "Mina, I insist. You do not know the route and I do. You are still my wife and to this extent I shall be responsible for you. Once delivered to Castle Dracula, you are on your own. This will eliminate both of our worries and perhaps bring an amiable end to our relationship."

  While I had an immediate resistance to such a plan—and the idea of traveling with Jonathan for a good ten days did not at all appeal—still, I saw the merits. I was obsessed with Count

  Dracula, even I knew that. And yet I was still practical enough to realize that accompaniment on the journey would expedite matters considerably. I spoke no foreign languages, while Jonathan spoke several, or enough to get by. Purchasing passage, food, shelter, all of it would prove extremely difficult.

  And truly, I owed him the time. After all, we were wed, if in name only. Any remnants of guilt I felt about leaving him would surely be washed away by being in his company for a prolonged period of time. He could not sway me. And he was too reasonable and passive a man to attempt to demand anything in the way of marital rights from me. It seemed the best solution.

  Jonathan looked relieved when I agreed. "Good," he said in his tolerant manner. "I shall be in charge of all the arrangements, if that is agreeable to you."

  I nodded.

  "What time does the train leave for London?"

  "Eight in the morning," I said.

  "Right. I shall sleep in the other guest room and see you on the morrow."

  He left the room without further ado.

  I must confess to a foolish feeling. A sliver of disappointment imbedded itself in me that he should let me go so easily. And yet I knew that was silly. Jonathan was not made of the right stuff, at least as far as I was concerned. He couldn't help it. He was weak and it was his nature to avoid going against the grain.

  Again, I realized how empty my life with him would be and felt renewed in my decision to find Count Dracula. He was my only hope.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Our train left Whitby Station on time and arrived in London at 9 a.m. I persuaded Mina to stop off at our home, although she was against it, imagining quite likely that I would use force to imprison her there. Nothing could have been further from my thoughts.

  While she packed the steamer trunk—for finally common sense prevailed and she realized she would need clothes—I went to the bank and did a few other errands, including shopping in London's more notorious neighborhoods. By noon we were on the train to Dover.

  The trip across the English Channel proved pleasant, for the weather was clear. I stood at the fore rail inhaling the sea breezes as they coursed through the narrow passage that is the closest link between England and the Continent.

  Mina stayed inside, avoiding me, I could tell. Finally we arrived in France and boarded the train for Paris. We arrived at La Gare Centrale in time for dinner but decided to buy a picnic lunch and take it with us so as to continue on, travelling overnight, which was to my liking. I purchased tickets to Barcelona, with a stopover in Carcassonne, near the Spanish border. That town provided a large English-style hotel where we could spend the following night.

  Mina and I arranged ourselves in the first-class compartment as the train pulled out of Paris. At some other time I would have enjoyed a night in Montparnasse, but for now that would have to wait.

  At the outskirts of the city, the ticket taker opened the compart
ment door to collect our tickets, which I held. As I handed them over, I told him in French that we would like to be alone and inquired if there was a way to arrange that. With a wink, he assured me a sign on the outside of the door would alert everyone that this compartment was unavailable and would see to it immediately. That suited me.

  Mina sat primly on the edge of the long seat opposite, for the compartments could hold six adults easily. She stared out the window but her mind was elsewhere. Her body was rigid, her face set. If she had been tense yesterday, today she resembled in spirit a band pulled so taut that it might snap at any moment. "Mina."

  She turned her head to stare at me with vacant eyes. The circles beneath them had widened. Obviously she had not slept well. I, on the other hand, had slept like a log, anticipating the journey ahead.

  "I'm curious," I said. "Count Dracula. You know he is a vampire. He has taken your blood. Do you resent him for this?"

  I knew full well the feelings she would have, as I had been a donor myself.

  "Of course not!" she snapped. "If I felt that way, would I be anxious to reunite with him?"

  "Perhaps not. But perhaps. After all, he has abandoned you."

  She gave me a disgusted look, as though I were a fool incapable of understanding the obvious.

  The train had reached a good speed. The rattle and bang of the steam engine, the clanking of the wheels against the track, the whistle blowing, all of these sounds combining made conversation difficult if not impossible. Besides, Mina had closed her eyes, perhaps from exhaustion, possibly to avoid further discussion with me. I used the opportunity.

  I opened the overnight bag on the seat beside me which I'd brought from London. Inside, next to the comestibles, were items I had purchased. I took out a rawhide loop, shaped a bit like the alchemical symbol of infinity, although there were in fact two distinct pieces of leather involved. Each ovals had one loose end that went through a leather bar in the center with a hole in it. By pulling the two loose ends, the ovals would tighten.

  Although Mina appeared to be sleeping, I knew that the slightest touch from me would wake her. I moved quickly.

  I slipped one oval over one of her hands and pulled both of her arms behind her back.

  Her eyes flew open. When she realized what was happening, she struggled. But by then, I had the second oval around her other wrist. At that point it was easy to pull the loose cords and contract the ovals, effectively binding her wrists together.

  "Jonathan, what do you think you're doing?"

  "A woman of your intelligence should be able to figure that out."

  "I demand to be released this instant!"

  As I reached into my bag I said, "Your demands no longer carry weight with me, Mina. However, feel free to make them, but know they shall not be met."

  "This is an outrage," she cried as she saw the smooth wooden paddle I extracted from the bag. It was made of solid birch, a fine hardwood, long lasting. The wood had been finished with shellac, giving it a glossy appearance and a slight yellow tone.

  I looked at Mina. Her eyes were large and round, as if she could not fathom just what I had in mind. And yet there was a spark to them that told me she not only knew but indeed was looking forward to realizing my intent.

  I pulled her across the compartment and across my lap. She struggled and kicked at the wall facing the corridor, meanwhile calling me all the names a lady of her bearing should be loathe to utter.

  Slowly I lifted the long skirt of her wool travelling suit.

  Beneath were two petticoats of white cotton, and I raised those also. Her plain cotton bloomers were next. These I lowered to mid-thigh level.

  What I had exposed was my wife's wholesome white bottom. I had in our short and joyless marriage never seen her naked and was delightfully pleased with the low rounded cheeks that greeted me. I ran my hand over the cool flesh.

  "How dare you!" She struggled, attempting to strike me with her bound hands. I grabbed them and held them steady, meanwhile exerting pressure by forcing them down onto the small of her back so that she could move little more than her legs.

  "This is a local train, not an express," I advised her. "We will be stopping regularly to pick up passengers and to allow others to disembark. While the train is in motion, feel free to cry out—no one will hear you. While the train is in a station, however, you will be silent."

  "The moment we arrive at the next station, I shall immediately call for help."

  "I hope you're prepared for your help to view your bare ass."

  That gave her pause. Finally she said, "I shall suffer that indignity to be free of you."

  "I might remind you, Mina, I am carrying the money and tickets. There are places along this route where a woman would not wish to be stranded penniless. And how would you explain yourself anyway? You've left your husband to go where? And to reunite with whom? Think about it, Mina. The mentality of the south is to frown on such behavior. And I need not add the reactions as we head east."

  She paused to consider all that I had said. Then, "You're not meaning to spank me all the way to Carcassonne?"

  "I mean to give your bottom the attention it deserves all the way to Transylvania!"

  She inhaled sharply and a quiver passed through her. She did, however, stop kicking the wall.

  "You can't be serious," she murmured softly.

  The train was slowing. We were pulling into a station already. This I had not anticipated. If Mina cried out now, the game would surely be up. But to my amazement, she kept quiet, except for further questions.

  "This is jealousy, isn't it Jonathan? You are attempting to dissuade me."

  "Certainly not."

  "You want to punish me."

  "Incorrect."

  "Then what?"

  "I merely wish to indulge a long-standing desire. I am not the same man who left you, Mina. The one who holds you across his knee so securely has learned a great deal from his travels. You did, if I am not mistaken, agree to this journey on my terms."

  Her voice rose sharply as the train began to move out of the station. She knew time was short and wanted to delay the inevitable. "Your terms yes, but that had to do with the arrangements. Not this."

  "These are the arrangements I have made, and you will submit to them. You have no choice."

  That silenced her and sent another shiver running through her body.

  Once we picked up speed, the ear-splitting railroad sounds increased so that I could begin without fear of Mina being heard. I spanked her behind briskly with the paddle, on one cheek only. Immediately her bottom began jumping into the air. This response I found satisfying. I knew the crisp bite the birch produced. The pain was harsh, not easy to take, and she did not take it well. Within seconds she was sobbing loudly, but I felt certain no one on the other side of the door could hear her.

  I confess I found immediate reward for my labors. It seemed I had learned from my experiences. As my arm achieved a rhythm bringing down the paddle, I began to understand something of what motivated the Leader of the cult. I felt a glimmer of the fulfillment he must have experienced. Also, there was titillation in the sharp sound. My action produced an immediate reaction, a reaction I and I alone controlled.

  The ride to the next station lasted approximately seven minutes, a disappointingly short trip. I used the time well, though, to vigorously apply the wood to that one cheek only. It reddened nicely, a sharp contrast to the white cheek, like red and white roses side by side.

  As we pulled into the station, my paddle stilled. I began to rub her hot ass cheeks. Mina's sobs, however, subsided but a little, enough, though, that she wouldn't be heard by any but me, which was as I wished it to be.

  While we waited for the train to move, I explored her cunny and her asshole with my fingers, assessing what each could incorporate.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  "Jonathan! Have mercy!" I begged him between each station to cease and if he would not stop to at least lessen the agony by giving my o
ther cheek the same degree of attention, for to be paddled on one side only is unbearable.

  The pauses at the stations were never long enough and yet they were too long. Biting pain swelled out from that one dear spot he worried until the entire cheek filled with pulsing soreness. I felt as if someone had scaled my hide. And that hide he rubbed and caressed, turning the painful scorching into warm, pleasant sensations.

  And while I waited in dread for the train to move and with it the wooden paddle, Jonathan probed my openings in a cold and disinterested way.

  But the moment the train reached full steam again and Jonathan resumed belaboring that wretched spot, I could not believe his passion. He was determined and had his own agenda, one apparently independent of mine. "Surely my skin will crack, if it has not already!" I cried, but he ignored my complaint and the paddle did not miss a beat.

  How he controlled me! I swooned from pain so harsh it assured me I could do nothing to halt him. And between stations the licking evolved into the most delicious heat. I knew not why he was spanking me so fiercely for I could not understand his answers. And yet anguish kept me from dwelling on the questions.

  I had been whipped by Verna and Lucy, but never like this! The paddle bit me, it's sharp teeth gnawing my skin again and again, leaving me raw, and nothing I could say or do swayed him. By the time we reached Carcassonne the following morning I was limp with exhaustion but at last I had given myself over to the paddle and accepted it as my reality. While that did not bring relief, the surrender did afford a peculiar pleasure and peace of mind.

  My entire body rocked with suffering too sweet to bear.

  My eyes had cried a thousand tears and could cry no more. And yet they were clear now and I was seeing Jonathan as if for the first time.

  He had never appeared so handsome to me, so strong. His body was muscular, filled with radiant energy, as if he were a sun god, capable of whipping that ball of fire through the sky.