Darker Passions: Dracula

by Kilpatrick, Nancy

  While he arranged for our luggage to be carried to the hotel and for a carriage, I stood passively, half my bottom alive in a way I had not before experienced, awaiting his order.

  Sitting in the carriage produced tumultuous waves from my derriere that crashed through my body. I did not arrive at the hotel too soon.

  Jonathan ordered a breakfast to be sent to our room. While we waited, he had me undress and sit on the bed. I complied utterly; I would have done all that he asked.

  He looked to me now to be a stranger, haunting, dark in his manner, someone whose will was absolute, as strong as the iron tracks on which our train traveled and as indestructible, but that appealed to me. I was relaxed, for once, letting another lead me.

  While the food was brought into our suite, I wondered if the pulsing heat from my right cheek would ever subside. I doubted I would see its end that day, not after so many hours of paddling. And yet that notion felt delicious: throughout the coming day and night I would be aware of continuous heat. Chills rippling through me.

  We dined in silence on croissant, brie and black tea, although the last was nothing like the tea at home. I was naked and Jonathan fully clothed. I felt exhausted and but for the pain in my bottom could have closed my eyes and slept.

  When we finished eating, Jonathan told me to lie on the bed. He undressed. I had never seen his organ before and was in awe of its size and the power. I noticed a peculiar small gold rod dangling from the underside of his genitals. In shape it very much resembled Jonathan's own rod. I wondered if that jewelry had been there all along and I'd never noticed it. For some reason I found it exciting.

  He used the curtain ties to secure my wrists to the bedstead. I knew what he had in mind and my nipples hardened as I anticipated what he would do to me.

  He lay his head between my legs, which I spread eagerly. I felt heat there too. His cool tongue licked my opening from back to front, slowly. He repeated the movement, the broad rough flesh dragging over my anus and along my slit, making me quiver uncontrollably. My breath came in ragged gasps and my titties ached. When I felt I could stand his tongue no more, he used his lips to suck on the sensitive button at my front. I had not felt anything so pleasurable. He pulled and sucked and licked the fleshy nub, forcing my hips to dance and squirm, my swollen bottom growing sorer as I ground it against the stiff linen sheet. "Jonathan!" I called, his name bursting from some place deep within me, and felt embarrassed to be so loose.

  Now his tongue probed inside me, my opening hungry for that implement, welcoming it's darting action. Every pore of my flesh opened, thirsty for his quenching juices. I felt I must drink long and deep or die.

  Jonathan moved up my body, his organ spearing me, sliding into me fully. I gasped, penetrated, impaled, as if I hung suspended in the air, held to the earth only by his hot flesh in my tight wetness.

  His thrusts were steady, sure and deep, not permitting time to adapt to them before he increased the speed, driving me to new places within myself.

  I felt a place far inside expand. With each thrust, the head of his rock-hard organ kissed that spot and, like hungry lips, I opened wider. I wanted him inside me. As I acknowledged that, he drove into me fast and hard, banishing all thoughts from my mind.

  My knees bent and my hips rose to meet his. Jonathan forced my ankles forward until they were above my head.

  I lay completely exposed, spread before him, vulnerable to his desires, and my own. He pounded into me until I opened to him completely and then he truly entered me.

  I screamed his name, unable to stop myself. My body trembled and shuddered uncontrollably. Wave upon wave of pleasure broke over me and still he would not cease until both of us had been sated.

  We slept until sunset and when we awoke, Jonathan took me again. My primed body receive his pumping and he sprayed me well with his coolant.

  We slept and woke and loved again, and the next morning waited for the train to Barcelona.

  "Do you wish to continue this journey with me or alone?" he asked.

  The day was bright and clear. The night with Jonathan had been enjoyable but now that had faded and my longing for the Count surfaced. His face in my mind drew me as if I were being called across half the world and my destiny was tied to his.

  Jonathan did not matter to me and to convey that I said, "As you please. If you wish to accompany me, I will not forbid it."

  Once we were settled in our compartment, Jonathan called,

  "Mina! Across my lap, at once."

  I sat frozen. He could not intend to paddle me again. My cheek would be sore for days as it was. And after such a night of ecstasy! He no longer looked as appealing to me but had not reverted completely to the stuffed shirt he had been.

  He reached across the compartment and yanked me to him, angry that I had hesitated. Before much time passed I was laid bare across his knees once again. My bottom quivered in fear and anticipation.

  "Jonathan," I said nervously, "I do not understand."

  "There is nothing for you to understand. I wish to enjoy myself. I enjoy spanking you. I will spank you throughout the day, between stations."

  "But...but did you not enjoy our lovemaking?"

  "Of course I enjoyed fucking you. Use your head, Mina. If I didn't, would I have bothered to do it more than once?"

  "You said yesterday you will not try to change my mind. Is that still so?"

  "I am a man of my word, as you well know. I assured you I would take you as far as Transylvania. Did I not make that clear? And what does any of this have to do with anything other than that you are trying to delay the inevitable."

  "Not delay," I said, although I was. "I merely wish to understand."

  "Then understand this, Mina. Until we reach the Borgo Pass, you belong to me and I will do with my property what I wish. You may love me or hate me, enjoy your lickings or detest them, none of that matters to me at all. I will do as I please and you will please me."

  With that the paddle spoke to my other cheek, which answered immediately. I could not believe how quickly the stinging became intolerable, and yet I could do nothing but tolerate it. And I did. All the way to Barcelona.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  In Barcelona I again questioned Mina as to whether or not she wished to be accompanied further.

  She seemed to have entered an altered state of mind, like that of a mystic. I recognized this elevated state from my sojourn at the Sanctuary. In fact, traveling through the wine country reminded me of my visit there and the exquisite lessons I had learned. The ever-present metal lay cool against my hot balls, a constant reminder of how the Leader had charged me to not bring shame upon the Brotherhood. I took this responsibility seriously.

  Once again, Mina informed me that my company would not be discouraged and as I was enjoying myself and the little tableaus I had been enacting with my wife, I decided to continue.

  Mina and I boarded a Turkish boat that would carry us through the Mediterranean to Istanbul. We could have gone overland the entire way by the Orient Express in half the time, but this route seemed more interesting to me and I had a sense I'd been here before.

  As it turned out, the trip was rewarding in a different manner.

  The boy who moved our baggage into our cabin dropped my overnight case and the paddle fell out. When he saw it, he stopped in his tracks. His almond-shaped eyes widened. I did not speak his language but understood enough of his gestures to know that he wished me to accompany him.

  Down in the hull I met a small group of Turks playing a game much like dominoes. The boy said something to them. The four men looked at me curiously, nodding in silent approval.

  Finally one stood and retrieved a parcel from beneath his bunk. There were two objects, one long and slim the other short and fat, both wrapped in soft brightly-colored shammy-type cloth. He unwrapped the longer first. It was a cane about four feet in length, made of split bamboo. I'd heard of the bastinado, of course, and knew exactly how it was used, but never expected
to find one. Mainly it was a tool of torture, used on prisoners. The soles of the feet would be swatted softly for hours, causing the bottom of the feet to swell. The moment I saw it I knew I must have it. The other, smaller object, was one I was not familiar with, at least this particular type. The men, through elaborate hand gestures, indicated its use. This, too, I knew I must have.

  Through a complicated translation from the Arab dialect through the fractured French one of the men spoke, I was able to purchase these two implements for a reasonable sum. Delighted, I carried my prizes back to the cabin, there to find Mina asleep.

  She lay sprawled naked on the cot on her belly, her glowing bottom a testament to my skill and fortitude. I had found paddling her today even more exhilarating than the day before. Her bottom intrigued me, how the skin quivered and shook and altered color to the tune I played. This activity spoke to me and I felt as if I had at last identified my calling as a musician of sorts. The tortures I had suffered at the hands of the Count and the Leader had not been wasted. Those rituals of pain had matured me and I was ready to take my place alongside those two brilliant masters as a artist in my own right, an artist eagerly perfecting his craft.

  I looked at the woman lying atop the cot, most of her flesh white and creamy, her bottom as hot as two red radishes. Her long dark brown hair lay strewn across her back and the pillow—on entering Spain, I had insisted she wear it down from now on and cease constricting it into the old-maidish style Mina favored.

  When I had ended today's licking, Mina looked at me with large and liquid-filled round eyes. She appeared so vulnerable, so pried open. Nearly all of the despair that had permeated her being had vanished from her face, which was relaxed and soft now. Even her lips seemed fuller as they parted in an open, receptive manner. She glowed with a beauty I had not seen before, partly, I think, because it had not been brought out. It forced me to confront my errors of the past. My weakness had been a bane to her, my leniency and moderation like a wall that moved back as she leaned against it. Rather than supporting her, I gave way.

  Of course, Count Dracula had provided her what I could not. Until now. And although I had discovered my own strength, it was too late. Mina would be lost to me in only a few days, and yet I could not keep her prisoner.

  I unwrapped the items and lay them on the steamer trunk. Shortly I may not have her, but I had her now. And I would make good use of the time remaining.

  The smaller object was eight inches long, made of a fine-grained exotic wood. Shaped like an English cucumber and about as thick, it was composed of slates of wood interspersed with narrow openings, like a circular picket fence. One end was round, the other flat. The flat end contained a key and a metal ring.

  The Turks had given me leather thongs, and I tied three to the ring.

  I pushed Mina's knees under her, so that her glowing ass cheeks parted and lifted into the air. Exhausted, she moaned softly but did not wake. I knotted a forth thong securely about her waist.

  I was entranced with her openings. The mysterious crack that led from those plump moist lips into her tight hot cunny. Even as I watched, the shiny wet lips glistened in invitation. I would visit them again soon. The crack also led to her puckered hole, a pink island in a boiling sea of red, compressed, virginal. It was here that I had my work cut out for me.

  I picked up the smooth wooden plug and placed it at her opening. Mina still slept but another moan escaped her lips and that puckered opening contracted, as if she intuited what was in store for her.

  Slowly, over the next hour, I wiggled the wooden penis inside her. Her anus was tighter than I had imagined, but consistent pressure moved the plug further until it was half way in. I found the process delightful and did not mind spending the time. Mina groaned and cried out in her sleep but a smile spread across her face. She murmured and I bent low to hear her call my name.

  But the name she called was 'Dracula'!

  Infuriated, I forced the plug all the way in. Mina woke screaming. She was disoriented and while she came to her senses I tightly knotted the thongs from the ring to the one around her waist, holding the Turkish dildo securely in place.

  She tried to move but I wouldn't let her get out of that submissive position yet. I turned the key at the end of the plug until she cried out again. The beauty of the instrument is that its slats expand; a marvel of ancient mechanics.

  I ordered her to kneel, punctuating the command with a sharp smack to her bottom. She knelt bolt upright. I could see from her face that the plug was uncomfortable, which delighted me. "Count Dracula indeed!" I said. "Hands behind your back!" She may end up in his arms, but not before I was through with her.

  Shoulders back, her breasts jutted nicely, the nipples swollen and offering themselves for my pleasure. I took one into my mouth and sucked it firm, whipping it with my tongue, nipping with my teeth. Mina's body spasmed. Her head fell back, and she moaned, partly from the stimulation my mouth provided and partly from the wooden shaft invading her rectum.

  My inclination was to spank her again. But that would be less than satisfying as she had so many new sensations to deal with, and besides, her bottom wanted time for restoration. Her response would increase if she could tolerate more and to tolerate more, I needed to work with a clean slate.

  I did not waste the opportunity, though. My cock was hard and I sat her upon it. She slid down onto me easily, her cunt wet and hot and swollen. Gripping her waist where the thong was tied, I lifted her up and down. Her tight pussy gripped me for dear life. Her face flushed and her breathing quickened. Within moments she threw her arms around my neck and trembled violently.

  I paused while she got her bearing, then began anew. The juices flowed from her, increasing my lust, but I had the self control to bring her to another orgasm. Her hot cunny was starved and needed proper feeding, and I intended to feed her until she was full, if only to make up for my shortcomings.

  Hours had gone by. I brought her to her sixth orgasm. She complained in a half-hearted manner, "Jonathan, I'm so sore."

  "And will be sorer still," I assured her.

  "I cannot endure such twisted pleasures," she protested.

  "You limit yourself, Mina, but tonight you will exceed your previous boundaries."

  We passed the night this way, my wife protesting that she could not tolerate another orgasm and I providing one anyway, much to her delight and chagrin.

  By morning she was indeed sore, as was I, but it had been worth it. Before I allowed her sleep, I gave the key a further twist.

  As I drifted off, the peaceful smile on her face filled me with much love for this woman whom I was about to lose. Had I but understood my duties sooner...

  I slept vowing not to dwell on the past.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  We were seven days into the trip and my bottom still pink from that last licking received several days before! Jonathan was cruel and yet I could not hate him for his treatment of me because secretly I craved it. Oh, the paddles and straps and even his palm were no joking matter. I did not so much enjoy the pain as the pleasure it brought. For when the paddling and spanking were through and my flesh burned, then it felt good to me, and then is when Jonathan took me in the way a man takes a woman. At those times I felt completely submissive to him and gave myself over entirely as I had not been able to before. The pleasure of this passion was so exquisite that I could not fathom how I had ever lived without it.

  But this thing he inserted into my most private place, that was another matter. He permitted me relief on each of the mornings and evenings of our trip, but to my horror demanded that I do my most personal toilet acts in his presence. He placed a traveling commode on the floor and had me squat naked before him over it, I struggling for balance as the ship pitched. I felt completely humiliated and would not have released anything had these not been my only opportunities. To have him watch me strain as my bowels moved, as my urine hissed into the metal pot... I was mortified. And then, once I had finished, he made me
lie across his lap where he reinserted the nasty plug. Each time it was larger still and the torment of entry greater. The wood was so hard, so unforgiving, and several times a day Jonathan added insult to injury by twisting the key at one end to expand it, much to my dismay. For this object not only stretched me but filled me in a manner that made me feel ashamed at the pleasure. To what purpose this was being done, I did not know. Jonathan refused to answer my questions.

  I was amazed at how different he seemed. His demeanor had altered to that of a man who knows what he wants and takes it. I confess I was very attracted to him and a little afraid of his iron will, in much the same way I feared Count Dracula yet was drawn to him. But with Jonathan I suspected his recent actions were an aberration and not a permanent alteration in his character. I believed this was all a sham and that he was trying to dissuade me from going to the Count, but he would not succeed. I felt bound and determined to be with Dracula, for be he man or monster, he could fulfill me.

  We arrived by boat in Istanbul and needed to wait there until the next day for the train to Buda-Pesth, then onward to Bistrita. Jonathan wanted to go riding and we did in a manner of speaking, he on a large gelding, I lying across the saddle in front of him naked, my body bared to the wind.

  This country is wild, the trees bent and twisted with the whipping gales in winter, the soil blistered by the harsh summer sun. These observations I made from my position on the horse as Jonathan cracked his riding crop against the backs of my thighs. Coarse horse hairs rubbed my titties erect. My bottom was bare before heaven and my soft button bounced not far from the horses firm back.

  Jonathan lifted me and sat me on top of his member. My hot thighs straggled his breeches. He walked the gelding then moved him into a trot and finally a gallop. Jonathan's hard flesh speared me in time to the horses hooves as I bounced happily along. Then he lay me across the saddle again and whipped my stinging thighs. By the time we returned to the inn where we were staying, my face was streaked with tears and the backs of my thighs were raw.