Darker Passions: Dracula

by Kilpatrick, Nancy

  "And slash yours I shall if you do not release these men immediately!" The Professor and Arthur stood at the door, the latter holding a stake and mallet, and the former extending a large crucifix before him.

  Magda glared at them, eyes flashing, a coquettish smile playing on her lips. "A man of your talents is wasted on mere mortals. I would think they present no challenge, no way to extend your own boundaries."

  "Perhaps, madam, those boundaries can be explored on your hide at some later date. For the moment, though, I am immune to the seductive tricks of the undead. You will release these three at once."

  No one moved. Through the opaque glass of the only window, John saw the sky darken considerably, as if the last tendrils of light had been sucked from it. Van Helsing noticed too.

  "My Master will arrive shortly," Magda said, "for it is him you came to visit, is that not so?"

  "Enough of this!" the Professor said. He nodded at Arthur, who made his way to Lucy and untied her.

  Lucy's eyes flashed crimson seduction at him and her carmine lips spread into a voluptuous smile, exposing the sharp white teeth. She glanced once at Magda, who nodded, then opened her arms and thrust her tits in his direction. "Arthur, my love. I am hungry for you. Come to me."

  Arthur seemed mesmerized. John watched him inch forward into those pale arms.

  Suddenly Van Helsing's cross jammed between the two.

  Lucy shrank back.

  Arthur came to his senses.

  "Such theatrics do not become a man of science." Count Dracula stood at the entrance to the room. He closed the heavy wooden door and locked it, pocketing the key.

  John held his breath as this imposing figure strode forward, the long midnight cape flowing behind him. He snatched the bullwhip from Magda's neck and cracked it in the air. The alarming sound reverberated throughout the room, creating a palpable tension. John's body trembled and he began to sweat.

  "I am perhaps the more dramatic," Dracula said, walking right up to Van Helsing who, remarkably, stood his ground. The cross helped. Dracula glanced at Arthur. John could see his friend's eyes perfectly. The lids widened then narrowed, as did the pupils. The briefest struggle of wills ensued before Arthur succumbed.

  "Take it from him!" Dracula ordered.

  Arthur, as if hypnotized, snatched the cross from Van Helsing's hands and broke the joint, creating two harmless pieces of wood. This permitted the Count to move closer, which he did.

  He stopped only when he towered over the shorter Dutchman. Van Helsing looked fearless, as if he possessed some knowledge that Count Dracula did not.

  Dracula reached out and stroked his cheek, as he would touch a woman's. His hand gripped the back of Van Helsing's neck and pulled his face forward. John couldn't believe his eyes. The vampire was about to kiss the Professor!

  But suddenly Dracula thrust him backwards across the room. "I see!" he yelled. "That will not protect you for long. Even you must perspire and the tears your pores cry will wash away the effects of the water you have so painstakingly consumed."

  John could only imagine it was the holy water. Van Helsing had insisted they stop en route and fill their water flasks at a cathedral, although he was the only one to drink.

  But Dracula was not to be outdone. With a glance, he passed an order to Magda, who summoned the two dark-haired beauties and Lucy. They grabbed Arthur and stripped him, then dragged him to a ship's pillory. He was lashed facing it, exposing his back, arms spread wide, feet together. The slim one stuffed his cock through a hole in the crossbar where the wood thinned, then tied his waist, entrapping him.

  "You have lost them before you begin," the Count told Van Helsing. "These men are mine, or will be, as shall you be. And when I take you, Professor, you will cry out in agony and bliss, begging me to use you in any manner I see fit. And I shall."

  Van Helsing hovered against one wall, glancing around the room at the spectacle. Still, to John, he seemed proud, not ready to bend a knee before this superior Master. But the Professor's troops were incapacitated. Each of the four lovelies was not of this earth, or perhaps too much of the earth, including his beloved Lucy. And then there was the Count, exuding power and mastery at every turn. Why, John wondered, didn't the Professor struggle to get out while he could? The situation seemed utterly hopeless. John was resigned to his fate, however delicious it might be, and he was soon to find out.

  "My lovelies," the Count began, "you are bored and I have devised a game for your amusement. Come."

  He held a private conference with each, which lasted only moments, except for Magda, who argued her case heatedly. Finally Dracula nodded, and she seemed satisfied.

  Being the eldest, Magda had first choice. She selected Van Helsing, for he obviously fascinated her. The slender girl chose Quincey and the fleshy one Arthur. Lucy selected John. He felt waves of jealousy course through the air in his direction, the most intense from Van Helsing himself.

  Dracula, like the ringmaster of a circus, stood in the center of the room and snapped his ten foot bullwhip in the air half a dozen times. The sound stabled at the eardrums and seemed to cut the air in two; John knew full well that the tail of that whip could do the same to his flesh, in the proper hand.

  John watched the slim girl bend down before Arthur's phallus. She teased his trapped flesh, using her full lips on him in a manner that brought his fellow to its full height quickly. She reached around the post and grabbed his ass cheeks in her hands, kneading them, digging her long fingernails into the thick muscles, sending sensations rippling through Arthur, exciting John. Gradually she worked her hands inward until she had his cheeks spread, his balls clutched in one hand, a finger of her other hand poised over Arthur's anus. John could only see Arthur from the side. His friend was breathing in and out quickly and helplessly. The slim girl sucked his juices from him and he cried out as he spurted into her.

  "John, my love." Lucy captured his attention.

  She bent before him, her silky blonde hair falling over her face. Remarkably the wounds across her body were already healing and he would have liked to have studied this medical curiosity. She slipped his feet into a pair of heavy metal boots and began turning cranks along the sides. The boots shrank against his feet until the bones felt on the verge of being crushed. A groan escaped his lips, at which point she stopped.

  "Lucy, you have become diabolical!" he gasped.

  She flashed those sharp fangs at him, and he shriveled before them.

  But Lucy would not be defeated by his fear. She snapped a metal ring divided into three sections over his balls and sagging cock, lifting his genitals, separating his testes and forcing them and his cock to rise high. Then she worked his penis with her hands until he firmed. The sensation was not unpleasant and he became rigid quickly.

  Next she affixed a metal hat to his head with screws all around. She turned them until the pressure on his brain became intense. "For heaven's sake, Lucy, you must cease! Where did you learn such games?"

  "John, you've always loved my games."

  "Your games were simple."

  "Perhaps too simple," she said cryptically.

  Next she fit a blindfold over his eyes and a leather ball into his mouth, held by thongs that tied behind his head. His hands were encased in more cold metal, again tightened until he groaned. Metallic bands locked over his chest, at stomach level, his thighs and calves. She reached under his ass cheeks and spread them so that his anus sat exposed to the metal seat, then tightened all the restraints.

  Just before she stuffed melted wax into his ears, he heard a scream. Arthur was no longer the recipient of pleasure, at least not from how John interpreted the sound.

  John could not see, nor hear nor cry out. Many parts of his body felt intense pressure. He had never been bound in such a complete manner and although he felt fearful, it was thoroughly exciting. Always before he had not needed restraint. He had offered himself for punishment of his own volition, to Lucy, to the Professor, and taken all they could giv
e. But imprisoned as he was inspired new levels of terror in him. Whatever Lucy decided to do to him, he could not stop. He was reminded of her masked head at Carfax, and her trapped limbs. She had been completely cut off from intercourse with the world, while that small exposed strip of her behind received far more than its share of attention. The memory caused him to shiver with delight and fear.

  As he sat bound in the chair, he was thrust back onto himself. The utter silence except for his own breathing and the wild beating of his heart left him time to think about who he was and what he really wanted. Faces flashed before his mind's eye, thoughts of pleasures received and taken and regrets for those missed, particularly with Mina Harker.

  Fingers gripped his nipples. This flesh on flesh sent a wave of sensation through his veins like lava flowing down a mountainside. His nipples responded by firming under the cool fingers that pinched them. His heart beat faster. Suddenly the fingers that controlled him were gone. Air on the sensitive nipples sent more delights rippling down to his engorged penis.

  Pain exploded across his flesh. Hard ice clamped onto both burning nipples. Had he not been captured so completely he would have jumped through the roof. His squall of pain went unheard except in his own ears. His breath shortened into panting as he rode the searing pain shooting from his nipples through his body. It took a long time for the sensations to become sufferable.

  Fingers toyed with his cock and balls. The tension he felt there was almost beyond tolerance. He wanted release and yet the metal locking his genitals into position blocked his juices inside him.

  Tears streamed from his face. Lucy was a monster and he at her mercy. He could not even beg, just suffer what she inflicted upon him. But the stroking of his cock calmed him. Her hands traveled the inside of his thighs and along his chest and shoulders and neck, relaxing him, helping him sink into the floating feeling that had crept up unawares. It was as though he slept yet was awake. He felt at peace, every inch of his flesh tuned to what pleasures and tortures she provided. Even though he could not understand why, he trusted her completely to understand his needs.

  Her touch brought him higher again, his skin hungry for more. The ache in his balls felt joyous. How he longed for that feeling to last forever!

  He felt warm. Pliable. Malleable in her hands.

  Left once again to his own devices, he traveled this stream of elation. And then the warmth increased and localized.

  John realized that it centered on his ass and his anus so completely pressed to the seat. A seat he remembered was metal.

  A seat he know realized was heating up.

  Chapter Forty

  Quincey had watched Lucy create a flame inside the small iron caldron and slide the pot under John's chair. Lucy, now dressed in a green velvet dress that exposed her ample cleavage, approached the fleshy girl and pulled her aside. Their tête à tête involved verbal and physical interaction, with much hugging and kissing and fondling of one another's body parts. From the looks cast in his direction, he knew he was the subject of their discussion.

  The fleshy girl giggled and nodded. Immediately they inverted the stocks to which he was attached so that he lay still bent at the waist but facing the ceiling. They undid his ankles, for which he felt grateful, and stretched his legs out then tied them to the wood at his feet. This put a terrific strain on his lower back, alleviated as they wove rope back and forth, creating a supporting hammock. They left him alone for a few moments and he glanced around the room.

  The seat must have heated quickly. John squired to the little extend his restraints permitted. Arthur was being sucked firm for the third time by the slim girl. The look on his face reflected a fine blend of pleasure and pain and Quincey wondered how much even a man in as good shape as Arthur could take. He expected they would both find out this night.

  The Professor stood against one wall talking with Magda. Just talking. Now that's strange, Quincey thought.

  He turned his head to see Count Dracula lounging on a chaise in the center of the tower, Dark Lord of all he surveyed. Dracula was watching him. Closely. Quincey's cock sprang to attention under that dark demanding gaze, and he fondly remembered licking the filth from the Count's boots back at the asylum.

  When Lucy and the fleshy girl returned, Lucy first removed the pot from beneath the chair the twitching John was trapped in.

  That metal, Quincey knew, would not cool quickly.

  They brought with them an armload of items. The first he became aware of was the sharp-looking knife with a four inch blade that had cut the clothing off Arthur. The girl who had selected Quincey poised it above his genitals.

  Desperately, he said, "Ladies, be reasonable—"

  "Quincey," Lucy chided him, "you American boys are overly protective of your manhood, as though all we women think about is destroying what provides us pleasure. Calm yourself. I will hold him," she told the other female.

  The fleshy girl rubbed something wet onto his crotch where his poor fellow put up a good show despite his terror. Quincey felt humiliated as tears gushed from his eyes. Though that blurry vision, he saw Count Dracula still watching closely, waiting, no doubt, for the blood to flow.

  In seconds they had lathered the hairs of his crotch and stomach. Lucy held his hips to steady the trembling. The knife blade, sharp as any razor, scraped along his skin slowly. The fleshy girl shaved his balls first, the undersides, the top and all along the delicate shriveled skin, then took the hairs from his crack near the vulnerable area around his anus. They splattered hot burning candle wax over the wiry dark hairs on his stomach, chest, shoulders, back, arms and legs. When they peeled it away, the hairs came too, if painfully. The fleshy girl soaped his face and removed his moustache and sideburns and the new growth of beard. Other than his head, his entire body was now hairless.

  He felt exposed, nothing between him and the air. The current passing through the room cooled his skin and brought out little bumps on his flesh. This must be how women feel, he realized, sensual, erotic, open, no barriers to pleasure and pain. He was not adverse to the feeling. Yet. For that reason he did not resist unduly.

  A groan forced his eyes to the left. Arthur cried out again and from the number of such cries, Quincey counted that his prick was being sucked for the sixth time. Anguish and ecstasy creased Arthur's upper-class features. His lips trembled and his eyes floated upward into their sockets in a dreamy way. The slim dark-haired beauty stood. She picked up what looked like a sewing needle. Quincey watched spellbound as she pierced Arthur's nipple from left to right. Arthur threw his head back and howled.

  To Quincey's left, Lucy stoked the coals in the pot and returned it to beneath John's chair. John sat rigid, bound, inwardly directed.

  Most peculiar was Van Helsing and Magda, still talking. And Count Dracula, ruler supreme over all he surveyed, watching everything.

  Lucy and the fleshy girl kissed long and deeply again, fondling one another's breasts. They then untied Quincey's legs and removed the stocks from his head and wrists. Once he was upright, they attached a woman's corset around his middle. "Really, Lucy, this is outrageous—."

  "Quiet, Miss, or your behind will feel my paddle!"

  Count Dracula fixed his eyes on Quincy's, his and Quincey kept his mouth shut, for he had no intention of suffering the humiliation of being paddled while this monster looked on.

  The whale bones pressing into his stomach area were an entirely new sensation. He had always enjoyed seeing corseted woman and had occasionally wondered what such a garment would feel like. Now he knew. It felt marvelous.

  They tightened the stays until his ass protrude behind him and his pectoral muscles rode the top of the contraption like breasts. And didn't they pull them tight at the waist! Breathtakingly so, but it made a bit of an hour-glass.

  The females spun him in a circle until they were satisfied with their work. They embraced again. Their hips and nipples touched and their lips connected. With mouths open, both women stuck out their tongues as if they
were snakes kissing, and he found this erotic.

  Next came fancy bloomers, the silk soft and comforting against his newly exposed skin. When they were halfway up, Lucy said, "I've an idea."

  She left the room but returned almost at once. In her hand she held what might be the opposite of a codpiece. The triangular metallic shield she attached to his groin area pressed his cock and balls back and under so that they seemed to disappear, or at least no longer bulged in front as they normally did.

  "Sit, Miss Morris!" Lucy pointed to a stool and Quincey sat gingerly, trying to find a comfortable position, unable to truly bend because of the corset, smarting at the feminization she had inflicted on him. And before the Count!

  The fleshy girl slid thin cotton stocking up his legs, unrolling them slowly, then red garters to hold them in place. Count Dracula looked on with interest and Quincey's face burned in shame.

  There were no boots that would fit him and the petticoats were short, but when he looked down, he was surprised to find them billowing from his frame in an aesthetic manner.

  Lucy and the other girl slid a scarlet dress over his head. They pinned it tightly to his body and tied a sash about his waist. The taffeta rustled with each slight movement and cooled his skin. A peculiar feeling washed over Quincey, one of release. He felt that now he could relax in a way that before had not been possible.

  Arthur cried out again, this time begging for mercy, but the girl would have none of it. She used a tiny whip to lash his deflated cock, which struggled to do her bidding, then pierced his other nipple. John jumped and quivered like a piece of fat on a spit. Lucy placed a hand to her mouth and cried, "Oh, I forgot about him!"

  She glanced at Dracula, whose eyes narrowed with displeasure. "Had I wanted the doctor fried to a crisp," his voice boomed from the center of the room, "I could have seen to that myself."

  Lucy pulled the hot pot from under the metal seat which, Quincey knew, would take even longer to cool this time. He thought he smelled burning meat.