Once Bitten

by Lisette Ashton

  I closed my eyes as a thrill of bliss shuddered through my body.

  My dance partner was on her knees, clutching my thighs and pressing her face close to my sex. She stared up at me, her blue eyes veiled through her thick lashes, and I could see she held her tongue extended. When it stroked the fluid flesh of my pussy another roar of satisfaction ripped through my frame.

  ‘You taste horny.’

  I grinned. ‘There’s probably a damned good reason for that.’

  She tightened her grip on my thighs and began to devour me with earnest but measured enthusiasm. Her tongue teased sultry caresses along my pussy lips. Occasionally she placed a burning kiss against my clit, but her main efforts were focused on lapping, licking and tasting my wetness.

  I glanced over at the other women, not surprised to see they remained kissing. One of the swimsuits had been removed, and lay in a puddle at the woman’s feet. The bathing cap remained tight on her head and kept her hair hidden and gave her naked form the look of something exceptionally vampish. I couldn’t resist watching as the other woman suckled her breasts. That sight, along with the weight of the tongue on my sex, pushed me hurriedly to the point of orgasm.

  ‘You should be laid down while we do this.’

  I didn’t argue.

  When my dance partner climbed from her knees and then escorted me back to the lounge chair, I happily held her hand and savoured the promise of what was about to come. The tremble in my unsteady gait was a testament to my arousal.

  As I lie back on the chair, I tried to brace myself for the disappointment that I felt certain was to follow. A cynical voice at the back of my mind told me events were going too well to last. The women revered me as though I was a goddess or a returning hero. After all the unexpected developments that had spoilt my day, I didn’t think it was too pessimistic to fear that such intense pleasures would end abruptly and without warning. Either Carlos was going to return and be upset at my presence, or some other unforeseen calamity would bring our fun to a frustrating and untimely end.

  My dance partner began to lick my pussy as soon as I was laid on the chair.

  Shockwaves of raw bliss rippled through my body. Even though she buried her nails into my thighs, and attacked me with more ferocity than she had used before, it was the intense pleasure that assaulted my senses. I gasped with joy and stroked my hand against her bathing cap.

  The other pair sauntered over to the chair and grinned down at me.

  ‘Are you two managing OK there?’

  ‘Do you have room for two more willing bodies?’

  I opened my arms in silent welcome.

  Their vampire speed continued to amaze me. In one moment they towered over me – one naked and the other dressed in her prissily sexy 50s swimsuit. In the next they were both naked and kneeling at either side of my chair. Lips encircled my right breast. The blonde to my left placed her mouth over mine. I had time to glimpse the distinctive mole on her upper lip. And then I was being licked, suckled, kissed and caressed.

  It was difficult to gauge how long we were locked together.

  Fingers slipped over my body, stroking my breasts and teasing the mounds of my buttocks. I eventually crawled from the chair, sprawling on the tiles with the three blondes as I tried to return their inquisitive caresses with my own eager kisses. It seemed as though a tongue constantly rested against my pussy lips. Even when a finger teased between the labia and gently plundered my flesh, I knew there was a tongue flicking like soft velvet against the throb of my clit.

  The urge to climax was strong. But that greedy demand was overpowered by the thrill of being with women who wanted to give me pleasure and were happy with the little I could do in return.

  As we became more entangled I found my face buried against a pussy. The flesh was coated with a down of honey-blonde curls and trimmed to a runway strip that led down to the split of her labia. The sight pricked a memory but I couldn’t recall why it seemed so familiar. Savouring the taste of dewy sex lips on my mouth, I pulled my face away from the woman’s sex and reached for my vodka.

  ‘Do you want a fresh drink?’

  ‘Or something to eat?’

  ‘Or a cigarette, maybe?’

  Their eagerness to please me was thrilling. I declined the food and drink but accepted the offer of a cigarette. Christine’s cigars hadn’t satisfied my craving for nicotine and, I reasoned, the opportunity for a smoke break would give me time to appreciate all the pleasures I was enjoying.

  The three blondes, the one with the hoop earrings still wearing her bathing cap, sat cross-legged on the floor around me as we each lit up and relaxed easily together. Bill Haley rocked around the clock and I got the impression we were all enjoying an acceptable intermission to our fun.

  I showed them my party trick, waggling my ears in time to the Bill Haley tune, and their snorts of girlish laughter resounded around the pool with genuine enthusiasm.

  ‘How come you all having matching tattoos?’ I asked, nodding at the thigh of the nearest woman. I had finally had time to study the artwork and discovered each was the same repeated drawing of a bat. With black wings, stylised teeth and crimson eyes, the tattoo made for a sinister mark on the three elegant blondes.

  I was unimpressed with the way the image had been realised. If it had only been on one of the women I would have dismissed that as poor skill on the part of the responsible tattoo artist. But, because all three tattoos were identical, I understood the artwork was supposed to look simple, crude and crappy.

  The blondes regarded me with puzzled expressions.

  ‘My best friend has one similar,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘And I think hers is adorable.’ This was a lie. I knew Mel had a tattoo on her thigh but I hadn’t properly looked at the damned thing. It was a black ink drawing with red eyes and black wings but that was as much as I’d been able to notice. At the time, when I had first seen it, my attention was fixed on far more interesting details. But I thought the use of mild flattery couldn’t hurt to smooth over the mounting tension that emanated from the blondes.

  The three of them all spoke together and I only caught snatches of their replies.

  ‘They’re our badges…’

  ‘…marks, emblems…’

  ‘…they show we belong…’

  I raised a hand, to try and interrupt. Their words came so quickly I could barely discern one comment from another. ‘One at a time, please,’ I begged. ‘One at a time.’

  ‘…we are his property…’

  ‘…of the master…’

  ‘…we belong to Carlos.’

  Each wore the same earnest expression. I could see they were trying to assure me that this arrangement was acceptable and I didn’t want to spoil the mood of the evening by arguing from a feminist standpoint. If they wanted to wear a tattoo that indicated they were Carlos’s property, that was their decision. Aware that dwelling on the subject was likely to spoil the mood, I squashed my cigarette into a convenient ashtray and leaned closer to the blonde with the mole on her upper lip. Stroking my fingers away from the drawing, trying not to make the action look too hasty or reveal my quiet revulsion, I met her gaze and said, ‘I think they look lovely.’ Disliking the sensation of the tattoo near my fingers I moved my hand higher.

  She sighed.

  And then the four of us were writhing together as though our passion had never been interrupted. My mouth was locked against one pussy and then another. Just as they kept their dress code identical and each wore the same blunt-cut bob, they also kept their pussies trimmed so there was no difference between any of them.

  I marvelled at the sex that lingered on my tongue, amazed that each could be so similar. The down of curls had been trimmed to a slender runway that led to the most perfect labia I had ever encountered. The inner labia were contained neatly inside the folds of the outer lips, only appearing when the blonde spread her legs and became sufficiently excited. The contrast between the flushed puce of her labia and the porcelain pallor o
f her thighs was stark and exciting.

  I greedily devoured the woman beneath me as my breasts were suckled and eager fingers penetrated my hole. The atmosphere became electric with anticipation as we each strove to bring one another to climax. I could sense the undercurrent of a competitive spirit in the air as my efforts to pleasure each woman were consistently thwarted.

  And it was only when I was basking in the first glorious release of a climax that I realised the women had been determined that I would be satisfied before they allowed themselves any pleasure.

  One of them squatted over my mouth, facing down my body, and allowing me to plunge my tongue into her sex. Every breath I took was enriched by the torrid fragrance of her musk. Because I couldn’t see what she was doing I assumed she was the one fondling my breasts. Her nails raked against the flesh, exciting lines of pain and making my sensitivity all the more profound.

  Another had her face against my pussy and licked greedily against the lips. She forced her tongue flat against the thrust of my clit until the bead of flesh blossomed larger and she was able to catch it, lightly, between her teeth. As she gently nibbled, buffeting me with thrills of tortured delight, the other blonde stroked my sides, stomach and thighs. The three of them teased me with the softest caresses and pushed me beyond the brink of further resistance. Fingers slipped into my pussy and touched against my anus.

  And the ability to fight against another orgasm was no longer an option.

  A glorious pressure of mounting release had built between my thighs. As the wealth of sensations pushed me past the point of overload, I screamed happily.

  The blondes fell away from me, giggling.

  I lay breathless on the floor, trying to find words to express my gratitude and delight. Not for the first time, I wished there was a way for us to be together forever. I remembered falling in love with the first of the blondes that morning when she had provided a massage that my body so desperately needed. Now, I realised I didn’t just love her: I also loved the other two. The haze of contentment was so strong I could have cried with my adoration for the three women but I sensed a change in the atmosphere and realised this was neither the time nor the place to declare my undying devotion.

  ‘I see you found your way back here,’ a masculine voice boomed.

  I turned to see who was standing in the doorway. I didn’t know how long he had been watching us but the coolness of his gaze made me feel suddenly ashamed and guilty. I thought of snatching my clothes from the side of the pool, covering myself and hiding my body from him.

  But I knew that would only make me feel more vulnerable.

  The blondes had huddled together, as though they feared Carlos even though they revered him as their master and owner. It was distressing to see the three women look so upset but I realised that was a problem I had no hope of addressing directly.

  Trying to act with a confidence that I didn’t feel, hoping I looked casual and unperturbed, I climbed unsteadily to my feet and regarded him coolly. ‘Hi, Carlos,’ I began. ‘I’ve come to take you up on your offer.’

  ‘I knew you would,’ he smirked arrogantly.

  Still trying to feign a composure I didn’t possess, I asked innocently, ‘Have you been anywhere interesting this evening?’

  Immediately, I saw it had been the wrong thing to say.

  Carlos’s grim smile turned into a scowl and he threw himself at me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I am Carlos san Miguel,’ he roared. ‘I am the owner of this house and the master of these women. I have been a vampire for the past five centuries and no one – NO ONE – ever asks me to explain where I have been.’

  He towered over me and looked like a volcano on the brink of eruption. I could sense the waves of volatile anger radiating from him in huge black surges. His fury was so powerful it was like a tangible force that shared the room with us. With a sensation of sinking disdain, I saw he held a stake in his fist.

  I didn’t think to wonder why a vampire would carry a stake.

  On reflection it seemed akin to someone with extreme nut allergies carrying a pocket full of almonds or cashews. But my thoughts were more preoccupied with the immediate danger that Carlos presented rather than his peculiarities or eccentricities.

  The length of wood was long and thick and whittled to a needle-like tip. Carlos slammed the girth of the stake in my open hand with the point aimed toward his chest. He had been wearing a cloak but he shrugged it away from his shoulders with a debonair flourish. Wrapping my fist around the wood, he grabbed my wrist, and then urged me to push the stake forward.

  The sharpened tip pressed against his skin.

  It dimpled the flesh over his heart and I knew it would only take a fraction more pressure to break the skin.

  ‘This is the only thing that can kill a wampire,’ he growled. ‘If you want to ask me demeaning questions, usurp my authority, or take control of my harem, you will have to destroy me first. And you can only do that by plunging this stake into my heart.’

  I had a momentary flash of déjà vu and wondered if Carlos knew we had already played this ridiculous little game. The memory was still vivid enough in my mind for me to realise he was presenting the same challenge he had offered before. The stupidity of the exchange, his clear desire to express power by playing on my reluctance to kill him, was annoying and frustrating. My hand trembled but he kept his fingers pressed tight around mine.

  ‘Do you have the strength to kill me, Tessa?’

  With a massive effort, I opened my fist.

  The stake clattered noisily on the tiled floor of the poolside. ‘I don’t want to kill you,’ I snarled. ‘I want you to help me.’ Drawing a deep breath, and trying to take a grudging step toward an apology, I added, ‘I wasn’t trying to question how you spend your evenings. I was simply being polite.’

  He appeared unimpressed but I was beyond caring. His arrogance was a spur to my temper. The foolishness with the stake had been disconcerting and unpleasant the first time. This time it had been intimidating too. Rage flourished inside me the way a climax had filled me prior to his arrival.

  I wondered if this was typical of being a vampire. I seemed only able to suffer the extremes of one emotion or another – never anything between. I had gone from a bliss of absolute arousal to a welter of magnificent fury and there hadn’t appeared to be a period of transition. My fury was replaced by a surge of overwhelming weariness.

  ‘I came here to ask for your help,’ I snapped. ‘This morning you told me to come back if I couldn’t find anyone to assist me. I’ve spent the day trying to find someone else but you’re the only one who has the courage to go up against the legion. You said this morning that your offer was an open one. You told me, if no one else would help, I should come back here and we could negotiate terms.’

  His smile made me think of poisonous snakes. I would not have been surprised to see a forked tongue slither over his lips. His eyes were cold, dangerous and reptilian. ‘Very well,’ he said.

  The tension between us lessened but it didn’t disappear entirely. He snapped his fingers and hurled a barrage of commands to the three blondes. They fled quickly from the poolside, hurrying into the house as they snatched their discarded clothes. The trio looked beautiful as they ran into the building – delivering a parting glimpse of bare legs and pert buttocks. The stirring of a fresh arousal tickled inside my loins. I shivered and felt the arousal subside when I realised I was alone with Carlos.

  He wore a pair of dark jeans. Since he had shrugged off the cloak his torso was bare save for the pelt of curls that coated his olive skin. He was an admirable specimen of masculinity but I knew he was as dangerous as he was potentially desirable.

  ‘These are my terms,’ Carlos began. He held up a single broad finger. ‘First: you will stay here for the remainder of the night and throughout the sunlight hours of tomorrow. After that you will be free to leave, if it is then your wish to leave. Do I make myself clear?’

  Waril
y, I nodded. The terms did not seem as severe as I had anticipated. Carlos wanted me for the remainder of the night and the following day. I wasn’t ready to believe he was going to go easy on me but I began to think my initial reservations had been overcautious. However, I wanted to listen to everything he had to say before I made my judgement.

  He raised a second finger.

  ‘While you are here, you will obey my every instruction and yield to my every desire. I will not accept insurrection and I will not tolerate insubordination. Do I make myself clear?’

  I wasn’t comfortable with the terms but, if I wanted to rescue Mel, I had no choice but accept them. They were no worse than I had expected and, because I’d come to him as a last hope, I didn’t think he was asking for more than I’d already decided I was going to give.

  ‘I understand,’ I said grudgingly.

  He raised a third finger and considered me coolly. ‘While you are here you will dress as I demand and subject yourself to every indignity that I find amusing to impose on you.’ The trace of a smirk lit across his face, as though he was gleefully anticipating my humiliation. ‘Obviously, you may walk out of here at any point if things become more than you can bear. But rest assured that walking out will mean I am no longer going to give you my assistance. Do you understand?’

  ‘If I do everything you want, do you promise that you will help me?’

  His features were solemn. ‘If you do everything I have said I will make it my personal duty to wrest Melinda from the clutches of the legion of wampire hunters.’

  I stiffened.

  A simple yes would have been more convincing. Drawing a deep breath, dreading the idea of what I might be promising, I asked, ‘How long do we have before the legion decides Mel is sufficiently cleansed so she can be destroyed?’

  His brilliant smile flashed wide. ‘The legion enjoys prolonging their torment. They took her last night. They will spend tonight making sure Melinda is thoroughly cleansed. I anticipate they will be ready to kill her tomorrow night on the stroke of midnight – they have a flair for the dramatic.’