Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology

by Cain, Addison

  Opening her mouth, she sucked and swallowed every drop.

  When Mirella had finished feasting, she made her way to the castle and to her beloved.

  Chapter 3

  She cared little for the frightened stares of her servants or how they crossed themselves, whispering a quick prayer to God as she passed.

  Let them pray to their dead deity.

  Mirella knew better.

  There was no god.

  Her bare feet did not feel the cold of the flagstone as she slowly walked down the darkened corridor to the master chamber. She could hear sobs through the heavy wood door and was taken aback at the depth of his sorrow.

  Grabbing the iron ring, she pulled the door open.

  The chamber was ablaze in candlelight. Rich tapestries lined the walls and floors, giving the room a golden glow.

  In the center was a massive bed piled high with furs and silk.

  On the bed was her beloved Vlad… with another woman.

  Mirella recognized her as a young serving girl from the kitchens. She could not be more than seven and ten years. It was her sobbing which could be heard.

  “Please, my lord. Please, my prince. Don’t do this.”

  “Open your fucking mouth, whore.”

  Vlad straddled the struggling girl, his thick thighs pressing down on her slim shoulders as he wrenched her arms high above her head. Securing her narrow wrists in his fist, he used his other hand to clasp her jaw.

  “I’m a good girl. Please!”

  Her words were muffled and almost indistinct between her own sobs and his grip on her face.

  Vlad only growled in response as his heavy cock pushed past her small teeth. Pressing his hips against her face, he lodged the length of his shaft to the base till his balls pushed against her slackened jaw. Only helpless gurgles could be heard from the girl until he mercifully pulled free before thrusting back in to the hilt.

  Mirella watched the play of sinew across her husband’s broad back and ass as his hips began to thrust forward.

  Choking the girl with his flesh.

  The girl’s legs kicked helplessly as she was forced to accept his cock deep into her mouth.

  His groans mixed with her sobs.

  “Swallow your master’s cock.”

  His hips pulled back and the poor terrified girl let out one guttural scream before Mirella saw the cheeks of his ass tighten as Vlad thrust violently forward.

  Silencing her.

  Forced into submission, unable to breathe, the girl ceased to struggle.

  Releasing her wrists, Vlad gripped the bed frame and began to plunge into her unwilling mouth in earnest.

  After several hard thrusts, Vlad roared his release.

  Leaning back, still unaware of Mirella’s presence, Vlad grabbed a horn of ale and gulped down its contents.

  The girl’s shoulders jerked forward as she gagged and choked. His seed oozed over her lower lip.

  Vlad laughed. “That is how I like my women. Choking on my seed. You have pleased me, girl.”

  Mirella stepped forward into the warm light of the iron candelabra.

  “Is that how you truly like your women, my love?”

  Vlad sprang out of the bed, heedless of his unclothed state, and grabbed his sabre.

  “What specter is this?” he shouted. His still swollen cock bobbed between his open thighs.

  “None other than the wife you are so heartily grieving,” spat out Mirella as she circled his alarmed form, claws bared.

  “My men saw you plummet from the highest point of the tower. No man or beast could have survived such a fall.”

  “Well, my love. I am neither man nor beast,” said Mirella, her lip curled up in disdain.

  There was a clatter of metal and stone behind Vlad. The serving girl in her fear and haste had knocked over a silver platter of dried fruit and cheese as she tried to escape the chamber.

  Seeing both of their intense glares, the girl screamed. Dropping the protection of the fur blanket she had been clutching to her breast, she ran for the open chamber door.

  Mirella’s arm swung out, snatching the girl back by her throat.

  “So, this is the young flesh which would deprive a dutiful wife of her rightful mourning.”

  Clutching the girl to her breast, Mirella could feel the pulse of the girl’s blood as it flowed through her veins.

  “God, his grace, knows I grieved for you, my wife.”

  “Do not mention God to me,” hissed Mirella.

  Grasping the sobbing girl by the hair, she wrenched her head back, exposing her neck. Dark purple bruises had already started to form from Vlad’s rough handling.

  Mirella cooed to the petrified girl as she ran a fingertip down her soft throat. Slowly, she pressed one sharp nail against the girl’s pale skin and watched as a crimson drop formed, glistening like a ruby on her skin.

  Keeping her eyes on Vlad’s face, she lowered her head and licked the warm red bead.

  Rubbing her tongue over her teeth to savor the sweet flavor, Mirella moaned in delight… and hunger.

  The terrified girl stilled, as a creature in the forest who senses danger is near but knows flight is impossible.

  Mirella felt a sharp pain in her skull, as if a dagger were piercing the soft, jellied flesh of her eyes. The bones of her teeth lengthened into two jagged prongs. She felt the keen-edged tips with her tongue. Turning once more to the girl in her grasp, she felt like a wolf looking at its own salvation from starvation.

  Opening her mouth wide, she bit into the soft white flesh of the serving girl’s neck. Tasting rather than hearing the girl’s scream, Mirella reveled in the gush of hot blood which filled her mouth. Tearing at the sinew and bone, she could also taste the salty tang of her own husband’s cum, which still coated the poor girl’s throat.

  Vlad’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, his deep voice shouting commands for her to cease.

  Mirella was deaf to everything but the sweet taste of blood.

  With a swipe of her claws over his forearm, she bared him to the bone. Vlad gave a shout of pain as his grip slackened.

  Mirella fell to the floor, straddling the servant girl under her. Her hips began to undulate and grind against the girl’s midsection as she lapped at the shredded flesh. Her cunt warmed from the tension, causing Mirella to spread her thighs wider and press harder against the girl’s stomach.

  Crimson liquid warmed the chilled flagstone floor as it pooled around the girl’s head. She had long ceased to struggle as the blood was sucked from her body.

  Mirella could feel a rush of cold air as the thin silk of her kirtle was wrenched upwards. She did not have to turn around to know it was the touch of her husband. His large warm hands splayed over her ass and hips. Grasping her thighs, he pushed her body up higher. The movement forced her mouth to press against the servant girl’s torn throat.

  “I can taste your cum,” she rasped, her lips swollen a rich, deep red.

  “And now you will feel my cock,” he growled against her neck as his massive body loomed over her own.

  His thick shaft pressed between her legs, seeking a warmth which was no longer there.

  Mirella dipped her body low, raising her hips.

  With a powerful thrust, his cock plunged deep into her body.

  “By all that is holy, woman, your cunt grabs me like an icy fist.”

  Her body was an empty vessel needing the warmth of others to sustain it. She could feel the blood she had ardently feasted on pool in her stomach to then radiate nourishing heat to her limbs.

  In Vlad’s fevered frenzy, the warmth of his chest rubbed along the cool, smooth skin of her back. In times past, his girth would cause her pain as her body failed to open and stretch quickly enough for his fervent thrusts. Now she welcomed the pain; it was a nourishment equal to blood. Giving her body a sense of life.

  Vlad gripped her long tresses and wrenched her head back. “Who is fucking your cunt?”

  Mirella hissed in respo
nse as drops of blood slid down her outstretched neck to slide over the curve of her breasts.

  “Woman, who is fucking your cunt?” he roared as his heavy shaft tore into her body. He pulled her body back further. She was now bowed, her back arched. The pressure of his thrusts pushed her hips back and forth, increasing the friction of her own body against the dead servant girl beneath her.

  Pointed teeth pierced her lower lip as she ruthlessly clamped her mouth shut, refusing to submit to his husbandly demand.

  Releasing her hair, he pushed her head down till her face was pressed against the servant girl’s shoulder. Locks of the girl’s hair which were now sticky with drying blood stuck to Mirella’s cheek.

  “If my wife will not acknowledge her husband’s plunder of her cunt, then I shall try another field of battle.”

  He pulled his cock free of her tight passage so abruptly she cried out in pain and loss. With a powerful hand pressing down between her shoulders, she could feel the head of his shaft press against her dark hole.

  “No! Stop! It is ungodly!” she raged.

  “You no longer speak of God,” he shouted back as he pressed against her forbidden entrance.

  Mirella tried to buck her hips, but with her thighs stretched wide over the servant girl’s hips, she didn’t have the strength to dislodge his heavy body. Pinned down, his cock pushed inside her ass. Mirella cried out in agony as his warm flesh tore into her. Her long fingernails created ashy white trails on the stone floor as she tried to claw and crawl away from his fierce penetration.

  “Sodomite!” she charged as she bared her teeth and howled at his dominance.

  “Infidel,” he fired back as he used his arms and the weight of his body to keep her prone beneath the push of his hips.

  Lost in a frenzy of pain and hunger, Mirella latched onto his forearm. Burying her tongue into the open wounds caused by her own claws, she drank.

  The feel of her rough tongue licking the blood off his wounds only seemed to spur Vlad on as he increased the power and pace of his thrusts. Violating her dark passage, he tore away the last vestige of humanity she may have had clinging to her soul. Her body was being bathed in the blood of the innocent as he sinned against his own god by forcing his cock into her ass where his seed would not bear fruit.

  It was a sacrilegious right.

  A new mass.

  Their altar the corpse of a believer.

  Their god, no longer the son of man, but a fallen angel made into beast.

  Chapter 4

  Stepping over her prone body, Vlad strode naked across the room. Picking up a heavy silver pitcher, he poured wine into his hollowed horn vessel till it overflowed. With wine coating his fingers, he drank deeply. Brushing his mouth and beard with the back of his hand, he finally spoke, “I would have an explanation from you, wife.”

  Mirella rose, her stature regal and elegant despite her ravaged appearance. Her once pristine kirtle was now stained with dried blood, cum and mud. Her carefully arranged braid was pulled apart with the locks hanging limply about her shoulders. She could feel the servant girl’s blood drying on her neck and breasts.

  Head held high as befitting her station, Mirella sauntered over to Vlad. With her piercing green eyes never leaving his own, she snatched the vessel from his hand and poured her own portion of wine, drinking it deeply.

  “I battled back the heathen Turks only to arrive at my own castle with the servants telling tales of you jumping from the tower. I tore apart the country for a fortnight looking for you, my love.”

  If what Vlad said was true, she had been under the dark waters of the Arges for longer than it took the false god to create earth.

  Taking another deep sip of wine, Mirella asked, “And the forest of the damned, the impaled? Was that in my honor or yours?”

  Vlad hesitated before speaking.

  “As my wife, my honor is yours.”

  So, the impaled were for his glory not in her remembrance.

  Glory and gore.

  The tale of their reign and marriage.

  Mirella turned away.

  A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, turning her back around. He grasped her tangled locks and wrenched her forward till her blood-soaked breasts pressed against his chest. Not deterred by the sight, his mouth descended, violently claiming her own. Her sharp teeth tore into his tongue and lips and still he plundered her mouth with his own. A man accustomed to the horrors of battle and immune to the atrocities man can visit upon their fellow man would not be deterred by a smear of blood across a feminine cheek.

  Her fingers dug into his flesh, making deep bloody gashes over both shoulders and down his chest.

  She pulled free from his assault to run her tongue over his exposed skin. Her hunger was still not fully appeased. Vlad placed his large hand on the back of her head and pressed her face into his chest.

  “My blood is your blood.”

  He meant it as a blood bond between them, but her body had a far more primal response as she licked and laved at the fresh food flowing from his veins.

  Breaking apart, Vlad walked away from her and pulled the heavy gold cord to summon the servants.

  Mirella stared out the casement at the large, glowing moon. Its bright light was unable to penetrate the darkness of the forest surrounding the castle. If she listened closely, she could still hear the moans of agony and pleas for death from the impaled victims below.

  As the servants entered, their blank expressions gave away nothing as they took in the horrific sight of the dead servant girl. They knew better than to react to anything their superiors may have done. If the girl was dead, then she deserved it. It was as simple as that.

  “Take this away,” ordered Vlad, motioning to the girl as if she were a pile of rubbish. “Your mistress desires a bath.”

  Mirella did not speak as servant after servant entered their chamber to pour a bucket of fire-heated water into the large, hammered copper tub. She could hear the drag of dead weight as the servant girl was removed from their sight.

  Discarding her soiled kirtle, she approached the tub. Swirls of steam rose above the water as the floral scent of roses wafted over her. Shimmering pools of rose petal oil danced across the surface and caught the candlelight.

  Mirella stepped into the tub and sank to her shoulders into the warm inviting water.

  And felt nothing.

  No warmth.

  No comfort.

  Just water and the memory of the pleasure to be found immersing yourself in soft, clean heat.

  It was as if her ability to appreciate anything beyond the extremes of pain and hunger had been stripped from her, like a discarded gown. Even the wine which had passed her lips earlier tasted dull and flat, no sweet tang or bite of berry.

  Her disinterested gaze fell on the servants as they brought in one laden platter after another filled with roasted swan, braised boar, pigeon pie and various custards and creams. The savory scent of roasted meat, sage, rosemary and cinnamon should have brought a pang of hunger and a surge of anticipation.

  Yet, she felt nothing.

  Chapter 5

  By morning, half their servants had abandoned the castle.

  They fled to the safety of their remote villages deep in the forest, taking with them the story of the devil master and his cursed mistress.

  Vlad, as the son of the Dracul, had long been feared for his connection to dragons and the devil. With a fierce unforgiving reputation on the battlefield and his merciless punishment of infidels and criminals, his foreboding presence reached far past the borders of Wallachia.

  Dressed in a rich, wool broadcloth dyed burgundy with a dark brown sable collar, her hair was dressed simply in a long braid interwoven with gold thread. Mirella eschewed the traditional hennin headdress and veil as there were no lady’s maids to attend to her. The young girls all fled once they learned the fate of the servant girl from the kitchens.

  She walked along the ramparts, taking no comfort from the crisp, pine-scented e
vening breeze as she was wont to do before… well, before. Instinctively, her hand reached between her breasts for the cross which was no longer there. Would it bring her comfort if it were? Could she somehow return to the dutiful penitent?

  No. God had betrayed her. Her vow stood.

  Leaning against the stone wall, she absently carved the word wanderer into the stone with her sharp fingernail.

  Wanderer.

  She vividly remembered the tales from her childhood of the feared strigoi. Troubled spirits with magical abilities who wandered the earth at night, feasting on the blood of their victims. It was often said to be the fate of those who defied God’s will and took their own life.

  Vampyre.

  Was that her fate?

  Then so be it… but she wouldn’t accept it alone.

  Tilting her head back, she inhaled deeply. Vlad’s scent was in the air long before she saw him. The tang of metal and sweat mixed with blood. The scent of a man baptized in the bloody waters of battle since he was a youth.

  “My prince,” greeted Mirella with a slight bow to her head.

  He looked resplendent in his armor. A thick wool cloak dyed a vivid purple and lined with black bear fur was draped over one shoulder, partially covering the seal of the order of the dragon which was hammered into the armor plate over his chest.

  In his hand was fisted a large piece of sheep’s skin. On a piece of twisted rope, the wax seal of the Hungarian kingdom dangled from its edge

  “A message from the court of Ladislaus has arrived?”

  “The man has the befuddled mind of an ox,” ground out Vlad as he shoved the missive from the King of Hungary into her hands.

  Mirella read the king’s response to Vlad’s request for reinforcements in his battle against the infidels.

  “Does he not see the Ottomans will crush the Christian cities of Europe if we let them overrun Wallachia?” asked Vlad as his fists pounded the harsh stones of the battlement in frustration. She could see from the set of his shoulders that his large body was rigid with anger.