My Big Titty Goth GF is a Vampire [lesbian] [virgin] [nerd x vampire] [‘ruby’ necklace] [satire] [erotic…horror?]

MIRANDA LIKED ME!

Holy crow, Miranda liked me!!!

I pitched my backpack onto my bed, too excited to care about the ton of dog eared Anne Rice novels in my bag. (Even if I wasn’t excited, I wouldn’t have cared a whit about the textbooks.) I followed it, landing next to it with a whump on the wrinkled black quilt. Lying there, dressed in my jeans and oversized hoodie, I felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Miranda didn’t care about the acne on my face. Miranda didn’t care that people thought I was weird.

Miranda, my best and only friend, thought I was wonderful.

I still remembered the first time I ever saw her. She was walking through the park, her long black dress disguising her feet, giving her the impression of gliding. I watched her from afar, way too scared to approach. Her skin was ghostly in the night, the full moon making her glow all the more. I must’ve been too obvious, for Miranda came over to me herself, her flowing black hair rippling in the non-existent wind. Her lips, ruby red, parted in a wide smile. “Come here often, pretty?”

“Y-You think I’m pretty?” I stammered out, and the sound of Miranda’s laughter rang like church bells. Except, somehow, a bit more evilly. “I-I mean….I….I live just over there. The big apartment building over on third.” I pointed, trying to keep my hand from shaking.

She laughed again, extending a narrow hand. I took it, delicately. Her skin was like porcelain, her grip solid and cold. “My name is Miranda, pretty one. What are you known as?”

“I’m Samantha. My friends call me Sam,” I swallowed, shaking her hand. Her grip lingered for a few moments longer, and I felt the chill of her touch racing all the way from my fingertips to my heart. I tried to be smooth, tried to play it off like I had friends.

Luckily, she seemed to buy it. “What a pleasure it is to meet you, Sam. Do you know Pokemon Go?”

It took me a few minutes to respond. “Y-Yes! I’m….I’m playing it right now, actually!”

“Oh, good! You see, I got the game recently, but I was never really the age bracket for Pokemon….A friend of mine told me it was a good way to meet people, but I’ve been so nervous about not knowing anything I’ve been too scared to talk to anyone!” Her voice was light, sweet. She extended her phone to me, showing me she was still barely past the intro part of the game.

I took it from her, and thus began the best part of my life.

Miranda and I met up every night from then on. At first, I was curious why she never wanted to get together in the daylight, but soon learned to accept it. Apparently, due to her incredibly sensitive skin and chronic insomnia, she was a permanent night owl. I just got used to being tired during the day, and sleeping between classes. It’s not like I had anyone but her to hang out with, after all, so we lost ourselves in our own little world.

My nights were dreamlike, filled with discussions of popular culture and our own lives. She seemed most interested in my life, sharing tales of her own travels sparingly. I sometimes wished she would tell me more, for a woman who had grown up in Romania, traveled to England, Paris, and New Orleans must have thousands of stories–but, she always steered me away. I learned not to pry, just delighting in the fact that I had someone to talk to.

I remember telling her about being bullied in school, the music I liked, my love for *Buffy the Vampire Slayer.* I told her about my first crushes, about figuring out who I was, and how…lonely I was.

I was scared, at first, that she wouldn’t understand. Or, worse, that she’d judge me. A woman like Miranda, so ethereal, so otherworldly–surely she wouldn’t understand me at all. Surely she’d think me a fool.

But, no. She listened to every word I said, and never judged me once. She never balked when I told her I liked women.She even told me that she enjoyed my company, and I basked in her attention. I basked in the fact I finally found a friend.

Miranda was…beautiful. Her inhuman grace, her ageless skin, and the way her eyes seem to glint red in moonlight. Even her perfect white teeth, with her strangely long canines, sparkled like diamonds. I wanted to lose myself in the abyssal waves of her hair. Bury my face in her massive bosoms. Even though her skin chilled me to the bone, I touched her every chance I had. Every time we shared an ice cream cone (always cherry, at her insistence), her skin was colder than the cone, but I always let my fingers trace along her hand. And she welcomed every touch. Every time her strangely red eyes looked at me, I felt alive. I felt valuable.

And that’s why I was so terrified to tell her I was falling in love with her.

As we got closer and closer, I started…dreaming about her. Heard her voice in my head while I slept. The sound of sweet, silken violin and gentle bells. Sinking me into soft abysses of silk sheets and shadows. I had never slept better in my life, and before I knew it, I was sleeping through breakfast. Then my first class. Then my lunch, and on….

Before I knew it, my entire world became Miranda. Gone were thoughts of my English degree, and visions of becoming the next Anne Rice faded from my mind. The only thing that mattered was Miranda, and our long walks in the moonlight together.

The dreams of her intensified. I stopped waking up in my bed, and had to barricade the door with a chair to stop myself from sleepwalking all the way out to the park. Even while asleep, even while daylight, my body instinctively knew the place where Miranda and I had first met, just beside a sewer grate covered by an oddly shiny manhole cover. Luckily, I had never been one to sleep in the nude (I sleep in a *Buffy the Vampire Slayer* t-shirt), but there was a ROAD between me and the park! I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been hit by a car!

I rolled over, burrowing my head into the bed. I’d gone to class today for the first time in weeks, and I felt D.E.A.D. My mom was definitely not gonna be happy with how my coursework was going, but the sound of bells on the edge of my hearing reassured me that everything would be okay.

Ever since my confession that I was falling in love with her, the sound of bells and violins had not ceased. They swelled through my head, sending sparks of cold through my veins. It felt like Miranda was tracing fingertips through my very soul. The image of her smile when I confessed, marred only by what could only be a slip of the lipstick on her canines. She’d looked so pleased with me, and told me I was such a beautiful, sweet girl.

Beautiful. She thought I was beautiful.

I remember stammering, being so so scared, but she was so gentle with me. She was so soft when she kissed me, even though I think her canines scratched my lower lip when she sucked it into her mouth. I didn’t mention it. There was no blood, after all, and it was my first kiss! I was probably so caught up in the moment that I was just imagining things, for even the tiny marks on my lip faded quickly. After all, Miranda would never hurt me. Right?

The sunlight was fading, and my energy levels were rising. Weird. I guess all I needed to do was relax in bed for an hour or so? I got out of bed, stretching. My stomach was starting to ache with hunger, and I realized I hadn’t eaten a bit all day.

I walked to the window, watching the final bit of sunset fade. The sound of violins and bells intensified, and I felt like Miranda was calling me.

Calling me to the sewer grate.

I didn’t even think as I tugged my sneakers back on, and set off to where Miranda was waiting.

The entire walk to the park, I felt like I was soaring. I felt like I was succumbing to something beautiful, enthralled by my love for Miranda. That was the word–enthralled. I was under her thrall.

She wasn’t waiting for me at the sewer grate, but the manhole cover was half off of the hole, the last beams of light not even broaching the darkness below. I pushed it the rest of the way open, not even noticing how my eyes easily sorted through the shadows to find the rungs of the ladder. The rungs were smooth, clean, well-maintained, and the air smelled of roses, rust, and a hint of musk. The soft warmth of torchlight welcomed me as my feet finally hit the bottom of the tunnel, and it wasn’t the only thing that welcomed me.

“Hello, my pretty one.”

“M-Miranda!” I spun, nearly slipping on the smooth metal. Though the place I found myself in was extraordinary, a cavernous room of roses, candles, and pillows–my eyes only focused on Miranda. My Miranda.

My beautiful, beautiful Miranda.

Gone was her trademark black dress, with its trailing lace and tight corset. In its place was a robe of red silk, belted at the waist with a black lace belt. Her skin was awash in torchlight, waves of black and red flowing across her skin. She walked towards me, extending both her hands. I couldn’t move, ice sinking into my skin. My face contorted into a goofy grin, I welcomed her hands as they traced across my shoulders and down my back, pulling me into her. I melted into her, my face finally coming to rest in her massive chest. A distant part of my mind was crying out in embarrassment, but to finally be able to bury my face in her opulent chest was bliss. The silken pillows smothered out all thoughts as she rubbed my back, and my mind faded away.

“I love you, Miranda,” I murmured into her chest. “You’re the best thing in my life.”

Miranda chuckled, the sound echoing around the cavern and inside my mind. “And I share the sentiment, though not in the same words. You’re…innocent, little Sam. Innocent in a way I haven’t been for so long. I so enjoy your company, your honesty.”

I whimpered into her arms, my eyes closed. The heat of my body leaked into Miranda’s, and I felt her shiver. “What do you want with me?”

“I want you to stay by my side, Sam. I want you to always be my side.” Her lips pressed against my forehead, my cheek, moving down towards my neck. “I want you to stay mine forever.”

“D-Do you mean move into this suspiciously large and ornate sewer tunnel with you?” I shivered, my head slumping to the side.

All at once, Miranda was shaking. Full body shaking. Her voice echoed loudly enough I feared the tunnel would collapse, laughing with every inch of her being. Her chest bounced, and I found myself smothered back into it.

Feeling a little hurt, I asked, “M-Miranda? Why are you laughing?”

“Your *innocence*, Sam, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. For someone like me, for someone who has seen and done countless cruel things….Your innocence is the vanilla to my cherry.” Her hands pressed against my cheeks, and her lips pressed to mine.

The sweetness of her lips, the smooth insistence of her tongue, the pressure of her teeth….I lost myself in the textures and tastes of my Miranda. The smell of roses and copper drowned out every other sense, my eyes useless in the flickering torches that went out one by one, until only a few were left lit.

With soft hands, Miranda pressed me backwards, her lips never leaving mine. I stumbled back, before my left sneaker heel caught on a pillow, and sent us both tumbling down. We landed in a den of softness, her body above mine, poised and ready. The fall had broken our kiss, and now she sat straddling me, the part of her legs opening up her robe.

My mouth dropped open. I-I could see–

“Do you want to taste me as much as I want to taste you, my pretty one? Do you want to taste your Mistress?” Miranda whispered, slender fingers undoing the ribbon of her robe. It slipped slowly from silvery pale skin, revealing the most perfect breasts I had ever seen.

My tongue lolled out of my mouth, unconsciously pleading. With a breathy chuckle, she provided, pressing her dusky pink nipple between my lips. I suckled hungrily, needily, finding at last the only thing that mattered in the world. My hands unabashedly reached for her shoulders, holding her in place. Miranda’s soft moans sounded better than any symphony I had ever heard.

Here, in this strange cavern below the park, I was home.

I was home with my Miranda….

My Mistress.

She shifted above me, pulling her breast from my lips. I mewled, trying to reach for her, but her finger on my forehead kept me still. “I want you to taste me somewhere else. Will you do that for me, Sam?”

My breath hitched, and I could barely manage a nod. Yet that was enough, for Mistress lifted herself up on her knees and moved forward, her surprisingly thick thighs smothering my ears. In the candlelight, I could barely make out the curves of her womanhood, the flickering beads of her arousal. Breaking the spell, she lowered herself onto my waiting tongue.

She tastes of cherries.

I lapped at it, slowly, unsure. I’d seen porn once or twice, but now….Now I had no idea what I was doing. I knew I just needed more.

I licked harder, faster, the tip of my tongue caressing her clit. Mistress started to squirm above me, her delicate juices dripping onto my lips and cheeks. Above me, the torchlight still danced across her pale skin and face. Her ruby red lips were parted in a smile.

“Suck on it, pretty one….”

I obliged, suctioning my lips around what I prayed was her clit. She bucked above me, nearly pulling herself free, but her hands suddenly gripping my hair didn’t let that happen. The sharp pain brought tears to my eyes, but I didn’t care.

I was making my Mistress Miranda happy.

With every lick and lap and flick, I was making her moan. I was making her squirm. I was finally doing what I was born to do.

I was finally home, between her legs.

So what if my lungs were aching, if my eyes were wet with tears from her grip on my hair? So what if my tongue and jaw felt like they hated their very existence? I was making Mistress happy.

I was making Mistress cum, hard enough she fell sideways, dragging me with her all the while.

And it was this dragging that changed everything.

Some of my hair came out in her fist, and drew blood.

Miranda froze, releasing my hair. Her voice came out, hoarse and filled with tension, “Did….Did I hurt you?”

“P-Please don’t feel bad, Mistress! You just pulled out some of my hair. And head wounds always bleed a lot!” I pressed my hand to my scalp, terrified I’d drip it all over her pretty pillows.

“You….You need to leave, Samantha. You need to leave now.”

My heart just…ceased to exist. My muscles no longer responded. “W-What? Leave?”

“Yes. Leave. Run. Now. Get–get out of here, Sam.” Miranda balked from my touch, scurrying away from me on her hands and knees, dragging her robe along with her. The torches near her went out, and the last image of my Mistress was that of her curled into a ball beneath her robe.

“I….I didn’t do good? Mistress, I’m sorry. Please, please Mistress. I didn’t mean to upset you. Tell me what I did wrong, Mir-Mistress. Please! You asked me to stay here forever.” I shook at every word, a sob punctuating nearly every sentence. I started crawling towards her, the still bleeding scalp wound inconsequential to the agony piercing through my soul.

“Sam….Sam, it’s not you. I know this sounds like such absolute bullshit, but I promise, it’s not you. I-I’m….I’m a….” Her voice broke off, fading into what sounded like an animalistic growl.

“I don’t understand,” I whimpered, finally reaching the spot where she had crawled off to. I found her robe there, but it was empty. Where was she?

Her voice came from behind me.

“I told you to leave. I can’t keep fighting. Sam, I’m….I’m sorry.”

My Mistress’ arms embraced me from behind, crushing me to her chest. Her cool breath wafted across my neck, before bright flashes of pain flooded through my body.

Mistress had bitten me.

And it was the best thing I had ever felt.

Every lap of her tongue, every bit of suction, every bit of sharp pain connected every nerve I had with flashes of ecstasy. The music of bells and violins swelled, drowning out every thought. The wet, animalistic sounds of her feeding on my blood was punctuated by the sounds of my own moans, made louder when her hands tore open my tshirt. Her nails dug into the flesh of my small breasts, tugging them from their protective cups. The half-moons of pain from her nails added to the twisted encompassing me.

My vision was growing dark. Her right hand slipped down my pants and panties, flicking across my clit. I shook with every movement, eyes rolling, panting cries echoing. “Mistress, I-I’m going to–”

“Cum for me, oh my beautiful one. Cum for me.”

With the final heartbeats of my life, I came for my Mistress. A final crescendo of life, ecstasy, and innocent beauty in her cavern full of roses and rust.

– – – –

I wrote this largely while insanely sleep-deprived. This may have been some of the most fun I have ever had writing. It is also one of the stupidest. I don’t know why she tastes like cherries. Let’s move on with our lives.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hev8el/my_big_titty_goth_gf_is_a_vampire_lesbian_virgin