CONTENT WARNING: Scenes of graphic violence, scenes of rape, scenes of death.
(( Hey there, guy with the ironic name here, if you’ve read my stories before, well thank you firstly. Second, this isn’t gonna be the new normal or anything, I’m a romantic and can’t help that. Though I’m also not content to just have one flavor of ice cream if ya catch my drift. So here’s this. My vampire fetish. Note: I do not condone the actions of any single character in this work of fiction. Consent is King. ))
Men were dying, being torn to shreds by nothing but hands, having their throats and faces torn at by teeth. The grand hallway was covered in blood, it ran down the stone floors, it had splashed over paintings, coated the walls, some even dripped from the ceiling above. In the center of it all was a woman, some tatters of a dress still clung to her body, the pieces wet and sticky with mortal vitae. Her body was lean and thin, with long, well defined legs and slender arms and hands. Her short hair was covered in blood, sticking it to her head and hiding the color. She was an otherworldly beauty, with a visage that should belong among the Goddesses. Her eyes featured irises of the bright red color which coated her skin, and they were aglow with delight.
She held a man by the throat at her side, with the ease a grown man might hold a kitten by the scruff of their neck. He spasmed occasionally, his body still desperate for air, still fighting for survival. Foamed spit and blood covered his lips and ran down his chin, he would die even if he was somehow rushed away to a chirurgeon. She dropped him, as if bored, and as his head cracked against the stone floor, she stepped over him towards her end goal. The massive door to the throne room had been made with defense in mind, with large steel bands bolted across the thick planks of wood. It was an impressive piece of work and nearly unbreakable, but she had time, and fresh servants. As she studied the door she cast her gaze upward towards it’s frame, that’s when she saw the glint of metal poking out of a small hold between bricks, and heard the string crank of a crossbow clicking as it was drawn into place.
Above the doorway in the next room, atop a wooden catwalk were a dozen men, six holding crossbows at the ready, and another six behind ready to hand the firing line another. Each man was shoulder to shoulder, pressing their bolts through the kill holes and waiting for the order to unleash. Below them were another dozen men, four of them had long pikes, six had spears, and two were armed with swords. In tight formation they pressed against the door, ready to explode through the portal and into battle. Their Captain had his ear pressed tight to the wood, listening, he’d heard the man hit the ground, and listened to her approach. Then nothing. A tense moment passed, he had to make a call, spring or don’t.
“Fire!!” He roared suddenly cutting through the silence, on the other side of the door the woman took off towards the turned individuals around her, sending a frantic mental command to them. ‘Shield me!’ A first bolt punched into her back and out through her front in a spray of gore, as her blood filled stomach was ripped open. The force pitched her towards the ground, another hole was made near her shoulder, another shattered the bone of her shin before she even hit the ground. She shrieked, not in pain or in fear, just in fury, in unfathomable rage as she felt her shields pile over her, knowing they were now trapping her beneath them. She could hear the second salvo ripping through their bodies an instant later, at the same time the door burst open, slamming into the wall with the force of men behind it. They roared their defiance, their own hateful fury, as battle began and they began to slay the mindless corpses protecting their mistress. She tried to find purchase, to scramble away, but her useful foot slipped on the gore coating the floors and her undamaged arm could find no grip upon the stone, the other was trapped beneath her. The damage was severe, but not fatal, not to her. Then the blows began, a downpour of spear and pike, punching through what remained of the reanimated atop her body.
“Pin the cunt! Marcus, get the silver shackles! Four of ya’s make sure her Ghouls stay dead!” The Captain barked as he walked towards the woman, writhing and thrashing with several polearms buried into her body, held by large and powerful men.
“You stupid bitch! We had a deal!” The Captain kicked her hard with his steel plated boot as he rounded her head.
“My pact was with King Murdaus! Not with his court of traitors and weaklings!” She screamed, the powerful kick doing nothing but leaving a mark on her head which quickly sealed. “It certainly was not with you. Jakab the Sullied.” She spit his name and title with all the venom she could bring to her voice, as she twisted against the polearms. One of the men grunted with effort as he pushed hard against the pole.
“Did you say something?!” Jakab snapped his head towards the man. The man quickly put his head down, his grip tightening on the spear, fear crossing his face. “Good.”
Without his helmet Jakab was not a handsome man by any means, too many brutal scars had twisted his face, his nose had been flattened by his helmet, his ears cauliflowered from fighting. Marcus walked beside him in stark contrast, with his traditionally handsome features, completely unmarked and with none of the ugliness war often bestowed upon people. Both had plain brown hair, Marcus simply had a full head of it, and both had vivid blue eyes which were often filled with either entitlement or spite, depending on whom they fell on. They were heading towards the dungeons, to join their men, and celebrate their victory the way spiteful and entitled men often do in times of chaos.
As they rounded a corner they were met with the sudden glow of torchlight, and the overwhelming smell of liquor. Their men, the survivors, had gathered here with their spoils. Stolen jewels and gold, fine liquors and clothes, and whatever else they could find that interested them. Tomorrow the kingdom would come falling down, devoid of any leadership, with such a great amount of soldiers dead, it would be a meteoric fall. They knew this realm would be absorbed, as so many others had, by the rising empire at their border.
In the far side of the room, chained to the wall, was the woman. The silver shackles had left angry looking burns in the flesh around her wrists and she was hoisted in such a way to be exposed for all to see. She’d been cleaned somewhat, mainly with buckets of cold water, and the wounds in her body had all but closed, leaving not but marks in their place. She stared at them as they approached, but much to Jakab’s anger she was not fearful, or pleading, she looked bored, unamused, and nearly relaxed. As she saw them she focused her gaze on Marcus, looking at him, her eyes widened and she shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Jakab again felt his anger bubbling inside him, this time a jealous and hateful anger. ‘Did it surprise her he was here, was that it? Did she expect him but not Marcus, and why is she afraid of him, and not me?’ Jakab clenched his jaw, and tightened his fist, pushing down an urge to swing on his brother and begin.
“Well well well, look at this. Quite a sight.” Marcus said, with an arrogant grin, his voice low but with none of the gravel and grumble of his brother. “The infamous Lady Vendrisil, or can I call ya, Viviane?” Viviane remained quiet, not meeting his eyes, and tensing as he leaned in.
“No games, brother. I have no mood for your theatrics.” Jakab snapped, which made Marcus jump slightly. He eyed Viviane, starting at her plump breasts and traveling down towards the raven black hair just above her exposed sex. He then turned and pointed to one of his men. “You! Oil, now!”
He turned back, expecting to see that fear he craved, as he did she turned her gaze back to Marcus and suddenly he understood. He rushed forward and grabbed her by the throat, holding her to the wall at an arm’s length.
“You stupid whore. Do you think this is a game? Trying to get a rise from me is not a good idea.” He growled at her through bared teeth. “Where’s the fucking oil!!” He turned and screamed towards the room which went deathly quiet.
Marcus had stepped back, knowing better than to get involved in his brother’s moods, and watched like everyone else. Morbidly curious as to what Jakab had planned, how far he would take it. This was part of the fun after all, he just hoped his brother didn’t break their toy too early.
“Do you have a problem rising, Jakab? Poor little soldier.” Viviane said, loudly, loud enough for the room to hear. Jakab struck her across the face with a closed fist, hard enough to break bone, the crack sounded with an echo in the stone room.
“Hopefully you fuck harder than you hit. Little soldier.” She mocked again. Turning to look at Jakab, her right eye was misshapen in its socket just long enough for him to see before seeming to fill back in. Jakab reeled back another blow and fired, again striking near her eye, he pulled back and punched again, and again, and again. After beating her till his hand began to go numb he quickly stripped and whipped his clothes away angrily. His body was as scared as his face, but heavily muscled, it was a wonder to some he hadn’t popped her head yet. Blood ran down the wall where her head had viciously bounced from the blows, her nose was bleeding freely as well, her lip was split, and her right eye had swollen shut. This time the healing was slow, and Jakab grinned, she was finally out of steam. The man sent for the oil quickly approached and set it down near the brother’s before practically running away, fearful of earning any of Jakab’s notorious ire.
“There are about thirty of us here.” He said as he picked up the jug and threw the oil onto Viviane’s body. Scooping some with his hand he forced it into her sex, lubing her up for his enjoyment.
“Then hopefully som-” he struck her again before she could finish, then jammed himself into her, he’d been hard since the moment he felt the give of her bone under his fist. He could feel the resistance as she tried to close up, he knew it had all been a play and laughed as he used her, slamming her wildly. She tried to pull herself away, tried to squirm but he wasn’t going to let her get away from him. He grabbed one of her breasts and yanked it down as he forced his cock deeper, he wanted to hear her scream, and she did just that. Her agonized cry was ecstasy for Jakab as he violated her, took from her his spoils. She started to thrash, trying desperately to escape him, he grinned at the futility of it, and pressed her against the wall with his body.
“Jakab!!” Marcus screamed his brother’s name as Viviane bit into his neck in a sudden lunge, her mouth having opened wider than he would have thought possible, she had sunk her teeth into the center of Jakab’s thick neck. He could see her gnashing, biting, could hear the popping and snapping of sinew, and cartilage. She yanked both her hands free, degloving one hand almost entirely as the other snapped in half to pull free. It was all going wrong, and worse still they were trapped in a room with one exit. She’d played them, like fools, he’d been so interested in seeing Jakab dismantle her, and Jakab so interested in her body, so caught up in his blind, stupid, rage.
Viviane looked up at Marcus and met his eyes, the skin on her hand had grown back quickly as she drank from Jakab and she now gripped the chain holding her leg. Her folded hand smashed Jakab’s head at an angle, popping it into the correct shape. As it rapidly healed she dug her fingers deep into Jakab’s scalp, who thrashed with agony, fear, panic. He could feel himself drowning in his own blood, like the man they’d left outside the door, then the pain grew worse he could feel her loosen her bite only for him to be ripped from her jaws. He hit the ground, still not dead, only able to hope it would take him soon, his body was no longer listening to his requests to move. Despite the blood pooling under his back, and covering his chest from his last sputtering attempts to clear his airway, he felt ice cold.
Marcus hadn’t moved an inch, he found himself too shocked, too terrified, he’d heard others taking desperate flight but there he stood, watching, transfixed. Viviane was once again bloodied, it ran down her breasts, over her stomach, down between her legs. This was a vampire, an apex predator which hunted mankind, and they’d tried to use her for their own pleasure. As he internally began to chastise himself, he heard the same sentiment echo from Viviane.
“How could I be so stupid. That’s what you’re thinking isn’t it? How indeed.” Using the same trick as her hands, she freed one of her legs, pulling the chain taut and ripping away the flesh of her ankle and foot to squirm free of the shackle.
“I led you along, every step of the way.” She said, pointing at him with her freed foot as the flesh quickly grew back, spreading down her leg and over each digit. Lowering it and planting it on the ground she worked at freeing her other leg, this time much more quickly as she used her hands to push the shackle off as she yanked her leg out, never making a sound of pain or discomfort.
“I made a show of signing a pact with an old man, knowing he was old. Knowing two ambitious teens, who saw the old man as weak.” Her other foot touched the ground as it healed, and she began to walk forward, stepping over the corpse of Jakab.
“No.. That..” Marcus stuttered, his eyes going wide.
“Is impossible?” She said, mockingly, “Don’t make me laugh. Nothing is impossible.”
She was on him in a blur of motion, pinning him to the ground, her hands forcing his own to the cold stone above his head. His vision swam from the impact of his skull against the floor, he could smell the blood on her skin, his brother’s blood. Her voice was miles away but somehow crystal clear, swimming into his thoughts.
“I own you, Marcus. ” He tried to scream and to cry out, but it wouldn’t come, he tried to move and struggle, but found himself paralyzed. As his vision cleared he saw her there, sitting on his lap, grinning the same vicious and sinister way they’d grinned at her. She reached down and opened his pants, then put her hand on his member, he could feel the blood rush to it, unbidden and undesired.
“I’m manipulating your blood, your body, you can think of your idiot brother, dead behind us, and it’ll still rise to my touch. I could slam hot pokers into your ribs and you’d still be rock hard. You’re lucky you’re handsome, and I feel so unfulfilled. If you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll see the Sun again.” Marcus felt his body loosen, he couldn’t move much, but he was no longer entirely, torturously rigid.
“How does it feel, to have your choice taken from you, Marcus? To have your life led to this moment, being used by a woman you had chained to a wall?” There was a moment of silence between them, then he screamed as her nails dug into the flesh of his phallus.
“Don’t you fucking ignore me. When I ask you a question you respond.”
“You evil cunt! Just fuckin kill me!” She slammed a closed fist down into his stomach in reply, forcing all the air from Marcus’s lungs.
“Evil? You must be joking. I can smell the old blood, the fear laden piss, you killed people down here. Tortured them, for amusement.” Viviane spoke as she manipulated him to slip inside. His face was the picture of disbelief.
“Oh yes I know. I know every little detail. You’d stand there watching your brother violate people with your dick in your hand. Never one to sully your own body with blood, you could always manipulate, poor, stupid Jakab into doing whatever sick act you were too cowardly and weak to perform yourself. You’re a worm Marcus, now writhe, and attempt to save your life.”
There was a moment of hesitation, then he tried to move, and found he still couldn’t. He felt himself begin to break down, he wouldn’t survive this, she was toying with him, literally playing with her food. She clicked her tongue, and looked at him, disappointed, and somehow that stung like a knife to the chest. She started to move on her own, grinding him in and out of her, each movement making wet noises as she grew aroused at wielding her dominion and power. She began to bounce herself up and down, squeezing her breasts with both hands, letting her grip slide down to her nipples which she twisted and pulled. Marcus writhed, just as he’d been told, partly in pleasure, partly out of a desperate desire to survive. He felt like he was going to burst already, he tried to hold back, twitching wildly.
“Awww. Gonna cum already Marcus? Just like a human, unable to help themself, a slave to their body.” Her voice was tinged with moans as she bounced harder on his cock. She leaned forward, and Marcus moved harder, she put her hands around his throat and began to squeeze. He tried to scream but it was cut off as her fingers dug into his windpipe. She grinned at him, like a child tormenting a bug, her fangs on full display, and as she choked him, he came. She pressed down on him hard and moaned loudly, sitting back up as she released his throat. He took a panicked and desperate breath of air, then coughed, his throat hurt so bad and he could taste blood in his mouth. Despite it all, he was still hard, fearful tears ran out the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t move his arms to wipe them away. He tried to turn his head away but she grabbed him by the jaw and twisted his head to the side leaning over him once more and bringing herself down towards his neck.
He felt her fangs touch his skin, like two large needles, felt them sink into his flesh slowly, all the while she ground on him. He felt an unbelievable relief as her fangs slid free, then felt her tongue run over the wounds. She locked her mouth on his neck and sucked deeply with her lips, drawing free more blood. He could feel her tighten everytime her tongue touched his wounds, each meeting of their skin was accented by wet noises. He tried to move again, this time not just writhing mindlessly, but pushing himself up to meet her as she dropped her hips down into him.
“Mmm. Good boy.” She said against his skin as she moaned, the tip of her tongue prodding the holes she’d made. The sting of it began to feel good, every touch of her tongue sent shivers into him. Her praise encouraged his movements, she felt so good, so tight, and almost unbearably hot. He began to groan, softly, but otherwise unable to fight the sensations filling his head. She moaned as well, wildly, like an animal fulfilling a need as she slammed herself down into him forcefully. She felt herself about to cum, sitting right on the edge, she opened her mouth wide, and sank her fangs deep into his neck. She yanked her head back as he began to voice a protest, ripping open the insides of his throat with her fangs then pushing herself forward once more. Pinning him down, and locking her mouth down on his neck he managed a single brief, liquidy scream, as she came.
Viviane walked through the empty castle, to the throne room, still fully nude, and came before a throne. An old man was pinned to the massive slab of ancient wood by two longswords, in his lap was a bloodied crown, and clenched in his fist was a length of chain. She recognized it immediately.
“Oh Jason..” She whispered, agony radiating her tone. As the waning moonlight was cut by the clouds, and the room was cast in total darkness, she vanished. A single word carried on the wind which whistled through the empty keep.
“Farewell.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/r7sgl7/blood_queen_mmf_violence_gore_blood_rape_bondage