Bleed [non/dubcon, vampire, blood, mindbreak]

The thing doesn’t bleed – that’s Gabriela’s first clue – no matter how hard she claws and tears at it. And it is a thing, she quickly realises, and not a man as she’d initially thought. It looks like one, moves like one, whispers like one, but when she manages to drag her nails down its arm, it’s cool to the touch and completely bloodless. She’s never held much interest or belief in anything supernatural, but now the only two thoughts that she can comprehend through her panic are ‘NOT HUMAN’ and ‘GET AWAY’.

Whatever it is that found her in the dark is not anything familiar.

It’s pinning her to the ground, hard packed dirt beneath her and a hard body above, crushing her into the earth with what feels like muscles of stone. Pure strength, more than she could ever hope to attain, let alone overpower.

“Calm down,” it urges, voice low and hypnotic, infused with something that makes her shudder and shiver in equal measure. “You’ll like it soon enough, sweet thing.”

And before she can even begin to protest or cry for help, it’s at her neck, faster than she can blink. And then teeth – needlelike and ice cold teeth – sink into her neck.

Gabriela thinks she screams, but she can’t be sure with the rush of sensation that floods her body and addles her mind a split second after it pierces her. Her body involuntarily convulses, then goes limp on the ground as what feels like a wave of pure adrenaline courses over her and then just as quickly fades into something else. It seems that every nerve in her body simmers with low, prickling heat, coalescing in the pit of her stomach like glowing embers. The pain in her neck is reduced to a distant throb, though each throb shoots another pulse of something indescribable through her. Indescribable, but also the most euphoric and addictive thing she’s ever experienced.

“There you go, lovely.” That voice reaches through the haze of her mind, and it’s the only thing that matters. “Good, isn’t it?”

Yes, yes, it’s good, it’s more than good, but her tongue feels heavy and useless in her mouth. That voice steals all her attention, compels her, but she can’t muster a response past a stuttering moan that would mortify her if she had the mental capacity to hear herself.

“I can make you feel even better.”

The sensation, the pleasure, finally takes a more recognisable form when a cold hand slides down her side, slips under the waistband of her leggings. It coils into arousal, hot and suddenly, maddeningly overwhelming. It shifts from a desire to a need, and a gasp pulls itself harshly from her throat. She squirms, feeling the throbbing relocate to between her legs. Her muscles clench futilely, desperate for something she can’t fully identify. And she feels so hot, so desperate – more than she ever has before. Her mind is gone, but her body knows what she needs. It feels like she’ll die without it.

“Please,” is all she can muster, but it understands. “Please, please, please.”

The creature’s other hand tilts her head to the side, further exposing her neck, but she barely even notices the lips and teeth against her skin. The hand at her hip withdraws, and she somehow feels colder without the icy skin against her, but before she can whine at the loss of contact, it effortlessly tears her leggings from her body. The rush of cool night air is a shock, but not half as much as when the hand is immediately pressing between her trembling thighs.

She cries out, high and helpless, when two of those long fingers breach her up to the knuckle in one fluid movement. Something in the back of her mind screams that it must hurt, panicked enough to almost draw her out of the fog, but the next second she processes that she feels nothing but the slick slide of cold skin against her hot walls – she’s wet, wetter than she’s ever been, and the realisation sends another rush of liquid heat through her. She whimpers, tenses and clenches on the intruding fingers, but they easily slide in and out of her for a few seconds before they withdraw. She’s quickly given another, and the haze in her head lulls her back into blissful senselessness, just heat and pleasure and the exhilarating tingle of feeling all through her body. It’s floating, untethered, as her consciousness drips away into nothing but desire.

Time and everything else that once mattered melt away, become irrelevant and meaningless. They seem to cease to exist when it penetrates her. Gabriela barely feels the fingers stroking her insides, withdrawing, the press of something thicker parting her lower lips and nudging at her still tight entrance. She feels the entry though, feels the burn and stretch that somehow shoots pleasure down her spine rather than pain. A reedy cry rings out, broken when the thing’s vicious thrust knocks the air from her lungs.

The creature clearly doesn’t need such trivial things as air.

It’s suddenly moving in and out, hard and fast and ruthless, and again there are teeth in her neck. Her head spins, the forest floor in front of her eyes blurring and tilting. She gasps and moans, feeling it’s relentless pistoning in and out of her; it fucks like a machine, hammering her at a constant but by no means merciful pace. Distantly, she can hear wet, slick noises, the slap of skin, her own ragged panting against the ground, the mouth at her neck and the sucking and lapping at the wound she’d almost forgotten was there.

Everything within her feels to be tightening, tensing, building. It demands to break, but the climb seems never ending. It constricts her chest, heart and lungs. The only thing that seems to be keeping her body going is each sharp thrust forcing the air in her in and out.

And then a cold hand slides down under her, where she absentmindedly realises she’s been desperately rutting against the scraps of her leggings into the ground. When fingers close around her clit, she can’t manage the moan that tries to escape her, far too breathless.

It’s saying something to her, something low and sweet in that voice again. She can’t make out the words, but they flow over and through her. They’re tempting, urging, pushing her towards something, and she can’t know or care whether good or bad.

Then it pinches her, hard, and the tightness inside of her snaps.

Climax hits her like a tidal wave, more like drowning than anything else, filling her chest and lungs and throat with searing liquid pleasure. She can feel herself pulsing and clenching hard around the length inside her, still moving. It’s somehow faster – or maybe it just feels faster – but each slide of skin against hers only seems to drag the orgasm out longer, until it’s all she can do to pant helplessly as sensation rocks through her body. She’s alight, every nerve crying out.

But it doesn’t stop. Even when the seemingly endless high fades, the mouth at her throat, the cock in her pussy, keep going and going. She’s trembling, she thinks, barely aware past the twin points of overwhelming sensation. It’s no longer pleasure, but not quite pain, just feeling beyond words, just teetering over the edge of ‘too much’, but never even slowing in its relentless assault. She thinks she starts pleading again, but her words are barely comprehensible within her own head.

It’s agony, it’s wonderful, it’s everything and she can’t take it, and it never ends-

Until, finally, it does. With a thrust more like a punch, it hilts itself in her pussy, hard and deep.

When the thing comes inside her, it’s hot. Its seed seems to be the only thing that has any heat to it, and its blistering as it coats her insides. It stays like that for a long moment, buried and twitching, until it slowly slips out.

Her ears are ringing, body still shaking and twitching as it withdraws – or she thinks it does, as the presence and weight atop her disappear, but her head keeps spinning and spinning. Whatever it did to her, whatever it was that set her senses alight, seems to remain in her blood, coursing through her. Slower now, like hot tar in her veins, but just as thick and sticky. She can still feel it’s release, now dripping from her, still hot against her skin.

The chill of the night is setting in, biting where her skin is exposed, and that’s what seems to clear her head a little. She manages a steadier breath, blinks slowly as the dirt and leaves at her eye level slowly slide back into focus. Sounds return, somewhere far in the distance cricket chirps reach her ears. For a while, it’s all she can do to lay there and breathe; when she finally pulls herself up, aching and slow on shaking arms, and turns to gingerly assess her injuries. When she presses a hand to her neck, she’s surprised to find no bleeding, just tacky remnants of blood clinging to her fingers. Between her legs is a different story. When she manages to turn herself onto her back and looks down, even in the moonlight it’s easy to see the wetness there. Seed and blood – white streaked with rivers of dark red – slowly drip out of her, smear across her thighs, stain her rags of leggings and the forest floor.

It’s a long time before she manages to pull herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her a few times; even longer before she manages the slow creep home. Thankfully not too far, but far enough that fear and something else entirely settle deep within her. It’s dark all around, barely moonlit, but every glance over her shoulder she swears she sees glinting eyes somewhere in the gloom. It’s gone, she promises herself, long gone. She reminds herself as she rushes inside, barely caring who sees her in such a wrecked state. It’s gone, and she’s safe.

It’s gone, as she scrubs herself in the shower. It’s gone, as she reaches down with shaking hands and fingers herself through an orgasm that has her muffling a cry into her palm. It’s gone, and she’ll never see it again, and she’ll never ever again experience anything like it again.

Unless, maybe, she keeps going for late night runs.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rk38we/bleed_nondubcon_vampire_blood_mindbreak