The Hearths of Blairmoor pt. 2 [F/M] [Passionate] [Solo] [Moody] [Fantasy] [kidnapping]

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/y1u632/a_story_for_the_spooky_season_the_hearths_of/)

Lord Marcian Iscariot looked down at Niccola with fascination and then pity. He lifted her up with ease and leaped back towards the castle with superhuman agility.

“You…uuu bas-bastard….” She stammered, her jaw swollen and her teeth chattered.

“Quiet Niccola.” He said calmly, jumping from the ground, to a thick branch on an oak tree and then clear over the castle wall. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What the hell did you think would happen? Have you not been a vampire long ? ” she spat through clenched teeth.

“It’s not that.” He jumped again, through the open window of one of the towers of the castle

He set her in a bed, the same room where she had gotten ready for dinner, she was writhing in his arms, struggling against him but he seemed indifferent, he squeezed harder, and she was powerless against him

The heat of the fire left the bedchamber at a balmy temperature and he placed her in the four-poster canopy bed.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this,” he produced a dirk from his belt, its metal blade glistening in the firelight, Niccola looked on in terror as he brought the knife to her chest and slashed at the laces on her bustier, severing them all in one effortless slice. While she was glad she was alive , she feared what he would do next, next he sliced at the ties of her skirt and robe, which he pulled away leaving her in nothing but a damp white chemise, a helpless victim at his mercy.

“I apologise for the immodesty, you need to be comfortable”

She looked up at him, unable to form a sentence but she was disgusted and angry, more comfortable? as he wined her, bit her, poisoned her, chased her through the woods and now kidnapped her against her will? and he was worried about her comfort ?!

“The transformation is rough and our wounds don’t heal like that of a mortal, especially ones incurred during the transformation itself. If you break your ribs trying frantically to breath against a bustier, you may have to live forever with that wound.” He said softly.

I suppose he thinks I should be grateful. She thought, the second she had the ability to control her movement again, she thought about grabbing that dirk and plunging it into his throat.

“There will be a lot to explain, later when you’re not. ” He looked at her writhing body, “Indisposed. Just know this was an accident. The curse of being a vampire is never spread on purpose, only some people have this reaction to the bite.” He sighed. “I suppose you’re one of the lucky ones.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “There are advantages of course, that tingling you are feeling are impurities and diseases being purged from your body, previous maladies and disorders are going to be cured by the end of the night.” She didn’t want to admit it was true, but she did notice the rheumatism in her knees was faded, but with the amount of pain and perverse joy she was feeling she could be forgiven for not noticing.

“You will be preserved as you are for quite some time, and yes you can go out in the sun, but it will rob you of any advantages of being a vampire. If you spend too long in direct sunlight, you will have to go through this process again as the curse restores you to this state.”
Who is this fool to be selling me on the finer points of being cursed? Again, she sneered to convey the words on her mind she could not form

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to bear children of your own. ”
NOT A CONCERN OF MINE She thought, drool running down her cheek.
“You will be able to eat, drink and indulge in any substance you find particularly to your liking, but you will never starve to death… as long as you feed at least once every moon, and you’ll never hunger for anything else.”
“I thirst for revenge!” she managed to utter.
“Shh shhh shhh” he said, kissing her forehead “We can speak in the morning.”
We can speak in hell for that’s where you’ve damned us to was the last thing she thought before the violent confluence of sensations rendered her unconscious.

She awoke to the crackling of the fire, she noticed some of the logs that had been stacked beside the fireplace had been thrown in, Marician must have kept vigil for a while and stoked the fires while he waited. On her bedside table there were the leftovers from the dessert she had abandoned and a basin for washing with a note that read: “You won’t be able to study your appearance in any silver-backed mirror, but you can see your reflection in water. The change is not that significant to anyone who did not already know you well, though you may be surprised at the results.” She looked into the basin, though the only light was from the fire, her lips looked darker, her skin fairer, more angular and her blue eyes had taken on a more silver tone. The note was correct. She did look different but she wasn’t disappointed. She allowed herself for a second an indulgence in the sins of pride and vanity as a consolation for her present state.

She took the cloth from the basin and rubbed her neck and chest with it, wiping away the remainder of her sweat. When she looked down at the bed she saw the human sized wet spot where she had been laying for an indeterminate amount of time. She stood up to study herself in the mirror by the door which she did gracefully, without pain in her joints and felt as sly as a cat, her footsteps not making a sound against the flagstone floor. She realised the note was true, she did not see herself in the mirror! She grabbed one of the creme brulees off the table to prove that it would work and the dish hovered in the air in the reflection. She took a bite to see if it would appear in her closed mouth, it did not, only showing up when she opened her mouth in a gross violation of table manners.

The revelation was shocking but not as much as how good the sweet dessert tasted in her mouth. Like the tingling that flowed through her body the taste was magnified and danced on her tongue like she was entertaining starlight on her palate. She sat back down on the bed, and wondered.

She absentmindedly ran her hand along the bed to the fur blanket and her hands sparked with tactile sensation, this fur was the softest she had ever felt but it was still the same fur that had been on her bed when she had gotten ready only hours prior. It was like this curse amplified every pleasant sensation from taste to touch, the chemise she was wearing was one from home, relatively cheaply made so she could wear it travelling and it felt like coarse paper against her skin. She wiggled out of it, feeling her skin, as milky smooth, gone were the imperfections of skin dried by cold air and childhood scars, she felt like warm porcelain standing naked in the firelight.

Embarrassed by her immodesty she went to the closet and found a wardrobe which had been stocked with old clothes, the chemise she found was made of a light, sheer fabric, soft as silk, if this is what Lord Marcian felt, then she realised his wardrobe was likely dictated much more by touch than visual aesthetic. She slipped it on over her naked body which gave her goosebumps. she collapsed back onto the bed, as luxurious as all this felt, she couldn’t help but feel powerful. It was not the perfect word to describe it but at the moment she could not consider anything else to be as true. she did not feel like she was the sickly daughter of a disgraced banker, she felt she had the poise that the earth itself would let her pass if their paths crossed. It was something she only experienced a few times in her life (edited)

She laid back, running her fingers against her skin, enjoying the feeling of touching and being touched, for a second she felt a pang of regret about the power she felt, though the inner strength was appealing, thinking back to Lord Marcian and how easily he picked her up, and how much she desired him before she knew he was a comrade to Satan, knowing he could simultaneously protect her and have his way with her, holding her well being in the palm of his muscular hands was a titillating feeling. She felt a very specific tingling sensation at the thought, a monster he was but as he cut her clothes off she was truly at his mercy and her hands ran down her body….

She ran her hands down her body, biting her lip, hesitating. Self-stimulating was something she had always been warned against as sinful and unclean but considering her present state, this was the least of the burdens now weighing against her soul. She lifted the hemline of the chemise and began to massage herself, gently and in small circles, like she often did when no one was around.

The feeling was overwhelming, her lower body recoiled at her own electric touch, while she was used to the shame that came along with the sensation, but this was almost too indulgent. She took a deep breath and tried again, making contact directly with her clitoris and she flexed her legs to keep them locked in place. She started rubbing clockwise and her breathing got more and more dramatic. She was already sweating again, she had to stop and collect her focus.

She thought about Sylvain, her first crush as a girl, the first boy to ever touch her in the way she was now touching herself, and his goofy grin as she wiggled under his finger tips. She thought about Theodoric, one of the guards at the banking house who asked for her favour before marching off to war. He was a quiet man, a giant man but with a soft, gentle heart. She had considered taking him to bed, to know what it was like to be wrapped in his strong arms, to feel his great beard against her face but he left before she had the chance, and about Martin, one of her father’s partners whose stern, grey exterior was always softened by her presence, and whom she always suspected,and wished, held secret affections for her, but an affair between the lower status daughter of a banker and the much older, much more distinguished financier would cause quite a scandal.

She couldn’t focus on any one man for long, she thought about how she would handle all three, kneeling at the altar of her beauty ready to serve her.

Her fantasies and her fingers caused her to rise from the bed, pelvis first and cry out till her voice echoed on the walls. When she realised how loud she was, she dropped to the bed. her hand quickly clasping over her mouth in embarrassment.

… But no one came in, no one knocked to see if she needed help because surely that’s what any observer would suspect, that a woman being held against her will would only be crying out for freedom and no other reason.

The distractions were too much. She had to focus and for that, there was only one person she could think of… The blonde haired-silver eyed Lord Marcian Iscariot.

She took a deep breath to start again but then had an idea. A devilish one.

She got up from the bed, and peaked outside her door, there was no one there. When she had been shown to her room, the butler pointed out a fine oak double door at the end of the corridor and told her it was the master bedroom. At this late hour, this is where she assumed she would find Lord Marcian

She walked with confident strides down the centre of the hall, again, her footsteps not making a sound. She came to the door and opened it. He had intruded on her by infecting her, his privacy was not of much consequence. She saw him reading on his bed, above the covers, she suspected vampires don’t sleep. She would ask later.

“Niccola, glad to see you’re doing better.” He said, closing his ancient book. She approached the bed, his look of relief turned to alarm.

“You didn’t tell me about the increased sensations.” she said, not breaking eye contact with him. “Every touch, every colour , every smell is so profoundly sharp, it’s like I’m feeling everything for the first time.”

“Well.. I wasn’t expecting you to be one of the few who actually turn from a bite . I was going to explain everything tom–”
” Shhh. ” she said, crawling on top of the bed swinging her leg over him much to his surprise. “You’re going to show me the extent of how it feels to be one of you tonight.” She said, summoning a boldness that had previously eluded her the last 23 years of her life.

He looked wide eyed, but decided not to object, if this is what she wanted, who was he to refuse?

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/y30qju/the_hearths_of_blairmoor_pt_2_fm_passionate_solo