Viola Grace - Saguinary Seduction, page 15
It’s amazing how mortal’s blush. It’s not unattractive in the right circumstances. It reminds me that mortals are filled with luscious, red blood. I could smell it.
“You don’t mince words, do you, Mr—”
“Damion, and no, I’m not strong on conventions I’m afraid.”
“Are you…European?”
“Greek, actually.”
“Ah.” That intrigued him. He knew something about the ancient Greeks it seemed. An image of a Greek gladiator whipping a naked male slave came to his head.
Nice. I hovered by the fireplace, gave him a slow smile.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?”
“Ask you…ah, what?”
Christopher’s pulse raced now. My gaze focussed on the 132
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vein that was throbbing in his neck, then traveled down to the bulge between his legs in his faded jeans. I could imagine a dark blue vein running down the length of his cock, and suddenly I wanted to taste him. “Don’t you want to know if I like to fuck men?”
He swallowed. “I…well…it’s rather…a…”
I laughed. So sweet, so innocent or so he seemed, although, he imagined himself worldly. “I enjoy candid talk, Christopher.
When you’re ready to tell me what you really came here for, come back.”
He looked startled. He stood up rather awkwardly. “The porch…the—”
“By all means,” I raised my hand. “Fix my porch. Get the supplies and give me the bill. I shall pay you generously for the job.”
“Can we…talk like this…tomorrow night?”
I inclined my head. “I shall have wine. Are you a wine drinker, Christopher?”
“Yes,” he smiled. “I like red.”
“Red is the only kind I drink,” I told him, escorting him to the door. “Tomorrow night.” He met my gaze. I felt his desire in my mouth.
He whispered, “Goodnight,” and was gone.
Marquis De Sade was a master, not only of sadism, but of the human psyche. He was able to dig deep and uncover the depravity of his lover thereby satisfying their actual desires rather than their socially constructed ones. The difference between what one consciously admits to needing sexually and what, at the core they actually want, is the gap between the genuine and the perceived, as it relates to sexual satiation. I had an advantage over the Marquis, I could read thoughts—and moreover, I could sense each physiological reaction, hear the heart racing, the pulse pounding and even watch the tiny hairs standing up on the skin. So, why was I going to make Christopher tell me in detail what he wanted? Because I had many disposable hours…and I intended to postpone the 133
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pleasure for as long as I could.
That evening, I went hunting, making him wait until I returned. I drank enough to content me because when I was famished, I got anxious. I planned to enjoy tonight. He was standing on the doorstep when I arrived. He looked scrumptious, good enough to eat…sorry, couldn’t resist. I wonder what particular creature of the night had invented that expression. I knew Christopher had taken great care with his appearance, although he was acting quite nonchalant about being in his best shirt, which he left open at the neck, and extra tight designer jeans, all of which he would be without soon enough.
I couldn’t wait to get him naked. I listened patiently as he discussed modern politics, refilled his glass several times with the red elixir, and observed the effect that liquor was having on his conversation. Delightful. He began to slouch on the sofa, his thighs hanging open now, his smiles becoming more dangerous and the look in his eyes shining with raw lust.
“That said,” I interjected from where I sat in a huge chair close by, “now it’s time for you to tell me what you came here for.” He glanced at me through hooded eyes and licked his lips. I felt the tips of my sharp incisors elongate inside my mouth. I imagined them slicing into the flesh of his throat. He wiggled a little in his chair, trying to discretely adjust his cock, which now felt unfairly confined.
“The moment I saw you, I knew you could give me what I wanted.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“I’m tired of vanilla sex. I’m tired of tender, romantic hogwash. I want a man, a man who can dominate me sexually, one who can…” He stopped, as if suddenly he had heard his own voice and was shocked by it.
I stood up. “Are you sure?”
He stood up as well and cleared his throat. “Yes. I’ve tried the dungeons. I’ve tried the most brutal masters. It’s child’s play to me.” He moved closer, then lifted up his hand to slowly stroke my face. “You’re beautiful.”
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“Yes, but beauty sometimes carries with it a cost, a terrible cost. What makes you think I can do better than all those masters you speak about?”
“There’s something about you,” He breathed, searching my eyes. “You’re not like other men.” Christopher had good senses.
“Come with me, Christopher. Everything you want is waiting for you below.” He let out what sounded like a little whimper and I smiled.
I led Christopher down into the basement, a basement I had prepared especially for him. It was dimly lit, but I, of course, could see everything clearly. I stood aside, allowed him to explore the environment a little and gave him his last few minutes of liberty. When he turned around, I was ready to do what I’d been waiting to do from the moment I saw him. I circled him, like a wolf hunting his prey, then reached around from the back and began to slowly unbutton his shirt. He leaned against me, already surrendering.
When his shirt was open, I let my hands explore his chest, pausing at one nipple, then the other. With both hands, I worked his nipples, pinching and tugging until he ground his hips back against my groin. I moved his hair aside and lowered my mouth to his throat. I ran my tongue along the flesh, continuing to work his nipples. His breath was coming fast and hard. I slid my hand down to the zipper on his pants and undid it. I pushed him away. He stumbled forward, turned and looked at me. I could see the marks on his chest where I’d brutalized his nipples, now stiff and throbbing. “Take off your pants and your underwear.”
He hastily did as asked.
“Stand still,” I told him. I wanted to look at him. His body was beautiful, toned like I said, and his ass was a delight. He was quite succulently hung. I held his gaze, allowing my eyes to change gradually from black to red. A surge of fear suddenly shuddered through him. I smiled. “Go to the box over there and take out the items.” I watched him walk naked across the 135
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room. I swallowed my desire. I could taste his blood in my mouth, feel my cock compressed in his anal passage, throbbing, thrusting.
He laid the items on the table.
“Pinch your left nipple, play with it, tug on it, then when I tell you to, clamp it tight.” He glanced at me. He wasn’t used to doing this to himself. Some leather-clad master always clamped his nipples for him. “At the same time, slap your cock, make it hard. Get used to the pain.”
Christopher began to pull and tug on his nipple, slapping at his cock at the same time.
“Harder,” I insisted.
Tears came to his eyes as he brutalized his own cock, but oh, it was hard, it was standing up, begging for more. He loved it. There was a dazed smile on his face through the tears.
“Now, the other nipple. Flick your finger over it, tease it, make it stand erect like your cock.”
He gave it his complete attention, letting his head go back, tongue darting out over his lips, moaning slightly. His cock was aching now, pulsing.
I could see the beads of come sliding over the head.
“Clamp it now. Tighter.”
He winced. “It hurts. It’s so tight. Um, God, it feels…”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It feels so good, the pain mingling with the pleasure.” Christopher was a wanton whore, and mine, all mine. I planned to use his body, to give him all the sensuous torture he longed for. He was a boy after my own heart.
“Now, the cock ring-butt plug harness,” I said, moving closer.
He took it in his hand. He had no problem wrapping the strap around his penis and balls.
I stepped forward now and tightened it. He gasped. The Butt plug well…he made several attempts in vain. I took some lube out of the box. I slapped his ass hard. “You need some of this.” I roughly pushed him over the table and slapped his delightful ass a second time. “Spread your legs wide.”
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He complied.
I inserted my lubricated middle finger up his ass hole and began to fuck him with it. He whimpered, squirming around, and I fucked him a little harder. Then withdrawing my finger, I pulled the harness through his legs and inserted the plug deep inside of him.
“Oooh, it’s big,” he moaned. He loved it.
I pushed it deeper.
“Ahhh.”
I reached into the box now and took out a ball gag. “Open wide,” I said. I put it in place and tied it behind his head.
Delicious. Then I took out the studded collar with the long silver chain attached. “Turn around,” I told him. I wrapped the collar around his neck and fastened it. I held the chain, reached my hand over to pull on the nipple clamps, then slapped at his bound genitals. I yanked on the chain. He stumbled, but followed me to the contraption I had put together just for him.
“Now, the real fun begins,” I murmured.
His eyes widened a little. There was terror there and his balls tightened noticeably, but the terror fuelled through his balls and his cock, making them throb with need.
“I’ll help you into it,” I said, then lifted him with one hand, like one would a rag doll, ripping his thighs far apart. I wrapped cords around his ankles, then stretched his arms over his head and secured his wrists into place. His back rested on one wide band, his body in fluid motion, every inch of it exposed to me.
I was seriously hard now, and just to let you know, it takes something quite extraordinary to spur a vampire’s erection. It wasn’t only Christopher’s pose, the way his legs were spread, the plug protruding from his stretched anus or the way his cock and balls, swollen and dripping, were scrumptiously bound, although that didn’t hurt. It was his complete submission. He was in a state of intoxicating terror mixed with a heightened sense of extreme sexual tension. I could smell these emotions when I picked up the whip and ran it through my fingers. I could feel them, as if it was me bound and 137
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gagged. I began to undress.
When I was totally naked and was sure Christopher could see my state of undress, I cracked the whip on the floor. His entire body jolted. Come dripped on the floor. I let the whip trail over the nipple clamps, down his belly, across his bound cock. He moaned through the gag. I cracked it again. Between his thighs now, I leaned down and let my tongue lave his balls, his cock head. I reached underneath and moved that butt plug around in a slow dance inside of his ass while leaning over and pulling on one of the nipple clamps with my teeth, hard.
Christopher let out a muffled plea through his ball gag.
I cracked the whip, letting it fall on his bound genitals, once, then twice. I unclamped one nipple and trailed the whip over it, then gently slapped it over the nipple, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough so that it smarted.
Christopher’s body undulated in the swing.
Should I tell you what that was doing to me? I stood back watching him squirm, absorbing his need. I unhooked his ankles. His feet touched the floor, his arms still stretched over his head. I removed the other clamp from his nipple. I let my tongue wash over one, then the other. “Your nipples are so hard,” I told him, “so sensitive, hard nubs…peaks of delight.”
I let my fingers engage in the sensation of manipulating them, playing with them. After all, they were mine to do what I wanted with, and they were performing, standing at attention. I roughly fondled his bound cock and balls, then, undid the strap. His cock was hard and leaking, in desperate need. I snapped the whip, then let it lace over his genitals.
He let his head go back.
I whipped him again, his cock, balls, his nipples, then I moved around back. He was moaning, and even though you, at this moment, may be cringing, believe me, he was enjoying every minute. I pulled out the butt plug and removed the gag.
He moaned, thrusting his hips forward.
I didn’t touch his cock although he was practically begging me to in his mind. I knew his anus was dilated, but before I took care of that, I whipped his fine ass until it was red. I 138
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didn’t draw blood. I didn’t want to waste any of it. My hunger grew. My cock was hungry and so was I. I walked over to the closet and took out an oversized, oiled sex toy that I was sure Christopher was going to enjoy. It was huge, much bigger than the butt plug, and it would fill him like nothing else. I showed it to him just to increase the fear, increase the sexual need and trailed it across his lips.
He let his tongue dart out and he tasted it.
I pulled hard on his nipple and kissed his mouth deeply, biting down on his tongue and tasting his blood. When I backed away, a trail of it ran out of the corner of his mouth. I left it there, a real aphrodisiac to a fiend such as myself.
He screamed, “Fuck me, impale me.”
And that’s what I did. I forced his legs apart, reached under and gazed his balls with my sharp nails, then began to violate his ass with the contraption. His moaning, the way he rocked his hips, the way his mind screamed with joy, well…I lost control. I rammed the plastic cock deeper inside of him then bit down into his shoulder from behind. I let the blood flow, watching as it slid over his shoulder, down his back, over the luscious curves of his firm, white ass, where it dripped onto the plastic toy. I licked the drips, then began to fuck him hard and fast with the incredibly large toy.
My other hand moved around to torment his cock and constantly tease his nipples, pinching them hard between my fingers. When I pulled out the toy, I replaced it with my own cock, taking the restraints off Christopher’s wrists and forcing him onto his hands and knees. Doggie style, isn’t that what you call it? The ultimate position in submission. I yanked his collar back, fucked him harder, then undid it and threw it aside, biting him again, this time deep in the jugular, letting the warm blood float over my teeth and down my throat.
He wanted more. He screamed to me in his mind, to fuck him harder, to use him.
I took him around the waist and plunged my cock deeper into him, as deep as was possible. His entire body trembled violently as he came, then I realised something. As much blood 139
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as I had taken from him, he wasn’t weakened by it. I yanked him back to his feet, secured his wrists again to the cuffs over head. I re-clamped his brutalized nipples and bound his cock and balls again. I liked the way he looked, languishing in that state somewhere between pleasure and pain.
As I stood back, admiring his naked male form, Christopher picked up his head and looked at me. There was something in his eyes, something unfamiliar. He didn’t speak.
“I plan to drain you slowly,” I told him. “I am very impressed by your stamina. It surprises me. Most mortals would be dead now. Did I give you what you wanted?”
“Oh yes,” he said with a smile. “My beautiful vampire. You are everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“And you don’t mind dying for it?” He didn’t answer. He just looked directly at me. I moved closer, tightening the nipple clamps, casually handling his cock. “The plug. Would you like it?”
“That,” he said, glancing at the big plastic toy on the floor.
“Put it back in.” He licked his lips.
I quickly obliged, then I leaned my head to his chest and bit him deep above his left nipple. I watched the blood drip onto it. So sexy. I inclined my head, picked up my clothes and left him for a little while.
Perhaps if I’d been less entranced by him, I might have realised that Christopher was not at all what he seemed. I was much too preoccupied. I’m sure you understand what I mean.
Have you ever been presented with a beautiful naked body, bound and clamped and plugged and just dying…forgive the pun…to be used? Well, if you have, or you’ve ever wanted to be in that situation yourself, you would soon understand the meaning of preoccupation.
As the dawn approached, I decided to visit my friend downstairs before I retired. I guess I was curious to see if he was still alive, and secretly, I hoped so. But when I walked into the room, I saw the handcuffs swinging over head, empty. The sex toys lay scattered around on the floor. Christopher was gone. I smiled, literally. See, I’m not as bad as you think.
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I was to see Christopher again, sooner than I expected. I had just finished hunting one night. I made my way through some desolate woods not more than a few miles from my house, alert for every sound. When I first heard it, I froze. It was the cry of a wolf, deep, plaintive. There were no wolves in these parts that I knew of. A vampire? Vampires could shift shapes. I myself could become a wolf if I tried, although it was damn inconvenient. The cry came again. I followed it. Then I saw it. It was a great silver wolf standing on the edge of the woods. It was so beautiful. It took my breath away. It waited for me. When I got close to it, it started to run. I followed, taking to the air at one point so that I wouldn’t lose it. It headed straight for my house. I knew that this was no ordinary wolf.
When I landed on my yet to be repaired porch, I knew what ever it was, was in my house. I cautiously entered, my fangs bared, prepared for attack. I knew about the werewolves, although we vamps had an understanding with them. One wouldn’t dare come to my lair. I walked into the living room.
