This was originally an opener prompt for a fantastic erotic roleplay, situated in Victorian time London, based on the premise that vampires can among other things experience sex only through their victims. Everybody is 18+.
I got there late, long past sundown, as I usually do. I try to avoid the introductory phase. Humans seem to require time, time to shed their façade, the carefully crafted veneer they maintain in public. They spend a lifetime to create it up out of tradition, an elaborate set of etiquette rules and then an obsessive need to employ discipline in order to live their life according to said rules.
At least to the public.
What happens behind closed doors, behind windows covered with thick curtains, is often something totally different.
But it usually takes them some time to extradite themselves from their self-imposed corset. Just like it takes time to peel oneself out of an elaborate dress, even the most exuberant and wild will require a period of transition, from disciplined to uninhibited, from respectable member of society to someone who has accepted and is eager to live out their wildest desires.
I don’t blame them. They don’t have the centuries of experience in hiding who they are like I do. But at the same time it can be tiresome seeing them struggle to remove their inhibitions. Some try alcohol to speed up the process, or to forget who they have to be when the sun rises again. I prefer other more potent ways.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been at one of the parties. Even in a city as large as London, the number of people participating is small and I get bored easily.
But more importantly I like to keep my exclusiveness. I don’t come when they call. As if the silk dress I am wearing wouldn’t give it away, I’m not one of their hired whores, even their most exclusive.
At these parties you won’t discover any cheap ones, a commodity available in abundance in the streets of London, where the lower class play the same game just like the nobility. At night, in the darkness, the façade comes down; they will carouse and binge, and follow their carnal desires.
Walking through the rooms where scanning and gauging has already turned to excess, people touching and tasting each other, fucking in twos, threes, or other more elaborate arrangements, I feel nothing. No excitement, no stimulation, no arousal. It is as if I am looking in from far away without being part of what is going on.
Some of the men and women wear masks, thin painted wood, soft leather or cloth with elaborate lace. Still, I know the people who attend the secret orgies of London’s high society. I have seen them many times, watched them, held them in my arms, heard their moans and indeed have fed off a lot of them.
I don’t bother with a mask.
It is something people do so they can lie; lie to the others, that they were not really here, that they are indeed respectable when the sun comes back up. But they also lie to themselves that it is not really them who is doing these things. Just like the drunkard makes excuses that what he does was not really him, but the alcohol. While it actually is them, but with all the inhibitions and limitations removed.
And it is a very ineffective lie anyway, especially for people who attend these parties regularly.
Heads turn towards me, eyes follow my movement as I pass from the entrance hall in my long deep red dress, my black hair open, deeper into the large mansion on the outskirts of London, walking from room to room, looking for…
…well, something to strike my fancy.
There, in a corner next to a divan, a young woman, almost naked except for white small clothes, her breasts bare, is kneeling in front of a man whose face is hidden behind a shiny red and blue lacquered wooden mask. She herself wears a simple one made from black cloth. Her blonde hair is made into a high pony but still falls to her shoulders.
Hesitant and inexperienced are her movements as she is pleasuring the man orally. His breeches unfastened and around his feet, he still wears a white shirt and a dark coat. Looking around the room it is obvious he’s not really into her, he is just using her. Maybe nobody else wanted her, maybe nobody else wanted him. It clearly is her first time, she isn’t doing a particularly well job and she knows it. She is nervous and as I see him wince and suddenly pull the young girl’s blonde ponytail to disengage her mouth from his cock, I just know that he must have felt her teeth.
It’s been some time since I have tasted nervousness.
The man immediately notices me as I walk over. He is tall with dark hair and a stubble of a beard. He can’t be older than 35. I can see him smiling now as he clearly thinks I’m here for him.
My face remains expressionless as I take the young woman’s hand from his cock and draw her to her feet. Her face shows surprise and her eyes move between me and him, confused. She also thinks I’m here for him and that she has maybe served her purpose in getting him hard. But as he gets up and takes a step towards me I raise my hand and shake my head . Instead I guide her to the divan, where he was sitting just a moment ago. My hand on her shoulder I push her down to sit at the edge of the ornate cushions and then push her back to lean against the high backrest.
Lowering myself and kneeling in front of her, I look up at the man who’s face has become a mixture of confusion and interest, his eyes following my hands as I pull the young woman’s smallclothes down her legs until she is completely naked. Gently spreading her legs, I start with kisses along her thighs. If I move too fast, it will make her uncomfortable and sour the taste. I want her arousal and not her fear.
Having seen the man with his considerable erection or the woman, naked and exposed, has stirred nothing inside me. Others might blush, their heartbeat quicken, their blood pumping: but for me nothing.
I can hear the moans from behind me and every now and then screams of pleasure from the other rooms: but for me nothing.
I could have sex with any or all of them, have them kiss, rub, penetrate my body and would still feel nothing.
Right now, even though everyone can see my face, I am the one with the mask, feigning arousal and interest and empathy for the woman in front of me. The only thing I care about is the sensation she might give me. No, not her, her blood. Nothing she could do would change me, would be of use to me. She is merely an instrument I play, in order to hear a certain melody, to make me feel something, something I haven’t felt for a long time.
Caressing her thighs, I try to make her relax as my lips approach her sex. I hear her sighing and then gasping as my tongue begins to spread her lips. She’s not even wet yet. Too soon.
It is probably her first time at an event like this, maybe it is even her first occasion with a woman. She still feels tense and anything but relaxed. I listen closely to her breathing, trying to get a feel for what she enjoys, the tip of my tongue closing in on her sensitive part. Her clitoris is still hooded. Too soon.
Suddenly she jerks and tenses. I open my eyes and see the man has moved next to her and is holding her head as he is feeding her his cock, rocking his hips, all the while looking down on me.
What might have been exciting at some later stage is just too much for the young woman. I feel anger, no annoyance welling up inside me, as this one is threatening to undo what I am trying to achieve. I should just tell him to leave, should have told him right away. Never get in between me and my prey.
But there might be another way, maybe even something better.
“You,” I call out to the man who’s eyes are fixed on my lips devouring the girl’s sex.
“Why don’t you mount me instead?” I offer and change my position from lounging between her legs to getting on my knees, arching my back and raising my ass to make it more inviting for him. He doesn’t even answer but immediately lets go of the young woman and moves behind me. Urgently he pulls my dress up around my waist and lays my ass bare as I did forgo wearing small clothes.
“I want you to fuck me with her spit on your cock.” I tell him over my shoulder.
“And you,” I turn back to the woman who is watching wide-eyed at what is transpiring, “don’t close your eyes. I want you to watch, watch his face as he enters me!”
I can feel his hands on my ass, one hand opening my cheeks. Then I hear him spitting and feel his fingers smearing it over my pussylips. One finger enters me. He must have noticed that I am dry as parchment. I hear some more spitting and then after a moment I detect his cock at my entrance.
I don’t feel anything as he pushes inside of me. Still, I feign pleasure and a moan for my audience but at the same time I watch her as she looks spellbound to what is happening behind me.
While he is beginning a slow rhythm I renew my efforts on pleasuring her, this time without interruptions. But hopefully my display will speed things up for her. Indeed I notice she is placing her hands on her breasts, well developed and soft, and begins kneading them.
It doesn’t take long, and I can feel her wetness on my tongue. Finally! Her breathing quickens. At the same time, I feel an increased eagerness of my partner behind me, pushing into me with more vigor and speed.
“Don’t climax inside me, pace yourself, my dear, I want to swallow your seed!” I tell him quickly and he indeed slows a little.
The girl however is now really enjoying herself. Her juices are flowing, her clit is swollen and its hood has retreated. Now is the moment I have been waiting for.
It all happens quickly and at once. My mouth moves to the inside of her thigh, and at the same time I insert two fingers between her lips. Concealed in the sudden change which makes her gasp, I bite down, and my fangs prick her creamy white skin. Blood is flowing from the two punctures, just a small trickle and I drink it up, sucking on her skin.
I know how it feels. The sudden sting and the cooling sensation introduced by the faint amount of venom negating the blood’s coagulation.
Even though it is only a small amount her blood is a rush to me. I taste her essence, the porridge she had for dinner, the apple she had for dessert and more promptly the wine she has had here, a fine red, sweet and fruity. But these are only faint fragrances now overwhelmed by her sexual stimulation, born out of, yes indeed, nervous excitement.
I not only taste but feel her arousal, the heat of her loins, her intense excitement and it becomes my very own. I feel her lust for the cock, which is thrusting inside me right now, but also her exhilaration at me eating her out and fingering her. I experience it all, her thirst for sex and also her wonder at discovering how overwhelming the situation is.
I have to keep myself from drinking more. Instead, I focus on myself. I can clearly feel the heat between my legs now and myself getting wet. I may not receive pleasure from the cock moving in and out of me, but I feel the yearning for it and for the sweet release only a climax can bring, her climax.
I experience all her desires and it is wonderful. “Yes, fuck me! Fuck me deeper.” I call out over my shoulder looking back at the man who has taken off his shirt by now. I can see some sweat glistening on his shoulders. “But don’t come yet!” I reiterate. “I want to taste you too!”
Because men and women taste differently and their arousal and their orgasms taste and feel differently. Arranging climaxes of my sexual partners is like arranging a meal with several courses. The simplest requires an entrée, a main course and dessert. The entrée is also meant to further the appetite, and mine has now been awakened.
I am hungry for the main course and I turn my attention back towards the young woman. She has a peculiar birthmark, where her cheek and thigh meet and I can see it now, as she freely lifts her legs in order to give me better access. My fingers still inside her moving gently, I start drawing circles with my tongue around her exposed clit, careful not to touch it too directly.
It doesn’t take long, and I can feel her getting close. Just a little bit more. My fingers move faster and I begin sucking at her clit. Her insides start to tighten around my fingers and quickly I again prick the insides of her thighs, drinking greedily just in time as she reaches climax.
She arches her back and her legs quiver as she moans. And through her and her blood I also achieve orgasm. It is such an indescribable rush. In a world where everything tastes like ash and where even a cock pumping inside me does nothing to even induce the slightest response, reaching this crest is a profound experience.
My body also reacts, a flush of heat washes over my otherwise cooler than average skin, my eyes widen and I groan with my mouth open as my insides tighten around the shaft buried inside me, gripping it with an unearthly vigor.
I hear the man behind me groaning as well, and his hand is clawing at my ass as he withdraws from my cunt. The sensation of emptiness reminds me of what I had planned to do.
And quickly I turn around and my mouth finds his cock, slick with spit and my juices. I can feel him throbbing and how close he is. Instead of grabbing the base and jerking him to completion I decide to push down hard, forcing his cock down my throat, till my nose is buried against his stomach.
I can feel his hand on the back of my head, and myself grab his cheeks with my hand, holding myself tightly, not wanting to take any chance of losing my dessert.
With no time to waste, I sink my fangs into the base of his cock and drink.
The muscles of my throat move as I swallow, they massage the firm meat stuck inside, and it quickly sends him over the edge. I can feel him erupting shooting his semen down into my stomach. Male orgasms are more sudden, more eruptive than women’s.
And upon drinking his blood while he releases into me with every throb, I experience another orgasm rushing through my veins while my first has not yet fully subsided. It is the most glorious and euphoric feeling and I have often thought if mere mortals can even achieve a comparable state.
But with men, as quickly as it comes, it is gone again. My other senses return: I hear him panting above me and her sighing and still breathing heavy behind me.
Slowly I withdraw and release the softening but still grown cock from between my lips. A taste of roasted meat, wine and tobacco as well as sea salt lingers in my mouth.
Standing up I notice a few onlookers who have watched our activities. I compose myself and straighten my dress. Turning to the young woman, I bow slightly down to her and cup her cheek in my hand before whispering to her ear: “You taste wonderful! Enjoy the night, darling.”
And with that I leave the two as well as the audience we have accumulated. It doesn’t pay to linger. I do not enjoy the moments after, when women and men become way too affectionate or want to talk.
I want to enjoy the quickly subsiding impressions by myself without distraction.
It was after all an ecstatic begin into the night, and I kept thinking that I detected a little bit of joy having decided to visit this party. A feeling highly uncommon but ever so more delightful.
Before the night came to an end, I had the chance to perform with several of the guests and the playthings which had been arranged for entertainment. I fed on several others, mostly men. And to whichever room I went, people’s eyes would follow and a few of the more daring ones would proposition me to join them.
High society, each and every one of them; nobility, businessmen and bankers, officers of the military and navy, like the one young man I had tasted, lawyers and so on.
There were indeed a few people I had not seen before, some I knew, some I didn’t. Thus, I decided to accept, when Sir Roberts invited me to the next installment, when he would host this exclusive circle at his palais. He deeply regretted that we had not met in one of the rooms, but he profusely hoped I would deign to join him next time. Somewhere in his late fifties, Sir Roberts was a charming and eloquent man, who as far as I’ve heard had a large collection of books, not only literature but also on topics regarding the natural sciences.
I graciously accepted the invitation, and told him to think of me every day at least thrice, until the day of the party.
It never hurts to charm or rile up a potential victim. The mind is a powerful thing and since “anticipation is half the pleasure”, as the saying goes, it will make them reach their orgasms not only faster, but it will also let them be more intense.