“I thought vampires were men,” I stammered. “With fangs. Who sucked the blood out of your neck. Like Dracula.”
The beautiful, pale brunette who called herself “The Countess Valencia” smirked. Her face was inches from mine; her eyes were mesmerizing.
Her scent was intoxicating.
Her presence, powerful.
“Blame it on those stupid, male chauvinist Victorians,” she said.
“When a few idiots caught wind of our little society in the nineteenth century,” she explained, “they couldn’t wrap their puritanical minds around the idea that a group of powerful women could derive mystical sustenance by sucking the semen from subservient cocks.
“Or at least, they couldn’t bring themselves to print the truth in their novels. So, they twisted the facts into a tale of undead male monsters sucking blood; disgustingly enough, Bram Stoker and the other perverts of the time were comfortable in spreading the vision of that deplorable depravity.”
I was half-naked and strapped tight to a large and heavy circular wheel attached to a wall in her dungeon, so I was a captive audience for her history lesson.
She had just revealed that she was not really a beguiling business headhunter, but a beautiful, seductive creature of the night who was going to feed on my life’s essence. Not by sucking my blood, but by swallowing my cum.
She stepped back, opened wide, and displayed her decidedly non-pointy teeth.
“And fangs? Not a chance, Calvin. Perfect for piercing an artery, but they’ll ruin the mood when put in proximity to a man’s private parts. Or, ‘wedding tackle’ as they referred to it back in the old times.
“Really, Calvin! ‘Wedding tackle?’ God, they were such prudes in Merry Old England!”
She was taking off her dress, revealing sexy black lingerie, flawless fair skin and incredible curves.
“And I was there, back in the day. I’m over three hundred years old, kid, so I’ve had lots of experience; you will definitely enjoy my upcoming blowjob. And the hundreds after that. I have mastered fellatio techniques that will make you erupt like never before.”
She certainly didn’t look her age; she appeared to be around thirty, perhaps ten years older than me, but she carried herself with the grace and confidence of a much older, experienced woman of the world.
That was an intoxicating blend for a poor young man fresh out of a small Midwestern college, looking to make his way in the world.
She continued, “And that blowjob will make you a slave to me and my sisters. That’s the effect of a vampire’s special kiss. I told you all this back at the hotel bar, you silly boy. You were distracted, but I never actually lied to you, and you agreed to join my organization. That’s part of the game, a prerequisite of tonight’s ritual.”
She chuckled at my look of bewilderment. “Calvin, I told you I was a countess descended from a very old Romanian family from Transfellatia. I told you that I am a headhunter for an organization that enlists virile young men like yourself for a unique, life-changing opportunity.
And I am that. And you are that. And this most assuredly is that.”
Well, yes, she had told me all that over drinks, back at the hotel. But what started as an unusual, confidential job interview rapidly became a seduction; she started describing her incredible blowjobs and how they “energized” her.
We then drank her premium liquor and made out in the back of her limousine while her beguiling redheaded chauffeur named Aurora drove us to her mansion in the hills.
And yes, during the trip, Valencia actually did confide that she was a creature of the night who was going to tie me down, suck me off and make me her slave. But of course, it was in a flirting, seductive, not-at-all-serious way that I took to be a private joke, a role-play fantasy, seeing as how her ancestors were from the legendary land of vampires in Eastern Europe.
In the car, when I laughingly asked if she was, more correctly speaking, a “vampiress,” she scoffed and told me that was an awkward term. “Vampire” was the more elegant and gender-neutral word, she assured me.
Her ornate mansion in the hills overlooking the city resembled a European castle, minus the moat and battlements. Once inside, I discovered her staff consisted of three stunning, athletic women in vinyl fetish wear. Not gender-neutral at all.
The moment I walked in the door, the trio jumped me—they were frighteningly strong—and expertly stripped me, bound me and dragged me down a flight of stairs.
(Actually, the lady guards had let me retain my boxer-briefs. For a brief, bizarre moment, in a flashback to something my mother had once said in regards to highway accidents, I was glad my underwear was clean and untattered. Except that, instead of a hospital emergency room, I was being led into a subterranean dungeon.)
A chill ran down my spine as I entered that chamber. It was an hommage to medieval torture chambers: lined with stone, lit with torches, ringed with curtained alcoves where I could hear rustling and dim moans.
After strapping me onto the vertically-mounted torture wheel, the others left the room. The Countess Valencia was now explaining what was going to happen.
“All of the women here are vampires like myself; my sisters. After tonight’s ritual, you’ll be our slave. Oh, you’ll leave here in a few days, Calvin; you’ll start a career, you’ll be very successful. You will network with our other male slaves, many of whom are powerful men in business and government and they will guide you. But you’ll form no other intimate bonds, never date or marry.
“You’ll give us a third of your income and return here periodically, in rotation with the other vassals, to guard me and my sisters. We do sleep during the day and need protection; that part of the legend is true.
“At night, we’ll suck the life-juice from your cocks for the vitality it gives us, and to reinforce your subservience. We do eat and drink normal food for basic sustenance, but semen gives us extended life and power.”
Throughout her explanation, the countess had been fondling my cock to firmness while I was firmly strapped to what she laughingly referred to as the “Wheel of Misfortune.”
At this point, the voluptuous Aurora, now in a tiny, tight rubber fetish outfit, brought a line of four naked men into the dungeon, all in a set of bizarre shackles. She was leading the first by a chain connected to the front of a substantial metal band that gripped him tightly between his testicles and the base of his cock. The three poor bastards that followed wore similar, heavy ball-stretchers.
Each ring was connected by a three-foot chain to the scrotum device on the man shuffling behind him. One of the female guards brought up the rear with a leash connected to the balls of the last in line. Thus, this ‘chain-gang’ had to shuffle in tandem or endure painful tugging on their private parts.
With wicked smiles, Aurora and the guard made sure to stop and start the group every few seconds, pulling on the leashes to produce just that effect. The men moaned and grunted but were otherwise silent in their pain and humiliation.
Aurora paraded the line of men directly in front of me. As they passed, I could see that the wrists of each slave were secured behind his back with leather cuffs. Short straps from each cuff led downward and were connected to what appeared to be a massive butt-plug inserted into the man’s anus. These contributed to the men’s anguish and their cautious, bow-legged gait.
Each man, despite the cruel bondage, was sporting an erection of impressive size.
The other two female guards now joined us in the dungeon. Each unclipped a man from the fellow captive in front of him. They pulled him by that chain to one of the padded chairs set in a semi-circle that focused on where the Countess and I stood.
The metal leashes were then fed through iron rings set in the floor in front of the chairs so that the women could pull on them and force the men to their knees.
Soon, Aurora and the guards all had a man kneeling between her spread-apart legs, his hands still bound behind him and his face in her crotch. The women laughed as they gave an occasional yank on the chain to maliciously tug on their victim’s balls.
Valencia activated a mechanism that rotated the wheel I was on 180 degrees and raised it a few feet in the air. I was now upside down, with my face directly in her crotch, and hers in mine.
With powerful hands she ripped my undershorts apart, removing my last line of defense, my last shred of modesty.
The stunning brunette teasingly blew on my cock and gave it a few soft, swirling licks. She spent a long time using her fingers and tongue to examine and stimulate my stiffening manhood, my tight balls, and my vulnerable anus.
The scent from her pelvis was foreign but curiously arousing; even though I was bound and helpless and scared, my lust was building. I was not a virgin, but had certainly never experienced anything like this before.
“What a lovely cock you have, Calvin,” she cooed. Then she suddenly ripped her panties apart, directly in front of my face.
“Almost as nice as mine,” she taunted.
I gasped at her male genitalia, half-erect and swelling.
Yikes.
I’m not an expert on men’s cocks—I had had no experience with homosexuality—but even upside down, it appeared to be absolutely real, circumcised, and about the same size as mine. The pubic area was well-trimmed.
The Countess had obviously tucked that package away quite well during our dinner and drive; I now recalled that she had diverted my hand away from this area during our heavy petting session in the limousine.
She stepped aside long enough for me to now see that the kneeling men across from me were bobbing their heads. Lord help me, they were all sucking vampire cocks, not licking vampiress pussies.
“One thing about the ancient legends is true,” she said, kneeling before me and stroking my cheek as if to comfort me. “Vampires are men. But let’s be sensible, Calvin. In order to seduce thousands of men over the years so we could suck their cocks, we had to develop more… alluring features from the waist up.”
A wicked, crafty visage spread across her achingly lovely, womanly face.
“Oh, Calvin, I know that a couple of minutes ago you were thinking, ‘Well, maybe a life spent in slavery won’t be so bad, as long as I get a great career and receive marvelous blowjobs from gorgeous women each night?’
“Well, kiddo, it’s not a free ride; you’re going to have to suck me off, too. I like to get my meal and my pleasure at the same time. As a matter of fact, you’ll service all of us before dawn, with your cock and hands and mouth. Some of us will also take you in your asshole, just for fun; I know Aurora will. ”
She stood up and rubbed her cock, slick with pre-cum, over my face and pushed it against my lips. She felt my resistance; I struggled in my bonds and did not open my mouth. Her voice became a snarl.
“And don’t even think about trying to hold back your ejaculation up here or not sucking my dick down there. I’ve had three centuries to learn how to milk the juice from a man’s cock and balls; I’ve also spent decades learning how to torture them.”
I felt her run a fingernail across a section of my testicles and then she wriggled it a certain way.
Suddenly, excruciating flames of agony shot across my body and then mercifully ceased after a few seconds. In the interlude, I had cried out in pain, and she took that opportunity to ram her cock into my mouth.
She soon pulled it out, but her pre-cum remained on my tongue. It’s flavor was intoxicating, like nothing I’d ever tasted.
(I don’t know what “nectar,” the magical drink of the ancient Greek gods was like, but I think her pre-ejaculate fluids must have been as heavenly as that beverage.)
“So, Calvin,” she continued, “you will give me the absolute best blowjob you can, regardless of your experience, or inexperience, in the matter. Don’t disappoint me, boy. Let me show you what happens when we are displeased.”
She stepped aside and rotated the wheel so that I was right-side up again, now several feet in the air, with a clear overview of the room. The curtains to the alcoves had been pulled aside.
In one, I could now make out that a man was strapped on his back to a stout table, his shins tied to his widespread thighs at one edge, his head hanging over the other end. A vampire-woman was fucking his throat and pinching his nipples on one side of the table; another was pegging his asshole and stroking the man’s hard cock on the other.
In other recesses, I could see several men being used by the vampire-women. One was suspended horizontally by shibari-type rope bondage from the ceiling. Another was hanging on a crucifix—thankfully attached not by nails, but by rope. One man was standing and bent over, his head and hands locked into in a set of medieval-style stocks.
All were sucking vampire cock and/or being sucked off by beautiful vampires.
In front of me, the four chain-gang men had left their positions between the vampires’ thighs and were being sucked off by their seated mistresses. All were still restrained and their faces were wet with a mix of their own saliva and vampire semen.
Obviously, they had quickly done their very best to drain the ladies’ balls and were being drained in turn.
“The men down here not need to be kept in bondage,” the countess explained. “They are mesmerized, willing slaves, thanks to our magical blowjobs.
“But for special nights like this, for the initiation of a new member like yourself, we enjoy spicing things up. We take this opportunity to torture and torment the ones that do not contribute enough to our cause, in terms of money or semen, and these rituals reinforce their subservience.”
The Countess laughed. “Besides, we vampires have all lived a long time. We get bored. We get our jollies where we can.”
Two other men had joined the festivities, performing as collared, naked waiters with trays of drinks and appetizers, plus lube and towels and such for the ladies. The tip for their services? A few strokes or kisses on their oily, firm cocks by the women, a reminder of the multiple milkings sure to come throughout the night.
I looked around again; every man jack in this room who had not just ejaculated had a large erection. The Countess noticed that I noticed.
“You’ll find, Calvin, that ingesting vampire seed periodically will increase your vigor and grow your genitalia in the coming years. You will produce impressive amounts of spunk for us to harvest each time we milk you.”
She activated the Wheel of Misfortune’s controls, and I was once again rotated down into a position where my crotch and Valencia’s crotch were in each other’s faces.
“Are you ready to begin, Calvin?” the Countess asked. “Remember, you agreed to all of this.”
She had been stroking her cock to what I hoped was nearly its full size. Her member curved upward from her groin, which meant that, from my inverted perspective, it curved downward, thus making it perfect for sliding down my throat.
I stretched my mouth wide, resolved to do my whorish best to take this vampire cock down my gullet as best I could.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. It was time to start my new life.