The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Non-equine delight
23:15 Aug 30 2008
Times Read: 1,021

Peering down from the hayloft, I looked down below.

Six stalls both sides; and double doors at each end of straw strewn barn.

Two bare lightbulbs, each dangling from a long flex, provide ample light for me to watch the blonde working on one of those two occupied.

The horse was a brown gelding, a powerful looking beast.

A pony-tail swung, as strong arms brushed at its coat.

She wore a strappy white tee-shirt, that showed much of her tanned broad shoulders and narrow waist, that led to wide hips and a pear-shaped derriere, which looked oh-so good in light-tan jodhpurs.

I watch her using long sweeping motions; and, a fine perspiration glistens on that fine long neck and those fine-looking shoulders.

She’s pleasant to watch and, as time passes, I realize my hunger has grown.

Looking once more at her curves in the tight material, I think of the horse from two nights ago.

It is said by some, we must dine carefully now, to conserve our foodstocks, many of which are polluted by drugs and other thing’s, just as unpleasant; hence the horse-blood, I drink.

Well, as I watched the blonde, I quickly realized, it wouldn’t be a horse’s ass I’d feed on tonight.

And, I couldn’t help but smile a wide smile, as I’d leapt down to surprise her…

Numb
17:03 Aug 24 2008
Times Read: 1,046

Crossing the well cared for, almost manicured lawn, I keep low, intent on keeping my presence secret.

There are clouds in the night sky and they obscure the slit of bright moon high above.

The grass underfoot has a heavy dew underfoot and my socks are soaked quickly.

Another quick sprint and I reach the nearest wall of the large bungalow, breathing heavily with exertion.

Crouching low, I stare through the window.

Over my ragged breath I hear voices inside.

As time passes, they become louder and finally there is silence.

Now is the time to seek egress.

The building, with its expansive grounds suggest more than a modicum of wealth. So maybe, just maybe, I’ll soon be able to pay of my debts.

‘Hope so’.

So, I take out my ‘toolkit’.

Pressing the sucker to the glass, I score round it, looking for any alarms as I do.

‘Nothing’.

So feeling satisfied that I’m safe, I use the suction cup to pull the glass out, so I can slip my hand through the hole I have made.

Now I wait, momentarily nervous that I’ve made some noise.

But silence reigns. I’m still ‘safe’,

I ease my hand through the hole and undo the latch, then open the window.

And, once again I wait, before moving again.

Caution is a good thing, particularly in my game.

‘Seconds’. I count the seconds, and then I climb in to the dark interior.

Abruptly the room is filled with light, followed by the sound of gunshot at close quarters.

And, as I slam against the wall and slide down to the floor into a sitting position, a burning sensation fills my stomach.

‘Numb’. Then, there is no more pain, just the sticky gloop pouring over my fingers.

And, as the darkness fills my vision and mind, I want to smile.

‘Suddenly, that debt’s not so important now.’

An Ordinary Evening part 6
23:53 Aug 22 2008
Times Read: 1,052

A continuing Adult-orientated story, which is based on characters from the short story "An Ordinary Day" written by myself and continued by Lady of Dragonrose.

..

The rest of the story can be found in her journal, in ‘stories.’



An Ordinary Evening part 6





Mistress had driven fast towards her home from the club, fast but carefully. Stapleton was anxious all the way: after all, he hadn’t wanted to be stopped, not when a strip search would reveal someone in his position, was wearing what he was; and certainly not with two half naked women in the car with himself.



Once they had arrived at her home on a hill over looking the city, David had held the door open with his mistress first, then for Mistress Yumi.

Although his heart was hammering through apprehension, he looked calm.

And, for a short while, he continued to do so, until his Mistress attached a leash to the collar he wore round his neck.



Then, just a short while later, both women sat before the TV, watching a DVD a drink in hand, legs outstretched, smiles on their faces.

The images of a slave being dominated by a Dominatrix delighted Yumi, moreso when she realised she was watching a ‘home-movie’, with Celine the lead.



She glanced occasionally toward the other Mistress and Stapleton, whose back she rested her heels on. Celine looked quite serene, as she languidly smoked a cigarette, while he looked in pain. Stapleton’s knee had begun to ache toward the beginning of the film, now they were a source of real pain.

Yet, he was content to endure it, for the pleasure of his Mistress.



And, although she had small feet, her boot heels were sharp, as they pressed into his back, when she adjusted her position, to turn toward Yumi.

She took the Asian’s face in both hands and gently pressed them to her own.

On screen Celine had a male slave over her lap, as she spanked him till his buttocks took on a rosy hue.



Tongue’s meshed and hands caressed warm flesh, as the sound of his yelps of pain filled the room.

Then slowly, Celine drew from the other woman’s embrace and she looked down, to smile as she noticed the indents her heels had left in her slaves back.

She took her boots of his back and looked to Yumi.

“I think he needs a rest,” she said, with a smile: “After all, he has a long night ahead.”



Celine knew how best to care for her slaves and permanent damage to her property was not an option, not if her lifestyle was to continue as she liked.

Yumi drew her legs in toward herself and she snuggled into the other woman’s body, as if she were on the back row of the flicks, with her beau. She felt so content.

‘Just like, a cat that’s enjoyed the cream.’

That thought made her smile; would she get to taste Celine’s cream? She hoped so.



“Go and get into some pretty things Stapleton…” Mistress Celine instructed.

And, Stapleton stood, abashed at being so in thrall, to this woman, in front of another.

He had not been with his Goddess in the presence of another. Now this…

It was more than he’d expected, yet this was just the beginning and he knew it.



He washed, made his face up and dressed hurriedly, anxious to be with his mistress and soon Stapleton knelt before Celine, who glanced toward Yumi, her new-found friend, a light smile playing on her lips.

He was wearing the prettiest of lingerie, all expensive.



Yumi licked her top lip in a slow lascivious manner, as she watched Celine reach forward and grasp each of his nipples, between forefinger and thumb through the camisole he wore.

Wincing at the sweet pain, David’s eyes opened wide, as a raging fireball formed inside his chest. He wanted to pee.



“What have I done for you, slave?” Celine hissed.

Stapleton wanted to yell, as she continued to twist his engorged flesh, digging her nails into his skin. But, he knew what to say.

“You have awakened my needs, Mistress,” he told Celine.



It was true. Since that first meeting when she had piqued his curiosity when she had said what her profession was, Stapleton had been fascinated by her.

Now here he was, pleasing her voracious appetite for pain and pleasure, with his submission.

‘What more could I want?’ he mused, aroused as he was.

The Reassuring Muse
23:39 Aug 20 2008
Times Read: 1,071

It was nearly four in the morning. And, I saw the humour in that. My day had just ended: and, years ago, I’d written down the lyrics of a song that had paraphrased that phrase, which I’d written line by line, when I’d heard it on the radio; during my stay with Her Majesty, after selling some weed.

I pressed start, the shutdown and sat back in my fifties armchair, pulling my robe over my shoulders.

It was too early to go travelling and too late to sleep.

The thing was, I was wired.

And that, is definitely not conducive with sleep.

The screen went blank and I closed my eyes.

I wasn’t tired. Not whatsoever.

I should’ve turned the darned PC after reading the comment, tagged to my story.

‘Rubbish’ is all they’d written.

But, it had rattled me, badstyle.

Reaching below the chair, covered in a Native American patterned wool blanket in green black and red, I found my whiskey.

It was half-full and that was enough for me, right then and there.

So I sat back, with my arms crossed, then crossed my ankles too; and closed my eyes.

‘Rubbish.’ I saw it again and again, in 72 pt and emboldened.

And, it was doing my swede in.

I needed to see Mandy, it was her reflection I needed.

So I saw her and we chatted, awhile.

“I can take criticism, but that wasn’t nice. It was…”

“Opinion is all it was, not criticism.”

“But it felt crappy,” I retorted, intently picking at a white thread I’d noticed on my coal black jeans.

“It wasn’t constructive, it was…” I began.

“You take it too seriously...” My friend cut into my thoughts, with a light smile.

“Aye, I guess,” I muttered with a light sigh, opening my eyes once more.

Then I stood and went to my bed.

“Thanks for listening Mandy,” I said to her, just prior to sleep, my mind a little more settled than it had been a short while earlier.

It is good when someone listens, for a change.

Philharmonic Encounter
15:55 Aug 18 2008
Times Read: 1,091

01:12 PM 18th August 2008



By Reading this, you acknowledge that it’s intended for adults only, like some of my work. To those who enjoy reading these, thank you for your attention. It’s appreciated.



..



Philharmonic Encounter





We came out of the main doors during intermission at exactly the same time, just two amongst a small crowd of smokers.

I had opened my tobacco tin lid as I brought it into my hand.



Then I reached in my pocket with my left hand and pulled out a one-skin roll, which I put to my lips.

I’d noticed him from the side of my eye amongst the crowd, his eyes darting back and forth; he was a slim, blonde with cat-green eyes.



His style was very 80’s, very ‘Midnight Cowboy’ just without the hat.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of B & H, then a cigarette, which he put to his lips.



I caught what he was doing as I put the tin lid back on.

Our eyes met as we both began frantically searching our pockets, for a lighter.

His grin was infectious, as he found his lighter first. Then I’d found mine.



Yet as he flicked the wheel on his and nothing happened. So, I’d tried mine.

It’d fired up and I’d won.



Once more, our eyes met, as he nodded; kind of an acknowledgement sort of thing.

I lit my smoke, then held kept the flame going and extended my reach a little, cupping my hand round it, shielding it.



Passing by the couple nearest to me, he stepped forward.

“Want a light?” I asked.



“Yes please,” he replied, as he leant forward and cupped his hands round mine.

As he lit his cigarette, he looked up and into my eyes, his right forefinger caressing the back of my left hand.



He stood up, his hand still on mine, the cigarette in his left hand, as he inhaled.

“Nice,” he said, exhaling slowly.

“Yes,” I muttered aloud, thinking of how nice it was to have his finger stroke my skin.

“My names Alan,” he said with a grin, as he evidently noticed my discomfort.



Fact was, I was interested.

“And, mines Toby,” I told him quickly.

“What do you think of the play, Toby?” He asked.

What to say? Was he the playwright? A friend of theirs??



The truth.



“I hate it…” I answered, after my deliberation.

“Why?” He queried.

“Too much talking, not enough happening,” I responded.

“Hah!” He exclaimed, “Is that a hint?”



I blushed. Couldn’t help it.



And, I’d really grown accustomed to his touch: I liked it and wanted more.

“Are you on your own?” I asked, hopefully.

“Nah,” he answered, “but, if you wait out here five minutes, I’ll ditch my mates and go somewhere. Less talk, more action. How’s that sound?”



How did it sound? It sounded marvellous.



“I’ll be here,” I assured him, missing him already, as he moved back into The Philarmonic, with the rest of the crowd, so as to be ready for the second half.

As it was, it looked like I might be having a private show of my own.

That sounded scary, but good.



I’d only been with three guy’s before meeting him. Most of my experience was with women, and older women at that. Just sometimes, that need took over.

This was one of those times.

I lit another cigarette and began counting seconds, till finally I heard his voice.



“Hi, I’m glad you waited!” He said with a smile, running down the steps from the theatre to meet me.

“And, I’m glad you ditched your folks…” I said in turn.

He grinned, slipped his left arm round my waist.



“So, where to, loverboy?”

‘Loverboy?’ I began to get hard, thinking of him just saying that to me.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “I don’t know Liverpool. I live over the water on the Wirral.”



“Well, I want to get acquainted better. What about The Adelphi??” He said, with a squeeze to my waist.



The Adelphi?



At one time it had been one of the biggest and most ornate hotels in Liverpool.

In it’s time.

“Sure, anything you want,” I answered, a tad naively.

I say that ‘coz of what he said next.

“Anything?” He asked.



And, I don’t know what made me answer, ‘yes’, but I had.

“Yes, anything.” Funny, for some reason, I meant it.



Well, the walk from the theatre to the hotel took about ten minutes and through the whole walk, I didn’t mind the looks we got as we walked arm in arm.



Soon, hopefully, I’d be doing more than linking arms, with Alan.

As it was, I would.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself.



He had booked a room with a double bed, and then turned to smile at me, as he took the key. And, though I’m sure the desk clerk realised why we were there, all she had done was smile sweetly, saying, ‘Have a nice day.’



I didn’t know about the night, but I sure intended a nice afternoon and possibly the evening, if he could spare the time, I had mused stepping into the lift with Alan.

In the lift he turned to me, then caressed my right cheek with his left hand.



As his fingers traced the length of my lower lip, I trembled,

“Are you alright?” He asked, with concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” I answered, “I .. I ..”

I wanted to say, ‘I want you’, but was scared. This was all happening so fast.

And, as if to prove the point, the lift arrived at our floor.



Once we were in our room Alan took me in his arms and we embraced. He then pressed his lips to mine and we kissed, his tongue in my mouth, left hand behind my head, right hand on my buttock, squeezing.



As we drew apart a moment, he felt my arousal, while I stood immobile my own hands at my sides.

It had been the same each time before, I’d make the play, then once alone, become theirs, to use as they chose.



Evelyn, my last lover said I was meant to be a fucktoy. She’d said that just after dressing me in a French maids outfit, with small white pinny, from Ann Summers.

And, Evelyn had known what she’d been talking about. That night I’d served her and two friends, as they drank wine and teased me; before she had taken me upstairs.



She’d had me kneel over her bed, panties round my thighs, as she’d slid into my well-lubed arsehole, a six-inch dildo, attached to the harness and rubber panties she wore.

The thing was so designed, that as she pumped her hips back and forth, the other end of the dildo rubbed itself against her blood-engorged clit.



Evelyn had so-loved fucking me.



She could last for hours, cumming again and again. At the end, I’d have sore knees and well-dilated sphincter muscles.

That was then; now, I watched Alan unzip my jacket, then allowing it to fall to the floor, he began to undo my shirt buttons.



Looking down, I saw his fingers work deftly; to reveal the lilac I wore beneath the white.

“There’s something I should tell you,” I said softly.

He grinned.



“No kid?” He retorted with a grin, as he ran his hands over my button hard nipples, beneath the lilac slip.



“I’m bi,” I told Alan, as he unfastened my belt buckle, then unclasped my jeans.

“And…” My trousers fell to the floors and around my ankles, allowing the slip to fall to mid-thigh, my arousal tenting outward, through dark tan tights and really pretty, purple panties worn reversed, to hold me in place.



“And…” I began to say more, but his fingers were playing with my nipples again.

I just closed my eyes and sighed.

“…and play with my tits like this…” I gasped softly.



“And, I’ll be good for nothing, but being your fucktoy.”

I knew what I’d said. It was as good as an offer: and, boy, did I hope he’d take me up on it.

Beware, the Monster
23:44 Aug 09 2008
Times Read: 1,138

(Contains scenes of extreme violence – not for children)





As he left the hallway to enter the main room, Bromberg levelled the pistol before him, as if it were an extension of his arm.

The dark red drapes were drawn together, leaving the room in near darkness.

The walls were dark oak panelled, the same wood used in the floor to ceiling bookcases, all full.

Ahead of the doorway where he stood, an open fire, set midst a large hearth place, illuminated Bromberg’s prey.

Bromberg aimed the Walther PPK, with silencer fitted, as he watched the scene before him, with horrified fascination.

A brunette with lustrous brown hair and wearing an outfit in pink and black, that Victoria would have opened up about, that barely contained a body that might have graced Playboy. She was knelt on the vivid red hearthrug, flickering firelight creating shadows that danced over her flesh.

Behind her, a gaunt fellow sat in bat-winged armchair, covered in red leather.

He wore black biker boots and black leather jeans and a white tee-shirt.

His face was almost white, the eyes a pinky-red; cheeks gaunt, his thinning long fair hair tied into a pony-tail, a knuckle-joint’s distance away from his scalp.

Bromberg watched the creature, whom he’d learnt called itself Lassiter.

He saw Lassiter’s companion turn her head to smile at him, quite sweetly.

Then with a blur of motion, there was a cut into the brunette’s upper back; just to the left and then Lassiter was upon her, lips pressed to the wound, as he fed.

Bromberg roiled with self-loathing and the big man’s muscles tightened within the confines of his suit.

‘I should have acted,’ he cursed himself, ‘then I might’ve saved the girl.’

Briefly he thought of that smile, which had seemed to invite the monster onward.

He should’ve acted earlier, he reminded himself. Now, he would.

Safety was off, five ready, one in the chamber. Fire.

“What the…?” Lassiter snapped.

The guns retort in the quiet rooms changed a lover’s gift, into explosive noise; and his words were lost, to the man with the gun.

Lassiter leapt, to shield his partner Marie, as Bromberg ran forward.

The woman was wide-eyed with horror, as she realised what was happening.

She would have screamed, but the bullet had buried its way into her forehead, tearing the back of her head open in a shower of crimson blood and white bone.

Bromberg had used silver cross-headed bullets, designed to fragment. They did.

Lassiter had watched, crestfallen, as his woman’s beautiful face was all that was left, as the killing shot exploded outward.

He fell to his knees and screamed, as Bromberg looked on.

“She would’ve turned anyway, she’d been bitten,” he said dully.



The red mist was fading, Bromberg had to act soon, before he lost that edge.

Bromberg levelled the gun, sighting on Lassiter’s chest.

“Man,” the fellow exclaimed, “tell me why? You got a problem with lifestylers??”

Bromberg held onto the mist, milking his anger for the adrenalin that fuelled his fight.

He tightened his trigger finger, and then pulled hard.

Inside the gun, ratchets clicked and the bullet flew true, to hit its target, bursting outward, inside Lassiter’s chest, its shards ripping him apart.

“Vampire scum,” Bromberg snarled and emptied the rest of the clip, into Lassiter’s inert body.

Finally the stone-faced killer allowed a smile to rest on his face.

Another one of the Undead was destroyed. He felt sated.

An expected visit
14:01 Aug 05 2008
Times Read: 1,157




An adult tale





“You heard me,” I snap, “bend over the sofa.”

I’d already told you that once, minutes after entering your home, at the time I had stated. But, you appear reticent. So, I guide you across the room and encourage you to lean over the back of the sofa, as I want.

I hold you tightly in place, as I lift your skirt up, irritated that you’ve chosen to disappoint me.

“My daughter was home earlier,” you say to the cushions, I’m not listening.

I’m running my hand over you bare flesh, to the cotton panties, I’d not wanted to see.

You don’t make an attempt to escape your fate; you know you owe me this.

Of course, I ease your panties, down to your thighs, before I start.

And, I can’t help but smile to myself, as I begin to rain your flesh, with blow after blow from the flat of my hand, to your full left buttock.

Soon, your chest heaves, as you’re panting, with each successive smack on your skin, turning a vivid red at first, warming you.

Finally I pause, to rest my hand and get my breath back.

“Now, six more and I’ll go unpack my bags,” I mutter.

Raising my hand, I bring it down sharply on your plump bottom, enjoying the sound, it makes; loud in the small, comfortable living-room.

The bearable heat turns to pain and you give a startled yelp.

You had awaited my presence, for days and as I continue to spank you I can’t help but wonder: is that was why you chosen not to wear the gift I’d sent you, because you knew I would punish you?

“Do as you like Sir, do as you will…” you murmur.

And now, you’re talking, without permission. Just, what do you expect??

Last Kill
15:46 Aug 01 2008
Times Read: 1,169






Brown lay belly down on the top of the storey building, looking carefully over the edge. He had been here for over two hours, the sweet wrappers in his right hand pocket evidence of how long he’d been waiting.

He wanted a cigarette, but Brown had learnt from experience, that smoking literally could kill.

He’d witnessed a rival be given away by the dreaded weed, lit and fired up.

There and then, Brown had sworn that would never happen to him, hence the sweets.

He liked Blackcurrant and Liquorice, the ones with the soft centre.

His right thumb on the ball of his left hand, Brown wrapped his fingers over his wrist, so he could touch his middle-finger with his thumb.

He closed his grip and flexed his fingers slowly; then gently rotated the hand, pleased to hear a satisfying click.

“Okay,” Brown muttered, wiping his brow with the back of his right hand.

The rifle had been fitted with a silencer and the bullet was designed to pierce pretty well anything. Ideally he’d be able to take the shot and disappear, as he’d done so many times before. Yet, there was one difference between then and now.

He sighed, recalling the conversation he’d had with his contact.

“Let’s have one more check, Can’t hurt.” And, he couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the irony in the remark.

Brown rolled onto his back; drawing the rifle close to him as he did so and slid the bolt action back, then home again, ensuring a smooth action. Click, Click.

Then he rolled again, holding the weapon close to chest as he did so.

Brown looked over the roof’s edge and peered through the scope, sighting his prey.

Still nothing.

The assignment was one thing, the waiting another.

“This will be the last,” his contact had assured him.

‘Aye,’ he’d thought, ‘that’s what they said last time.’

He blinked, as sweat ran into his eyes, stinging them.

“Damn African heat!” He cursed, with a scowl, wiping his brown with the back of his right hand again.

Then there he was, the mark.

He steadied the rifle, waiting for a clear shot.

There were too many people around though, there was no way.

Then, for a moment, there it was; a break in the crowd and Brown had that line he’d been waiting for, for hours on end. He tightened his finger.

And, at that moment his wrist gave way, as he’d feared it might.

The shot went wild.

Blood splayed outward, with shards of white bone, as the guard to the Premier’s left fell to the ground as if in slow motion.

“Damnation,” he muttered, gathering his equipment together, “I warned them!”

He ran to the stairwell, fast, faster than his knee could take.

Brown fell, clutching his left knee

Suddenly there were black faces all around, the Prime Ministers personal guard.

He looking up, into the killing end of a Kalashnikov: and grinned.

He had been the best, but the Arthritis had made damn sure this was his last job.

A click, as the guard before his removed the safety and the last kill was made.