Late October, 1437, Apuseni foothills
I trudged wearily up the hillside, my latest captive slung over my shoulder. Though the young lass weighed no more than two full sacks of grain, it was a struggle to carry her limp body up the steep slope, especially as the weather had started to turn. The rain had been no more than a drizzle, but had persisted throughout the day, slickening the ground beneath my heavy boots. Wind gusts swept in from the North and chilled the landscape, dislodging most of the few leaves that remained on the scraggly trees. Lightning flashed nearby, complimented by loud peals of thunder.
Ah, Fall in the foothills of the Apuseni. Just as I liked it.
My two hounds forged ahead, howling and yelping, trained to keep the proper distance as they hunted and kept watchful eyes, ears, and snouts alert for predators or trespassers. I followed them up the hill toward the towers of my estate's castle, of which I caught glimpses in the light of the full moon that periodically was allowed a peek out from behind the dark, racing clouds. Nightfall had come as I was returning from the bank of the Someșul Mic River below, bringing with it an awareness of my need of sustenance, as my energy was being drained with each passing minute.
Thus, my captive. With no small amount of luck, I found the unfortunate female trespassing on the outer grounds of my estate, apparently gathering fruit from my orchard. Unfortunate for her. Fortunate for me. Though she had fallen unconscious – no doubt scared to fainting as she saw my powerful form approaching – her lifeblood was still in her. I could smell it through her thin skin. And soon I would suck it from her veins, providing me the nourishment I needed, and now craved. Such was the plight of many a frail mortal female when she happened to encounter a vampire with four-fold her strength on the night of a full moon.
Once inside, my captive squirmed and emitted high-pitched sounds while I climbed the cold stone steps to my upper chamber. I snickered, relishing the challenge, albeit a minor one, of sinking my teeth into the flesh of someone screaming and flailing in resistance. Kicking the door open, I flopped my little captive onto the bed. I called it a bed, though it was not for sleeping, of course, but for reclining while I was reading history or studying music or astronomy, or sometimes writing memoirs or correspondence when I didn't want to be at my desk in the study.
My eyes were on the female as she sputtered and pushed her straw-colored hair from her face, clutching the sack where she no doubt had stashed her stolen plunder. I grabbed the torch from beside the door and set alight several candles, as my chamber had only one narrow, deep-set window that let in almost no moonlight. If mortal girls were afraid of the dark, I'd been told, they were unsettled perhaps more by firelight. Plus, I needed to see those veins.
This girl was evidently slow to her senses after having woken. I was actually a bit relieved there would be no struggle, as I was feeling weaker by the minute and didn't care to be annoyed by any resistance. I stepped up between her legs that were conveniently parted, and lowered my face to her neck that was conveniently uncovered, as she had just let her outer coat drop, clad now only in a thin dress.
I squeezed around my helpless captive's middle, holding her tightly, as I opened my mouth wide and sank my fangs into her flesh, right at the joining of her shoulder and neck. Her body heat warmed my mouth as I held my bite, but I failed to sense any flow of liquid immediately. I felt her squirm and heard her let out a high-pitched chatter, then released, adjusted, and bit again.
“Oooo,” the female shuddered and squealed. But it was more like a squeal of excitement rather than pain. “That tickles!”
I pushed her away and looked at her face. She should be screaming and trying to break free, not smiling and clenching. I was shocked to see a wide reddish mark and small indentions on her neck, but no blood running.
Fuck. My fangs hadn't broken her skin. Was I too weakened?
Not only was she speaking of a tickle, she was smiling as well. I was livid. No little village maiden was going to thwart my attack, or get away with mockery, if that's what she was doing. I struck again, lowering my fangs to her neck once more, intent on piercing her and drawing blood. All of it.
But she wrenched her head sideways, and my teeth again slipped, raking along her skin instead of puncturing it.
“Ooo, naughty!” she squealed. “Behave yourself!” I sensed she was the aggressor now, as she wrapped her legs around me, as one might see a warrior hold another in close combat.
Again, I looked at the marks on her neck. I was dumbfounded, confused, a little embarrassed and a lot angry. I felt the tips of my fangs with my fingertips. Damn it – they had gone dull, and it seemed that they were being rendered useless for drawing blood as intended.
Shocked, I blurted out, in a way that sounded like a mumble, “I have never … this has never happened before.”
The female laughed. “I find that hard to believe!” She used her mouth to press on my face and neck, but as if to make it wet, not to bite. “I'll bet you've had your way with plenty of ladies up here in your lovely mansion!”
'Having my way' would have been draining her lifeblood, but she seemed to be entertained, not terrified. Humiliated, I didn't know what to do. My fangs weren't responding properly. I didn't know if my lack of strength somehow made the points retreat, or if something else was wrong.
A human woman would loosen her dress to expose a breast for a child to nurse, but I was sure she had no child in her sack, so I had no idea why this one acted as she did. Certainly old enough to be of child-bearing age, this one nevertheless had breasts that were small and soft and obviously not full of milk – I say 'breasts', plural, because the top of her dress came off to show both of them together, as if she were preparing to bathe perhaps.
Gazing upon her, nude from the waist up now, I assumed she had cast a spell on me or something. I found myself without my shirt after a moment, with her arms around me again, her hot flesh almost burning into me as she sat up and pressed her mouth to me some more.
“Oh, you're cold,” she said.
“No, you're hot,” I replied. We shared the same language, but our words seemed not to mean the same thing, because this statement of annoyance at her searing body temperature was met by her humming and thanking me.
Another failed attempt to bite her produced only pleasant-sounding giggles from her. I was so shocked, I just knelt there, not bothering to attack her again. Would she escape, leaving me to have to drag myself downstairs to find an alternate supply of blood to nourish me?
She was not trying to escape, but to subdue me in some manner. Intrigued now, I succumbed to her shoving against me, allowing her to push me over onto my back. Maybe she thought our arrival in my chamber was a desire on my part to retire for the night, as she pulled at my boots, beginning to remove them.
No sooner were my boots off than she pulled at my pants, removing them completely, laughing as she threw them aside.
“Ooo, aren't you handsome,” she cooed, running her hot hands up my thighs. The warmth, I suppose, caused something in my body to react, evidently resulting in the lengthening and expansion of my penis.
She pushed her dress the rest of the way off, standing in front of me, smiling. Her shoes were off now, too, so all of her bare skin was showing, as well as the hair between her thighs. As she climbed on top of me, I had one last hope of her providing me a patch of thin skin to breach, from which to suck her blood.
“Oh, you are so hot,” I told her, feeling her flesh almost burning me, including the damp bit between her legs that she was rubbing on my penis, making it even fuller and stiffer.
“Mmm, thank you. I'm glad to make your acquaintance!” She squirmed, rubbing her steaming crotch on me, engorging my penis even further. “You're such a gentleman... carrying me up the stairs. Lighting romantic candles.”
Gentleman? You're supposed to be terrified, you little wench! What's wrong with you?
She guided the tip of my penis into the space between her legs, and sat down fully on top of me, completely engulfing my shaft up inside of her. Smiling, she wiggled her hips slowly, doing to me as the mortals do between themselves to have sexual intercourse. I was confused. Mortified in a way, but inquisitive. I had captured her a short while ago, intent on her being the meal that renewed my strength and vigor; not only did I fail, but she was enjoying, rather than fearful of, her predicament.
“If you are trying to conceive,” I began, “well, that won't – “
“Oh, no,” she giggled. “This week is not my fertile time. I wouldn't want to have to marry you.” She grunted, placing her hands on my chest, bouncing now.
I cannot impregnate a mortal, I thought, but kept that to myself.
“Well, maybe, if it's like this. Uuhh! But at least not yet.”
As she kept shoving her hips down on me, I was forgetting all about wanting to suck her blood. I didn't want to make another failed attempt and further dash my ego, and this interaction was very interesting, giving me a unique insight into the behavior of the mortals. And I must admit, the form of a nude young female was quite pleasurable, like a moving, interactive piece of finely proportioned sculpture, providing more variations of color and contours than static carvings could. And, except for the intense heat, the movements of her slick insides over my penis were creating a pleasant sensation.
“Oh, that feels good,” she hissed, “Ohhh!” She was doing this for her pleasure, apparently, as a form of recreation or entertainment. This confirmed a suspicion I had held for some time. The formal instruction mortals received regarding intercourse was that it was primarily for procreation, to advance family size and power, and secondarily as an act for the pleasure and dominance of the males. The females were seemingly formally regarded as vessels to facilitate male pleasure and childbearing, but my suspicion was that the females derived pleasure from sexual activity as well.
A great deal of pleasure, I sensed, from the way this one was acting, at least until she started trembling. I had seen witches shaking in their trances, and elderly mortals having seizures; this female's erratic movements resembled those. But her mouth only produced howls reminiscent of laughter and welcome surprises, not gurgling nor spittle.
“Oh, I needed that,” she said, slumping down on me for a moment, before rolling off. “But you are still so cold.”
She wiped her hand between her legs, acting surprised. “I finished before you! That's a first. A real gentleman, I tell you!” After pressing her wet lips to mine and then to my cheek a few times, she winked. “I can do you like this, though.” Her inner wetness had slickened my penis so much that her small, hot hand easily slid up and down without friction.
The pleasurable sensation quickly grew, and before long, a tingling in my glans caused me to tense up. My scrotum and testicles tightened, and all of a sudden, a kind of convulsion concentrated in my shaft produced several spurts of seminal fluid in a quick eruption. The female seemed to enjoy this display, commenting on the volume and texture in excited tones.
“Mmm, tasty,” she giggled as she licked some from her hand. She even bent down and took my penis into her burning hot mouth, sucking the semen residue into her mouth, as one would do with the drippings from a leg of fowl that ran over one's fingers at a banquet. It almost felt like a just-boiled strip of cloth was wound around my member.
“Uh, that is so hot!” I grabbed her hair.
“Mmm, thank you.” Why was her searing body temperature a source of pride for her? “I try.”
Again, I felt confused, conflicted. While the experience was a pleasurable one, my kind is not predisposed to seek pleasure. And this was certainly not the consumption of bodily fluids that I had expected for this evening – quite the opposite, in fact.
She climbed off me, and pulled away the blanket, wiping her hand on it next to the semen streaks. “Sorry, you may need to wash this. I'm sure you don't mind, though?”