The Sanctuary
Location: Unknown
She hated walking down this hallway, the pathway to the inner sanctum was once elaborately decorated with jeweled portraits and marble busts of previous Vampire lords. Now they were sparse of any decoration, except for the deep purple carpeting and eerie portrait on the walls either side of her. The illustrations were old, and retold the legend of their suspected origins. Or at least they reminisced on one version from one tale that may hold some answers to their origins. Even if it wasn’t true, there were hidden truths in the legend that taught lessons.
The old legend was spoken only in dark rooms or hidden chambers. The original text was said to be stored in the archives of the old world, and only visible to certain eyes. Because of this, the legend was told and retold over and over again until it had warped into an amalgamation of absurd stories.
It was said that in the ancient days, before the great flood, a demon prowled the world. It’s name was not pronounceable in human-tongue, but was referred to as simply ‘Old Nuck’. The creature preyed upon unsuspecting females, dragging them far away with great uproar. The women would be yanked almost as if grabbed by an invisible hand, and their clothes stripped from their bodies as they were pulled away to an unknowable fate.
However, it wasn’t the women ‘Old Nuck’ was after, but the men that protected them. Seeing their lovers seized, the husbands would rush after them. Often panicked, they would pursue the creature into the woods with no backup, or weapons. Once secluded deep in the woodlands, the demon would ensnare the fools who had so brazenly pursued it.
No one knew what happened to those caught in ‘Old Nucks’ trap, or what horrible fate had met the kidnapped damsels. It was said that none were ever seen again, although the cries of the men could be heard for miles. Their hideous screams echoed across the wind until, eventually, their last gasps would break their torment.
Only one man was said to have survived the wicked beasts lair, although whether or not he actually slayed the creatures is debated. Of the hundreds of version, several claim he somehow bested the demon, while others claim he challenged ‘Old Nuck’ to a duel of wits, and somehow won. Several variants say he merely escaped, or was bitten and survived. One fanciful version claims he was eaten alive, only to rip himself out from the things guts and found himself forever changed.
Whichever version was true, the result was ultimately the same. The man survived, and his name would be recorded as simply Lucien.
Personally, the Vampire strolling the halls of the sanctuary didn’t put much stock in the grim fairy tale. She had her own suspicions on the origins of her kind, and none of them included demons or grim fairy tales. Yet she was reminded of it constantly as she tried to ignore the colorful illustrations decorating the walls. The tale the walls depicted showed a truly grotesque creature with elongated limps, and a prolonged snout, stealing men and women.
Lucien was shown as a handsome, yet common, man with a pitchfork in hand. His golden hair, and blue eyes seemed out of place for a lowly peasant. Toward the end of the hallway, Lucien was marching from the woods with the beasts head in his hand, and a spittle of blood on his lips. Apparently, this version claimed he slayed the monster and then ate upon its flesh, thus transcending his humanity to become something greater.
The Vampire sighed, and pressed onward until she finally arrived at the end of the hall. Three all-seeing eyes decorated the overhead banner belonging to the massive obsidian doorway. Each was a different color, and each gazed down as if critically analyzing all who would dare cross their threshold. The one on the left bore a lustful shade of green, and its iris was more akin to a cats eye. Adjacent to it, the eye in the center, was a dark blue. It was so dark it was almost black as the pupil floated on a pearly white orb. The last eye was an eerie brown, it cast a yellowish glow alongside its brethren.
For some reason it was the brown eye that was the most disturbing for there was nothing nefarious or alien about it. In fact it seemed remarkably…normal. It was the most divorced of its siblings, and so very human.
It made her wonder what kind of human could stand alongside such gods as an equal? Of course the answer was none, but then again to consider that the eyes could belong to a series of gods was equally ridiculous. Each eye didn’t represent a single person, or higher being, but something more profound. To a Vampire, nothing was more important than blood, and the bloodline of their lineage superseded all. Each of the eye’s looking down at her represented one of the founding vampiric lineages, and each of them casted their gaze upon the younger generations in silent judgement.
To the young Vampire standing at the threshold, they each represented a grand design conceived in a bygone age. The symbology weighed more than the very blood they were supposed to represent. She did her best to keep her focus forward, her own eye color didn’t bare any resemblance to the three eyes above. Her iris’s were a stark purple, the product of a unique genetic quirk that seemed to cling to her own bloodline.
The obsidian doorway was unbearably smooth, and reflected the dim light of the hallway like a mirror lost in an abyss. Despite the freezing cold halls, the doorway was warm to the touch and graciously parted inward to reveal a grand chamber.
The chamber was circular, the second tier brandished a balcony all around that looked down at the center. The guardrails for the balcony were once ceremonial, but little had been done to polish the brass metalwork over the millennia. While the balcony was overshadowed, it was impossible to ignore the pressure of all the eyes peering through the shadows. There were dozens of Vampire’s overlooking the open chamber, all of them noticed her entrance, but paid her little heed. The center of the ground floor welcomed a vast carpet of scarlet embroidery, it made her mouth drool just by looking at it. She struggled fighting back a facial tick as her predatory instincts rushed toward the surface.
“So the rumors are true,” a voice echoed from up in the balcony. The owner’s voice was aged and echoed with a rasp. It clearly belonged to a woman, and her accent was definitely from the old world. Perhaps Russia, or Ukraine, or so the young Vampire thought.
“It appears so, although this only adds more problems…” The second voice was also from up above, although it seemed distant. It was a smooth voice, elegant compared to the rasp belonging to the previous one. It belonged to a man, and his own accent was likely from one of the many Spanish speaking South American countries.
Seated at the center of the first floor of the chamber, a single man had his backed turned to the obsidian doorway. The back of his chair was tall enough to hide its occupant, although his hand was visible holding a cigar on the armrest. As he spoke, the air itself seemed to vibrate, “All truths come with consequences, and we’ve ignored this truth for far too long.” The seat groaned as the occupant adjusted himself. “The question is…how do we deal with this now?”
A long pause fell across the vast chamber. The woman’s footsteps echoed in the darkness, and soon all eyes were drawn to her. There were dozens of eyes above, they all seemed to glow with a fierce potency.
Once the young Vampire was within arms reach of the chair, she halted her advance. She could smell the rich metallic taste of blood coming from the silver goblet on the small oval table next to the chair. It was still half full, looking at it sent shivers down her spine. The blood smelled fresh, she wondered if it would feel warm against her lips.
“Your late,” The man in the chair addressed her with a curious tone. He scooped up the silver chalice and it disappeared from her sight.
“My apologies Senior Magister,” She answered quickly. The eyes above her continued to glare down like ghostly specters. She did her best to ignore them, the Vampires on the balcony were the last she ever wanted to meet or have to address.
Never once had she actually seen the Senior Magister, each time she met him it was in a setting like this. His voice sounded youthful, full of life and rich, although it seemed impossible for a young Vampire to rise to such a position. She doubted the Magister was young, although his voice conjured images of someone close to her age. It was tempting to walk around the chair, and finally expose the mystery, but she valued her life far too much for that.
“Did you infiltrate the Coven?” He asked her solemnly. His slick accent was warm and refined, like an aristocrat from one of her favorite spy thrillers.
“Yes Senior Magister, they’re preparing to make their first move.” The coven was the secret organization of Anti-Vampire’s who had risen to prominence over the past few years. She had secretly observed their hidden rituals, childish as they were, and learned what they were about to do.
“It’s hardly there first move…” The Magister was quick to respond, “Although this is the first one we’ve finally intercepted.” There was a short, yet powerful, pause as the Magister took a long sip from his goblet. “You did well, Kamillah Crimsonfire.”
The moment her name was spoken, the air itself seemed to stir.
Meanwhile
Maggie hated to admit it, especially to Reby, but she really loved giving blowjobs. There was power, and dominance, in controlling her husbands pleasure. Bringing him to the moment of euphoria before stopping it in its tracks, and having him sweat profusely under her fingertips, or wrapped in her tongue.The satisfaction of making her husband squirm was rewarding onto itself.
After years of practice, she had learned how to bring him to the very edge of sexual agony, and keep him there for up to an hour if she chose. Of course they rarely had that much time to indulge themselves lately.
After several minutes of him begging for release, she let him explode in her mouth. He unleashed his pent up pleasure with a series of thick spurts. The taste of his seed was harsh and overwhelming against her tongue. Its gluey texture quickly glommed onto the back of her throat, burning her tastebuds and washing down her esophagus like a thick soup. It took three harsh gulps to gurgle it down, and each swallow was more bitter than the last, yet somehow she enjoyed it. It was her most private secret, even Reby hadn’t known this, Maggie truly enjoyed the taste of her husbands essence. She liked it almost as much as feeling the palm of his hand smacking her rear cheeks, although he had been reluctant to do so during her pregnancy, despite her pleas.
By the time Maggie finished swallowing, Kyle was drooling and out of breath. He struggled to frame words after being completely drained. “Dear god, your f—king amazing,” Maggie’s husband groaned in delight.
With a sickening wet slurp, Maggie withdrew her lips from her husbands shaft and laid down next to him. She was a young, and beautiful vampire. Her hourglass frame would have been hard to ignore, even before her breasts had swelled, now laden with milk. Her dark nipples were already dripping with motherly fluids, staining the mattress sheets, and her stomach was swollen and heavy. She laid on her side to balance the uneven weight.
“I think I need a break hun,” Kyle gasped after catching his breath. He had remarkable stamina, especially this early in the morning, but even he needed a moment to collect himself.
“You’ll get a break, after you satisfy me.” Maggie brushed her dark hair back and curled up close to him. Kyle’s body was toned, he carried an athletic physique from years of personal training. She didn’t know it when they first met, but Kyle had been working towards a middle weight boxing competition before meeting her. He still did his best to stay in shape, even with a growing family, but it was inevitable that he would gain a little weight. She didn’t mind, as long as he continued to love her. With her libido through the roof, she needed a lot of love.
“Just give me a minute,” Kyle wiped the sweat from his brow. His pecks heaved in the air next to her. After a couple minutes Maggie started getting impatient, she leaned closer to him so that her breasts squeezed around her husbands arm, and she twirled her fingers over his chest. It wasn’t until she started playing with his chest hair that Kyle began to speak. “Hey honey, your kinda nuts you know that?” He finished teasing her with a wink.
Their bedroom smelled of sweat and sex, and their bed sheets were a tangled mess. The morning sunlight was starting to break through the curtain windows, meaning it wouldn’t be long before their child would awaken. Maggie hoped there was enough time for her husband to repay the favor for her pleasuring his morning wood.
Maggie just grinned, “F—k yeah I am, now don’t be afraid to be a little rough with me.”
Kyle chuckled, thinking it was a joke.
It wasn’t.
Maggie sensed his lack of awareness. A mad mixture of hormones took over as she bared her teeth. “Oh, by the way…” Maggie’s smile grew into a lustful grin.
Kyle froze as if sensing something terrible on the horizon, “Yes babe?”
Maggie leaned in even closer, “I found the peanut butter.”
“Shit…” Kyle barely had time to utter the single word before Maggie was on top of him. She pinned him in place with her hands on his neck and began to ride him like a sex crazed maniac. Just as she inserted his shaft into the warmth of her quivering embrace, the phone on the nightstand buzzed. Neither of them paid it any attention as Kyle moaned with pleasure, and his pregnant wife laughed in blissful delight. Rebecca’s ID was displayed on the phone’s digital screen as the bed began to shake.
“You did well, Kamillah Crimsonfire.”
Wooo thats me! MUAHAHAHA