Depravity’s Daughter 1

Author Note: Okay, this one was originally under erotic Horror and it was posted as a single story, instead of being broken into parts. That seems a bit too long for this venue’s formats so I separated it as best I could. The horror elements involve vampires, demons, Torture, a little noncon, modification. Really, it’s most of the fun things that go with vampires and demons :). The erotic elements include M/f, Mm/f, F/m, M/m, BDSM play, Mind Control, noncon, lactation, modification. I might have missed some and I’m sorry if I did. It’s not a short story. Anyway, I wanted to give fair warning as to what you were getting into and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing because this one was a lot of have fun. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, but if you don’t have time for all that, so is a rating, too!

Lucius

It all started with a man named Lott, with two Ts. He and his wife were trying to escape Gomorrah, when she turned back.

Just kidding. Actually, now that I think about it, if you spin the story in the right light and tell a few lies, that’s not so far off. Anyway, the truth was that I never wanted to be the king of vampires. I never wanted most parts of the story that happened, really. All I had wanted to begin with was a specific set of tarot cards.

————

“Hello, Sirekiller.”

I smiled at my human contact. The name had stuck with me for decades now and I encouraged it. Fear was a good deterrent against challenges to my authority in the underworld of damned creatures and I liked to be left alone. Even among vampires, it is an awe inspiring thing to come across one who has murdered their own Sire. It meant killing the creature whose vein I had fed at for so long, meant killing someone whose supernatural authority over me was supposed to be law.

How did one kill the creature whose every word one was magically compelled to obey? I didn’t give that answer freely, nor did I give the answer for why I would want to. I let creatures wonder instead, let them spread their own tales to inspire fear against me.

The human before me had healthy amounts of fear of me. He reeked of it, the pores in his body excreting sweat infused with the spicy tang of adrenaline. Fortunately for him, I was not a young vampire at that time, or he would have teased my hungers. “Mr. Lott.” I shook his hand politely. “Our mutual friend put us in contact over something I very much covet. He assured me that you are the best purveyor of certain… types of items.” I flashed my teeth because he knew all this.

And I knew he knew all of this because for a half hour before meeting him, one of his hired servants had taken me through a long way of his mansion, ensuring that the route showed off all the oddities and rarities that he owned. I had been shown a great many magical trinkets. A very old edition of the Book of the Dead, for instance, written in hieroglyphs that still held magic in their ink from long dead Egyptian priestesses. A skeletal hand was another thing, one that had been infused with such black magic that it made the demon inside my blood purr to see such corruption. A dagger lay in a case and that had been forged with the blood of a very powerful fae. There had been countless toys, ageless delights, and Lott’s family was an old money name, so the mansion he lived in was an even more surreal and wonderful home for these objects. They looked every bit like they belonged there.

Despite his fear of me, Lott grinned with a confidence and pride that he had earned the right to have. It was far from easy to collect these things. “Yes, as you can see. Forgive the waste of time, but I thought it might be better to open with some confidence building.”

I waved my hand. “I have nothing but time. And I appreciate the thought it came from. Now, did he tell you what I am looking for?”

Lott smiled and gestured to his Conservatory lounge chairs. I inclined my head at the propriety, amused at the politics involved in something as simple as the seating arrangements in a room like that one. As it was, Lott sat a seat away from me, enough to display respectful caution of my species, but not so much as to appear rude. “He did, indeed. Would you care for Scotch?”

“Yes, if you’re offering. What kind?”

He listed the brand and I pretended to have heard of it. I didn’t truly care for or about human liquor, but after enough millennia, all alcohol bragging was the same conversation, and I knew how to play with vagueness. I knew very well how to sound polite while saying nothing at all, so that the person I spoke with felt both impressed and felt as if they had gotten to flounce their own knowledge.

When I sipped, I swished the liquid in my mouth, tasting the poison that translated to human drunkenness. For me, there was little else I could taste besides the variations of poison in liquor, and poison was the best word I could give it for my kind. It didn’t give us any of the good feelings while giving all of the bad, unless we drank it in the blood of a victim. That, on the other hand, could be quite enjoyable. “Forgive the civilities. I’m a creature of habit, Lucius. May I call you that?” At my polite nod, he continued. “Yes, he said you sought the tarot cards of one of the Prague Gypsies.”

I smiled in pleasure. Those cards would have been well seasoned with a particularly powerful readers’ aura. She had known the true magics, the incantations and rituals required for enhancements. “Indeed. Can you find them for me?”

“I can. I also demand payment for doing so up front.”

I considered that. As a vampire, it would not be enticing. I would have been a fool to agree, especially for something so undoubtedly expensive. But I was not just a vampire anymore and this was the same secret that had earned me my title. The demon of Depravity was assimilated in my blood and his magic would ensure recompense if a pact was made.

“As you will.” Lott’s shock pulsed through his blood and he made my nostrils flare with the scent. “I require your word. Would you swear, say, on your first born, when they come of age, to follow through your end in two months’ time if I pay beforehand?”

He tilted his head. “With all due respect, Lucius, you realize that in today’s day and age, such contracts are not enforceable and my death would be noticed if you tried to kill me.”

I shrugged. Let him think as he willed. If he failed, he would not be the first creature tricked by a demon. “With all due respect back, Mr. Lott, I am from a different species and a different world than you, a more violent world. It is a ritual that is more for my benefit than yours and one that soothes me. I ask that you follow it.”

He considered me, but a man like Lott had already had encounters with the underworld of creatures and our idiosyncrasies, it seemed, because his shock faded for speculation and consideration. His nerves even faded and I could easily see what had made him such a good heir to his family’s legacy. “Very well, Sirekiller. I swear on my first born child when they come of age. Pay up front and you will earn what you’ve requested in two months’ time.”

I smiled, flashing my fangs. “It’s a deal then. I have already been named your price. Is that the number you will hold to?”

“Yes. Up front, I’ll even lessen it.”

That’s when I knew. He wasn’t actually trying to trick me. I could smell the sincerity. Sad, then, how the story ended. We left on good terms for the time being, the demon inside of me having sealed our word exchange with his own strange brand of magic, and I was confident that Lott would indeed try to hold to his end of the deal. When I was safely outside the bounds of his domicile and not restricted by invitation on the magic I could use, I dematerialized and willed myself back to my own home. It wasn’t something most vampires were capable of doing, but like I said, I had assimilated the demon of Depravity and he was a timeless, powerful creature in my blood. If not for him and my willingness to do whatever necessary to be free of my Sire, I would still be trapped in an undead hell.

I had not lied when I said I came from a different time.

————

Let’s go back together, to that different time. 509 BC, winter, to be precise. The Battle of Silva Arsia had just come to its bittersweet conclusion. Our Roman forces had been victorious… at the cost of one of our consuls. That night had both the air of celebration and the toasts of sadness for the fallen.

And I? Well, I had garnered a reputation for myself during the battle. My name was said to be one of luck, as it was the name of the consul fallen, but more to the point was my sheer size and background. From the beginning, I had been a brute of a creature. I had been practically bred, born, and raised to be one of the fiercest Roman soldiers. And I had earned every scrap of fear that came with my name.

It was as if some demon had been with me during that battle. It was as if I had been possessed. No thoughts had occurred in my mind at all. No, the strategy and obedience to command were things that had been drilled into my being. Blood had flowed forth from my hands, so much of it. Lust and wrath pulsed through my veins and I had had the sensation of being where I belonged, of being the hand of death. The stench made boys sick, but I inhaled it only to feel myself turn erect with excitement. It had been ecstasy, every nerve pulsing in pleasure with every fleck of blood that rained on me. I had breathed it, choked on it, swallowed down mouthfuls of it.

When I lay in my tent after it was done, I was drinking and I had wanted to be alone for a time, actually. Sure, I could take a whore if I wanted and I intended to in the nights to come, but for the moment I still rode an excitement that burned me and I was worried I couldn’t fuck without killing the partner in my pleasure frenzy. I was in a surreal state, wishing I was back in that rain of bloodshed. As it was, I was already generally rough in my carnal attentions. Violence was who I was and the red haze was my euphoria.

I drank some more of the wine in my tent, having earned a never ending font of it. I was a prized warrior and whatever followed the death of the consul, my future was set. Hell, all of Rome would be set up for a powerful opening with her armies after that battle’s victory, if the politicians just wouldn’t fuck it up. As it turned out, they wouldn’t fuck it up.

But I wouldn’t get to be around to see it.

It was somewhere in that pitcher of wine that I felt a chill that made me turn with a soft snarl on my face. It didn’t feel like the chill of winter. It felt like the chill I would get down my spine when danger surrounded me. I loved that shiver when it was in battle. Like a sixth sense, it ensured my survival. I disliked it, however, when it was in the safety of my private tent, while I was drinking to calm my lusts.

When I turned, however, I went still and my annoyance faded far away.

She was the most exotic thing I had ever seen, something more lovely than any whore I had ever touched, and she had this femme fatale look that taunted a man’s entire being. Danger sparked in her eyes and I felt a desire to violently tame that danger, to subdue it. She rendered me speechless with just a look and I knew not what nationality she was. Her skin was bronzed and glistened. Her eyes were an impossible color and I thought it must have been a trick of the light at night because they appeared feral yellow. Her teeth were sharp and bright when she smiled at me. By the force of her gaze alone, she held me still and silent.

“Such a handsome one you are.” She seemed to sigh her words with a soft catlike pleasure, a purr of approval, as she circled me. “It’s too bad you cleaned all the blood off of you. Did you know, my dear, that you killed the most of anyone today? The death toll you managed to exact was so high that it screamed out to me. I have never heard the Dark Embrace crave to punish one so fiercely. And of course, I couldn’t resist coming to see whose soul would cry out with so much pure, defiling wrath. Those pesky, deadly sins.” She said the last teasingly.

Her words didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but they made me afraid. I didn’t know much of the monotheistic religions at the time, but I knew enough of punishment after death. What was more, she spoke with the light of the insane in her eyes. “Forgive me, my lady, who-?”

“Am I?” She smiled, finishing easily. “My name is Astarte. You may call me ‘Mistress’ from now on, I believe. Yes, the call is still strong and it has been so long since I’ve had one to amuse me.” Her eyes flickered with this light, this irresistible flare, and my willpower was abruptly crushed. It was the strangest sensation that made me gasp and stare at her with wide, helpless eyes. “Come to me. You have not lain with one after your glorious battle, warrior. Allow me to give you an eternal reward. Lay down on your furs.”

I could no sooner fight her command than I could suffocate myself. Where I had once been a flame of violence wanting to conquer this woman, I obediently walked to the furs as if I were her puppet. I would soon realize that was exactly the case. “As you wish,” I said softly, and even my voice was submissive.

She purred again, that sensual sound. “Very good, little warrior. Perhaps I’ll let you up from the Compulsion at times to see you struggle against me. But for right now, I shall enjoy your lion fierceness in the manner of a kitten at my side. Look at you, so proud and bloody. And yet, isn’t it so sad to cut those claws and rip those teeth from your lion head so you can’t even run from me?” I could no longer focus on anything, couldn’t even consider her words or the fact that they should anger me. I couldn’t consider that I should have been physically stronger than this insolent female.

All I could think of was how she looked, undressing as she spoke, how she easily undid the strings of her dress and stepped out of it. I didn’t even notice that she was not wearing clothing or underclothing that I was familiar with. All I could think enough to do was to say, “Yes, Mistress,” and to salivate over the sight of her breasts when she bared them to me.

She chuckled. “Good little lion. I assume you’ve eaten your fair share of cunt, a warrior like you?” Her smile widened when I nodded. “Excellent. Let’s see your skills then, see what I have to work with for my entertainment.” When she was naked, she lay down beside me and spread her legs for me to see.

And pleasure shot through me. Her pussy was shaved bare, without the tuft of hair that would have decorated the triangle between her legs, that would have hidden her sex from my gaze. No, she was perfectly hairless, even there. And I couldn’t find the anger to wonder who this bitch was, that she would walk into my tent and command me this way. As soon as my thoughts would manage to turn to anything rebellious, anything at all, a fog oppressed me so that my body was obeying the next command without considering.

I pressed my lips to that perfectly hairless sex and sucked, moaning. She tasted delicious, spicy and wicked. It turned out that this was part of her glamour, but I didn’t know that then, so I sucked her cream from her and sighed with my own pleasure. Oral and serving another had never been my thing. I was a violent, dominating creature by nature and, evidently, my lack of practice showed.

Astarte lifted me with a cruel, clawed hand in my hair and she slapped my face, the nails of her other hand leaving bloody scratches across my cheek, making me blink with shock. “Look into my eyes, lion.”

I had to obey and fell even deeper into that terrible fog. “Yes, Mistress?” The words left my lips without my even thinking of them, so complete was her Compulsion hold on my weaker human mind. As it turned out, she had tons of control over me, due to the sheer amount of wrath I had displayed on the battlefield. It was the thing that had damned me. Her magical hold was in direct correlation to my transgressions and apparently they were legion.

“That’s a pathetic effort. You are a warrior male of age and I want you to spend this night pleasing me. You are to eat me with the hunger and fervor you displayed on the battlefield.” And then she pressed her palm to my forehead and I felt…

There was nothing like it. No worldly pain felt like what she suddenly did, whatever it was. It was an endless abyss of agony with no source for me to stop it. It was soul crushing despair with no hope for the light of day. When it ended, it felt like it had lasted eternity and I stared at her in horror, my mouth open, though I had not managed to utter a sound. Sweat coated my body and she smiled at me with a sickening form of pleasure. “If you don’t please me, little lion, I will make you suffer until you do.”

I dove into her pussy, sucking, thrusting my tongue like I had never done before. I used my hands, both of them, desperate to avoid that horrible agony, that abyss of misery. I couldn’t think beyond the fog of her Compulsion, couldn’t do anything except suck like my life depended on it.

“Good boy.” Those words soothed over my sweat sleeked skin and I felt immense relief at the very sound of them. “Oh!” She came with a soft cry on my tongue and I lapped it up.

For the first time since her torture I spoke, and it was to give her a compliment that I hoped might please her, hoped would help me to avoid the hell she threatened me with. “You taste amazing, Mistress.”

She chuckled and stroked my hair. “Good little lion. But I didn’t tell you to stop eating it. You don’t want more punishment, do you?”

I didn’t. I dove back into eating her.

The night faded into a memory that I would forever hate. There was nothing but cowardly fear, obedience, and frantic sexual service from me. When she finally decided she wanted to feel my sex, she smiled wickedly and gave me a new command. “No orgasms for you, little lion. I think I like you desperate and afraid for the moment.” I whimpered and it was terrible. Her commands forced me to perform with the roughest, most delicious sex I had ever experienced. I should have orgasmed five times by the end of the night and, instead, all that happened was my blood burned hotter and my teeth snapped with frenzied need. I was trapped in that hard state right before orgasm, so hard that it was agony. I grabbed her by her hair and scratched her and didn’t even notice how the wounds I left on her flesh instantly healed. I was rougher with her than I had ever been with anyone and she cooed at me with every thrust, laughing at my torment.

“Poor little lion.” But the words were said with a smile every time she said them, a lecherously sadistic smile. She had me fuck her in the position of animals, had me lay down while she turned around and rode me. And that one was a different kind of torture, because she held her asscheeks apart and told me to stare at her asshole, to imagine the pleasure of eating it. She made me beg her for the privilege of getting to worship that hole, in those words.

It was the middle of the night when she finally sighed with a little bit of melancholy. “Well, I did enjoy getting to use you as a human toy. It’s too bad that it’s going to end, but you’ll make a very delightful fledgling. The Compulsion is going to make you a fun one.” And then she grinned and her voice came out a dangerous purr and I couldn’t even focus on her words. “And you will be able to sustain far more damage. I shall enjoy getting to cut you open and seeing the torment you can scream from. Come to me, little lion, so we can be buried before the sun comes up to threaten us.”

Once again, in a fog, I obeyed and walked to her Dark Embrace. Astarte smiled up at me and pulled my head down so that she could press her lips to the hollow of my throat. I felt a sharp pain of twin punctures.

Dying was strange. I wish I could say it was a memorable, or even noticeable, event. It wasn’t, at least for me, but that might be because it was not so very different from the fog of Compulsion. Her commands already left me dead in my mind and forced me to obey. Actual death was just one step away from that and the gray film covered my eyes while my body disappeared, as if from a great distance.

But then, instead of waking to a new afterlife, there was a different sensation to wake me from the dark slumber. It started as a scent, something that was sweeter than anything on earth. It smelled like the purity of water when one is near death in the desert. It tasted like the nectar of the gods when one has paid the dearest price for eternal life.

Astarte’s blood flooded my mouth and the sensation of my body slammed back to my awareness. I lifted to that taste and drank it while my cruel, terrible Mistress of the dark cooed over me with such depraved laughter. I would only remember one sentence she said.

“Take of your eternal punishment, little lion, and bask in the glorious pain of the insatiable sins that will never cease their cries for more.”

And then there was nothing but terrible hunger.

————

I had taken to visiting Mr. Lott often during the days when he was searching for my tarot cards. I wanted to study the soul bonds and spiritual seasoning done with those cards specifically, for my own black magic purposes. My paranormal interests involving any kind of bond had grown far more aroused with my demon roiling through my blood. It had always been clear that there was some bond between he and I that was strange. Holding a demon was not something easily done and yet, I was managing to do so for millennia. Of course, some nights he would demand I take a guilty female, demand I rip her apart with my cock so that her blood dripped on my thighs even while I drank from the font in her neck. He was a demanding little fuck in my body at times, but he was worth the price of the sickening acts I had to commit.

Far more sickening acts had been done to me all those years ago. Grant you, I was a guilty soul as well.

But he was mostly quiet now after so long in my body and he fueled my interests in things like bonds to tarot cards. And Lott was more than amenable to a vampire companion, so long as he could ask me questions every now and again. I had considered this deal of his with the thought of a business perspective. His time was valuable for a human’s timeline, and should be bought. What information was it worth to be able to study his collection of artifacts, to be able to make sure he retrieved my cards and fulfilled his pact?

Not overly much, actually, I decided. My demon would let me know if he failed and there was a contractual timeframe set. “You may ask me about my life and experiences, excepting secrets of demonism and dangerous magics. I will tell you some of the lighter magics if it applies to your questions, however.”

My life was not a secret, but the fact that I had a demon basking in my blood was, as was the knowledge of how I killed my Mistress. But I would pay the price of some light information to combat some boredom for the time being.

Lott thought on it. “None of the big secrets, then, I’m assuming. Alright, deal. How old are you?”

“2,500 years, give or take a few decades,” I answered easily, as we drank more of his expensive alcohol. I leaned back in his lounge chair, grinning when his eyes widened.

“Holy shit. That’s why even I, as a human, can feel your presence. Did you know that? You have an aura about you that is black and vast and…” He looked away as if to deliberately break his focus on whatever my “aura” was. “It’s terrifying. You’re the oldest I’ve ever met, then.”

I considered my words carefully. “My particular lineage of vampire is not well equipped to hide our presences. You may find that you come across another of my kind who is older, and you won’t notice a thing besides a slight madness behind their eyes.” It was somewhat true. The real reason was that it was my demon who made my presence so terrible. But arguably, my demon made me a new lineage of vampire altogether and I had not procreated since assimilating him. Whenever I went to try to create companionship for myself, something strange happened to my anatomy. Vampires felt a tug to procreate in the same way humans did. I wouldn’t know, but supposedly it was intense pleasure. It was even pleasure to feed a fledgling, to have them take nourishment from our veins.

And yet, when I went to create, the interest left me and I ended up murdering instead. It was as if I had two biologies to sate in making a creation and the demon was not satisfied. As to what would draw his interests, I wasn’t sure yet. Either way, I wasn’t exactly lying. I was all there was of my “lineage”.

Lott nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I have heard your kind speak of bloodlines before. I did not consider it then, but I assume that means different forms of power or aura would come with each.”

I inclined my head. “Just so. Although I doubt you’re interested in the politics behind it. Vampires have nothing but time and are very, well, boring about their pettiness.”

As I had planned, he leaned forward. “Tell me.”

I did, gladly and without fight. If he was asking these questions then there were no secrets in them. They were like his trinkets, useless bits of knowledge for him to possess, and harmless to tell him. In that way, I paid for the right to accompany him through his nighttime business. He would command me away in the earlier hours of the morning and I would go to find other pastimes to occupy myself, which was not difficult. America was my favorite country, especially during the turn of the century. It was a country founded on rebellion. Hell, there was an entire genre of music created out of rebellion, one that had ruled Woodstock music festival. You could protest anything in this beautiful place. It was so easy for a vampire like me to make a little background chaos, to cause a little turmoil. All it took was one wrongful whisper in the right politician’s ear, one terrible little nudge to a city boiling with tension, and I could spend the next few nights with my hands in the pockets of my blue jeans, walking through streets filled with riots, enjoying the scents of fire and looting and fear. War was a joy of mine as well, and it was really too bad that it was never done on American soil. No one had to kill up close and personal anymore and I could whisper in the right ear that all it took was a trigger pull.

So I found things to get into at nights. Then, I spent the days safely reading and painting in my secluded manor. By manor, I mean that it was really more of a very large house. Think upper middle class, but the location had been the real key to my home choice. Once upon a time, long before the Indians that the British conquered, there were different kinds of Indians and these were far more depraved. The land had been untouched and unknown, so demons had found such fertile ground to encourage things like human sacrifice. We had learned that if human races and tribes were in a large span of land without enough water to separate them, like Africa and the Middle East, they would find each other. This was a better scenario for us to have them murder each other. But the isolation of the Americas? The barbarism of ancient societies? My demon purred inside my blood any time I so much as considered it. Depravity. Such a delicate word, with an artist’s touch to the genesis of it. All it took was that first snap of temptation and something beautiful was born.

Anyway, all that is just to explain that my land was desecrated. To the human eye, nothing would grow there, but to my demon hybrid eyes, the ground breathed sin. Lesser demons couldn’t handle my home. It sickened even them to suffer the stench too long. To them, it smelled strongly of boiling blood and burning sulfur, all the delectable things of their real home.

Depravity was strong. We delighted in it. I could even open my windows and bask in the sunlight, within the safety of that patch of land. I knew not what had happened in that place, only that it must have been terrible because there was no hope for redemption. It was wonderfully secluded and I had every manner of protective magic around that place. As soon as anything so much as disturbed my daytime rest, I would know.

It was one of those nights, though, that Lott and I were speaking. We walked through his house and I was powerless to harm any within his residency, excepting in my own self defense, but I never worried. He was far too curious and I had too much information for him. In between his phone calls, he would look to where I read one of his books, in one of his armchairs, and spout off another question for me. His mind never ceased and I was happy for some company that knew what I was.

That specific night he was sitting with me, got the phone call, and politely disengaged himself. Normally, I tried to not listen. It truly wasn’t fair to have supernatural hearing and it was just rude to eavesdrop.

Just kidding. His business actually bored me to tears. What more do you want from me? It could have been a selfless reason that made me refrain, though.

But then I heard his frantic voice, speaking denial in Italian. And I heard my tarot cards brought up, which earned my interest. His heart rate was thundering in terror, his voice was discordant with distress, his eyes were dilated. He argued. Oh, how he argued with whoever was on the phone with him.

When he hung up, however, he did not have the appearance of someone who had won that argument. He had the appearance of someone walking to the gallows, instead. “Problem, Lott?” I asked it softly, gently even.

It took an immense amount of courage to do what he did next and I had to respect him for it. It was the moment that let me know that I would be kind to his first born. I wouldn’t torture them or kill them. I might drink, perhaps, from a fresh supply of the blood they would offer, but I would be kind.

Because he swallowed and sat on equal level to me. And he did not try to lie. He spoke true. “Your cards were taken from the men I sent to retrieve them. They won’t say what stole them and they won’t go after them. I will not have it to you in the agreed upon time.” His voice shook and he had to force the words out, but he did so with all the honor and courage of men far better than he.

I inclined my head. “Don’t worry about it then.” There was no point. The demon pact would seal the fate of his unborn child. “I am sorry that our business went wrong. You have been good company and I thank you.”

He swallowed, eyes wide and wild with terror when I stood. But he got to his feet. “I can send your money back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I repeated it softly. Because he would pay me back. He likely didn’t remember that fact and he knew nothing of demons anyway, didn’t even know I was one. I didn’t say that reason out loud. Instead I said, “Consider it a gift for any future run-ins we may have together. A peace offering of a kind. Have a good evening, Lott.”

The demon snickered with the feeling of having a human in his debt. He licked his lips and flexed his magic, powerful as it was. I knew before Lott did as soon as his seed took hold in his wife. I knew as soon as she conceived. It woke me from a nap and I blinked in interest. Of course, this would technically not count until the child was born, hence the language first born and it would not belong to me just yet. I would have to wait for the birth and then another 18 years after that.

But it was almost as if the magic was a doctor, of a sort, and this doctor considered it my right to know about the possibility. This life was my potential possession. I lifted my hand up to rest my head on it, smiling at the ceiling where I lay relaxed on my bed.

My demon was pleased. He was excited.

————

Before the demon’s company, I had her horrible company. I quickly learned that my Mistress was a terrible creature. As soon as I woke, that curse of my kind fell upon me. We called it the Compulsion.

Newborn vampires would have rampaged if given half a chance, would have harmed their food source of blood as well. Nature, or divinity – whichever one a man chose to believe in – had an answer for this. A vampire’s Sire held absolute authority over their children. The Sire’s word was law and could not be disobeyed in any capacity.

I learned that very well and very harshly. Within a week she had taken me, traveling at night, to an underground nightmare of a place. It was a crypt she had used for safety during the days and she smiled when she had me there. “This is where you’ll stay for a time, little lion. Stand right here against this wall.” She pointed to a place that was the safest of the crypt. Even if there was a collapse, I would have been shielded from the sun’s rays. “Now, I have a meeting to keep and I don’t need a fledgling following me to it. You are to stand exactly as you are until I return and release you, understood?”

I had already started to realize that my body obeyed her no matter what my will was. It happened without my thinking about it, that obedience, and I hated it more than anything already. “Yes, Mistress.” I intoned the words respectfully, as she had also commanded.

She left with a nod of satisfaction and she did not come back for days.

I would never know how long it was. My vampire muscles cramped from standing straight for so long when the newly born strength was dying to be used. But I barely noticed that fact at all because I quickly had all of my attention taken with something else.

Hunger. Thirst. It ruled every part of my being. It was the worst thing I had ever experienced, an insatiable hole in my stomach. My teeth elongated in animal need, my eyes burned, and I was blinded, snapping my teeth. I tried to focus on anything besides that terrible feeling, but there was nothing else to focus on. I could not sleep through this suffering, couldn’t so much as move from that wall.

I could smell her when she finally approached the crypt and the scent of my Sire’s blood made me salivate, made me pant with frenzy. She grinned when she saw me and I snapped my teeth.

“Hello, little lion. You won’t be needing those murderous intentions for a while yet, pretty boy. You’ll be at my vein for a long time. Now, I imagine you would like some of…”

I groaned as soon as she slit her wrist, using one of those nails of hers, and held it over a glass. The scent was so strong, so desired by my body, that it hurt me to smell it, actually hurt me. But I couldn’t even think straight enough to beg. Astarte laughed at my suffering. “Look at me, little lion.” I was forced to turn my gaze and attention to hers, as broken as both were. Even when she held the glass to my nose and I choked on bile and my mouth went dry as a desert, my attention was compulsively forced to her. “You have to earn your food. Every drink you have will come with my permission forever. Every second of relief is a gift from me. You will learn that. Now, you are going to show me that you understand by stripping naked and kneeling as my sexual slave. We are going to have a nice, long session where you eat me out and we fuck a few times. If you service me well, I will allow you the glass to drink. If you impress me, I will even offer you another glass. But if I don’t feel your hunger in every stroke of your cock and every thrust of your tongue in my cunt, then I will leave for another meeting and who knows when I will be back? Kneel and thank me for my kindness.”

I was forced to obey, near to tears. How had I fallen so low in that one night, what felt like eternity ago? How had I gone from being a death toll that rivaled a small plague to that?

I begged her to let me worship at her pussy and her asshole and it was more than heartfelt. The sooner she gave them to me, the sooner I could pleasure her and slake some of the eternal thirst in my being. I thanked her when she finally graced me with her sex on my face while I knelt.

I worked her for everything I had and it turned out that starvation for a vampire was even more of an incentive than the pain she had given me as a human. I fucked her on my tongue and I did every trick she commanded as soon as she commanded it. She came, crying out above me, over and over on my face.

And she used a riding crop on me when she had me fuck her from behind, like an animal. She smacked me with it, hard bites of the cruel leather, as if I were a prized stallion. “No orgasms permitted when you’re earning food, fledgling.”

By that time I didn’t even care. My cock turned to that impossible hardness where I was trapped in the state of being about to cum and unable to achieve it because her word was law. But the pain was almost a slight distraction from the thirst. And she tapped the crop back against me cruelly. “Harder, little lion. I know you have more in you.”

I obeyed. And I earned both glasses, though it was only just enough to take the edge off my hunger madness and nowhere near enough to satisfy.

The thirst ruled me, constantly, as per her commands and starvation diets. I ate her cunt more than I drank blood, and was never allowed to orgasm for the longest time. Everything became agony and I very quickly learned a self control that would become a monumental asset for me one day. Her cruel commands forced me to control. When she switched or whipped me, I was not permitted to fall and my muscles shook. But it turned out that it didn’t matter how much pain she gave me. My body had the capability to stand through it and it did. It was knowledge that I locked in my head, along with the knowledge of hunger having no end and being a way to control a vampire, along with the fact that my body healed remarkably and the healing process increased my need for blood as magic repaired me. She would often whip me until the cuts wouldn’t heal anymore and the flesh would just be laid bare, bloodless and agonizing. And then she would claw her nails across those marks so that I howled in torture.

The dungeon would change with our travels and I wouldn’t even notice. I locked myself in a safe compartment of my mind and I don’t know why that was, except to say that it was probably a basic self preservation instinct. I would have quickly gone mad in her dungeons if I hadn’t. As it was, I kept that secret self locked up and stored little bits of hope and knowledge. I didn’t know how I would get out of her grasp, but there had felt like impossible moments in battle too, so I would do so if it killed me.

I did something I wasn’t good at. I bided my time and waited. I won’t sicken you with all the details, except to say that I thanked her for every second where my pain was lessened. Starvation and torment became friends of mine in her dungeons and I learned to think through the pain, learned how to focus and not go absolutely feral under the hunger. I learned a great many things when it came to pleasing a woman and she did at least like it rough, so I got to indulge in that. There were silver linings. Small ones, but they were there.

I faded, with that one part of my mind safely locked away for the day when I could use it again and I let myself sink to the suffering, lest it destroy me. Every sentence out of my mouth ended with the word “Mistress”. She would have me worship her asshole for hours, while she cropped my shoulders with instructions and called me her little lion. There was never any affection in the nickname, only degradation. At times, she would collar me with a cruel device that pierced into my neck and let my blood onto my shoulders so that I would have to smell it in my hunger, would have to feel the waste of such a precious fluid that I never received enough of.

And of course I learned her pussy both inside and out. I learned the way it looked spread around two fingers, the way it looked spread around my fist. I learned the way it pulsed and flowered apart with her arousal, the lips thickening and reddening and falling open to accept more. I learned the way her clit turned engorged and swollen to better allow me access to tease it.

So, it’s true that I learned much from my cruel Mistress, perhaps more than any fledgling ever has under a proper and caring Sire. My Mistress, as it turned out, was not at all the norm. I would learn this later because our relationship did change. Eventually, after decades, she decided I was quite well broken, and allowed me certain freedoms. I would receive a night for myself, for instance, after she commanded me to not feed and to not fuck another. And no orgasms, always that. She would give me times when I was to be back. I obeyed every one of her commands and curfews, even returned earlier than commanded, always. I needed her trust, needed her to know me for a truly insane fledgling. So when she would have guests over and would make me kneel beside her to humiliate me in front of other vampires, I suffered through it. She was delighted when she commanded me to bark, saying I was her little stud, and I did so with a crazed little smile.

Her guests were my first tip off. Most of them would react to my service to her with horrified amazement. “You are a cruel Sire, Astarte.”

To which she would laugh. “Why else would I make a fledgling?” More rarely, there were other friends she would invite over and they would be amazed, but would want to see more of my Humiliation. To which she would also laugh. “Come here, little lion. My friend is going to fuck your asshole with a toy while you fuck me. No orgasms.” And she would take up the crop to stroke me with it like I was an animal while I took these things. I had never been interested in males and yet I learned to fuck those as well, especially after the first time I balked from doing it.

I took it, worshiped her as if I were a broken creature. And it pleased her so that she even started to allow me up to a week of freedom when she had to leave and didn’t want me to go with her. “I will leave blood that you are allowed to drink every other day. No orgasms. And you may do as you please, so long as you are in this bed to serve me when I return.”

“Yes, Mistress. Your leaving wounds me, Mistress.”

“Then I’ll give you an extra terrible whipping tonight, little stud, to take your mind off of it.”

But I didn’t care about suffering the pain and humiliation and starvation anymore. I only knew that she was taking trips and leaving me be.

And I would find a way to be free or die trying. Desperation makes men do very insane acts. Vampires, as it turns out, are similar in that aspect.

————

I felt the flare of my demon’s magic another night after Lott’s pact, but this time it was far more intense and wild. It reverberated through me and I shot up in my bed, excited. Depravity sang in my blood. Lott’s wife’s pregnancy had been a success, it seemed, and the child was born right in time for the sun to fall. By the time I was readied and dressed in a black Rolling Stones shirt and some cargo pants, it was time for all demons to be let loose on the earth.

I willed myself to his house and then focused. The magic pointed in the direction of a child, directed me to what would be mine in exactly 18 years, but the direction was more precise the nearer I was. I got the bearing and willed myself to the new location.

“Oops.” I said it softly. Evidently his wife had given birth in a very prestigious hospital. In my excitement I hadn’t considered that fact, somehow. I had materialized right in the middle of a hallway. But fortunately, at night, there wasn’t anyone around. I was safe to look in the window where Mr. and Mrs. Lott held their first born together. Beside them were expensive little dresses and pink balloons that let me know-

Their first born was a daughter. My demon giggled in my veins, already imagining her father’s horror when I took her the day she came of age. His pact would haunt him until the day he died and the little girl would still remain mine. Of course, I would keep her safe and honor him enough to never harm her. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have been capable of harming a creature pledged to me in the same way I had been so harmed and violated.

But he wouldn’t know that, would he?

As if he felt my demon’s presence, his head abruptly snapped up and the blood drained from his face as soon as he saw me. His mouth fell open in a kind of horror that amused me, and I inclined my head with a small smile. He managed to leave his wife, who seemed all too happy to rest with the child that she would be taking care of for me. Of course, she didn’t know that she was merely a surrogate now, but it didn’t matter.

I moved behind the door where she would not have to suffer my appearance. This pact was not with her. No, it was with the man who walked out the door and stared at me in a panic. “Lucius, you can’t do that.