The Vampire Interview
The Vampire Interview
| Sex Story Author: | Dark Talons |
| Sex Story Excerpt: | “Welcome, Miss Grayson,” the woman purred, voice smooth as silk, a faint accent curling the edges. “I’m Seraphina. |
| Sex Story Category: | Domination/submission |
| Sex Story Tags: | Domination/submission, Erotica, Fantasy, Girls domination, Monster, Non-consensual sex |
The Vampire Interview ~ by DarkTalons
Lena Grayson slumped in the driver’s seat of her beat-up hatchback, the engine ticking as it cooled outside the wrought-iron gates of a sprawling gothic mansion. A journalist for The City Pulse, she’d clawed her way through gritty crime beats and dull city council meetings, only for her editor to dump this fluff piece on her lap: “Interview with a Self-Proclaimed Vampire.” She snorted, rubbing her temples—either her publisher was scraping the barrel, or this was payback for last week’s snarky email. “Fucking vampires,” she muttered, grabbing her notepad and recorder. “Let’s just get this circus over with.”
The house loomed ahead—three stories of dark stone, ivy choking the walls, stained-glass windows glinting like eyes in the dusk. She stepped out, gravel crunching under her Chelsea boots—black, scuffed, practical—her grey jeans and loose button-up shirt screaming I don’t care, though they hugged her slim frame just enough to hint at curves she rarely flaunted. Shy by nature, Lena hid behind her work, her brown hair pulled into a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose. She reached for the gate buzzer, but before her finger hit it, the iron creaked open, slow and deliberate, like the place was waiting for her.
“Creepy,” she mumbled, trudging up the short path, her skepticism a shield against the unease prickling her spine. The massive oak door swung inward as she approached, and out stepped a vision that made Lena’s breath catch—despite herself. The woman was stunning, late 40s but ageless, with porcelain skin, jet-black hair cascading in waves, and crimson lips curled into a knowing smirk. Her dress was vampiric perfection—black velvet, floor-length, clinging to a lush hourglass figure, slit high to reveal fishnet-clad ankles flowing into elegant stiletto heels, glossy black, five inches of wicked grace. She extended a hand, and Lena’s eyes snagged on her nails—long, dark red stilettos, an inch past her fingertips, sharp and gleaming like bloodied daggers.
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