Taken by Lilith

“Feed, Fuck, Take what is rightfully yours.” {Lilith had spoken to me, whispered her commands without even moving her lips. My Goddess had to be obeyed. Stepping out into the alley behind the bar, I abandoned my fellow Vampyrs, wiping myself clean of blood as I looked out into the darkness. Large containers of waste decorated the entire right wall, while the left was left bare, only disturbed by the silhouette of a human body. The shape belonged to a young man, his white apron stained with his own blood, seemingly flowing from the palm of his hand. As silent as death itself, I stalked closer, my fingers still buried in the pockets at my sides.} “Oh no…Are you injured?” {My voice rung out through the narrow alley, sweet and alluring, perfect for attracting my prey. The man raised his head to look at me, for a moment appearing to have forgotten about the bleeding wound he was carrying, a slight smile on the corners of his mouth.} “Just a cut. I’m such a klutz with the knife.” {He chuckled, elevating his arm to show me the sizable tear in his skin. I advanced on him, slowly, but with determination, eventually capturing his hand in my own, examining the rough pad of his palm.} “It’s quite deep. You should get someone to take a look at it.” {Azure orbs gazed at the man’s face beneath thick eyelashes, rosy petals parting in a coy smile.} “I used to play doctor with the neighbour boys all the time when I was little. I’m sure I qualify as a professional.” {The man hesitated, having to clear his throat at my confession before replying.} “Uhh…sure. Go ahead.” {He grinned toothily, raising our joined hands so that I could get a good look at his injury. I lowered my head, placing a light kiss directly onto the source of his fleeing blood, my lips soon stained crimson, the taste of his essence making me purr. Five perfectly manicured fingers came to press against the man’s broad chest, trapping him between myself and the brick wall behind him, keeping him pinned from the first moment my fangs descended and tore at the flesh of his palm, deepening the wound. A cry of pain and horror escaped the man’s throat, his striking blue eyes wide in confusion.} “What the hell are you doing!? Get off of me!” {A growl rippled through my lithe body, and I straightened up to look at him, my features clearly displaying annoyance. Releasing his hand, my own came to grasp his chin, and I shushed him before my lips met his. It did not take long before I felt the intrusion of his tongue within my mouth, and I reciprocated by clamping my teeth down on the rough slab of muscle, severing it in half. Blood flooded both our mouths, and as I pulled away, I forcibly shut his to keep him from screaming.} “Keep your mouth closed or you’ll bleed to death before I can get what I want from you.” {I chided him, enjoying the look of complete agony on his face. The palm of my hand pressed down upon his full, bloodstained lips, ensuring he would stay silent before I plunged my aching fangs directly into his throbbing jugular…}

~~~

{The pale light of the moon illuminated my alabaster face as I lifted my gaze to observe the shining orb on the black night sky, a cool breeze took a hold of my raven tresses and raised them to the heavens, causing a disarray I would have to confront before I could go back inside. @VampKingBill was there in the inky pool of darkness, his pale gaze the only part of him that was visible to me before he stepped forth. A predatory look swept across his usual somber visage, descended fangs protruding from beneath his upper lip, fixing me with those icy hues, keeping me mesmerized until his broad chest pressed against mine.} “Bill…what are you…” {I fell silent as @VampKingBill’s left foot nudged at the corpse upon the ground, kicking the remainder of my meal away before backing me up against the nearest brick wall. He said nothing as his large hand coiled about my throat, one muscular leg parting both of mine, knee pressing gently against the junction between my thighs. It seemed he was on a mission. He had been touched by Lilith. Just like I. A soft whimper of desire was uttered between sharp ivories, my head falling back against the wall behind me as pleasure in form of an electrical current rippled through my body. @VampKingBill replaced his teasing knee with five, strong digits, caressing me through my denim prison, until I was certain he could feel the heat pooling between my thighs. Our clothes soon became the enemy, and in blurs of impossibly fast movements, every piece of fabric that concealed our naked bodies were discarded of.} “You’re drippin’, Nora…” {His husky voice taunted, calloused fingers probing and exploring my most sensitive flesh, every little touch driving me wild. I felt him harden against my hip, and much to his amusement, an involuntary gasp escaped me. Delicate fingers reached for him, wrapping about his impressive manhood, hungering for him more than I had ever hungered for blood. He batted my hand away, and firmly spun me around to face the wall, naked breasts brushing against the rough bricks as my rounded backside was pulled against his hips. Before I had time to react, @VampKingBill split me in half, impaling me on his hardness, mercilessly slamming his body into mine, taking what he wanted and using me for his pleasure. Just like Lilith had encouraged him to do.} “Feed. Fuck. Take what is rightfully yours.”

Ireland – 1620

The distinct scent of aged wood laced my senses as I took my place in the tiny cubicle, half having expected to burst into flames the very moment I first set foot inside the church. Svelte digits reached out to trail over a thick layer of dust that rested upon the decorated screen separating me from Father Adrian Campbell, tiny particles consisting mostly of dead skin cells and insect-waste clinging to the pads of my alabaster fingers. I could see his silhouette from behind the screen, in the form of a crooked nose and square jaw, his voice surprisingly similar to that of a female as he spoke. “Speak, Child.” Slim thighs came to rest against my chest, my lithe form curled up on the uncomfortable bench where I was sitting, the light fabric of a floor length gown covered every inch of naked skin from my torso to my legs, yet somehow still clung to every full curve. Pale lips lifted in a deceivingly innocent smile, almost so convincing I could believe it myself, and eventually parted to allow well  rehearsed words to escape. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…a long time since my last confession.”  Like the sinner I was, I had no qualms about lying in this sacred place, because the truth was that I had never asked forgiveness from The Lord before. “What is on your mind?” The soprano voice of Father Campbell seeped through the thin screen  once more, the movements of his shadows revealing that he was dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. Nervous? Did he know something was not right? Under the pretence of not having noticed his distress, I continued, remaining very still in my seat. “Oh, Father, I do not know what to do. I have been so very bad.” Timidly whispered words were expelled from my pretty mouth, echoing softly in the narrow cubicle, immediately catching the holy man’s attention. “I do not think Hail Mary’s will earn me forgiveness in this situation…” I continued, dragging it out, enjoying the thick tension that had spread through the room. “God will forgive you, My Child, as long as you are truly sorry for your actions. Tell me what troubles you so.” Oh, the trusty Father Campbell, always believing his Master would come to the rescue, always believing God actually cared about the human race. How very wrong he was. “I have killed people. And it will happen again.” Silence. The sound of Father Campbell’s elevated heartbeat was all that could be heard, the large organ appearing to be beating faster with every passing  second. The sole of my naked foot pressed against the door to my cubicle, pushing the barrier away so that I could slip out  into the open air of the church, coiling my fingers about the doorknob leading to Father Campbell’s whereabouts. Dark cerulean spheres traversed over the man’s aged face, examining every wrinkle, every inch of rough furrowed skin that decorated his features. “So, Father, is there hope for me?” He rose to stand, clearly uncomfortable even before he noticed the abnormality of my fangs, but I did not allow him to move outside of his prison. The palm of my open hand thrust against Adrian’s sunken chest, forcing him to sit back down so that I could straddle his lap, lily-white thighs on either side of him. He gasped, squirming uncomfortably beneath me, silently attempting to escape the dangerous situation I had forced upon him. “Well, what do you say? Will I be welcomed into God’s Great Kingdom?” Administering a cruel smirk, I wrapped strong fingers  around the base of his throat, sharp claws digging into his delicate skin until blood was drawn. “I will interpret your silence as a No, Father.” Darkened gaze bored its way into Father Campbell’s frightened one before I leaned in to whisper, my cold  breath dancing over his earlobe. “Wrong answer.” My free hand raised the hem of my dress to reveal a beautiful athame, nuzzled safely in a leather holster around my thigh, which was quickly left empty. Cold steel blade promptly replaced the former position of my fingers, cutting through skin, muscles and bones, creating an awful bloody mess before Father Campbell’s head was finally severed from his shoulders. Hands, face and dress stained crimson, I pushed myself off of my prey’s lap, keeping a hold of my trophy by its hair as I exited the stands, sauntering down the aisle of the church and leaving a bloodied trail behind me. Glancing down upon the dripping head in my hand, I knew already then that this would be the perfect St. Valentine’s gift for my darling Godric.

Flashback – 1594

 

“Thomas Gainsborough, it is the court’s wishes that you, for such grievous offends against the State will be drawn from the prison to the place of execution upon an hurdle or sled, where you shall be hanged till you be half dead, and then taken down, and quartered alive; after that, your members and bowels will be cut from your body, and thrown into a fire, provided near hand and within your own sight, even for the same purpose.” My petite, ten year old body, was curled up against the much muscular one of my father, fearful features graced my face as it pressed to the nape of his neck in an attempt to block out the sights and sounds emitting from around us. No more than two days had passed since my uncle Thomas had been found guilty of treason against the Queen, for poisoning some of Her Majesty’s closest advisers, and already we were stood upon the square in Surrey. A newly built scaffold had been placed before the eager villagers, most of them eager for the entertainment my uncle’s execution would bring them. The priest and executioner had already taken their places, the latter making certain the noose of my uncle’s hanging rope had been tied correctly. I felt my father’s arms tighten around me as the sound of approaching hoof beats caught his attention, his face as pale as a corpse. Even his ginger beard seemed to have lost its colour. I raised my head to look towards the scaffolds, seeing the weakened and injured form of my uncle climbing the stairs, his jaw quivering violently, as if he was about to cry. “Do not look, my Nora. You will have night terrors.” My father barely managed to choke out the words, and I tugged affectionately on his beard, placing a kiss upon his scruffy cheek, but did not heed his warning. Uncle Thomas had always been good to us, to me, and I would not let him feel alone and abandoned on his last day. I owed him that much. “I beg you all to pray for me,” Uncle Thomas cried at the crowd that had gathered to watch, and a few of us, including myself and my father, lowered our heads in a quick, silent prayer. God have mercy on his soul. I clung to my fathers shoulders when the noose was put about my uncle’s neck, the executioner and his assistants soon tugging on the rope until he was suspended above the ground, his feet and legs flailing as he was deprived of the oxygen he so desperately needed. Uncle Thomas’ eyes bulged out of their sockets, his pale face turning a shade of purple, and just as I thought he would fall unconscious, they lowered him back onto the scaffold again. “Father, what is happening?” I whispered in confusion, for my uncle was not yet dead. “What are they doing?” Father did not answer, for he knew I would find out soon enough. A few seconds passed before Uncle Thomas was hoisted up into the air again, repeating the painful process of strangulation, testing his limits before allowing him back down again. By now, he was gasping for air, his body limp, and too exhausted to move. My brow furrowed in further confusion, when the noose was removed, and my uncle placed upon a wooden table, his arms and legs restrained to either corner. My father’s eyes glistened with tears, the sound of my uncle’s pleas for mercy no more than a faint wheezing. I felt the hand of my parent upon the back of my head, gently attempting to coax me to look away, yet I did not yield, my innocent gaze was locked upon the executioner and his sword that was held above the flames of a nearby fire. I did not know it then, but the searing hot blade would make my uncle’s death even slower. It would cauterize his wounds in such a manner he would not bleed to death at once, thereby having the time to see his insides being torn apart. I watched the sword as it was plunged into my uncle’s chest, his screams of agony ringing in my ears, making me tremble and whimper, bile rising in my throat. I hated that executioner. I hated Queen Elizabeth for condemning my uncle to a painful death. I hated the crowd, my father, myself, for doing nothing to stop it. I hated the entire human race.