If Gail had not been the guide at her back, she might have remained knee-locked on her porch. Not due to fear, though that was there as a flimsy thing that rolled at the back of her mind, but due to the strangeness of her body.

Her sex was messy and somehow drunk.

It had started with a deep internal sensation, like a wall shivering ripple of warmth. That strange tingling inner movement pulsed in her womb and with each step they took out in the open, it transferred outward in slow weighted throbs. It was torturous and somehow glorious. Her body was soaring with a rapid beat that swelled her outer lips and clit with blood.

Oh, what she would have given to feel teeth there.

She moaned behind pressed-thin lips and fidgeted with her robe. Her thighs were already too slick as the meatlust deepened, pressing out from her inked goin. At her side Gail smiled, her eyes forward and the hold upon Alderose’s bicep unbearably tight.

She was in so much trouble.

Their trip was unusually quiet, as if the entirety of Kentworks was suppressed at sundown. People shaped blobs danced on the edge of her vision, unmoving or slow as if fighting through fog. Any of them could have been a potential rescuer—or an enemy dreaming through their day while waiting to be called—but it was too hard to focus or cry out to them. Her energy was being funneled to keeping her clenching fingers from seeking out the plump heat of her core.

Before, when she’d heard the whispers of her body, they’d felt like thoughts rubbing against her own, soft and teasing. Now they were loud, mewling, and prying, interrupting focus—touch me, stroke me.

By the time they arrived before Griswall proper she was flexing her hips and trying to keep still with nearly all her attention. She swallowed large gulps of air, unable to fill her lungs properly for her drunken body.

She was sober and not, a terrible feeling. She needed to tip fully into one or the other. Desperately. She didn’t care which.

Absent of human touch, Griswall’s door swung open.

They stepped within.

It closed with a yawning clank behind them, the sort that set Alderose’s skin to buzzing. Or maybe that was the low electric hum of power that came from the lights illuminating the hallway in a soft hue of blue. As they continued down the entrance way onto carpet that sound faded beneath the luring tones of music.

Gentle.

Sleepy.

Invasive.

It grew louder as they approached the sitting room, a caressing beat that brought to mind a temptation that did not consume. It somehow made Griswall softer; eccentric but homey and pleasantly inviting despite the stretched shadows and strange dark pockets hosting blood-red writing.

Then they entered the sitting room.

Beneath the glow of dimmed orange lighting, so different in tone from the hall at her back, lounged clusters of women, most of them nude and coated in sweat. They stretched over couches and luxuriated on pillows in elegantly structured dips in the floor. Most of them were familiar in presence, faces—legs, ass, wet thighs—that floated among her dreams. Giddily, she wondered if they remembered her as the woman spread open in the Bowser Woodland.

Did they remember Cathy?

She blinked rapidly as visions came to mind—

Loud cries and hitching breath floated through her ears, beat out by the rhythm of deeper sounds. She’d known something else was happening there, orchestrated by Gail’s indifferent blade-wielding hand, but when she’d tried for a closer look—

—and gasped softly as memory twisted, folding into confused anticipation. The oddly shaped hole within her memory tugged at her attention. She quickly adjusted her thoughts, away from moonlight and umbrella canopy.

Instead she pressed her focus outward, expecting to see Cathy bound in a grotesque manner. Just like Franklin had been when she’d first peered into the manor.

But there was no Cathy in their current space, just the sensual sleepy movements of tea-gathered women.

Was the Constable already dead and gone? Her sacrifice a tribute to the vampire? What in God’s name had Gail done to her?

“Stop,” Gail whispered against the shell of Alderose’s ear, causing both her body and mind to answer.

Cathy’s whereabouts no longer mattered.

“There. Mingle.”

Gail gave her covered bottom a little push and Alderose found herself drawn into a nearby circle and pulled onto the pillows by a gathering of women.

“Hello, Widow Graham.” The first one said with a dopey smile.

“It’s Alderose.” She replied instinctively as she was drawn deeper among the flesh pile.

“Mmm.” The first, her greeter, hummed but offered no name in return as a different body pressed against Alderose’s back.

Soon, there were more women, literal walls of breathing flesh that pressed in around her with curious hands. It was easy then, to float among their touch, to let Gail’s presence slip from her mind—to forget where she was, who she was and why she… shouldn’t just lay there.

A pair of freckled hands reached for her robe and pushed it away from her waist. She reached out with the intention to stop it but only managed to grab someone else’s wrist before her eyes slid shut. The music was so much louder then, an orchestra that flowed from suite to suite, tipping her mind out and down, down, down to the space between her legs.

Someone sighed against her lips then firmly pressed as other hands, both intimate and curious, kneaded and caressed the tension that threaded throughout her back. She lost track of where and how she was touched for a time, existing only on a cloud of bliss.

Then those lips pressed harder, opening and stealing away her breath. Exploring hands pinched and squeezed, growing fervent in touch and something carnal pulsed in her blood. The lips against her own, once gentle, now sucked and a hand wrapped hastily around her hair, pulling...

Hands grabbed her ass and pushed her forward, onto her greeter who now lay back panting. Whoever had kissed her, had bitten her hard. Her lower lip stung as it bled.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Her greeter husked with a roll of her hips with hands fisted among Alderose’s hair. “Who supplies your wealth?”

Alderose groaned as the bodies at her back held and easily manipulated her, weak between them.

“My husband, he…” Here her greeter squeaked, as one of the women guided Alderose’s head forward, forcing her chin against the wetness of her sex. “T-though he’s been away, I s-still have his status, his power, his money.”

For a moment, in the depths of those eyes, there glittered something cruel and hungry, “But… you don’t have a husband or title. Y-you… you don’t have anything.”

The words hammered at the back of her head, heating her blood, making her… mad, and yet arousal still controlled her body, flared her nostrils, made her mouth water. She shivered and clenched, embarrassed and degraded to nothing but her most prevalent insecurities.

It made her feel small, and that made her… submissive.

“She wanted you at tea,” The greeter mewled with longing, “but you have nothing, and I have something.”

She bit her bottom lip and squirmed, suddenly demanding, “T-touch me!”

The alpha greeter gripped her head tighter, and the bodies at her back manipulated her mouth lower. I don’t have to do this, the thought bobbed up with a lack of strength, tinny and weak against a louder compulsion. She could feel it, hear it, in what wasn’t said. In the pressure of their bodies and the harsh wheezing of her current holder.

She whimpered against slick lips and inhaled deeply, this woman, her controller, was so damn wet.

“I have something. You have nothing.”

Her body flushed with that truth.

“Those who have something can take from nothing.”

But how much could they take when nothing was left?

A persuading tug was given to her hair, and above her the greeter hissed desperately at Alderose to give.

Tentatively, she stuck out her tongue and gave the pussy in front of her a shy curious lick.

The sound she heard in reaction, the low guttural ‘yessss’, struck at her lower belly with a tingling flutter.

She continued to lick, to give to the something, who melted and trembled with a cute thrust of her hips. Her world narrowed down to only that action, the hedonistic attending of the vampire’s guests. Those who meant… something, while she still had nothing.

Her chest tightened with an unusual longing.

I need it, that something. I need it to belong. I want it so bad… to belong.

Franklin… Franklin… He’d been her something, perfect for—

Her line of thought stuttered as a pair of teeth bit her on the globe of her ass. The exhilarating nip sent her dancing toward the edge of violet-tinged dreams. The addictive abyss of being taken sent her mind spiraling with just a taste.

And some portion of her being, small and hovering, knew that she’d been trained to fall to it.

That thought did little else but make her focus twist as the dazed eyes of her mind envisioned fangs replacing teeth, enjoying a sip.

The power of the fantasy, wicked and sharp, took her so fast she lacked the time to notice.

In that moment, she was warmth and flesh, detached from the memories of being anything else. Perhaps, that was all she had ever been, just another body, bound to the haze that punished her senses and sent her sinking. Someone came, humping wetness against her leg, breathing harshly in her ear. There was a clit between her lips, but she did not know whose It hardly mattered, she was meant for service, to be pleasing and willing, despite the tongue that followed sweat across her breasts, or the fingers that stroked her hyper-sensitive lips…

When had she ended up on her back?

Pressure rose behind her eyes and in her belly, the sex she’d worshipped had disappeared—when, how, what…?—her belly clenched, thumping harder, and two fingers dipped within, curled, tugging, pushing—

She blinked, body tight and so very close as her legs were pushed against her chest. They were teasing her, she thought, being too gentle with feather light touches against her overheated sex. They giggled impishly as shimmering shapes, indulgent as they took and took, making sure she knew her place.

Torment, it was torment. An agony that masqueraded as numbing pleasure. A timeless ache. How long had she been the center of this writhing ball, listening to dizzying music against a canopy of starving moans?

Too long, she thought, and not long enough.

A woman thrusting against the wetness of her sex slowed the rapid pump of her greedy hips as a long shadow stretched into view. She gave the back of her lifted thighs an oppressive squeeze, a silent order that halted Alderose’s involuntary wiggle. The shadow fell over their entangled bundle of limbs and the woman at her front became eerily still, with glassy eyes and docile expression. Whatever had powered their animalistic rutting had been snuffed.

Alderose closed her eyes and sucked in a harsh breath, inflamed by the intensity of the vision. Her legs flopped open, no longer held, and she floated, purposeless, without the stimulation. Her muscles trembled from exertion, as if she’d been set to some arduous labor. The twinge that filled them told a story, and yet her experience felt so ephemeral.

As she tried to ponder that she felt hands grasp beneath her arms and tug. She was dragged from the writhing pile of reaching bodies who clung to her as if they hadn’t had enough of her subjugation.

Which, Alderose thought, was probably true.

It was the clearest thought she’d had since her tromp through Bowser, tinged with just the right amount of snark. It was enough to get her heavy eyes open as she was tugged from a lingering hand around her ankle. Now, free from the heat of the cooing societal women she stood half slouched in the possession of another.

Fractured moments bubbled and cracked, flimsy against her murky consciousness, but it was there, half twisted and not, as her body ached pleasantly from half-remembered touches.

Then the person who held her spoke.

“Are you’re still in there, Widow Graham? Or did my girls thoroughly melt you?”

Her ears hummed with the vampire’s low sweeping timbre which mixed so well with the gentle resonance of her music. Her head rolled back against a flexing shoulder and laugher shook through her back from the vampire’s chest. She tried, within the muck of her mind, to not assign the creature with the ideals of humanity, but the beast did so well with enshrouding their true nature.

That should have been frightening.

But she was so delighted to be… held, reunited with the... vampire who so clearly owned her.

A strong and undeniable Mistress.

She shook her head to dislodge meat-thought, then yelped aloud as an echoing swat to her bottom warmed her.

“Well?”

Alderose moaned aloud, compelled to speak, “Y-yessss…!”

“How delightful,” she said, with a hand in her hair, “it would have been a shame if you couldn’t recognize her.”

She took control of Alderose’s head and her gaze moved from the writhing women to two figures in the back.

Blood smeared and flushed Gail swayed with an empty stare beside a shadow draped couch. Against her neck, raised and angry, stood fresh pin-prick marks, dried but messy. Further down, across her naked chest, were two more marks that slow oozed red, reflective against her tawny skin. It was startling to see her look so ragged, with her wavy hair unbound and what little clothing she once wore ripped. Gone were her trousers and torn to shoulder her shirt now hung. She was completely undone.

And that was mesmerizing.

“She’s fed our friend,” the vampire disclosed.

“Friend?” Alderose repeated dumbly, her mind on how long the vampire had fed, on the tiny tickle of horror and contempt that twisted envy through her belly, before her brain itched slightly and—

She blinked, and Gail was suddenly a thing of beauty.

She whined with something deeper than longing as the vampire’s Will teased truth at the edge of her mind.

“Pay attention.”

Alderose stiffened, somehow knowing where she was meant to look. There on the couch, just as messy as Gail, lounged the carving marked Constable.

She wasn’t dead.

Not in the way most would hope to be.

Her skin carried a paler parlor, the yellow undertones now lighter blues beneath her ochre. She’d been branded, marked by twisted raised skin that now carried ink all over her body. It was different from the tattoo that burned on her pelvis, or even the interlocked welts against Gail’s own back design. Cathy looked stamped by the vampire’s blessing, kissed by the blade that had spilled color across her skin.

But it was her lips that had Alderose trembling. Lips stained cherry red before abnormal fangs.

“Do you like her?” The vampire said in a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s rare they survive once you start the ritual. Then they get themselves killed when they go looking for fun. But most don’t tend to obey as well as she does. A freshborn is a threat if they’re particularly dumb.”

Cathy stretched out a leg, somehow looking both bored and regal, and lightly tapped at Gail’s trembling calf. Before the front of the couch laid a pale face-down woman which neither Cathy nor Gail paid any attention. Cathy herself, seemed distracted, or maybe sluggish. Like some sort of cat that was far too full.

“She gorged on one of them then took your neighbor while you were occupied.”

Alderose stared at the woman face-down in the carpet. Nameless, ignored, and forgotten.

That could have been you.

Alderose shivered as her sex clenched with excitement. She was just more chattel waiting to be used.

“I’m hungry,” the vampire husked in her ear, as she walked them over strewn bodies—some moving, some not. “Feed me.”

Near the center of the parlor space stood a tall wood-backed mirror, the sort to be used to adjust one’s clothing. Alderose was parked directly before it, held by her captrix and her choice of wording. With that command rocking against her mind she raised one arm and looped it behind the vampire’s head. In return, the vampire pressed against her back and Alderose arched her neck in thoughtless reaction while her gaze remained trapped—entranced by the picture they created in the mirror.

Alderose felt the vampire twitch toned muscle with silent promise, and she understood on a primal level that before the beast she was weak. The vampire leaned forward with chin on her shoulder and with one finger pushed her orange shades up and away from her gaze—

—and Alderose was falling into a kaleidoscope of gold and lines of pulsing red. Pressure knocked politely, then insistently, at her head, no longer patient when it came to entry. It spindled in and coiled tightly, burrowing deep as it misplaced important cognition. Even with that gaze reflected back in the mirror Alderose felt its dominion tentatively carve out a space for itself. Words bounced across a slickened landscape that used to host thought—She calls to me, my Goddess, my Mistress. She calls to me and i—

alderose’s eyes slid shut, as something alien screeched at her to survive.

Her pride, patchy and clinging.

“Impressive.” The vampire drawled, “You tempt me so well to tear you apart.”

her eyes opened slowly, haunted by the vision within the mirror, but with each gathered breath she felt more like herself. More like Alderose… with the yearning of meat shredding at her concentration.

She wheezed to the music that played overhead with eyes that struggled to remain on the ceiling. She felt more than saw the vampire shift against her and when she felt brave enough—drowsy enough, as the ceiling blurred into soft shadows and sleepy colors—to risk a look in the mirror, her heart skipped a beat and her stomach fluttered.

meat pushed at her thoughts, demanding the vampire’s elevation and her vision swam, but it was shade covered eyes that welcomed her, amused as the vampire—Mistress—grinned at her through the mirror.

Showing off the beauty of sharp abnormal teeth.

“I could grow full on the ecstasy of twisting your desire.” Mistress husked against her neck with hands that clutched her hips with a painful tightness until the softness of Alderose’s ass was flushed against the warmth of her pelvis’ soft curls. “But I won’t.”

Alderose swallowed the thick metallic taste of anxiety in a motion that brought Mistress’ attention to the slender shape of her neck. Her grip remained steady, unmoving, non-threatening, and yet it filled Alderose with a strange sense of expectancy. Pressed against back, Mistress’ chest rose and fell with unnerving calm, her breast-flesh and pebbled nipples against her shivering spine. Alderose’s breathing only deepened in response, driven by an itching in her palms. Slowly, before she caught herself, she found her other arm lifting all on it’s own, raising until it too joined the first to link up at the back of Mistress’ neck.

“You’re so tense, Widow Graham,” Mistress said, “all wound-up and unable to relax.”

The fluttering in her belly slowly rose in strength, like some live thing trapped beneath her skin. Mistress gave her hips a squeeze in response, as if to encourage her restless feeling. Her heart rattled within her chest, stirred to action by a quickened pulse and Mistress closed her eyes with a sigh, as if she could hear it.

Oh, oh! She probably could.

Hot lips pressed lightly against her throat and Alderose gasped—

“You’re so expectant.”

Those words stroked liquid heat low in her belly, and a groan spilled past Alderose’s trembling lips.

Phantom sensations of fingers and tongues skirted her consciousness like the heated sighs that spilled against her neck. Arousal, once low and simmering, began to transform into something tangible. In the reflection of the mirror, Alderose saw pearls of moisture form along her puffy outer lips. How long would it be before her body completely betrayed her?

Before meatlust opened her mouth and encouraged her to beg.

“Is it because you’ve been caught?” Mistress wondered with false interest, before she hissed out a rattling laugh, “This is your third time after all.”

Slowly those hands trailed up from her hips, drawing patterns up the sides of her stomach before they scratched and tickled at her ribs. Alderose bit her bottom lip refusing to giggle. Refusing to lose.

She adjusted her position and closed her legs, inadvertently putting pressure against her now thigh-squeezed sex. Mistress tutted disappointedly in her ear and Alderose almost thoughtlessly spread them again in hungry regret.

Almost.

“Or it because you want to be touched? Don’t you feel unnatural whenever you aren’t?” Mistress said, as Alderose’s brain itched.

“Mmm…” Alderose sighed out in a huff. “N-not true…”

But her belly was tense and skittishly twitching as Mistress’ playfully lightened her touch. With the pads of her fingers barely connecting, she drew her hands upward and brushed against the underside of Alderose’s breasts.

“Still so tense! And I think you’re trembling.”

Alderose struggled to control the rise and fall of her chest as Mistress’ nails played with her goose bumped flesh. They drew up, then down, then up again, teasing closer toward her stiffened nipples. Tendrils of seething desire coiled low and tight, beating a growing rhythm of liquid within her chest.

meat-thought bubble up, wanting to beg...

“Mmm, that must be it. All those little seeds of loss and frustration have been under your skin since poor Franklin left. They’ve been digging into your muscles and making you all stiff. Uncomfortable, I suspect, from a lack of his touch.”

Alderose’s fingers spasmed where they remained locked against Mistress’ neck and impossibly the muscle along her spine stiffened further. Her arms ached with a molten exhaustion that dripped lower and lower and lower...

She was so tired from the cruel hands and tongues of the societal women, who had drowned her in haze and heat-smothered delusion. Even now her mind slipped between wakeful and dreaming, unable to tell how much time had passed during her forced performance for them. How much of her fatigue was due to their actions that had stretched on endlessly without pause?

How much of it was due to the fact that Mistress’ willed it into being with just the husked cruelty of her words?

Alderose inhaled sharply in a cute little ‘oh’ when Mistress finally firmly touched her. She massaged her breasts with an experienced motion, kneading and pulling them slightly away from her chest then letting their own weight pull them back down. It was so… painfully pleasant.

Wh-what was I thinking about?

Her nipples ached sweetly as she felt the intensity of Mistress’ gaze upon them.

“Perhaps, I can assist you with all that exhaustion and frustration.” Mistress tickled her shoulder with the tip of her nose. “Tell me, Widow Graham. What did it feel like when Franklin fucked you?”

How was that supposed to help—

Her thoughts abruptly stopped when Mistress’ thumbs brushed against her swollen nipples in a smooth movement that brought a sharp tingling to her chest. It was so vibrant, too intense, as if she had never perceived the feeling of being touched intimately before. Was she really wound up so tightly? Strangled by involuntary anticipation? Or was she sore—

The alpha greeter had bitten them firmly, her nipples, sometime during her eternal hell on the floor, sucking hard and greedy in her demand for more.

—tender, and so sensitive that her mind could scarcely stand it.

She grunted and gasped as Mistress tweaked them again, spilling growing embers down to her melted core.

“Tell me what he did. Tell me how it felt.”

Alderose finally found her words, “W-we… we didn’t. He didn’t.”

“Oh?” Mistress rumbled against her neck as the rhythm of desire beat ever louder, tightening her body all the more. “Then what of the husband that came before?

What does it feel like, Widow Graham, when you fuck men?”

One hand slipped away from kneading her breasts to instead play along her tight abdomen. It slipped low over the raised ink of her mark and traced along the black edges there. Her thighs jerked forward before she pulled them back, fighting against the low pulse that speared her sex. But she was safe, protected, by the tension in her thighs, by the pressure that only built her wicked frustrations—

And frustration fed into her exhausted seething body.

Alderose grew taunt like a tugged wire string, “He was… they’re always all hardness and demanding. Al-always thinking about their cock, thinking with it…. But so… so strong, rough. I liked it, with Graham, when he used his hands. They were thick. Large. They always are. Taking me… using me. I was his wife and I—”

She groaned low in her throat, words choked, as Mistress teased at her inner thighs, rubbing the gathered wetness there until her skin glistened in the mirror. She felt muddled by her own confession, as if something strong within her had lost a bit of itself with her admission.

But against her ear Mistress rumbled, pleased and Alderose had to remember she was supposed to keep her slippery thighs closed, no matter how firmly Mistress kneaded them.

“Yesss, that was nice. We’re really getting to know each other.”

In the mirror Alderose caught the gleam of sharp teeth.

“But you’re still so tight and closed off to me. I’d really like for you to be more… open and relaxed. It’s what my tea is all about.”

Fingers once content with the softness of her thighs trailed up with purpose. Both hands had long abandoned her chest to attempt at teasing her thighs open. They trembled with heated weakness but did not move, even when Mistress slipped one finger between them, wet and mobile despite how she tried to tighten their softness. She pressed it against her slick lips, delicately tracing patterns back and forth…

The light tickling drove something wild within her, and her meatlust pounced on the chance. Involuntarily she found her hips gently rolling. Back and forth, to the slow humming drone of the parlor music.

O-oh no, oh yesss… I… can’t stop it.

And even that movement made her limbs burn with perverse exhaustion.

“How did it feel to finally mingle with the societal women?” Mistress said, “Wasn’t that what you’d always wanted?”

The finger between her legs curled slightly and the sharp thrill of Mistress’ nail did nothing to stop her gentle rocking. Her breathing grew labored, deep and drawing, and tongues of flame licked across her drooling outer lips.

“They fucked you, didn’t they?” Mistress smiled, “Welcomed you to their circle. It was so different, wasn’t it? From your hard and rough men?”

Alderose gently moaned as words danced across her foggy consciousness, “Th-they’re skin was so soft, warmer somehow. The sounds that they make, oh, when you hit the right spot. Everything is so wet, and smooth. I was so lost in it, like being… firmly driven. I… couldn’t refuse them. All that writhing… and they held me so tightly in all that softness. Making you want to just exist with them.”

Within them as she tongued their cores.

Beneath them as they abused her body.

She trembled when she lost just a bit more of herself with her admission.

Mistress rushed to fill those tiny voids.

Alderose clenched her thighs but Mistress’ finger continued with measured patterns, nudging at the secrets beyond her swollen lips. Her arms lowered slightly as her knees began to tremble, needing more energy to both keep her legs closed and seek more.

“Both sound so good don’t they? Your hard and demanding men. My soft but firm women. But I suspect they fulfill you in different ways.”

Needles pricked along the back of her knees and slowly her clenched thighs began to loosen. Her pussy tingled as another finger joined the teasing of her lips, coaxing her legs to open further. The evidence of her throbbing need dripped from her sex embarrassingly visible and she watched, mortified and incredibly heated as that wetness coated Mistress’ fingers.

“Look at all this tension oozing out between your legs. Isn’t it painful to hold it in? All that frustration just building and building?”

One of Alderose’s arms fell, limp at her side, numb, warm, and heavy. Mistress hand that wasn’t stroking and caressing her, held it and rubbed up and down lightly, but it did nothing to stop the tingling burn of exhaustion. Alderose shivered, as everything else grew painfully taunt to compensate, stirring something harsh and thudding at the apex of her thighs.

“Just relaxing a bit won’t trick the rest of your body.” Mistress whispered into a kiss upon her neck, gentle and sweet. “Maybe if you open your legs a bit, adjust the weight throughout it, that would help.”

Thoughtlessly her feet began to spread apart, opening her up to Mistress probing touch. A chill swept through her body as she became more exposed to the fingers below, fingers that now massaged her outer lips, pushing and pulling as they channeled sensation indirectly to her clit.

As it throbbed, stiff and angry, Mistress once occupied hand returned to her nipples, pulling gently as she peppered her shoulders with affectionate lips. But beyond sensation, Alderose could see her face in the mirror, ravenous and wicked, overshadowed only by the gleam of her teeth.

Together, hips melded, Mistress rocked them into her touch, her breathing calm and even, despite Alderose’s gasping. Round and around those fingers moved, matching their rhythm to the beat of the low humming music as Alderose’s tension grew, not appeased by the slick inky feeling of pleasure.

“It’s not helping is it? You’re just getting tighter.”

The smile of the woman at her back did nothing to alleviate her slow building torment. She was being stroked and sensually driven incessantly up the ladder of arousal. It was difficult to track from one moment to the next, but she felt it in the heady agonizing ache of her throbbing clit as it grew enraged and agitated at being denied.

The pain of her muscles felt just as addictive, even as her remaining arm wavered. Drowsiness mingled with frustrated desperation and an anger infused heat rolled sickly through her belly.

Then a hand touched her there and it was back to nervous fluttering.

She wanted to writhe and lash out, but most of her effort was funneled to the roll of her hips. All that restless energy beat maddeningly behind her pelvis, delegated by lustful priority.

“That’s it, meat. Tire yourself out. There really isn’t much else you can do is it? You need to release all that building frustration, and once it’s all gone you’ll be able to accept your loss.”

Something giddy twisted through her head. Mistress hunger, pushing and prodding.

Mistress’ free hand wandered, awakening pleasurable torment, while the hand at her sex pulled her puffy wet lips apart. She gasped from the action, drilled by the chill of exposure, and watched with wide eyes as her arousal leaked from her throbbing slit.

Then she met Mistress’ shaded gaze in the mirror and nearly fell into the temptation there.

She blinked hard at a wave of dizziness, and when she reopened them she saw a stranger in the mirror; a woman with swollen bitten lips, tumbling disheveled hair, and a complexion so flushed beneath her copper that it made the rich tones of her skin deeper. Sweat glistened off her heaving chest and her nipples stood pronounced at the tips of her breasts. Her legs were parted, her pussy glistened—

It, it’s me. I’m so… wanton.

The alien look in her own glassy eyes, which flickered only with the rolling storms of desire, was almost enough to startle her out of the arms of her commanding lover. Had this been anywhere else, with anyone else, they might have made a haunting image twisted through with the intensity of perversion but still recognizable a loving couple.

But here, in the arms of Mistress—th-the vampire…—she was nothing more than captured meat.

A finger pushed against her entrance, rubbing just so with tormenting and delicate movements. Sharp pleading gasps sprung past Alderose’s lips as the finger continued to tease at her weeping slit. Her inner walls contracted with powerful quivering—i’m ready, her body cried out across her mind, so so ready.

“I-it hurts,” Alderose whimpered as the lust of her body echoed mantras into the pressure that beat behind her eyes. She was deafened by the sound of her own quickened pulse dancing to the taunt thudding of her core. The rapid pounding of her heart began to drown out all thought as that finger slipped just a bit further in.

Then pulled out and resumed its delicate stroke.

“I only want to make you feel better. Feel good and relieved of all this weight.”

Her other arm fell from Mistress’ neck, just as numb and heavy as the first one. And still the horrible burn survived, tunneling down to join with the beat in her belly. In the mirror the inked mark on her pelvis looked raised; swollen and vivid in the room’s softer lighting. It was as if a terrible power pulsed behind it, coiling until it could snap out and punish.

Fear made her desire that much stronger.

She was tired, so… aroused and needy. Crafting a puddle on the pretty Griswall floors.

“Do you want me inside?” Mistress asked in a softer tone.

“I…” Alderose sputtered, but her throat only tightened, now held by Mistress roaming hand.

“Oh no, not you.” Mistress gave her throat a squeeze. “I’m talking to your pussy. That’s what I’m courting after all.”

Yes, yes, yes—the mantra blanked out her mind, a steady hammer at her weakened thoughts.

Mistress’ Will was a heated caress within her head, a voyeur to meat-thoughts chanting. That teasing finger soon became two and both moved deeper within her, stretching her deliciously around their presence. The hand on her throat soon abandoned her, but her voice felt restrained even despite feeling Mistress hand elsewhere, touching and circling around her twitching clit.

Her frustration climbed painfully higher. She was still somehow further from much needed relief. The stiff muscles of her back and trembling legs cramped with anger and her pussy’s inner walls did the same. Teased by slow and stroking fingers, but not taken, not… fucked.

Mistress flexed her fingers deep within. “You’re melting inside, aren’t you? I wonder what made you this way.”

She hummed a familiar tune, one once sung by Anna, though any moment before now felt so far away.

“Oh! I know,” Mistress clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth, “My blood in the wine.”

Sticky heat curled down her spine, dribbling across her vertebrae like molasses. An image loomed at the back of her mind of a red filled glass. Her lips parted and she reflectively swallowed as her belly churned in sudden longing. But even the sweet clenching of her stomach was nothing compared to the heavy throb of her pussy where warmth spilled over, quick and messy.

Thirsty. She was suddenly so thirsty.

“Oh yes, I know. Doesn’t it make you feel so hot?” Mistress drew her fingers firmly down the length of her pussy’s inner walls, inspire a low tortured moan to spill past Alderose’s lips. “It makes everything down here feel like sloshing liquid. Just the right thing when you’re so exhausted and tense.”

Her inner walls clutched at those slow-moving fingers as they drew rhythmic groans of pleasure from her body. Knowing Mistress had been part of the hot flavorful taste that she’d been swallowing made her gums and teeth ache for more.

Her blood. Inside.

Her pussy spasmed fervently and her hips continued their exhausted roll. She wanted the wine to further loosen her limbs and finally relax them so that she could… lose.

Oh, o-oh!

Mistress rocked her fingers into her in three shallow thrusts. “I’d give you more, so much more, but I think some parts of you are still drunk.”

Her knees buckled once, then stubbornly held, keeping her stable against her wavering will as energy built and swirled behind her inked marking.

Then the music around them abruptly quickened.

Two wet fingers rolled against her clit, they pressed and rubbed where they once only teased before. An intense burst of pleasure swept through her as the fingers hastened their pace. Her hips bucked to join their frantic rhyme, and as her body unbearably tightened she felt the power coiled behind her ink begin to expand, pulsating throughout her with the wicked signs of oblivion, driving her closer and closer to relief—

Then the music dropped back to the low lulling beat and the fingers in her sex slowed. Tempting, seductive, sensual, and maddening. The hand upon her clit left to grip her hips and the rolling beat slowed, even as her weakened legs twitched restlessly. She tried to command her body to move, but the energy in her hips ebbed and waned. She was tired again, even more than before, whimpering as the deep warmth of orgasm twisted into undeniable aching. Those encroaching waves she’d chased now left her pulsing and agonized.

No… her body cried, no!

Alderose took a deep breath to scream, head full and close to bursting as painful weight wracked her straining body. But something within her broke.

She hiccupped as fear bobbed in her throat, and once the first tear fell, she couldn’t help her sobbing. It wasn’t fair that she should endure this suffering, that Mistress should leave her so painfully awake when the women around them moaned and slept, touching and escaping and becoming.

How long had Mistress been toying with her while intending to leave all this pressure trapped and writhing within her body?

“Shhh…” Her voice brushed against her ear, soothing and gentle—she’s lying, she’s lying! “It’s so much worse than before. All that teasing and talking… when you just want to relax so badly.”

Alderose’s sobbing was embarrassingly loud in the room, accompanied by that horribly dreadful music. She wanted to claw her way out from Mistress embrace, to tantrum and stomp, but all she felt was terribly alone.

Empty. Nothing.

At least between the societal women’s legs she’d started to feel like something.

And if she’d had Franklin—

Fingers returned to her weeping sex, stroking around her pulsating clit. Alderose’s breath hitched and her crying softened, shifting to weakened moaning as Mistress other hand joined the other in massaging. She didn’t want to be touched again, to fall in the rhythmic need for relief but it felt so good and right when her body still hungered. It was so hard to resist the inked mark’s thudding when Mistress’ hands knew just what to do.

It’s… it’s building again so… quickly, she thought as Mistress’ fingers pushed into her pussy. The other hand pressed at her engorged clit, rubbing, pinching, stroking.

Against her will, Alderose’s hips began to roll, pulling at her sore muscles.

“That’s right,” Mistress grinned from over her shoulder, “lose yourself in sensation. It feels so good.”

The deep addictive warmth of relief began to twist through her, pleasure that made her inner walls quiver frantically. She was going to fall, to tumble into the power that beat behind her pelvis, she would lose herself and—

The fingers slowed and the warmth receded, coaxed down and caged behind her sweat-drenched skin. To be balanced on the edge again left her gasping and trembling, but she didn’t have enough time to complain, sob, or beg. The fingers returned once the warmth had settled, and her pussy clenched hard in painful ecstasy. Other fingers tugged firmly at her clit and her vision blurred as Mistress released a husky giggled.

“Oh yes, so close and still not yet. That taste of relief you crave so strongly keeps dancing away.” Quickly the heat built again within her, as the ink on her pelvis pulled at her hips, forcing her body into a sensual dance. The raised skin seemed to writhe in her blurry perception while shadows snapped along the walls with the unearthly glow of red crawling out of its darker pockets.

And Mistress’ fingers stopped again, milking torment from her inner walls.

Her belly clenched hard when the fingers returned, and ravaging heat burned bright in her chest. Her mind struggled to comprehend pleasure from pain, but the line had been blurred and it felt mostly the same. She moaned aloud in sexual agony as Mistress continued to build her up and up, only to stop—often entirely—trapping that frustration within her sex. Those fingers rolled with an expert touch, hitting her most sensitive places, touching some soft aching part within her, then teasing and pushing her on towards insanity.

Her mind would not make it.

That’s it. I know you can get tighter still in that place between your eyes.

Pressure pushed within her skull as Mistress voice tangled throughout her thoughts. Searching for something, seeking surrender, while her hands kept leaving her empty and nothing.

Warmth built in a fervent gut-wrenching wave.

Mistress stopped again.

Her voice was a crescendo of snarls and moaning, as something wicked pushed to the front of her mind, out of space and no longer hidden—

—her chest heaved when she’d stood over him, body tingling with welcomed euphoria. Dead, dead, Viktor was dead, and all she had to do was get rid of the body—

—Graham pitched face forward onto the table, holding onto his chest with bugged out eyes. She stood up abruptly, biting her bottom lip so hard the taste of copper sat heavy on her tongue. Manic heat curled low in her belly, and she floated, delirious, as someone called out to him—

—Franklin looked handsome enough for the wayward son of a noble. He certainly strutted around like his cock was too big for his trousers. But the woman he was always with, Gail Waye wasn’t it? She didn’t seem to be wed at all. Competition then, she’d thought, but Gail seemed oddly more attentive to her when they’d finally met. Franklin, meanwhile, had been too busy staring at the gardens of Griswall Manor—

—her memory streamed over her conscious like running water, blurring scenes together until faces hardly mattered. At the back of her mind rattled chilling laughter, as amusement tinged the suffocating heat of her mentality.

“Aren’t you a bad little monster?” Mistress’ teeth nipped at her ear as her fingers followed the rising music, slow as they coaxed her body to perform again. Her belly contracted to the steady rhythm, hard and relentless in its search for solace as the burn lanced through her being.

Her teeth trailed down from Alderose’s ear to the neck, teasing the veins that stood out prominently. “Aren’t you lucky, Widow Graham, that I’m a monster too?”

The coiled thing behind her pelvis, the wave of sensation that dwelled in her womb, pushed the contractions within her belly lower, deeper, until she felt them roll through her pussy and thighs, Lazy, slow, like the rocking teasing fingers, but growing in strength—harder, harder.

“A really good thing that I’m a better monster than you,” words caressed her frantic pulse and between heavy-lidded eyes Alderose watched Mistress’ black stained tongue. It rolled across her skin and drew up trickling sweat before it pressed lightly against her first demanding mark.

The bite flared and her lust raged as her hips were drawn back to their agonizing dance. In tandem the bite throbbed along with her inked pelvis, pushing and driving her mind to fracture. Turmoil stirred and teased her mentality as it spilled between her legs in the wetness Mistress fingers drove from her. As the heat in her belly ran unbearably hot, she knew Mistress had awakened something horrific within her.

The maddening pulse in her sex beat harder, lecherously painful as her blood sought to escape her. Her heavy hips obeyed their dance, her clit throbbed beneath Mistress gentle touch, and meatlust squirmed inside her head, just as tangled as Mistress was among her thoughts.

Bleed me, bleed me.

Fingers worked her pussy slowly, back and forth, in and out, until she was tight and hurting. Teeth threatened to break her skin and send her soaring and the most she could do was grunt and squeak, cowed and strung up—

It’s coming, it’s coming!

Nothing would be able to stop the harsh drive of release, of this Alderose was certain, and yet the pain that swam in her arousal drenched sex kept her swimming away instead of toward it.

And her body’s response was to spasm still harder. As if it would forcibly squeeze tension out of her tired muscles.

You’re so close, Mistress thoughts held onto her own. Powerful and stable in a sea of agony, where Alderose simply wanted the pain of pleasure to stop.

Let me help you… relax.

Fingers curled and fire licked at her body.

“Tell me, Alderose… what is it like?”

Her mind squirmed desperately in Mistress’ tightening hold.

“What is it like to fuck me?”

Alderose’s lips were moving before she realized she’d spoken, spilling gospel into the vision before the mirror, “O-oh! It’s… awful, I-it hurts. So intense. B-but, still gentle. Holding me, controlling me. Stealing my breath until I feel poisoned. I’m ruined, oh please! Y-you make me feel—”

W-what was she doing?

Give it to me, Mistress voice stroked, choking her mind and squeezing so tightly.

Her lips trembled but—

She wasn’t supposed to lose, she couldn’t lose, even though she badly wanted to. If she fell, if she relaxed, her mind would… it wouldn’t be the same and, and her conquest of Franklin, the kill she’d been denied… all her struggles and madness would have been for nothing.

Of which she’d surely become.

Mistress hummed thoughtfully as she kissed her tear streaked face before lips pressed against her throbbing bite coyly.

I see…

Mistress’ powerful thoughts restrung her mind, and her sense of self sagged against it.

You wanted that cockmeat so badly, but not for the usual reasons. Still, he was nothing, just as you are. You don’t need it. Meat needs nothing but to cum and be fed from.

Her sense of self trembled and Mistress’ fingers kept their pacing.

But my widowmeat is so cute and desperate, trying to feel brave when she’s so wanton… you want the other meat to respect you, even when you know you’re just a monster.

But I? I’m the monster that defiles other monsters. Strong, powerful, wealthy…

Alderose felt her mind warp, bent in sudden swooning. A nervous fluttering joined her terrible aching.

Oh yes, I could consume you, it’s what most meat wants. But you? You’re different aren’t you? You want something else. Do you want me to grant it, widowmeat?

Alderose felt caught on the edge of a massive abyss. Incapable and terrified of her own lost replies. But Mistress sunk tendrils among the folds of her mind and with little effort found her answers. So much of her was already owned.

The warmth of absolute relief swelled behind her ink, calling to the bites until they thrummed as one.

Do you want me to court you?

Teeth traced over her bites as anticipation ravaged her, boiling her blood that was so ready to run.

Care for you?

Unstoppable rapture followed each torturous contraction, threatening to tempt her muscles to tear.

Marry you?

She arched her neck and yowled, trapped in a nexus of pain and pleasure as those teeth sunk against the skin of her neck and her blood, her life, her soul rushed out. She spasmed around those slow-moving fingers, felt the pad of a thumb brush against her clit and thought with manic desperation that she’d never had a husband that made her feel like… meat.

Then Mistress sucked and Alderose spiraled away, drained with each flex of Mistress’ throat and movement of tongue as her body attended her purpose, her duty.

It felt better than the orgasmic bliss that billowed out from both markings and tore her sense of self asunder.

Euphoric, natural, good.

Relief flooded in and widowmeat slept.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .