You met her… four months ago? You found it hard to remember properly. Things had been such a blur. She had approached you, kissed you…. She was perfect, pale skin and black lips, bright red eyes, her fangs. You knew what she was, but it didn’t matter. Not when her lips were on yours, when her hands roamed your body, when she whispered her pretty words in your ear. 

You gladly gave your blood to her. It was, after all, hers to begin with. You hadn’t understood when she first told you, but after she’d explained it, it all made sense. All blood belonged to her, The God-Queen of Blood. It longed to return to its true Mistress, and that was why you fell for her so quickly. It was why she was so perfect. It was why you served so dutifully. She allowed you to continue living your life, to keep your own opinions and views. You were allowed to live in the same place you had, with your sister.  You were still you, you just had purpose, now. 

But what she asked of you now… was more. You had served by giving her your blood. You had served by worshipping her body. But now… she wanted you to taste of her blood. You knew that even if you refused, you’d be forced to obey anyway. So you agreed. You knew her blood was dangerous, but not anything more specific. You were nervous, afraid. Why did she want you to do this?

She had you lie down, and restrained your limbs. Then she grabbed a metallic device, which she placed in your mouth, tightening it until it was entirely impossible for you to close it again. Your breathing was heavy, your heartbeat fast, as she took out her knife, and cut her own wrist. 

Where you had expected a sudden welling of crimson, instead came a slow, ponderous flow of pure black. She held the wound over a small glass vial, into which the viscous black fluid slowly dripped. She then bandaged her wound, and brought the vial over to you. 

She grinned as she told you, in that perfect voice, that this would hurt. She held the vial over your forcibly open mouth, and turned it upside down. You weren’t sure what to expect, what she’d meant. It seemed to take forever for any of the liquid to fall. A long, thin stream of the black fluid stretched from the vial, to just above your waiting maw. Eventually, finally, the stream thinned, and a single drop fell. The pain was immediate, intense. It felt as if you’d been violently stabbed, right on the back of your tongue. There was no taste, no sense other than pure, burning pain. As the drop slid down into your throat, that intense pain followed. You screamed. She giggled.

Another drop, yet more pain. And so it continued, the pain growing to unimaginable heights. You screamed, tears flowed down your cheeks. You struggled in vain against your restraints. Your vision began to darken, your ears ringing so loudly you could no longer hear your own cries. Slowly, tortuously, the universe folded in around you, consuming your consciousness. You welcomed oblivion. 

Darkness followed, silent and overwhelming. You felt nothing, saw nothing, were nothing. You had died. But… numbly, there was something. The feeling of your back on the cold floor. Your limbs, restrained. You heard the sounds of the room you’d died in. You opened your eyes. 

Everything was exactly as it had been, only the device in your mouth had been removed. Your vision felt… sharper. Your other senses heightened as well. The pain was entirely absent. She released you from your restraints. You looked at her. The woman who had gleefully tortured you to death. That vampiric monster who got off on your suffering. You hated her. You wanted to hurt her, to make her feel what she’d done to you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, finding your fangs for the first time.

You stared at her, as she smiled back at you. You moved to lunge at her, but she simply smiled wider and said “No.” 

Instantly your body ceased its movement. You hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t intended it, but you had stopped. When She had spoken, you had obeyed as involuntarily as a heartbeat, which you noted you no longer seemed to have. She explained what She had done. She had changed you, made you as She was. You were dead. In your place was an amalgamation of your consciousness, the black fluid, and Her will. 

You were utterly Hers now. Whether you wanted to be or not. You were an undying monster, just like Her. Your feelings toward Her didn’t change. You still hated Her for what She’d done, but you couldn’t voice it, couldn’t act on it. You could only obey.

She sent you home, and you obeyed. You looked yourself over in the mirror. Your skin was so pale, your lips deep black, your eyes bright red. Despite it all, despite Her influence over you, you still felt like yourself. You told yourself it would be okay. You could get through this, find a way to go on almost as normal.

It even started to feel like it would be okay, until your sister came home from work. You were sitting on the couch, trying to forget, to lose yourself in shows and other entertainment. She greeted you, not paying much attention. You looked at her and felt… warm. You hadn’t realized just how cold you were. How slow and sluggish you felt. You knew she could fix it. You just needed to…

Before she could react, you had pressed her against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head. Your red eyes boring into hers. Your sister’s fear turned to dull eyed obedience. You had only intended to feed, but that look on her face, her heavy, partially limp body, her curves, her breasts… You kissed her, deeply. It felt incredible to use her this way. You continued, releasing her arms, which simply fell to her sides. You stepped back, breathing heavily despite your lack of need to. You ordered her to unbutton her shirt, and she dutifully obeyed. You stared at her soft, warm body. You could feel the heat radiating off of it. You stepped closer again, tearing the shirt off of her and unhooking her bra.

You lost yourself in the feeling of your sibling’s body. Your lips, your tongue on her breasts, her warm, soft body against your own, now cold. Through it all, that same dull eyed, mindless expression on her face drove you to do more. To use her however you pleased. She was yours, after all. You had taken her mind, her body was simply an object. Your object. Nothing else mattered. 

You sank your fangs into her again and again, relishing the moans it elicited. After several hours, you finally left her in her bed, asleep, to awaken with confusion, but no memory. You smiled to yourself, wiping the blood from your lips. It felt good to use her, to take her and make her yours. It was only right. You were something more than her, now. She was simply food, a blood doll for you to take from as needed. Yours. 

When you saw Her, your Siress, the next night, she knew what you had done. She was glad you had seen the truth. You were too. You happily knelt before your Siress, ready for your eternal unlife to begin.