you welcome to my abode, and that you enter gladly and of your own free will.”
The smoke clears, revealing a tall man dressed in tight-fitting black satin pants, a black silk poet’s shirt, black leather riding boots, and a long black opera cape with a red silk lining. His hair is long and dark, pulled into a loose ponytail by a satin ribbon the color of blood. His skin is as white as milk in a saucer, and his eyes reflect redly in the dim candlelight, like those of a cat. It would seem that Lord Rhymer has finally elected to make his appearance known.
Serge smiles nervously at his demon-lord and steps forward, gesturing to Shawna. “W-we did as you asked, Master. We brought you the girl.”
Lord Rhymer smiles slightly, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the new girl.
“Ah, yesss. The one called Shawna.”
As for Shawna, she stood gaping up at Lord Rhymer as if he was Jim Morrison, Robert Smith, and Danzig all rolled into one. She starts, gasping more in surprise than fright, as the vampire addresses her directly.
“You come before me of your own free will, do you not?”
“Y-yes.” Her voice is so tiny it makes her sound like a little girl. But there is nothing child-like in the lust dancing in her eyes.
Lord Rhymer holds out a pale hand to the trembling young woman. His fingernails are long and pointed and lacquered black. He smiles reassuringly, his voice calm and strong, designed to sway those of weaker nature. “Step forward, Shawna. Come to me, so that I might kiss you.”
A touch of apprehension crosses the girl’s face. She hesitates, glancing at the others, who close in behind her even tighter than before. “I—I—don’t know—”
Lord Rhymer narrows his blood-red eyes, intensifying his stare. His voice grows sterner, revealing its cold edge. “Come to me, Shawna.”
All the tension in her seems to drain away and the Goth chick’s eyes grow even more vacant than before, if possible. She moves forward, slowly mounting the stairs to the pulpit, as Rhymer holds his arms out to greet her.
“That’s it, my dear. Come closer … Just as you have dreamed you would, so many, many times before …” He steps forward to meet her, the cape outstretched between his arms like the wings of a giant bat. His smile widens and his mouth opens, exposing pearly white fangs dripping saliva. “Come be my bride …” he murmurs in a voice made husky by lust.
Shawna grimaces in pain/pleasure as the fangs penetrate her throat. Even from my shadowy perch above it all I can smell the sharp tang of blood. I feel a dark stirring at the base of my brain, which I quickly push aside. I don’t need that kind of trouble—not now. Still, I find it hard to look away from the tableau below me. Rhymer holds Shawna tight against him. She whimpers as if on the verge of orgasm. The blood rolling down her throat and dripping into the pale swell of her cleavage is as dark and slick as spilled molasses.
He draws back, smiling smugly as he wipes the blood off his chin. “It is done. You are now bound to me by the strength of my immortal will.”
Shawna’s eyelids flutter and she seems to have a little trouble focusing. She touches her bloodied neck and stares at her red-stained finger for a long moment. She steps back, a dazed, post-orgasmic look on her face. She staggers slightly as she moves to rejoin the others, one hand still clamped over her bruised and bleeding throat. Tanith and Sable eagerly step forward to help their new sister, their hands quickly disappearing up her skirt as they steady her, cooing encouragement in soothing voices.
“Welcome to the family, Shawna,” Sable whispers, kissing first her cheek before moving on to tongue her earlobe.
“You’re one of us, now and forever,” Tanith purrs, giving Shawna a probing kiss while scooping her breasts free of their blouse.
Sable presses even closer, licking at the blood smearing Shawna’s neck. Serge stands off to one side, nervously chewing a thumbnail and occasionally brushing his forelock out of his face. Every few seconds his eyes flicker from the girls to Lord Rhymer, who stands in the pulpit, smiling and nodding his approval. After a few more moments of groping and gasping, the three women begin undressing one another in earnest, their moans soon mixing with nervous giggles. Black leather and lace drop away, revealing black fish-net stockings and