#vampire content

It was a never ending torture. The maiden had been dragged onto the bed and shackled into place hours ago. Hours of touching and teasing. The Mistress worshipped her. It was reverent, doting.

Every touch made her pulse quicken and her skin hot. Open mouthed kisses to the most sensitive patches of skin, gentle caresses and the trailing of fingertips. It was slow, excruciating.

The Mistress teased her and praised her until she was glassy eyed and delirious with want. Only then did she dare to slip her fingers between the maiden’s legs. The lightest touch had her rolling her hips and arching her back, pulling against the chains. But even then, there was no relief.

She was brought to the very edge again and again. Toyed with. Played like an instrument. It felt wonderful, but that quickly turned to its own form of torture. Every time she found the peak of that pleasure, the Mistress would pull away, denying her any reprieve from the haze and the burning. The lust had clouded her thoughts. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t string together more than a few words that weren’t ‘please.’ Her skin was on fire, glistening in the firelight, and every muscle was pulled taut as she begged for release. Again, and again, and again.

And then she was granted her wish. “You’ve been such a good girl,” Mistress Dimitrescu kissed the corner of her mouth, smoothing her hair back as she whimpered in frustration. “Come for Mommy.”

And thus she found the next ring of Hell. If the desire and frustration of denial had been unbearable, this was so much worse. It was rapture, ecstasy, damnation.

The Mistress’s long fingers sank into her dripping, swollen pussy. This time, when she found that crest of pleasure, there was no sudden stop. The Mistress offered no escape as she forced the maiden to come around her fingers.

It was blinding. So intense that she could have sworn her heart restarted. And it wouldn’t end. The Mistress continued to curl her fingers and stroke the maiden until pleasure turned to pain too intense to bear.

The maiden forced her eyes open when Mistress Dimitrescu finally pulled away. She watched the Mistress lick and suck her dripping fingers clean, golden eyes glowing in the dim chamber. The maiden’s head fell back on the down pillow beneath her and she heaved for breath, glad that it was finally over.

The Mistress leaned in, licking up the column of the maiden’s throat and making her whole body shudder. She moaned as she inhaled the poor girl’s scent.

“You’re perfect,” she cradled her head. “Mommy’s favorite pet.”

The maiden hated how her stomach flipped at those words. She was a captive. A prisoner. Mistress Dimitrescu was a monster.

Since being rescued from the dungeons by the Lady of the castle, the maiden had exchanged a cell for the Mistress’s chambers. The heavy iron shackles of the dungeon for a shimmering silver chain and a cuff on her ankle. She was bound to the Mistress’s bed with exactly twelve paces of freedom.

She truly was kept as a pet. Leashed and collared, forced to obey Mistress Dimitrescu’s every order. Despite her captivity, she was treated like royalty. Enormous platters of delicious food were brought to her twice a day. Stews and meat and seasoned vegetables. Desserts of cold sweet cream and fruit. The Mistress washed her in a basin by the fire. Combed her hair and dressed her up as though she were some perverted doll. She was not given real clothing. Just lingerie and stockings and leather that the Mistress would coo and fawn over.

It was hard to stay strong. Hard to fight when the Mistress was so gentle and attentive, constantly reassuring her that she was safer in the castle. The chain was for her own good. Her mind was filled with promises and praise. Escape was hard to cling to, hard to believe in when she was watched so carefully and cared for so well. She drifted off night after night with her head resting on Lady Dimitrescu’s breast, fingers stroking her hair and rubbing the tension from her shoulders. She was just a pet.

Soon the fight left her. The biting and resistance and the fear. It was easier to just give in. To eat the delicious food and lean into every embrace and obey every order. She wanted to be good for her Mistress.

And it all culminated in this torture. After days and days -- there were no windows to measure the passage of time -- the Mistress had gathered the maiden in her arms. Stripped her bare and tied down and forced to come again and again at the whims of her captor.

The maiden cried out as Lady Dimitrescu thrust three fingers into her soaked, oversensitive pussy, stretching her open around her knuckles. She had already had one blinding orgasm, surely the Mistress wasn’t going to force her to come again?

But the Mistress kissed and sucked her nipples, making sure to leave marks all across her skin. She whispered encouragement as she split the poor maiden open on her fingers. Her fingers were enormous, and they curled and scissored inside of her in all the right ways to bring her apart.

“Such a sweet little darling,” her voice was breathy. “Mommy will keep you safe, make you feel good.”

The maiden whimpered but she couldn’t hide the way the words affected her. She had been conditioned to love the sound of her Mistress’s voice, to crave every kiss and murmur of praise.

She came with a loud cry. Her wrists and ankles burned from the constant pull of her restraints, but she soon found reprieve as Lady Dimitrescu unbound her legs, lifting her hips so she could bury her head between the maiden’s thighs.

And the Mistress demanded more of her, threatened to punish her if she didn’t come again over her lips. The maiden wasn’t sure if it was possible, but she had no other choice. Lady Dimitrescu licked and sucked her pussy with relentless fervor.

And somehow, another orgasm began to stir within her. Despite everything her body had been put through, she felt the pressure building. Lady Dimitrescu eagerly lapped up her arousal, paying no mind to how oversensitive her little pet was as she cried beneath her.

When she finally came, her whole body shook and sang with the intensity of the pleasure. Her thighs were firmly held apart in Lady Dimitrescu’s hands so she could continue her torture.

Despite the Mistress’s best efforts, the wave of pleasure began to subside yet again. The maiden was sure that if there was a way to extend that rapture, the Mistress would not hesitate to keep her like that for as long as she wished.

Just as her body began to relax, tension unwinding like a coil, she felt a burst of pain on the inside of her thigh. She cried out, trying to pull her leg away only to realize that the Mistress was holding her in place.

The pain was muted, throbbing, an almost welcome contrast to the prolonged ecstasy she had been forced to endure.

The Mistress moaned where her lips were pressed to the burning skin. She lapped at the wound eagerly. Had she been bitten? Cut? Scratched? There was a small trickle of blood that Lady Dimitrescu quickly kissed away.

Already dizzy from the intense pleasure, the Maiden whimpered as the fuzziness shifted to something sharper. Darkness pulled at the edges of her vision and the weightlessness of orgasm gave way to a leadened feeling. From floating to sinking.