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Part 2: Shadows
Introduction: Luna Crescente
Did you like how Arianthe told her on the night of the dinner party? I admit that I picked up a copy, and while her initial descriptions of me were a bit catty (I’m way older than that Claudia character was), I can’t really fault her for detesting me at first. I was a bitch, and I still am a bitch. Just not to her. Never again.
I live a life of secrets, and I know that’s not really shocking news given that I’m a vampire. All of us have a few skeletons in our closets, even fledgling like me. Honestly, I’ve only been living the unlife for ten years now, which may seem like a lot to the living. To the dead? It’s nothing. I’m a flash in the pan, and might as well still be going through my reawakening pangs. Generally speaking I have no plans to get involved with the ancients, nor even the entrenched vampire aristocracy of the night courts in Europe, which is where I happen to live. Specifically, I live in a castle high up in the Italian Alps, and I live there with my sire Julien and the rest of his little harem.
I mention Arianthe only because she was sired after me, and until that point I was the youngest in our master’s flock. I was spoiled and fussed over; I was his favorite toy. Of course, up until Arianthe came along, and I hated her for it. For the first time I’d found someone to protect me and accept me as I am, and that bitch, unknowingly, had ruined it all. Or so I’d thought. I’ll admit right now that I was paranoid and filled with anger that anyone but Julien would know that I wasn’t born a woman, yet lived like one anyway. If you want to be pedantic I’m a transgendered woman, or transgirl for short. Back when I was alive, the best I could do was take hormones when I could, and surgery was just never an option.
Luckily my frame is slight and short, and my features are cute and feminine. They’ve always been, even before I transitioned, and then transitioned again as a vampire. Now I can pass anywhere I go, save a bedroom, and at this point only a precious few people even have the right to bed me now. Being part of an influential undead aristocrat’s house has its perks, after all.
But back to Arianthe. After that night of the dinner party, when everything seemed to happen at once, her care was transferred over to Julien’s wife, Siran. Siran’s a gorgeous, terrifying woman because she doesn’t flaunt it. She doesn’t need to. She is Julien’s moon and stars, and he’s the world to her. Even so, they live apart, and Arianthe was gifted to her as a present. Both Mistress and fledgling were very pleased with the arrangement, as was I. It meant that I got to be spoiled again.
And I’m being spoiled rotten.
Chapter 1: Primo Quarto
Vampire’s don’t sweat after a certain point in our maturation. It takes the body a few years to really and truly cross over into undeath, so for a while things like sweating or drooling or runny noses happen every once in a while. I’ve recently gotten over that stage, which is probably good given how I’d likely be slippery as hell right now beneath Julien.
We’re currently in Venice, and it’s a hot, sticky summer night. He’s here on business, and I’m here because his business is stressful. Sometimes he delights in showing me around the canals and picking up some gorgeous thing to feed on, and sometimes he doesn’t want to leave the hotel. Tonight it’s the latter, and my fingers tensely grip the sheets as he moves over me, his hips concussing my ass as he fucks me hard. My breasts, small but natural at least, press into the sheets, my sensitive, hard nipples scraping on the soft cotton.
My master doesn’t feel like talking through tonight, so the only background music is the ambient noise coming from the canal out the window, the street sounds further off, and the squeak of the mattress. He’d brought some of our living servants with us, just in case the hunting wasn’t good in the city. Because of this both of us had fed just before, leaving our cocks rigid and almost painfully hard. Not that I can do anything about mine, given that he has my wrists gripped tightly and pressed to the bed by my shoulders. My knees and thighs burn a little with the effort of propping up my hips against his passionate thrusting, and every movement slides his fat cock in and out of my tight ring. He’s getting close now, I can feel it, and every scrape and rub of the underside of his cock against my prostate makes my crown drool just a little more.
“Please!” I beg in a hoarse whisper, wriggling my shoulders a little.
“No.” It’s firm and dismissive, and I close my eyes, curling my toes.
“Master, please!” I really shouldn’t have said that.
His left hand releases my wrist and grabs a fistful of my long blond hair instead. I gasp shrilly as he wrenches my head back, twisting my locks until the pressure on my scalp makes me whine pathetically like a dog. Or a bitch, if you want to get technical. The punishment only makes my slender dick twitch and jump, and the pain makes my body shudder and clench, especially around the thick meat stuffing my ass.
Julien doesn’t last long after that, and I can hear it in the desperation of his grunts above me. His hips cram against mine, my slender ass still soft enough to make it comfortable for both of us as he lodges himself deep. Within me I can feel his shaft pulse as spurts of hot cum make the already tight fit a little tighter, and I whimper at the sensation. So good, so dirty, so perfect.
Neither of us need to breathe, but after hard we’re both left panting out of habit. Hearing him breathe above me and feeling his weight push me down against the mattress satisfies my tremendous ego. Julien chose me, not any of his other girls. Therefore I must be the best. I must be his favorite not Domina or Natasha, the latex and leather S&M duo, and not Veronica the brooding goth goddess (who I don’t have a crush on, really. Okay, I do). And like I said, Arianthe is out of the picture.
As I revel in my position as the top girl while, currently, being on the bottom, Julien releases his hold on my hair and right wrist and pets along my back. “My darling girl, you know what I like.”
With a small smile, I close my eyes and push, my body squeezing his still sensitive, softening cock. The man above me utters a soft moan as I expel him, his load of cum dribbling in his wake down along my tight balls and my shaft. I’m guided to lie on my back on the bed, and a ray of moonlight shines in through the open window to half illuminate my pale, nubile body. I look up at my master with my hazel eyes, and I admire the salt and pepper streaks in his black hair. I admire the handsome, noble lines of his face, and the fullness of his mouth. Right now he’s smiling at me, his expression generous and affectionate. It’s a mask, and I know it is. All vampires have to wear them when they’re old enough, and Julien’s no exception. Were he to not put any effort at all into his appearance, he’d have the intense, unfocussed, hungry stare that a few of the ancients have. But he clings to his humanity. It’s easier for him that way.
I smile back up at him, sliding my right hand to my small breast and kneading it gently even as his hands, longfingered and elegant, begin to see to my reward. His pearlescent spunk is more than enough to lubricate my cock, and he uses his right hand to stroke me slowly even as his left slips down to my buttocks. I feel two fingers slide into the emptiness there, left vacuous and wanting by his cock. It makes me squirm and arch my back, especially when he finds my prostate and rubs at it in just the way I like. My dick throbs in his hand and he strokes me harder, and I roll my head back in ecstasy.
I’m not allowed to touch myself below the waist when Julien spends time with me, so I try to keep myself busy at my chest. Those soft little mounds firm just slightly with desire, and I roll, pinch, and pull at the hard buds of my nipples. I can hear the soft rumble of his amusement, and my hazy eyes open to look up at him again.
“You’re a slut, Tammie” he purrs, stroking firmly. The man has this technique to simulate the slippery tight reluctance of anal with his hand, and I almost choke as it feels like my dick is sinking into his body, even though it isn’t.
With my voice halfcracking in extremity I stammer “I kn… know!”
“Say it, my darling.”
“I’m a slut.” I’m breathing heavier now, feeling just a little shamed and more than a little on fire because of it. My mind’s kind of a fuckedup place that he helps to set right, and things arouse me that probably shouldn’t.
“Again.” His hand sinks down thick and slow again, and I grab a pillow and wail into it.
“I’M A SLUT!” I cry into the pillow, my chest heaving and my hips shaking. He has me on fire, like I might burn to cinders any second. I can’t stand it. I have to finish!
My reward then comes as he dips his head, and after another thick, tight pass of his hand I feel my crown and shaft sink into the heat and perfection of his mouth. He knows what’s going to happen, and I know he knows. Which is why when I shoot my desperate load into his throat I merely relish it like a little slice of heaven that’s entirely mine. Even as my balls empty and I melt against the sheets, exhausted, he suckles my soft, shrinking cock to have every last drop for himself, tasting his own cum on my flushed, hairless genitals. I’m in love with the man in a surreal sort of way. I know that he adores me as his servant and his slut, but it’s not going to be a love like he has with his wife. And, oddly, I’m alright with that.
I like what we have, right now like this, and I never thought I would. Not when I was alive, anyway.
Julien spends the next seven nights in Venice, ensuring that our Adriatic connections love him just as much as they did fifty years ago. Unfortunately for the old guard vampires, the world is changing very fast. Back around the fall of the Roman empire, very little changed for centuries at a time, depending on where you’d carved a niche for yourself. One could count on isolation and local leadership and influence to keep things prosperous and safe for one’s ‘family’ indefinitely. Many vampires were sired and raised in the dark ages, a time of prosperity for the unliving. So much of the world was unknown, and it was all ours.
Yet the Renaissance came, and all the various enlightenments sprouted up around the globe. The Americas became established, sea trade opened up the entire world, and soon railroads turned a journey of weeks into days, and then hours. The world to us has felt like it’s been shrinking in size and drowning in the evergrowing swarms of the living, and so Julien knows that every so often now friendly trips need to be made, to offer assistance with learning new technologies and new maps of the nations patchworking the planet. Some vampires don’t acclimate as well as we do. They are a product of their time.
Our host in Venice is a retiring, taciturn man named Adolphus. He’s so old that he hasn’t bothered to give himself a surname. There wouldn’t be much point, really. While he’s not quite at the level of the ancients, he is one of the oldest in the night courts of this area. There’s something about Italy that attracts a lot of fledglings. Modern Italy, and especially centers like Venice, Florence, and Milan, are shiny, miraculous flames that attract a huge number of undead little moths. A phenomenon that happens with the newly turned is that many of them finally have a good bit of money at their disposal if they’ve been sired by a wealthy elder. With all this money, beauty, and power, the desire to show it off is overwhelming. Egos aren’t small in the vampire world, which is probably why I found myself in it. Being around a lot of young vampires can be refreshing up to a point, but if we aren’t wellpaired in terms of temperament, we’ll often end up competing for attention. It’s pathetic, but even I can’t help it. Remember what I said about Arianthe?
At points during the trip, I’m left in the care of Adolphus’s court. Many of the younger vampires there, turned during the second world war, are surprisingly serene and pleasant company. They’d long ago gotten over sowing their wild night oats and are content to spend time with me and enjoy the newness and knowledge I bring. Many of them have computer skills, but after I’m done with them they are far less anxious about surfing the web and maintaining their consoles. I used to think technophobes were laughable, but from their perspective, this sort of thing just sprung up in their lives overnight. It’s taught me a bit of temperance if nothing else. And being able to laugh with them while watching the brandnew fledglings fumble seductions with the living or get into feline hissy fits with each other in back alleys is a guilty pleasure. I’m glad I’m not an elder. If I had to put up with fledgling bullshit I’d just murder them all.
Chapter 2: Gibbosa Crescente
On our return trip to Julien’s mansion in the Alps, both he and I are more or less lost in thought. We’re traveling by car, chauffeured by two of his living servants. The arrangement allows for us to travel during the day while resting in the shadows at the back of the livery car. Thick shades cover the windows, and interior lighting, kept low, lets us see what we’re doing if we aren’t in a mood to sleep. A misconception about vampires is that we all more or less drop immediately into some sort of stupor when the sun rises. That’s not really the case, but we do need to sleep now and again, and since sunlight does burn our skin terribly the daytime is the most convenient time to rest.
As we travel I track our progress on my tablet, using GPS to follow our path along the highways through northern Italy. It keeps me connected to the world outside, even if I can’t really glance out the window without getting scalded. Maybe some vampires put all their faith in their servants, but I don’t. Not that Arturo and Paolo are untrustworthy. I like them both actually. But if something crazy were to happen to the car I’d at least like to know where I am. And in the vampire world, crazy things just seem to happen when you least expect it.
“Tammie, shut off the device and come here.”
My hazel eyes lift to look at Julien in the seat opposite me, and I can see that he’s brooding about something. With a soft nod I close down the tablet and put it away under the seat before moving over to sit next to him. Even though the car is climate controlled, it’s still on the warm side. I’m wearing a soft white sleeveless summer dress that flows down to my knees, and as I settle in Julien’s hand rests on my thigh and slowly pushes up my skirt.
“You know that I cherish you, don’t you?” The way he says it makes it plain that this isn’t a question, so I just nod, starting to grow nervous. His touch pets down towards my knee, and I can feel my soft cock within my white panties twitch. “I have been watching your development. You have impressed me.”
As his hand slides back towards my hips, I shiver and murmur “Thank you, Master.” I tense, my dick thickening with frustration and need as he slides his hand back towards my knee.
“There is something I’ve been considering for some time. Since the dinner party, in fact.” His touch finally slides under my skirt, and my stomach tenses as he casually gropes at my thickening bulge. “Would you like to know what that is?” he asks sweetly, knowing that I’m this close to losing it. All I can do is nod desperately, my toes curling in the upholstery on the floor, my sandals taken off as soon as the journey had begun hours ago.
His other hand helps to guide me to straddle his lap, and with the spread of my legs my skirt bunches up towards my hips. My fingers grip at his shoulders as his hand slips into my panties and begins to stroke me, getting me fully hard.
“You must promise me that you will take my consideration with respect, or I will not reveal it to you.”
His hand tightens, gripping the base of my shaft just at the point where pleasure turns into pain, making me wince. “I promise, Master!”
With a smooth chuckle he softens his grip. “Good. Now, get on your knees, Beautiful.”
It’s almost like his thighs can’t part fast enough as I slip to the car’s floor and shuffle forward, my lust burning at my skin and causing my cock to drip. He lets me unzip him and I can feel that he’s already hard. Pulling his dick out from his slacks, I can feel the warmth of it, and the scent of it is always enticing. I’ve learned how to suck him without scraping my fangs on him, using their smooth sides to massage his shaft as I suckle and swallow at his crown.
Julien’s hands take up fistfuls of my blond hair, and soon enough I’m not really in control of how my head moves. I loosen my throat and jaw and let him use me like a toy, removing my concentration from the equation to let me furiously jerk off beneath my skirt. I’m sure he can hear it, but he doesn’t scold me. I just have to we’ve both been cooped up in this car for hours without anything to do.
At last he pulls my mouth down to his tight sack and cums, his load splashing into the back of my throat without warning. I tense and remember that I don’t need to breath, and so choking isn’t really a concern. My throat works to swallow it all down and, well, to torment his already sensitive glans, and I giggle inwardly as he makes embarrassing little sounds of intense pleasure coupled with mild discomfort. I think I must have cum without realizing it, because my fingers are covered and dripping with molten spunk, and my dick is quickly softening. Julien hands me a few tissues to clean up with, and I do so as he carefully tucks himself back into his pants.
“Good girl” he purrs, and I can’t help but feel a ripple of intense satisfaction slither up my spine at the praise. My big green eyes lift up to meet his, and I wait patiently (and a bit tiredly) for what he’s going to say.
“Now, you show great promise, Tammie. You’re independent and selfassured enough to survive. And so I think you should try living outside the harem for a while.”
A pervasive, cold sweat covers my body beneath the dress (oh, I guess I can still sweat), and my guts start tying themselves in knots. “You… want me to leave, Master?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
He must see the wet glimmer in my eyes, because he pouts and pulls me up into his lap to comfort me. “You misunderstand me, my beautiful girl. Fledglings can’t stay with their masters forever.”
“But Domina is still with you! And she is your oldest!” I admit that I wail that like a child.
A stern look quiets me, and I just look down miserably at my fingers. “Domina has a job, as does Natasha. They help to train the rest of you when I’m not there. Veronica is not yet ready, not yet, and Arianthe has already moved on.” There had also been a trio of fledglings, but their poor behavior had resulted in one’s destruction and the shipping off of the other two to some miserable duke far away. We really don’t talk about them anymore. “Now it’s time for you to find your way. You have been with me for ten years.”
My pout is intense as I sniffle “It’s not been long enough.”
Julien gently kisses my temple, and murmurs “There there, now. What if I didn’t send you off entirely alone, hmm?”
I flick my eyes up at him, nibbling my lower lip.
“I’ll send Veronica to accompany you, at least until you get settled.”
Again my insides knot up. “Veronica?!” I ask, breathlessly. “But, but you can’t!”
That was the wrong thing to say, and I wilt and look down at my hands again as he frowns at me. “And why, pray tell, can’t I send her with you?”
I murmur something that’s completely unintelligible, but he grips my chin and turns my head to face him, demanding that I speak up. “B… because I’m totally in love with her and I’ll ruin all my chances and it’ll be terrible and I’ll disappoint both of you and I’m not ready for this Master!” My verbal diarrhea is just horrible when I’m stressed out. It’s seriously like IBS of the brain. I forget myself and breathe, each exhalation shaky and light, and I think that softens him a little.
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