Blood Lust Sneak Peek

P R O L O G U E

Solei

Most would scream. 

Or try to get away. 

But I didn’t. At free-will, I cocked my head to the side, welcoming him.

It took me a while to get to this point, and honestly, I never thought I would get here. In the beginning, I was petrified. In the beginning, I screamed. I cried. When I could at least. When I wasn’t stuck, captivated by his allure.  In the beginning, my days and my nights were spent crying. Uncontrollably. Every single thought was of home. Now, my thoughts scared me. The way I thought about him made me uncomfortable. I welcomed him. I anticipated his presence. I looked forward to him coming for me. And when he didn’t pick me, I was upset and jealous. It was sick. I just… I just wanted to feel like more than what I really was. To him at least. I wanted to be desired. In some kind of fashion.

He was softer now, with just the right amount of evil around the edges. The type of evil that turned me on and terrified me at once. Arousal. A feeling that I thought would never be associated with what he did to me. What he did to me was the only thing that really made me feel alive, honestly. While he slowly sucked the life out of me, I felt most alive.

He grabbed hold of both my C-cup breasts as he placed his head in the crook of my neck, tickling my skin with the roughness of his thick, unruly beard. First, he inhaled, basking in the scent of me. I didn’t wear perfume. I used to. In my past life. Before I was forced to live here, in the dungeon. I used to wear Marc Jacob’s Daisy. It was my favorite. Now the only scent on me was that of my personal scent. The one that belonged only to me. One that couldn’t be bottled up and sold at Macy’s. One that he absolutely loved. My pheromones. I was sure that if he could bottle it up, he would spray just a little bit of it on his top lip, to carry around with him all day. 

That’s just how obsessed he was with it. 

By his second whiff, his long, thick dick was rock hard, pressing up against my naked body. I closed my eyes, as my breathing grew heavy, and waited. And then it happened. He sunk his teeth into the thin flesh of my neck. At first, at initial impact, it hurt. I couldn’t quite describe the feeling, but it was similar to the feel of a needle pricking your skin. Except… the needle is thicker, sharper, and penetrating your skin with much more force. The pain radiated through my whole body. When he felt me tense up, he caressed my skin and began to lightly suck.

He didn’t want to hurt me.

But he had to. He would never verbalize that, but actions had always spoken louder than words with me. He was different now. Different from the way he was in the beginning. His eyes didn’t hold as much anger. His eye contact wasn’t so… demonic. He had softened.

Not a lot, just an itty-bitty bit. Enough for me to notice.

He could have done this with anyone.

But right now, he wanted to do it with me.

I was the chosen one. And for so long, I hated it. I didn’t want to be the chosen one. I wanted to blend in. Sadly, I stuck out like a sore thumb for reasons I had yet to discover. In a room full of naked, beautiful women, he wanted me. I tried to hide. I went into the darkest corner of the room. I scurried away from the door whenever I heard him coming. But he always… I mean always found me. 

Then, he handled me the same way he handled the others.

Rough. With no compassion. 

Now, he treated me like fine art. Now, he treated me like his most prized possession. And I often made the mistake of thinking that I was. In the back of my mind, I knew that I was nothing more than a meal to him. My captor. The man with no name. A monster. A bloodsucking vampire. Who knew they actually existed?

The scary stories I heard growing up, about the blood thirsty demonic creature called a Vampire had some truth in it. But he was more than just a blood thirsty demon. A least, that’s what I often told myself. I was out of my mind. I had to be. But then again, I was just adapting. Crying every day, wishing, hoping and praying that one day I’d be able to go home was draining. Wishing that one day I’d be able to grace the stage and entertain with the elegance of my dancing, was draining.

What I missed more than my family was dance. I missed gliding across the stage with hundreds of people watching me. I missed the feeling I got right before I went on. I missed it so much. I had been stripped of everything that made me, Solei. He had stripped me of everything that made me who I am. I no longer had that twinkle of happiness in my eye. I no longer had that spark that made me who I am. I was just… a shell of who I used to be. A meal. 

In one swift stroke, his thickness found the wetness of my pussy. I was wet. Aroused because I was eagerly anticipating the way he made me feel. Like I said, it was in these moments that I felt alive. When he entered me, giving me deep, long strokes, mercilessly jabbing at my sensitive G-spot. Relentlessly inflicting both passion and pain at once. Creating a thin line between the two which blurred so much to a point where it was hard to distinguish between the two.  To a point where pain no longer existed. To a point where the pain was no more, but yet, tears streamed down my face, slowly rolling over my plump brown cheeks, seeping into my lightly parted lips, leaving that salty taste. The taste of despair. The taste of passion. The taste of pain. Tears caused by him. Tears that were a constant reminder of who I wasn’t. A constant reminder what I was.

His property.

This pussy?

His. 

The blood in my veins?

His too. 

He owned me, and he had no problem reminding me of that fact, neither. He sucked harder on my neck, making me close my eyes. With my eyes closed, I escaped just a little bit. No, I didn’t. I tried to. I needed a distraction from how good this felt. I needed to be distracted from the truth.

That I liked it.

No, I didn’t.

I loved it. I loved it so much that how good he felt was the only thing I could think about. Often times, I found myself silently begging him not to stop. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted him buried so deep inside of me that his balls kissed the wetness of my pussy. I wanted him to consume me. I was addicted to the way that he made me feel. In this moment, it wasn’t about how alive I felt. It was the passion. It was the orgasmic rush I felt every single time his dick entered me. 

His big, black, rock hard dick.

I didn’t care about how cold it was neither. My pussy always heated things up. I wondered how the warmth of my vagina felt hugging the coldness of his dick. Was it satisfying? It had to be. The way he grunted whenever he slid into me, told me so. The way he sucked harder and licked the side of my neck, told me so too. 

He liked it.

He loved it.

He was just as addicted to the way that I made him feel, as I was addicted to him.

He wanted to consume me.

He was consuming me.

Except, he wanted to consume all of me.

He’s come close. He took me to a point where there was almost no return.

He nearly bled me dry. And in that moment, I wanted him to. I wanted to become what he was. I wanted to spend an eternity with him if it meant getting dicked like this forever. I wanted forever with him. Whenever he entered me, I got lost in my thoughts. I obsessed over the possibilities. It was when he dick was inside of me that I didn’t feel shame. When he slid out of me and tossed me aside like I was nothing, is when I’d feel like nothing. It is when despair sat in and I was disgusted with myself for feeling the way that he made me feel. 

But now… now, I bask in the present. I enjoy the unholy things he’s doing to me. He gave me deep, long strokes. His dick had to be around ten inches long, and thick enough to uncomfortably stretch my walls every time he penetrated me. After all of the times he’s entered me, it was still uncomfortable, until it was comfortable. Comfortable enough to cream on. Comfortable enough to gravitate my hips, matching the rhythm of his powerful, forceful strokes. 

That is… Until he pulled away and used me in other ways. 

He slid out of me, leaving me chained with my arms above my head, arms and legs in the shape of an X. I was unable to move. I was vulnerable and at his mercy. Naked, exposed, and… weak. A word that had never really been able to describe me before. Before I was forced to be his slave. Before I was stripped of every piece of dignity that I owned. Before I was brought here. To the Dungeon.

I wasn’t even sure of where I was. The Dungeon didn’t have any windows. The Dungeon was the only place I’d been for only God knows how long. The sun hadn’t kissed my skin and I hadn’t felt the coolness of the wind on my face neither. Was the sun still out? Was it still summer? Or had fall settled in? I was out of touch with everything but these moments.

It is with him that I felt alive… even though every time I was with him, I was knocking on deaths door. Still… I felt alive. 

He stood in front of me, glaring at me with those dark eyes. Eyes that were a true reflection of nothing. He didn’t have a soul. I felt nothing but fear when we locked eyes. He was just as cold as his skin. He walked around me, and I could feel his eyes on me. Every time he did this, fear consumed me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Put it back.

Slide back in.

I wanted to be consumed with something other than fear.

I wanted to be consumed with passion.

I wanted to be consumed with ecstasy. 

Please? 

I couldn’t talk to him. He wanted silence. I couldn’t speak unless he gave me permission to, and he hadn’t. He never did. I was here for one thing and one thing only. To please him… to fulfill the aggressive appetite he had for me.

I glanced over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of him, but that was against the rules, apparently because before I could ready myself for it, the whip came in contact with my skin. I jolted forward in excruciating pain, unable to escape his abuse. 

I cried out and tossed my head back. Blood from the gashes he left, slid down my neck, in between my breasts, resting on my heaving chest. In lightning speed, he was in front of me. He grabbed my chin and pushed my head back, gripping with force, digging his short nails into my skin. He ran his thick, wet tongue down the middle of my chest, catching the trail of blood that had landed there. He grunted, and wrapped his free arm around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me tighter. He then tugged on my protruding nipple with his teeth. 

I moaned and he looked up at me, with furrowed brows and a scowl so deep that his face was contoured in a way that made him look like a true animal indeed. With his dark skin, muscular build, tightly coiled hair, and thick beard, he gave off a strong animalist vibe. He was scary, but he possessed this sexiness that was hard to deny.  

He broke our eye contact and placed his head in the crook of my neck. He never got full. He would take all of me if he wasn’t so greedy. He wanted to save me for later, so he took his time. He always took his time with me. I had seen so many come and go, but yet… I stayed.

He sucked harder and my eyelids grew heavy.

Although it was against the rules, I spoke. 

“Have all of me,” I whispered, as life began to slip away.  He didn’t say anything.

He sucked harder… and harder… drinking more of me until I grew too weak to keep my eyes open. Darkness consumed me.

Finally, I could be free.