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by AMARANTHA KNIGHT
From a review in Divinity:"Well-written and imaginative, Amarantha Knight gives fresh impetus to this myth, taking us through the sexual and sadistic scenes with details that keep us reading.... This author shows superb control. A classic in itself has been added to the shelves." From a review in Redemption:"A wonderfully written adaptation of the classic cult figure. Delectable indeed." From a review in Skin Two #43:"With everything in here from pony-play to enforced feminization, it should make you all very happy little bunnies." *****
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Excerpt from Chapter Two Magda often reflected on how two centuries had crawled by, and yet there seemed less time. Existence without sunshine became a bane. Ennui set in. The countryside changed and food was no longer plentiful. The hungers Vlad had bequeathed controlled her and therefore left Magda on the edge of being out of control. Tense. Angry. Eager to lash out, particularly at him. For a long time now he had seemed obsessed with plans for the future, and with others, leaving her to spend nights alone, or with the rough peasant boys stinking of fruit brandy and cigarettes, or with the sisters. Silently she blamed him for her state, and resented his preoccupations. And then he invited the Englishman to their home. "I am Dracula," she heard him say seductively. "Welcome to my house," adding words like "enter freely" and "of your own will." "Is he now part of the household?" she demanded later, hissing the words at him. But Vlad let it pass, something he would not have done even one hundred years ago. Then he would have nipped her impertinence on the spot. His inattention wounded her; she hated him. She also felt invaded. Until she was introduced to the Englishman. He was soft, so unlike the Wallachians. Blond curly hair. Smooth pink-tinged skin that bred fantasies of blood rushing to the surface at her command. He kissed her hand and met her eye with innocence, not with the dominance that clouded the eyes of the locals, the result of struggling against a harsh mountainous terrain. This Brit smelled fine and wore tight clothing. His finger nails were clean and trimmed. She saw the picture of his wife, Mina: a serious-eyed well-scrubbed girl who would never fulfil his dark longings, for Magda recognized the desire to surrender burning in his blue eyes. Mr. Harker was his name. Jonathan. Vlad spent that first evening with this young man. In the study discussing the intimacies of life in England. In the great dining hall, carefully watching him eat and drink. In the bedroom. And then it was evening again. Jonathan defied Vlad`s warning: "You may go anywhere you wish in the castle, except where the doors are locked, where of course you will not wish to go. Did you see with my eyes and know with my knowledge, you would perhaps better understand." The Englishman wandered the ancient halls alone, looking, no doubt, for trouble. He found it. Magda got to him first, but the others were on her heels. As he entered the candle-lit room in the tower, his eyes bulged. Apparatus dating from as far back as the early Middle Ages filled half the circular space. A rack, an Iron Maiden, a pillory and whipping post, a wheel and half a dozen other instruments of torture. Along the stone walls hung an assortment of hooks, chains and pulleys, interspersed with well-cared-for tools--paddles, canes and whips of every description, clips, and needles for piercing and stinging rods of several varieties. Vlad`s collection spanned six hundred years and reflected many cultures. Jonathan looked startled then delighted when he saw the three females, dressed for the night. His cherry lips parted and a childlike look spread across his immaculate features. Instinctively, he focused on Magda; she knew her red hair, emerald eyes and full breasts captivated him; gypsy blood made her voluptuous compared to his emaciated Mina, lascivious, rather than properly veneered for polite society. A sly look spread across his delicate features and she did not miss the bulge forming at his crotch; he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and anticipated both the cookies and the consequences. The other two would have overwhelmed him, but Magda cut them with a glance. The fleshy one said fearfully, bitter with disappointment, "Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to begin." She recognized her place. "He is young and strong, there are kisses for us all," the thin one said, an insolent edge to her tone that Magda would see to later. "In turn," Magda informed them, feeling inexplicably generous. She removed a long-handled oval wooden paddle from the wall. "Come to me," she teased, opening her arms to Jonathan. He moved stiffly at first, but as his anticipation grew, his steps quickened. She removed his great coat and his collar and tie. The buttons on his white shirt slid easily through the buttonholes and she yanked the crisp linen down his arms, trapping them. "I have never known an Englishman," she murmured, and his cock swelled further. Magda ran a hand over the warm skin, through the scattering of silky chest hairs. She found a blue vein trailing up over his breast to the throat. She traced it with her finger tip and let her finger rest there in a proprietary way. The throb echoed throughout her body, into her genitals, then back through her stomach, which contracted with hunger and lust. "Mr. Harker, you`ve been a bad boy," she whispered. His body twitched, and the others giggled. He was tall and she forced his face down to her breasts, her crimson nipples swelling over the low-cut gossamer gown. "Do they punish bad boys in England?" He nodded. The sisters laughed hysterically. "We Transylvanians know how to punish bad boys. Severely." The vein called to her, promising warm carnal sensation. The others moved closer and stripped Jonathan of his trousers. His slender body was firm, but there was a softness to him that wanted attention. The thin sister moved a hand to his hairy crotch and the fleshy one rubbed herself against one cheek of his hairless behind. Magda slapped his exposed ass cheek six times with the paddle until it quivered. She could imagine the stinging flesh redden and that excited her. Jonathan`s lips found one of Magda`s nipples. He took it between his teeth and whipped it with his tongue, then sucked hard. Her head fell back and her hand automatically raised and lowered the paddle onto his bare ass. He moaned and writhed against the wall of flesh imprisoning him. The vein under Magda`s finger pumped harder. His skin heated up and sweat seeped from the pores. Jonathan`s hands clawed at her satin skirt, lifting it so he could caress her chilled hips, thighs, her well-rounded buttock. He slid a finger down the crack in her ass until it reached her anus and stopped. She shivered in anticipation. The thin sister guided his other hand to her own mound. He tapped both the pink hole and the pink bud quickly. The plump sister rubbed her crotch against his leg in time. Magda paddled him fast and hard and he groaned, sweat beading across his forehead. "Lower!" she ordered. He spread his legs wide on command until his thick cock nestled beneath her. The thin sister stroked his shaft from tip to base, guiding him towards Magda`s hungry lower mouth. Magda felt the vein struggling to burst the skin in search of her teeth, eager to meet their destiny. She moistened her lips and lowered them to his neck. Under the soft flesh of her mouth, the vein jumped happily. The head of Jonathan`s cock entered her and her cunt caressed it. The points of her incisors found the vein. It throbbed against their sharpness, eager to be pierced. She worked the paddle in time to the throbbing, against his one cheek only. His body trembled under the combined strain. "Stand erect!" she commanded. His straightened and his cock plunged up into her, lifting her off the floor, filling her with hot flesh. Suddenly everything changed. The temperature plummeted. The air reeked with seething anger. A roar pierced her ears. "How dare you touch him, any of you? This man belongs to me! Back, I tell you, or you`ll have to deal with me!" Vlad shouted. ... |
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Titles in The Darker Passions
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