Vampyre Erotica

She paced around the room, watching him, monitoring his heart. It was loud, and very fast, and she could smell the adrenaline rushing through the network of veins under his skin. His breathing was short and sharp, but not panicky, and he didn’t move.

Considering he was hanging by his wrists in the middle of a pitch black basement, he wasn’t nearly scared enough.

She stepped silently towards him, watching him strain to notice her, notice where she was. His head jerked up, but he focused on the wrong spot of the room. She dashed forward and ripped his shirt off as she passed him, grazing him with her claws. He hissed as he felt them puncture his skin, but that was all. No shriek as she had expected, which was more than a little disappointing.

Again she circled him, watching him try to see through gloom so thick it would leave a cat blind. He swung around to face the opposite wall, and she ran forward again. This time the marks were from both tooth and nail as she ripped at his back while tearing at his shoulder. He stiffened and arched his back, but still the scream wasn’t forthcoming; instead, he moaned.

She stepped back with his blood filling her mouth and cocked her head, irritation making its way into her mind. She stood in front of him and very slowly and deliberately gave him four new scars down his chest. Again, the moan, and this time she could smell something new in his sweat.

She threw herself away from him, confused and disgusted; they weren’t supposed to enjoy it. Still, his blood was nice, and she could hear it dripping onto the floor, smell the wet coppery tang. An idea crossed her head and she grinned.

Sauntering back over to him, she lapped up a mouthful from the wound in his shoulder, and flicked her bloody tongue over his lips. She watched closely. Sure enough, out came his own tongue to taste himself. He sighed shakily and whispered:

“Please…”

She obliged him. Viciously.