“I wish to join you there,” you repeat. You’re trying to sound firm and commanding, a lady to her knight, but you’re afraid it sounds like the weak plea of a peasant girl.
Nevertheless, Gwen smiles. “Very well,” she says, taking you by the hand and leading you into the next room.
It’s small, as she said; a simple stone box with a sarcophagus in the centre. On the sarcophagus lid is a raise carving of Gwen, lying in state, holding a sword. It is the same style of carving you’d find on any knight’s tomb, but you’re surprised to see that, rather than wearing her armour, the stone Gwen seems beautifully naked, the sword’s hilt resting just under her breasts. The detail is exquisite, and you wonder if it was carved from life. Or ‘life’, given that she’s undead.
But you are quickly distracted by the real thing. With her back to you, Gwen lifts the chemise over her head.
“Since I don’t feel the cold, I’ve got into the habit of sleeping like this,” she says coyly, tossing the garment away. “I hope you don’t mind.”
You barely take in her words, staring at her smooth back and tight buttocks. She turns, and you almost swoon at the sight of her perfect nakedness.
Stepping forwards, she quickly undresses you, and slides her fingers between your legs. She holds them up, and smiles at the wetness on them. Then she kisses you, a long, lingering kiss that makes your heart race. Her skin is cold, but soft and smooth as silk, and you have enough heat for the both of you.
You break the kiss, backing away and sprawling across the sarcophagus. Gwen clambers on top of you and kisses you again. The statue’s stone nipples press into your back, and Gwen’s are hardly softer as they rub against you. Her hips press against yours, her neatly trimmed strip of black pubic hair pressing against your own golden bush. Your body’s still tender from the treatment you received from the zombies, but the occasional twinge just adds spice to the experience.
She moves lower, her tongue and hands toying with your breasts. You close your eyes ecstatically as she moves down across your flat stomach. Kneeling on the floor, her head between your wide-spread legs, she licks your pussy once, teasingly, and then pauses.
Wondering what she’s waiting for, you open your eyes again and look down. You see her mouth open wide, fangs extended.
Catching your look, and realising you weren’t expecting to bite you there, she smiles. “The area I feed from becomes very sensitive. Men don’t care, but among us girls I’ve learned to appreciate the effect of a bit on a breast – or a more intimate area.”
You realise you want her to do it. You want it so much you can barely think – so much that it scares you. In a moment of clarity you wonder at that. Vampires have powers over the human mind – is she using them? Is the overwhelming lust you feel for her real, or just a tool she’s using to make you her slave or her prey? |