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Of Desire

As Day Fades

As Day Fades

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Feb 7, 2009
His body couldn't help the literal shudder that came over it as his cold fingers brushed aside the heavy fabric that hung down from above, acting as a makeshift dressing room door. His body felt a shudder course through it, and when he brushed that multi-colored, multi-layered gypsy cloth of a doorway, when he caught first glimpse of the young woman's pale shoulders and back, knowing what he was about to do...there were butterflies.

Butterflies! It had been at least four decades now since something had excited him so.

It was a shame, really, when one considered the soon-to-be context.


"She is the one I want," Konstantin said calmly, his eyes icy, his face stoic and sleek. All of his body was, really, shoulders standing tall yet relaxed. He was standing upon grass, as all the floor here was of the earth, beneath the spires of a fairly-sized circus tent. Stretching across all of Russia by the year 1854 were a great number of traveling acts such as this, yet few were as heard of as Cirque de Fichu; and, as word had it, it was largely thanks to a single, lovely bird that soared de Fichu above the rest. A young acrobat, he had watched her solo performance for the first time six days ago, wholly enthralled. His head had tilted slightly to a side. His eyes had been caught in a gaze. Pale skin performed before him, mixing acrobatics and dance, mixing sensuality and innocence, and before even that talent, before that intoxicating style came a beauty of the like for which men died in throngs so that some king might make his claim.

Somewhere amidst that first performance, Konstantin understood that he must have her.

He had introduced himself to the ringmaster immediately after, foregoing the rest of the entertainment to come to the man privately, offering what in no way was a paltry sum. This bird, however, seemed without a price; though the man made sure it was known everything else before this tall, dark stranger's eyes was for sale, right down to his very own hat. It had been an excited conversation, considering the amount of coin flashed, and when that proved not enough, even more spoken of. It had been an exciting conversation, yet the man had refused to change his stance. When Konstantin returned the next day, that larger, spoken of sum in hand, still there was no relent. The third found a certain amount of waver in the lanky ringmaster's decision, but not enough. With each new evening he had returned to find himself entranced all over again while the young woman performed. Finally, on the sixth day, the offer had risen enough that it seemed she truly might never be his.


So there he was. It was the sixth evening and his dove had returned to her dressing room following her performance, which consisted of a vanity, a couch with several silks and scarves draped over one arm, likely from her changing, and beside that a large open crate of more decorative clothing. As he entered, footsteps upon the grass, letting the fabrics that comprised the door to fall back into place behind him, Konstantin's movements were delicately silent. This much came natural to him, when he wished it. It was one of the perks of being what he was.

He was only minutes removed from speaking to the ringmaster, offering a sixth time his generous coin, and for the sixth time being offered everything else the man could think to sell him, though finding none of it appealing. That ringmaster was out on the stage again right now - he could hear him and the crowd easily through the temporary walls of the expansive circus tent - and shortly following that final conversation, Konstantin regrettably understood what he must do.

She looked so delicate, like a flower. Milky-white skin. A face both innocent and alluring. Gorgeous locks of flowing hair. A body that was a gift to whomever might hold it close. As Konstantin slowly approached her from behind he didn't make a sound; if he had, there was a question of whether or not it would be heard anyway over the background. He watched her sitting there in front of the large vanity mirror. He watched her, and as he approached her from behind, there was no reflection of him within that mirror...only her calm innocence. Only her unsuspecting face.

Then, two hands. They could not be seen in the reflection even now, but her reaction surely would - without warning they encased either side of her neck within their grasp, fingers wrapping around her throat, where their cold grip began to strangle his dove, his Anastaysia.

"My name is Konstantin Alexey Corvin," he said simply, watching her body's every reaction in the mirror. "I am going to kill you, now."
 
Anastaysia had been with Cirque de Fichu for as long as she could remember, and she had been protected by them for just as long. Where most came to the circus to see the freaks, the ugly divine and the unaccepted, they came to this particular cirque for all the same reasons but with one exception. The beautiful bird they held caged and yet unchained. Anastaysia was a woman of great appeal, she possessed an enchanting beauty that brought in the most unexpected of clientel. Gregori, the Ring Leader, did everything he possibly could to keep Anastaysia under his control. Many a men, in the dealing of bodies and women had tried to purchase her, and again and again he had traded off women of lesser beauty, belongings of lesser worth, or run them off entirely..

Though she was partially aware of the going ons involving her name, she tried to ignore them, she had faith in the people she called family, she had faith in the Cirque that was her home. That was until tonight. A man had come to their show repeatedly for the past 6 days. She had often over heard him speaking with the Ring Leader about purchasing her, it was a bit upsetting that someone could be so persistent, so uncaring of others that they wished only to please themselves. She could not be bought, that she was certain of.. or at least she had hoped. The show had been performed as scheduled, and after which she had retreated to her makeshift room. With a soft sigh she discarded the brilliant colored silks that clothed her and draped them over the arm of the couch. She slid into a simple silk slip, and seated herself at the vanity, coursing her fingers through long copper curls. A soft sigh escaping her once more as she looked at herself in the mirror.

The days had seemed to drag on, this was their busiest time of year, but they had to keep pushing, they needed the funds to continue.. to survive. She shivered once, as if a sudden cold had entered the room, and without a second though she had reached for the brush only to be caught off guard by the sudden sensation of hands upon her neck. She froze. Her eyes staring at the mirror but seeing nothing, no one. She could feel him, hear him as he spoke. That name ringing in her ears. She'd heard it before, she'd heard it plenty but never thought it true. She'd been illusioned by the false reality she had been living. She had been poisoned by the belief that nothing could happen to her. She trembled. Her body trembled. Lip quivered and she stared at her scared reflection, her voice, despite the look upon her face, was soft.. sweet and not in the least bit scared. "Why?" She asked softly, concerned, confused at most.

What had she done to deserve death? She rested her hands upon the vanity, the thought of doing something stupid crossed her mind, and though part of her believed she was dreaming, part of her also knew that this was indeed, no simple dream. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do to stop this. Nothing.
 
The hands upon her neck were indeed real. Real was their cool touch. Real was their pale skin. There was perhaps no reflection of them in the mirror, nor were there anything of him at all. But, perhaps that heightened the mood? Perhaps that made it even eerier. That was hers to decide, though. For him, watching her body and her face react to seemingly nothing in her reflection...it was alluring, in its dismal artistry.

There was something about how his copper-haired goddess trembled that caused the darker-haired man to do so in turn, though for a very different reason. She was beautiful, here. So feminine. So fragile...he felt like he could snap the very neck he held, if he wished it. Part of Konstantin had hoped for a struggle of sorts, to bear witness to her dying throes; he had wondered these past two nights if they would be as enchanting as her other performances. This...perhaps it did not disappoint him, but it did interest him in an unexpected way, seeing her not even put up a fight. Scared, yes, hence the tremble, but no writhing, no scratching... When she would try for a breath she would find herself unable, those powerful hands wrapped around her throat firm. It surprised him, yes, but in a sense, shouldn't all good art?

"You deserve to know," he replied after a time, blue eyes staring at the reflection of hers of green. "It is because I cannot have you, Anastaysia. Therefor, you must die." It never let up, his grip. In time the skin would bear a terrible bruise. For now, he could see her terrified tremble shift in its energy. He could see a slight discoloration begin in her face. "You are...exquisite, and in using that word I ask your forgiveness, for it does not do your beauty justice - however, I know no better one to use. Yours is a beauty I have not seen in a very long time, and I regret that I did not kill the last one when I should have... She was fantastic, you see," he smiled, very slightly, and only from the left edge of his lips, thinking back briefly. How long had it been now? "Captivated, I sought her, but I could not have her. Artists strive to create such a masterpiece as her, you see...as you...yet in my desire for her, though I could not have her, I let her live so that I might observe her still."

He let her go, then, suddenly, releasing her from his grip.

"But I then watched her decline, watched her fade from what I knew her as...as all of you do." A hand slipped into those long, copper curls. "I watched her beauty leave her, and I watched her sully herself with her vices over the years...you, I will not make that mistake with." Gripping that hair with a fist, Konstantin stepped to the side and jerked her back, hard. He pulled her backward, the chair with her, sending Anastaysia falling hard onto the grass. "You, I have sought, but have also been denied." The moment she was on the ground he was there with her, one hand still in her hair, the other back around her throat; she'd been given a brief reprieve for breath, but now that was over. "You, my darling...my lovely bird...if I am to truly appreciate you, I must end you while you are still nothing but wonderful to me."
 
Ana trembled, her lungs aching, screaming, begging for air as his hands gripped around her neck. Though she did not move, but for the trembling, she did not claw nor scratch, nor bite. What good would it do her? She could have struggled, only to suffer more than she was now, to be faced with more pain than she felt in her aching chest at this moment. He spoke, so tentively, so passionately about another woman, perhaps a hint of regret in his words, but a longing desire ever present. She oddly enough felt sorry for him. Though how far even that went she was uncertain, she let her eyes open and those frightened, yet still compassionate green eyes stared at the reflection in the mirror, all she could see was herself, and the ever darkening bruise that was forming about her throat. Moments later he released her throat, and she managed to gasp a deep breath, it hurt her to inhale... but her lungs expanded and she felt a great reprieve.

That reprieve was quickly shattered and she found herself on the grass, a fist in her hair and her eyes met with those of possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Lips parted as if she would speak only to be met with that grip of death once more. Her body shuddered and she began to ache again. Her lungs striving to hold on to what air she had managed to breath while the world around her began to grow hazey and his words no longer quite so clear. This time however she did reach, her hand lightly gripping at his wrist. He felt so cold, as if he was death... was that it? Was that why she could not see him in the mirror? He was death? Worried eyes watched him for a moment, before finally life eluded her, and the world went first to a dull, unfocused vision and then to nothing but black. The loud echo of her fading pulse pounded in her head, till at last there was nothing.

No more ache for breath, no more pain, nor fear, nor worry. No more thought or sound. Silence, calm, sweet and embracing. The cold now more numb than piercing, and the body limp, still warm with fading life. She slumped against the grass with his hand in her hair and the other about her neck, her fingertips lightly grazing over his wrist as her grasp released and she no longer gripped him. The humming of the world now nothing and in silence she laid. A dead beauty, no longer aware of the world, nor what awaited her in this sudden, unexpected death.

"Anastaysia?" A womans voice called from outside the room, "Anastaysia, are you ready yet?" The tone of frustration evident in the womans pitch as she waited outside the makeshift door, and just as her hand reached to draw back the silk curtains and peek in on the pampered princess, a deeper voice caught her attention and pulled her away from the shocking discovery she had just come so close to making.
 
There was something disturbingly interesting about watching the dying throes of a living being. This was not a rabbit set upon by a hunter, nor some timid fawn twitching in the grass as a much more powerful beast ravaged its body - though, the similarities were undeniable. Konstantin stared into his lovely Anastaysia's green eyes, into a set of beautiful emerald orbs, enraptured by the simplest of twitches in her face. He felt her body tremble and shift slightly in the grass. He imagined her legs kicking out, and even felt her hand on his at one point, over her throat, but his eyes were only on hers, gazing coolly into them until at last they were open, but they no longer brought her sight. He held fast to her throat until the gurgled, strained sound ceased from between her lips. Until the hand clutching at his went weak, and soon fell entirely. Until the all of her fell limp, and not even her pulse could be felt beating against his palm.

Suddenly, a voice caught him - to the right he quickly glanced, toward her dressing room door, those several layers of thick, colored scarves dripping with tassels and beads. Konstantin's body was excited, as much as as one such as he could be, but that was largely due to the girl laid out before him. This new voice...it caught his attention, and his muscles were ready to leap into action, should someone be so unlucky as to join. Would he kill a second? Would he simply pass by her, on his way out? As the adrenaline pumped through him he quickly wondered, not entirely sure himself. But, after a few long seconds it seemed that curious voice had stepped away, and again it was the two of them, alone.

...Alone.

Now, he really was. Again.

Icy blue eyes looked back down to her. Konstantin's grip finally left the girl's throat, leaving a fresh bruise in its wake, one that would grow several fold likely before her body finally went cold. His fingers reached up to caress her, a touch now that was only soft. They caressed along her jaw, starting at Anastaysia's chin and trailing gradually up until finding her left ear. Copper curls were brushed back behind it as his touch encircled that pale ear, pale as the rest of her seemed to naturally be. It was a lone finger touching her now as it traced below the underside, coming then over her jaw, onto her cheek, where the rest of his fingers rejoined, dropping around and beneath her jaw while his palm now held her cheek, his thumb gently moving upon it.

"So beautiful," he mused, barely above a whisper. Her eyes were still open, staring at nothing. His stared down at hers, losing themselves in her emerald pools. "It is a shame, but I...I hope you understand." Konstantin's right hand left the left side of Anastaysia's face, this time running it through her hair. His hand smoothed over her bed of curls from the top, caressing over them from the back of her head, moving again behind her ear. "I do not know you well, but...in my eyes, you are perfect." Coming down behind her ear, following that hair to her shoulder, his fingers came back to her chin. "In that perfection, you would surely understand." Two fingers crooked beneath it, tilting her chin up just slightly with his touch as he leaned down, his own eyes falling closed, pressing his lips to hers.

He exhaled against her mouth right before touching, and as they kissed, he felt a delightful chill course through him. Her body was limp, but warm as he kissed her a second time, his hand leaving her chin to encompass her cheek, jaw, and the side of her neck in its whole again. His free hand had left her hair some time ago, now spread out on the grass beside the right of her head, with he leaning upon it while he remained descended, kissing her with increasing fervor. It had started as a soft, affectionate peck...it had started with the thought of bidding her goodbye, but as he kissed her, as he felt those soft, supple lips again and again, Konstantin's body shivered with excitement. Excitement! It had been ages, and even as she lay here in death, she was more glorious to him than any living thing!

He couldn't have her in life, but laying there, in her death... "I need you," he breathed hotly between kisses, "at least once."

The next kiss found his tongue pushing between her lips, finding hers, tasting hers, swirling passionately around it. In that fit of passion his decision was made, and, in that fit of passion his hand left her face, falling to grasp at the neckline of her slip, where it tore the silken, lavender-colored fabric as if it were nothing. He tore it first as far down as her smooth, firm belly, exposing to him a pair of pale, supple mounds, vastly generous in size, that jiggled sensuously from the sharp movement. A fire overtaking him, Konstantin's hand moved to cup Anastaysia's left breast, enveloping it in his palm as it threatened to spill out around his fingers. His lips fell to it with decided eagerness, kissing, wrapping his mouth around her nipple and tasting of it with hunger. She was so soft. She was so supple. Wonderful as she was, it was the other way around - perfection strove to be good enough to describe her.

He could have spent several minutes there, sucking, appreciating her bosom, as easily as he could have spent the next several hours. Somewhere in the back of his mind he mused that it would take no less than an entire day to properly worship every facet of her beauty in the way each specifically deserved. But, overwhelmed with the all of her at once, Konstantin was quick to move on. A second grasp of her lavender, silken slip saw a second sharp tear, and this one found its way to the hem, separating the thin clothing right down its center. This brought another bounce of her bountiful bosom, which bode him back for another squeeze, and another taste, this with his tongue swirling around her pert, pink nipple before he sucked upon it a second time.

Again it was brief, as there was just too much, too many things he wanted to taste, to feel, to experience of her, all at once. His hand in the grass moved down until it was beside her hip, matched now with his second hand on the other side of her body, with Konstantin's own descending over her. His lips kissed a trail across still-warm flesh, from her nipple, sucking it as he lifted away until it popped from his lips with another jiggle, to then kiss her areola, to then kiss the underside of her left breast. To then kiss the skin over her ribcage, and soon after that, her belly, each touch bringing him more to the center of her form. She was just the right mixture of soft, as a woman should be, and athletically tone, even on such a spot of her as this. But he could not remain here appreciating her belly forever, as there was still her thighs, her backside, her back, her shoulders...endless things to appreciate, all in due time.

That is, if he would ever even get that far. Next, below her belly, below her hips, was a pair of lavender, silky panties, just the same as her slip. And, just the same as her slip, her aggressor snatched the slim left side in his right hand, jerking and tearing right through. This brought another brief bounce to her, but he was far too enraptured by where he was at the moment, his body lowered so that it practically lay in the grass beneath her now, hands falling so that he now rested on both shoulders. With his heart racing, he pulled the fabric of her panties aside, it torn from her left thigh and hip, still attached around her right, revealing the beauty of her vagina to his ice-blue eyes.

"..." was his response. Staring. Gazing. Taking in her scent. She was as beautiful here as she was anywhere else. Konstantin's eyes drifted closed as he leaned in, planting a kiss even here, upon her smooth, hairless lips.

"I must have you," he whispered, kissing again to those warm, bald folds. What came next was not as sensual as his descent, but with no less emotion to it - simply of a different sort. His hands pushed up to a kneel in the grass, his knees between her own. By this point he was straining heavily against the leathery black fabric encasing his crotch. The loose, black ruffled shirt could stay, as could most of his pants, for he would not sacrifice the time it took to be rid of them - he would not sacrifice even a moment longer. Staring down at her body, eyes darting from her hairless vagina to her supple mounds, from her ample breasts to her flawless face, from her gorgeous features to her smooth, flat belly...he had to have her, and now. A pair of hands tugged open the front of his belt, a large, circular, golden buckle that gave way to strings making up the front of his smooth leather pants. These too were quickly done away with, untying, loosening, doing just enough so that he could push the tight fabric off his hips, halfway over his backside, to then pull the source of his lust free.

Or perhaps she could be claimed as the source. ...It mattered not. "My Anastaysia," he breathed, eyes once again locked with hers. "My darling...my dove. My beautiful." His hands cupped under the back of her thighs and started to lift. Never once breaking his gaze with her emerald pools, he pushed her legs upward, lifting them until her knees pressed into those generous breasts, and the even further, smoothing along the backs of her legs to her calves, bringing her legs up to either side of her head - for an acrobat, a position of no true difficulty, even now, in death. Her clothes were still on, in a sense, but lay mostly upon the grass now, much as she. His strong, lusting body descended over her again now, knees tucking below her backside, shoulders near her calves, and, most excitedly, the pulsating tip of his loins pressing against her smooth petals, he already fully aroused and glistening with excitement.

"Dearest Ana, if I cannot have you in life," he cooed, staring into her colorful, albeit lifeless eyes, "then, perhaps...at least in death." His hips pushed downward and his breath quickly caught, feeling the warmth of her vagina start to wrap around him, but, soon then, stopping as he felt something else. "...Perfect, in every way," he mused, smiling to her. "I shall be gentle," he spoke assuringly, dipping his left hand back behind her head to delve his fingers into her bed of copper curls. Leaning now on his right hand, fingers splayed in the grass, Konstantin ignored the sounds of the crowd in the background, of whatever performance was otherwise going on, of the backstage noises going on right outside her dressing room, focusing only on her eyes. Dipping his head down, he gently pressed his forehead to hers, nose beside nose, gazing down...and, taking a breath, his hips began to push forward again, into hers.

"Uunnghhn," he groaned sharply, staring into her eyes the entire time. He could feel her insides strain before giving way, claiming her innocence as tenderly as a man could with a thick, meaty girth. Several hearty exhales came against her lips as he felt her muscles still bear an amount of reaction, even in death. The hand in her hair urged her face forward with him leaning in to meet her lips, mouth to mouth, kissing her with passion, with affection, as he pushed inside of her a second time. The man groaned again, muffled by their kiss. A pull back of his hips saw another thrust follow, slow, but claiming her further, penetrating her womanly depth until it felt like he could go no further. Perhaps some other time, if she had been his...if circumstances had been different, perhaps he would be fucking her cunt, or her pussy, or her snatch. Perhaps he would be going down on her bald little muff, or even spreading her cheeks wide and stuffing her ass while he cupped and squeezed one tit, letting the other bounce wildly. Perhaps, had the circumstances been different. But this, right here, right now, what he wished was, if he were to only have her once, that it be tender. That he make love to her, to his Ana.

Each thrust brought him slightly further, each kiss a bit more impassioned, his tongue swirling about the warmth of her mouth, his shaft enveloped in the heat of her vagina. When he reached a depth where it felt like her virginal walls could accommodate him no further he soon discovered a steady rhythm, grunting, groaning, and breathing amidst a flurry of quicker kisses. At one point he tried to lift her lifeless arms to encourage them around his neck, or even onto his shoulders, but found them difficult to stay. Eventually he went back to cupping her head, fingers spread into her hair, though now instead of leaning on a hand in the grass he set his weight upon her fully, his right hand coming down now to squeeze firmly to her left cheek, encasing it in his grip, even causing her backside to spread.

The sounds going on all around seemed to challenge his lovemaking at times, but he paid them no attention. At one point that same woman's voice returned at her makeshift fabric door, calling again to the talented acrobat, but again she seemed pulled away by another right before entering. ...An interesting moment that would have been, but Konstantin paid it no mind. He was focused on her. On this. Breathing heavily, he broke the series of kisses as he felt himself coming closer and closer to that height with every new thrust. Though she was dead, her body was still warm enough, her death was still recent enough that it had a certain amount of reaction to it, and her body had wet itself enough to aid his lustful intrusion. That sloppy wet sound was unmistakable; though perhaps not as potent as it would be were she still alive, it was still there to a degree even now. It was still there enough that it aided every needy thrust, every aching piston of his thick manhood down into her.

He would have spent days loving her body if he could, but even amidst his passion Konstantin was aware that time was of a certain essence. When he felt that point nearing, rather than slow, rather than pace himself, he sped up, pumping down into her bare, feminine folds, slapping the heavy skin of his sac against her with every thrust. When he felt it, that sudden tightness in his loins, that welling up of his seed all of a second before he would burst, he found her lips again, kissing, holding her close, groaning into her supple mouth as stream after hard stream shot into her, filling her, painting her walls with hot, creamy coat after hot, cream coat of his inspired lust.

His body shuddered as it came, and then...nothing. And then a pant, the kiss parted, his forehead resting beside hers. His body was still half leaning on his knees, half leaning upon her. A long moment of silence followed as he laid there over her, breathing, holding, chest pounding, feeling her around him...and regrettably, rather than basking in the bliss, knowing now that his time with her had come to an end. Knowing, no longer in the back of his mind, but now at the forefront, that she was to become just a memory from this point.

"I could not have you in life," he breathed beside her, musing again, "but, I at least have claimed you in death, if only but once..." His eyes drifted closed. A moment later though, thinking aloud, "...Must it end here? Darling Anastaysia..." The hand on the back of her head stroked lightly over her copper strands. "Must it...must it end here... In life... In death... Why not...why not in life unending?"

His mind flooded with the thought, of things both good and bad. It was something he was perhaps more hesitant to do than anything, for such...such was equal parts a gift and a curse. Would she even love him? Would she detest him? Would she not understand him? Would she loathe him for what he did to her? Or, per chance, together, would eternity be something far easier to bear? Maybe even something to be excited over again?

Konstantin's decision was set. Right, wrong, he was not yet ready to part with her, even considering she was not being given a choice, even considering the risk. She was still warm. There was still time. Raising himself up, sliding his shaft out of her, he looked down to her body with eyes scanning her once again. Pale, flawless skin. An ample, heaving bosom, that fell to either side now with how she lay. As he shifted to sit beside her in the grass her legs fell from above her head, unfolding to a more natural state, if a bit twisted to one side. He looked over her smooth stomach, her tone legs...the mixture of virginal blood and of his gift of lust that seeped from her petals even now...up to her face, to her cheeks, to the way her hair framed her. His decision was set, he knew, even before he made it. Soon enough hindsight would hold either wisdom or regret. For now, all he knew was that he could not let her go just yet.

"I love you, darling Anastaysia," he whispered once, softly, as he looked down to her from her side, caressing the hair back from her face. Then, fingers falling to her chin, turning her head to the right, he descended down over the left side of her neck, lips parting wide enough now to bare his fangs to her for the first time.

The penetration was quick, and as quick as it was, it was deep, causing two gorgeous flows of blood to start leaking forth. He held a hand the entire time, fingers slipping into one of hers, betwixt her own, the entire time he hungrily sucked her, pausing only to lap at what he missed, as it trickled to the side and back of her shoulder. He had to stop, however, before having his fill, before even it had stopped bleeding, for he could not chance her body growing any colder than it already had. To become one like him required more than to just be bitten, it required tasting of one in turn. He brought his left hand to his lips, flinching only slightly as he bit down quick and hard, cutting through his skin with his teeth. Her lips already laid with a natural part as she lay there, so with that he merely needed to hold his cut finger over them, squeezing the wound with his opposite hand to cause several drops to drip down, landing on her tongue.

It was a waiting game, now. Had he decided to do it soon enough? Was he not as quick as needed, and perhaps he would be bringing home a corpse? Either way, that woman was back at the door again, excitedly shouting that his Ana was due on stage three minutes ago. He could hear what sounded like an upset ringmaster coming closer, through the backstage area right now rather than the section of the tent closer to the arena. Konstantin stood up and fixed his pants, tucking himself back inside them before retying and rebuckling their front. He spared a quick second to brush himself off, then knelt down, scooping his beloved trophy up, into his arms. He would leave with her, like this. Chest bare. Stomach bare. Vagina bare, dripping with their mixed juices, and with the cherry which was no longer hers to give. Panties around her right thigh. Slip hanging off her shoulders. Konstantin began to walk, one arm below her thighs, just before her knees, the other beneath her shoulders, her head bobbing with every step, her left arm limp and hanging down. Like that he carried her, through the fabric door, and out, no longer caring who else saw.
 
Through each passionate action, through each spoken word of love and lust, Anastaysia was lost. Dead. Unknowing of what had just occured, or what would become of her. The end result, of crimson splashed upon her tongue, and tickling down her throat, had sparked a great reaction. Something none would have ever expected to come of their great entertainer. The body lifted, limp upon strong arms, and bared open for all to see, drew a startled scream from Katriana, a fellow Acrobat and friend of Anastaysia, one whose voice had pierced through those thin walls calling to the sweet, young woman. Her scream came loud, shattering and full of sorrow, for she knew, without second glance, the limpness of young Anas body was the result of death. That piercing scream alerting a frustrated ringmaster, who arrived all too late, only to catch his fainting mistress. The deceased woman, left to the whims of her murderer.

It started then a small twitch of the finger, a jump of the heart. Another twitch coursing through the body and a sudden blinding pain searing through her. The embracing, calming silence of death shattering, the darkness turning into a blinding, painful light. sound numb, and dull echoing in the back of her head, rattling against the pain coursing through her body as her lungs struggled for breath, their attempts to expand not quite successful. Her heart slowly begin to beat, a hand rising, unconsciously to clutch at the back of her carriers shirt, sharp nails digging in against the fabric and the hard flesh beneath it. Her body shuddering, gasping as the first intake of breath tore through her. It pained her to breath, and so she stilled her lungs. Eyes still unfocused, unblinking, as the body slowly returned to life, or some form of it. Finally she closed her eyes, body stiffening, lashes flush against her cheeks as she tried to remember.. as she tried to think, to make something out of the nothingness screaming in the back of her mind. She lifted her head, opening her eyes and watching the world spin. It's unfocused haze swirling.

Her arm lifted, hand rose to clutch at his shoulder much as the other had done at his back. She looked up at his face, the beauty familiar... yet a horror.. a fear lingered as she gazed upon him. Memories still scrambled, nothing made sense, and she just placed her cheek against his shoulder and clutched to him, clinging as she gritted her teeth and cried out in agonizing pain. The attentions of the cirque behind them. Katriana and the Ringmaster, unawares of what had become of their precious Ana. That searing pain coursed through her veins, and she struggled against it, against it and the dull throbbing ache between her thighs. Why did she hurt? Why did it hurt? Her mind sifted through thought after thought. Nothing made sense.. nothing except the small whisper in the back of her mind.

"Konstantin.." She whispered, her voice still devoid of warmth, of life. It was hollow, breathless, and hissed. "Konstantin..." She questioned again. Trying to make sense of what was happening. Memories began to settle in, that searing pain began to fade into a ravenous hunger. Her fingertips release his shoulder, slowly sliding up along his neck, to cup the cheek of the beautiful face she had gazed upon moments before unsteadily. She remembered.... she remembered looking in the mirror.. and seeing only her startled reflection, she remembered being unable to breath.. the pain, the struggle. She remembered falling.. tasting the earth, and seeing his beautiful face. She remembered his hands around her neck, and the death he had brought her.. but now.. now she remembered death.. and awoke to life... so nothing made sense, nothing but the familiarity of that haunting face, an the name that went with it. Her palm grazed down along his cheek, and jaw, to brace at the nape of his neck and shoulder. Trusting him to hold her, as she faded in and out of consciousness. Reality slowly sinking in, with that hunger every growing, gnawing at her insides. She nudged her face into his chest, and breathed in deeply of his scent, instinctually knowing to trust the one, who smelled of the most delicious death she had ever smelled.
 
Katriana's shriek affected him naught. Dead in his arms, Konstantin carried his lovely bird away from her cage, toward one she would hopefully awake, and in time find far more befitting. For now, she was simply a corpse, naked and leaking of blood and cum. The woman shrieked, and he simply carried her past, head drooped and bobbing, doing his best to cradle her against his chest through his steps. Several others came running from the scream. When the ringmaster, Gregori, turned the corner and saw him, saw them, with her as she was, he was fixed by a horrified look as he then found Konstantin's eyes.

She was starting to come to. He could not feel the twitch of her fingertip, no, or the beating of her heart, but as she began to stir, to weakly clutch at his back, his shoulder, his face...as she shifted and murmured, notably tired, notably aching, Konstantin's face merely smiled. Anastaysia...his lovely new vampiress.

As they turned a corner in the tent he heard one of the other performers, and a rather large one at that, barreling toward him from behind. He was shouting. He was yelling, and charging, and others were hastily removing themselves from his way. Konstantin continued in his walk, holding his new darling in his arms, and only at the last moment did his body make any sort of move to acknowledge the man - his right foot leaned forward, his arms clutched her close to him, and his waist shifted, left leg bending, raising into the air. The man, large, shirtless, and from the shoulders down, a thick, hairy beast of a man, charged right into the black booted foot. A simple kick was all it took, vampiric strength winning the day, for the large man to drop the oaken mallet he'd had and for him to fall to the floor. Konstantin, a moment later, steadied himself, Anastaysia still in his arms. "None of you...are able to properly appreciate such a thing," he spoke simply, looking to the gathering of astonished onlookers. "None of you could ever hope to deserve her."

And that was it.

He knelt down momentarily in front of all of them, dropping Ana to her knees in the grass, though still supporting her shoulders with his other arm. She seemed to be coming to, and was even weakly murmuring his name, something which brought him a great smile, but she was still largely out of it. She'd just been dead - that she was this returned, this soon, was something in itself. Konstantin reached to her thigh to pull at her torn panties, ripping them further, jerking them free of her body, at which point they were discarded to the grass. Next came her slip, with him pulling it off of her hazy arms, tossing that away as well.

She was scooped off, same as before, and held closely to his body, naked, bared for any who cared to look. And that's all they did - one dared come at him again, some perhaps seeing his strength, some perhaps far too in shock by the surreal spectacle of it all. Either way, Konstantin held his new vampiress close, rounding one last corner and then carrying her out of the tent, out and into the night.

In due time she would wake, and in due time she would begin to discover things, such as what he did to her. After that, in due time, her new set of fangs. And after that, in due time as well, a newfound hunger, one of a different sort. In due time. For now, she was alive, or rather...undead.

For now, perhaps even forever, she was his.
 
Katriana yammered away vigorious in fluent Russian, her body language scared and outraged, her expression destroyed. She was shouting at Gregori, and pointing towards the man who had murdered so obviously, their precious Anastaysia. And just as she turned to look upon the man carrying away their entertainer, her expression was like a doe, caught in the hunt. For she witnessed the once limp, bloodied, and lifeless anastaysia, moving. Clinging to her captor, her blatant murderer, and the woman could not for the life of her, make sense of any of it.

Gregori's voice, shouting in the background brought a twinge of pain to her, for what reason she could not place. As she clung to him, clutch to him weakly, she could feel him move. What should have been quick, swiftly devised movements, felt slow, and natural to her. She could feel him moving whilst he held her and then a sudden loud thud. She cringed, and through half lidded eyes she gazed at the world. Which sudden shifted. She clung more tightly to him, her knees resting on the soft grass. The smell of freshly trodden earth meeting her and she reeled a bit. Her body jerking as he tore from her the remainders of her clothing. She mumbled something, whined softly and groaned as he picked her back up. Scooping her up in his arms and cradling her close to his chest. Still very disoriented she was sudden subjected to the chill of the night, even in her new life her exposed flesh trembled, shivered and goosebumps flourished along her.

For now, she dare not ask questions, for she couldn't get her mind under control, everything was still very unfocused, hazy and uncertain. She could not quite place everything or determine imagination from reality. So she nuzzled into his chest, the material of his shirt cool and comforting against her cheek. She shivered and closed her eyes tightly, unconscious seeping in over her. Her body relaxing as she settled into a form of sleep. She did not stir, nor make a sound as she nestled in against him, his carrying her not phasing her at all for now. Though it would be certain she might perhaps react different when she came to completely, and was able to make something of the mess that was her current state of mind.
 
The night was still long, and thankfully so, for so was their walk. Tonight had...not been a desired sort, but there had been little planning in it, with emotion carrying most, if not all of the actions. Ideally he would have left her there dead, removing himself from her dressing room with her to be discovered soon after, surely, but once he was out of sight. Or, ideally, that fool Gregori would have sold her to him in the first place. Ideally there were other ways this would have all happened without a huge stir being caused, for he, his type, and simply he in general was someone who preferred as little rumor and as much seclusion as possible. Though he could handle them, though he had handled them in the past, the last thing he needed were pitchforks and torches, the fools thinking their motley crew was anything of the sort that should perchance challenge an ancient blood.

The walk was long, and thankfully she slept for the majority of it. He carried her through the fields outside of the tent, away from the nearby town. He took her through the forest, away from the dirt road, into a deep of the woods most regarded as haunted at worst, and unnerving at best. Over a creek, through a clearing, and then more woods, reaching a hilly region. It took somewhere between four to five hours of steady walking until they reached the edge of that expansive forest, and reach the edge they did, for little further and it gave way to a cliff that then gave way to the sea. Just before that cliff, however, or rather, upon it sat a grand castle of stone, one not stepped upon with human feet since the thirteen-hundreds.

That would not change, even tonight.

They still had an hour or two until it would be light out. The sky was already starting to change, but that would matter not. Not only was the castle's location a mite unusual, but throughout it there was perhaps not a single window readily visible to the naked eye. There were perhaps a few here or there, their locations carefully chosen, and the master bedroom had a lovely, large stone balcony to it, but other than those, they to be enjoyed at night, windows in general were not a vampire's friend. Tales of them living in caskets in basements were not wholly exaggerated; more convenient than that, though, was when you had your home crafted so that you could walk about the grounds as you wish, with sunlight never truly being a thing of any real concern.

The most his Anastaysia had displayed throughout the entirety of the walk were brief murmurs or temporary clutches at his clothing. It had been so long since he'd turned anyone, but from what he remembered, this was to be expected. It was possible she would snap right out of it any time now, or it was just as possible she would experience things such as vomiting or fever for days - however her body specifically decided to react, really. The only thing sure was that Ana would not die, because she could not die - any uneasiness her body experienced now, hell, even should he strangle her again, the newfound blood flowing through the fledgling vampiress' veins would regenerate her before too long.

He carried her up an expanse of near forty wide stairs and through a heavy oak and iron double door, in from a night that had been hot, muggy, and had brought a sticky sheen both all over his face, neck, and his chest beneath his shirt, and the entirety of her body. Upon entering, the halls of the grand castle were a stark opposite, the air cool, the stone cold, and all of it covered in a layer of dust.

"Do you stir yet, my sweet?" He asked her as they ascended another set of stairs, holding her as close to him as ever. "...Perhaps I should take you to bed, for now?"
 
As if the words he had spoken to her, had roused her from her much needed slumber. She let fingertips trail along his shoulder and shoulder blade as her hands moved to brace against his shoulders, her cheek nuzzling against his chest through the shirt. A soft purr escaping her sleepy form. That gnawing hunger still coursed through her, and she felt a heat flourish in her body. One she was unfamiliar with. Her lips found a smooth expanse of cool, stone flesh where his silk shirt did not touch and she kissed tenderly. Tasting the light sheen of sweat that littered his flesh. She purred again, opening those green orbs to look up at that beautiful face. Something was driving her, an unfamiliar force and she didn't know what compelled her to want him, to trust him, to know him.. but she did. "I'm hungry.."

She whispered in a sultry little tone. A soft pout on her lips as she looked up at him. Unable to really move for how he held her in his arms. Her body frankly scooped up like a doll and cradled like a child. Coppery curls framed her pale face, a small splash of colour in her face. She was warm in her face, a small chance feverish, but the rest of her had cooled at the touch of the air within the dark, looming castle. Of which she had not quite registered just yet. She could not get past that enticing hunger that pulled at her, and the lust it stirred within her. She wanted more than she'd ever wanted before, and for what she hungered even she was not sire. But as she placed another soft kiss against his chest, she closed her eyes and breath in of his scent. His scent was delicious, enticing, and she wanted to know more than just his scent.

Even as she acted, writhed in his arms and ached for a touch she was unknowingly familiar with, her mind raced with thoughts, questions. The part of her that remembered herself, knew this was not like her, this was now how she was, yet this new her.. the one she'd awoken as from a most certainly real death... ached for things she couldn't name. knew things she had never known before, and was willing to take it if she couldn't have it. Lashes fluttered as she blinked and nuzzled into his chest again. A soft whine escaping her.. what would she do with herself, and where was this coming from?
 
The touches, the stirring, the clutching, the murmurs...it all made him smile so. It was reassuring, all of it, and amazingly exciting to know that he would no longer be alone, in either his nights or his days. What comforted him the most were the soft kisses pressed to the opening of his shirt, to his chest. They brought from them the most comforting smile of all. He held her closer, then, but said nothing, not right away.

Upon reaching the top of that stone staircase they were on another floor, and traveling through another cold, dusty hallway. Her body felt cool, too, to the touch - her kisses didn't bear the same warmth as when he made love to her in the tent - but that was to be expected. Her skin would pale a little more, were that possible, and her body would remain ever-cold, the same as his. Still, it was amazingly comforting to feel those kisses. Perhaps even more comforting than if they were warm, each reminding him of what she now was, each reminding him that she had been sired...there was no turning back. Would she come to detest him? Who knew. But, for now, the affection was utterly soothing.

He carried her perhaps more snugly to his chest because of it. They passed by several rooms to either side in the walk, and between them, vases, busts, various paintings and even a long, lavish red and gold rug down the center of the hallway. All of it was dusty, and the candles down its length were perhaps the dustiest of all. They sat there in their candelabras, but with the heightened night vision he bore, they were simply a thing of convenience, not of need. The same would come to her in due time, likely once she's properly fed.

The master bedroom was large, expansive, as such was intended to be. At its center sat a four-post bed upon a lavish purple and red circular carpet, with the rest of the floor stone other than it. The bed consisted of layers of elegant silken sheets and no less than a dozen pillows, with the size of the mattress itself seemingly meant for three, four, or perhaps even five or more people, rather than two or even one. Each post was of a gorgeous gilded wood with red and purple scarves encircling all the way to their top, at which point they then crossed over from one post to the next, sheer, draping down, separating the bed from the rest of the room, yet not truly separating it at all. To one side and to far across it were beautifully carved dark wooden dressers. Between the dressers, in the corner so that the sunlight would not shine directly in, was a door that led out to a balcony.

There was more, but for now he cared nothing of it. Konstantin carried his Ana, his darling, his prize over to the bed, and, standing at the foot of it, gingerly set her upon the top silk sheet, easing her down until she released him from her grip. "I know that you hunger," he finally began, "and what you hunger for, we will tend to later...tomorrow. We will talk, but before that we will eat. Before that, we will rest. And," he paused to breathe, considering, considering only momentarily, "before we rest, I will have you again, darling Anastaysia."

Was she even completely conscious yet? It mattered little. Konstantin grabbed both hands to her hips, skin that was cold yet sticky from sweat, and, stepping back, he pulled her lower half to the edge of the bed, so that her lower back hung over the edge of the wood, so that her pale backside stuck out without anything beneath it, and so that her legs reached down and touched the carpeted floor surrounding the bed awkwardly. With a grunt, more of possession than of difficulty, he flipped her body over with a powerful touch, laying her so that her belly, chest and face lay now upon the sheet. Then he stepped forward, his crotch against her backside, pushing her a step or two closer with him. He flattened her sweat-slicked thighs against the wooden edge of the bed. His hands went back to her hips. His crotch, awakened again, aroused, it now a number of hours later, craved her body once more, though now in a different way than earlier. His manhood strained against the leather. He stood snug between her cheeks, pinning her firm, the tips of her toes barely able to brush against the carpet beneath her.

He needed to get it out of his system, before bed, before food, before explaining. Before anything else. He'd made love to her, and it had been beautiful, even if she had not been entirely there. ...What he'd equally desired, though, for six long days, for six long nights, was to fuck her. Quite simply, to fuck her pretty little brains out.
 
Her mouth moved against that expanse of exposed flesh. lightly trailing her tongue against the salty taste of him, her full lush lips grazing the cool, stone like flesh as she gave her affections. Brilliant eyes studied each thing they passed, the colors she had been so used to in her mortal life were brilliant and brighter than ever before. She moaned softly against his chest and planted another hungry little kiss. She could smell no other in the entirety of the vicinity. All she could smell, taste, hear or feel was him. She wanted him.. she could feel it throughout her entirety.. she wanted him more than anything else. Just as a simple little whine slipped from her, she was being lowered down onto a bed. Her body adjusting to the comfort of the silk sheets as she released him from her grasp. Those emerald hues watching him, their colour now more ethereal than they had been before. Sharper, more predatorial.

He spoke and she listened. Every bit of her hanging onto those words in a way she had never desired to obey someone before. Something about him pulled at her, her body hummed with energy when he was close, it felt warm and fuzzy and yet her skin was still chilled. She nodded softly, taking in each word, filing it away like an intricate detail, and when he spoke that last bit, her body was filled with a thrill of electric excitement. Enough to cause her to not mind the unspoken details attached to that last, simple word again. His hands grasped at her hips and she purred excitedly. Her body pulled partially off the bed and then flipped. Her stomach and breasts rested against the sheets as he pressed snug up behind her. She arched her back a small bit and moaned softly, rocking back against him a bit as the bulge of his arousal pressed firmly against her. Hands lightly clutching at the sheets as she shifted a bit, nuzzling her face in against them to feel the cool sensation.

She wasn't much completely there, conscious and comprehending, but still a little gone. Acting solely on these new instincts rather than rationally thinking everything through. Her body thrummed with a new found desire, an aching, wanting need. Her feet barely able to find a stable footing on the floor, her thighs pressed against the hardness of the beds intricate wooden frame, the smooth surface grazing against her skin. She moan softly again, lashes flush against her cheek as she basked in the glow of that fierce desire. like a fire coursing through her. She'd known a desire like this few times in her mortal consciousness, and had more often than not tamped down that temptation and refused it. Her body had been pure, untouched and blossoming. Though it was not to her knowledge, but Konstantin had partaken in that innocence, tasted of her pure honey and taken from her her body.

In this instant, she did not care to know, nor did she even think upon it. She wanted nothing more than to feel, to know the feeling of him inside of her and not to just have it. Like she had before, and though she had been warm, and her body reacted in slight, it was nothing compared to how wet she was in this instant, to how much her body quivered in desire, the throbbing, aching need betwixt her thighs unlike anything before. "Please.." She begged, the words a pleading whine slipping between her lips like a hushed whisper.
 
Please? Please what? Please ravish her more thoroughly than before? Please set her free from this madness? Please food? Please help? She still seemed only mildly there, more subconscious than conscious. Konstantin spared little care; she would live. The fledgling vampiress would come to herself in due time. Until then she might be feverish, delusional, physically ill, or who could truly predict what else, until her body adjusted and learned to coexist with its new changes. But she would live.

If he didn't take her soon, his sanity might not.

Her body seemed to easily mold to the bed, both atop the cool, smooth silken sheets and over the wooden rail of the frame. He took a moment to look down at her, his heart racing, looking to her mess of hair that spilled out across her back and onto the bed in all directions, looking to how her fingers lightly clutched at the sheets, looking to her back, a hand caressing to feel the sticky skin, all the way down to her rear, to those plump, lovely mounds encouraged to offer themselves due to the way she lay. At first he simply gripped her hips with both hands, firmly, much more aggressively than he'd been touching her up until now, and held her steady as his thick, aching need rubbed against her through the crotch of his leather pants.

This wasn't like before. He wasn't going to make love to her, here, now. His beloved Anastaysia was going to get her twat stuffed, still messy with dried blood and cum from before. The prized acrobat of Cirque de Fichu was about to get her pussy railed, aided, if not beckoned forth by her own slick, feminine need.

The darling vampiress was going to get held down and fucked.

The grunts that came at first were deep in tone, but not too loud. He wasn't sure if she was more passed out than awake, or more awake than passed out, but he paid it little mind. Strong, spread out fingers clutched around Anastaysia's hips and held her firm in her place bent over her sire's bed while he ground his shaft lustfully between her buttcheeks. They were the perfect mix of supple and athletically muscled, tone. As she lay there practically panting and murmuring to herself, he towered over her sticky, naked body, each exhale of breath carrying with it a slight grunt as he ground himself hard into those firm, bubbly mounds.

He could have done this forever, he knew, just lay her there and dry hump for hours...before long, he probably would. There was much of her body to appreciate - every in, in fact - but for now there was a much greater need. Releasing her sides to undo his large golden buckle, Konstantin stared down at that mess of copper curls sprawled out everywhere as he pulled free his belt. The material was whipped to the side, thoughtlessly discarded. He looked to her face as he continued, one side resting upon the coolness of the sheet, the other toward him. She seemed somewhere between serene and confused. Briefly, he wondered what she was thinking. As soon as that thought came though it was gone, and as quick as that had come and gone, he'd made quick work of the front of his pants, unlacing the strings that tied at the front of the leather, pulling it down around him to free the strain. It wasn't completely off, like before, lust taking precedence over time; it was as it needed to be, perhaps halfway off his backside, the front undone enough to have been pulled below his sac, pulsating skin now pressed between her firm little cheeks.

"'Please' what?" he finally queried. "Please fuck me senseless?"

He paused a moment to snicker. Then, leaning forward, leaning over her, Konstantin snatched up one of the pillows, a rounded red and gold pillow with a gold tassel on either side. He gripped Anastaysia's hip again with his left hand, fingers wrapped slightly to her front, and lifted her lower half just a bit off stuff the pillow beneath her hips, adding to her body's natural arch. Adding to the offering of the lady's derriere. "Please fuck me, Sire?" He grinned some at that though, one enough to show off the ancient vampire's fangs. Konstantin leaned forward again to snatch both of her hands, each by the wrist, pulling them back and placing them on her own backside, toward the bottom where her butt melded with her thighs. Was she aware of herself enough to obey? He wondered. "Spread," he ordered lustily, his aching cock free and rubbing between her cheeks. "Offer yourself to me." His left hand moved to her lower back. Fingers splayed, he pressed down, encouraging an arch further. His right snatched into her mess of curls, jerking her head back, forcing her chin, her throat, all of it into a painful strain. "Please fuck me, Sire," he repeated, eyes staring down excitedly.
 
He wanted to fuck her, she could feel it, she knew it. Her body trembled, ached, wanted and desired nothing more than to feel the thickness of him inside of her, it was as if her body already knew him though she did not. She nuzzled her cheek against the cool sheets and moaned softly. Her body shifting just slightly, melding into the bed, and over the railing of it. That arch in her spine pleasantly presenting her bottom to him, the tips of her toes still struggling to press into the carpet, as his body firmly pinned her to the bed.

Each tease, each grind of that hardened desire between her cheeks sent a chill, a vibrant need through her body. He soon quickly discarded of his belt, and worked his pants down. She could feel and hear him moving behind her. Her own lust sparking extremely. His words only aiding in her want, even as he lifted her slightly to settle the pillow beneath her hips and add to the natural arch of her body. Bringing her bottom up a bit more. She moaned softly, each shift of her body teasing at her aching need. Hands caught by his own, and guided to the tops of her thighs and the bottom of her ass, her hands setting in place and doing just as he said. In this position her feet had no chance of touching the ground, especially with the pillow beneath her hips.

Every inch of her willing to obey him for what means she didn't understand. He spoke again but before she could speak, his hand was in her hair and jerking her head back into a painful strain. She gasped lightly and fingertips dug into her own flesh a bit. The hand at her back causing her to increase the arch in her body.

"Please.." She moaned breathlessly. "Please! Fuck me, Sire." She purred in a sultry tone, that husky, seductive tone rolling off her tongue with that purr and dripping with the lust that was coursing through her body. He'd find she was very much awake, perhaps a little feverish, but more than anything she was awake.. and wanting. Her body practically aching to have him fuck her, she was so wet she could barely stand it. The scent of her need permeating throughout the room, and by instinct she rocked her hips back just a little, as he rubbed his cock between her cheeks. She ground back against him. Begging once more. "Fuck me, Sire, Please!" She begged again in that sultry little purr of a voice.
 
Indeed, the scent of her need was shamelessly strong, especially to one with a heightened sense of smell as he. It was...intoxicating. Delightful. She had gone from picturesque innocence to having her virginity claimed following the eclipse of her life, to now. To this. To a purring kitten, tush raised, begging - nay, obeying her being told to beg, openly pleading like a bitch in heat. And it had been, what, hours?

She would make a fine thing, his Anastaysia.

"Good girl," his smooth, cool voice exhaled, baring an excited, fang-toothed grin. The arch of her body was gorgeous. The color of her hair, and the way it swallowed up his hand, disappearing it halfway along his forearm...her pale, bare shoulders, giving way to the line formed down the expanse of her back, to her lower back...to her backside... His eyes traveled down, feeling the excitement coursing through him as he stared at those cheeks. Thoroughly aroused, Konstantin's firm, velvety shaft had been nestled snugly between them, but now that she lay spreading herself like some wanton harlot of a woman, he hung freely. Or, to be more precise, his hips had moved in a way that had his manhood beneath her now, the tip of his ready, pulsating shaft feeling that lewd, feminine excitement as it grazed teasingly against it.

His hips rolled back. Then, they rocked forward.

"Mmmmmhhuuhhh..." Konstantin breathed out a long, deep moan. The bulbous head of his shaft pierced her, pushing apart her petals only to find itself quickly wrapped within them. "Hhhhh...mmm..." She was cold now, unlike before when she'd been dead, ironically enough. But she was also incredibly tight, even with her intense arousal.

This was where his lack of caring would come in.

"Hhhhhnnnngghh," he grunted, Konstantin bending forward, pressing his weight on the hand that kept her rear and lower back pinned to the pillow, grunting as his hips pushed forward, thrusting into her. She was an amazing mixture of being tight from her innocence and being wet from her slutty need; all he cared of was how it felt, as his body dipped forward, eyes lulling back as he let out another low, long groan.

"More," he murmured, "mmm...beg me for more."
 
He praised her with a simple 'good girl' and she relished it. Anything for even the simplest, even down right degrading bit of praise. She wanted it, needed it. What was becoming of her? Her body writhed just a bit beneath him, her core ached for him, needed him inside of her. She wanted now more than ever for him to simply fuck her.

Anastaysia had never felt so needy, so intensely aroused.. and within the next few seconds he fed that raging hunger, and pressed himself within her. She let out a cry, despite her slick, aching need, her pussy was still tight, extremely tight, partially from swollen from his endeavors when she had been dead though that was not to her knowledge. He pressed further within her and she whimpered, moaned in pleasure and dug her fingertips further into the supple flesh of her rear. "More, sire.. please.. give me more!" She begged, though she would have begged without being told.

The need to obey him, to feel him, to have him was so intense it was suffocating. His scent wrapped around her, intoxicated her along with her own. His nearness, the feel of him drove her body into a state she had never known before. He was doing this to her.. and she had such a strong pull, a strong need to obey him, to be his, to let him have her. She would learn, that such was how she was reacting to the new bond between fledgling and sire. Master, and frankly pet. She would not deny him, not now nor ever she felt. He would be her desire for the course of time.

She rocked her hips a little pressing herself back in against him. A moan sliding past her lips followed by a whimper. "Please sire.. I need more.. I want more.." She begged in a sultry little purr of erotic desire.
 
She was begging him now, his Anastaysia sounding like little more than a common alleyway harlot. Classless. Though, class had no place in the bedroom, not when a woman was being taken by her man - then, it was only a matter of embracing it all, of pleasing him. She was begging him, and the slickness of her hot little slit, barely removed from its virginity, added to that begging, her body truly wanting every inch its sire had to give.

So be it.

He wasn't gentle. As a matter of fact, she'd likely feel a great ache from the sudden, deeper thrust, Konstantin slamming his cock hard against his darling vampiress' sweet, hairless twat. His eyes went between staring at her mess of copper curls and lulling back. His throat was increasingly ragged. His voice came out as grunts and groans. He imagined how she arched, how she must have looked from the other side, her generous, beautiful, milky white tits bobbing up and down with her nipples painfully prominent... He imagined the arch of her throat as his fingers dug even more into her hair, feeling the urge to bite her again. She was already turned, already his, but the thought of her covered in a cascading waterfall of her own blood...it would be fucking gorgeous. All of these thoughts contributed to the deep, rough thrusts of his hips against her pillowy white ass, his sac, covered in a bed of dark curls, slapping rhythmically against her skin. She was given no time to adjust as he fucked her this hard, as he gave her the very dick she so shamelessly begged for. ...She didn't need time. This was her role.

Konstantin hadn't known warmth in his chest for a very, very long time - not since days far gone, when he had once been a human too - but here, this excitement she filled him with, this love, this lust, this overwhelming need for her, it was as close to that feeling as he could ever remember. His hips slammed hard against hers with the next thrust, sending those supple cheeks into a ripple before laying his body over hers more fully, laying his body weight almost entirely upon her. The hand on her lower back smoothed along to her upper, to between her shoulder blades, pinning her bosom and face against the sheets for the moment. Konstantin's lips parted. Without further thought, and more importantly, without pause, his teeth encased themselves within Anastaysia's left shoulder, creating four sudden, deep, fang-shaped puncture wounds.

When he rose, grinning, staring at the blood that soon began to flow forth from the bite, he rose back to his original position, standing back with a slight lean over her, his lower half keeping hers pinned to the wooden frame of the bed. The hand in Anastaysia's hair brought her head and chest back to their previous, sharp arch with a violent tug. Then, with just as little warning, the palm between her shoulder blades returned to her lower back, though its descent came in the form of five spread, crooked fingers, raking their nails fiercely down her deathly pale skin, further encouraging that arch.

"Fucking trollop," he grunted, grinning, eyes staring at his handiwork.

The hand on her lower back dipped down a little lower than before, enough so that the youth's sire was able to hook his thumb inside her puckered, virginal asshole with the same degree of unapologetic force the rest of her was receiving. His hips were quick to regain their deep, hard thrusts, pulling back so that only the head of his cock was wrapped within the folds of her inexperienced snatch, before slamming its glistening length all the way back in.

Somewhere, somewhere in the back of his mind Konstantin wondered to himself which was the more beautiful sound to his ears: how Anastaysia whimpered and moaned for him so constantly, and in so many different ways, or how her voice sounded in the distance, echoing off the stone walls throughout his home.
 
She had begged.. her body had ached for everything he had to give her, and without further adieu he had given it to her. Driven far into her depths to sate that burning hunger, to draw an ache to her very core. She cried out, body trembling with pleasure. She moved her hands to grip at the sheets beneath her. Unable to find a stable balance as he began to fuck her. Each thrust rocked her body against that bed frame, and she cried out again. Her deliciously breathless moans and whimpers caused by the sensation of him thrusting inside of her. A pleasure she had never known before, had never placed. Fueling and yet.. satisfying the aching, burning hunger she had just learned to know.

Yet still, there was a hunger of his own, a hunger her sire planned to satisfy and she was yet unaware. That was so of course, until he tore into the flesh of her shoulder. That stinging sensation, unexpected pain rolled into a dominant wave of pleasure that crashed upon her being. The coppery scent of blood filled the room, it mingled with the smell of sex and desire.. and she let out a long sultry little moan. The liquid coursing over her flesh.

She could feel it course along the nape of her neck and collar bone, roll over the tops of her breasts and down her cleavage.. she could feel it trickling down over her back. A soft yelp sounded from his palm upon her rear, soon followed by that sharp tug, bringing a sharp arch to her back and a moan from her lips. Those nails raking down her delicate flesh encouraging that arch and drawing a delicious purr from between her lips. "Ughn.. yes sire!"

She moaned delightedly. Every bit of pain he caused her rolled into a wave of pleasure. Bringing her closer and closer to climax. Her body quivering, trembling beneath him as he fucked her. With no amount of care. Hard.. and deep. Her nails bit at the sheets, through them practically and bedded deep into her palms. She cried out, a breathless, startled sound as he forced his thumb into her ass. She shivered and bit her lip.

Rocking her hips back against his with the momentum of each thrust. Such unapologetic force driving her even further so. she could feel it, building, the spring coiling in the pit of her stomach. " Mmn.. sire.. I.. I'm going to cum!" She cried. "I'm so close!" she cooed. Her walls tightening around his cock as she neared that release. Her body begging for him to make her cum. to Let her cum.
 
The crimson-hued dance upon such beautifully pale skin stole his attention more than he would have thought. It was beautiful to see, to watch it cascade. If claiming her, his acrobat, his caged bird, hadn't been enough, the moan she elicited upon pierced flesh have given Konstantin the most delightful thrill. And now, body retraced upward, thumb crooked into her tight little asshole, shaft pumping into her rapidly, hips colliding against and causing her cheeks to bounce...all he could concentrate on through it was that crimson cascade, how it trickled down her form. How it danced from her shoulder to her back. Onto her upper arm. How it disappeared to the front, surely down her neck and chest, the four deep puncture wounds bleeding profusely. He watched how her coppery curls swathed against it when she moved. He watched all this, and even having just bitten her, even claiming her body now, physically, as he was, all the elder vampire could find focus on was how he yearned for even more.

"You will not," he responded to her words, ceasing his thrusting all at once, all of a sudden. "Not yet." Konstantin stood there buried within her balls deep, stood there in silence for a moment and just breathed, watching how the blood trickled outward from her shoulder wounds without her body rapidly bouncing on the pillow and sheet. "You will ask for permission before you do." His thick thumb slid out from within her ass. Placing that palm over on her right hip, his touched smoothed up along her side. It slid up over her hip, over the right side of her belly. The cold fingers and palm smoothed over her ribcage, narrowly avoiding her right breast. Upon reaching her underarm he moved to her back, over her right shoulder blade, then up, up until his fingers gripped onto her right, unbitten shoulder. "You will plead for it."

He turned her, then, twisting her body onto its left side. Slicked with her wanton lust, his shaft slid mostly from her velvety warmth with the movement, though the bulbous head remained. He twisted her body roughly halfway, so that she was leaning down on her left shoulder now, body facing to the right, then twisted her a slight bit more. Konstantin's strong left hand rose to the side of her face, encompassing it within his touch. His right went to spread and slide from her stomach up along the center of her chest, fingers splayed between her breasts, while his left pressed to one side of her face, keeping the other pinned against the sheet, hooking a finger into her mouth in the process. As for his eyes, they were centered on one very specific thing.

His body bent in half, twisting, as limber as it were strong. Konstantin lowered himself to her chest, to her right breast, which he parted his lips wide as he could to encircle his mouth around as much as he might. She was voluptuous, undoubtedly, her large, milky white breast spilling out from around his lips, but still he did his best to suck it into his mouth as much he could. The hard, sensitive nub that was her erect nipple tickled against his tongue; her sire did not seem the least bit shy in tickling it back. But it was not long again before she would feel those four sharp pressings of his fangs again. She would feel them, first coming to rest against the supple skin of her mound, then pausing. Then piercing, squeezing her generous tit into his mouth as he bit.
 
All of a sudden he halted. Ceased the motion of his hips and with it took the edge off her need to orgasm. The pleasure uncoiled slowly, settled down and her body relaxed, that aching need taking the place of her recent near orgasmic pleasure. She whimpered softly. He turned her body then, twisting her slightly as he ceased all actions that would encourage her body to build upon the pleasure. She let her body settle, relaxing into the new position he had her in and she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Forgive me Sire, I did not mean to displease you." She cooed affectionately as she looked up at him. Those eyes filled with adoration, affectionate and certain, absolute loyalty. He moved his hands and she shivered with a delicate purr. Her crimson blood smeared upon her flesh and the sheets. His hand cupped her face, finger hooked into her mouth and his body bent in half. Bringing the velvet warmth of his mouth to encompass her breast. He forced as much of her supple mound into his mouth as he could and within moments had his fangs dug into the flesh. Drawing once again another wound upon her body. One that she once again, found utmost pleasure in.

His tongue lavished her nipple, and his fangs pierced her flesh. She moaned and cried out in pleasure. A gasp escaping her lips as her tongue teased along the finger he had hooked in her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and lashes pressed flush to her cheeks as her body peaked with pleasure once more. her hips rocked on instinct and her back arched, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth. A delicate hand lightly massaging the back of his neck to relieve any stress from the position, as well as encourage that in which he so openly did whether she desired it or not. But how could she not desire such a thing?

"Please.." She purred breathlessly. "Please Sire.. let me cum.." She cooed. Writhing slightly beneath him as he feasted so deliciously upon her breast. " Make me cum sire.. I want to cum for you." She purred so innocently, so sweetly. Dare he deny her? Perhaps.. but it would be worth it.. all the while he made her plead, writhe and ache with want and need. With lust and desire... she would not question, she would not fluster nor anger or annoy. She would simply embrace it, enjoy it, and beg all the more.
 
Konstantin would have taken her in such ways even without her consent - unbeknown to her, he already had - but that she was so completely enthralled in the act was all that more pleasing to her sire. That the young vampiress seemed to want nothing more than to be his, to belong to him and to be of service to him, spoke wonders of her potential as a pet. Mm, no, she did want something more than that, didn't she? She wanted to cum. His darling Anastaysia was literally begging Sire for her orgasm.

He would take it under consideration.

The feel of blood pouring all around his lips from four separate puncture wounds was beyond delight. The powerful, dark-haired vampire sucked on her happily - on her blood as it gushed freely, on her beautiful bosom and erect nipple, on anything he could. He could spend hours like this, just suckling her, with or without the blood. Mm. Maybe tomorrow. Or, at the very least, soon. He drank what of her blood he could as the rest trickled freely down her chest and abdomen, staining the bedsheet with their lovemaking the same as her shoulder wound was.

"So beautiful," were the only words in response the man spoke, exhaling the simply thought as he straightened back up to a stand. He spent his time in eyeing her, eyeing how she looked, her right breast bitten and bleeding, her left shoulder bitten and bleeding, laying on her side, naked and flustered. His own face was calm, as stoic as ever, with only his tone belying the soft affection he regarded her with.

Though he had yet to respond to her plea, Konstantin would not be one to forget of his own physical pleasure. He grasped her right leg by the ankle, then by the thigh, guiding it to raise straight upward; acrobats were a lovely thing. He guided her leg up, holding her by the ankle, raising it until it was extended straight up in the air with the copper-curled vampiress still on her side. He brought it to the left side of his chest, to his left shoulder, with her foot beside his head, and stood so that both of his legs were standing over her other. One hand wrapping around her calf, holding her leg up like that, and the other spread and set upon her right hip, Konstantin restarted his slow, deep thrusts that did not remain slow for very long.

His strong, bare hips rolled every time they thrust into her, each pump ending with a hard buck, ignoring the tightness of her inexperience, embracing the sweet snatch that now belonged to him. He groaned openly, relishing the way she looked as she was taken. The way her hair fell about her face and shoulders. The way her breasts, shoulders, sides, back...the bedsheet...the way it all looked coated in heavy trickles of her blood. The way she was his, no matter how he wanted her. It fueled his thrusts, all of it, which in turn caused her supple curves to jiggle even more with every slam of his hips.

But then he pulled out, again. Konstantin slid himself from his new pet's dripping, hot cunt, releasing her from his grip entirely as he took a full step back from the foot of the bed. His shaft was erect and glistening with her juice, as were his balls, her need generous enough that it had trickled over a good portion of her sire's sac. His eyes were on her too, still; though his touch had left her, the hunger he looked at her with still remained.

"Kneel."
 
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