Darker Passions: Dracula Page 11

  Mina did not want to hear any of this. Her eyes glinted with anger. Her thin lips pressed together and turned white as the Count's face. Her restrained fury made John's balls tighten and he imagined such anger taken out on his hide.

  The Count's head snapped around; he speared John with a look that spliced this fantasy before it could expand. Whether the Count had plans for him, or for Mina, John couldn't be certain. He was, however, convinced this dominant man had plans of some sort and secretly John could only hope that he figured in them.

  At that moment Lucy descended the stairs, dressed in tall black boots, a waist-length red rose jacket and men's pants with a flap at the rear, like long underwear, which could be unbuttoned. The outfit was totally inappropriate for evening, for any time, actually.

  Mina looked as shocked as John felt, and she clutched the bannister for support. The Count appeared pleased.

  "John, darling. And Mina. I see you've met Count Dracula. Isn't he wonderful? Oh," she said, remembering the small box she carried, "this is for you."

  She blushed as she handed the fancily-wrapped package to the Count, who snapped the ribbon in two. Inside the tissue lay a pair of finely-sewn black leather gloves, but of a peculiar variety. They were not soft pigskin, but hard, perhaps, John thought, made of stiff cow hide, the type of hide used for heavy boots. And most peculiarly, the palms were imbedded with thin metal studs.

  As the Count slipped the tight-fitting gloves onto his large hands, slowly, sensuously, John felt his penis strain against his pants. One look at Lucy told him she was wet between the legs. Even the hostile Mina stared longingly at the gloves.

  Count Dracula fixed his eyes on each of them in turn and John saw what he felt reflected on the faces of the women: a desire to be at the mercy of the hands wearing those stiff studded gloves, to be lifted and probed and entered.

  "The hour is late," the Count said to Lucy, "and the hours are few for me. I have a full evening planned and intend to put your gift to good use. Come."

  Lucy glided down the stairs as if in a dream and John watched them go out the door, enter the carriage and drive away.

  No sooner had they reached the end of the driveway than John said, "I'm going to follow them. I must see what this Count Dracula is up to with our Lucy."

  "I'll join you," Mina said, and in truth he was grateful for the company.

  They saddled the mare and the bay quickly, riding out under the blue-white waning moon. The carriage was on the road ahead and they kept far enough behind that they would not be seen.

  Soon the vehicle turned onto the grounds of Carfax.

  "What is this place?" Mina asked.

  "These are medieval buildings, with a chapel on the grounds, long empty and in disrepair. I believe, according to Arthur, it is one of the properties the Count purchased, perhaps from your husband."

  They watched the carriage stop and the Count help Lucy to the ground. Once they were sure the couple had entered the building, they dismounted and walked their horses halfway, tying them to a Sycamore. The rest of the path they traveled by foot.

  The main building was a desolate structure, built from thick local colorless brick over two hundred years ago and surrounded by dense dark trees. Much of the exterior mortar had crumbled and many exterior bricks were loose, or missing completely. Above, a tower had collapsed. The building was lined with Gothic arched windows high up along one wall, fragments of the original leaded stained-glass intact. John and Lucy crouched down and peered in through the missing bricks on ground level until they stumbled upon the room where the Count held Lucy captive.

  John pressed a finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet and pointed inside. Mina nodded. Side-by-side, his left eye, her right at the hole, they watched the candle-lit scene before them.

  The Count sat in an enormous high-backed chair, and Lucy obediently knelt before him on the dirt floor, head bowed. From his pocket he removed a black leather mask and pulled it over her entire head, covering her face and neck completely, lacing it tight in the back. There were no eye holes or opening for her mouth, but John thought he saw two little holes for breathing through her nose. The mask excited him—he'd never seen anything like it and wondered how it must feel to be cut off from sight, sound and taste, with breath only through the nostrils.

  Lucy stood and the Count turned her so her back was to him. She was wearing riding gloves and he bound her wrists together with rope, then reached up and pulled her jacket down so that her breasts and half her back were exposed. This effectively cut off her sense of touch, although she could be touched. John realized he was breathing rapidly and became aware that Mina, beside him, was too. Her body leaned into his unawares and he noticed again that soft breast, this time with the added attraction of a firm nipple.

  The Count unbuttoned the flap at the back of Lucy's outrageous pants and pulled it down, exposing a portion of her delicious round bottom. He moved her into position then quickly pulled her across his lap. From where John sat, her sweet little ass bulged up through the rectangular opening. It was not the only part of her body exposed but it may as well have been, the way it was so prominently displayed.

  Without delay, the Count raised his enormous gloved hand and brought it down smartly on Lucy's bare ass. John felt the blow as if it had landed on him. His balls tightened.

  The sound of the cowhide against flesh resonated in the empty hall and John had the feeling this was no love tap but one of the more lasting spanks he had heard. Lucy's bottom jumped high into the air, the only indication that she was affected. The lack of sound coming from her was odd and faintly titillating. Even in the dim candle light within, he could see her ass redden as if it had received half a dozen instead of one, and where the studs had landed, brighter impressions from their bite.

  Next to him, Mina held her breath. Her body quivered, the erect nipple tapping against his arm, almost distracting him.

  The spanking got underway in earnest now. The Count laid them on fast and furious, his large hand cracking both buttocks at the same time.

  As Lucy jumped, John's body spasmed in time. Mina trembled uncontrollably. Her hands went to her ears to drown out the crisp sound. Her nipple brushed furiously against his arm.

  Never had John witnessed such a licking. If it were he being punished so, he would have been screaming by now, as would Lucy, had she had the opportunity. What must it be like? he wondered, desperate to keep his cock from splitting his pants. Lucy could only breath, only smell sweat and new leather and earth. She could not hear the cracking, could not see anything, could perhaps only anticipate from the slight movements of the Count's firm body the hand raised once again to wallop that patch of flesh. That luscious, juicy fleshy square, blocked off, highlighted, granted special privilege by the Count for his sound thrashing.

  The spanking continued for a good two hours, the hand apparently not tiring, the bottom apparently never numbing, or so John judged from the heights it still leapt. How could Lucy endure this? John wondered, and he also wondered whether he could.

  By the end of it both John and Mina were worn out, as if both had received the licking, rather than simply witnessed it.

  Lucy was lowered to the floor with the Count directly facing her swollen flaming behind. His engorged penis, liberated from his pants, probed between the blazing square about where her anus would be. He entered her, the full length of him. Lucy, on her knees, shoulders and breasts pressed to the ground, threw back her masked head in its imposed silence.

  He thrust energetically holding her hips to keep her steady and Lucy buckled and banged her steaming behind into him.

  John's hand found the buttons on Mina's blouse and undid enough of them that he could locate the firm nipple and squeeze it hard, in time to the thrusts. Mina arched her back, stifling a moan, yet he had the sense she was entirely unaware that he was manipulating her.

  As the Count plowed Lucy, John raked the nipple, now a hard bud, responsive, defiant. Mina's hand went to his th
robbing crotch but her eyes were glued to the scene before her and John had the feeling she did not know what she was doing. Unawares, she rubbed the fabric of his pants, encouraging his swollen flesh to greater heights. His cock ached as she stroked him. A powerful force coalesced at his balls, ready to deliver its load.

  Within seconds the Count thrust hard. He threw back his head and howled like an animal, the voluminous roar riding the night air.

  In that moment John imagined the Count driving those juices into him in the same way; he could imagine propelling his own hot fluid into Mina or Lucy. And those imaginings forced his semen out of him.

  Mina, shocked by the spasm inside the cloth, drew back her hand. His fingers still gripped her bare nipple, now bright red in the moonlight. The look on her face was one of confusion and desire mixed with shame.

  She batted his hand away, jumped to her feet, rearranged her blouse, and ran back to the horses. He knew he should follow her and offer some explanation. He should see her safely home. And yet he felt not ready to abandon the entertainment within.

  He turned back to the opening and jolted. The Count's face was pressed to the empty space, his eyes feral in the moonlight, his stern lips and enormous teeth stained with blood.

  "Did you find what you came for, Dr. Steward? Know that I have only just begun. Miss Westenra will be spanked and buggered until sunrise, and her blood sipped throughout the night, all of which occurs in a similar fashion each evening. I assume you are jealous, but of whom?"

  John felt outraged. "Fiend! Not only have you taken Lucy from me, but you now insult me as well, in your back-handed manner."

  "You have yet to experience my back-handed manner, Dr. Steward, but you shall. And when I call you, you will come. Immediately. On bended knee. Presenting any part of your body I desire as an offering, an offering I shall enjoy to the fullest."

  The threat sent a thrill through John and yet filled him with terror. To be at the hands of this monster, to be completely controlled in a way he had not experienced before, even with his Master, Van Helsing...

  "Go!" the Count ordered. "See that Mrs. Harker arrives safely at her bed, for that is where I intend to visit her soon."

  "And what of me?" The moment the words escaped his lips, John realized he had overstepped his bounds.

  The handsomely evil face turned rigid before his eyes. "Do not worry, Dr. Steward. You time is coming and you will be dealt with properly. Now, obey me!"

  John stood as though pulled to his feet by a dozen strong hands. He turned, obediently, and hurried after Mina. She had already started down the road in a gallop but he caught up with her quickly.

  She did not encourage conversation and in fact he did not mind. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts of this all-powerful lord and his fantasies of submitting to an indomitable will.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Professor Van Helsing arrived at the asylum, John Steward was with the patient Renfield. The moment the madman saw the professor, he fell on his knees before him, emotions pouring forth. "Save us, sir, from the powers of darkness." Suddenly Renfield lifted up his head and grinned like a fool. He now sounded quite lucid. "But, of course, you cannot, being in league with the Devil himself." At which point Renfield began to cackle.

  John called the attendants. "Return him to his wrenched cell," he instructed, and they dragged the hysterical man out of the office.

  Abraham Van Helsing filled the room. He was not a tall man, but he had presence. Bearded, with grey hair and eyes, his body was solid and sturdy as a fine piece of furniture. Although he carried a metal cane, it was not firm but flexible and in any event John knew it was not used for the purpose of walking.

  "A peculiar case," he told Van Helsing, shutting the door. "Renfield has delusions and declares he requires fresh blood and needs to consume it regularly by ingesting the life of a variety of creatures."

  "Hardly peculiar," the professor said in a clipped tone that had cut John to the quick often enough. "A common breed of insanity, which you would know had you learned your lessons well at my hands. Apparently you did not. Have you forgotten who is Master here?"

  John, feeling chastened, got down on bended knee before his old Master. "Forgive me, sir, for my impudence."

  "Impudence and condescension." Van Helsing whacked him hard over both shoulders a dozen times with the metal rod, expertly avoiding the bone to bruise the muscle. Even through John's coat and shirt, the cane hurt enough to bring tears to the corners of his eyes. When the professor had finished, Van Helsing sat in a chair and extended a muddy boot, which John began to lick, a habit ingrained from four years at the university in Amsterdam where he had studied medicine under the professor.

  When he finished one boot, the other was presented. The mud was thick and tasted bitter-sweet, mingled with all the other rancid refuse that accumulated on the streets. John felt humiliated, debased, brought down several pegs from his position as head of the asylum. Suddenly he was a lad again, kneeling before his strict professor who let nothing pass, who demanded absolute obedience and who stretched him both mentally and physically beyond where he thought himself capable of going. A warm feeling coursed through his body and his genitals tingled. Licking the boot became a pleasurable act and he rededicated himself to the enjoyable task with renewed vigor.

  "Enough!" Van Helsing said sharply. "I do not have all day." He tapped John rapidly on the shoulder three times, the signal to rise.

  The face of his first Master looked beautiful in its harshness. The lines etched into the brow, the intensely intelligent eyes. It had been ten years since John had knelt before this powerful enigmatic man, who was renowned throughout the world for his exacting scientific mind that left room for nothing but the empirical. A man who had moved beyond the needs of the flesh as it concerned himself and yet was able through strict discipline to guide those lucky enough to be his students into the properly submissive mental state required for learning.

  "You may sit," Van Helsing directed, pointing to the chair opposite and not the one behind the desk. "Let's get right to the problem. Your mistress, Lucy Westenra, no longer shows interest in disciplining you. Give me all the facts as pertaining to her case and I warn you, leave nothing out, else you will again feel my tool of edification."

  John related all that had occurred, including the night he and Mina watched as Count Dracula punished then mounted his mistress. He did, though, not mention one thing—his own feelings of being drawn to the powerful Count Dracula. He convinced himself these were superfluous but knew deep down that he was hiding something but did not know why.

  "Undress and assume the position!" the Professor ordered, already standing and removing his coat and vest and rolling up his sleeves. The powerful arm muscles rippled, a reminder to John of his past relationship to the professor. John felt stunned. Excitement and terror vied for prominence at the thought of the punishment he was about to receive.

  "Sir, may I lock the door," he stammered, "I am the Director of the asylum. If one of my employees should walk through that door—"

  "He will see the Director of the asylum being whipped like a naive youth because of his falsehoods."

  John fell onto his knees distraught. "Master, I assure you, I have told all. May we not carry out any punishments you feel I deserve in private, at my home?"

  "We may not. For your procrastination, you will receive double. Now, undress, or must I rip the clothes from your wrenched body and cane you until you bleed."

  John stripped and lay across his large French-polished desk. The cool wood reminded him of the wooden desks at the Academy, which he had lain across in this same manner regularly to receive private tutelage.

  The professor wasted no time, as was his style. The thin flexible metal whipped down onto John's back, shoulders and ass with great alacrity. For an older gentleman, Van Helsing showed surprising vigor and strength and his eye and aim were still deadly accurate.

  The stinging blows rippled across John's body fro
m shoulders to the soles of his feet. Involuntarily he jumped as each whack of the rod left its red mark, just short of cutting the skin. He had not felt under absolute control nor received such a good whipping since his university days. Then the rod had not let up, but kept coming, even harder than this one did now. But he was no longer used to this. While Lucy was severe in her ministrations, her power was not that of a man who had inflicted such lessons for over forty years. And there was the fear that someone would walk through the door. He stuffed a fist into his mouth to keep from crying out as the pain became almost unbearable. Tears gushed from his eyes.

  His body heated up. He jerked to the swishing of the stinging metal. Under him, his cock sprang to life and yet he knew that the professor would permit no release.

  When Van Helsing finished, John ached so he could hardly move. His back, his ass, the backs of his legs stung as if a swarm of insects had attacked him. He stood on the tender soles of his feet. The front of his body showed the professor that one rod had been instrumental in raising another. His cock throbbed red. His balls ached. But he was ordered to dress and sit in the chair and resume where he had left off.

  John trembled, humbled before this man who had trained him so well in the past and who could read him so well. He felt humiliated and ashamed at his deception. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose and in a quivering voice recounted his attraction to the Count in great detail, hardly able to look Van Helsing in the eye.

  When he finished he sat pulsing with pain, waiting. Finally Van Helsing said, "I see that we are dealing with a monster, that is clear; this is no mortal man but a vampire, a seducer of all. He is like an animal, and does not discriminate as an intelligent man would do. Miss Westenra is obviously under his spell, as are you to a minor extent. You will bring her here immediately and we will begin treatment at once. If we are to save her from this creature, action must be taken in an orderly and systematic manner. And summon the others as well, they may prove useful."