Darker Passions: Dracula Read online

  Through blurred vision she saw him now naked. His cock stood erect, longer and thicker than Jonathan's. And far more experienced. Rock hard already, despite her agony, Magda felt proud that she still had this affect on him.

  "Take me, my lord." Her voice was almost gone, but sincere. "Anywhere that pleases you."

  "You have learned well."

  His scalding cock found her burning cunt hole. As it touched the scorched outer flesh, she gasped. It had been so long since he had entered her that it felt as though her opening had closed up and she was once more a virgin. His cock head nudged, like a firm, insistent knock on the door. Before she could open to him, he broke into her, the long sturdy rod penetrating its full length, pushing her walls aside to make room for him. Slowly he pulled out of her completely then reentered quickly, burrowing deeper, ripping moans from her throat. Each extreme thrust caused her extreme pain, and pleasure. He slid a finger into her smarting asshole, then two, then three; her moans increased in volume. "My master, anything to please you. Anything!"

  He squeezed one of her sore ass cheeks hard, sending her into another spin of pain; her cunt contracted around him. Her body rippled with pleasure as his fucking speed increased. Her walls gripped him, working with him, sending waves of delight rushing through her hot pussy and along her rectum until she felt she would go mad with the sensation. The fucking seemed eternal. Each time he entered, her folds parted submissively, as he withdrew, they accompanied him to the door, her tunnel tightening for his next thrust. He rode her hard and she rode the dark horse of pain, her ass cheeks an inferno, her cunt exploding. Their gallop became a pounding run, bodies working together towards the moment when pain and pleasure inextricably tangled and they merged.

  Magda cried out her ecstasy as he shot into her scalding body a cooling stream.

  Chapter Four

  She must have fallen asleep; pain pulsing from her ass woke her. She was alone, still strapped securely to the metal horse. The burning skin of her bottom warmed her like fire on a cold night and reminded her of how he had taken her. Her pussy and bottom hole felt raw from his fucking. Thinking about his hard cock controlling her made the juices inside her break.

  If he did not love her, would he have bothered punishing her so soundly? Would his cock have driven her beyond her anger and resentment? He still cared.

  Magda felt this knowledge swirl through her. She could endure any pain. She longed for her next lesson, for hadn't he implied there would be many more to come? She would present herself over and over to him to be thrashed into a frenzy of pain and lust and ultimately surrender. This is what she had been missing, what she longed for. Jonathan seemed like a child, her attempts to act the mistress a naive game. Her Master's no-nonsense discipline had corrected her course. The end justifies the means, she had often heard it said. Now she understood that truth to the core of her being. She laughed suddenly, feeling her burning end, the justification for his means.

  Suddenly her Master returned. And with him the Englishman, naked but for what appeared to be leather suspenders running from his groin up his stomach and chest to a studded leather collar around his neck, where they were attached.

  Jonathan stared at her ass. His jaw hung open, his eyes widened.

  Why had the master brought Harker here? To humiliate her? To show him how the dominator had become the submissive? Magda felt her face color with shame before this stranger. And yet, was he not part of the means toward the end she had hoped to achieve?

  Vlad turned to the Englishman. "In one of your English books there is the story of a school master from Amsterdam, a firm believer in corporeal punishment, who claims to have 'cracked the seat of a student's rebellion'. Tell me Jonathan, did you attend a boarding school?"

  Jonathan, still gaping at Magda's ass, nodded.

  "Prior to coming here, had your seat of rebellion been cracked?"

  Jonathan shook his head.

  "I thought not. Unlike Magda, you are unfamiliar with the virtues of the strap. We are an old and backward people, in this part of the world, and hence must glean knowledge from many corners, including yours." Vlad walked to the wall and removed a willow switch, imported from England. He whipped it through the air and Jonathan jumped. The sound set Magda to shivering. Surely he would not whip her again! Not in the presence of the Englishman!

  Jonathan, looking pale and exhausted, said nothing. Magda could tell from his face that her behind was a fireball, redder than a poppy. As red as the blood seeping from the two wounds at his neck. He was not changed, but from the pallor of his face she could tell Vlad had taken much of his vital fluid.

  "Sit there, Mr. Harker," Vlad ordered, pointing the switch. "Observe and learn of our simple Transylvanian ways."

  Jonathan sat gingerly on a low leather ottoman the color of a persimmon. It was an ottoman that Magda had been laid across many times in the past and well whipped on by means of a switch like the one Vlad now held. It was also the seat where Vlad had sat when he ordered her onto her hands and knees before him, her head down, her ass up. As he flogged her bottom raw with a switch, or sometimes with the Turkish horsewhip, she took his magnificent cock deep into her throat. Those delicious times had died long ago and yet what occurred tonight had rekindled her hopes for the future. As if reading her thoughts, Vlad said, "Magda, Mr. Harker wishes to see you submit to the willow."

  He walked to the horse of pain, swishing the flexible branch back and forth in the air. The sound made her bottom twitch in anticipation yet sent a cold quiver through her chest.

  "Shall I whip you before Mr. Harker?"

  "As it pleases you, my lord," she whispered, embarrassed, terrified that he would, afraid that he would not.

  She heard the switch cut the air a split second before she felt it cut across her ass on a diagonal. Her wounded flesh perked up at this new pain. She watched her nipples harden and felt the liquid within her cunt flow. He lashed the willow across her backside from left to right, then right to left, then cut into her thighs a dozen times. She bit her lip but could not keep from wailing.

  Harker watched spellbound.

  "Tonight, Magda, I have a treat which will please. A Master must execute discipline regularly and creatively for the edification of all concerned. Clever new pastimes are required. You see, my dear, Mr. Harker does not appreciate how bored you have become, but I do. I have allowed this to happen and it is my responsibility to correct the error by insuring the frequent administration of rigorous punishment. This situation must not be permitted to continue. You have suffered my neglect."

  "My lord, I suffer no longer."

  His lips under his dark moustache turned up into a slight smile, revealing the sharp points. "We will see."

  Behind him, through the tinted glass of the little window, the only window in the room, she saw that the sky was lightening. The sun would rise shortly.

  "What are you thinking, my dear?"

  It was useless to hide her thoughts from him. "We must return to our rest soon, sire, before the sun rises."

  "And?"

  She hesitated. "And I am too tender for further punishment tonight. I must heal so that I may offer you a fresh canvas on which to paint your exacting pictures."

  "I agree with the former, but only with the latter in theory," he said. "You see, Mr. Harker has agreed to continue painting into the day, when I am unable to wield the brush."

  The idea of Jonathan using the willow on her turned her sick with humiliation, and yet she felt oddly titillated. But how could she be punished in daylight? Maybe Jonathan would be brought to their secret sleeping chamber.

  "Magda, both your need for and capacity to enjoy pain has always impressed me. As the sun rises, you will impress me still further. You will endure even greater agony. Pain beyond your wildest dreams. Suffering inflicted by me through the hand of my servant."

  The light through the window was growing intense. Something in Vlad's tone frightened her. She wanted to beg him not to do whatever he was con
templating. But she knew from the past that pleas would only increase her misery.

  "I leave you now, in good hands. Alas, I must hear most of what will occur from afar. However, I will be on hand for the initial moments, for a glimpse or two, and will carry a sweet image with me to sleep." He walked to the door and stepped out. The door closed but not all the way. Through that pencil-line opening, Vlad commanded, "Mr. Harker, proceed as instructed."

  Magda looked at Jonathan. He went to the window. As he opened it, she turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed to the light filtering into the room. Light that heated the air. Suddenly she felt as if she were trapped in a Turkish steam bath. Her terror increased. "Why are you letting in the light?" she cried.

  "Patience, my dear, a creative undertaking requires time for proper execution," Vlad called. His deep voice was tinged with amusement and excitement.

  Through her closed eyelids she saw the sun cut above the top of the window sill. Instantly she knew where those rays fell; they seared her ass like a whip of fire. She screamed. Jonathan closed the window and all light was blocked. The temperature fell everywhere but where the sun's rays had licked.

  Magda smelled burning flesh, her own. Across her bottom she knew a thin line had been scorched. This she could not stand. It was beyond even her endurance.

  "You sell yourself short," Vlad said, once again reading her thoughts. "You can endure much, and will. Mr. Harker, proceed."

  "No! Please! Master, I shall never disobey you again. I will do anything—"

  Jonathan threw open the window. Heat welled around her, fire tore across her bottom and into the folds of her wide-spread openings. The window closed.

  Through her wracking sobs she heard Vlad say, "Alas, my love, it is well past my bedtime. I am old, as you know, and need my rest. Nothing would please me more than to witness your full initiation by fire, but this cannot be. The light affects me too. Mr. Harker has been directed to open and close the window until the sun rises above it. Have no fear; the rays are focused. Your seat of rebellion will be evenly cooked and your temperament far more tender by tomorrow evening."

  As the door closed, the window opened, and Magda screamed.

  Chapter Five

  When the sun set the next night, Vlad came for her. Magda could hardly move. Her flesh was in shock.

  He freed her and she braced herself against the horse of pain and looked over her shoulder. Hundreds of blood-filled blisters covered her bottom. Blisters that came to life as Vlad threw her over his shoulder and carried her over to where Jonathan lay naked but for the leather suspenders. His English cock stood erect, as if waiting for her.

  Vlad positioned her on top of Jonathan; her slit over his member. She braced herself on her hands and knees. Vlad entered her from behind.

  They moved in a strange rhythm, she up and down Jonathan's shaft, while Vlad impaled her asshole. His hips banged against her swollen cheeks, pressing on the blisters, reviving excruciating pain that awakened fierce pleasure. Magda slid along the cusp of ecstasy, edging towards it, then away. Each time she felt she was in control of her orgasm with Jonathan, Vlad forced her to a new rim of sensation. The moment her pace became comfortable, he quickened his and she was compelled to follow. Soon she gave herself over to fucking and being fucked. As she slid to the edge of Jonathan's prick, Vlad's cock withdrew. As she collapsed down onto Jonathan and was filled with him, Vlad impaled her anew. And just when she was lulled into that pattern, he changed again, thrusting his rod deep into her rectum only when she reached the head of Jonathan's penis.

  She did not notice the sisters enter the room. Suddenly the plump one straddled herself over Jonathan's face while the thin one stood over her sister, getting her sensitive mound tongue- whipped. The fleshy one grabbed Magda's nipples between her thumbs and fingers and pinched and twisted them. Her sister above reached down and did the same to her.

  The first orgasm rocked Magda. Her body shook as if the earth had quaked. And while she came, cunt and anus contracting as ripple after ripple coursed through her, the motion continued, pumping, grinding into her backside, pinching her tender nipples, hips slapping her blistered behind, cock throbbing in her cunt, her pleasure exquisite. Magda came many times before the others exploded into her and each other.

  They lay in a heap until Vlad order, "Magda, get up!" She stood immediately. He opened his arms and she willingly entered his embrace. His teeth found the throat wounds from when he had scarred her that first time, so long ago. There was no blood in her to be taken. In fact, she needed blood. But she also needed this piercing. This ultimate surrender to her dark lord and his indomitable appetites.

  As he impaled her with his long eye teeth, she felt cherished. Loved. By Vlad. By her sisters. How could she have felt apart from them all?

  "You may play with him, my dear," he said, nodding at Jonathan, "until my return. Come," he told the sisters. They joined him, each on one side. As they left the tower room, Vlad selected a Chinese braided horsehair whip from the wall and several metal clips.

  Magda was alone with Jonathan.

  He looked up at her with those innocent blue eyes. She pitied him. Soon he would return to England, to his frigid wife Mina, never to actualize his darkest fantasies. His brief attempt at mastering her with the sunlight had been dismal. He had succeeded in the physical task but the man himself was lacking. He'd been doomed to failure. He had never learned to submit, how could he possibly hope to dominate.

  She reached out a hand. He grasped it and stood.

  "To the rack," she said.

  "Why, whatever for?" He sounded shocked.

  "So that I may bind you and stretch you and whip you until you bleed."

  He sputtered. "That's...that's ridiculous, Magda. I refuse..."

  He was still mortal and she had not been so in a long while. Her strength exceeded his. Within moments she had him locked against the metal bed frame.

  The suspenders he wore soon showed their true purpose. Thrust into his rectum was the large Moroccan dildo Vlad had taken with him the night before. Magda had worn it herself, in both of her holes, and knew that by now the giant leather penis threatened to split him in two. The end had a ring attached and to that ring a rounded strip of leather, which ran up between his ass cheeks, along his backbone and was finally secured to the studded collar circling his throat. This clever arrangement held the enormous dildo firmly in place, meanwhile leaving his bottom and back exposed for her pleasure. His ass cheeks were criss-crossed with dozens of angry red lines—the marks of the willow. Magda smiled and thought: the Master was busy last night!

  She twisted the handles at the four corners of the bed until he was stretched wide and long and begging her to cease. Then she pulled a lever and the frame lifted upright.

  "Stop! This infernal machine will tear my limbs from my torso!"

  "That is entirely possible."

  His tone changed. "Hadn't you enough punishment for your actions of yesterday evening?" His attempt to threaten was weak. Futile. "When Count Dracula finds out about this—"

  "He will be pleased. Why do you suppose we're alone here together." His eyes followed her as she selected a Spanish bull whip. The oiled leather was rounded and darkly tanned, except for the flat length at the end and the distinctive white cord, dotted with splatterings of dried blood along it. It was a long whip—a good ten feet, thick at the tooled handle and braided, but narrowing to the tip. She had never wielded it before but remembered its nasty sting. She knew she would use it naturally.

  His cock, half firm, had sprung between the slats of the rack. Isolated from the rest of his body, it reminded her of a young boy poking his head out a window to see what the world had to offer. His prick quivered at her touch. The large vein protruded along the shaft, inviting her. She reached in and brought his balls through the opening too. The position assured he would not release anything until she permitted it. With the tail end of the whip, she flicked his cock until it rose higher and seemed firmer
and the vein darkened from the pressure of the stinging.

  "Magda, we should discuss this in a civilized manner. I don't believe you want to—"

  "But I do want to, Jonathan. I do want to whip you. Violently. Until your flesh cracks open and blood bubbles from the tears in your delicate English hide. Blood that I will lap up to give me strength to whip you again and again, until you learn the art of submission."

  She took a jar from the shelf and massaged fat mixed with crushed stinging nettles into his back, his ass and the back of his legs. She left his cock clean, though, because she didn't like the taste. Animal fat, she recalled from those sessions long ago, increased the heat created by good leather. His skin would welt sooner and burn longer. The nettles were already increasing his discomfort. It was as though she could read his thoughts. "Oh, you will no doubt see your precious Mina again. And when you do, she will hardly recognize you; you'll be a new man. She'll feel the difference soon enough, though, likely on her precious ass."

  She grasped the handle firmly and threw the long whip behind her. "Now, Mr. Jonathan Harker, you will repeat after me, 'Please, Mistress, punish me severely...'"

  Part 2 - Mina

  Chapter Six

  I arrived at Whitby, a seaport town on the coast of England's North Sea by train from London. The train was dirty, both the interior and exterior, indecently loud, and reeking with foul odors, all of it made worse by the fact that I was obliged to share my compartment with an odious man—I shall not call him a gentleman—who persisted in staring at my breasts. I only made this trip to visit my dear friend Lucy Westenra, for I have not seen Lucy since my marriage to Jonathan.

  "Mina, oh Mina, how I've missed you!" Lucy, embarrassingly exuberant in her affections as always, raced down the steps of the manor house to the carriage, her golden ringlets bouncing in the sunlight. She grabbed me about the waist as a man would and lifted me to the ground. She smothered my face and lips with her warm wet kisses, holding me tightly against her soft bosom; I had not before appreciated her strength, for indeed she is a small girl.