At the Fetish Parasite

In the moments before consciousness settled upon me, I was vaguely aware of a strange sensation, like being underwater. My skin felt cold, yet dry, but there was this oppressive heaviness that pressed down on my entire body, like I was thousands of feet below the ocean surface. It hurt my chest to force myself to draw breath and I couldn’t move my limbs. My eyes snapped open in a panic and an icy horror filled me as darkness surrounded me. Slowly my eyes adjusted to my surroundings and I saw that I was in a very dark room. The only light came from a single candle, which seemed a million miles away from me, on a bedside table. A lone chair stood on the opposite sid the the table and it held solitary figure. She seemed a grandmotherly sort although I couldn’t see her face. She saw my eyes open and she walked over to me. I still couldn’t turn my head so she gently placed her hand behind my neck and raised my head forward to bring a pewter cup to my mouth. I had no idea what it was but it tasted like some sort of sweet nectar, it was thick yet delicious, and I wanted nothing more than to drain that cup, but she pulled it away.

“Not so fast, you’re still weak,” the grandmotherly nurse said, “ you rest now, and I will feed you more later.”

She had an accent that I couldn’t place but it sounded like she came from some Eastern European country. She brushed her soft wrinkled hands over my forehead in a manner that reminded me of when I got sick as a child and my own grandmother would take care of me. As the nourishment from the cup worked its way through my body, the dense weight that held my limbs abated whatwhat but I was still so fatigued that I soon drifted off into fitful unconsciousness.

Soon I was thinking about the past, because I had no strength to fight off the painful memories that assaulted me. I missed my grandmother greatly, she had died last year and left me on my own. I had lived with her since the time I was eight years old, after my mother disappeared and my father went to jail. I had heard years later, after my mother had died, that she was living on the streets at that time. She was a lost soul, her whole life was consumed to her addiction of heroin, and it shackled her to her fate. As for my father, last I had heard he was locked away in San Quentin prison for murder, after sentencing I hadn’t heard from him.

The murder he had committed I actually had witnessed. I can’t remember how old I was but I was having a sleep over with a friend of mine. We were asleep in the living room of my father’s house in a run down section of East LA. My father was a drug dealer and he had always had unsavory types of people in and out at all hours. I had awoke to the sound of a loud argument coming from the den, which was just off the living room where I slept. I saw my father yelling at a Mexican man with one deformed arm. I had seen this man in the house before because my father told me not to stare at his arm, which looked like it stopped growing when he was a little boy. The man yelled back and my father pulled a knife out and stabbed him in the chest. The deformed man’s friends tried to pull him out of our house to get him away from my father, but they weren’t fast enough. There my father slaughtered that man, in the room next to where I numbly sat watching. The deformed man’s friends ran and soon the cops were at my house. They led my father away and took me to live with my grandmother.

After that, I had led a relatively normal life. My grandmother sent me to Catholic school and I spent most of my time taking art classes. After I graduated high school, I went to a nearby community college to get my associated degree in fine arts. I had planned on opening my own studio one day or possibly teaching if that didn’t pan out.

There, at the school, I had met Tony. He was a playwright and a horrible one to boot, but love is blind and I fell hard. After a year and a half, we realized that we were just too different and decided to go our separate ways. This was the first and only man I had loved and I honestly thought that, even though we argued a lot, that we would marry and have a family with a white picket fenced house in suburbia. Now as I lay in this foreign place, I tried to picture my life as a soccer mom, wearing Keds and denim jumpers, and I couldn’t grasp it. What had happened to me last night?

The memory of the ceremony came back to me then. I again tried to open my eyes and look about me, and I found that the grandmotherly woman was still there, sitting the chair near the bed.

“Where am I?” I asked her.

“You need sleep, you are still so weak,” she told me.

I tried to sit up, my head spun, and I felt like I was going to be sick. A dull throb started in and my vision started to black out. She ran to my side and put her arm around my back to brace me. She might have seemed old but she possessed more than enough strength to hold my weight up. She propped me up against the headboard when it was obvious that I wasn’t going to let her lie me back down.

“I will send for Master Dominic, I will see if he can calm you down because if you don’t rest you wont heal.” and even as she reprimanded me I felt safe in just hearing that name--Master Dominic.

She never even left the room, but in a moment, he walked through the door. She must have summoned him telepathically because they looked at each other for a moment, and then he smiled.

“It’s OK Brietta, I will take care of her.” Dominic told the elderly nurse and then with a slight bow she left the room. He walked over to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge. Just having him in the room with me made me calmer. He reached out and stroked my hair back from my face. “How are you feeling?” he asked me.

“Weak. Why am I so weak?”

“Because you are in transition now, you are on your way to becoming one of us and it will take time before your body adjusts to the new gift I have given you. You will soon be immortal, like all of us here, but right now, you are not. You are fragile and you need to be taken care of, soon though you will be impervious to disease or old age.” Then he brushed his hand against my neck and touched a very sore spot there. He felt me wince away from the pain. “You see, now you have to let your body heal. However, I can make it better for you.

“Tell me, my love, what is your name?”

“Donella.” I replied.

“A beautiful name,” He said in a contemplative whisper.

He put his finger in his mouth and pierced a hole in the tip of it with his front teeth. When he pulled his hand out from his mouth I could see a drop of blood forming, and my stomach quickened at the sight. It was almost a feeling between hunger and desire. I opened my mouth to accept his bloody finger and I suckled on it like a newborn babe. I realized that his blood was the same nectar from the pewter cup and I felt myself grow stronger the more I drank. Then he pulled his hand away and he placed it against the wound in my neck. As soon as the blood touched my flesh, I felt a sizzling sensation like when you put hydrogen peroxide on a cut, then the pain was gone and my neck was fully healed.

“If I remember correctly,” he said with a small smile, “You weren’t only bit on the neck,” Then he pulled the covers off my body and saw that I was lying there totally naked, “I believe that lovely fair-haired Claire also bit you somewhere else.”

Since my legs still felt weak, he gently pulled them apart for me revealing my most secret spot. At the movement of my legs, I felt a sharp stabbing pain grow up from the folds of my sex. Dominic scooped me up into his arms and laid me sideways on the bed. My body felt like a dried husk and I had no more control over my limp muscles than a rag doll, yet having him manipulate my body felt so relaxing.

I had my complete trust in him and it felt so good to relinquish control to this dominating man. He pulled my knees up in a gynecological fashion with my feet positioned at the edge of the bed with my ass just inches behind them. In a moment, Dominic held the bloodied tip of his finger to the sensitive cut, in the even more sensitive area, and it was instantly cauterized. As soon as he touched me, all pain stopped and my entire body was focused on his finger, gently stroking the flesh around my clit. His blood made his finger slide around and caused me to grow incredibly aroused. My clit felt as if it were engorged in blood, which made me thankful that he had sealed the wound or I felt I might have bled to death. I moaned softly and closed my eyes fully concentrating on the feeling of his hand stroking me. I started to grow wet and Dominic felt my juices slide over his fingertips as he massaged me tenderly. He changed position and he placed his head between my open legs and covered my labial lips with soft kisses. His tongue flicked teasingly against my clit before he slurped its entire length into my moist hole. I could feel the warmth of his mouth and his breath as he drank up my fluids--they flowed out and he lapped them up furiously. He wrapped his whole mouth around my clit, suckling it and he used one of his hands to slip two fingers into my hole. I knew I was going to cum, but I didn’t know if I could handle it, as weak as I was. Of course, he knew, he knew everything. So he eased his mouth off my clit while he still finger fucked me.

“Oh, my Dark Lord!” he exclaimed, “I wish you weren’t so weak, my beautiful Donella. You taste so good! Just seeing you here so submissive, makes me wish to climb on top of you and fill you full of cum, but I’m afraid the exhaustion might kill you.”

He looked so sad just then that I felt as if his heart would break. He grabbed the pewter cup off the bedside table and lifted it to my lips. His hand was shaking and he spilled a little on the bed accidentally. He might have been immortal but deep down inside, he was still a man and ruled by desires of the flesh. At that moment, there was nothing more arousing that this man who couldn’t fight off his manly urges and to know that I had brought him to this point. I hardly cared if I was too weak or not, all I felt this burning need to feel him inside of me.

“We will try but if I feel you cannot handle this I will have to leave you be,” he said as he fumbled to disrobe.

He then flung off his cowled robe to reveal his naked form. His tattoos were caught in the candlelight and made him have a mottled look. His rock hard cock stood at attention, slightly bent to the left and a pearly drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip. He knelt at the edge of the bed, in front of my waiting vagina. With the help of one hand, he guided his erect penis into me.

Even though I was very excited and very willing, he still seemed too big; I was still just a little too tight for him. As his head pushed through my inner lips, it seemed to meet resistance, so he balanced his hands on my hips. Very slowly and very gently, he rocked his hips forward then with each stroke, he managed to push a little deeper. Before long, he was fully inside. He didn’t speed up his pace at all, he just kept sliding in and out.

On the backstroke, he would pause as the tip of his penis came close to popping out of my tight clench around it. Then he would ease it back into me and he would pause again as I imagined my muscles grabbing his shaft. He felt so warm inside of me. His eyes never left mine the whole time he gently plunged deep into me. Before too long his breath quickened and he dug his nails into the flesh of my hips.
I’m I’m going to cum! Oh, my Lord! I’m going to cum now!” he announced then bit his lip.

He gasped suddenly as I felt a spasm jerk through his penis when he strained pushing it as far as it would go inside me. He held his breath and released it with a shudder. A thin skin of sweat broke out all over his body at the pinnacle of his orgasm. My eyes never left his face as he clenched his eyes shut tight and he collapsed on top of me.

I wrapped my arms around him hugging him tightly to my bare breasts. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the he suddenly realized that he might be crushing me in my fragile state. He rolled off and laid down next to me on the bed. I entwined my arms back around him and he fell asleep.

How different this was from last night! What just happened was more akin to “making love” than anyg. g. This man, Dominic Kayne, had a sensitive side that was amiss from the typical blood-sucking vampire image I had known from superstition.

This man was far from being a corpse. He was warm and I could feel his heartbeat. I started to wonder what my abilities were just as I drifted off to sleep.