CONFESSIONS OF A VAMPIRE - Chapter two - David MacMillan
'Lo all, I hope you're enjoying the beginnings of this vampire romance/political thriller. I've always been intrigued by vampire fiction and I'm afraid it shows in this story.
I've edited an anthology of the sexiest, most erotic vampire stories I could find for Nocturnis Productions in Amherst MA - it even includes two of my stories. You'll laugh all the way to orgasm at Barry Alexander's tale of a valley boy neophyte and cry to one at Simon Sheppard's tale of a weary vampire in Amsterdam. Hopefully, you'll chuckle your way through my retelling of Vlad the Impaler's journey to London. And that's only three of the stories to be found in this full-sized book - it's more than 85,000 words of the hottest erotica you're going to find.
There's only one little problem. Nocturnis is mumbling about money problems. If you are serious about the best, the hottest, the horniest vampire fiction around, you need to tell them that you want this book to see print NOW. Help them understand that this will be their next best seller. Write them at SPAS49392@aol.com. You'll be glad you did (by the way, Karl and Emil are not in the book).
I have added the latest installments to my other stories appearing on Nifty - Growing Up Sexual in Young Friends, Gut Feelings in Beginnings, The Learning Season in Adult/Youth - and begun Learning To Fly in College. Enjoy.
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Emil Paulik was leaving a macro-economics class when I found him in the business school building of the university. I wasn't at all sure of what it was he was studying, but he looked good as he made to leave the classroom.
"Herr Paulik," I greeted him as he exited the doorway and started deeper into the building. He stopped and turned back to me, his face showing his startlement but no fear or suspicion.
"Yes?" He moved closer to me through the flow of young bodies.
I smiled and hoped it seemed endearing in his eyes. "I'd like to speak with you this evening - if you can make the time."
He thought of the girl with whom he shared his flat and what kind of excuse he would have to make. He also wondered if I would be worth it and how I knew of him. I sensed his appreciation of my appearance as he came close to imagining releasing the controls with which he held himself and doing those things with me he had never done before.
"It concerns an income of several hundred francs a week," I offered and fought against the smile that threatened my face as his thoughts raced.
"When?" he asked, all thought of the girl gone.
"At eleven - in your favourite park?" His eyes were blank for the merest moment. "At the Plattpromenade?" I offered.
He nodded, a jerk of his mane of brown, unruly, but healthy hair. "Until eleven o'clock," he muttered and smiled - and waved as he started to resume his journey toward whatever followed his class in macro-economics. He halted and glanced back at me, searching among his memories for something familiar about me. "Your name?" he asked finally, finding nothing.
I had my date. Such a strange word. Assignation was a more descriptive word for our coming meeting. Emil certainly understood the context of the park and money; he even thought he knew what would happen. I too understood it; but I would manage what was to happen between us better than he could.
Now, I had to convince Marcus Eichmann what he imagined had happened, even as it did not. I almost enjoyed the sunlight as I stepped from the building into the square. Computer sciences was next.
As I strolled in the late-September sun through the square, I remembered where I had heard the name Eichmann before. It had been a nudge at the very outskirts of my memory since first I heard the hacker's name mentioned. Unimportant and nearly meaningless as I single-mindedly searched for the way to make myself a thoroughly modern Karl Josef Gustav, Furst von Muribor, it had remained there, just outside of cognition.
Eichmann, the nasty little Austrian Lumpenproletariat, who had been Himmler's right-hand man at the Wansee Conference. The SS colonel who was given charge at that conference in Hitler's Berlin of rounding up the Reich's Jews and carrying out the final solution on them.
Could this computer hacker be his - what? Grandson? I was not one to follow the old Christian myth that the sins of the father fell on the son. But this man had a mind-set that was as unpleasant as that of the earlier Eichmann.
His connection, if any, was one I could find just from his thoughts. If he were connected to the Wansee monster, I promised myself to make his memories of me hauntingly unpleasant ones for the rest of his life. And, if he did have a program that would hold me captive for six months, I could wait. Once I was free of him I would shorten his life immeasurably. It was the least I could do for six million helpless, restless souls who had met the older Eichmann through his pogrom.
He was in his cubicle. He did not act surprised to see me as he opened the door. "I need another five minutes on this," he said, pointing in the direction of his computer monitor. "I think we can eat at the same restaurant as last evening. Then-" He grinned knowingly. "I can introduce you to my toys this first time-"
"First time?" I asked quickly.
The thick, pale face before me widened into an all-encompassing smile. "Of course, my Prince. I feel we should get to know each other well over the next several weeks."
"How long is it going to take you to manipulate these records?" I asked, my voice cold.
"A day - two at most," he answered nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean an early termination of our relationship. There's so much I want to learn from you and-" He cupped his crotch through his trousers. "And there's so much we can have together as well. So, why rush through it?" He lifted a brow in mock question.
"Now, give me five minutes." He turned back to his computer, dismissing me from his thoughts as his fingers again touched the keyboard.
He had eaten with a relish that made last night seem a solemn state occasion and disgusted every one of the sensibilities bred into me these past 150 years. As the autumn sun mercifully sank behind the buildings to our west, he had led me silently along Gloriastrasse to the Zahnarztl Institute where we went right onto Plattenstrasse. We continued along the side of the institute to Zederstrasse and turned into it. I followed him to a small two-story house that once had been a burgher's home but was now divided into four small apartments.
I waited until we were inside his flat. Sleep, I told him with my mind.
He appeared surprised as he locked the door behind us and looked at me. "I feel tired, my Prince," he offered, his voice husky with desire for rest. "I'm going to lie down for a few minutes. Just make yourself at home."
Sleep, I commanded, reinforcing the thought with more mental strength than I had used in a hundred and a quarter years of feeding. He staggered to the sofa, barely gaining it before he was collapsing, his thoughts already incoherent as he sank into oblivion.
I waited until he was snoring before I touched his thoughts again. Shifting through them I found his grandmother and teen-aged father fleeing a cold, foodless Vienna to the west and Switzerland as Russian troops entered that city's eastern suburbs. There were images, too, of newspaper accounts from later as his grandfather stood trial in Jerusalem for something called the holocaust - and of the old man's lifeless body, its head hooded, hanging in the glass-enclosed cubicle where his execution had taken place.
Yes, our rotund, middle-aged lecher was the grandson of the Wansee monster. Shifting deeper into his memories, I found what he planned for me. I almost laughed as I found my hands tied with silk kerchiefs to the headboard of his bed, a studded leather collar about my neck. My eyes widened as I saw him placing the longest, widest dildo between my buttocks and forcing it into me. There was a cat of nine tails he also planned to use on my bared buttocks.
The images were kaleidoscopic, erotic in their touch, and full of desire. I shuddered. But sexual fantasies I could duplicate. I made them real in his thoughts, moving them from the realm of fantasy to that of reality. I expanded them, giving them hours of duration. Herr Eichmann was definitely going to have pleasant memories of our night together; he would never know they weren't real.
I moved into his bedroom, finding his kerchiefs and implements. I laid them out as if they were used. I smiled as I set the room up as he imagined it would look in the morning. I called him to me and a somnipathic Eichmann came to me. I dressed him in the leather garb he had visualised. I chuckled as I bent him over and let him know his dildo intimately but erased the memory immediately from him.
Herr Eichmann would find the thing used, the traces of faeces on it to prove it. I made him think it hot and smiled as perspiration broke out on his fat body.
The strands of his whip wiped it from his face and backside that, tomorrow, he could smell the odour of sweat. Finally, I induced him to masturbate that he would find semen among his sheets when he woke. Only, then, did I have him lie on his bed, sated by the sex he never had.
Staring down at the sleeping Eichmann, I wanted to feed. I wanted to sink my fangs deep into his throat and feel his heart flutter in its death throes. But he still owed me; and I needed the identification with which he could provide me. I wanted to leave nothing that would have this man making the leap to the realisation I was a vampire. And I doubted I could restrain myself, accepting only some of his blood, were I to nibble at his thighs.
I left him and his flat by the door. I had a date and I wanted to be clean and dressed for Emil.
"Herr von Muribor?" he asked from the darkened path.
"Would you like a coffee?" I asked as I turned toward him. Sergei's mutterings oozed through the corridors of my mind, tantalisingly close now I was with the student from the university. Close, but still incoherent. I forced them from my mind. I had every intention of satisfying one of my hungers with the man before me and did not need a dead lover reminding me of his returned presence.
"No."
I felt his apprehension at being seen with another man at this hour, at the knowledge any would have of what we were about. He smiled weakly.
"I think we need to discuss the terms of your proposed contract." He rubbed his hands together in the chill of the park.
"I live quite close," I offered as I mentally eased his suspicion of me. "It's warm there and we can have wine or a whiskey while we work out our arrangements?" Nudging his thoughts, I increased both his curiosity and desire as I made the suggestion something he wanted.
"I think-" He shivered and nodded, glancing away from me. "Let's go."
The walk to my building was but eight short blocks and I kept him talking about himself as we journeyed there.
"I couldn't really talk this afternoon," he said as he sat on the sofa and watched me remove my gloves and coat, still wary even with my vampiric reassurances.
"I understood that," I answered and mentally reassured him again. I smiled as he opened his coat and relaxed, his legs spreading beneath the corduroy of his trousers naturally.
Oh, yes, I told myself. My sexual hunger would be well-satisfied when next I slept. My eyes roamed leisurely over his body, imagining its every contour beneath his clothing.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked, struggling to keep himself mentally alert and in control of our negotiations.
"I would think five hundred Francs a week should help you remain comfortable in the winter ahead." I pulled my wallet from my suit jacket, retrieved five notes from it, and placed them on the end table beside him. He stared at them, unconsciously licking his lips and calculating.
"They-"
I felt caution rising in his thoughts. I fielded it as it rose into his consciousness.
"You're not a student?" he asked, looking up at me.
I nodded an affirmative answer to his question.
"I haven't seen you in the neighbourhood before today."
"I've only recently arrived in Zurich," I reassured him. "I have business with an instructor in computer sciences - but I am essentially a recluse. I know no one here - especially no one on campus."
He nodded. "And what are you buying with this money, Herr von Muribor?"
I smiled and moved to my bar cabinet. "Pleasant interludes, Herr Paulik - for both of us."
He studied me as I poured him a brandy. I hesitated before pouring myself a drink. Unlike microbes and viruses, alcohol did move into my blood stream - directly. Much more immediately than it did with mortals. Intoxicated, I would not be able to control my urges or strengths.
"And how do you expect us to play these interludes?" he asked as I handed him his snifter.
"Play?" I looked over my shoulder to question him.
"Are you into bondage? Or sadism?" I looked shocked. I felt shocked; gentlemen didn't do those sort of things in my sexual fantasies.
Emil chuckled. "From the way you reacted just then, I assume you're into vanilla sex?"
I shrugged, trying to link the spice to some sexual practice while hiding my ignorance.
"And what would you have me doing during these interludes of ours?"
He had put his curiosity and the fear that accompanied it into words. I could feel the desire to leave in his thoughts, a desire to avoid his own nature. I eased his hesitancy, soothing him as I would a child about to learn to swim. "Whatever you feel comfortable doing," I told him, knowing my words were not exactly true as I spoke them. He would do what I wanted him to and what he feared doing. Yet, I would ensure he was comfortable doing it.
"Five hundred francs-" he mused to himself, relaxing now he was reassured. "How many times a week do you expect that to buy these interludes you're suggesting?" "Once, twice - as many as you're comfortable with." I shrugged.
My answers satisfied him. He made his decision.
He stood and, raking the notes from the table, slipped them into his own wallet. He smiled at me as he slipped his coat off and tossed it casually on the other end of the sofa. Sitting back down, he picked up his snifter and brought it to his lips, now totally relaxed as he anticipated the sexual adventure ahead.
I touched his thoughts, shifting through them. He saw a tall, blond man no older in appearance than he - a man with a wide chest and narrow hips. A German for sure with a wide forehead and long, thin nose. He liked what he saw and was more than slightly curious at what I had in my basket.
Basket? What a strangely descriptive word.
It took me a moment to find where I had been among his surface thoughts. I quickly heightened his curiosity then as I increased the desire growing in him. I felt his tumescence, stymied at the moment within the confines of his clothing.
"Should I show you my bed?" I asked sultrily from my chair, giving him the continuing delusion of control.
Emil rose to his feet, a knowing smile pasted across his face, sexual energy permeable between us. His manhood elongating along his leg beneath his trousers now it could move. "Show me the way," he mumbled, lust already making his voice husky.
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it from his trousers as I removed my jacket and hung it. He sat on the bed to pull off his boots as I hung my shirt and stepped out of my shoes. I was hanging my slacks as he kicked off the second boot.
I felt him watching me then and glanced back at him over my shoulder. "What should I call you?" he asked, the whisper of a smile crossing his lips. "I can't think it'd be right to continue with Herr von Muribor as intimate as we're going to be."
"Call me Gustav-" I smiled as I thought of Sergei. "Or Karl as my lover does." "You've got a lover?" I felt resistance in his thoughts before I heard it in his voice.
"He's far away, Emil, and I don't even know when I'll see him next-" I turned to face him. "And we're here. Together. Now."
I recognised the source of his resistance then. An image flitted momentarily across his thoughts. He and I walking through Zurich together holding hands - the two of us lovers. His girlfriend forgotten. It had been the dream in that image that had him accepting doing what his nature wanted to do. I reinforced the image of us together, turning the relationship into one of equal friendship. One of mutual admiration. I gave it warmth and feeling.
He relaxed. Sighing, he stood and began to unzip his trousers. The question of his committing himself again relegated to the realm of possibility - if it felt right when it finally appeared between us. He pushed the corduroys to his ankles and stepped out of them.
I was aroused beneath the cotton y-fronts I had taken from the village shop when first I awoke. As I crossed the room to stand before him, I watched his eyes widened as he recognised the tube of my manhood reaching proudly across the front of my abdomen to jut several centimetres out past my hip.
"You're a big one, Karl."
I smiled at the hesitancy appearing in his thoughts. "Not too big. And it doesn't matter at this moment." My hands went to his smooth, tight chest, my fingers trailing its contours.
"You're cold," he mumbled, losing himself to my touch.
"I suspect you'll warm me up, Emi." I used the familiar form of his name consciously. I wanted him past conscious recognition of his prostitution. I wanted him relaxed completely, giving vent to himself to explore our interlude without self-imposed restrictions.
My fingers were at the waistband of his smalls; they slipped under the elastic to follow the mounds of his backside. His eyes were glazed with his growing lust, his conscious reservations behind us. He reached between us and yanked my undergarment down, exposing me.
My fingers ascended along his back as he began to kneel before me, his hands pulling the cotton from my hips onto my thighs and, finally, to my knees where they fell to my ankles.
"Gott!" he muttered as he nuzzled my shaft with his downy cheek. "Big and thick." His fingers tugged gently at my scrotum as the sensation of the warm wetness of his tongue touching the underside of my shaft shot through me.
Oh, yes. He would definitely warm me this night.
He found my glans, unthinkingly pushing the foreskin back along my shaft with his lips as he descended its length. He was doing more than I specifically prepared him to do.
This was Emil Paulik released from self-restraint and doing what he wanted. I mentally gave him the way to take my sex without gagging, freeing him to enjoy his exploration of his own needs as he gave me pleasure. He was awakening me, arousing the needs I had denied myself since Wurther and I began to flee more than fifty years ago.
I relaxed. Giving myself up to the awakenings he was causing in me.
Emil began to slow as time passed about us, his body surrendering to the fatigue that was the aftermath of the immediate hunger with which he started out to consume me. His jaw ached, becoming noticeable to him even through his desire. His knees grew tired of pressing against hard wood.
I could not ejaculate. I had not done so since Sergei visited me on my death bed and had me drink of his blood. With Emil, I came close, bordering on the brink. But, despite his best efforts, I was still dry - my testicles churning uselessly in their purse. I reached under his shoulders to pull him to his feet. "Come, Emi," I told him softly. "Let's make ourselves comfortable."
In my arms, his hip pressing against my erection, he nuzzled my sparsely haired chest, his teeth finding an exposed nipple and holding it as his tongue roughed it. I lay him on the bed and explored his chest with my tongue, consciously forcing myself not to bare my fangs and use them.
I found his manhood as he bucked against me, a wild stallion knowing it faced taming and wanting it, yet resisting still. I dove down on him, taking him completely, as my hand gripped his testicles, twisting their covering. He moaned and humped instinctively against my face.
I trailed a finger beneath his scrotum as my lips moved up along his shaft to catch his foreskin gently between my teeth and pull it over his glans. I found his arse and shoved the finger in as I again descended his manhood. He groaned hoarsely, his hips bucking and his thoughts incoherent as he accommodated my invasion.
I shoved a second finger into him and smiled to myself as I watched his testicles tighten against the shaft of his manhood and stand guard there as he neared orgasm. A third finger joined the other two as I again pulled away and played with the extra skin with which he was born.
"Jesus!" he groaned. "Gott!"
I tasted him then, even as I felt him shudder beneath me. His sphincter clinched against my fingers and his body went rigid.
I climbed between his legs. He shuddered again and tried to pull away as I raised his legs to my shoulders. Still holding him with my lips, I looked up along his body to find him staring down at me, his eyes still dazed.
"Do it," he mumbled and let his head fall back against the pillows. I lifted his buttocks to meet me. I let his manhood go and trailed my tongue over his abdomen to his chest, replacing my fingers inside him with myself. Sucking at a nipple, I eased past his sphincter.
My lips sought his as I began to move in him. His eyes opened and I felt sudden fear spread through him. "Use a condom," he groaned and moved to push me away. I blinked. Condom?
Of course, I knew what one was. But to use it with another man? Why? I pushed past the fear at the surface of his thoughts, searching for an answer.
He bucked, now trying to throw me from him. I turned back to his fear and helped him relax, helped him shove it away. His struggle ceased beneath me and I felt the heat of his erection jutting up to press against my abdomen as he accepted me inside him, his body grinding itself against my possession of him.
AIDS. A disease with no cure. A disease that destroyed a man's immune system until it tired of its struggles and left the man open to a multitude of opportunistic viruses. Until one killed him. A disease caused by a virus and carried in the blood, transmitted by blood to blood. The tiniest wound, the most microscopic tear, was enough to let the virus into a body to begin its work of destruction.
I allowed myself to consider the situation even as my pubis pressed against the insides of his warm thighs.
I could bleed from a vein or artery. I could be wounded as any mortal could but healed within moments. I could tear back skin and meat and open a vein to share my immortality. But could I carry this virus? Transmit it? For thousands of years, my forebears had been feasting on human blood. We feasted on those eaten up with syphilis and cancer - and were unaffected.
Could this new virus be sufficiently different from all those in the past that a vampire could carry it and transmit it?
I didn't think so. History was on my side.
I wasn't sure, however. I wasn't going to take a chance on being wrong. I could not endanger this man with the risk.
But what did I use as a condom? They were not something an intelligent man with what was to become known as a Wildean tendency had carried when I learnt of sex or fell in love with Sergei. This AIDS was an unknown threat when Sergei reentered my life as Wurther and I made love as passionately as an eighty year old vampire as I had as a man of twenty-four.
I did not have one of the things.
With greater regret than I had felt since I wore the uniform of an imperial Hussar and watched my country surrender its interest in the German states to the Prussians, I pulled myself from Emil's warmth.
"Tomorrow night, will you come to me, Emi?" I whispered against his ear.
"Tomorrow?" His voice was dreamy and his lips sought mine.
"I'll have condoms then," I mumbled and found his lips with my own.
He sat up and stared at me. "I've got one in my wallet," he told me sheepishly, his mind succumbing to shock as he accepted his willingness to surrender himself.
"Do you want to use it?" I asked, forcing him to make his decision without any nudges from me.
He shivered as he slipped off the bed and picked up his trousers. A moment later, he looked from the foiled packet now in his hand to me and back again. He shivered again and tore the packet open. "Be still and let me put it on you."
He stared into my eyes, looking for the soul some say lies within them, as he spread the condom open along the shaft of my manhood. "I don't understand why I'm doing this," he grunted and climbed back onto the bed with me.
I smiled and then winked at him as he opened his legs to me and lifted them to my shoulders. He pulled slowly on his erection as I entered him, concentrating on it and the feelings emanating from his working it.
"You just have a supply of them here tomorrow," he told me as he ground his buttocks against me experimentally. "You can fuck me, Karli; but you've got to protect me when you do."
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