Taken by the Vampiress
A Smuthunter Story
“Look into my eyes.”
She has an Eastern European accent, and she looks like a vampire. Her hair is long and black, it is straight and frames her porcelain white face. Her lips are blood red against the impossibly white glow of her skin, and as you find yourself looking into her eyes, you find yourself fascinated by the sight of them.
Her eyes are deep and dark, and as you stare you begin to feel yourself falling into their endless depths. The longer you stare, the less and less you see.
“Come to me, come closer to me.” Her thickly accented voice is irresistible and you walk towards her. You hardly notice the swell of her large pale breasts under her long black dress.
From afar you had caught a glimpse of her cleavage, your eye had been drawn to the cut of her gown but now there is nothing but her eyes. From afar she looked a bit like Elvira, or Vampira if you have a mind for the classics, but her grace and her elegance were even more captivating than her bountiful chest.
The party moves all around you as you walk towards her, close enough to be embraced, almost close enough to kiss those red inviting lips. Somehow the hold her eyes had on you has fallen away and you find yourself dumbstruck as she smiles and laughs softly.
“You are willing to aren’t you?” Her question makes no sense, and you are distracted from thinking these thoughts as you follow her dark crimson nails tracing the pale valley of her deep cleavage.
“Yes,” she unfolds her hands like a snakes uncoiling, “you are very willing.”
Your drink is in your hand, the music is loud, all around you people are talking over the music, the air is ripe with drunken revelry, and her presences overwhelms all of it.
“Look into my eyes, look deep into my eyes.” You wonder if she is imply sexually intoxicating, or one of those girls that likes to role-play their costume just a little. Then, you wonder if she is hypnotizing you, or trying to hypnotize you and you decide to try and look away.
Her voice compels you and you are swimming in the darkness again. Your mind is racing, desperately trying to reach the surface, to find the light and break free of the hold that is smothering you now.
She is walking backwards, floating it seems, and you move with her step for step, but you stop yourself somehow. You stop yourself and you tell her no. You say no again, your voice is small, but it is yours, and you break your gaze from hers.
When you look up, she is gone.
Then you feel cold fingers caress your cheek, and large full breasts pressing into your back. “Yes”, she says, “yes.”
An impossibly strong arm holds you, and you feel lips press against your neck. The kiss is intoxicating. Your body is covered in goose-bumps and you want more. You ache so briefly to feel something you don’t know, something you don’t have a name for.
“No.” You whisper the word again, fighting despite yourself.
She turns you about and once again you are looking deep into her eyes.
“You are willing, you do not want to fight me,” she says to you as those cold soft fingers drain the heat from your skin and the will from your mind.
She kisses your lips.
She kisses you with all the delicate softness of a long lost lover, and you are staring into the endless night of her eyes.
This is what love feels like.
This is what all consuming lust and need feels like.
Once more she begins to float backwards, pulling you with her.
Then someone at the party drops their drink and the sound of the glass breaking brakes the spell.
You do not realize it was your drink falling from your hand, but in that moment she has vanished.
Beneath the intoxicating fog she was surrounded you in, a part of you has been desperately clawing at the surface of your mind. In this singular moment of clarity your animal fear is more powerful than anything else.
You decide to leave the party as fast as you can, and on your way out the front door, you run into your friends. You ask them about who that woman was, they don’t know. No one seems to know who she is, but everyone has seen her.
Your heart is pumping, your adrenaline is surging, you get in your car and you drive.
Before you know it, you are about to walk through the front door of your home.
“Look into my eyes.”
The cold night has grown colder, your hand trembles on the doorknob. You try to open it but the fear has robbed you of your motor skills. Still, you know you cannot and will not turn around.
“You are willing, you want this, turn around.” The heavily accented voice is in your ear again. Once more she is behind you, her hand is over yours, helping you to open your front door.
“I will prove it to you.” She pushes you gently into the door and it opens.
You step inside your home and as you so she pulls her hand from yours.
You want to close the door behind you but you are too afraid to turn around.
She is not touching you any longer, and a part of you, the part that is drunk on her essence wishes she was. A part of you misses the feeling of her breasts against your back, or against your chest, and craves the cold smothering touch of her fingertips and her lips. The animal fear is exhausted and gone.
“I cannot enter your home unless you invite me, and once you close the door you will be free of me. But as much as you fear me, you long for me. You want to serve me, you are willing, turn and look into my eyes. There is nothing to fear, I cannot beguile you into inviting me, it must be given of your own will.”
You know there must be a trick, you know she must be lying about something, but you turn. You turn to challenge her, to defy her, to prove that you are not willing, that you are in control. When you do turn, your eyes are closed and your hand is on the edge of the door. You will close it in her face.
“Very clever. It is too bad you want to look at me. It is too bad my image is burned into your mind. Your imagination is conjuring me, your lust is giving me form. Open your eyes and gaze into mine. Open your eyes.”
Strangely, you do.
Her words had become your thoughts, you had started to imagine her as she spoke and even as your eyes begin to open you are smothered in fantasies, consumed in memories of her kiss and the pleasure of her presence.
“Yes,“ you see her wicked smile stretch across her lips and you see the tips of her protruding fangs.
“Come to me.” You know you cannot resist her. You know you have no desire to. You step out into the night, out into her embrace.
As her fangs sink into your neck you feel waves of euphoria consume you. Your head rests on her shoulder as she drinks deep from you. You are weak in her arms, the light and heat of your body and soul is diminished, consumed by her.
You dangle on the edge of emptiness, hanging from a thread of pure orgasmic bliss. The cold is sinking into you, working its way down into your core. You shiver in her arms, as she releases you from her kiss, your head cradled against her soft breasts.
“Let me put you to bed, you are far too weak to do it yourself are you not?”
You say yes to her, you do not feel compelled by her irresistible charms you are simply desperate for warmth and your body feels too numb and weak to move.
“May I come in my sweet?” She strokes your head as she asks.
You say yes.
You remember having way too much to drink at that Halloween party, that’s why you were so exhausted for the next few days. But, in the weeks and months that follow you cannot explain what begins to happen to you, neither can your doctor.
You feel drained, physically and emotionally diminished, but there is a peace inside of your mind. At night you dream of a mysterious dark haired women and her voice that sooths you and directs you. You have never been a better worker, you have never been more organized and more focused. When you dream of her, she sets your mind to rights and you know she always knows what’s best.
You accept in a strange and spiritual away, in a mystical way that you do not fully grasp, that the physical cost is worth the gain. You accept as well that your loss of physical desire for anyone else is a small sacrifice compared to the bliss that she brings you in your dreams.
At times, you wake as her fangs slip into your neck and the euphoria is more than you can bear.
At times a part of you desperately tries to fight this enchantment, but by now you are too weak to ever be free.