Chained In The Vampire's Dungeon

Some people like blondes or brunettes. Some people have a
preference for foreign accents. Personally, I’m wet for vampires.

It’s always been like that for me. When my school friends
would hide behind the cushions and scream at old horror movies, I’d sit there
squirming for a completely different reason, wondering what it would be like to
have that tall, dark monster sink his teeth into my neck. For a long time, that
was as close as I ever got to
making
my dreams a reality.
My parents were pretty strict, so it wasn’t as if I had the chance to visit any
vamp bars. Not until I’d left home anyway.

I remember a night not long after I’d gone to university
when I got all dressed up in my only pair of heels and a low-cut dress I
borrowed from my room-mate. I’d got it into my head to go to Positively O – the
only bar I’d heard of that catered to a vamp clientele. After I got dressed and
did my make-up, I walked a groove in the bedroom floor as I tried to talk
myself into leaving the house. I got as far as the corner of my street before I
panicked and ran home.

Part of the attraction that vampires hold is the sense of
danger. That night, my fear got the better of my lust. I’d spent my whole
adolescence fantasising about meeting a cold, pale stranger, but when it came
down to it, I wasn’t ready.

After that, I tried to make myself forget about men with
fangs. I went on a few dates, but I just couldn’t get serious with human guys.
In the end, I decided I was destined to be alone. It wasn’t so bad. I bought a
vibrator for the horny nights and I had friends to keep me busy in the daytime.
I carried on like that for years. Graduation came and went, and one day I found
I was an accountant with my own house and a smart little car that I owned
outright. From the outside, my life must have looked like a dream come true.
But every night when I went to bed, I went alone. In the moments before sleep,
when I had no work or acquaintances to distract me, my mind’s eye settled on
the image of my perfect man.

When I thought of him, he always looked the same. He was
tall – at least six
foot
, with shoulder-length dark
hair that he wore swept back from his face. I was glad of that. It meant I
could see his beauty more clearly. He had grey eyes that were paler than any
eyes you’d ever see in nature. His face had a strong masculine jaw and full
lips that surely should have been a luscious pink, but were drained of all
colour. He sprang up in my imagination fully formed. I mean, the detail about
his bloodless lips was something I would never have thought of. It wasn’t like
creating a dream lover – more like remembering someone I’d loved a long time
ago. There were many nights when I held that picture of him in my head as I
touched myself. I imagined his unnatural eyes on me, watching me throw off the
bedclothes and spread my legs as the moonlight filtered in through the
curtains.

That was my favourite fantasy when I was masturbating. I’d
take all my clothes off and get into bed, covering myself with just a sheet.
Then I’d run my hands over my breasts, pretending my vampire lover was fondling
me. He’d have cold hands.
All the
better to raise
goosebumps
on my skin. I thought of him lying on top of me,
pinning me down with his cold body and penetrating me with his cock and his
teeth at the same time. It was easy to get myself off like that. All I had to
do was conjure him up and my fingers would do the rest.

There was one night when I arrived home from work with him already
on my mind. It was audit season, so work was one long waking nightmare. At the
end of another long day with no time for lunch, I shovelled down a takeaway
pizza and ran myself what I hoped would be a relaxing bath. By the time the
bathroom had filled with scented steam and I’d lit all the candles I could
find, the stresses of the day were starting to slide away. I decided to make a
night of it. I’d have a night in with my fingers and my imagination.

When the bath was ready, I fetched myself a glass of wine,
took off my work suit and sank into the warm water. I’ve never been one for
bubbles, but I’d poured a generous measure of patchouli oil into the water and
the scent filled my nose as I slid down under the water line. A sigh escaped me
and I put the working week firmly in the past. If only I had a lover to massage
my shoulders.

I took a drink of cabernet and put the glass down at the end
of the bath. There was no lover, but I could pretend. He’d strip out of his
dark clothes, showing me every inch of his deathly pale body. Then he’d kneel
behind me at the head of the bath and lay his hands on either side of my neck.
I leaned my head to the side as I pictured him rubbing the tension out of me
with his strong, elegant fingers. When he’d kneaded my flesh into submission,
he’d rise and step into my bath. I raised my hand to my breast, stroking my wet
skin the way that he would. With my other hand, I parted the lips of my cunt
and imagined that it was his finger probing gently inside me.

My breath came faster and I told myself it was his sighs I
was hearing. It was his finger and thumb that took hold of my clit – not mine.
My pussy felt swollen and desperate for more. My hands would have to be enough.

A draft blew through the bathroom and the flickering candlelight
brought me back to myself. I took my hand from between my legs. Nights spent
alone stretch out beyond all laws of physics. I didn’t want to climax too soon
and spend the rest of the evening praying for sleep that wouldn’t come.

I finished my bath, continuing the game by pretending that
my vampire lover was wielding the sponge that washed me clean. In the end, it
was the drop in temperature that forced me out of the water. I wrapped myself
in a towel and went to the bedroom, turning up the thermostat on the way. There
was a chill in the air that lifted the hairs on my arms. It hadn’t been
remotely cold before my bath.

Sitting at the dressing table, I brushed out my hair as I
waited for the temperature to rise. I watched myself in the mirror and tried to
appraise my looks the way a man would. I was one of the few women at work to
wear her hair long. Maybe they thought it would be seen as a sign of weakness.
I didn’t care. I was good at my job and I liked the way my pale brown hair
looked when I shook it loose and let it fall down my back. Both of my real
lovers had commented on it. One of them had even wrapped his fist in it to pull
my head back when we made love. That was something I had filed away in my
fantasy collection. It was definitely the sort of thing my vamp would do to me.

With all the knots teased out of my hair, I leaned forward
and examined my face in the mirror. I didn’t look bad for my age. Full lips
that still held on to some of the lipstick I’d put on that morning. Good
cheekbones. Pretty brown eyes, or so I’d been told. Unhitching my towel, I
stood up to cast an eye over my body. Pleasantly curvy was what sprang to mind.
I wasn’t one of those women who fretted about being bigger than the stick girls
on the front of magazines. I was average – not overweight, not particularly
athletic.
Soft and round and inviting.
I passed the
fuckability
test. It wasn’t as if I didn’t get any offers.
But none of them were from men who could leave me with two little puncture
wounds on the side of my neck.

Oh well. I could dream. My thoughts returned to my fantasy
vamp and my clit began to tingle. It was warmer again. I didn’t need to worry
about getting under the covers. I watched myself run my hands over my body,
lingering on my hardening nipples and getting ever closer to my aching pussy.
As I slid my fingers over the hair between my legs I caught sight of movement
at the window.

I snatched up the towel that I’d dropped and drew it around
my nakedness, my heart pounding in my throat. Was there someone out there? My
brain ran away with all sorts of scenarios that a woman
on
her own
tries not to think about. I didn’t want to look, but I had to.
I’d spend the whole night imagining the worst if I didn’t go to the window. As
I got closer to the glass, a cold settled over the room and I shivered. I
glimpsed something moving out there. It was too big to be a bird, but what else
could it be at my first floor window? Stepping closer, I held my breath and
peered out into the gloom.

Something flashed past, inches away from the glass, making
me squeal in surprise. I wasn’t imagining things. There really was something
out there. I stumbled backwards and told myself it was just an owl or a bat,
but the explanation didn’t sink deeper than the surface of my mind. I wanted to
believe it, but I didn’t feel the truth of it. What I did feel scared me.

A face glided into view and hung at the window.
Pale and unmistakably masculine.
The same
slicked back hair and pale grey eyes that I’d been imagining for so long.
I tripped on the edge of the rug and fell to the floor. Panic made me scrabble
for the shelter of my bed and I crouched behind it. I was seeing things. I was
lonely and I’d spent too much time on my own. It explained everything. I’d been
fantasising for so long that I’d lost my grip on reality.

But I knew what was happening now. When I looked up over the
top of the bed, there’d be nothing at the window. I’d finish my bottle of wine
and the alcohol would let me escape into sleep.

I kneeled up, my heart beat deafening.

He was still there. His gaze pierced the glass and drove
right into the heart of me. My vampire lover had come for me after all these
years. The rational part of me dismissed that as nonsense, but I found myself
getting to my feet anyway. I went to the window, pulled in by the cold fire in
his grey eyes. Standing at the window, I stared at him, soaking up every
detail. There was nothing about him that was any different from the vamp in my
head. He looked at me with the same hunger I’d seen in my dreams.