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Dead of Night Games
By Sabriel Barclay
She smiles a dark smile upon her face as she pulled her legs up from
behind her knees to let her lover gain deeper penetration. He grunts
his approval as he moves forward slipping on the satin sheets as he
seeks to gain purchase to support his more enthusiastic thrusts. She
muses that she is glad that intellect is not a priority when choosing
playmates for this particular game she and her mate play, indeed the
less cognitive the better for this charade. He has the broad
shoulders of an oxen and the dim wits to match, this muscles are cut
and chiseled under the fine young flesh, his cock full , thick and
long. And where skill is lacking, enthusiasm ensues. He looks down
from his labors and mistakes her smile, between grunts and thrusts he
asks, "You.......like......it........huh....?". She answers by
snaking a hand down between their heated bodies and grabs him by the
shaft close to his body wall, she squeezes ,causing an unbidden moan
to pass his lips, she nods her head and replies," It'll Do."
In the corner of the room shadows merge and solidify, a tall darker
shade separates itself and flows silently into the moonlit bedchamber.
His pale features a mirror of the silver globe hanging in
the nights sky, his eyes black holes from which few return with their
souls intact. He gazes now down upon the intimately engaged couple,
his eyes following the lines and surging movements as his mate and
the other lay fucking. Her breasts moving rhythmically to the impact
of his administrations, the slickness of her cunt as it grabs and
sucks at the youngsters member. His nostrils flair at the strong and
blatant smell of the fresh carnal act laid out before him, he
shudders, his nails bite into the flesh of his palms, not in
anger....... but in anticipation.
He moves to the side of the bed and retrieves the blood knife from the
nightstand. It is an old artifact, its blade made of a black
forgotten metal that neither dulls or chips, bilateral groves running
its length, their soul intention for channeling and guiding blood
for ready deliverance to the hungry mouths of those that wield it.
The ivory handle itself said to have been carved from the femur of a
very powerful Witch-Wolf whose name has been lost to the ages.
Suffice it to say that the blade has made a name, no a dynasty of its
own, its name is Sanguisreign and it is wanting of a sacrifice this
night as well ,so much so that its resonations cause it to jump in
its current Lords hand.
Blade in hand and the need to feed ripping at the back of his skull
Erdon De La Morte approaches the bed , he is so close that he could
reach and stroke the youths back as he worked and sweated at his
labors. He looks down and Larie's dark smile breaks through her lips.
He loves her, he loves her more than anyone he has ever taken as a
mate all these hundreds of years and she has proven faithful and
enduring as none other. A small tilt of her head, a slight nod is all
he needs to know that she is ready.
It is all he needs....
In a motion of liquid dark the youth is lifted from his lovers nest.
Erdon dangles his prey by the neck, a look of sheer bewilderment
displayed upon the sometime wholesome features. Larie reaches
forward and almost delicately encircles the engorged cock before her.
Her smile washing over her face like a deadly storm as she opens her
mouth and takes it in to its root, her razor sharp teeth lacerating
the flesh as if it were a bar of butter left out on a summer’s day.
Their victim moves to utter a scream but finds his airway no longer
capable of the act. Panicked he flails, Larie giggles, a horrible
gurgle around the member that occupies her lovely throat. Erdon
plunges the blade in through the gaping hole left by the missing
appendage, up through the visera, to nestle itself in the lower
portion of the major artery found there. Blood flows in torrents
with so much force it is all that Erdon can do to keep the blade in
place, none to worry the blade tasting a fresh soul to consume, leaps
from his hand and moves with a mind of its own to lodge securely
where it can do the most good. Erdon impales the youth on the bed
poster and kneels to lap and suck at the now river of blood flowing
from the boys groin. Larie is quick to follow and together faces
nestled close to the blade hilt they drain the vessel dry.
Later they lay in the light cast off the pale boys corpse curled
against each other. Erdons cock engorged with stolen blood high in
Laries ass while she finds it in her grace to stuff the somewhat
flaccid, severed cock into her pussy and work it until she and her
mate are sated yet a second time this night. She falls asleep in her
most loved ones arms smiling a dark smile upon her face.
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