Defanged

Delicate porcelain clinks. A muscle in Mina’s flank twitches, but she holds steady.

When Lady Geist invited her for tea, Mina was so eager to please she missed all the cues that should have told her she wasn’t exactly the guest of honor. More than a thimbleful of sustenance other than blood will make her ill, but she wanted so badly to be here with Lady Geist.

She still wants to be here, but her adulation has changed somewhat.

Mina’s fangs dig into the rubber of her ball gag, and she is careful in how she adjusts her weight. Every microscopic movement has the chance to pull — or to cause the tea set to rattle again and upset Lady Geist.

The gag wraps around her head, and beneath it, a green silk collar sits tight at her throat. A matching rope is strung taut between the steel circle at the nape of her neck and the steel hook curled into her ass. She’s gotten more or less accustomed to the feeling by now, but even the tiniest of movements can pull between the two and cause it to ache all over again.

The rope is too short for the full span of her back, forcing her into an arched position that keeps the top of her head precisely aligned with her raised backside, on which the glass tabletop is balanced.

Lady Geist was not content to keep her in place with this cruel method; she also shoved a heavy plug into Mina’s cunt, ostensibly to prevent her dripping all over the plush rug.

It could be worse. It could be the hard marble floor beneath.

Nothing else holds her here. She still wears her black lace bra, her garter and her silk stockings, but there are no shackles, no magic to restrain her. Lady Geist expects her to stay because she commanded it. So far, Mina has done exactly that.

Finally, the click of heels on marble as Lady Geist’s guest arrives.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” says the stranger in a sultry voice. Mina feels like she should know it, but it’s not as if she can ask.

“I had the servants swap out the Manet for a Monet,” Lady Geist answers. “Won’t you have a seat?”

As the guest settles onto the velvet sofa, Mina catches a glimpse of smooth dark skin in a high purple pump. Then something heavy comes to rest on the tabletop above her — from the rattle of porcelain, it must be the tea tray.

She closes her eyes. One benefit of being undead is that her muscle control is impeccable. Still, her weight shifts, and so does the hook in her ass. Her hole spasms, which makes her cunt tighten too — or try to, but the plug is so large, so heavy. She trembles again, body tightening around the twin pressures inside her. It takes a moment to compose herself.

Her clit pulses below the heft of the plug, untouched.

She is all too aware of the tea being poured, every movement forcing a minute adjustment of her balance and the subsequent medley of sensation around all the intrusions in her body. Silver spoons tinkle against delicate china, and she throbs again.

Fragments of conversation drift in and out of her awareness, in between her pleasure-soaked agony.

“And your son?” Lady Geist asks.

“Strong-willed as ever, but doing well enough,” says the guest. Their talk becomes a drone again as Mina floats in a sea of sensation.

She oscillates between being too aware of any singular feeling and becoming so overwhelmed she cannot process any of them in their specificity. The lace of her bra makes her nipples tingle. Her jaw aches from the gag, drool gathering at the corners of her lips. The air is infinitesimally cooler against her bare skin than against her legs and feet in their sheer stockings. The carpet beneath her tickles her palms and her knees. She curls her fingers warily into it. Just as carefully, she forces her toes to straighten, the tops of her feet at rest on the carpet.

Some delightfully catty joke above her head leads to laughter. Mina doesn’t get to laugh along, and her eyes burn. She blinks rapidly; her lipstick is already smeared, she’s sure, but she refuses to let her mascara run too. She simply waits, stuffed full and pulsing, until her whole body becomes a single nerve ending. She concentrates on keeping her restless hips raised high, exquisitely balanced.

She’s almost proud. A human body might be trembling, but aside from those moments where she loses focus or nearly loses herself to involuntary pleasure, she keeps perfectly steady. No breaths force her chest to rise and fall.

They pour a second round of tea. Mina adjusts. Every twitch of muscle leads to another. Each sensation melts into scalding heat between her legs. Maybe Lady Geist was right to plug her up; she knows how wet she’d be by now.

The hook is ruthless. It digs deep, pulling on her insides, tugging at her sensitive rim even when she’s not moving a muscle. And when she is, it only gets worse. She presses the heels of her hands into the carpet and closes her eyes, refusing to believe she might enjoy this feeling of being too full, too exposed, and unable to say a word.

“Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?” the guest asks.

“The Maelstrom?” Lady Geist asks.

“What else?”

A tear escapes, trailing slowly down Mina’s cheek. Lady Geist sets her teacup down on Mina’s back, then her entire posture shifts so she can address her guest more directly. With nothing else to focus on, Mina fixates on the barest change in air temperature as Lady Geist’s leg moves, warmth radiating the two or so inches between their bodies.

Lady Geist and her guest speak in clipped tones: the upcoming Maelstrom, the surrounding Ritual. Neither says what they’ll be there for, but they’re obviously determining whether they’re allies or enemies. Mina wants to pay attention to the details, but she’s lost in her own body, head thrumming with every sensation, blood too loud in her ears.

An errant spark drifts from Lady Geist’s cigarette, singeing Mina’s stockings and then her skin. She twitches in surprise then shudders so hard the dishes above her rattle. She wants to cry out, but she’s overwhelmed by the way her body suddenly clenches, by the pleasure-pain in her ass, by the hot throb of her neglected clit.

There’s silence above her. Lady Geist’s withering gaze is practically physical, boring through Mina’s back.

The guest is the one to break it: “You’re going to burn down your apartment with those things if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, Calico, you sound like my grandson,” Lady Geist chides.

“How is he, by the way?”

The women resume their chatter, and Mina falls back under the waves. She doesn’t know how long she stays like this. Long enough that it’s difficult to remain still. Worse than the pain or the fear of disappointing Lady Geist or the terrible sense of being ignored is the waiting. Boredom begins to creep in at the edges, and every time, she lets down her guard and a muscle moves, and the whole symphony of sensation happens again. Each iteration grows more powerful as it pushes her maddeningly toward the edge.

When she tunes in again, it’s because Calico asks, “Does it do anything?”

“It holds my tea,” Lady Geist replies primly. “But if you would like to inspect, go ahead.”

A chuckle above her, then the weight of the tea tray lifts. Suddenly Mina is both free and not free. It’s tempting to try to straighten her back, but the tug on her ass reminds her at the last second.

Calico crouches in front of her, a single finger beneath her chin. Mina finds herself staring into a pair of stylish glasses, and behind them, dark brown eyes. “It’s pretty,” she says after a moment. “Or it could be, I suppose, if it weren’t such a mess.”

It says a great deal about Mina’s current predicament that she can’t even find the energy to be offended.

The guest lets her go then traces a hand down the silk rope. “I’ve never seen something like this. Nasty bit of work,” she says, giving the rope a tug. The rounded tip of the hook pries into a new spot inside Mina, and her hips jerk involuntarily. “It seems to like it though, doesn’t it?” She wiggles the steel, stroking a few times along Mina’s hot insides. Mina’s glad for the gag to keep her from making too much noise.

“Of course it does,” Lady Geist says. “It enjoys serving its purpose.” She has moved slightly. The tip of her shoe rubs up the inside of Mina’s arm, catches on her nipple, before coming to rest again.

Clever fingers dip downward to toy with the flattened end of the plug. The lightest touch makes Mina shudder, then Calico is digging it thoughtlessly in and twisting, making Mina seize up greedily around it. Slick seeps out and Calico drags it down to stroke her clit.

Mina trembles, trying to spread her legs and close them at the same time, nearly jumping out of her skin. Her hips angle into Calico’s hand; too late, she remembers the hook. It tugs painfully, and she arches to give the rope more slack. Another tear burns down her cheek.

Calico’s fingers disappear, then return wet with her saliva. She traces tiny circles around Mina’s clit that seem intended more to rile her up than to get her off. “It’s almost cool to the touch.”

“A vampire,” Lady Geist confirms.

“You do love a novelty, don’t you?” Calico chuckles. “How long do you think it could stay like this before it gets tired?”

“As long as we keep it out of the sun, days, I imagine.”

Days? She whimpers, muffled into the rubber of the gag. Neither of them seems to notice or care.

Calico’s fingers slow, pull away, tracing a wet streak along Mina’s inner thigh. She sags with relief and she wants them back.

“I’m not sure we have that long,” Calico says. She swats Mina on the ass, which stings and jostles all the things inside her.

“Perhaps not,” says Lady Geist. “It might be nice to come home to a reward after the Maelstrom, though.” Mina wants to scream into the gag. They can’t do that to her; she’s supposed to be there for the Ritual too.

She has a Vampire Nation to take over. Careless ashes drift next to her hand, and tears threaten the corners of her eyes again. Some viscount she’ll be if she can barely manage Lady Geist.

Calico leaves Mina’s side then, returning to her seat on the couch. From the corner of her eye, Mina watches Calico’s hand, still glistening, come to rest on Lady Geist’s knee. Lady Geist chuckles, and there’s a wet sound, lips touching, fabric rustling. She wants to turn and watch, but she knows no one said she was allowed. Besides, if she moves, that wretched hook will move too, and she doesn’t know if she can take it.

She stays still, eyes closed, listening to Lady Geist sigh and Calico laugh and the sound of mouths meeting and skin touching skin.

“It’s no good over there,” Calico says. Mina can hear the devious smile in her voice. Lady Geist laughs, a low sound that sends a shiver up Mina’s spine, then Calico kneels in front of her again. “It’s going to need its mouth,” she says.

Mina’s jaw aches as she opens it wider to get her fangs out of the rubber ball, then again when the gag comes off altogether.

“Messy thing,” Calico tuts. Mina knows what she must look like: drool on her chin, lipstick smeared or gone altogether, mascara running down her face. “Go on then,” she goads with a swat on Mina’s ass.

Gingerly, Mina crawls toward Lady Geist as she’s told. Lady Geist sits with her breasts bare and her thighs spread, the skirt of her dress hitched up to reveal there’s no underwear between her stockings and the lace of her garter. “Go on then. Make yourself useful,” she says.

Every inch forward tugs at the hook, makes the weight of the plug in her more obvious, makes her clit demand attention. She wants to sob, to moan, to spit out spiteful words that make them both feel small. Instead, she crawls.

The only thing Lady Geist does to accommodate her is move closer to the edge of the velvet sofa, legs spread wider. It’s Calico who guides Mina forward with a tight fist in her hair, then Geist’s hand tangles on the other side and holds her steady. She’s pushed face first into Lady Geist’s cunt, nose pushed into a humid mass of blonde curls only a shade or two darker than the platinum on Geist’s head.

She’s wet already, likely Calico’s doing, and hot beneath Mina’s tongue. Mina hasn’t done this much; she was brought up to believe men were the only option, and by the time she realized that wasn’t true, she’d taken to burying herself in her work to escape their attentions. She loves to be desired, but she hates it too.

Lady Geist doesn’t need to know Mina doesn’t know what she’s doing, so she dives in as if she’s done it a thousand times, tongue sweeping along hot, swollen skin pulsing with blood she can almost taste. Her fangs want to come out again, but she dreads what these two will come up with if she so much as scratches Lady Geist without permission. She has another feast to focus on anyway.

She sucks and licks and then opens her mouth to shove her tongue in, coating it in Lady Geist’s slick. The taste of her fills Mina’s head, her scent the only thing left in the world.

Calico won’t let herself be forgotten though. Slick fingers pry at the plug in Mina’s cunt. Mina whines when she pulls it out, the flare at the widest part spreading her wide open again. She tries to close her legs and can’t when Calico pumps it in and out a couple times, stretching her too tight. Then she slides it free, and Mina feels lighter — emptier.

Not empty for long. Another object nudges against her, at least as wide as the one it replaces. There’s pressure, and she’s so grateful for something to fill her up again that she has no resistance left. It pushes in and in, and she whines as this one goes deeper than the plug ever could. It bottoms out inside her and Calico’s warm hips come to rest against hers.

She thought she’d gotten used to the feeling, but the synthetic cock carves deep, caressing spaces left untouched until now, forcing her body to reshape itself even where it had been full before. Every thrust lights a spark in her spine and jostles the hook in her ass in a new burst of torment.

Calico doesn’t care about Mina’s pleasure. Her hips move and the toy plunges deeper, and Calico’s pelvis smacks the steel buried inside her. The leather harness holding the toy together torments Mina’s clit in sporadic, taunting brushes; every time it does, she sobs into Lady Geist’s wet heat.

Lady Geist’s clawed hand jerks her forward. She grinds into Mina’s face, crushing her petite nose. The angle changes, the hook moves, and Mina would scream if she weren’t so overwhelmed with the warring sensations ravaging her.

She pants, feels, body swollen and wet and feeling all too human for her liking. Her head swims, ears full of static, and she slurps and kisses wherever she can until Lady Geist’s fist spasms in her hair, and Mina’s chin is wet, her tongue coated in slick.

Calico does not take much longer, groaning as her thrusts grow erratic and shallow, then still.

Mina, sore and dripping, wants to speak and knows she shouldn’t. She risks a quiet moment where she rests her head on Lady Geist’s thigh. Then Lady Geist moves, and Mina is forgotten again. Calico extracts the toy, leaving her achingly empty, swollen flesh trying to clasp around something that’s no longer there. She’s so close that she thinks it would take only the barest touch.

Neither of them grants her that relief. Instead they speak to each other in low voices: a soft laugh, a smug hum, the wet sound of lips touching.

“Aren’t you going to put your toys away?” Calico asks.

“I suppose,” Lady Geist says. She comes closer and Mina’s undead heart tries to pound. Then something soft and plastic pushes into her dripping cunt — the plug again. Lady Geist fixes the gag into place once more, burying Mina’s sudden sob.

Her back arches again and the tabletop returns. But despair doesn’t fully hit until Lady Geist says, “The servants can manage the rest,” and they turn off the lights.