A Pain in the Neck

Image used with permission of Victoria Blisse

Tossing my empty coffee cup into the backseat of my car, I stare at the building in front of me. Broken windows, graffitied walls, a big fucking hole in the roof. Only God knows why these creatures choose such dilapidated buildings to roost in.

My car door slams and I don’t even get three feet away before the rainclouds overhead decide to shed their load. I hunker down into my mac, splashing through red and blue flashing puddles as I make my way to the city’s newest feeding den.

A young officer signals me over to his car. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m old enough that pretty much everyone looks young to me, but this kid looks especially fresh. Well, he would if he wasn’t so pallid. Rubbing his neck with a shaking hand, he bobs his head in the direction of the shattered hotel door.

“It’s in there.”

Damn, the poor bastard sounds as pale as he looks. But still, calling them creatures is one thing, but calling them ‘it’ is another altogether. They aren’t ‘its’ though every person back at the precinct would beg to differ.

I give him the disapproving eyebrow. “I’m gonna need more than that, kid. Am I looking for a he? A she? Neither? Both? Gimme a few details cos I don’t want to end up walking right past the creature I’m supposed to be arresting.”

“Arresting!” A bark of laughter is quickly followed by a helpless half-laugh then a grimace. “She. It’s a…she’s a she. And you won’t be walking past her, Detective. You won’t be able to miss her. We managed to chain her up in the basement before she…before she…”

It only dawns on me now that this obvious rookie is alone. I glance at the club door then meet his haunted eyes. “Shit.”

When I slip into the building, gun in hand, the rain gets louder. It’s coming in through the damaged roof, pouring through holes in each of the three floors above me and straight down through the one in front of me. It’s been raining heavily for days so the basement is gonna be nice and swampy. Awesome.

My descent down the slimy stairs is the most annoying two minutes of my life. The rail crumbles beneath my fingers, two of the steps splinter under the strain of my weight. If I make it to the bottom without twisting an ankle I’ll have to rethink my no church on Sunday’s policy. Ha, as if!

God, it fucking stinks down here. I hold my sleeve over my nose to shield myself against the reek. Cracks appear in the floor as I walk. For a few minutes, the light from my torch is the only light in the room. But as I venture further into the ruined space another light starts to glow.

At first, it’s a barely there pink. Most people mistake it for a witch light. Well, people who haven’t actually seen a witch light do. I’ve seen far too many of them and this isn’t that. It isn’t even witches. This is worse.

The pink brightens, warms, gets stronger and harsher until the middle of the room pulses with hot light. And at the centre of it stands a woman.

Her back is facing me, and her arms are stretched over her head. A darker shade of red spills from her hands, down her wrists, over her shoulders. It pools on the surprisingly dry floor at her feet. What isn’t at her feet is the body I was expecting to find. Where the fuck has that other cop gone? If he jumps out at me while I’m trying to fix this mess he’ll end up with a wooden bullet in the heart. I’m tired of playing games with fucking fledglings.

I eye her, wondering why she’s still locked down. Thick chains cross back and forth over her body from head to toe, some of them doubled up, all of them secured with padlocks. Freeing herself from that should be child’s play for her. Her head is bowed, and her body is loose, but that doesn’t mean a fucking thing. She isn’t a pile of dust and she isn’t people shaped leather, so she isn’t dead. It amazes me that they think they can still fool people with that.

I hear something snuffling in the corner and snigger. They think they can fool people because they can. Officer Walking Corpse wouldn’t be in the dire straits he’s in if they couldn’t.

With a long-suffering sigh, I pick my way across the floor. The place is covered in shit. Smashed bottles, broken chairs, tattered clothing. Oh, and a few exsanguinated rats. How nice. I remember the days when rats at a crime scene would still be alive.

I stop about three feet away from the creature. Apart from her chains and a pair of black knickers, she’s naked. I shouldn’t be surprised, it’s not like they’re ever not naked. Her skin is plump and dimpled, and it glows red in the eerie light that surrounds her.

I take even, measured steps, maintaining a three-foot distance. Once I’m in front of her, I stop. Goddam my fucking cock! It might be a grizzled old thing but every time my brain registers a pair of tits, up it comes. I try to ignore it. Try to ignore the tits. Instead, I focus on the face.

Well, I’ve never seen one quite like this before. Button nose, round cheeks, bloodstained lips. Her lashes are dark and so is her hair. Botticelli used to paint women like this. She’s as still as the grave, but I know better.

“Come off it, lady.” I manage to sound both bored and convivial at the same time. “The jig, as they say, is up. I know you’re alive so do us both a favour and stop playing dead.”

Her eyelids snap open and she stares at me. I expect to see ruby irises that match her just fed glow. What I actually see is a pair of obsidian orbs.

I drop my torch. My gun skids across the floor and disappears down a crack. Even though I try to fight them, my feet drag me towards her. As I get closer the stench around me fades. It becomes sweeter. Spicier. Cinnamon and sugar. And blood. The scent of fresh blood oozes from her pores.

She’s smiling at me. Such a warm smile, such a sweet smile. My mac drops to the floor. I can hear the soles of my shoes peeling off the sticky floor every time I take a step. She plans to kill me. The hazardous canines she’s licking have been lowered from her gums for just that purpose.

“Come to me, sweetling.”

Oh, what a lovely voice! So inviting, so sensual, so toxic. My tie lands at my feet. She smiles wider when I start to unbutton my shirt. Wiry grey hair covers my chest. My belly. My groin. She can see it because I lowered my trousers.

With a twitch of her nose, she eyes my cock. It’s not long, but it’s thick. Thick enough to make some of my lovers cry. She’s going to make me put it in her. I can see her thoughts in my head. She wants me to pull her black knickers to the side. Lift my wrist to her mouth, cover my cock in my own blood then slide it inside of her. She’ll bite me as I fuck her. Her kind always learn quickly that they can steal a human’s orgasm if they feed while fucking, and that the orgasm doesn’t stop until the heart stops. I’ve been told that it’s a wonderful way to die.

But that isn’t the way I’m going to die.

Because I’m not human.

When I get close enough to touch her, I raise my hand above her head. One quick snap of my fingers and her chains shatter. She cries out in alarm but she’s already on her knees. My cock is already finding its way in through her parted lips.

“Aaaah, that’s it,” I groan softly as she starts to suck.

By rights, her mouth should be a cold, clammy cavern, but the officer she just fed on has warmed her. His blood has plumped her skin, softened her hair, and hopefully moistened her cunt like it has her mouth.

Her tongue rolls against the underside of my cock. Licks around the ridge, dips in and out of the small slit in the tip. I rest my hand on the back of her head, coaxing her closer, feeling my jaw getting wider and wider as she takes my cock deeper and deeper into her mouth. There’s a bit of resistance and then, with a soft pop, I enter the back of her throat.

There is no gagging with this one. Humans never seem able to help it, but her kind could probably swallow a man whole if they had a mind to. She spits my cock out and sucks my balls into her mouth instead. Jiggling them with her tongue, pulling the sack with her lips, moaning when they leave her mouth and I try to replace them with my dick.

“Feed me,” she pleads.

She holds her chains up and I take them, wrap them around my hand, pull her closer.

“Feed me, Master, please! I’m begging you!”

I deny her when she tries to suck me again. I could give her what she wants, but should I? She’s a killer. An irresponsible, greedy, careless killer. A cop killer. Well, he’s not entirely dead but his career in law enforcement certainly is. She did this. Never mind feeding her, I should fuck her then break her neck and come on her wrinkled corpse.

She rubs her cheek against my thigh. Paws at my hand like a begging dog.

No, she might be a pain in the neck, just like the rest of them, but this isn’t her fault, is it? Not even a little bit. Cupping her chin, I make her look at me. She looks shocked. My brown eyes have turned ice blue and I’m starting to give off my own glow. We’re both similar creatures but I’m not like her. I’m something far older and far more powerful than she will ever comprehend.

“Okay, lady, I’ll feed you on one condition.”


“You’ll tell me who made you and how they found that godforsaken well of blood in that goddam fucking cave.”

“I will! I will, I will!”

This time she gags on my cock. I tighten the chain in my hand, knowing it’s squeezing her throat, feeling her getting tighter around me. I fuck that pretty face as hard as I plan to fuck her cunt. Harder, in fact, because I’m pissed. She shouldn’t be. Someone made her during the time when making was outlawed, and now she and her kind are making so many others, elders like me are struggling to control their numbers.

My balls smack off her neck. The chains get even tighter. My eyes find the fledgling, wanking in the shadows, and now my cock is spurting down her throat. Her moans make my orgasm stronger, harder, because she’s getting what she needs, and I can feel that she fucking loves it.

Once I’m done here I’ll be paying the rogue vamp who made her a visit. I just hope it isn’t someone I know because I’d hate to have to kill a friend.

**To continue reading this story, click here.**

Week #203
Prompt by Victoria Blisse

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