Thread: The Scourge of Truassley (Poppy x J_Jester)

Logan felt in control, even if the vampire seemed to take him being there as good fun. He knew that a vampire was, on average, stronger than a human, especially if they were well fed, but Logan was strong, years of battle and fighting left him in good physical condition, and without magic to help her, she wouldn't be able to oppose him physically. It was her fangs, those things that marked her openly as a wretched creature, he was weary of. No matter the magic he had to protect him, a swift bite to his neck, or any major blood vessel, might leave him weakened. Still, her hair made the perfect leash to keep her away, the only shame was she wouldn't be able to use her mouth to his liking. Another dry chuckle left his throat, You think this is a game? Like you'll slither your way out of this? he asked, wondering what her thoughts were, Or perhaps this is what you want. You are a disgusting creature, being put in your place must feel good. A good bitch would be worth more than you are, he said, two metal clad fingers left her breast, only to be moved between her lips, entering her mouth, the steel protected them from her fangs, he pulled on her hair, forcing her head back, his head tilted as he seemed to inspect her. Bite down and break your teeth if you so desire, he taunted, the tip of his finger pressed against the fang, so these are how you feed? Strange to think such things are part of what separates a human from a beasts, his finger slide passed her fang, pressing against her tongue, forcing her mouth farther open, and what separates something perfectly good for my cock from something useless to me, he said, letting her saliva coat her plush, ruby lips. Still, even if you can't do anything down there... he started, removing his fingers, letting a strand of saliva trail with them for a moment, with firm push, he forced her to her knees, keeping a firm hold on her hair, ....you might as well kneel before your prince, honestly, you don't deserve to walk on two feet to begin with, down...farther, he commanded, pulling her down more, his free hand pushed on her neck until her face was pressed against the ground. As he stood up straight, a metal booted foot pressed against the side of her head, keeping her down, covered ass in the air. Better, he said, both of his hands free, he took a moment to undo some straps of his armor. His gauntlets were connected to his armored sleeves, which meant, to remove them, he needed to remove everything up to his shoulder. He hadn't planned on removing them at all, but the idea of feeling just what the skin of the vampire was like was a temptation he could not pass up. Still, now more than ever he knew he had to be careful. His arms and hands would be expossed, and, perhaps more importantly, his wrists, which could give her access to a fresh flow of his blood, if he let her close to them. The metal fell off, clattering against the stone floor, he rolled up the white sleeves beneath to his elbows, helping him cool off in the heat. He wore a ring on his right ring finger, golden with his family's ensignia on it. The metal bottom of his boot moved a bit, keeping pressure down and treating her like a door mat, but, more importantly, making sure she couldn't escape as it rolled her head to the side, pressing against her cheek. Logan had never forced himself on a woman. He was the prince, a good looking and well liked one at that. However, his natural strength, coupled with his domineering attitude, and large capacity for lust, meant more than a few women felt the repercussions of lying with him. More than one had bruises which would take weeks to heal entirely, or cry out in the middle of the act from a jolt of pain mixing with their pleasure. The brothels he would take his men would only line up the women they knew could both satisfy, and endure, his natural power. Alright, he said, rubbing his arms, the feeling of the air hitting them was more refreshing than he could have expected, such finery you wear, he started, reaching down, his hands gripped the already plunging back of her outfit, the sounds of fabric tearing echoed through the throne room as he ripped the dress farther down, freeing what was left of her form from it. As his boot left her face, his hand, no free, returned to her hair. Crawl, he commanded, pulling her forward, his hand gave her a quick lash, the slap reverberating through the room as his hand met her plump bottom, he lead her forward, a bit, simply enjoying the power he had over the evil. Finally, he lead her, on all fours, to a pile of bones, a part of her throne which let her prop up the upper part of her body some as she held on, he knelt slightly next to her, forcing a arch to her back with his hold on his hair as his free hand felt her. It traveled over her bottom, up her side, before he gripped and grabbed her breast, tugging and twisting at her nipple. It sent a shiver up his spine, the church taught that vampires were all look with no substance, the promise of desires fufilled, but just a facade. One rumor taught to knights was that a vampires skin felt of sand and rust, but it was a lie, her skin was like a fine silk, breasts soft like fine pillows. This, in his mind, only made her more dangerous. Answer me, creature, why is it your kind desire breeding as much as blood? Why do you want my seed so badly? he questioned, he pulled on her breast and hair at the same time.