Thread: Of Desire

She was begging him now, his Anastaysia sounding like little more than a common alleyway harlot. Classless. Though, class had no place in the bedroom, not when a woman was being taken by her man - then , it was only a matter of embracing it all, of pleasing him. She was begging him, and the slickness of her hot little slit, barely removed from its virginity, added to that begging, her body truly wanting every inch its sire had to give. So be it. He wasn't gentle. As a matter of fact, she'd likely feel a great ache from the sudden, deeper thrust, Konstantin slamming his cock hard against his darling vampiress' sweet, hairless twat. His eyes went between staring at her mess of copper curls and lulling back. His throat was increasingly ragged. His voice came out as grunts and groans. He imagined how she arched, how she must have looked from the other side, her generous, beautiful, milky white tits bobbing up and down with her nipples painfully prominent... He imagined the arch of her throat as his fingers dug even more into her hair, feeling the urge to bite her again. She was already turned, already his, but the thought of her covered in a cascading waterfall of her own blood...it would be fucking gorgeous. All of these thoughts contributed to the deep, rough thrusts of his hips against her pillowy white ass, his sac, covered in a bed of dark curls, slapping rhythmically against her skin. She was given no time to adjust as he fucked her this hard, as he gave her the very dick she so shamelessly begged for. ...She didn't need time. This was her role. Konstantin hadn't known warmth in his chest for a very, very long time - not since days far gone, when he had once been a human too - but here, this excitement she filled him with, this love, this lust, this overwhelming need for her, it was as close to that feeling as he could ever remember. His hips slammed hard against hers with the next thrust, sending those supple cheeks into a ripple before laying his body over hers more fully, laying his body weight almost entirely upon her. The hand on her lower back smoothed along to her upper, to between her shoulder blades, pinning her bosom and face against the sheets for the moment. Konstantin's lips parted. Without further thought, and more importantly, without pause, his teeth encased themselves within Anastaysia's left shoulder, creating four sudden, deep, fang-shaped puncture wounds. When he rose, grinning, staring at the blood that soon began to flow forth from the bite, he rose back to his original position, standing back with a slight lean over her, his lower half keeping hers pinned to the wooden frame of the bed. The hand in Anastaysia's hair brought her head and chest back to their previous, sharp arch with a violent tug. Then, with just as little warning, the palm between her shoulder blades returned to her lower back, though its descent came in the form of five spread, crooked fingers, raking their nails fiercely down her deathly pale skin, further encouraging that arch. Fucking trollop, he grunted, grinning, eyes staring at his handiwork. The hand on her lower back dipped down a little lower than before, enough so that the youth's sire was able to hook his thumb inside her puckered, virginal asshole with the same degree of unapologetic force the rest of her was receiving. His hips were quick to regain their deep, hard thrusts, pulling back so that only the head of his cock was wrapped within the folds of her inexperienced snatch, before slamming its glistening length all the way back in. Somewhere, somewhere in the back of his mind Konstantin wondered to himself which was the more beautiful sound to his ears how Anastaysia whimpered and moaned for him so constantly, and in so many different ways, or how her voice sounded in the distance, echoing off the stone walls throughout his home.