Thread: Wishverse Revisited (Annika and Google)

RE Wishverse Revisited Get it out of my sight. The command was sotto voce but nevertheless demanded immediate compliance. Two male vampires rushed to do her bidding, hunched and cowed in a traditional and animalistic posture that denoted submissiveness. Neither one so much as attempted to glance at her. Pussies, the whole damn lot of them. Zander's maimed carcass was cast outside, where he would lie screaming for the dawn. Willow had known he was too weak to lead and he had swiftly accepted her as his personal alpha but there had been something familiar about him and that had been reassuring while she was winning the support of vampires centuries old in the pursuit of her new world order, well Sunnydale order. The world could wait... for now. The factories that had been Zander's brainchild were burning to the ground. Willow preferred a more personal touch to feeding. Since Buffy had died at the hands of a half crazed Angel, whom she herself had tortured beyond the point of madness, there was nothing to push against. Willow had returned the vampire class to the shadows but only because that was where the fun was to be had. There were no curfews now, no blood tithes. The people of Sunnydale could run their lives as they pleased but if they were fed from andor killed they had no form of redress. Burning the draining factories and blood tithe stations had been enough of a sop to the human ruling elite. They weren't about to start splitting hairs if the town retained a rather high death toll, particularly amongst the young, strong and beautiful. Humanity adapted, as it always did and already blood banks were overflowing with volunteers. Donating regularly was an insurance policy against the unthinkable and many lives were saved by the hospital's sky high - but nevertheless barely adequate - blood stocks. Willow was fine with that. Let them patch one another up only to be fed from - or worse - again and again. Let them feel like they were achieving something and scoring a point against adversity. Anyone who fell into the clutches of one of her followers would learn very quickly exactly how pointless human endeavour truly was against the might of immortal vampires with super-human strength, speed, agility... and depravity. Humans' lives were fleeting breeding and dying like vermin. No human was to be turned without her express approval, since turning humans into the undead really only increased competition in the long term. Any human who was turned had to already have been subjugated into the obedient slave of an existing vampire. They were tattooed about the throat with the name of their owner and that owner was responsible for keeping them in check. No single vampire could have more than 3 slaves and Willow did not intend for the vampiric population of Sunnydale to increase above 30 of the human population - a population which had taken quite a recent dent. Walking Happy Meals had to be plentiful or the vampires would swiftly turn upon themselves, undoing her work and destroying her vision of the future. Any vampire who trespassed on another's property had to forfeit their own slaves and in severe cases become in turn the property of Willow herself. Already it seemed as though she would never have enough of the most loyal acolytes to ensure her every command was carried out promptly. Her acolytes swiftly broke and bridled her acquisitions from inter-vampiric property disputes. Willow received extravagant gifts and donations from the oldest vampire houses and even those who were privately sceptical of her paid monetary lip-service while her dark star was ascending. One such gift was the mansion that now served as her base of operations. By human standards it was derelict but vampires preferred boarded windows and had no use for heating or other modern conveniences. The building was structurally sound, boasted extensive cellars and even a few very recently excavated oubliettes, while inside candles and oil lamps provided the kind of low lighting that vampires tolerated. The furniture was ornate and antique and if the fabrics were a little dusty and ragged, they served their purpose appearing rich and sumptuous in the soft, flickering light. Willow stalked up to her master bedroom, where a naked teenage girl was hunched in a corner, sobbing. Her minions had tenderised this one but it remained intact... internally as well as externally. Willow wasn't hungry but she was restless and she knew that this one would taste sweet, young and unsullied as it was. She took in the young blonde's slim curves and chuckled when she saw where a crucifix shaped burn was seared into her dcolletage. Incredible what some people thought would protect them. Even now it was twisting its fingers pointlessly into a cross. Willow crowded the girl into her corner and licked from the burn at her throat up to the salt of her tears. The girl's palpable fear caused Willow's face to transform, revealing her fangs. She ignored everything the girl said and did, lifting her slight form bodily from the hardwood floor and then slamming it down again, knocking the fight out of her. It's ok... I've fed tonight. She said reassuringly, before parting the girl's legs and pinning her thighs down with her considerable superior strength. But there's always room for dessert. She admitted. Willow sank her fangs into the girl's mound, not trying to feed but just to pull enough that it would be hard for her prey to dislodge her. Willow's tongue snaked out and flicked directly against the teenager's exposed mound, lashing over it ferociously and gripping its asscheeks while it bucked, fought and screamed. She persevered until the screams cracked and became despairing, pitiful moans of capitulation and self-loathing. Grinning sadistically into the juicy little cunt she was devouring, Willow growled and picked up the pace further.