Chapter 4 The Countess
The Countess
There are many things one can do to cause another living creature pain.
I have spent lifetimes watching beautiful creatures suffer beneath me, and yet, I’ve come to the conclusion that isolation is truly far more dangerous to one’s overall well-being than any form of physical torture.
Especially for a creature such as myself.
You see, my beautiful friend, I am not like you. You are plump, pretty, alive. You’re just like a beautiful flower blooming in a garden—full of brightness and vitality. I was once that way.
Until Eleanor.
It was her death that allowed me to truly flourish in my own way, to bloom into what I was meant to be—something strong, something wild, something completely…unholy. A devil with a pretty face and a wicked appetite.
I never abided by the notion that women should be seen and never heard.
I was not meant to be docile and domesticated.
I’d spent so long longing for power, for the freedom of an eternity without being subjected to the whims of a weak man; and the answer to my prayers, you see, was quite simple.
A deal made in the darkness, signed in the blood of my slain lover, and the simple selling of a soul was all it took.
And then I became something spectacular, my sweet friend.
I became the beautiful nightmare that haunted villages and left a wake of desolation behind me everywhere I went.
I was free of the chains of humanity that once bound my shitty soul.
I became a monster.
My first meal was the same husband who had betrayed and mistreated me.
His blood was as foul as he had been, but even his filthy lifeforce was invigorating, intoxicating, incredible.
After that, I lived for lifetimes, never aging, wandering the world as a monster of the night.
I tasted sweet young things with blood so pure and fresh it nearly knocked me over.
I feasted on flesh rich and deep with age and experience.
At times, I ate what was necessary to survive, but when I could, I always preferred a plump young virgin.
Virgin blood is just so very fresh. Plus, corrupting a sweet young thing, getting them writhing beneath me in ecstasy to warm their blood before I feast, is truly the greatest pleasure I’ve ever enjoyed.
I’ve taken many a young woman’s first orgasm before taking her life.
And I’ve enjoyed every fucking second of it.
And then it all came to a screeching halt.
The sex, the blood, the power—all gone in but the blink of an eye.
When he found me, I was at the height of my reign of terror.
He tricked me, fooled me, trapped me. He cursed me to a torturous eternity of isolation.
I might be a creature from the pits of Hell itself, but Rutherford fucking Venom is a true sadist. I’m a creature that feeds on the life of others.
I need humans in order to maintain my beauty, my youth, my vitality.
And he took that from me, left me to haunt the halls of this fucking manor with nothing but other monsters to keep me company.
He abandoned me to slowly wither away. Just one more man who uses women, lying to them before breaking them.
And one day, I will get my revenge for the pain he puts me through each and every day, just you wait and watch, my sweet friend.
And yet, death was only the beginning.
Because just as I’d considered giving up hope, of letting my wallowing pity pull me under, you arrived.
Your beauty filled this morbid manor with light I had not seen in decades.
You, my little morsel, are true temptation.
Your full curves and pale skin are my favorite type of indulgence.
I watch in the low light of the flickering candles as your purple veins pump fresh blood through your body.
My mouth waters at the sight, and the urge to sink my fangs into the pristine skin of your bountiful breasts is damn near maddening.
I need to taste you.
But I can’t. My cursed existence leaves me lurking in the shadows outside of this plane of existence. You can feel me, hear me, even see me in a reflection, but I can’t touch you, my sweet girl. Not unless you invite me to come play. And you will be inviting me.
I may be bound to the shadows, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.
Lounging on the bed, you tilt your head back to take a long sip from your goblet.
The column of your neck expands, and I watch greedily as you swallow down the liquid.
The way your throat works, the muscles pulling, the skin rippling, makes my thighs clench in anticipation of what’s to come.
I can’t wait to taste you, my little morsel.
“Truth or dare?” the blonde little one with the shrill voice asks you as you continue your drunken game, unaware of my presence.
“Truth,” you state as red rims your beautiful lips. Fuck, your lips are pretty. They look full and soft, perfect for devouring cunt.
“Okay.” Blondie seems to think it through, weighing her options. “Do you prefer kissing men or women?”
“Women,” you state without faltering. “They’re so much more attentive and eager. Men are shit kissers compared to girls.”
Good answer, little morsel.
“What do you mean, more eager?” Your friend asks as she takes another drink of liquor. I can taste her lustful intentions. I’ve been filling both your heads since you arrived. And now I’m ready for a show.
You seem to ponder for a moment, but I can feel the slight uptick in your heart rate.
“Women want to revel in your kiss, to kiss and be kissed. Men want to appease you until they can stick their dick in you. And, don’t get me wrong, I do love a good cock, but sometimes you just want more, you know? ”
She glances anywhere but at you, because she does know. She’s curious. I’m filling her mind with need, but I can only enhance what’s already there. Pretty pink princess wants to be a dirty girl. Deep down, they always do.
“That sounds kinda nice,” is all she manages to say, but you’re smart.
“Truth or dare, Carey?” you say with a slightly lowering in your tone, your voice becoming huskier with desire.
“Dare.”
“Let me kiss you?” You state it as a question despite the clear guidelines of the game. My consent queen—what a true lady you are, my sweet girl.
“Okay.” The other girl gives in to your request as you both place your wine glasses on the wooden surface of the dresser next to you.
I can feel the racing beat of both your hearts, the way your blood is rushing through your veins.
I can see the flush of both your skin as you prowl across the bed towards her until you’ve caged her between your arms. She pushes her chest out, an invitation.
The first kiss is gentle, soft, quick. You lean across her, pressing your lips against hers to let her feel the softness of your touch.
She stiffens, then relaxes when she finds she enjoys it.
Before you’re able to pull back fully, she’s on you.
Her lips find yours, pressing against you in desperation.
Her hand lands on the back of your head, dragging you deeper into the kiss.
You moan, and I can see, even from here, that your tongues are caressing one another.
Part of me is so very turned on from watching the two of you; the other is exceptionally jealous.
Why should she get to taste you, my little morsel, while I’m stuck here in the shadows?
“Wow,” she says as she finally pulls back.
You sit back on your legs and take a swig of wine. Your friend runs her little fingers across her swollen lips.
“See? It’s more fun with girls,” you tell her as you squeeze your thighs to ebb the ache growing there.
“Are other things more fun with girls, too?” Blondie asks as I fill her head with thoughts of pleasure.
I watch you swallow deeply. The lines of your neck are aching for my teeth, or maybe my teeth are aching for you, my little morsel.
“Girls are better at eating pussy.” Your voice is so deep, so husky as lust threatens to pull you under.
“Men suck at eating cunt. Too desperate to get their dicks wet.”
“I’ve never done that before,” she whispers as she averts her gaze. “I’d probably suck at it.” Her cheeks flush, and I notice you stare. Your pupils dilate. Your breaths become short and staccato.
“I could teach you,” you suggest as I sit on the edge of my seat, both desperate and despising the idea of her eating you out. I’d love to watch you writhing in desperate pleasure, but it should be me bringing you to the edge.
You’re mine to consume, my little morsel.
You move to lift your shirt up and over your head, your dark waves falling down your back and contrasting against your pale skin.
A fucking goddess stands before the surface of the mirror, which has my soul entrapped within, staring straight back at me.
The most beautiful creature I’ve seen in centuries—in lifetimes.
Ripe, plump breasts bared proudly, you begin to disrobe completely.
Your pretty pink nipples stiffen in response to the cool air.
I desperately want to suck one in my mouth and flick the tight tip until it’s firm and aching for me.
A patch of dark hair sits in a triangle above the apex of your thick thighs.
I’m eager to rub the coarse hair, feel it contrast with the soft warmth of your folds below.
Your body is absolute perfection—soft and smooth and full.
There’s not a single inch of you, my lovely girl, that I don’t wish to worship with my mouth. If only I could.
“Take your dress off,” you command once naked.
Your friend has not taken her eyes off you for a moment, and I can’t blame her—you're radiant. She immediately obeys. Desperate slut. Standing and slipping her dress down over her hips, her tiny little breasts pop free. They’re perky but nothing compared to yours.
You move to sit on the edge of the bed, and I watch enraptured as you splay your knees wide. Your juicy pussy comes into view, and I nearly tear myself apart trying to get through the barrier to taste you. But I can’t. I’m trapped. I can not leave this plane unless invited.
“On your knees,” you demand. Your power is intoxicating. I want your submission, crave it. “Crawl to me.”
Uncertainty flickers across the blonde’s face.
She seems uptight. I like her less with each passing moment.
Yet, eventually her curiosity and desire override her pride.
She sinks to her knees and then crawls. The lace undergarments she’s wearing barely cover her flat ass as she attempts to seductively drag herself across the floor towards my awaiting feast of flesh.
“Now what?” she questions as she settles back on her folded legs between your open things. Her eyes stay fixated on your dripping folds.
“Kiss my thighs—slowly, softly. But don’t you dare lick my pussy yet, skank,” you demand as you lean back to watch.
Her desperation is apparent as she squirms, attempting desperately to curb the ache between her legs. Her mouth is on you in an instant, kissing you slowly. You let out a moan that travels straight to my own cunt.
“Such a good girl,” you praise as you move her hair from off her face. “Nice and gentle. Now slowly kiss along my outer lips, but don’t dip deeper.”
She hums her acknowledgment before her head buries itself between your thighs. Your beautiful breasts heave as you try to contain your lust and move slowly. Your hips begin to lift off the bed, but you restrain yourself.
“That’s it,” you grit out between panting breaths. “Tease me, you fucking slut. Trying to make me beg for your tongue, aren’t you?”
The blonde grunts and her hand falls between her thighs before she buries her head deeper into your cunt. You suck in a sharp breath that turns quickly into a moan. Then your hands slip into her sunny locks.
“Fuck, baby,” you moan. “You’re a fast learner.”
Your moans of pleasure are too much to bear.
I can’t take another moment. With what strength I have left, I force your eyes to mine.
Your pupils widen and your hooded lids fly open as you take in my form in the mirror—my true form, not the apparition stalking the shadows but the true monster from the depths of Hell.
“I want a taste, little morsel,” I coo across your mind as your eyes latch onto mine. “Won’t you invite me to come play?”
Your fingers tighten in her hair, pulling the oblivious slut deeper into your slit. Nodding briefly, you agree. But it’s not enough.
“Say it,” I demand as you start to roll your hips, using her for your pleasure. “Say you want me to come join.”
“Please,” you whimper as your thighs clench. “Come play with us, mistress.”
A satisfied smirk pulls at my dry lips at your words. You’ve made me so happy, my friend. Because for the first time in decades, I’m no longer just a ghost.