The Terror At Sunshine Hill ~ page 3
Chooli
starts to jerk away but stills as the pain flares up in her wrist at the
movement. She winces slightly as he takes her arm and starts to wrap her wrist.
She studies his movements, she studies him. When he is finished she is
surprised at how good a job he does. She still should have boneset though, and
willow would probably not hurt either. She sighs very quietly. She will
probably get neither here or from him.
She pretty much tunes him out until the words ‘Death Walkers’ enters his speech. Her head jerks up to look at him with narrowed eyes. She knew the White Man words, for they had been warned about them. She studies him closer yet. Things start to click into place, his chilly touch, his paleness, his voice in her mind, his strength. Her eyes suddenly widen and she draws back from him. Scrabbling as far as her bonds would allow her.
Whitaker laughs, a mocking laughter that echoes throughout the crypt.
'Now you know...' he said, speaking to her thoughts once more. 'You know exactly what I am. You know what I could do to you.' It was an empty threat, at least so far. He had designs far greater than simply killing her or using her for her blood until she went dry.
'You can continue to fight, if you wish...' he said. 'In fact, I would prefer you do. It makes the blood so much hotter.'
His hands snaked out, grabbing the front of her shirt. He tore it free, exposing her dark flesh to the cold air of the tomb. He tossed it aside, almost casually, then reached down, taking her dress and doing the same. Within a few moments, she was sitting naked before him, cowering still, as his eyes roamed her body.
'Your people think my kind are unliving, unfeeling monsters...' he said, smirking. 'But our bodies are quite alive, thanks to the blood we take. And there are just some human desires that we cannot go without.'
She flinches from his laughter and his words once more in her head. He was a Wicate Mani, one of the Walking Dead. They were evil creatures that would kill others by draining them of their blood in some way that left no noticeable marks on the body. She pressed back into the wall at her back, desperately wishing she could join it and escape him. She gives a startled screech when he rips her top off, and tries to struggle with the loosing of her skirt.
She shivers in the cold and with the cold stone now kissing her back. His next words leave her not only wide eyed but frantically shaking her head at the implications he is making. She cannot press back any further as she cowers away from him and tries to cover her nudity with her arms.
Whitaker reaches out, taking her uninjured arm into his grasp. He bends low, like a rattlesnake striking, his fangs sinking into her flesh. He takes just enough to cloud her mind, careful not to take too much. He'd already fed from her once this night, and if he wasn't careful, he could easily kill her by taking too much. He pulled back a moment later, grinning, his mouth stained with blood.
'Yes...' he said, the word sounding like a hissing serpent in her mind. 'The Wicate Mani. You know the legends well. And yet you continue to deny me, to fight against me, even knowing what I am. Wouldn't it be so much easier to submit?'
He releases her wrist and moves his hand between her legs, the scent of her earlier arousal still clinging to her thighs. He finds her slit, his fingers trailing up it slowly, until he finds the tiny nub of flesh at the top. He presses against it, gently, enough to incite her arousal once more. His other hand rises to caress her long, dark hair, and he smiles once again.
'You are a beautiful thing...' he said, his words a whisper in her mind. 'I just hope that I need not mar your beauty to get your attention.'
She tries to pull her arm from his grasp, but he is too strong, too fast. Her mind becomes blurry, like it has been stuffed with the soft moss used in the Women’s Lodge for their Moon Time. She knows there’s something important she should be remembering, but she can’t. Then his voice in her mind once more. She latches onto Wicate Mani. Yes, something about them, and her, and…
Her mind drifts again, unable to keep a hold of the thoughts as he finds her womanhood and runs a finger along it to that sensitive button and starts to play with it. Warmth and moisture escapes her slit and she moans ever so softly. She can feel his hand on her hair and her head turns slightly towards it. Somewhere far back in her mind a voice screams at her to pay attention, she is in extreme danger, but it is too distant for her to grasp.
Whitaker sees her body respond to his touch in a far more pleasant way than it had, and he chuckles quietly. He presses his lips to her own, his hands still exploring her body, while his own hard form begins to grow more rigid in anticipation of what was to come. His flesh was cooler than a living, mortal form would be, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant, at least in her addled, clouded mind.
'It feels good, doesn't it Chooli?' he asked, his words caressing her mind like a gentle lover. 'I am not a monster. I can be a gentle lover, and accept you for what you are. Your tribe cannot do that for you. They want you to remarry, to accept a man that you care nothing for. I can make you love me, all with but a touch...'
To accentuate his point, he slid a finger inside of her warm, wet folds, feeling the nectar of her desire hot on his flesh. His free hand began to tug and remove his own clothing, and soon, his pale, hard form was bare, and pressed against her own.
She responded to his kiss hungrily. It had been so long since she’d been with someone. Her hands moved and came in contact with his body. The course and strange material under her hands set off alarms way far in the back of her head, in about the same location as the voice that still frantically called out to her. But like the voice, it wasn’t enough to grab her attention in her fogged state.
His voice though, his voice was prominent in her mind, and she responded to it. “Ha, lila waste. (Yes, very good.) Iyepi ci mitawa zaniya. (They want my wellbeing.)” Her voice was soft and full of desire as she spoke. A moan quickly following her words as his finger entered her. Her hips rocked forward slightly. As he started to remove his clothes, her hands helped him out and soon were roaming over his naked chest and back. Her upper body presses against his, her want clear.
'They want you gone from them...' he replied, his words slithering into her thoughts. His fingers began to delve in and out of her warm cunt, while her hot flesh pressed against his body. 'You are a burden to them...but not to me, Chooli. I will never turn you away. I will never reject you.'
He pressed his lips to her neck, his free hand rising to caress her tanned breast. His erection was cool and hard as it pressed against her thigh, and he moaned as he tasted her flesh. While he had his way with her body, his fingers increasing their rhythm as they danced inside of her, his mind continued its assault on her thoughts, twisting her memories to suit his own desires.
He started subtly, showing her images of her past, her family and the blankets they were wrapped in that had given them smallpox. He showed her the tribal elders talking with the White Men who had traded the blankets, and he showed her the look of disdain the elders gave her husband and child as they turned their gaze upon them. His mind assaulted her own with other images, visions of Whitaker killing the white trader, drinking his blood and throwing his corpse down a nearby gully. He showed her mind's eye flickering visions of her tribe's elders standing near the graves of her family, while likewise shaking hands with more of the White Men.
Then, he brought her back to the present, his mind pulling away from her own while his fingers delved deeper into her.
"I can complete you..." he said, his lips hovering near her own. "Succumb to the pleasure, Chooli...and I will give you peace."
Chooli moaned again at his words, her hips matching the rhythm of his fingers. She felt tingles through her body from his kiss, his hard cock against her leg sent more chills through her. Her head at first moved back and forth in denial of the images assaulting her mind. But as they continued and by the time they were over her head had stopped moving. His voice twined through her mind, caressing, insinuating, coaxing, by the time he was done speaking, she moaned softly. “Iyokipi. (Please.)” The voice and alarm bells gained a bit of volume slightly. She started struggling against his hold. It was feeble, but an effort none-the-less.
She was struggling against his influence, straining to retain her own memories. It was entirely involuntary, her mind resisting what it knew was an outside force, and what it knew wasn't true. He had to act, and quickly, to drown out that little voice inside of her that was screaming at her to fight against his influence.
He slid behind her, his wet fingers sliding from her opening. Pushing her forward slightly, he slid inside of her, his hard cock pushing deeply into her hot, wet core. He moaned at the feeling of her tight sex enveloping him, drawing him inward as hungrily as he pushed into her. His hands slid around beneath her, cupping her breasts, while his hips began to move back and forth.
"Don't resist, Chooli..." he said, his stomach curling as he leaned forward to press his lips to her shoulder. "Give into the pleasure. Succumb to the comfort you know I can give you..."
She whimpered at the loss of his fingers inside her. Her body bucked trying to find them again. Her head shook negatively as she fought his influence while her body craved it desperately. She was at war with her own self, and there was no give to either side. It had been too long since she’d felt the touch of a lover, and yet her knowledge of the legends of her people wouldn’t give ground either.
The moment his hard shaft entered her tight tunnel, her body won ground in the struggle against her mind. She moaned louder, her hips pushy back into him to drive hem deeper. Her hips matched his easily in the rhythm he set, tension building inside her, through her, all around her. She moaned again, sinking into the pleasure.
She didn’t understand his words, but the sound of his voice defeated the alarms in her head finally. She moves faster, need suddenly strong in her as the war is ended. Her body shudders at the touch of his hand and lips. Her womanhood starts becoming very slick with her honey. "Jeremiah Whitaker." His name is mingled with a soft moan, she knows who has her.
The vampire chuckled as she moaned his name. His influence on her thoughts and her body were mingling into a loss of her sense of self. A part of her was still defying him, or wanted to, but every time he felt in rise in her mind, that tiny voice of sanity screaming at her to snap out of it, he just drove harder into her wet opening, pushing away that denial. But he knew that this was only the first step. If he were to truly claim her as his own, he would need to further bury away that voice of reason, and to make her his own.
One hand rose up her back and grabbed a thick handful of her long, dark hair. He pulled her head back, raising her gaze as he pounded away into her. His preternatural stamina was such that he could fuck her for hours, but he knew that her body likely wouldn't last the experience. Humans were frail, soft things, especially when compared to the hard and durable bodies of a vampire.
"Chooli..." he said, moaning as he filled her again and again, his rhythm increasing. The heat of her body was rising with her pleasure, and while he couldn't match her body temperature with his own dead form, he could more than match her desire. He leaned toward her ear, rising to his feet to crouch at her backside as he continued to pummel her. "I want to hear you moan, Chooli...now, louder. Let your voice echo off these walls."
She pretty much tunes him out until the words ‘Death Walkers’ enters his speech. Her head jerks up to look at him with narrowed eyes. She knew the White Man words, for they had been warned about them. She studies him closer yet. Things start to click into place, his chilly touch, his paleness, his voice in her mind, his strength. Her eyes suddenly widen and she draws back from him. Scrabbling as far as her bonds would allow her.
Whitaker laughs, a mocking laughter that echoes throughout the crypt.
'Now you know...' he said, speaking to her thoughts once more. 'You know exactly what I am. You know what I could do to you.' It was an empty threat, at least so far. He had designs far greater than simply killing her or using her for her blood until she went dry.
'You can continue to fight, if you wish...' he said. 'In fact, I would prefer you do. It makes the blood so much hotter.'
His hands snaked out, grabbing the front of her shirt. He tore it free, exposing her dark flesh to the cold air of the tomb. He tossed it aside, almost casually, then reached down, taking her dress and doing the same. Within a few moments, she was sitting naked before him, cowering still, as his eyes roamed her body.
'Your people think my kind are unliving, unfeeling monsters...' he said, smirking. 'But our bodies are quite alive, thanks to the blood we take. And there are just some human desires that we cannot go without.'
She flinches from his laughter and his words once more in her head. He was a Wicate Mani, one of the Walking Dead. They were evil creatures that would kill others by draining them of their blood in some way that left no noticeable marks on the body. She pressed back into the wall at her back, desperately wishing she could join it and escape him. She gives a startled screech when he rips her top off, and tries to struggle with the loosing of her skirt.
She shivers in the cold and with the cold stone now kissing her back. His next words leave her not only wide eyed but frantically shaking her head at the implications he is making. She cannot press back any further as she cowers away from him and tries to cover her nudity with her arms.
Whitaker reaches out, taking her uninjured arm into his grasp. He bends low, like a rattlesnake striking, his fangs sinking into her flesh. He takes just enough to cloud her mind, careful not to take too much. He'd already fed from her once this night, and if he wasn't careful, he could easily kill her by taking too much. He pulled back a moment later, grinning, his mouth stained with blood.
'Yes...' he said, the word sounding like a hissing serpent in her mind. 'The Wicate Mani. You know the legends well. And yet you continue to deny me, to fight against me, even knowing what I am. Wouldn't it be so much easier to submit?'
He releases her wrist and moves his hand between her legs, the scent of her earlier arousal still clinging to her thighs. He finds her slit, his fingers trailing up it slowly, until he finds the tiny nub of flesh at the top. He presses against it, gently, enough to incite her arousal once more. His other hand rises to caress her long, dark hair, and he smiles once again.
'You are a beautiful thing...' he said, his words a whisper in her mind. 'I just hope that I need not mar your beauty to get your attention.'
She tries to pull her arm from his grasp, but he is too strong, too fast. Her mind becomes blurry, like it has been stuffed with the soft moss used in the Women’s Lodge for their Moon Time. She knows there’s something important she should be remembering, but she can’t. Then his voice in her mind once more. She latches onto Wicate Mani. Yes, something about them, and her, and…
Her mind drifts again, unable to keep a hold of the thoughts as he finds her womanhood and runs a finger along it to that sensitive button and starts to play with it. Warmth and moisture escapes her slit and she moans ever so softly. She can feel his hand on her hair and her head turns slightly towards it. Somewhere far back in her mind a voice screams at her to pay attention, she is in extreme danger, but it is too distant for her to grasp.
Whitaker sees her body respond to his touch in a far more pleasant way than it had, and he chuckles quietly. He presses his lips to her own, his hands still exploring her body, while his own hard form begins to grow more rigid in anticipation of what was to come. His flesh was cooler than a living, mortal form would be, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant, at least in her addled, clouded mind.
'It feels good, doesn't it Chooli?' he asked, his words caressing her mind like a gentle lover. 'I am not a monster. I can be a gentle lover, and accept you for what you are. Your tribe cannot do that for you. They want you to remarry, to accept a man that you care nothing for. I can make you love me, all with but a touch...'
To accentuate his point, he slid a finger inside of her warm, wet folds, feeling the nectar of her desire hot on his flesh. His free hand began to tug and remove his own clothing, and soon, his pale, hard form was bare, and pressed against her own.
She responded to his kiss hungrily. It had been so long since she’d been with someone. Her hands moved and came in contact with his body. The course and strange material under her hands set off alarms way far in the back of her head, in about the same location as the voice that still frantically called out to her. But like the voice, it wasn’t enough to grab her attention in her fogged state.
His voice though, his voice was prominent in her mind, and she responded to it. “Ha, lila waste. (Yes, very good.) Iyepi ci mitawa zaniya. (They want my wellbeing.)” Her voice was soft and full of desire as she spoke. A moan quickly following her words as his finger entered her. Her hips rocked forward slightly. As he started to remove his clothes, her hands helped him out and soon were roaming over his naked chest and back. Her upper body presses against his, her want clear.
'They want you gone from them...' he replied, his words slithering into her thoughts. His fingers began to delve in and out of her warm cunt, while her hot flesh pressed against his body. 'You are a burden to them...but not to me, Chooli. I will never turn you away. I will never reject you.'
He pressed his lips to her neck, his free hand rising to caress her tanned breast. His erection was cool and hard as it pressed against her thigh, and he moaned as he tasted her flesh. While he had his way with her body, his fingers increasing their rhythm as they danced inside of her, his mind continued its assault on her thoughts, twisting her memories to suit his own desires.
He started subtly, showing her images of her past, her family and the blankets they were wrapped in that had given them smallpox. He showed her the tribal elders talking with the White Men who had traded the blankets, and he showed her the look of disdain the elders gave her husband and child as they turned their gaze upon them. His mind assaulted her own with other images, visions of Whitaker killing the white trader, drinking his blood and throwing his corpse down a nearby gully. He showed her mind's eye flickering visions of her tribe's elders standing near the graves of her family, while likewise shaking hands with more of the White Men.
Then, he brought her back to the present, his mind pulling away from her own while his fingers delved deeper into her.
"I can complete you..." he said, his lips hovering near her own. "Succumb to the pleasure, Chooli...and I will give you peace."
Chooli moaned again at his words, her hips matching the rhythm of his fingers. She felt tingles through her body from his kiss, his hard cock against her leg sent more chills through her. Her head at first moved back and forth in denial of the images assaulting her mind. But as they continued and by the time they were over her head had stopped moving. His voice twined through her mind, caressing, insinuating, coaxing, by the time he was done speaking, she moaned softly. “Iyokipi. (Please.)” The voice and alarm bells gained a bit of volume slightly. She started struggling against his hold. It was feeble, but an effort none-the-less.
She was struggling against his influence, straining to retain her own memories. It was entirely involuntary, her mind resisting what it knew was an outside force, and what it knew wasn't true. He had to act, and quickly, to drown out that little voice inside of her that was screaming at her to fight against his influence.
He slid behind her, his wet fingers sliding from her opening. Pushing her forward slightly, he slid inside of her, his hard cock pushing deeply into her hot, wet core. He moaned at the feeling of her tight sex enveloping him, drawing him inward as hungrily as he pushed into her. His hands slid around beneath her, cupping her breasts, while his hips began to move back and forth.
"Don't resist, Chooli..." he said, his stomach curling as he leaned forward to press his lips to her shoulder. "Give into the pleasure. Succumb to the comfort you know I can give you..."
She whimpered at the loss of his fingers inside her. Her body bucked trying to find them again. Her head shook negatively as she fought his influence while her body craved it desperately. She was at war with her own self, and there was no give to either side. It had been too long since she’d felt the touch of a lover, and yet her knowledge of the legends of her people wouldn’t give ground either.
The moment his hard shaft entered her tight tunnel, her body won ground in the struggle against her mind. She moaned louder, her hips pushy back into him to drive hem deeper. Her hips matched his easily in the rhythm he set, tension building inside her, through her, all around her. She moaned again, sinking into the pleasure.
She didn’t understand his words, but the sound of his voice defeated the alarms in her head finally. She moves faster, need suddenly strong in her as the war is ended. Her body shudders at the touch of his hand and lips. Her womanhood starts becoming very slick with her honey. "Jeremiah Whitaker." His name is mingled with a soft moan, she knows who has her.
The vampire chuckled as she moaned his name. His influence on her thoughts and her body were mingling into a loss of her sense of self. A part of her was still defying him, or wanted to, but every time he felt in rise in her mind, that tiny voice of sanity screaming at her to snap out of it, he just drove harder into her wet opening, pushing away that denial. But he knew that this was only the first step. If he were to truly claim her as his own, he would need to further bury away that voice of reason, and to make her his own.
One hand rose up her back and grabbed a thick handful of her long, dark hair. He pulled her head back, raising her gaze as he pounded away into her. His preternatural stamina was such that he could fuck her for hours, but he knew that her body likely wouldn't last the experience. Humans were frail, soft things, especially when compared to the hard and durable bodies of a vampire.
"Chooli..." he said, moaning as he filled her again and again, his rhythm increasing. The heat of her body was rising with her pleasure, and while he couldn't match her body temperature with his own dead form, he could more than match her desire. He leaned toward her ear, rising to his feet to crouch at her backside as he continued to pummel her. "I want to hear you moan, Chooli...now, louder. Let your voice echo off these walls."