Vampire's Key - Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Three floors beneath the soft, rolling hills of south-east England, Katie sat at her vanity. It was an old desk, painted in mint with a triple mirror, its top delicately carved as though a wave had been frozen as it passed by. She dabbed foundation onto her cheeks, blending it across the smooth curves of her cheekbones. She smiled inwardly at the images reflected in the mirrors.

Thick smoke suffused the room, its warm, flowery scents from homemade incense laced heavily with marijuana. A subtle draught pushed the cloud gently around the room. It moved like an amorphous spirit, trapped and eternally searching for an exit. Dancing flames brushed a tapestry of shadowy illumination across smooth rag-stone walls reinforced with unseen concrete.

The room was cool, warmed only by the presence of the stoned, naked male who lay upon a plush duvet coloured garnet and rose, his eyes closed. His head rested upon plump pillows of bubblegum and hot pink. He had been... enjoyable. Better than mediocre, as the last one had been, but not as intense as the one before. No, this one was enjoyable, she thought. Enjoyable because he was a novice and she had switched between the role of seductive mistress and innocent young girl as she pleased, manipulating him to dance to her erotic tune. Her mind retraced recent events as she savoured the sight of his firm naked body.

His accent was typical of Estuary English; dropping word endings and missing letters. “Why d’you want me to strip off?” he’d asked.

“I just do,” Katie replied, running her hands from her knees to the tops of her thigh-high boots. They were new, black and made from artificial leather.

“You first,” he’d challenged, hoping she’d lose her blouse and short skirt, but keep the long black boots.

Katie laughed. “Are you afraid?”

He snorted. “No!”

Katie’s tone changed to that of a pleading schoolgirl. “Please. For me...”

He shook his head.

“It’s just a game,” Katie said, as his protests began to irritate. Her voice softened. “I thought you wanted me?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s play a game,” she suggested. She pushed him back onto the bed, already pulling an arm free of his jacket. Gradually, and despite his protests, she’d stripped him until only his jeans and underwear remained. Her soft-yet-strong hands ran over his rounded shoulders and down over his firm, athletic stomach, where they lingered just above his crotch. Her thumb pulled on his belt, tantalisingly close to his hardening penis.

“Your turn,” he said, obstinately crossing his arms.

Katie smiled and kissed him. They were soft kisses at first, delicate and thoughtful, then stronger and more passionate; her tongue flicked hard and fast against his. Her hands moved to his thighs as she sat beside him on the bed. She knew he was hard, his lower energy centres flashed and throbbed with sparks that licked outwards like hungry flames. “Let me get changed,” she suggested, suddenly getting up and disappearing into the en suite. “I want you naked when I return, though,” she called out before closing the door. She opened it again, adding in a lighter, more sensual tone that was almost an orgasmic gasp, “I’m so horny.” She blew him a kiss and closed the door again. When she returned he was naked.

“I thought you were gettin’ changed,” he said, his hands covering his privates.

“Shh,” Katie dismissed as she picked up his clothes and placed them in a trunk at the bottom of the bed.

He frowned. “What are you doin’?”

She snapped the coded padlock shut, then stood before him, hands on her hips. Her long boots hugged her legs, slipping above the knee where they stopped below exposed thighs veiled in black nylon. A cream blouse, long-sleeved and bowed at the neck, was tucked into her black mini skirt.

“I said, what—”

Katie shook her head, dismissing his question before he’d even asked it. “Stand,” she instructed.

“What?” He didn’t move. His hands remained resolutely over his groin.

“Stand.”

“Why?”

“God! I hope you are not like this all night. I want a really good fuck and all you do is ask questions!” She went to the door, opened it dramatically and added, “Maybe you should just go and I will sort myself out.”

“No,” he said, sliding off the bed. “It’s okay.” His hands still covered himself, but he got up and stood before her. “I just wanted to know why, that’s all. It’s okay, we can play a game. What d’you wanna do?”

Closing the door, Katie returned to the centre of the room. He moved towards her. Expecting to hold her in his arms, his hands dropped from his groin. She stepped backwards, her movement too fast for him to comprehend. He frowned and took another step. A look of puzzlement swept across his face as Katie reappeared behind him.

She moved again, sweeping past him to stand once more in front. “Good boy,” she said, her eyes perusing the naked footballer’s body. His firm chest and broad shoulders formed a natural armour of muscle across the top of his body. Meaty biceps fed down to tough lower arms and broad hands that rested beside strong, tight thighs. He had footballer legs, fit and handsome with good muscle tone, that had seen plenty of matches despite his young age. Her gaze fell to the V of his pelvis that pointed to his thick, semi-hard penis and low-hanging balls. His light brown pubic hair was nicely trimmed, which pleased Katie.

He looked away. His arms hung limply at his sides, his fingers and thumbs rubbing nervously together. “I, er, I … I’ve never done this before,” he admitted. He bit his lip. His eyes flashed at her, then down at the floor.

Amused by his awkwardness, Katie repressed a smile. This one was going to be fun, she thought. “Wank for me,” she said.

“What?” He frowned, looking back at her, uncertain if he’d heard her right.

“I want you to wank for me.”

He hesitated. “I thought we were going to—”

“Not yet. I want you to touch yourself. I want to see how you do it,” she declared. She bit the corner of her lip innocently. “Please?” she pined, the erotic innocence returning to her voice. “So I know what you like.”

He took a slow, deep breath and raised his eyebrows. His right hand dropped between his legs, wrapped around his hardening member and moved backwards to the base of his shaft. The foreskin slid downwards, exposing the pink-red head of his cock.

“Wait,” Katie said. He swallowed and stopped.

“What?”

“You need oil,” she explained, walking past him. She opened the bottom drawer of her vanity unit, selected a couple of bottles, chose one and returned to him, giving it a little shake, before popping the top. She could feel the heat emanating from his body as she stopped in front of him. His penis trembled and she carefully tilted the bottle, squeezing the clear liquid onto his long, rigid shaft.

He gasped as she reached out and soothed the oil over the top side of his member. Her face was inches from his. He could feel her cool breath and smell the gentle fragrance of her sweet perfume.

She looked up at him, then back down to his cock. Her thumb ran under his shaft as her fingers glided over the oil. “A little more,” she said softly, pouring more oil onto him. She stared back at him again, her dark eyes capturing his gaze as her fingers teased his hard member. Her lips pursed as if to kiss him.

He felt her other hand cup his balls, fingernails lightly scratched against the rough skin of his scrotum as she slowly stroked him. It was only a few torturously slow movements before she released him and stepped back to take a seat in a nearby chair.

“Carry on,” she said, making herself comfortable. She crossed her legs. Her short skirt rose a little higher, tempting the footballer with a glimpse of her black panties.

He took a deep breath and shot her an aroused, yet puzzled look.

“Wank, boy,” Katie insisted in a more dominant tone.

He sighed and his right hand reached for his cock again. He began to stroke, quickly picking up a good, healthy rhythm. His forearm swung as though counting time to a jazz tune.

“Slower,” Katie soothed.

“But I like this speed,” he replied.

Katie’s voice dropped to a smouldering whisper. “For me,” she moaned, running a hand over her breasts.

“How slow?”

Her response was shallow, a tentative yet seductive answer. “Very,” she whispered.

“Like this?” His hand descended, grinding its way slowly down to the base of his shaft, gradually exposing the tip, then the glans and corona.

“Yes.” Katie smiled, watching his hand work its way back to the head of his cock. “Like that.” Her nipples were hardening, mirroring his manhood. “Keep going,” she encouraged. She squeezed her thighs, pressing the lips of her wet pussy together.

“This is torture,” he gasped, repeating the hedonistic manoeuvre.

“I want to know,” Katie said, parting her legs and running her hands down her body to rest on her thighs, “how long you can last for me.”

He bit his lip again. He could see her panties clearly. Black. Lace. Thin. He wanted her. His hand drew his foreskin back to the base of his cock once more. He took a faltering breath. “I can’t,” he gasped, working his way slowly back to the tip. “I’m too horny.”

“You can,” Katie encouraged. “For me.” She pulled her short skirt upwards, exposing more of her black lace panties, allowing him to see the smooth, shaven lips of her wet pussy.

“Come here,” he said, releasing his cock. It sprung upwards, bouncing against his firm stomach as he moved towards her again.

Katie didn’t move and the footballer climbed onto her, pressing her into the chair and smothering her with desperate kisses. His hands were all over her body, groping rather than teasing. Poking instead of pleasuring. She forced him away, slipping out from beneath him and spinning him around to sit in the chair.

“You’re strong,” he noted, as she stood above him.

She moved closer, her skirt still high. Her black booted legs parted. Aching for her touch, his cock throbbed. “I am Russian,” she said. “We are all strong.” She pressed her thigh against his cock, locking it between the top of her boot and his abdomen.

“Careful,” he warned, as she pressed harder.

“Again,” she demanded, releasing him. “And count for me.”

“Count?” He frowned quizzically.

“Each stroke. I want you to make it to 500.”

“500? That’s impossible!”

Katie’s tone returned to that of an innocent young lady. “Please. Try for me. Then you can fuck me all night long.”

“500?”

Katie nodded, her lips pressed firmly together.

The footballer’s hand returned to his cock.

“Stand up,” Katie ordered.

Obediently he complied, taking a position in front of the chair once more.

“More oil?” Katie asked, grabbing the bottle and pouring the liquid onto him as he began to stroke. “One,” he said, closing his eyes. A look of concentration formed across his face. “Two.” Gradually his hand retracted his foreskin, exposing the crown. It slid downwards over the glossy oil, before returning to the tip. “Three.”

Katie felt her wet juices soak into her panties as she watched the boy count tentatively to ten, then to twenty. Thirty. Forty. His cock twitched at every stroke. His balls tightened beneath the base of his gleaming phallus. He leaned forward. His shoulders arching over his body. “41.” His hand slowed, as if any movement could set off a devastating explosion. “42.”

She moved to the bed. He turned to face her, still wanking. Her hand smoothed over her breast, palm brushing against a hard nipple, thumb pushing downwards. Her fingers retaliated with an upward stroke.

“43.” The footballer’s breath was shallow and weak. “44.” He swallowed, wetted his lips, then bit down on his top lip. His eyes closed. Opened. Closed again. “45. Oh god. Please,” he gasped.

Katie smiled. Energy dripped from the masturbating boy. The gaseous, astral fluid swarmed around him, expanding and contracting as Katie forced him closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.

“46.”

“Keep going,” Katie urged.

“I’m gonna come,” he moaned.

“Stop!” Katie barked, snapping his arm away before he realised she was beside him.

The boy’s gasps were shallow and constant. His hard-on twitched furiously, the bulbous head swollen bright purple. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. His shoulders were hunched forward. Muscles contracted as he braced himself for an orgasm that Katie denied. His narrow eyes glazed with frustrated expectation. Katie looked triumphantly over his shoulder. The solid member twitched uncontrollably as it sought her attention, the glistening head acting like a beacon searching for help.

“Please,” the boy gasped. He clasped his hands together, partly in supplication to Katie and partly to stop himself from finishing.

“Good boy,” Katie encouraged, stepping in front of him. “You’re learning.” She kissed him. It was a delicate, sensual kiss. His lips pressed back, hard and coarse and she pushed him away again. Forcing him back into the chair, she knelt down quickly, her face inches from his swollen member.

“Oh god! For fuck sake, suck me off!”

Katie shook her head. “You didn’t get to 500,” she cautioned, gently slapping his hard on. It swung back to hit his stomach before bouncing to its natural upright position.

“No. No more,” he said.

Katie laughed. “I need a smoke,” she stated, returning to the bed. “Roll me one.”

The boy let out an exasperated sigh and looked down at himself. “My balls are starting to hurt,” he groaned. “I need to cum.”

“Later,” she dismissed. “I want to have a smoke.”

“I need to cum,” he repeated, refusing to get up.

Katie’s gaze pushed into his mind. She got up again, walking slowly towards him. Her eyes locked on his, drawing his focus inwards. Katie’s voice became light and breathy. “You hear my voice and only my voice,” she said gently. “All you hear is my voice. You listen to my voice and my command. You do as I say. You do what I ask. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” “After you have rolled a joint,” she whispered, “you will do 500 slow strokes. Starting at one. You will retain your semen. You will last until I give you permission to cum. You will withhold your orgasm. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You are a good boy,” she soothed. “A good boy for your Mistress Katie. You are coming back to the room now. You will do as I say, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I will count from ten to one,” Katie said gently. “When you return to the room, you will roll me a spliff, light it and give it to me, then wank slowly to 500. Do you understand?”

“Yes. ”

Returning to sit on the bed, Katie counted backwards from ten to one. When she finished, the footballer walked silently over to the vanity table where he rolled Katie a joint, lit it and passed it to her, then stood in front of her again and began to count and wank as she had commanded. Katie pulled on the smoke while she watched him, inhaled deeply and held it in her lungs for a few moments before exhaling a thick stream of smoky gas.

“Slower,” she instructed, squeezing her thighs together again. The flesh pressed against her hot pussy. She felt so wet and horny and thought about how he would feel inside her — the strength of his rod, the heat he would bring to her. The fire and power of his hard body and harder cock. The feel of his balls bouncing against her as he took her on the edge of the bed.

She got up and pressed the joint to his mouth. He took a long tug on the smoke, then let it out. His thighs tightened, repressing the overt arousal of having her so close again. “Slower,” she instructed, holding the spliff to his mouth again. Obediently he slowed, inhaled, then exhaled another long blast of smoke as his hand reached the end of his cock. “Good boy,” Katie praised, looking down at his slow moving hand. “Stay slow.”

His counting continued. “21.” Followed by a torturously slow movement. “22.” His teeth clamped shut. “23...”

Holding the smoke to the footballer’s mouth, Katie’s gaze slipped from the physical world. Flushed with colourful energy, the boy’s body pulsed like a giant heart. Red like the embers of a dying fire, still potent with searing heat, throbbing beneath his tight balls. Above that an orange glow, like a setting sun, swarmed over his genitals. His hand moved into the potent heat of the energy centre, drawing its hidden power up and down his shaft.

“24.” He took a deep breath. “25.”

Katie returned to the bed. She sat, took a long draw on her joint, closed her eyes and drew in the energy from the masturbating man. She held the smoke deep down, conjuring an image of her Clan Mother. She kept the picture clear in her head, then exhaled.

“26.” His hand sluggishly dropped to the base, then back to the full, purple head. “27.”