Alyssa decides to keep you and Worm

Alyssa's lips are cool against the living heat of your mouth. Her kiss is surprisingly chaste. She does not answer your parted lips nor thrust her tongue into your mouth. She moves, kissing your cheek down to your jaw, following the strong line of your face to your neck. You shudder, knowing what is coming, but she draws it out, teasing your flesh with her tongue. She traces shapes with the moist tip of her tongue, perverse symbols to draw out your fear, hearts and crosses and clovers that make you shiver and squirm beneath her.

"So luscious and warm," says Alyssa.

Her lips open and she presses them to your neck. You feel her teeth inside her mouth, hard against your tender flesh. A last lick and then...

"Ahhhh!" you cry as the knife-sharpness of her teeth pierce your skin. From the hot gush and the fever-spread in your body you know she has struck your artery. She slurps loudly and sucks at your flesh. The pain quickly becomes dreamy, diffused pleasure. It's as if a hot blanket has fallen over your skin. You can feel each suck at your throat, each quantity of blood she takes, and the more she drinks the better it feels.

"So sweet," her lips move against your neck. "You are not just a hunter, you are descended from Van Helsing. It has been a century since I've tasted one of your line. A man. My husband and I drank him together. You are all mine."

She returns to sucking at the wound. You squirm, not with pain or fear, but with intense, orgasmic pleasure. You hear a distant moan and it takes you several languid seconds to realize it is your voice. You can hear your slowing heartbeat. You can feel weakness stilling your limbs and yet, your pleasure grows. Waves of contractions moving through you. The sucking sound of Alyssa is loud in your ear.

You are near ****. You know it. This is how it ends, you think. Naked, humiliated, sprawled on a bed in some forsaken village. Slain by a monster.

It is as if Alyssa has heard your thoughts, or perhaps she only knows the throb of your stilling heart, but she lifts her mouth from your neck, her gorgeous lips scarlet with your blood. She smiles, eyelids heavy as if drunk on your blood.

"I have enjoyed this night too much to end you now," she says. "It is rare that I keep a morsel for more than one night, but watching you and your little friend frolick for my amusement has been a wonderful stimulant for my appetite. Sleep now, sweet Van Helsing, and regain your strength. I will take you to the place where even my husband will never find you."

Darkness consumes you. Dreams of lust for Alyssa fill your mind. It is as if she communicates to you and dominates you even while you are sleeping. She sucks at your breast and thigh and throat and each place she drinks your blood and you cum and cum and cum. When your eyes open you are lying on a blanket atop a small pile of straw. A single lantern provides light for the dank cell in which you find yourself. There are no windows, so you do not know if it is day or night.

You rise, nude, your nipples hard, your quim moist from your erotic dreams. There is a wooden pitcher filled with water and a cup filled with gruel. You quickly finish both, using the last of the water to clean yourself. You press yourself against the iron bars of your cell, trying to lean out and see where you are. There are other cells, a few lit by lanterns. There are sobbing sounds and bestial sounds and other sounds, too strange to identify, but you cannot see who or what is in them.

The only other feature you can see is a small flight of stone-carved steps and a heavy wooden door banded with iron. Is that the way out of this place?