white bitch for Blackula

"Oh, what a modern little tragedy," Crimson hisses, the voice coming from the host's throat which is now slightly sharper, more predatory, more eager "a girl who lived for the likes, the subs, the ad revenue, and the approval of her pretty little lesbian fan club."

The screen flickers with the glitchy aesthetic of a high definition livestream the webcam frame, the chat box scrolling at light speed, the alerts popping up but the content is corrupted. Dark, vampiric, and obscene.

"Meet Chloe." Crimson purrs, the host's fingers now tipped with long, black, wickedly sharp nails tapping against the edge of her RGB lit keyboard. "A popular streamer. Sweet, lesbian, always flirting with her chat, building that lovely little community of girls who adored her. She thought she was the queen of her digital domain."

The display shows Chloe in her pink and black gaming setup, the ring light casting a halo around her face. She is pretty, trendy, and proud of her lesbian identity. But then, the shadow falls. From the darkness behind her ergonomic chair, the figure of Blackula emerges the Black Dracula. He is imposing, aristocratic, clad in midnight silk, with eyes like two coals burning in a pale, hard face. And between his long legs is the massive, turgid, jet black cock that is her inevitable fate.

"He didn't bite her to kill her," Crimson explains, the host's legs beginning to uncross, the micro shorts riding up high on her increasingly curvy, pale thighs. "That would be so... pedestrian. He bit her to claim her. To mark her as his personal, devoted cockslut. His vampire wife."

The holographic display shows the moment the fangs long and needle sharp pierce the nape of Chloe's pretty neck. The black vampiric venom floods her system, warm and addictive, rewriting her brain immediately. The lesbian pride, the streamer ambitions, the friendships they are dissolved, replaced by a throbbing, mindless hunger for the Black Dracula's enormous cock.

"And she loved it," Crimson adds, sounding genuinely delighted. "The infection is like the sweetest drug. One second she's a proud lesbian streamer, the and the next pop that part of her brain is fucking obliterated, replaced by the glorious, slutty joy of being his bitch."

The display shows Chloe convulsing slightly when the fangs hit, but it isn't painful. It's euphoric. Her head lolls back, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull, becoming dilated and glassy, fixed entirely on the massive black cock the Dracula is now unbuckling from his silk trousers.

Her hands, those formerly manicured streamer hands, scramble at the fly of his pants, her long black nails catching on the fine fabric, eager desperate to free the big black cock she is now sworn to suck.