You are the Vampire!

It is dark. Around you, you feel the walls of your coffin and you know that beyond those lie the walls of the stone sarcophagus in which it lies. You feel no fear, knowing that were it required you could tear the lid off both without exerting yourself. That however is not necessary.

You hear a heartbeat, young and strong, already quickened with the arousal of both fear and desire. She knows instinctively, as do they all, that you are a predator who seeks to draw the life-giving blood from their veins. But all are more than willing to offer the blood you need for the pleasure their young nubile bodies crave. This is why they now dress in such an arousing manner now for they hope that by doing so they can attract your interest and so be chosen. Little do they realize that it is not their external beauty that attracts you but they warmth of their blood and that your greatest consideration when choosing your next visitor is whether she can survive your feeding. Still your existence has not robbed you of enough humanity that you do not to appreciate their beauty or enjoy the feel of their bodies and the sounds of pleasure that they make as you take them. Plus you have grown to enjoy the sweet tang that sexual climax gives to their blood and so have made it a habit not to partake of their sanguine fluids until their bodies are quaking in ecstasy.

With a thought you change to mist and seep out of the cracks in your coffin and sarcophagus and move across the floor toward the girl. In this form you can sense nothing but the heat of her blood and the sound of her heartbeat. You pool around her feet and then climb her near naked body, feeling her shivering from a mixture of fear, excitement and the cold of your misty form.

You coalesce around her, your body behind her with one hand in her negligee cupping one of her firm young breasts, feeling its nipple hard from either cold or arousal, and the other between her legs exploring her bald cleft, warm and needy. Her hair is golden, long and curly and you breathe in its scent, freshly washed and smelling of roses.

"What is your name?" you whisper.

"M-M-Millie. Millie, sir" she says.

"Your full name"

"Millicent, sir, Millicent Hargrove."

"Do you know who I am, Millicent Hargrove?"

"Y-yes! Yes, sir. You're that dark man. The one all the girls talk about. The one who enters their dreams and fills them with longing, and desire, and pleasure so they wake feeling weak but wonderful..."

You smile at the description. It is apt enough, although it is not their dreams you invade, as Millicent is about to find out. "Is that what you want, Millicent?" you ask.

"Yes! Oh yes sAHHH!" she gasps as your fingers penetrate deeply inside her. You move them in and out while massaging her clit with your thumb and her breast with your other hand your inhuman sensitivity allowing you to feel where she is most sensitive and how to engender the most pleasure. You enjoy the way she writhes against you, her groans of unfettered pleasure and the scent of her arousal as it wafts into your nostrils. You sense her first orgasm of the night coming and take your hand from her breast to move her hair aside and find the best place on her neck to thrust your teeth into. Just as she peaks you bite down, allowing the pleasure of her orgasm to intermingle with that of your 'kiss' and drive her to heights of rapture impossible to reach by mere mortal means. Her blood is awash with her pleasure and it tastes better than liquid sex. It is like someone had taken Millicent's pleasure, desire, innocence and devotion and liquefied it. It takes superhuman effort to do so, but you take only a little, sipping the ambrosia so as not to kill its source. Also you do not want to take all that you can now, for that would leave Millicent too weak to continue and preclude continuing your enjoyment of her lovely body.

Having sipped and sampled Millicent's sexually-charged blood you close the wound so as to not waste a drop and then wait until she is able to think coherently again before continuing.