Sirekiller +18

Standard disclaimer applies: this story contains fictional depictions of erotic and vulgar scenarios, so if it's immoral for you to be reading it, please avoid it! All characters are at least eighteen, all situations are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to any real-life situations is entirely coincidental.

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—Lucius

Depravity grinned and licked his lips above her, taunting her while her eyes went flat yellow with her hunger.

"You vampires. Such a strong race and yet so dependent on blood. Oh my, mother dear, it looks like you taught your fledgling control and didn't even bother to learn any for yourself. That's not very fitting. Let's open you up a little and see what we find. You liked your little lion's c*ck before, didn't you? Liked to hold him permanently chaste and make him use that to work for food? He was nice and large to stretch you open. Let's see if you like how I've changed his anatomy just for you."

When he looked down, I mentally made a sound of exasperation while he clawed off my clothes, working one handed because he was holding Astarte still with the other.

Dear Satan in hell, how am I going to hide that? Depravity had enlarged me, so much so that I had his demon c*ck now, so much so that having s*x for pleasure with almost any mate would be impossible.

No human s*x or hole would be able to take the size of it without suffering... quite a bit. Depravity giggled at my reaction and answered back in my mind. You don't.

Obviously not. And damn him, but obviously, I wouldn't be having s*x without his sin in it either. He well ensured that with how he altered me. Just giving incentive for you to keep your word this time, Lucius. Let me demonstrate how well it works on your mommy from hell.

He did. He held Astarte down with a mad grin in her face, the devil's laughter at her pain.

His voice was guttural again and sounded strange from my vocal cords, almost like a combination of both of us. "Let's see how many thrusts it takes to rip you apart, Astarte, so that we can see all those soulless little insides of yours. And oh no!"

He forced my c*ck inside an opening too small with the power of his species and she screamed while her friend dry heaved in terror in the corner, still held paralyzed and forced to watch the atrocities. "You don't have any blood left to lubricate the way."

Pain was firing up from my demon organ, as if he were rubbing it against sandpaper, but he threw back his head as if it gave him the most exquisite pleasure. "The pain of another's suffering... so sweet... like the black river of harboring at the feet of the Dark Lord's throne. So hot..." He was moaning, grinding into her s*x, which was far too shallow to take him.

And for all the control she had demanded of me, it seemed she really did have none of her own. She snapped and howled in agony, unable to think past the pain and starvation.

My demonic savior f*cked her open with vicious claws, ripped her bloodless body to lay it bare while she howled and shrieked, and hot tears flooded down her cheeks. Her cries were something legendary, something insane. Even I began to pity her.

But not very much. I cherished the memory as a favorite for the rest of my life. It was cruel, and it was harsh, but sometimes the only way to soothe a violent, tortured soul was with cruel and harsh.

He made it last for weeks before he was finally tired of it, so long that her friend went insane with the spectacle. But, to my interest, he stroked that vampire's hair when he took a break from torturing Astarte, and his touch was tender.

He shushed her fears while she sobbed and cringed from him. And he fed her from my vein so that she wouldn't suffer much starvation.

At the end of it, she was broken from the sight of what he did, and before he killed Astarte, he went to her and cooed over her. "Look at me, little songbird."

The vampire did, and she was rather beautiful, for all her taste in terrible company. She was a Luskalith, as I had learned my Sire was as well, and her skin had that tantalizing mocha appearance, and her hair was ebony.

After being forced to watch the most gruesome of tortures from a very adept demon, she obeyed him, and by that time, she no longer cringed and whimpered in terror.

Instead, she giggled in a way that was so reminiscent of Depravity. "I don't think I'm the songbird. I think there was a different song sang but I know other songs too."

Depravity grinned. "I'll bet you do, pretty thing." He stroked her hair with the attention of... a guardian? "Why don't you go and make all kinds of music for me? Maybe when you've practiced, we can even make music together and wouldn't that be such fun? What's your name?"

Her mad grin widened. "I don't know. What is my name?"

"That's what we like to hear. Let's see. I once had a pet hellcat, who used to rip souls to shreds on command, and I liked to call her Vika. I think that should be your name. Don't you?" He stroked a claw down her cheek and drew her blood so that she purred to the pain and moaned to the sight of him licking it casually from that claw.

"Oh, but my name has always been Vika, hasn't it? I don't remember another one. And will I ever find you again?"

"Of course you will, little p*ssy. Now, run along and go make some music for my ears to hear. I won't abandon you. Once you've played enough, I'll even hurt you one day. Go on now. Back to the garden to play with the little birds."

He watched as she pranced away and left out the door of that place, leaving us alone with a ripped open vampire who had no arms or legs anymore.

And then he whistled happily and went to the writhing, whimpering thing that had once been my Mistress. In a few merciful slashes of my claws, he severed her head, and the body disintegrated into dust.

Just like that, it was over, and my body was my own again. Depravity faded happily into my blood, and he no longer fought the integration at all.

His voice quieted, and there was little left but an unholy marriage between the two of us. We were almost one being.

Except we had dual desires, dual hungers. I felt these things as strange emotions in my bloodstream, separate from my own.

Sometimes, I would hear that duality in the form of his cackle and mad giggles. Very rarely, I would hear him speak, mostly when I left him unfed for far too long, and usually, it was short sentences.

Be my friend or Play with me. It was things like that, and they were always in a softly threatening whisper in the back of my mind, a devious reminder that I had made a promise to him.

I would always apologize and feed him when it happened. Much like a vampire, I learned that with each time, his hunger turned less intense and less frequent. As the centuries passed, he turned into a happy demon, and we got along well together.

And I learned to use clothing to hide the massive f*cking bulge Depravity decided to bloody gift me with. Although, I could never have s*x without it being a gruesome ordeal after that.

I did learn to get off by stroking myself between a girl's nether lips instead of through penetration, and that was alright anyway.

Well, it was unless Depravity randomly decided he wanted to f*cking kill her, like a jackass, and then I'd end the night with a corpse to get rid of.

But I did end up with the materialization thing, and I got hellish strength, even greater than most other vampires had. I could sense desecrated ground that would protect me, even found a way to look into the sun.

Sometimes D's forays ended with gifts, most often f*cked up little pets like Vika who would find me and keep me company and play with me. Needless to say, I considered the rewards very much worth their price.

Anyway, now you can see just how futile Lott's efforts were to keep his daughter from me. Demonic pact ruled over all other human and undead laws, so completely that it earned me the impossible name of Sirekiller.

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