Depravitys Daughter

Author Note: Okay, I'm labeling this one under erotic horror. The horror elements involve vampires, demons, torture, a little noncon, modification. Really, it's most of the fun things that go with vampires and demons :). The erotic elements include M/f, Mm/f, F/m, M/m, bdsm play, mind control, noncon, lactation, modification. I might have missed some and I'm sorry if I did. It's not a short story. Anyway, I wanted to give fair warning as to what you were getting into and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing because this one was a lot of have fun. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, but if you don't have time for all that, so is a rating, too!

Lucius

It all started with a man named Lott, with two Ts. He and his wife were trying to escape Gomorrah, when she turned back.

Just kidding. Actually, now that I think about it, if you spin the story in the right light and tell a few lies, that's not so far off. Anyway, the truth was that I never wanted to be the king of vampires. I never wanted most parts of the story that happened, really. All I had wanted to begin with was a specific set of tarot cards.

————

"Hello, Sirekiller."

I smiled at my human contact. The name had stuck with me for decades now and I encouraged it. Fear was a good deterrent against challenges to my authority in the underworld of damned creatures and I liked to be left alone. Even among vampires, it is an awe inspiring thing to come across one who has murdered their own Sire. It meant killing the creature whose vein I had fed at for so long, meant killing someone whose supernatural authority over me was supposed to be law.

How did one kill the creature whose every word one was magically compelled to obey? I didn't give that answer freely, nor did I give the answer for why I would want to. I let creatures wonder instead, let them spread their own tales to inspire fear against me.

The human before me had healthy amounts of fear of me. He reeked of it, the pores in his body excreting sweat infused with the spicy tang of adrenaline. Fortunately for him, I was not a young vampire at that time, or he would have teased my hungers. "Mr. Lott." I shook his hand politely. "Our mutual friend put us in contact over something I very much covet. He assured me that you are the best purveyor of certain... types of items." I flashed my teeth because he knew all this.

And I knew he knew all of this because for a half hour before meeting him, one of his hired servants had taken me through a long way of his mansion, ensuring that the route showed off all the oddities and rarities that he owned. I had been shown a great many magical trinkets. A very old edition of the Book of the Dead, for instance, written in hieroglyphs that still held magic in their ink from long dead Egyptian priestesses. A skeletal hand was another thing, one that had been infused with such black magic that it made the demon inside my blood purr to see such corruption. A dagger lay in a case and that had been forged with the blood of a very powerful fae. There had been countless toys, ageless delights, and Lott's family was an old money name, so the mansion he lived in was an even more surreal and wonderful home for these objects. They looked every bit like they belonged there.

Despite his fear of me, Lott grinned with a confidence and pride that he had earned the right to have. It was far from easy to collect these things. "Yes, as you can see. Forgive the waste of time, but I thought it might be better to open with some confidence building."

I waved my hand. "I have nothing but time. And I appreciate the thought it came from. Now, did he tell you what I am looking for?"

Lott smiled and gestured to his Conservatory lounge chairs. I inclined my head at the propriety, amused at the politics involved in something as simple as the seating arrangements in a room like that one. As it was, Lott sat a seat away from me, enough to display respectful caution of my species, but not so much as to appear rude. "He did, indeed. Would you care for Scotch?"

"Yes, if you're offering. What kind?"

He listed the brand and I pretended to have heard of it. I didn't truly care for or about human liquor, but after enough millennia, all alcohol bragging was the same conversation, and I knew how to play with vagueness. I knew very well how to sound polite while saying nothing at all, so that the person I spoke with felt both impressed and felt as if they had gotten to flounce their own knowledge.

When I sipped, I swished the liquid in my mouth, tasting the poison that translated to human drunkenness. For me, there was little else I could taste besides the variations of poison in liquor, and poison was the best word I could give it for my kind. It didn't give us any of the good feelings while giving all of the bad, unless we drank it in the blood of a victim. That, on the other hand, could be quite enjoyable. "Forgive the civilities. I'm a creature of habit, Lucius. May I call you that?" At my polite nod, he continued. "Yes, he said you sought the tarot cards of one of the Prague Gypsies."

I smiled in pleasure. Those cards would have been well seasoned with a particularly powerful readers' aura. She had known the true magics, the incantations and rituals required for enhancements. "Indeed. Can you find them for me?"

"I can. I also demand payment for doing so up front."

I considered that. As a vampire, it would not be enticing. I would have been a fool to agree, especially for something so undoubtedly expensive. But I was not just a vampire anymore and this was the same secret that had earned me my title. The demon of Depravity was assimilated in my blood and his magic would ensure recompense if a pact was made.

"As you will." Lott's shock pulsed through his blood and he made my nostrils flare with the scent. "I require your word. Would you swear, say, on your first born, when they come of age, to follow through your end in two months' time if I pay beforehand?"

He tilted his head. "With all due respect, Lucius, you realize that in today's day and age, such contracts are not enforceable and my death would be noticed if you tried to kill me."

I shrugged. Let him think as he willed. If he failed, he would not be the first creature tricked by a demon. "With all due respect back, Mr. Lott, I am from a different species and a different world than you, a more violent world. It is a ritual that is more for my benefit than yours and one that soothes me. I ask that you follow it."

He considered me, but a man like Lott had already had encounters with the underworld of creatures and our idiosyncrasies, it seemed, because his shock faded for speculation and consideration. His nerves even faded and I could easily see what had made him such a good heir to his family's legacy. "Very well, Sirekiller. I swear on my first born child when they come of age. Pay up front and you will earn what you've requested in two months' time."

I smiled, flashing my fangs. "It's a deal then. I have already been named your price. Is that the number you will hold to?"

"Yes. Up front, I'll even lessen it."

That's when I knew. He wasn't actually trying to trick me. I could smell the sincerity. Sad, then, how the story ended. We left on good terms for the time being, the demon inside of me having sealed our word exchange with his own strange brand of magic, and I was confident that Lott would indeed try to hold to his end of the deal. When I was safely outside the bounds of his domicile and not restricted by invitation on the magic I could use, I dematerialized and willed myself back to my own home. It wasn't something most vampires were capable of doing, but like I said, I had assimilated the demon of Depravity and he was a timeless, powerful creature in my blood. If not for him and my willingness to do whatever necessary to be free of my Sire, I would still be trapped in an undead hell.

I had not lied when I said I came from a different time.

————

Let's go back together, to that different time. 509 BC, winter, to be precise. The Battle of Silva Arsia had just come to its bittersweet conclusion. Our Roman forces had been victorious... at the cost of one of our consuls. That night had both the air of celebration and the toasts of sadness for the fallen.

And I? Well, I had garnered a reputation for myself during the battle. My name was said to be one of luck, as it was the name of the consul fallen, but more to the point was my sheer size and background. From the beginning, I had been a brute of a creature. I had been practically bred, born, and raised to be one of the fiercest Roman soldiers. And I had earned every scrap of fear that came with my name.

It was as if some demon had been with me during that battle. It was as if I had been possessed. No thoughts had occurred in my mind at all. No, the strategy and obedience to command were things that had been drilled into my being. Blood had flowed forth from my hands, so much of it. Lust and wrath pulsed through my veins and I had had the sensation of being where I belonged, of being the hand of death. The stench made boys sick, but I inhaled it only to feel myself turn erect with excitement. It had been ecstasy, every nerve pulsing in pleasure with every fleck of blood that rained on me. I had breathed it, choked on it, swallowed down mouthfuls of it.

When I lay in my tent after it was done, I was drinking and I had wanted to be alone for a time, actually. Sure, I could take a whore if I wanted and I intended to in the nights to come, but for the moment I still rode an excitement that burned me and I was worried I couldn't fuck without killing the partner in my pleasure frenzy. I was in a surreal state, wishing I was back in that rain of bloodshed. As it was, I was already generally rough in my carnal attentions. Violence was who I was and the red haze was my euphoria.

I drank some more of the wine in my tent, having earned a never ending font of it. I was a prized warrior and whatever followed the death of the consul, my future was set. Hell, all of Rome would be set up for a powerful opening with her armies after that battle's victory, if the politicians just wouldn't fuck it up. As it turned out, they wouldn't fuck it up.

But I wouldn't get to be around to see it.

It was somewhere in that pitcher of wine that I felt a chill that made me turn with a soft snarl on my face. It didn't feel like the chill of winter. It felt like the chill I would get down my spine when danger surrounded me. I loved that shiver when it was in battle. Like a sixth sense, it ensured my survival. I disliked it, however, when it was in the safety of my private tent, while I was drinking to calm my lusts.

When I turned, however, I went still and my annoyance faded far away.

She was the most exotic thing I had ever seen, something more lovely than any whore I had ever touched, and she had this femme fatale look that taunted a man's entire being. Danger sparked in her eyes and I felt a desire to violently tame that danger, to subdue it. She rendered me speechless with just a look and I knew not what nationality she was. Her skin was bronzed and glistened. Her eyes were an impossible color and I thought it must have been a trick of the light at night because they appeared feral yellow. Her teeth were sharp and bright when she smiled at me. By the force of her gaze alone, she held me still and silent.

"Such a handsome one you are." She seemed to sigh her words with a soft catlike pleasure, a purr of approval, as she circled me. "It's too bad you cleaned all the blood off of you. Did you know, my dear, that you killed the most of anyone today? The death toll you managed to exact was so high that it screamed out to me. I have never heard the Dark Embrace crave to punish one so fiercely. And of course, I couldn't resist coming to see whose soul would cry out with so much pure, defiling wrath. Those pesky, deadly sins." She said the last teasingly.

Her words didn't make much sense to me at the time, but they made me afraid. I didn't know much of the monotheistic religions at the time, but I knew enough of punishment after death. What was more, she spoke with the light of the insane in her eyes. "Forgive me, my lady, who-?"

"Am I?" She smiled, finishing easily. "My name is Astarte. You may call me 'Mistress' from now on, I believe. Yes, the call is still strong and it has been so long since I've had one to amuse me." Her eyes flickered with this light, this irresistible flare, and my willpower was abruptly crushed. It was the strangest sensation that made me gasp and stare at her with wide, helpless eyes. "Come to me. You have not lain with one after your glorious battle, warrior. Allow me to give you an eternal reward. Lay down on your furs."

I could no sooner fight her command than I could suffocate myself. Where I had once been a flame of violence wanting to conquer this woman, I obediently walked to the furs as if I were her puppet. I would soon realize that was exactly the case. "As you wish," I said softly, and even my voice was submissive.

She purred again, that sensual sound. "Very good, little warrior. Perhaps I'll let you up from the Compulsion at times to see you struggle against me. But for right now, I shall enjoy your lion fierceness in the manner of a kitten at my side. Look at you, so proud and bloody. And yet, isn't it so sad to cut those claws and rip those teeth from your lion head so you can't even run from me?" I could no longer focus on anything, couldn't even consider her words or the fact that they should anger me. I couldn't consider that I should have been physically stronger than this insolent female.

All I could think of was how she looked, undressing as she spoke, how she easily undid the strings of her dress and stepped out of it. I didn't even notice that she was not wearing clothing or underclothing that I was familiar with. All I could think enough to do was to say, "Yes, Mistress," and to salivate over the sight of her breasts when she bared them to me.

She chuckled. "Good little lion. I assume you've eaten your fair share of cunt, a warrior like you?" Her smile widened when I nodded. "Excellent. Let's see your skills then, see what I have to work with for my entertainment." When she was naked, she lay down beside me and spread her legs for me to see.

And pleasure shot through me. Her pussy was shaved bare, without the tuft of hair that would have decorated the triangle between her legs, that would have hidden her sex from my gaze. No, she was perfectly hairless, even there. And I couldn't find the anger to wonder who this bitch was, that she would walk into my tent and command me this way. As soon as my thoughts would manage to turn to anything rebellious, anything at all, a fog oppressed me so that my body was obeying the next command without considering.

I pressed my lips to that perfectly hairless sex and sucked, moaning. She tasted delicious, spicy and wicked. It turned out that this was part of her glamour, but I didn't know that then, so I sucked her cream from her and sighed with my own pleasure. Oral and serving another had never been my thing. I was a violent, dominating creature by nature and, evidently, my lack of practice showed.

Astarte lifted me with a cruel, clawed hand in my hair and she slapped my face, the nails of her other hand leaving bloody scratches across my cheek, making me blink with shock. "Look into my eyes, lion."

I had to obey and fell even deeper into that terrible fog. "Yes, Mistress?" The words left my lips without my even thinking of them, so complete was her Compulsion hold on my weaker human mind. As it turned out, she had tons of control over me, due to the sheer amount of wrath I had displayed on the battlefield. It was the thing that had damned me. Her magical hold was in direct correlation to my transgressions and apparently they were legion.

"That's a pathetic effort. You are a warrior male of age and I want you to spend this night pleasing me. You are to eat me with the hunger and fervor you displayed on the battlefield." And then she pressed her palm to my forehead and I felt...

There was nothing like it. No worldly pain felt like what she suddenly did, whatever it was. It was an endless abyss of agony with no source for me to stop it. It was soul crushing despair with no hope for the light of day. When it ended, it felt like it had lasted eternity and I stared at her in horror, my mouth open, though I had not managed to utter a sound. Sweat coated my body and she smiled at me with a sickening form of pleasure. "If you don't please me, little lion, I will make you suffer until you do."

I dove into her pussy, sucking, thrusting my tongue like I had never done before. I used my hands, both of them, desperate to avoid that horrible agony, that abyss of misery. I couldn't think beyond the fog of her Compulsion, couldn't do anything except suck like my life depended on it.

"Good boy." Those words soothed over my sweat sleeked skin and I felt immense relief at the very sound of them. "Oh!" She came with a soft cry on my tongue and I lapped it up.

For the first time since her torture I spoke, and it was to give her a compliment that I hoped might please her, hoped would help me to avoid the hell she threatened me with. "You taste amazing, Mistress."

She chuckled and stroked my hair. "Good little lion. But I didn't tell you to stop eating it. You don't want more punishment, do you?"

I didn't. I dove back into eating her.

The night faded into a memory that I would forever hate. There was nothing but cowardly fear, obedience, and frantic sexual service from me. When she finally decided she wanted to feel my sex, she smiled wickedly and gave me a new command. "No orgasms for you, little lion. I think I like you desperate and afraid for the moment." I whimpered and it was terrible. Her commands forced me to perform with the roughest, most delicious sex I had ever experienced. I should have orgasmed five times by the end of the night and, instead, all that happened was my blood burned hotter and my teeth snapped with frenzied need. I was trapped in that hard state right before orgasm, so hard that it was agony. I grabbed her by her hair and scratched her and didn't even notice how the wounds I left on her flesh instantly healed. I was rougher with her than I had ever been with anyone and she cooed at me with every thrust, laughing at my torment.

"Poor little lion." But the words were said with a smile every time she said them, a lecherously sadistic smile. She had me fuck her in the position of animals, had me lay down while she turned around and rode me. And that one was a different kind of torture, because she held her asscheeks apart and told me to stare at her asshole, to imagine the pleasure of eating it. She made me beg her for the privilege of getting to worship that hole, in those words.

It was the middle of the night when she finally sighed with a little bit of melancholy. "Well, I did enjoy getting to use you as a human toy. It's too bad that it's going to end, but you'll make a very delightful fledgling. The Compulsion is going to make you a fun one." And then she grinned and her voice came out a dangerous purr and I couldn't even focus on her words. "And you will be able to sustain far more damage. I shall enjoy getting to cut you open and seeing the torment you can scream from. Come to me, little lion, so we can be buried before the sun comes up to threaten us."

Once again, in a fog, I obeyed and walked to her Dark Embrace. Astarte smiled up at me and pulled my head down so that she could press her lips to the hollow of my throat. I felt a sharp pain of twin punctures.

Dying was strange. I wish I could say it was a memorable, or even noticeable, event. It wasn't, at least for me, but that might be because it was not so very different from the fog of Compulsion. Her commands already left me dead in my mind and forced me to obey. Actual death was just one step away from that and the gray film covered my eyes while my body disappeared, as if from a great distance.