My formal greeting to my father—a greeting any servant would give their master—was rewarded with nothing more than his nod of acknowledgment. But that small, seemingly inconsequential motion, meant more to me that what others would see. I love my father, respect him, and so whenever we were in the public's eye—especially like those of the Elders' class or other Purebreeds—I do all I can to keep his reputation up. I act the humble daughter, in reverence to his power and status. He treats me as he would any other Vampire. He is our monarch and I his loyal servant.
When formalities were over and done with, my father and I sat down in our respective seats.
Headmaster Cromwell spoke. "Now, my Princess. Our Lord has already informed me of your reasons for honoring our school with your enrollment." I slid a glance to my father, unsure as to what his motives were for helping me, or if he was here to hinder. Unaware of my sudden suspicion in everything, the headmaster continued. "As you are aware, this is an all male school. We are not often blessed with the presence of a beautiful young woman such as yourself and our students can be a bit...crude. To say the least. They have yet to be taught the proper ways of respect."
"Just get to the point, Mr. Cromwell. Are you trying to tell me to not take their words or antics to heart?"
As the male verbally fumbled for something to say to that, my father tipped back his head and laughed. The deep sound stopped the babble, bringing Cromwell's eyes to the source. Everything about my father was transfixing, and he had no qualms about using every bit of himself to his advantage.
Ending the laughter, he brought his gaze back to Cromwell's. "I suppose your students are not the only ones in need of a good lesson, James."
Despite the levity of his words, I took them as the reprimand that they were. Sliding out of my seat, I knelt at his feet, hands clutching together in front of me like a nun praying to her savior. But Father was anything but Jesus Christ, and I was anything but nun-ish.
I lowered my head, eyes closed, not even allowing myself to gaze upon his bare feet with their perfect toes. "Forgive me, Father. I spoke out of place."
"That you did." I flinched at his words, even as the sound of his voice had my body clenching in lust. Then I felt his hand on the top of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. "Perhaps you may earn back my graces if you are successful in apologizing to the one you interrupted." His suggestion was an off-hand murmur, but the power he exuded, coupled with his touch, had me eager to do his bidding. Aching to do his bidding.
"Yes, Father."
With the wave of his hand the heavy ornate desk slid to the side without so much as a touch. Knowing that I wasn't allowed off my knees until my request for forgiveness was accepted, I turned and crawled to Cromwell. Without raising my eyes, my hands slid up his legs, his thighs, feeling the toned muscles beneath the black slacks. Born Vampires aged as normally as humans until puberty. That was when their growth hit a bump. There are a lot of eighteen-year-old vampires who still look like they're twelve. Cromwell wasn't eighteen, though. He was on his third century, and looked around twenty-eight. His hair was the color somewhere between dark blond and light brown. His eyes were a pretty shade of brown-gold. As stated before, all Born Vampires are unearthly beautiful. Cromwell was no exception.
My hands found his zipper, releasing the binding with practiced ease. He was already semi-hard. I could feel his lust radiating, but it was a nerve-wracking experience for him to get an apology from his Lord's daughter, while his Lord was there to watch—enjoy. But I've done enough apologizing in my father's presence, most at his command. It was nothing new for me to take another Vampire's dick in my mouth, being careful of my fangs, with my father's eyes on me.
My apology was thorough and well enjoyed, if the hardening of his cock was anything to go by. Within seconds the flesh was solid as steel, covered in silken velvety skin. The pre-cum that beaded at the tip of his cock was like a taste of ambrosia; yet another alluring tactic that Vampires had. Being sexual creatures, everything that had to do with the subject was a weapon in and of itself for us.
Sucking harder, I tried my damnedest to bring him to orgasm. My body hot with need, thighs quivering with both holding myself up and wanting to open for penetration. My pussy was soaked, juices running down my thighs to pool at my knees. But an apology meant that the one in the wrong gave the pleasure and allowed themselves none of their own.
Though I have to admit that I loved sucking dick. I loved having something in my mouth. And the added taste of a Vampire's cum was yet another pleasure of mine.
Cromwell's hands tightened at his sides, and I knew he was close.
"You may place your hands upon her, if you wish, James." My father's voice was soft and amused, and the power of his deep tones was a stroke within my womb. It nearly had me cumming. But that was the point. It was against the rules of a sincere apology to allow yourself any form of release unless permitted by the one you're apologizing to. Father loved toying with the ones on their knees, and despite me being his daughter, I was no exception. He would play his power along my body and silently laugh at me when I forced myself not to orgasm. It was cruel on his part and that was the whole point. He was a spawn of Hell, after all.
Hands tentatively touched along the top of my head. Cromwell was still hesitant in being on the receiving end of an apology from his princess, but the pleasure was getting to be too much for him. Eventually his lust won out because his grip became a forceful thing, grabbing handfuls of my long dark hair and pulling my mouth, my throat, down over his stiff cock. I had to bite off a moan as the head of his cock slid past the back of my throat, coating the burn with that delicious pre-cum. I swallowed when I could, breathed when I could, gave myself over to his fierce drives, his demanding guidance.
Slipping the triangular opening of his pants a little wider, I slithered my fingers inside and fondled his balls, the sparse, silky hair there tickling my fingertips. I let the tip of my nail play along the soft, sensitive skin at the back of them, felt his sack tighten in response. Not long after that, his grip in my hair tightened to the point that I felt a few strands rip free. Then he was down my throat, my lips meeting the base of his staff as he arched his hips and pulled me tighter against him. And he was cumming, his release coating my throat, both burning and soothing, musky and minty. I sucked hard, pulling as much from him as I could, wanting to suck him dry.
All too soon I was being pulled back. My father stood above me, his hand in my hair, my neck arching at a painful angle to look up at him. His eyes were black and glittering, sinister deeds echoing in the ebony depths. Then he bent low to me and with his other hand lifted my skirt from my rump.
His grin was devilish, to say the least, as he looked at my exposed pussy. "You took more pleasure from apologizing than you should have, Daughter."
I licked my lips, and couldn't control the flexing of my pussy. "I'm sorry, Father."
His grin widened, exposing not only his wickedly large fangs, but the second, slightly smaller set that flanked the larger ones. Without a word, his grip in my hair pulled me up from my hands and knees. His other hand still held my skirt up, and he ran that hand around to my front, his fingers scooping through the juices that were sliding down my inner thighs. His touch alone was devastating, the feel of his unholy flesh sending sparks of pleasure to shoot up and down my spine, all senses of nerve-jerking sparks to concentrate within my womb. My lips parted to allow air in as I panted. His black eyes sparkled as he watched my arousal build. Then his wet fingers slipped between his own lips. He let a rumbling purr of pleasure to vibrate through his chest, and that was the last straw. My orgasm hit me hard and fast, a dam breaking as my body jerked against his hold and my shouts filled the room—
And just like that, the flood was shoved back into its reservoir and the dam in place once again. The pain of it being forced back into place had my breath coming hard on an exhale like a punch to the gut, my muscles shaking, my energy depleted. My head felt light and it was only my father's grip in my hair that had me standing upright. And as I stood there in pain and my full release denied, my father fed off of me. He opened himself up, tore into my energy, and fed off of my shaky muscles and useless limbs and cramping womb. He dined on my denied pleasure and subsequent pain.
I barely felt my skirt swish back around my ankles but when my father's arms went around me, I felt the tingling coldness of his body against mine. He scooped me up and sat back in his chair, my curled body resting on his lap, my head leaning against his shoulder. His initial feed had ebbed but his link still remained, siphoning my languid energy like sipping delicately through a thin straw. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Cromwell closing up the front of his pants. The light wave of my father's energy flowed around me and Cromwell's desk was back where it was before. Everything was back as it was, my being curled up against my father the only indication that something other than chatting had happened.
