1416
My name is Giselle Lyons, and this is my story.
It was raining softly when she found me, hiding in a semi-collapsed hovel on a bolster of hay, near a woodside road in the French countryside. Annabelle, Marquess of Lyons said she could smell me from the road, like a doe in rut. I had heard the hoof beats of a horse outside, saw a noble woman framed in the sagging doorway, dressed in silks and brocade, she helped me to my feet, looked at me as if assessing a servant.
Taking me in her arms I felt her mouth on my neck, the pinch of her teeth, and the scent of my blood as she fed until I was so lightheaded, I could no longer stand.
I had been foraging in the area. At barely 18 I had been married to a pimple-faced farmer who had repeatedly neglected to pay his taxes and was promptly conscripted into the king's army only to die ignominiously in battle on the field at Agincourt. Thrown off the farm, I found what sustenance I could in the wilds of the countryside and by begging scraps from strangers.
The Marquess was a true beauty. Self-assured, well dressed, she comported herself with a natural nobility that at the same time was accessible to all. Appearing to be only a few years my senior, she was in fact in her late fifties when we first met.
We rested in the ruined hovel until I'd regained some of my strength, after which she helped me onto her horse. She rode like a man, which was a rarity for that period, and I hung onto her for dear life as we negotiated the forest road. That evening we arrived at a good-sized town and she rented a room at the local tavern. We were to stay there for several days before moving on.
Insisting that we sleep in the same bed, she also insisted that we sleep naked. At night, she would explore my body. One of the only things I could be proud of in my short life, I was small in stature, brown hair and eyes, but a nice figure. That first night she touched me everywhere finding spots that evoked such pleasure as I had never known from my scant experiences with the few of the village boys who I'd entertained, and eventually my husband.
The second evening after dinner, we again retired to our bedchamber and she again explored me with her hands, only this time her mouth found mine and we kissed like lovers. Her kisses fell on every inch of my body, it seemed. Her mouth found the cleft between my legs and she introduced me to such things as I had never imagined women could do with other women. Having shown me, she directed me to do the same to her. Her musky scent, setting me atingle. Her musk in my mouth, a delicacy beyond description.
The third evening she fed on me again. My body was afire as if she were between my legs. My sight blurred as she feasted on my essence, the smell of my blood in her mouth making me swoon, as I had the previous night in her bedstead. Le petit mort, the little death, orgasm. The moment when things cease to exist in a linear fashion.
The following morning, after we had broken fast, we were again on the move. To another nearby village where she maintained a small estate.
"A few days hence, I shall feed on you a third time. We will say the ancient spells, and burn the incense and you will become as I am. We will be bound to each other as lovers." She told me.
"Anything to be in your arms again, Mistress." I replied. She smiled sweetly, secure in the knowledge that we were bound as lovers already.
The estate was simple but well maintained. A small villa surrounded by a few cottages inhabited by the estate caretakers. The furnishings were comparatively elegant compared to anything I'd ever experienced in my simple life.
We ate, drank, and made love for several days. Eventually she led me to a locked room. It was nearly midnight. There was a pentacle on the floor with candles at each vertex. We stood naked in the center, our arms wrapped around each other. I felt her breath on my neck. I felt the anticipatory wetness between my thighs. She hovered there, her lips against my skin, kissing me, until the clock began to toll midnight and I felt her teeth pierce my skin, and smelled the unmistakable scent of my blood gift to her.
I felt my consciousness ebb, the room growing dark, and finally the feeling that I was being eased down onto the floor. I was simultaneously passing out and orgasming.
I awoke in our bed the next morning. I felt... different, augmented. My senses all seemed sharper. I could smell her in bed next to me before I even opened my eyes.
"You've made me." I said.
"Yes. You are mine in every way now, Giselle." She answered. And with that said, we made love to each other with a primal intensity as only two vampires can.
1870
The streets of Paris in the mid 1800's were a veritable playground of debauchery. Life with Annabelle Lyons as she now referred to herself, was a dreamy erotic adventure. Love with her never got old or became dull. The city was ours, in every imaginable way, made for vampires. The street whores could be had in cheap and willing abundance, only too happy to be fed from for a few centimes compensation. We had a townhouse in a posh neighborhood just a short walk from the Champs Elysees.
If there was one overarching advantage to having a vampire's lifespan it was the opportunity one had to invest. Annabelle and I had become rather shrewd, and as a result rather wealthy. Flower plantations for the perfume industry, vineyards in the south of France and Italy, cattle farms in Argentina and the United States. A shipyard in Hamburg. As well as extensive real estate holdings worldwide. We wanted for nothing.
Waking up horny every morning knowing she felt exactly the same, seldom did a day go by that we didn't make love at least once. Wandering the streets together at night, looking for a cute little whore to drain. Every once in a while, hitting one who'd been drinking absinthe.
It was truly a magical time to be alive.
1937
New York was abustle with life. The world was in turmoil, and it looked like war was once again looming on the horizon in Europe. We had mostly divested our German holdings before the prior conflict, but there was one small watchmaking factory that we were about to close on the sale of. Annabelle and I usually travelled together, but this had come up at a rather awkward time and Annabelle had gone alone to Hamburg to sign the paperwork.
I had had a strong sense of foreboding, but Annabelle pointed out that it had to be handled, and that putting it off was a bad move.
She had taken a ship over and signed the paperwork the day of her vessel's arrival. The next evening, she boarded LZ-129 at the Hamburg airfield, The Hindenburg. Annabelle was to call me upon arrival. I had sent a car down to pick her up in Lakehurst. The airship had burst into flames while attempting to dock, and there were dozens of fatalities. Annabelle was among them, her remains never found, naturally. My heart was broken. The love of my life was gone forever.
Last year
I spotted her on Roosevelt Ave. She was working a streetcorner. She was young but looked tired beyond her years. I knew how she felt. I'm not exactly sure what drew me to her. Perhaps it was similar to what had made Annabelle investigate a ruined hovel some centuries back. She had a hot figure but was a bit emaciated from drug use. She was a junkie, I could tell the look. I could smell it on her. I didn't care. I wanted her. Bad.
Dark red hair, tired green eyes. Busty, but with a slender waist, and a really cute ass, she was wearing fuck-me pumps, a crop top that didn't quite cover the bottoms of her boobs, and dirty spandex capris that must have been sexy at one time. I offered her a C note and had her in a nearby alley in under a minute my mouth at her neck. I could tell she was high as fuck, it hit me a little when I started feeding on her blood. She moaned a sexy moan, that so reminded me of Annabelle in orgasm, that I came a little bit myself. I felt her knees start to buckle and figured enough was enough.
"What's your name?" I asked as I eased her down to sit against the wall.
"Sapphire, why?" she asked, a little puzzled.
"I'm Giselle. Giselle Lyons. Come home with me." I said, kneeling beside her there.
"It ain't gonna be cheap, lady." She warned.
"Don't worry. I'm good for it." I replied.
