The Greyman Saga

Authors Note:

Thank you so much for the favorites and comments on the first chapter! I appreciate all the feedback, ranging from positive to negative and in-between!

I can't improve without it:)

I do want to say that for those somewhat jostled by being suddenly being dropped into the story-- things do clear up quickly and I don't expect you all to muddle through just not understanding what's happening for several chapters. Things should explain themselves quickly!

I just really liked the idea of having the story begin like a cheesy 90's porn intro that transforms into something totally different by the end of the chapter!

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter! I know Joran sure does ;)

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Chapter 2:

Made to Drain:

Somewhere in my mind I processed the Dread's words with cool understanding, but it was a distant place. I was vaguely aware my prepared tether to Melidyl had dissipated, but I couldn't be bothered. The Vermyr was licking her lips like a starved hyena. I had felt more at home surrounded by a den of Vampyres.

"You didn't know?" She teased, shifting just ever so slightly in my direction, her hips swinging like a dark pendulum.

I brought my hand to my chest, then up to my face and slapped myself hard. It stung, but it was pleasant in contrast to the haze of bewilderment that had been holding me hostage. The Dread raised her eyebrows at me.

"Really?"

I rocked my head back and forth, thinking about her earlier question.

"No I didn't."

I hadn't known, and it wasn't for lack education. I was more than a little studied on the neighboring dimension of Edinmoor, the dark continet of Dredincross, and the Dreads that lived there. It was doubtful that I had just happened to miss the vital fact that Vermyr fed off erotic release.

The library in Damoria was the largest compilation of Dread lore on the planet, or at least on the western seaboard. If anything about the habits of Dreads could be found, it would be found there. Up until this exact moment, I'd been convinced that I had read any and all books that might have held that information. I was less sure now.

It was possible a book or two could have slipped through the cracks. Possible. Not probable.

"Well I guess we're a rare breed. It's not like I was taught about it anyway. Vamps don't need to be taught to thirst for blood." The Dread tapped her finger on her lips, her eyes slowly lowering down to my waistline.

"Settle down Nympholina. You'll pull a muscle." I snapped my fingers to pull her attention back.

She smirked, but took her time raising her vision again. I looked towards the shriveled Jollick in the corner.

"Is that how you--

"Oh jeez no. Dreads don't hold life energy, I wouldn't get anything from doing that to that, and besides...eughh." She shivered in disgust.

I shouldn't have cared, but I was somewhat soothed to know that she hadn't fellatio'd the Jollick to death. I paced back and forth, attempting to wrap my mind around the information I'd been given.

"What happens to the humans?" It was a question that also horrified me, but she seemed not to understand my meaning.

"When you...'drain' them."

Her eyes lit with understanding and shrugged.

"I've heard some people have gone insane from the euphoria. Men in particular. Women tend to have a larger capacity for induced pleasure, and pain. But, most of the time it's not that serious. Depending on the extent of the feed, they can be pretty exhausted and a lot just...pass out."

"Most of the time?"

"Well I'm not all knowing am I? Besides, I refrain from feeding that way as much as possible. It hasn't been worth the trouble. My original expectations of reorans has been lowered somewhat since arriving..."

I scoffed.

"You seemed far from 'refrained' earlier."

She eyed me quietly, but it felt like I'd struck a nerve.

"It's always harder to keep myself in check after dealing with a Dread. It's like eating something horribly disgusting, but steeped in salt. It's gross, pitiful food, but it just makes you hungrier. And then, you..." She worked her jaw vigorously, her hands beginning to roam across her body, "you smell."

I was a bit taken aback, watching her caress herself, her eyes closing.

"You smell GOOD."

I cleared my throat loudly, but she didn't stop her massaging. Her hands were roaming lower and lower.

"Ah tatata!" I clapped my hands loudly and she paused, her left hand pressed between her legs.

"What does that mean? That I smell good. What does that mean to a Vermyr?"

She opened her eyes lazily, but I could see the flush of color in her pale cheeks. I slid my hand to my hip, resting it on the handle of the long, curved, dagger that hung there.

"Answers, love. I'm not in business of fucking Dreads. I'm in the business of killing them. The only reason you're alive right now is that I don't have answers."

I drew the knife and spun it, twirling it in several complex loops through my fingers before letting it come to a stop on my outstretched middle finger. It rested flat, balanced like a perfect scale.

"You may not have killed humans, and you MAY kill Dreads, but that doesn't mean you're not a monster. Convince me why I shouldn't do what I came here to do."

The Vermyr looked at me with a new sense of caution. She pulled her hands back behind her waist, taking a far more subservient pose as she gave me a slow nod. It was a rather see-through act, but at least she was paying attention now.

"I've never harmed a human. Not in any intentional way. If...if I couldn't sustain myself on Dreads though, I'm not sure how I would be alive. If I couldn't I guess I might have--but that's besides the point. I've had rough days, but I can get by on the gruel that Dreads provide."

"The smell?"

She shook her shoulders awkwardly, taking several deep breaths.

"It's hard to talk about. I imagine it's like discussing your favorite dessert while starving. Worse. Like thinking you've seen water after days without drinking."

I could see her stance tensing, the veins in her neck bulging. I waited.

"Vamps have preferred blood types. Dryss prefer those with happier memories and good souls. I get drawn to particular smells. I can't tell you what the differences actually are though. Why one person smells like 'huh' and another makes my entire being vibrate with need. I suppose the level of attraction, pheromones, how aroused by me they are could all be factors. But it's not that simple. I mean," She gave me an accusing glance, "I could taste your scent two hundred meters down that road."

I felt my skin crawling, my body reacting to her words despite my now steeled mind.

"Is that normal?"

She shook her head sharply.

"Not at all."

I had looked at her speculatively. It seemed I was her O negative. An inside joke between Greymen when referring to a Dread's preferred prey.

"And what would you have done if I hadn't been interested in your advances?" I asked.

"Does that mean you were?" She chuckled, her body relaxing somewhat.

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. It was like talking to a child. A very lewd child.

"I mean, what if I'd just been some guy. Some dutiful, married man who didn't want any part in your cravings."

"I don't know."

I tipped the blade to the left and gave her a stern glare.

"I'm serious!" She whined, her lips forming into another innocent pout.

"I've never had someone say no! And I've never had a craving like that before! I can't say for sure, but I'm not a monster. I've always had ENTHUSIASTIC consent, the few times I've been overcome by my needs. And, well, you reorans basically salivate over me like a three course meal. Most of you at least." She gave me a sour look as she made the last comment.

I continued to watch her with a heavy leer, but I was far from surprised.

She was stunning. She was built like a dream. She was playful too, and she was the one asking. I didn't know a man, and more than a few women, that wouldn't want to dive into that alluring, metaphorical, pool if she offered it.

"Well?"

That voice again. It evoked butterflies in me, a sensation I hadn't felt in years. A decade at least. I killed for a living. No. Not for a living. It's not like I got paid or that it furthered my life expectancy. I killed monsters...because. Because I could? Because I was good at it?

Because I wanted to.

I'd dealt with seductresses. The movie trope of Vamps being horn-dogs was a pretty accurate portrayal and there were plenty of other Dreads that made supermodels look like part time fashion employees.

But that voice. Those eyes. It made me feel like I was back in Damoria, just a teenager in training under Madame Elvera. Everyday had been torture, trying to keep myself in check as the gorgeous woman had shown me how to fight. But, I had been a teenager then. I should have better control of myself now.

I felt my lips pull into an annoyed frown.

Dreads. Fucking Dreads.

I suddenly remembered her question.

"Well what?"

"Did I convince you?"

I spun the knife on my finger tip, thinking about my answer.

"I don't know. I honestly still don't know if you're just spinning me some tale. I don't even know if you're even actually a Vermyr. I mean, I find it unlikely that you just concocted all of this out of thin air, but there's still just too many variables." I flipped the blade, catching it by the handle again and slid it smoothly back into its sheath.

"I could show you."

I hadn't heard her speak so softly, or so nervously before. I felt my brow furrow.

"How would--" I felt my limbs tingle in realization.

"Oh, OH. No, let's just cut that line of thinking off right there."

I was the one blushing now. Sure, she had made advances at the beginning of all of this, but this was different. She was asking me now. Explicitly.

"But it seems the straightest route?" She was still speaking timidly, her eyes deep in thought.

I groaned inwardly.

I could handle the provocative tones, and weather the active flirting, but she was being thoughtful now. Attempting to sway me with logic. She raised her gaze to mine, continuing,

"I can only see two paths right now. Well, three I guess, but I really don't like that idea of dying so we're gonna move past that one. First, you could take me with you. Drag me to whatever place you can get answers. I'll go along without a fight. You're a Greymen after all, you hunt Dreads, right? It would mean easier meals for me, and I could help you with your work for the time being. But, the second option would be a lot faster, and I think you'll find it...enlightening. You could just, well, drain yourself into me. Afterwards, if you're still not convinced, we go through with the first option."

I felt my throat go dry.

"You could try to kill me while I'm--distracted."

"Not if you restrain me again." Her smile was returning, and her timid tone was slipping away.

"Think about it. It's the best option. You might even have fun."

I opened and closed my mouth wordlessly. She was right. I was thinking about it. I couldn't believe it, but I was.

As if to punctuate my hesitation, she stepped forward and lowered to her knees, extending her arms just as they'd been when I'd previously entrapped her. She smiled at me, a demure expression that conveyed her desire like an alarm bell.

*Ssssss*

I felt my breathing stop. The gentle click of her fingers dismissing the robe she'd donned. Pale, docile, and completely nude she waited eagerly for me to chain her in place.

Primal instinct is a hell of a thing. It makes us do irrational things. Things that go against our primary directives. When our bodies act before our minds we are capable of doing the impossible, and the unadvised, without fear. We jump off cliffs, run into traffic, and face death to obey our urges. In short, it makes us crazy.

"Elix. Droga shrii." I uttered the spell to summon the green bindings first, then reinforced them with a dark gray smoke that hardened into a solid, glossy stone. Within the span of a moment, she was bound and waiting.

The Dread moaned audibly, and I watched her pupils dilate into massive black saucers. The gentle brown of her eyes began to glow a heavenly gold. I felt my chest quake, my breath feeling ragged as I let my eyes drink her in without reservation for the first time. She was, in the simplest terms, unreal.

From the day we're born information is poured into our heads. We're bombarded with subliminal messages, social directives and expectations. We're meant to conform. Our sexual preferences are no exception. Big boobs, little boobs. Thin waists or wide hips. Long hair, short hair. Sloping, delightful curves. Tight, impressive structure.

Societal definitions of beauty change with the day, the month, and the year. There are variations of what we're told to be attracted to, but, at our core, I believe each of us is drawn to features and traits that we can't really quantify.

I can't tell you that this woman in front of me was perfect. I'm a victim of society and programming just like everyone else, even if my upbringing was a little different. I don't know what perfection is. But, I did know this damned Dread evoked more desire in me than anyone I'd ever met, and I'd be willing to bet that would extend to my future as well.

I couldn't see a single thing in front of me that didn't do just what it should. Each curve, each ripple of tension, each ray of light struck her exactly as my brain believed it should. In simpler terms: she was an impossibility of lust. Her breasts were like large teardrops of flesh, trembling with her labored breaths. I knew they would tumble out my hands, unable to be held in full.

Her core was a tight board of strained tension and delicate wonder. It looked as soft as a cloud, and as hard as rock. Her legs--

Oh God, her legs.

They were thick and muscled, but draped under a visual of sensual tenderness. They reminded me of a veiled marble statue, and the paradox of stone being made to look like silk. And between those wonderful thighs...

I felt my mind return from the depths, yanked into reality by the sight of her blatantly dripping cunt.

What was I doing? Was I really going to let this girl--this nameless Dread, suck me dry?

I paused, realizing I didn't even know her name. I shook my head in disbelief at the thought.

Who cared about her name?

That was not the problem. The problem was that I had lost my fucking mind. And yet, I still wondered.

"What's your name?" I asked numbly, my hand slowly unbuttoning my pants.

Her delirious eyes looked up at me, and she swallowed the string of dripping saliva that had begun to roll down her chin.

"Miramae La'Vorr."

I slid down my zipper.

"How exactly does this--"

"Fill me."

She writhed against her restraints, opening her mouth wide and sticking out a drenched tongue as she tried to reach me. Her eyes were unfocused and filled with need. A feverish froth had begun to form at the corners of her mouth.

Reaching into my now open slacks, I wriggled free the hardened tool that I would be using to test this Dread.

Was I reallt doing this?

There was a noticeable change in the air as I stepped towards her.

It was warmer. Hotter.

Miramae's hair lifted into the air like it was being tussled by a gentle wind and her eyes shimmered a brilliant yellow.

"Please." She whimpered.

Drool was running freely down her lips, falling down to her shaking breasts, leaving them glistening and wet.

"PLEASE." She begged.

"I'm--okay FINE!" I lurched forward, plunging my already throughly hardened unit into her gaping mouth.

Her lips clamped downward instantly, impossibly soft, sucking me inward like a vacuum.

I gasped. It was an indescribable sensation, but that wasn't what had surprised me. The Vermyr was pulling me inward, literally dragging me into her with the power of her mouth alone.

The pressure should have been unbearable, but it wasn't. It was like her teeth had disappeared and she had sprouted multiple tongues. Hot flesh flexed around my ensnared tool, writhing and shifting with insane precision. I felt her lips press against my lower body, my not unremarkable member now completely lodged in her throat.

I looked down in absolute awe, and met her eyes. They stared directly up at me, glassy and unaware. It almsot looked like she was high. Her throat spasmed, and I thought for a moment she was gagging, but then I felt the gentle spasming continue. I groaned in disbelief, leaning to the side. The pleasure that was coursing through my veins was like sexual cocaine, but I was curious all the same. This was for research after all.

Miramae's neck was lean and beautiful, and I could see the adjusting tension of inhuman muscles beneath her skin working hard to milk me completely dry of any liquid they could. She was like a machine, engineered to provide the fullest extent of pleasure. Honeslty, I shouldn't have lasted more than ten seconds. No man on this earth could endure this amount of unadulterated bliss. But, somehow, I was still building towards climax.

I pulled backward, attempting to break free of her hold. I was intoxicated.

No, that wasn't quite right.

I felt a sense of induced sensory focus. Was she secreting something into me? Without question I was experiencing some kind of effect. Hyper awareness gripped every nerve of my body. I could feel every little flick, every pull, every caress of her mouth as she tended to me with impossible precision.

The pressure increased and I felt myself fully reinserted into her lustful prison with gusto. Her body was trembling, her own enjoyment mixing with mine to create wave after wave of indescribable rapture. I felt sharp, and my body felt strong. I felt like I could fight a horde of Dreads with energy to spare. Even so, my legs were wobbling like a newborn lamb's.

Had I activated Tempo? Had I opened the gate to Tasori in my blind excitement? No. No this was something different. I felt...I felt like I was going to explode.

My body shuddered, and a moment later I let out a roar unlike any noise I'd ever made in my entire life. It was a proclamation of euphoria from my very soul. The Vermyr was lost in her own world as she sucked load after load of my white hot ecstasy into her starving throat. It didn't stop. Whatever she'd been imbuing me with was most certainly increasing my output beyond natural capability.

I'd had orgasms that had left me exhausted, liberated, and content, but this was something different. Every drop of me that went into her made me grow, made me shake, made me finish harder. The warm, wonderful embrace of her pulled every last drop from me. It took almost as long for me to cease my climax as it had taken to reach it.

I felt a final spasm rip through me, and everything I could give was taken into the Vermyr. Then, and only then, did the pressure release. I stumbled backward, dislodging from the delightful strain of her throat, and fell to the floor. I still felt like I was superhuman, my increased vitality continuing on, but my whole body was trembling from the impossible pleasure.

I stared at the Vermyr, speechless as she swayed back and forth. Pale lines of energy traced across her skin, and her eyes were shimmering a violent white.

A pool of glistening liquid had formed beneath her spread legs, a steady drip falling from her excited lower lips. My body acted on its own accord and I leaned forward, my hand reaching out to the drenched crevice.

I ran my fingers along it, letting the strangely golden liquid coat my fingers. Instinct had gripped my mind again, and I brought my fingers to my mouth. It was warm; almost hot. It tasted of somehting akin to fresh berries and whipped cream, and it sent chills of cool refreshment through my entire body. It made no sense.