2 comments/ 51246 views/ 9 favorites My Carpathian Princess Ch. 01 By: jeffrey214 Veronica Stratford had an office on the 40th floor of the Massey Building. That was a very prestigious address, I thought, as I took the elevator up. I was responding to a very strange employment advertisement, tacked up in the Starbucks on the ground floor of the old building in which I had an apartment. I was working two part time jobs, since graduating high school, and I was 2 months behind on rent. The advertisement was so specific, and with some strange requirements. Wanted: Intelligent young man, 18-21, black hair, blue eyes, muscular, 5'10 or less, 180 lbs. or less, limited body hair, pale skin, no living relatives, orphan preferred. Must be willing to travel; work evenings and weekends, extended office hours, sleep-over when needed, and be willing to endure any hardship as require by Female employer. Must write well, have good phone skills, capable of organizing and filing, handling routine office tasks. Call for interview appointment, 555-1234. Needless to say, I was intrigued. I was 19, and strangely, I met every criterion. I wondered how many other boys could qualify based on the advert. The Elevator opened into the lobby of the 40th floor, revealing a reception desk in front of an old-looking masonry wall that bore the insignia "Stratford Enterprises". I walked to the receptionist, a buxom blonde in her thirties with bright blue eyes and a smile. "Hello, you must be Jeffrey," she said happily, "My name is Roxanne. Ms. Stratford is expecting you, and she is waiting for you in her office." She led me through an open room of glass-walled cubicles, each was big and roomy, and they were separated with ample walkways. I noted that all the inhabitants, perhaps two dozen employees, were all females in their 20's to 40's. They each gave me a smile as I passed, as though they were happy to see me. I thought it was quite odd that I didn't see any men in the big open room, but I figured the bosses were in meetings or something. My journey across the office complex ended at a large arched double door of ancient oak. It was rustic yet somehow fit perfectly into the ultra-modern décor of the offices. There was a small sign next to the door, modestly saying "Veronica Stratford". The door opened as if by magic as Roxanne and I approached, a simple wonder of technology, I thought. Roxanne stopped and shooed me inside, saying "good luck, Jeffrey." As the door closed behind me, I saw that the room was very large with doors on the sides leading to who knows what. Across the expanse of empty carpet was a large glass slab on two stone pillars, and a striking woman sitting behind the desk, looking at me with cold appraising eyes. She had long raven hair and startling grey eyes. She was dressed in a sharp business suit of the deepest blood red, with a lacy white blouse beneath her jacket, revealing a substantial cleavage. Her legs were crossed beneath the glass desk top, encased tightly in a skirt that rose to mid thigh. Her feet had matching pumps with 4" heels of the same deep blood red as her suit. She rose and fixed me with her amazing eyes; a smile played on her ruby-painted lips as she came around the large desk and began to walk toward me with the confident and sexually charged gate of a model. Her hand held a black file. "Hello, Jeffrey," said a deep and sensual voice, "I am Veronica Stratford. I am glad to meet you. Now she was standing before me and I realized that she must be inches over six feet tall with the heels, which would make her still taller than me in her bare feet. She towered over me as she stood motionless but full of grace and poise. My eyes could hardly keep from fixing on her substantial bosom; the pillowy softness of the white flesh had jiggled perfectly as she had walked to me. I was trying to look at her face but found it nearly impossible. She held out her hand and I took it automatically. Her hand was soft yet firm, though a bit cool. She held onto my hand as she eyed me up and down. I had worn my best suit, which was 3 years old and nearly didn't fit me anymore. My white shirt was worn and discolored, but my red silk tie was fairly new. "I, uh, I'm Jeffrey Blaine, ma'am. I'm here for the job interview." She smiled as her voice purred, "Of course you are, dear, please follow me." She turned and walked back across the office as I followed, affording me a view of her perfectly formed hips and her heart-shaped ass as it swayed in grace and majesty with every step in her tight skirt. It was a skirt with the slit in back between her legs, the hem a few inches above the knee, and each step gave me a tantalizing hint of smooth, white thigh. She was stunning, I decided. Already, I wanted the job even more. She gestured for me to stand in front of her desk as she took her seat again on the large black leather chair. There were no chairs across her desk, so I had no choice but to stand and look downward at her. This made it even more difficult for me to refrain from staring at her plump, exposed bosom. Her breasts were so soft looking; they jiggled with her every move and were like magnets to my eyes. She cleared her throat to regain my attention. "I see from your application file, Jeffrey, that you had good marks in school, and that you are unencumbered with family ties that could affect your position here. You seem like a perfect candidate, at least on paper. Physically, you look to be a good fit for our purposes at first glance, though your pre-employment physical will reveal the rest." She looked up into my eyes, and I made sure mine were fixed on her face this time, and not her breasts, like a young gentleman's should. The nuns had at least drilled that into him at the orphanage school. She continued, "I will now ask you a few questions of a very personal nature, Jeffrey. But have no doubt that your truthful answers will bear upon your approval for employment. If you lie, or fail to tell the full truth, I will know, and I will ask you to leave. You will find these questions embarrassing and even humiliating, but if you wish to earn a substantial salary on top of room, board, and living expenses, I suggest that you answer truthfully – no matter how hard it is to do. Have I made myself clear, Jeffrey?" There was something in her voice that pulled at things deep in my belly, and lower things, every time she said my name. It was as though – and I knew this was insane when I thought it – as though when she said my name, she had squeezed or pulled on my testicles. I knew it was mad to think so, but I had felt it. I shook my head to clear that thought away. "Yes, Ma'am, I will do my best," I said. Somehow, I knew that she was going to draw out my secrets, my sexual secrets, which I'd hidden all my life. I didn't know how I knew it, but I did. "Let us begin then, Jeffrey," I felt the tug again as she said my name. I also felt my penis begin to get hard. "When did you last masturbate?" I took a deep breath, "This morning, Ma'am." I was shocked at how quickly the truth fell from my lips. It was like I hadn't even thought – I simply spoke. She smiled, "Well done. Perhaps you'll do well with this, Jeffrey. How often do you masturbate each day?" "Once or twice, usually," I said. "I see. And what is the most common fantasy you think about, Jeffrey, as you stroke your penis all alone?" The tug was longer and harder that time, lasting as long as it took for her to say my name and then the word 'penis'. This was getting weirder... I answered, "It varies, depending on the most recent sexy thing I saw or heard or thought of." "Please give me five examples, Jeffrey." The tug was strong and I felt my penis really throbbing in my slacks, and it felt like my testicles had swollen. The briefs I wore were becoming uncomfortable and I wished there was more room for expansion in the little tight pouch. I wiggled my hips uncomfortably, trying to make room in the tight crotch of my pants. I heard my voice say, "I often imagine that I am masturbating for some woman as she watches. I think of a woman touching me and stroking me to force me to come for her pleasure and enjoyment. I sometimes imagine being a slave or captive, usually bound in some way and helpless, as I am used as a sexual toy by a woman. I imagine a woman kissing and licking and gently biting my inner thighs as I masturbate for her. I imagine a woman unzipping me on a train or in a car, taking my penis in her mouth and taking my semen from me. Things like that, Ma'am." Wow – I felt humiliated but also liberated as I made these confessions to a stranger and prospective employer. These were things I'd never told anyone before! Why was I able to say them so easily? "Describe the woman, in general, Jeffrey." I felt my testes roll in my scrotum, and it was such a strong sensation it hurt up into my abdominal cavity, but my penis was now fully erect and pressing powerfully enough to really stretch my briefs and tent my pants. I folded my hands over my crotch to try to cover up my obvious erection, but it was clear from her interested glances that she was well aware of my problem. I answered, "She is always dark haired, blue or grey eyes, tall, powerful, beautiful, busty, with great legs and high heels. She is strong, stronger than me, and I submit to her will. She is always fully dressed in powerful business attire, and I am always naked, or nearly so." These words just flowed out of my mouth like butter and I realized they were true. "And, Jeffrey, in your darkest fantasies – have you ever imagined this woman's mouth upon your testicles and sucking them?" When she said 'testicles', it was like a cord was wrapped around my genitals and she had pulled on it. I felt my hips swaying forward in response to the pull, nearly causing me to lose balance. "Yes," I whispered. "And does she take your fluids from your penis and testicles, leaving you empty and worn?" Again, a wave of pressure tugging at my groin, causing my penis to throb madly, and I began to worry that I might ejaculate right there in my pants. "Yes," I rasped, my throat had become strangely dry... "And lastly, Jeffrey, in your dreams, does this woman seem to enjoy – and even gain physical strength and health – from taking your fluids?" I was right at the edge of climax. My knuckles were white and I was making fists – squeezing my hands as they tried to cover my surging erection. Gritting my teeth as I stood before her, I gasped, "Yes, Ma'am." Suddenly, she sat back in her chair and grinned, and the pressure on my groin lessened, allowing me to back away from the edge of ejaculation. I found that my hands had fallen to my sides and now my erection was obvious in my pants in her clear view. She just threw her head back and chuckled deep in her throat. It didn't seem like she was laughing at me, but more that she was simply very happy. I couldn't help but smile in response. "Very good, Jeffrey," she said warmly. She touched a button on a flat panel embedded in her desk top and said, "Roxanne, please escort Jeffrey to the clinic for examination." In a few seconds, the big doors of Ms. Stratford's private office opened silently, and I watched Roxanne shimmy and jiggle across the expanse of carpet in her four inch heels. She smiled brightly, as always. I thought they were a marvelous invention – high heels– which had the three-fold purpose of making a woman's feet and legs look spectacular, making her hips sway more seductively as she walked, and causing her breasts to bounce and jiggle delightfully with the impact of each heel on the floor. A pair of heels turned a woman into a WOMAN. This observation, of course, did nothing to lessen the noticeable bulge in my pants, particularly as Roxanne seemed reluctant to take her eyes off of it. This must be how women felt when men looked them in the chest, I thought. I returned her smile as she took my hand and briskly led me out of Ms. Stratford's office, scarcely giving me opportunity to look over my shoulder and say a quick, "Thank you, Ma'am," to Ms. Stratford. "My pleasure, Jeffrey," she said in a sultry voice that again I felt pulling me back to her by my genitals. I must be imagining it, I thought. We walked right back out into the open warren of beautiful business associates. I was again treated to the sight of so many legs, skirts, pumps, blouses, and suit jackets, all sizes shapes and colors, adorning a bevy of beautiful and intelligent women. Not one had a 'bimbo' look about her, but each one paused in her tasks long enough to give me the once-over, head to toe, and always with a lingering glance at the bulge in my pants and a warm smile for my face. Several women added a delicate wave of greeting with red-lacquered nails on a soft and feminine hand. Others gave a sly wink. Others gave me a sultry "Hi again, Jeffrey." And a few blew me an air-kiss. But most unnerving was the fact that I caught almost all of them licking their lips at some point in my journey through their gauntlet. I scanned the arena and confirmed that I was, indeed, the only male presence among all of these gorgeous 40-something executives and their 20-something assistants. At nineteen years old, I was hardly a match for this much estrogen, and felt like I was being ogled by every one of them, and that I was to them equal parts eye candy, and some kind of dessert to be tasted. My penis was throbbing hard and walking around under their gazes at my obvious erection was exciting and terrifying. I couldn't cover myself without being obvious, since Roxanne held my hand pulling me along behind her. I had no choice but to pretend there was nothing below my belt buckle to see. Everything was normal... Yeah, right. We arrived at a far corner of the room, where there was yet another glass cubical. This one had some sheer curtains on the inside, such that I could see objects and people moving, but couldn't make out any detail unless the angle was such as to see through the gaps between curtain panels. There were a few 4 to 6 inch-wide gaps here and there in the gauzelike white fabric. Roxanne ushered me in through a glass door to find two women in lab coats. One was the stunning, 40-something, red-headed who introduced herself as Dr. Eliza Marsdale, and the other was a young, busty brunette, Nurse Sherri Peters. They each greeted me warmly and shook my hand as Roxanne introduced me and told them that Ms. Stratford had approved of my in my initial interview, and had directed that I undergo the usual pre-employment physical examination. This seemed to please the medical professionals greatly. They took charge of me instantly and ushered me behind a changing screen. "Jeffrey," said Dr. Marsdale, "Please take off all of your clothes and put on the supplied gown you'll find hanging there." That took me by surprise. I was expecting a pressure cuff, temperature, maybe a blood sample. Undressing was not what I had expected. I looked behind me and saw there was a full 6" gap in the curtain, as well as the fact the I could see the women in the office moving around – which meant that they could see me. Knowing I could do nothing but cooperate if I wanted the job – and I did - so I bravely turned away from the curtain and began to undress. I was soon at the moment of truth – whether or not to remove my little white briefs. I remembered that the doctor had specifically asked that I take off "all my clothes", and I wasn't fool enough to think that it didn't include my underwear. I put the gown on first, and then slipped my briefs down, letting them fall to my ankles and stepped out of them. I dared not look behind me to see if the office staff was watching; I somehow knew they were as I bent to pick up my underwear and lay them neatly atop the other clothes. I still had the erection that wouldn't go away and it pushed the front of the gown out lewdly, but I walked boldly around the screen and presented myself to the doctor and nurse. The gown was short, and I was sure if I bent over again I would bare my bottom. It seemed even shorter in front from being pushed outward by my erection, and I wondered if they could see my testicles hanging below the hem. I held my breath as the two women eyed me for just a moment too long. Dr. Marsdale said, "Jeffrey, please hop up onto the exam table and lie down on your back." Oh, no, this is horrible, I thought, my erection will be even more obvious and humiliating. But I climbed up on the table, laid down, and tried to pull the front of my gown down far enough to have some modesty, but as I lay my head on the little sanitary pillow, I could feel cool air on my testicles and knew they were exposed. The Doctor and Nurse took up stations on my left side, nearest their cabinets and charting area, the Nurse Peters put a pressure cuff on my arm and stuck a thermometer in my mouth, while Dr. Marsdale stood lower down the table by my left knee. I watched the smile on her face as her eyes casually slid back and forth between my face, Nurse Peters, and the tent in my gown. I knew she could plainly see my testicles and perhaps the base of my penis too. She gently placed her hand on my upper thigh, just below the hem of my gown, and casually remarked, "So, Jeffrey, how did the interview go? Did you like Ms. Stratford?" "I think she's wonderful," I said, not really knowing why. I mean, I did think she was wonderful, but I wasn't sure that's the best thing to say about your boss. It seemed unprofessional. "Well, that's good," she said. She picked up a chart and said, "Today, we're going to take a few samples. I see orders here for blood, urine, and semen, so that shouldn't take long, although it looks like we may need to change the order of the tests..." Her eyes twinkled at her little joke, and she looked directly at my stiff penis, making the gown tent. Nurse Peters stifled a giggle. She continued, "I think it would be best, Jeffrey, to save time by taking the blood and semen samples simultaneously." She flipped up the hem of my gown to expose my nakedness, as though she did it all the time. She produced a small bottle of lubrication from her pocket and squirted it liberally onto the head of my penis. I was frozen as if in shock as the two women looked at my throbbing erection, dripping and glistening with lubricant. Dr. Marsdale took reached over and took my right hand, placing it around my penis while Nurse Peters removed the pressure cuff from my arm and the thermometer from my mouth. "You may begin stroking your penis, Jeffrey," said the Doctor calmly. I began to rub myself, and looking up I noticed again how sheer were the curtains and how plentiful the gaps. I now could see feminine heads swiveling all over the room toward the clinic area. Women seemed to migrate closer to the clinic with files and urgent messages for those in the nearest cubicals. They pretended that they weren't trying to look in, but it was clear that they were. I sighed in resignation and laid my head back down. They were going to watch anyway and there was nothing I could do about it, so I tried to think of something that would help me to cum quickly. "Be sure to let me know when you are nearing ejaculation, Jeffrey," said Dr. Marsdale, now holding a small glass beaker while staring fixedly at my hand as it rubbed up and down on my hard penis. "I'll want to capture the entire sample as we are testing for volume as well as quality." "Yes, Doctor," I said, humiliated beyond words. Meanwhile, Nurse Peters was tying off my upper arm and swabbing the crook of my elbow while keeping her eyes on my penis. I guess she had done it so many times that she could do it without looking. She brought the needle, which looked really big, right up to my arm and stopped. She stared at my glistening penis and my pumping fist, as though waiting for something. My Carpathian Princess Ch. 01 I closed my eyes and thought of Ms. Stratford. I imagined myself standing in front of her desk and masturbating while she watched. I imagined her holding out her hand, palm up, waiting for me to deposit my semen onto her soft fingers. For my part, I was quickly nearing the point of no return. Dr. Marsden started caressing my inner thigh, letting her hand slide up and 'accidentally' touching my testicles with each upward stroke. Her touch sent me to the brink, making me rub my penis faster as I gasped, "I'm coming, Doctor..." Just as the first spurt shot from my penis into the carefully positioned beaker, I felt Dr. Marsdale thrust her experienced fingers between my testicles and probe my perineum firmly, pushing on my prostate gland, and heightening my urgency to ejaculate. At the same time, Nurse Peters pressed the needle deep into my arm, stripped the tourniquet off of my arm and let my blood flow rich and red into the large tube, pumping into the glass cylinder with the beat of my heart. Dr. Marsdale started pushing hard on my perineum in time with my spurts, making them bigger and more powerful, forcing more semen and bigger spurts than I'd ever had. She coached me as I ejaculated, "Yes, that's it, big spurts Jeffrey, yes, keep going, stroke your penis hard and give us all of your semen. Keep spurting, you can give more, that's it, you're doing great, yes, good boy, more, more, push harder, yes!" I just kept coming and coming, spurt after thick spurt, and then dribbles, and more dribbles, and drop after drop. Finally, I was exhausted and let go of my penis, sighing in relief. But Nurse Peters just attached the fourth big tube and kept drawing blood. Dr. Marsdale took hold of my softening penis and started milking it from base to tip, getting just another drop or two. I was exhausted and felt light headed. I felt truly drained when nurse peters finally took out the needle, applied a bandage and bent my arm. My penis was numb from over-stimulation, but when I saw the women smiling at each other, I looked at what they were holding. Dr. Marsdale's little semen beaker was half full, and Nurse Peters was holding up five large tubes of blood. No wonder I was light-headed I thought. Just as I passed out, I could have sworn Dr. Marsdale had bent over and begun sucking greedily on my limp, sated penis. But that couldn't have been... I awoke to the sound of female voices. They seemed to be arguing, or at least discussing something important. I caught bits and pieces of conversations as my brain tried to re-booted from a hard shut-down. It seemed that a few of the younger women were trying to get into the medical station, and were being prevented from doing so at the door by their elders. I heard things like, "Can't you smell him?... He's resting........ Please Madame...... not important... but I smell the semen...... perhaps another time..... one taste, I beg you..... no, not now, he can hear you, you little slut..... " It certainly didn't make sense to me and I drifted out again. When I next awoke, I was laying on a couch in the corner of Ms. Stratford's office. The door was closed and we were alone. She was sitting on a chair beside me, stroking my head gently. "Ah, you're awake, ma gallant. Are you feeling better?" "Uh, yes Ma'am," I said, still dazed, "what happened?" She pursed her lips in disapproval. "I think Nurse Peters took too much blood at once for the tests, and you succumbed. Not to worry, you'll be fine, just rest and I'll get you something to drink." She reached over and picked up a glass of orange juice and handed it to me. "Thank you," I said. I lifted my head, with her hand behind it for support, and gulped the juice down. I was very thirsty. It was then that I noticed I was dressed in a pair of strange shorts. They were very baggy and pleated, but made of a delicate gauze-like material. I had a matching shirt, short-sleeved and cropped short above the waist. I looked up at her with a question. "I took the liberty of dressing you, once they brought you to me," she said, "This was the only garment suitable for a boy that I have here at this time." "Where are my clothes?" I asked. "I'm sorry, but I think someone mistakenly tossed them out. They were not of good quality anyway. Do not worry, ma gallant, I will dress you in finery soon enough. These clothes are...suitable for your current situation." I stared blankly into her eyes, not understanding. She smiled and caressed my face with a soft cool hand. "You're hired, my dear," she said happily, "Your fluid samples tested very well..." she licked her lips, "very well indeed..." she whispered. When I had regained sufficient strength to sit up, Ms. Stratford helped me to do so. She seemed very unsure of my condition; she continually looked at me with concern on her face, and her supporting hands never left me. Somehow, even with the strange events since my arrival at Stratford Enterprises, her touch seemed to comfort me and give me the feeling that I was alright. "Here, let me sit beside you, Jeffrey," she said as she slipped into the space between my hips and the arm of the sofa. I thought I heard a faint accent in her voice. Something eastern European perhaps, but I certainly didn't have a lot of experience with accents so I wasn't at all sure. She put her arm around my shoulders and said, "Why don't you lie down, dear? You can rest your head in my lap." I found my body shifting weakly into position at her suggestion, strangely drawn of its own accord to obey her sultry and seductive voice. With my head cradled in her lap, my ankles were propped up on the opposite arm of the couch. I felt very warm and relaxed and very safe. I nearly started to lose consciousness again but then I felt her body shifting and one of her hands was working at the buttons of her blouse. I hadn't even noticed that her suit jacket was already opened and the lacy blouse was against my face. "Jeffrey," she whispered, and I opened my eyes to see her push open her blouse to reveal a sheer bra cup of white lace. It looked so wonderful, I smiled. Her fingers deftly flicked the front hook of the bra open and her large, plump breast flowed outward, relieved of its confinement. She pushed the cup away from the half of her breast still covered and I saw her large brown smooth areola capped with a bountiful but not over-large nipple. She held her breast out to me and raised my head to her with her cradling arm. I opened my mouth automatically to accept the warm gift of comfort and affection she offered me. I felt warm and grateful all over. "Just close your eyes, little one, and drink of me. I will explain later, my dear." My eyes closed and I began to gently suckle. I felt warm milk suddenly begin to fill my mouth and I swallowed happily. I had never had a mother, I realized. Something deep inside me wanted this. The thought that she should not be of the age to give milk crossed my mind, but was shooed away as she began to rock me and coo softly in my ear. "Yes, that's it, good boy," she whispered. "Just drift away and suckle me, dear one. It is what you need and you will awaken refreshed and strong. Then we will talk and your destiny will be revealed..." I only remember drifting off to sleep with her voice softly caressing me and her arm cradling my head and her hand caressing my face as I drank the warm life-giving milk from her soft breast. I felt completely at peace. As though I was home at last... My Carpathian Princess Ch. 02 I awoke, I don't know how much later, on the sofa in Ms. Stratford's office. The sun was setting and she was standing in front of the wall of glass, watching the yellow disc falling behind the buildings across the river. She was picturesque, standing in her heels and smart business suit that showed her curves nicely while maintaining and air of formality. I watched her standing motionless for a moment, almost as though she was not breathing. I looked down at my body, flat on the sofa, and again noticed that I was wearing the shorts and shirt of white material. It was thin and gauzy, and as the horizontal rays of the sun hit me, I could see the sheerness of the outfit. It was strangely comfortable, and the room was warm, so the thin fabric's lack of insulation didn't bother me. Then I remembered how I came to find myself on the couch in her office, dressed as I was. I felt very embarrassed, remembering the 'interview' with its intimate questions and my truthful and revealing answers. How I had walked all the way through the den of females to the clinic with a raging erection. How I had undressed in the clinic cubical, and then laid on the table masturbating to produce a semen sample. And then I woke up on the sofa and Ms. Stratford had comforted me and...oh my...nursed me to sleep at her breast. I wondered what parts of those memories were true, and which memory was the result of strange dreams brought on by blood loss. Nurse Peters had filled 5 very large tubes, and I had no idea how much blood she had taken. And the semen sample! How humiliating that was! I sat up, blushing in my shame, thinking that Ms. Stratford could be very angry at me. She must have noticed because she turned and began to walk toward me across the wide expanse of carpet. Again I marveled at her, walking like a trained dancer or model, so graceful and perfect with every movement, and her cleavage jiggling so enchantingly with each step. I just couldn't take my eyes off of her, she was so fascinating. I'd always been attracted to women older than my 19 years, but I'd never really considered a woman who was obviously in her late forties. Ms. Stratford was clearly gorgeous, but in an amazing mature way that, for me, simply added to her attractiveness. She came to a stop just in front of me and held out her hands to help me up. I took them and stood, finding that there was very little space between the sofa and her body, such that I couldn't help but bump her out-thrust breasts as I did so. "Sorry," I muttered in embarrassment. 'Ah, my sweet, don't be..." she said as she took me in her arms. In her heels, it was natural for me to rest my head on her shoulder with my face nestled in her neck. I could feel the rise and fall of her ample bosom against my chest, and I could smell her perfume mixed with her own scent. She felt and smelled so wonderful! With one hand she held me around my shoulders and with her other hand she caressed the back of my head. My arms had naturally fallen around her waist, wrapping at the small of her back on the upper portion of her skirt. We just held each other for a moment and she began to whisper softly in my ear. "My Jeffrey," she purred, pausing a long time as thought it was a statement of fact and not a prelude to more words. Then she said, "Are you feeling better, dear?" As she asked the question, I felt the tug in my lower abdomen again, but it was warm and comforting, rather than a strong pull, like I had experienced before. Now that I thought of it, I did feel very good; energized in fact. I whispered into her neck, "I feel very...good, Ms. Stratford." "Jeffrey..." she said with a mock corrective tone, "you must call me Veronica from now on." Then her voice became the purr again; "We've shared...intimate things...you know, and so we can be more...intimate...with our names." Each time she said the word 'intimate', it felt like a warm invisible hand was caressing me between my legs, and my penis pulsed in response. My knees were a little weak for a moment, and then it passed. Recovering from the sensation, I whispered, "Uh, ok, Veronica." "Good boy," she said stepping out of the embrace and again taking my hand in hers, "Let's get you something to eat, I'm sure a boy your age must be ravenous." "Yes, Ma'am," I said, and then quickly added, "Veronica." I saw her grin to herself, as she led me across her enormous office to where the bar was. She bent over and started rooting around in the refrigerator, tossing packaged sandwiches, yogurt, and cookies onto the bar. From my perspective the view was outstanding as she bent entirely at the waist, giving me an amazing view of her tight skirt encasing her shapely ass and the slit in the back of her skirt rode up the lace tops of her black patterned stockings. Oh boy, I thought, keep yourself under control! She turned to look over her shoulder and caught me staring at her ass, and she was just a little slow straightening back up, and her face was beaming. "Jeffrey," she purred, "What were you staring at?" "Uh...oh...um, well, your skirt was uh, well, uh..." She turned fully to face me, "I know you were looking at me, Jeffrey. I saw you. Around me you must never be embarrassed to be a boy; it is natural, and flattering to me. I don't mind you looking at me. In fact, it pleases me very much." She smiled with her beautiful lips and eyes, and leaned closer to whisper, "And at my age, it is very flattering to have a handsome young man want to look." Her bending over toward me allowed the swell of her ample breasts to billow forth atop her bra and my eyes couldn't hold hers without taking a quick peek. She smiled again quickly and I blushed, embarrassed that she had caught me a second time. She turned to the offerings on the bar top and said, "What looks good to you, starving boy?" I chose the roast beef sandwich, key lime pie yogurt, some oatmeal raisin cookies, and a coke. "Excellent choices, dear," she said, putting the other items back for later. I wolfed it all down quickly, surprised at how hungry I was. I guessed giving blood makes a guy need some sustenance! As I finished the last cookie and took the last drink of coke, I saw that she was looking at the window and watching the last bit of sunset. It was beautiful, so I just stood beside her a couple minutes and we watched the colors fade together. She then turned to me with a more serious look on her face, and spoke in a soft voice. "Jeffrey," she said, "I think now would be a good time for us to have a little chat. I'm sure you have many questions, and now is the time I must give you the answers." She paused, looking into my eyes, and she took my hand in hers. "Come with me and trust me, Jeffrey, there are many things that I will tell you that will be hard to believe, but I will tell you the truth." She turned and led me by the hand to her desk. She sat down in her chair and swiveled it to face me. She put her hands on my hips and pulled me close so that my feet were between hers on the floor. Somehow I was calm inside as I waited for her to speak. But she didn't talk. Instead she looked in my eyes as I felt her hands take hold of the little draw string bow at the waist of my shorts and begin to untie it. When it was undone, her hands slipped to the sides of my hips and she took hold of the shorts and began to slowly lower them. "It's ok, Jeffrey," she said, "Trust me." Her voice again caused the gentle caress between my thighs and my penis began to swell. I was suddenly full of erotic feelings, images of me naked and her head between my spread legs shot across my mind. It was seductive and I couldn't resist the feelings. A sigh escaped my lips as I felt the diaphanous shorts fall to the floor and puddle at my ankles. My eyes never left hers, nor could they. And her eyes never left mine. With her hands back on my hips, she guided me to move so that my bottom was now against her desk, and my legs were spread on either side of her knees. It felt warm and safe and natural to be in this position with her, and I didn't know why. Her eyes were like shining pools of blue/grey, as though they were luminescent, possessing their own internal power source. She just held me there with her eyes on mine and her hands gently on my hips. Slowly, her eyes began to travel down my body, breaking the spell, and I came back to myself at least enough to follow her gaze. My penis was half erect and throbbing slightly with the beat of my heart. I noticed that my heart must have been beating fast. Her eyes came to rest on my naked genitals, throbbing and dangling between my spread thighs. "Oh Jeffrey," she purred, "How beautiful you are..." I felt a very deep pull in my tummy, and my penis throbbed to full erection before her eyes. It felt like my genitals were being pulled from my body and she had to steady my hips to keep me from stumbling forward. "I'm sorry, dear," she said softly, "I should be more careful. Please relax and lay back, Jeffrey." I found myself leaning back onto her desk, for a brief moment I was cognizant of my predicament and how lewd it was for me to be laying down naked and erect on this woman's desk, but the thought passed quickly, leaving no memory. "It's alright, dear," she said, and I believed her. She settled me back so that I was staring at the ceiling, and then she guided my feet up and put them on her arm rests, and then her hands gently pushed my knees apart, spreading my thighs wide. "I'm going to tell you things now, Jeffrey, so I want you to be quiet and just listen. Take deep relaxing breaths and listen to my voice. That's a good boy..." I breathed deeply, settling into a state of total relaxation, but with my ears finely tuned to her voice as she spoke. She told me the following. She had been born a princess in a remote mountain region of Eastern Europe in 1114 AD. She was an adventurous young girl, always a trial to her noble mother, and routinely ignored by her father, a minor Baron with small holdings many days' ride from Prague. Veronica was always an inquisitive child and loved to explore the mountains she called home. At the age of 16 she had discovered a cave high on a cliff and far from her father's castle. As she explored the cave by torchlight, she shooed away many bats but that was only natural for a cave in the mountains, and the bats were harmless. The Cave's opening was small, but it seemed to go on forever. She delved deeper and deeper, and after many hours of curiosity in the labyrinth of tunnels and switchbacks, she came upon a strange site. There was the body of a man in crude armor, sitting on a large throne-like wooden chair. It was a very old body, completely dry as the wood of the chair he was on. She noticed that the body was shackled down to the chair and the chair was bolted to the floor with large metal spikes. In the sparse firelight she saw the chains glimmer, and rubbing them she deduced that the chains were of silver, just like the crucifix she wore. She thought it odd that the burial would have been done by some long-forgotten race by chaining the corpse down to a chair. She studied the figure and its predicament for a long time, and intelligent girl that she was, she deduced a number of things. First, that what she had thought was armor, was actually some sort of plate-metal cage surrounding the body that was staked to the chair. Second, there were two large bumps on the front of the 'armor'. That, and the long and flowing hair, though wasted by time, gave her the idea that this figure was actually a woman. This revelation was a strange thought for the 12th century, when women were the property of fathers and husbands. That this woman was so honored as to have a very special, though macabre, burial meant that she was either very important or very much feared. She lowered the torch and discovered that the weathered and centuries-hardened nails of the corpse matched the cuts and scratches on the wooden chair arms below them. This was a shock! This poor woman had been chained here alive! What a horrible death, she had thought. She began to feel sorry for the victim of such a terrible torture, dying all alone in the cave, no one to help her, no water, and no food for days until unconsciousness had freed her. Young Veronica looked around more and found a small chest under the chair. She pulled out the box and looked inside, and there was a delicate vellum parchment, hardened by ages, with Latin writing. Roman writing! Veronica's mother was a wise woman with the wealth to see that her only daughter was educated. Veronica was well-versed in the thoughts of Aristotle, Euclid, and Socrates. She had read well the writings of the Romans, Pliny and Caesar and Aurelius. She could read Latin, and did so. Loosely translated, the scrawling hand on the vellum said: TO ANY UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO READ THIS PILATE MAGNUS, CENTURION OF THE 7TH, FIRST SPEAR IF YOU HAVE NOT BURNT HER ALREADY, DO SO NOW. SHE IS OF THE UNDEAD OF THE CARPATHIANS, CENTURIES OLD DO NOT TRUST HER, SHE BETRAYED HER SISTERS TO OUR HANDS WE BELIEVE SHE IS THE LAST OF HER KIND, BUT ONE IS NEVER SURE. WE VOWED BY APHRODITE NOT TO KILL HER, AND SO PUT HER HERE YOU ARE NOT BOUND BY THIS OATH. BURN HER NOW. While Veronica was reading, she heard a scuffling sound. Looking up, she thought she saw one of the corpse's hands move against the chain. A raspy voice like the crackling of leaves said, in Latin, "Greetings sister." And the corpse coughed, spewing dust and bits of flesh. Veronica was so surprised; she fell backward, dropping the torch, but recovered quickly and nursed the weak embers back to life. She realized she was running out of light, and quickly, so long had been her explorations this day. In halting Latin, Veronica said, "You speak..." The copse nodded its head. Veronica held out the vellum, "Is this true?" "Yesssss," the corpse whispered, "it is my shame." The young girl approached the 'dead' body, wanting to see more closely in the dying light of the torch. She saw clear blue eyes behind the desiccated lids as they opened to look back at her. The corpse struggled a moment in futility, hoping that the centuries had changed the condition of the chains, but silver doesn't rust, and so her bonds still held. "What are you?" asked the girl. "Wampyrie!" spat the corpse. "How can you be alive -- after so long?" "Undead. Need...blood...I can make...you...immortal..." The husk of a body seemed to be rousing, sniffing the air, agitated. Veronica stopped to think about her young life. She had been betrothed to a neighboring Duke of 40 years when she was 14. She'd met the wine-sodden, belching oaf only once, but that was enough to hate him. She'd hoped he had died of gout or plague or battle, but her father had received word in the last month that he'd soon be coming to collect his 'love'. Disgusting. She wondered about a life, a noble one -- well clothed and fed surely -- but otherwise horrid in a thousand ways. She loved the freedom and fresh air of the mountains and hated the stale stench of the castle in winter, shut up against the cold and full of the wretched leavings of medieval human existence. When shut up in her room of the castle, she'd often thought of ending her life alone in that cold stone box. But then she would dream of the mountains, the eagle and the bear, the wolf and the bat, fox and rabbit, and the world seemed alive with promise. But now Duke Vlad was coming for her. And the Dracul family was known for its' excess of drink and carousing and the duke's promiscuity was legendary. Her father was a pig for giving her to him. Probably got a small flock of sheep for her, she thought. That's my worth in their eyes, she marveled, that I be traded like a fine cow... She looked at the corpse, and with a commanding voice, uncommon for a virgin of her age. "Tell me everything, and make it quick." Veronica tore ancient cloth from the chair and from the corpse, wrapping it onto the torch to extend its life as she listened to the undead crone's rasping voice from the shadows of the cave. The corpse knew only that there had been Wampyrie as long as anyone could remember. Perhaps it was a disease like plague, or a curse, no one knows. The only food to keep a Wampyrie alive is human blood, nothing else will do. What is known is that Wampyrie are only women, made by a bite. Men are immune, but any woman bitten will become Wampyrie. Men, therefore, are a Wampyrie's food, but if you drain them they will die. Best to take only what you need from them in their sleep. The older the Wampyrie, the more powerful, and psychic power of the mind grows year by year until an old one knows what others are thinking. The corpse thought she was the eldest alive, perhaps the only, but she was not sure. If she bit Veronica and drank blood, Veronica would become Wampyrie, and live by the blood of humans forever. And corpse would survive and be grateful. Without blood, the corpse had little chance of lasting the remainder of the century. Veronica thought on these things for a long time, but also worried about the torch. Finally she said, "What is your name?" "Vashta. I am of the clan of the brother of Attila, King of the Huns. I was wife to Eschar of Scithia, but he is now long dead. Who are you, my child?" "I am Veronica, daughter of Parek, Princess of these lands." "And you travel in caves alone..." Vashta laughed and coughed, spitting more dust and filthier things. "Then Veronica Parek, come to my embrace," she rasped, "and live forever your own woman on the blood of men." Veronica found herself moving forward toward the aged Wampyrie. She stopped in front of the bound corpse. "Lift your pretty wrist to my mouth, dear," said the desiccated body, "and I will make you immortal in exchange for some life-giving blood." Veronica thought of Vlad. She thought of her brothers and cousins. She thought of her father. She even thought of her mother, and for the first time, hated her for being so weak, serving the men, when her mother's blood was far more noble than the low nobility of Parek, her husband. Her mother was the third daughter of Ivan, the King of Moldavia, whereas her father's father simply had a lot of cows. In an instant, Veronica's wrist shot out and she held it to the corpse's mouth. Fangs were bared and the pain was sharp and immediate. In addition to the blood greedily slurped by the Wampyrie, a trickle ran down to her elbow and onto the floor. Quickly, Veronica's head began to swim, the room grew darker, and she swooned. She came to herself shortly, seeing that the torch still had a small flame. She stood on shaky legs as she pushed the torch toward the seated figure, to see if it had all been a dream. The Wampyrie smiled up at her with red lips and a dripping chin. "Many thanks," it said in Latin, with a much more human voice. As Veronica looked at her face, the woman now seemed perhaps as old as a grandmother. The offering of blood seemed to have quickly restored the Wampyrie from dried corpse to an old woman in poor health, though her eyes still shown with internal blue fire. "So you will live then," said Veronica. "And you will die in 3 days," said the Wampyrie watching Veronica's reaction of fear. "Don't worry, the first night you are dead, I will find you, because you will rise. I will not let them burn you nor bury you too deep. Fear not, with me a bargain is a done thing." "So, now I must trust you?" said Veronica. "You already have, and I thank you. You are not Roman, your Latin is horrible. I hold no ill will to you. Now help me from these chains and we will find our way out of here in the darkness." The corpse looked at the last dying light of the torch, as it snuffed itself out. My Carpathian Princess Ch. 02 With an effort, Veronica had released the Wampyrie from her bonds, who in turn, lead Veronica out of the cave and into the first starlight of darkness. They stood together on the cliff as the old woman took her first breaths of clean air in at least 6 centuries. In the starlight, Veronica could see the woman's body for the first time since drinking the blood. She was a wrinkled hag with sagging flesh, wrapped in small scraps of rotting fabric. She looked horrible. The Wampyrie released Veronica's hand and said, "Go back to your home. You will fall ill in the morning and die in three days. I must find food elsewhere, and will return in my full powers to take you from the grave." The old woman looked at herself, "Gods," she rasped, "I won't look like this for long..." Veronica was amazed as she watched the hag scramble swiftly down the sheer face of the mountain, something young Veronica would never attempt. Veronica made her way down the mountain and back to the castle by starlight. She was brought before her father who, with drunken bravado, beat her for being missing all day and half the night. As she lay on the bed that night, seething with hatred and desire for revenge rather than crying from her father's harsh treatment, she felt the pain in her abdomen begin. This was the pain that would bring her death in two more days. Much later, she learned that Wampyrism attacks the womb and ovaries first, which must have something to do with its spread solely among women. For two days, she lay wracked in torment, finally breathing her last on a Saturday in July. Being that it was hot, her father said a few words over her grave on Sunday while her mother cried, and then the men buried her, long before word of her death had reached the priest in a neighboring village. They had wrapped her body in thick burlap cloth over her maiden gown, dropped her into the shallow hole they had dug, and covered her up. That night beneath 18" of dirt and a pile of rocks -- just as the moon began to rise -- Veronica's eyes opened again. Within a few minutes she heard scrabbling above her and the dirt began to shift. She felt her cloth-shrouded face was uncovered as the pressure of the dirt disappeared. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and roughly pulled the rest of her body out from under hundreds of pounds of dirt and rock, and stood her on her feet. Claw-like nails tor the outer shroud away, releasing Veronica to stand in her white gown, under the moon, in front of Vashta, the Wampyrie. Vashta's appearance was much improved. She now appeared as a well-maintained 50-year-old woman, with beautiful blonde hair, blue twinkling eyes, and a full, rounded figure. She was striking. The Wampyrie spoke in a halting version of the Moldavian dialect, "Let's get something to eat, pretty one -- I'm starving!" She smiled and held out her hand to the young and newly-undead Virgin. Veronica did feel quite hungry, but other than that, all the pain was gone and she felt very fit -- even very strong -- much stronger than she had ever felt! The two women walked away from the graveyard toward the nearby edge of the forest where Vashta had hobbled two horses. They climbed and rode at a cantor several miles, to a village far from the castle. Vashta explained that she had selected a certain family because they had twin boys of about 20 summers old, who were fit and full of male virility. This comment embarrassed Veronica who admitted that she had never seen or touched a boy, not even her brothers. Vashta laughed for a long time before saying, "Well, my virgin Wampyrie, that's why we try to avoid making young Wampyrie. My advice is to avoid it at almost all costs, as I have until you. I felt it was worth it, in this case only. Now then, we are going to go into the boys' room, and each of us will take a boy." She looked at the bewilderment written on Veronica's face and sighed. Vashta continued, "It is best to take them between their legs for two reasons; first, nobody looks there for bite marks. Second, you are well positioned to take the boy's manly juices with ease, which will be very satisfying, like blood, and will keep the pain of the disease in your belly from coming back. And no male has ever woken from sleep, with a woman's mouth on him there, and tried to escape or called for help. So you're relatively safe even if he were to wake. In time you'll have many boys who will beg you to visit them regularly. And that, my dear, is how we make our living." Veronica's eyes went wide. "Manly juices?" she wondered, "You mean, like a stallion covers a mare?" When Vashta had stopped laughing and wiped her eyes, she said, "Listen, child, there are things about being Wampyrie that you will learn in time. To be Wampyrie is to be a woman, and a hungry woman who needs every drop of precious life-giving fluid that a male can give her. We are gentle and kind. We do not kill our boys from overuse. We even get pleasure from their pleasure. We do not abuse our power over men, but stay safe and quiet and out of the way." Veronica still was quite hesitant to say anything, and just decided she'd follow Vashta's lead. About 3 hours before daylight, the two Wampyrie went through the window of the small cottage, into the room shared by the two brothers. They found the boys lying side by side on top of their covers since it was a warm night. Both boys were on their backs. Both boys were naked. Vashta licked her lips and whispered "how perfect..." as she moved to kneel between the thighs of the boy nearest the window. Veronica watched in utter shock as Vashta spread the boy's thighs farther apart and gently held his penis and testicles to the side to open up a wide area of tender flesh just where his inner thigh met his hip joint, right next to his genitals. Vashta's fangs came into view and she lowered her head and set them into the boy's intimate flesh. Veronica could see her throat working as she swallowed pulse after pulse of blood. Her body writhed languidly in pleasure as she feasted on the rich red liquid. The boy seemed to stir, but then was calm again. Veronica took note that the boy's penis seemed to be getting bigger -- just like a stallion on the scent of a mare. Without stopping her feast, Vashta's hand moved to wrap her fingers around the boy's stiffening and growing member and she began to gently stroke it. Veronica was fascinated by the sights before her and the smells of men. She had been a normal girl, with occasional thoughts of boys and husband that would strangely warm her thighs, but to see the male nakedness, to smell their scent, and now to see the tumescent penis being stroked by a woman's hand, it was almost too much! She looked at the sleeping boy who would be her first. He seemed so beautiful, so muscular and manly, and his genitals! Lightly dusted with blond hair; the penis so big and plump and full of promise. She studied its shape, its color. The tube of flesh covered in foreskin, and she thought of the pink bulbous prize hidden under the overlap of skin. She looked back to Vashta's stroking hand and studied the pink head of the other boy's penis as Vashta's hand coursed the downward strokes, pulling the foreskin and revealing the delicious-looking pink mushroom. So shapely and fine, she was eager to have one of her own to taste and touch. Where were these thoughts coming from!? She wondered, as her hand caressed her belly, now filled with tightness on the verge of pain. She remembered the 'disease' that had killed her, and the pain in her womanly parts. She remembered that Vashta said the male issue -- his seed -- would abate the pain she could feel coming again... After a few minutes, Vashta released her bite at the juncture of the boy's inner thigh and licked the wound several times until it stopped bleeding, leaving two tiny incisions visibly closing over and disappearing right before her eyes. Then Vashta lifted her head and placed her lips against the boy's soft scrotum, pulling some of the tender skin into her mouth as she continued to gently stroke his penis. She made a small but quick movement with her jaw and began to lap vigorously with her tongue and suck on the loose pink flesh. There were now two small holes on the boy's scrotum that leaked some clear fluid and she was taking the drops with her tongue. After only a few seconds, she gave the boy's testes a final lick and turned her attention to his completely erect penis, throbbing and straining in her hand. She began to stroke it faster and she pulled the foreskin back and put her mouth over the pink head. She changed her grip to keep the foreskin pulled down as she stroked so that the tender pink mushroom tip could be licked and sucked at will. The boy's hips began to wiggle and a groan passed his open lips, and then it seemed his body went stiff and he was tensing over and over as Vashta continued the steady stroking and sucking of his hard penis. When the boy's body went limp, after many convulsions, Vashta hesitantly slowed her assault and removed her mouth from the head of his penis. The boy was so still, Veronica was afraid that he was dead, but Vashta continued to slowly stroke upward, milking a few last drops from the boy's spent and softening penis, licking the pearly drops up with her tongue as soon as they appeared. Veronica saw that the boy was now breathing calmly, alive and well, so she relaxed. When there were no more drops to be had, Vashta gently laid the boy's softened penis down, gave it one little kiss, and whispered, "Good boy," patting him on his thigh. She carefully stood as the boy rolled onto his side in sleep, his back to his brother. "Your turn," Vashta whispered, wiping her lip and her cheek with her hand and licking her finger happily. Veronica had felt the need building ever-stronger in her belly all this night and watching Vashta consuming her boy's offerings had driven her new-born needs to a peak. She could smell the sweet fragrance of blood in the air, and a the new smell, very distinct and obvious as never before, that she now knew to be the smell of 'maleness' and with that, the smell of sperm and of semen. She wondered why she had never smelled the men like this before. They had always seemed 'unclean' but now these boys smelled like hearth and home and fulfilled yearning. She was nearly mad with need, fighting the overwhelming urge to jump onto the boy and bite him. Bite him? What sort of thought is that? She licked her lips and for the first time her tongue felt the elongation and sharpness of her canine teeth. What is this then? She touched the enlarged teeth with her finger... "Hurry girl," whispered Vashta, "just as I have done, fight the urge to strike and do it gently and carefully!" Veronica bucked up her courage and knelt between the spread thighs of the other brother, parting them slightly. She had never been with a man, never between his thighs, never so close to a naked penis. It all looked and smelled so wonderful and delicious! A wicked smile crossed her lips as her eyes darkened in determination. Just like Vashta, she thought. She settled herself and moved the boy's genitals to the side to reveal her target. Touching her first male genitals was a revelation. She'd never known they were so soft and delicate, or that the egg shaped testicles were so firm within the boy's soft velvet bag. She lowered her lips to his groin, now smelling the blood just beneath the surface. She opened her mouth and laid her fully deployed fangs against his yielding flesh and they sank into him instantly, such was their needle sharpness. Blood flowed. She swallowed greedily, feeling dampness and need between her thighs. Her hand unconsciously squeezed and kneaded the big lumps of his fleshy genitals, so warm and vulnerable in her little but unnaturally strong hand. I mustn't harm them, she thought, as she relaxed her enthusiastic grip slightly. As she drank the hot surging blood from his groin, she felt the penis begin to throb and stiffen under her fondling fingers. A grin on her face caused some of the blood she was drinking to dribble from her lips. She felt Vashta's hand on her shoulder, and heard her whisper, "Now, take his seed, girl..." She let her fangs disengage and lapped at his wounds as Vashta had done, and marveled as they closed to little pink dots before her eyes. She lifted her head and took his testicles in her hand, letting them lie in her little palm as she stared at their beauty. "Next time," said Vashta, "Stroke him now to firmness, and then gently suck his head as you do it." Veronica turned her attention to the boy's stiffening cock. 'Cock?' she thought, grinning at the lewd expression that had crossed her mind. She gripped his shaft firmly and began to slide the skin up and down as Vashta had done, amazed how the penis had been soft and fleshy, and now very stiff -- like a piece of wood covered in soft velvet. The rod of flesh in her hand became even harder, swollen larger, and it throbbed in her hand as she stroked it. She re-gripped higher so that the foreskin would come down and smiled when the pink head would peek at her with the downward strokes. She gripped higher again, now revealing the entire head and corona ridge, dark pink, tender, juicy. She lowered her mouth, taking the tender velvet into her mouth and careful not to allow her teeth to harm it, she gentle sucked on the throbbing softness. The boy's breathing became gasps in his sleep; his hips writhed under her hand and mouth, trying to either go deeper between her soft lips or escape the brewing crisis. Instinctively, she stroked with greater vigor and began to lave his head with her tongue as she gently sucked. Vashta whispered, "When he begins to spurt, whatever you do, don't stop. Just swallow and keep milking him until he cannot give any more..." Veronica nodded slightly in understanding, and in a few seconds, the boy's breathing stopped, he moaned softly, and his body began to flex and convulse under her. She held on and rubbed with greater vigor, instinctively sucking harder. Suddenly a gush of thick, hot juice nearly gagged her. She sputtered and coughed, losing some of the fluid onto her stroking hand, but with determination, she swallowed the rest and kept up her milking just as another convulsion wracked the boy and another gush filled her throat. Veronica settled into a rhythm with his body now, stroking, sucking, swallowing, as she coaxed spurt after spurt of the strangely delicious viscous fluid. She felt powerful in her newly acquired prowess to so easily control a male and cause him to offer his seed to her desire. After many spurts, and one last great tensing, the boy's body fell back spent. Veronica slowed her stroking and stopped sucking his head, gently releasing his tender and precious member from her mouth. She saw that the head was now dark purple and thought it was beautiful. Slow upward milking motions produced additional pearls of delight from the boy's tiny slit, and she gently lapped them up, and pulled for more as she felt his penis going soft in her hand. When she was satisfied that she had taken all he could give, she placed his spent penis softly on his thigh, sat up and happily licked the remaining semen from her hand. Waste not, want not, she thought. As Vashta had done, she leaned forward and laid a chaste and affectionate kiss on the soft shaft of his penis, patted her boy's testes softly and whispered, "Good boy..." She stood and turned to Vashta, smiling in triumph and feeling euphoric with the surge of energy and strength that coursed through her body. Vashta smiled and whispered, "Well done, girl. We must go now." In a flash they were on horseback again, riding west in the trees, away from the village and the cottage of the two brothers. Veronica was giddy with delight at herself, so bold was she indeed! And her body had never felt so alive, so strong, and so invincible. The stars looked like tiny suns, she could see details of the circular mountains and valleys on the crescent moon so clearly, and it seemed like daylight between the trees as she rode swiftly, at one with her horse. As they slowed to a cantor and then to a walk, miles from the village, Veronica felt her breasts were heavier and she looked down to see the front of her white maiden gown was wet at her nipples. Her breasts seemed large, not unlike a mother of an infant who gave suck at her breasts. This was strange, she thought, and determined to ask Vashta as soon as they stopped. Many miles later, they arrived at a small clearing in the forest. Dismounting, they found a small hut, like that of a shepherd or hunter, deep in the forest and un-saddled and hobbled the horses over fresh summer grass. The night was warm and calm, a soft breeze rustled in the pines as the woman and the girl sat on the ground and built a small fire, just to enjoy its crackling light. As they sat by the fire, Vashta explained the increasing wetness both women now had, staining the front of Veronica's dress and Vashta's shift. Veronica's breasts were heavy and aching, leaking constantly and the front of her dress was soaked and sticking to her breasts, revealing her now larger and darker areolas and protruding nipples. She now had the chest of a mature mother, not the small pert mounds of a young virgin. She kept having pictures in her head of cradling a grown boy to her breasts and urging him to suckle, and she told Vashta all these things. "Wampyrie take their sustenance from male essence -- their many fluids are our best food," she said. "We can survive with the blood of a woman, gaining some strength, but our natural desire is always for the male, a young and virile male." The older woman grinned and added, "No matter how old you become, the young boys will draw your desire. They are so full of youthful energy and stamina," she giggled, "so delicious and precious are they..." She continued, "And we can give milk in return, to favor a boy if he pleases us. But we must be careful. If you suckle a boy, it will enthrall him to you, and you'll have a young pup following you around like a lap dog. Perhaps you can have one when we are settled somewhere safe, but for now you must refrain from giving any boy your milk. And it would be cruel to bind him and leave him heartbroken. Also, when you suckle a boy, you will feel bound to him as well. You will love him, care for him, protect him, and never want to leave him. So for now, you will leak and drip and it will pass in a day. Your breasts, however, will from now on remain newly enlarged..." She giggled girlishly, "And that's never a bad thing..." Vashta poked at the fire as she gave Veronica time to digest this information. "There is more," she said, "your hips will widen, and your figure will become quite womanly." Vashta stood and opened her shift, showing her naked body to Veronica's eyes. Voluptuous was the word for it. Large plump breasts, heavy pillows of softness, with large areolas dripping milk slowly but steadily. A flat but shapely tummy, a triangle of short light hairs, with fat lips below, surrounded by a wide swell of hip and taut but ample thighs. The woman twirled slowly to reveal a heart shaped bottom. "You like?" she whispered. "You are amazing," said Veronica, as Vashta reclosed and fastened her shift and plopped down on the ground again. "I was a skinny, sickly girl; ugly and flat as a rail, and dying of something horrible. On my deathbed a woman came to me and told me many things, offering me life. I took it, and in a few short years I looked like this, but much younger. I was then 19. You begin the journey already beautiful, already womanly in your youthful fashion. I'm sure in a few years you'll be an irresistible force to the poor boys -- a thing of their dreams and fantasies -- which is exactly what allows we Wampyrie to survive. The boy's love us and they will do nothing to harm us, enrapt with our beauty as they are. And we take what we need from them with care and respect, giving them pleasure in return for their blood, semen, and other things we need." My Carpathian Princess Ch. 02 Veronica smiled at the thought of becoming a truly beautiful and shapely woman. She had always wondered if her little breasts would develop into a womanly shape, if her hips would widen like those of some women she had known. She had seen the men's eyes, sometimes looking with lust and darkness, but sometimes a boy looked at a girl as though he was lost in her charms. And that look was one she had wished to have lavished upon her. This new life was going to be strange. It was filled with fascinating possibility, and she felt that the world was new and promising, and that her journey was just beginning. Vashta spoke, "One more thing and then we sleep. About giving your nipples to a boy's suckling mouth...there are benefits to you of binding him to you and the pleasure and relief of having your breasts, aching with milk, emptied by a happy man. As much as it is hard to admit, we are women and we can always derive pleasure from pleasing a man. It makes me content and happy when I hold a spent, smiling boy in my arms as he suckles, and feel his relaxed breathing and his trust. They can be so sweet and precious gifts, our boys...and you shall have many, as I have had." Vashta continued, "The binding will keep you young. You will not age as long as you suckle a boy. For his part, he shall not age either, and these are the problems. As the years pass in the village, the people eventually notice that you and your young man are never sick, and never age. You must move every few years, and it is a trial. Your young man can be injured working in the field or with the flocks. He can be taken by a Lord to war and die. He can be killed in a brawl. And when this happens, and it is only a matter of time before it does, your heart will be broken because you'll feel it when he dies and you'll ache and cry for months after because you have loved him so deeply in your soul." Silence permeated the forest clearing for a few minutes as Vashta remembered sadly. Veronica didn't speak, in respect of the woman's feelings. "It will be decades before the pain is passed sufficiently that you are willing to choose and bind a boy again. The pain departs, but you will never forget him -- you will always love your first man. You will begin to search for a boy who looks and acts and talks like the one you lost. It will take years, but you will find him. Sometimes you'll believe it is your boy again, so uncanny will be the resemblance, though centuries separate their births... In the intervening decades you will age, one year to ten. This alone will drive you to find a boy lest you become an old crone from being to selective. This is the curse I have put upon you and I am sorry, but it is what happens for Wampyrie. It is unavoidable." Veronica sat quietly, thinking of the joy of having a young man of her own, and then the heartache of losing him again. She saw that Vashta was crying silently, her shoulders wracking softly and tears streaming down her cheeks. When she had recovered she spoke again. "A Wampyrie is strong. You cannot be killed but by fire or decapitation. Your bones will become like iron and your flesh will remain soft and pliable, yet difficult to pierce as armor. When your man is in danger, it would be so easy for you to step in and rescue him, though he was surrounded by a hundred armed men. But you would then be known for what you are, and hunted thereafter; and you would have unmanned him, for which he would forever feel sad, even if you left no witnesses. There are many other circumstances of which I must warn you, but we have time. Let us rest now..." Without another word the women slept, each left to her own thoughts. Veronica found sleep difficult, due to the surging strength and energy still building in her little frame as the transformation to full Wampyrie continued inside her body. She had her first feeding and the new organization of organs and bone, muscle and sinew, was underway at full gallop. In the first light of dawn she stood and walked from the dying embers to watch the sunrise. She sensed a presence and scanned the forest, easily seeing into the darkest shadows even to great distance. There were six wolves standing only 50 paces away, looking at her. At first she felt a shock of fear, trained into her from childhood -- wolf and bear were to be avoided at all cost, lest a young girl lose her life. The fear passed quickly, replaced by some new knowledge that the animals had more to fear from her than she from they. Somehow they knew it as well. She took a tentative step toward them and they cowered. She took another step and they turned and fled. She returned to the fire, a smile tracing her lips; how interesting, she thought.... I cannot know whether this story was spoken to me or not. All I know is that it played across my mind in vivid color, as though I were an observer of the action, right there next to Veronica. As I began to come to myself, I pictured the face and body of the brother who was Veronica's first conquest as a Wampyrie. He looked remarkably like me, or perhaps I looked him. I became fully aware of my body once more. I was on my back on Veronica's desk, eyes open and looking at the sculpted tiles of her ceiling. I was sweating lightly. My hips were writhing of their own accord and I could feel that Veronica's mouth and hand were on my erect penis, rubbing and sucking vigorously, pulling all of my body's blood and energy into a focused point between my spread thighs. My breath was coming in fast shallow pants, my muscles were contracting and I began to moan as I felt the falling sensation overwhelm me and the first rush of semen erupted from my core. I heard and felt Veronica's purr of delight resonate through my genitals as my ejaculation spurted into her welcoming mouth. She rode me through the longest orgasm I had ever experienced. It seemed that I just kept coming, spurt after strong spurt, into her eager throat. I kept thinking each spurt was my last, but she would somehow wring from me another and another as I writhed and convulsed under her. Finally, completely spent and exhausted, I fell back onto the desk top, arms askew, completely and utterly done in. She removed her mouth, but continued to gently stroke my softening penis upward, licking my head every few strokes. I knew that she was milking my last few drops of semen, taking her time, in no rush to be finished. When I was completely soft in her hand, she laid my penis down on my belly, and I felt her nuzzling and kissing my testicles, inhaling deeply as she did so as if to consume me fully, including my scent. Her hands caressed my thighs and belly as she nuzzled, as though she couldn't get enough of me and it felt wonderful to be such a delight to this beautiful woman. I lay relaxed and calm as she communed between my thighs, making contented little sounds. I don't know how long I lay there, but after a while she picked her head up and sat back in her chair. She helped my feet off of her arm rests and placed them down to dangle off the desk. I tried to sit up and she helped me. She was smiling and she licked her lips slowly so that I couldn't help but notice. "Well, hello there," she said seductively, her feminine charms wasted on me, due to the completely empty and numb feeling in my genitals. It wasn't that I was merely sated, I felt completely drained, empty, used up. I smiled, feeling a little bit ashamed of my condition and situation, but I was encouraged by her warm smile and the affection that radiated so clearly from her eyes. "Hi," I said, lowering my eyes sheepishly. Her face darkened with concern, "Are you alright, Jeffrey?" she asked. "Yes, I think so," I said breathlessly. "Can you walk?" she asked softly. I nodded and she stood up, rolling her chair back, and held out her hands to me. I took them for support and stood in front of her, and again we were very close. She wrapped her arms around me again and I reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her waist, as she pressed me to her bosom. After a moment, she released me and bent to pick up my previously discarded shorts, and squatting down in front of me, to took her time to carefully help me to step into the shorts so that I wouldn't fall in my recovering state. She pulled the waist up and settled it on my hips, tying the draw string and patting it down. I was enamored with her care and concern for my well being, even dressing me in this silly garment. "Let's get more comfortable, dear," she said, and with one arm around my waist she led me to one of the doors at the side of her office. Opening it, I saw a large bedroom, very feminine in pink, white, and purple. The bed was a large canopy style, with diaphanous white fabric wrapped on the posts and the top railings just so. The carpet was lush and white. There was a very feminine vanity with mirrors, a dresser and chest of drawers, a divan covered in a pink floral pattern with purple velvet pillows. All in all, it was the fantasy bedroom of every 14 year old girl. She looked at me demurely, "Do you think it's too much?" she asked smiling. "No," I said, "it looks like the bedroom of a very romantic female. It's you." She grinned and hugged me tightly, letting a slight "umph" of discomfort pass her lips. I could tell from the movements of her body that her breasts were in some pain, and I remembered the story that I had just 'witnessed' in my mind. She backed away and held me at arm's length and looking into my eyes seriously. "I know this is all very new to you and sudden, Jeffrey. I am sorry for the way it has happened, but you now understand much of my situation. I want you to know that I have your best interests at heart, truly. It's just that I have been so long pining for you, wanting you, needing you, needing the young man that you are in the depths of my long-deprived heart. And now I have found you, Jeffrey. It's very difficult for me to go slowly, for you are so familiar to me in every way." She paused, to gather her courage, and continued. "Whether by a trick of genetics or a supernatural phenomenon, I do not know. But I saw you a year ago at a bus stop, and I have watched you in every imaginable situation. I have watched to treat people with respect when they didn't deserve it. I have watched you cry alone in your loneliness. I have watched you sleep countless times. I've watched you toil in the laundry and the restaurant where you work. I was wary, but you are a good young man, alone in the world, fearful of your future yet determined to stand up to it somehow. You are the young man of my dreams, and I want you so badly I cannot stand to be apart from you any longer." That was quite a mouthful, and from the look of sincerity if not desperation on her face, I felt the pull in my heart and realized I wasn't just infatuated with this mysterious woman. If a 19 year old boy can love, I felt that I loved her too. I had from the moment I saw her, even though our ages seemed to make no sense. She seemed like home and comfort and safety to me, and I never wanted to be away from her again, no matter what the cost. My silence as I considered these things must have frightened her, because a look of trepidation came over her face. "Oh, Jeffrey..." she muttered, "I should have been more careful. I should not have rushed you so... Can you forgive me? Can you let me start again to woo you?" She looked at me with raw emotion in her face and I thought she was on the verge of tears. Suddenly I felt very bad for not having blurted out and encouraging response. I looked at her heart shaped face, her delicate chin, large and pouting lips with her ruby lipstick smudged a bit, her fascinating blue/grey eyes, and her tenderly crinkled brow -- betraying her worry. I boldly moved forward and took her again in her arms, holding her soft and curvaceous body against me. I had no sexual feelings at that moment, so completely drained I was of any hint of arousal. Because of that, I knew that my thoughts were clear. As I held her tightly, she kicked off her heels and molded her soft body against me as only a woman can, but there was still a tension in her, a waiting for the other shoe to drop. As though it might be her last moment to hold me, she ignored the mounting discomfort in her breasts, exhaling sharply against the dull ache that I somehow knew was there, and she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me tight; nestling her face against my throat. She had said all she could, and now was at my mercy. I could give her unimaginable joy or utter condemnation with my next words and she knew it. I somehow knew it was very hard for her. She had lived for centuries as Wampyrie, in control, in power. To be now revealed as and reduced to a romantic and emotional woman like any other, whose fragile heart was about to be broken by harsh male judgment, was a very rare moment for her. Something inside me, perhaps base and mean, but born from being the prey -- the object of calculated manipulation -- made me wait and listen to her shallow breathing and the quick beating of her fragile heart. Regardless that she was Wampyrie; she was also still a woman fully and completely, as vulnerable to her heart's longings as any other. And for the first time in my 19 short years, I felt as a man, not a boy. I held her fragile heart in my hand, and I could crush it if I wished to do so. But her very fragility, her vulnerability, her softness, the fact that she was depending on my answer -- on my action -- to decide her fate melted me inside and any offence at her previous machinations drained from me, to be replaced with understanding, compassion, and...love. And I knew in that moment that I was, in fact, a man now -- despite my short years. For a man has compassion for a woman's frailty of heart. She is made to be loved and to love, no matter if she had power to destroy a small army. No matter if she was Wampyrie. No matter if she was immortal. She was a woman and needed to be loved in order to live. I felt her tenseness lessen, and I think she began to silently cry. Now I was ashamed of myself, I was angry at my hesitance to respond. But I had needed the time to think, to process my thoughts, to understand both her and myself better. With one hand I raised her chin and made her look at me. She hurried to wipe away a tear from her eye, embarrassed that I had seen her weakness. She blinked back further tears and steeled herself for the blow she knew was coming. I could read the determination in her eyes not to be weak, not to be soft and feminine. She drew on the strength of centuries of survival -- the wickedness she had done, and the cruel pragmatism that she had to practice in order to stay alive for so long. I also knew the utter disappointment, the devastation she felt, the complete defeat she would now face. Again. I knew that it had happened before. And I realized that while I could feel and taste bits of her thoughts, emotions, and memories, she had no access to mine! Otherwise she'd not be readying herself for the emotional train wreck she knew was coming! She tried to pull her chin from my hand, but I held on. Certainly she had the strength to overpower me, but she chose not to use it. I could almost hear her thought, a shout in Vashta's long gone voice -- "Be still girl! You will not break the covenant of men!" I didn't know exactly what 'covenant' meant, but I knew that the idea was a Wampyrie rule or law. Wampyrie did not, unless attacked or to protect their loved ones, use their superior strength against men. They would live as women with men, no matter the cost. Imagine that, I thought. I could tell what it cost her to push down the instinct to protect herself, her heart. The humiliation she was ready to endure after baring her heart so completely to me, and the inner strength to allow it was impressive. What a woman! I thought. I looked into her eyes and put all the sincerity I had in mine. I let her watch my face soften, I let my expression become filled with understanding and gentleness. Her expression changed from sad acceptance to confusion. It was priceless! It made me feel more love in my heart for her than ever. I slowly opened my lips to speak. "Woman," I said, somewhat harshly, feeling suddenly aged, manly, and wise, "what possible thought could enter your pretty head to make you cry?" I was surprised and the dominant tone in my voice, but I just let my heart flow out of my mouth without allowing my brain to interfere. "Do you think for one minute, that I am fool enough not to see you for who you are? That I could resent you? Revile you? Cast you aside as just another foolish girl?" Her mouth was hanging open, completely uncomprehending. Her body was so still, I was sure she wasn't breathing at all, though I could nearly hear her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. I continued. "You think you know me, and perhaps in many ways you do. But you misjudge me, lass, and for this I am truly sorry. You have searched for centuries waiting to find me and allowing your body to age, though I shall soon see if there are any ill effects..." I let the dark lust into my eyes that only a male can show. She was startled and actually blushed and a smile played at the edge of her lips. I thought perhaps she might be catching on, so I quickly continued. Somehow I knew if I played this out a bit more, she would treasure the memory long after I was gone... "You, girl, are obviously confused about many things, but I will correct this for you over time. Lots of time. A very long time together, I am sure..." Relief like a wave of the ocean passed through her body, relaxing every muscle so that I had to take much of her small weight in my arm. But I held her chin firm so that she would see my face as I spoke every word I had to say. "I am, and shall be, forever yours in heart, mind, and body," I said. She crumbled against me, "Oh, Jeffrey..." she whispered with a shaking voice. I held her and said, "Veronica, perhaps years from now, I will understand why I love you. For now, you will have to accept the fact that I do love you. I want to hold you. I will never leave you. You are mine now, as I am yours. You think that what I take from your aching breasts will bind me to you, perhaps it is so, but I bind you to me now, for as long as I live." Her tears were flowing fully now, and she didn't move to wipe her eyes but rather just stood still, letting me see it. Her body shook silently and it was again completely soft against me. If I had ever seen eyes look at me with love in them before, I no longer thought so, for now was the truth of it. I could see that she would forever treat me tenderly, as I would her, and somehow I also knew she would kill a thousand thousand before she allowed harm to come to me; Wampyrie indeed. "Now wipe your eyes girl, your blouse is wet enough already," I said, looking at her chest as I held her slightly away from me. She stood on her own and looked down at herself, blushing again as her hands wiped her face quickly and efficiently. Women had much more experience at wiping tears than men, I thought. I took her hand and whisked her away toward the divan. "Come, let's take care of your aching chest, young lady," I said brashly, and she giggled and hurried to follow me. When we reached the divan, I softly said, "Sit, Veronica." She looked at me with marvel in her eyes, and grinning, she sat primly. "Now, open your blouse and get those gorgeous breasts ready to give me every drop of their warm bounty. I am going to suckle you." Without a word, she quickly began unbuttoning and pulling the blouse out of her skirt, opening it wide to bare her large round womanly charms, still encased in her now very wet lace bra. All the time her eyes were on my face, hoping for my pleased reaction. I gave her one of my best lusty smiles and she grinned happily. My Carpathian Princess Ch. 03 ROXANNE Roxanne awoke and stretched her small but curvy frame languidly under the soft satin of her sheets. She purred a happy yawn and opened her eyes to the new day and the sunlight streaming into the window of her urban loft. She sat up, letting the satin sheet fall to her lap, revealing her large breasts capped with pale areola and pert pink nipples. She shook her blonde hair and felt her boobs jiggle, making her feel feminine. For some reason, and something not really frequent when she first woke up, she felt sexy, and she started to remember all of boys in high school and boys in college, and boys she'd dated since. "Boys, boys, boys," she whispered to herself, "why must I always think about boys...?" But then she put her finger to her cheek like Betty Boop and giggled, "Oh, I know -- it's because I'm a girl..." She slid to the side of the bed and happily jiggled her way across the large open room toward the kitchen. One wall of her loft was entirely glass, and she thought to herself how nice it was that there might be a man in a building across the street getting an erection from seeing her walk around naked. She smiled privately, thinking about them; erections. She loved erections, always had. She poured herself a glass of juice and looked out of her window, her eyes far away as she thought of how wonderful it was to hold a cute soft penis in her hand, so full of promise, and to feel it throb into a long, thick, stiff version of itself. And the best part was that penises were a renewable resource, a girl only had to wait a little bit, apply some of her feminine wiles, and viola! She could have a nice hard cock again! She pursed her lips and added the thought -- or a girl could just go get a different boy and he'd have a new penis for her to enjoy. Boys and penises, she thought, how wonderful they are. She thought back to the night before, in the back seat of her a car at the drive-in, with young Tommy. He was barely 18, and she had seen him several times at the Gym, took a liking to the shy boy, and offered to buy him a burger and a movie. He was so easy... How delightfully nervous he was when she unbuckled his pants. How his breath was shallow and panting as she unzipped the fly of his slacks. How cooperative he was when she whispered, "Lift," and he raised his hips obediently as she slipped them down all the way to his ankles. His tight white briefs had such a nice bulge in the pouch, and the bulge had begun to tent up nicely because of his stiffening member. He was so cute, eyes wide in surprise that she was so very confident as she put her fingers into the waistband, preparing to bare his genitals for her inspection and guaranteed approval. She had long before lost interest in comparing the size of a boy's penis to another. It was just part of the variety that she had come to crave, and it was fun to be surprised with each new discovery. She liked the boy very much, and his hesitation and embarrassment was so cute when she again whispered, "Lift, honey." When he didn't comply right away, she'd put her warm lips against his ear and with her warm soft breath, whispered; "Now Tommy, you promised I could see it... Be a good boy and lift up for me." She was delighted when he did it, and she slid the little briefs down to join his pants at his ankles, and there he was in all his throbbing glory. She sat back a moment to view him. Sparse light colored hair, a short but thick shaft with a perfect pink head, and two big testes nestled in his soft sack resting atop his thighs. "Mmm," she murmured as she reached out and gently fondled his testicles. They felt big and firm and full of juice. She snuggled into him again, letting her ample bosom squeeze against his arm as the boy sat motionless, waiting. With her soft breath in his ear, she cooed, "Oh my, Tommy, you've got a nice one." She knew all boys needed to hear this, so self conscious about their size, especially if, like Tommy, they weren't bigger than average. "Spread your thighs for me, honey, so I can feel your testicles better." The boy's white thighs parted, allowing her to fully cup his testes, and she began to knead them more firmly. "My, my," she purred, "Your testes are so big and full, I'll bet they ache sometimes, don't they dear?" He nodded, still unable to speak. "Do you think it would help if I could relieve some of their burden?" She giggled inwardly at the boy's lack of understanding. She'd have to be more direct. Roxanne said, "Would you like it if I made you come for me, Tommy?" He nodded, and she took hold of his erection and began to gently stroke it. She said, "I bet all the girls want to get into your pants, don't they? I mean, you have such a pretty penis, I'm sure they just can't keep their hands off of it." When Tommy didn't respond, she decided to dispense with playing around and get down to business. He had what she needed, and she was going to give him the best experience of his young life. She asked one final question, to confirm her suspicions; "Tell me the truth, honey. Has a girl ever touched you like this before, Tommy?" He nodded 'no'. "Has a girl ever sucked on your penis as she rubbed it and let you come in her mouth?" He shook his head 'no', but more vigorously. She smiled to herself and asked, "Do you think it would be alright if I made you spurt all your pent-up semen into my mouth, if I promise to swallow it all?" His body shivered at the thought, and his erect penis throbbed in her hand in answer, but he managed to whisper, "Yes." Ever so pleased with herself, she had said, "Ok, Tommy, I'll do that for you, but I need you to get into a better position for me. Can you do that for me?" He nodded 'yes', emphatically. She helped him kick off his shoes and the pants and underwear that were pooled at his feet, and slide sideways on the seat, allowing Roxanne to shimmy to the floor between his spread legs. "There, that's better," she said. "Now just close your eyes and lie back, honey, and let me help you feel all better." She stroked him gently with one hand, making sure to pleasure the boy without making him come too quickly, as she began to lave his scrotum with her tongue. He tasted of young boy and semen and sweat. Ever so gently, she nicked his sack with her fangs, barely causing a twitch, and lapped at the little drips of the most precious fluid that leaked from the petite incisions. Once these holes had closed, she put her mouth on his inner thigh, just at the juncture of his groin, increased the fervency of her stroking, and slid her needle-sharp canines into his hot flesh. She let the blood flow slowly into her mouth, making sure only to suckle gently, lest he feel it too much. She swallowed the rich, hot, life-giving fluid; relishing every drop and taking her time. She finished by lapping at the wounds until they had closed to tiny pink spots. 'Now for the main course,' she thought. She gripped his testicles with her left hand and began to fondle them. She increased the speed of her strokes on his penis, making the boy gasp and squirm under her. She softly placed her lips on the head of his penis and gently licked his purple, swollen glans, preparing for the gush of thick pearly flow that would soon follow. The boy writhed and moaned, nearing ejaculation, and she slowed her manipulations just a bit, to help him build more. He continued to gasp and wiggle his hips so attractively, and it made her drop her plan to make him last any longer. She worked him skillfully, and his body tensed and his lips whimpered, "Ohhhh.....Ahhhhhh...." The first spurt shot out into her waiting mouth like nectar from an artesian spring, coating her mouth and throat as she greedily swallowed his willing offering. Again and again, she drove him to spurt after spurt, each a little less than the first, but very ample none the less. She did like the young boys, they were so full of creamy goodness. She milked his genitals all the way through his youthful climax, slowing down with him to a very soft coaxing of the last few pulses. She removed her mouth as she milked with firm upward strokes, bringing several last drops of pearly goodness up from his depths to form on his sensitive slit, and lapping them up with her soft tongue. When he was soft in her hand and she was satisfied he had no more to give, she released his spent genitals and shimmied up to hold him. She cooed, "Oh, Tommy, what a lovely come you gave me. You were such a good boy for me." He smiled, eyes still half closed in complete relaxation, as she caressed his face and chest. "I'll just hold you a little longer, dear, and then we'll need to get your pants back on and I'll take you home..." She hid his underwear, keeping it as a remembrance, when she helped him pull his slacks up and put his shoes on. They drove to his house in silence, and she saw him in the door by 10pm. He was such a good boy to be home on time so his mother wouldn't worry... Roxanne thought of Tommy's underpants, in her special drawer where she kept souvenirs of all the young boys for whom she had been the first woman to make them come. She thought of it as her 'virgin drawer', though technically she admitted that they were all still virgins after she had them, since intercourse was not on her menu. She wondered if Tommy would call her again soon. She'd have loved to have him for more time, so that she could linger over pleasuring the boy, and perhaps extract from him a second ejaculation, or even a third, she mused, during an evening together. Her 400 year old body looked about 30, she thought, as she felt her soft and wrinkle-free skin, newly invigorated by the fluids she had taken from Tommy the night before. Being Wampyrie had its challenges, but also its rewards, she thought. Saturdays, she normally didn't go into the office, but since the Mistress's Jeffrey had come yesterday, she thought she'd go and see if they needed anything. She was happy for her Mistress to have found her boy again. Veronica had always treated Roxanne well and for that she was very grateful. She really couldn't do enough for Veronica and was certainly looking forward to seeing Jeffrey again, to gauge how things had gone for the couple. Roxanne was sad for the way Veronica had pined for more than a hundred years while she waited for him to come to her, and thereby losing a decade of youth in the bargain. But she admired her Mistress' resolve, though she thought it a bit over-romantic, and felt renewed desire to serve Veronica in every way. She had tried on numerous occasions to hook Veronica up with other young men of the similar type, but the Elder had always pleased the boys and drank them, but never kept them. So the great woman had waned a bit. No matter. What's done is done. And today Roxanne wanted to hurry and go to the office, enter Veronica's lair, and see what interesting developments had transpired. She showered and dressed quickly, choosing a more casual sundress and strappy sandals since it wasn't a real work day. She took the elevator down to the floor and walked out the front door into the sunlight. It was only a scant few blocks to the Massey Building, and she enjoyed getting some sunshine. She also enjoyed the fact that she was not wearing a bra under the yellow floral sundress, of thin fabric, so that her chest jiggled exquisitely with each step. This was much to the delight of male passers-by. And the wrap-around style of the dress allowed her to choose just how tightly to let the dress wrap, and today she had decided that it should wrap rather loosely, at least for the walk to the office. This choice, of course, allowed a goodly portion of her porcelain white bosom to see the sunshine, and to be seen by any males who might want to peek. Roxanne was a slut for male attention and she knew it. But on the other hand, a girl never knew where her next meal was going to come from, so in a way, walking down the street was like grocery shopping. She loved how most of the men would try not to stare at his cleavage and obviously perky nipples, but she loved even more that they just couldn't keep their eyes completely off of her. She knew it when they glanced, ogled, or stared, and she enjoyed showing off her assets. Several handsome men caught her eye, and many of them had no wedding ring, which was nice. It wasn't that that Roxanne would never taste a married man, but she preferred not to. Youth was always her flavor of the month, and 18 year old boys were very seldom married, at least not these days. She smiled as a handsome college student on a bicycle nearly hit a parked car because he couldn't keep his eyes on the road. "I've still got it," she murmured happily as she walked. Soon, she was ushered into the lobby by the head of security, Robert. He belonged to Angela in bookkeeping. He was a jovial fellow of about 35, with a full head of hair and a muscular 6'2" frame. "Good morning, Miss Roxanne," he said grinning at her dress, "Been driving the boys mad up and down 11th Avenue this morning, I see." "Robert, you naughty boy, how can you say such a thing?" said Roxanne, letting her ass sway even more as she walked from him toward the elevator. "I am completely innocent," she added over her shoulder. Robert snorted, "Innocent isn't maybe the word I would use, Ma'am." She turned on him sharply, a less-than-happy look on her face, "What word would you use, Robert?" she asked. Robert straightened up, "No offence meant, Miss Roxanne," he said respectfully, "I was just thinking of words like 'hot' and 'sexy' and 'amazing', Ma'am." Satisfied with his answer, Roxanne's face softened to a smile, "Well, that's nice of you, Robert, I'm sorry I misunderstood." "Yes, Ma'am," said Robert, relaxing a bit, "You're an extremely attractive woman, and I always think complementary thoughts of you." "Alright, you're forgiven," she said with a smile, "I'll be sure to let Angela know you were polite and charming as always." "Thank you, Ma'am." "Roxanne, please, Robert." "Yes, Ma'am," he said. Roxanne chuckled to herself as the elevator door closed, thinking, 'He is a good boy.' She began the ride up to the 40th floor, causing her ears to pop several times as the air pressure changed. The door hissed open and she walked straight to the big oaken doors of Veronica's office. The doors opened before her and she stepped into the executive suite, immediately looking to her right to see if the door to Veronica's apartment was open. It was. And there was Jeffrey, looking just delicious. JEFFREY I woke up alone in the big white bed. I could see sunlight through the gaps in the curtains and knew I had over-slept my usual 6AM wake up time. I got out of bed and looked around for my shorts, finding them under the covers. They were useless tatters. I remembered Veronica was quite aggressive last night before she put me to sleep with her snuggling comfort. I still had on the tee shirt of gauzy material, and it was comfortable so I left it on. There was no robe or anything else in sight for me to wear so I just shrugged my shoulders and knew I would have to wait to find out what Veronica would want me to wear. I heard water running in the bathroom and went to investigate. There was Veronica in the tub in a billowing pile of bubbles, with just her head and hands visible. She smiled gorgeously when she saw me, and I marveled at her beauty -- the raven hair, big grey/blue eyes, delicate nose and chin, big pouting lips. She was a vision. She said, "Well, hello there, sleepy head," continuing to smile. "Did you sleep well, my sweet?" "Yes, dear," I said, "and you?" "Oh, it was marvelous! I haven't slept so well in....well a long time. Are you hungry, dear? Shall I have something brought in for your breakfast?" "Hmmm," I said pensively, "Do you, uh, I mean, well....do you eat....food?" She giggled, "Of course I do, honey. Don't be a silly boy. I can eat and it's nice, but it's not as sustaining as, say, other things." Her eyes held a hint of darkness when she said 'other things' and I felt that familiar pull on my genitals, causing my penis to pulse and get a little heavier. She was looking right at my groin when she said it, and she seemed quite pleased with herself. "How marvelous," she purred. "Let me finish up my bath, you can take a shower over there while I watch," she grinned, "and I'll have breakfast brought in. How's that?" I smiled at her playfulness and bowed slightly, "Yes, M'Lady," I said in a very formal tone. "Hmmm, good answer. Now be a good boy and shower yourself. Make sure you do behind your ears, young man." She smiled at her humor as she picked up a phone and punched a button to order breakfast. I glowered at her in response to the comment about my bathing habits, but she ignored me, now busily whispering instructions into the phone. I took my shower, scrubbing with soap everywhere twice so that she'd be pleased with my cleanliness. I hadn't noticed, but while I was showering, Veronica had finished her bath and left the room. I got out of the shower and toweled off, but I noticed that the towels were just a bit too small to wrap around my waist. I tried many different ways, but finally gave up, walking out of the bathroom naked to look, again, for something to wear. Veronica was no longer in the apartment, which was what I called it now in my mind, so I stepped to the doorway to look into her office. I stopped when I saw Roxanne standing just inside with the big oak doors swinging silently shut behind her. She was wearing a yellow wrap-around dress and sandals. The dress was really amazing on her as it was closed rather loosely in front and she was showing a lot of cleavage. I also noticed that, in the sunshine coming in through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall behind Veronica's desk, that I could see the shape and slightly darker color of Roxanne's nipples poking the fabric. She took a few steps forward and turned toward me, immediately breaking out in a big smile. "HI, Jeffrey," she said as her eyes came to rest on my naked genitals, "Where is Veronica?" I clasped my hands over my nakedness, and blushing said, "She was here just a minute ago, and I'm looking for her too." Just then, Veronica appeared from another door, dressed in a sheer dark red teddy with a matching sheer robe over it. She also wore dark red pumps on her feet. Her hair was bundled up atop her pretty head. She had a pair of burgundy-framed reading glasses perched on her little nose, making her look like a sexy Librarian, and she was reading a newspaper. She looked up to see Roxanne and said, "Yes?" in a not-too-friendly manner. Roxanne paled slightly, if not in color, at least in posture. She said, "Mistress, I came in to see if I could serve you in any way this morning." "Ah," said Veronica as her face and tone softened, "Alright, you can set up for breakfast in the small meeting room, dear. And you can coordinate the breakfast I have ordered with Elaine and Sandra." "Yes, Mistress," said Roxanne and she scurried off to the left to enter another door, I supposed, to the small meeting room. I looked a Veronica, still standing naked with my hands over my groin, and she giggled. "Feeling underdressed, dear?" "Well, I came out of your rooms to find you, and there's nothing for me to wear in there, and then Roxanne was here, and I didn't know what to do..." She took a few steps closer and took my hand in hers. "There's nothing to be afraid of, dear, I'm not angry. I like you naked, and you'll get used to being underdressed quickly. Many of the girls will see you naked, and you don't have to worry. It will please them to see you, as it pleases me. Just walk proudly, hands at your sides, and be at peace. Can you do that for me?" My Carpathian Princess Ch. 03 I could tell this was really important to her, so I took a deep breath and said, "Sure, whatever you say, Veronica." This pleased her very much, "Good answer..." she said, smiling. She handed me the paper, wrapped both her arms around one of mine like a girl at the prom, and began walking me toward the meeting room. "You know, Jeffrey," she said as we strolled leisurely, "I think you're going to be a wonderful treat here at Stratford Enterprises. I can tell all the girls are a-buzz at your arrival, and they all want you to be 'on display', they'll really love having some male 'eye candy' around. How does it feel to be the center of female attention, and be the naked man walking around the office and distracting the staff?" "Uh, I don't know about that," I said lamely. "Ah, but you'll learn. It's good manners to let the girls have a look, Jeffrey, and they'll be most appreciative, I'm sure." "But, I thought I was yours," I said. Her face softened to comfort me. "Of course you are mine and mine alone, dear. All mine. And that will never change. But do you think it would be so terrible to be just a little bit entertaining and a little bit generous? You're such a delicious boy they all want to enjoy you just a little bit." "Well, if you insist, I'll try to do what you need me to do." "That's my good boy," she smiled. We walked closer to the meeting room, and I could smell breakfast. I still felt strange being naked, but I figured I'd have to start getting used to it. Veronica said, "You know Roxanne is here, and she's come more to see you and see how we're doing, than to serve me; although, she does mean well in her way." Veronica leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "Even though you showered well, you still smell quite male, and you're making her horny and hungry. Let's put on a good show for her at breakfast, shall we?" Intuitively, and I was now thinking that the 'intuition' I had for Veronica's thoughts and moods was far more than luck, I knew what she meant. She wanted to have a meal of Wampyrie variety for breakfast, and she wanted to let Roxanne watch. "Oh, my," I said. "Yes, indeed," said Veronica, snuggling closer on my arm and smiling gleefully. "This will be fun."