If you were Dracula, I'd be letting you take that bite

[beloyaltome]

Lenore's immediately curious about their 'guest' in the dungeons from what Striga had to say: a swordswoman of exceptional skill, the most satisfying fight Striga had enjoyed in years and she only regretted that the woman was so tired out already before Striga got to her, if she'd been fresher in the fight and had vampiric advantages, she would have been a 'true opponent'.

The soldiers who had survived the battle spoke of it like something out of legend, to the point that Lenore almost had to roll her eyes at the way the story was already getting embroidered and exaggerated. (She thought it very unlikely that their captive was eight feet tall with eyes of flame.) There was little useful information from any of them--run down castle practically in ruins, aging retainers, decrepit king and queen, none of them even healthy enough to save for feeding purposes. Morana had plenty to say about that, the waste of losing forty-seven good soldiers for the gain of an ugly, crumbling castle in an ugly, barren land and if she'd known it was going to be this much bother they would have just gone around. Carmilla had already expressed her opinion in the original conversation, and the entirety of that opinion was a disgusted scoff.

Thus armed with as much information as she was going to get, Lenore dressed herself elegantly and went to the kitchens to collect a basket of freshly baked spice cakes, temptingly aromatic, before she descended to the dungeon.

Only one of the cells was filled at this time--none of the sisters were especially inclined toward taking prisoners unless they were of political value in some way, and their food captives were kept elsewhere under relatively minimal restraint.

"Well," Lenore comments, stopping in front of the dungeon cell and looking over the captive within with interest, chained on her knees. A heavy collar around her throat was chained to a ring in the floor in front of her, while her wrists were pulled out to either side and secured to more heavy iron rings and the cuffs on her ankles were attached to a ball and chain. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone in quite that many chains."

Comments

[beloyaltome]

Lenore laughs breathily at Gideon's charming shock, her awed vulgarity. "Oh no," she murmurs playfully. "What if you're dreaming?"

Shivering at the feeling of Gideon's hand against her breast, Lenore groans and arches up into the touch, lashes closing as she savors the throb of desire between her legs, the hot slick of her cunt.

"Better pinch you to make sure," Lenore offers, capturing each of Gideon's nipples between thumb and forefinger, clamping down just enough to make sure that the sensation of it shoots down Gideon's nerves. She releases a moment later, looking positively wicked as she grins up at her lover. "What do you think? Dreaming?"

[frontlinetitties]

There are things she wants to say. Things like don't fucking tease me like that because this sure as hell feels like dreaming. The way Lenore's body arches into her touch, the sounds she makes, the pretty flutter of her lashes; it renders her speechless besides a low and shapeless moan.

Until Lenore's fingers find her nipples, pinch tight enough to send bright shocks racing the length of her body, dancing maddeningly on a knife's edge between pleasure and pain. Gideon's eyes blow wide as she draws in a swift and ragged breath, shivers from nape to tailbone and back again, and it takes a moment for her to find her voice again.

"Nah. I guess I'm really here," she says it thickly, voice cracked open and raw around her lust as she looks down into the vampire's wicked little face, "but the jury's still out on you."

The hand at Lenore's breast grows rougher, squeezing slow before she takes her nipple and rolls it just a little hard between her fingers. She half-expects to be struck, or told to get the hell off, but her Mistress had said that she could leave marks and now her eyes are on Lenore's face. Waiting for a reaction.

[beloyaltome]

Lenore yelps at the rougher grip, half a moan but with a little bit of a wince. Still, there's no criticism in it, not even a complaint. "Little rough," she murmurs, but that's only feedback, encouraging Gideon to keep learning.

Her fingers skim down Gideon's sides, nails lengthening a tiny bit in order to scrape but mostly keeping her touch light, barely-there enough to be ticklish.

"Am I just an illusion?" Lenore asks, voice breathy and almost hoarse. "Apt to fade into mist or vanish with the sun?" Both true, one a little more unfortunate than the other.