Erotica: BDSM Erotica The Fallen Petals Vampire Shapeshifter Horror (Paranormal Suspense Mystery)

Copyright © 2016 Salem Roth

Simultaneously published in United States of America, the UK, India, Germany, France, Italy, Canada, Japan, Spain, and Brazil.

All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical method, without the prior written approval of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places and events are either imagined by the author or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or actual events is coincidental.

• Chapter 1: Her Season Of Discontent
  
• Chapter 2: Homecoming Of The Queen
  
• Chapter 3: You Can Chose Your Friends, But ...
  
• Chapter 4: Boggy Business
  
• Chapter 5: The Fealty Of Karn
  
• Chapter 6: The Sweetness In Loss
  
• Epilogue
  
• About The Author
  
• More From This Author
  
• One Last Thing
  

This is erotic fiction with a dark twist.  There's nothing light and fluffy to be found here, so if you are squeamish, please do not look past this introduction.

This is a fast and delicious read for someone who has a kinky mind, with dark, awkward corners.. 

You know who you are. 

Enjoy!

Salem xxx

Rosa Violente, Vampress supreme, and Dame of the House of Vladmir, watched the dimly lit cobblestoned street, secretly observing the few people out on this foggy, bitter night. Her black velvet cloak, complete with monk’s cowl, hid her from anyone who cared to glance her way. No one did. Passerby's kept heads tucked into collars pulled high against the bitter, pelting drizzle and fog that seeped into and permeated even the warmer wool overcoats and slickers. She hummed “
The Fugue in D minor by Johannes Sebastian Bach
” under her breath, briefly reliving her time in Vienna, where she sat rapt in the court of the King, as the young genius made the massive pipe organ come alive with untamed aggression; the harmonic agonies resonating with his movements, while spiking her eardrums. She had begged Father to turn the virtuoso composer but he refused. Rosa, as a relatively young vampirette, did not understand at the time, but she did now. This musical genius was supposed to live on.

****

The hamlet of Nairn, located on the Moray Firth, an inlet that accepted the North Sea above and emptied into the River Ness below, was perfect for occasional (not more than twice a year) hunting. Human memories were short, but hunting in the same location on a regular basis was a recipe for extermination. Modern technology made it increasingly difficult to commit wholesale murder if one left the telltale fang marks, or too many people disappeared without a trace.

Rosa began hunting alone again only in the last three months. The others clouded her thoughts with their incessant telepathic chatter, reminding her of monkeys babbling in the forests of a long forgotten jungle. Although their childish behavior exacerbated her growing feelings of resentment toward them, she knew the real reason lay elsewhere. However, this was not the time to contemplate these thoughts.

The slicing drizzle, buffeted and fell in pockets, mocking the rain. The glow of Rosa’s green orbs, hidden by the cowl, penetrated the miasma, and locked on a lone figure. The woman advancing toward Rosa, secreted in a narrow alley strewn with refuse, and was oblivious to the lurking danger. She just wanted to get home to a warm, dry hearth, have a steaming cup of tea, and read another chapter of her current novel about a reigning vampire queen. Anne Rice knew a thing or two about the undead. And such a romantic world to dive into!

A manic grin split Rosa’s lips, revealing the inch long fangs, as she read her prey’s thoughts. She felt the woman's pulse, and listened to the beating of her heart. The woman walked with her head down against the weather and as she passed the dead end alley, Rosa reached out and snatched her victim with effortless grace. She dragged the speechless woman deep into the darkness. Rosa waited, her hand clamped over the struggling woman’s mouth, to ensure the action had not been noticed. There was no hew and cry.

“Thank you for your sacrifice, Molly,” Rosa whispered as she sank her tools of the trade into the woman’s neck. A barely audible sigh escaped Molly O’Donnell as she succumbed to Rosa. The vampire drank deeply and affectionately, as she drained the unfortunate mortal until the body was shrivelled and lifeless. Rosa deftly cast the bloodless, pale husk into one of the partially filled dumpsters. Rosa licked her lips and floated out of the alley and was immediately enveloped in the swirling fog and rain streaked darkness. Her strength and vitality renewed yet again, she looked forward to a night of debauchery with her young, adopted family. 

Floating on heather and gorse fragranced winds, Rosa Violente thought of Karn. He had remained with Rosa as her loyal familiar and daytime protector since she spared him decades before. Karn was born to Wolfshifter parents, and he indeed was one himself. Dangerous in their own right, shapeshifters had an uncanny talent for survival. They were natural predators too. Rosa, although never permitting Karn free reign to hunt, had always supplied him with fresh meat, when he needed it. She loved to look after him; dote on him.

Nearing the House of Vladimir, she sensed humans, smelled them, heard their pulsating hearts. Her mood abruptly changed from the half drunken state of feeding on the chattel, and the fond feeling she had for Karn, to anger. The purest of rage. Had Rosa not told her children on numerous occasions not to bring their stray pets’ home from the same pound? A whiff told her the fated guests were from college in Inverness. Anger imbedded in her being, born of Rosa’s Spanish heritage, her rage was her passion. Materializing in the Scarlet Parlor, Rosa observed the scene from a corner. She blocked her presence from the four vampires as they played with their food. Just like children.

Donnie “the dumb”, naked but for a pair of mismatched socks, was pounding the fragile behind of a pale, skinny male from the university. The poor boy's breathless shrieks were absorbed by the absorbed somewhat by the plush walls, ceiling, and floor. Theresa held a hapless female on her back by straddling her between her thighs, making the prey eat her enthusiastic cunt, as Ian pummeled the “V’ junction of her legs; alternating between pumping her pussy for a couple of strokes, and then sinking his cock in her ass as she thrashed. Mai Ling, the petite Eurasian, lay on her back in a “sixty-nine” with another young wannabe. As the poor man-boy licked her pussy with abandon, he did not seem to feel her extended fangs greedily penetrate his penis. Blood poured over her face as she bobbed her head and drank the freely flowing blood. Rosa sniffed the atmosphere: male and female fluids mixed with the sweat, blood, and adrenalin of young lives soon to be ended.

Rage turned Rosa’s green eyes a blood red, but she checked her impulse to destroy them all then and there. Father had taught her discipline, survival, and well preserved patience. With perfected poise and restraint, she glided from the room. But not before noticing Ian's hesitant gaze that locked on her as she swiftly exited. She wondered vaguely if he felt her ire. She contented herself with the fact that he would now be jumpy. Until he knew he had pleasured her to her standard, that was.

At dusk the next night, as her family rose from coffins, the dead bodies of the previous night’s playthings strewn about the Scarlet Parlor, Rosa entered without a sound. She bristled with rage, and her family could easily discern her displeasure. Gliding from one end of the room to the other, she talked gently to them yet again, of the callous attitude they displayed, toward the safety of the family. Rosa informed the four slack jawed vampires that the consequences of their behavior would bring ruin to all of them. She was delivering her concern as a mild mannered parent might, but the furor inside her rose up in her throat like bitter bile.

“And lastly, I ask you once again to stop bringing students from Inverness. Too many bodies or disappearances will eventually bring attention that we can scarcely afford. The authorities are already looking into the countryside for clues. I counted 46 bodies in Culloden Moor in the last five months. Have you lost what is left of your collective minds? You will stop this imbecilic behavior. Immediately.” She paused; a slow, sly smile curling her the corners of her deep red lips: “There will be no more warnings.”

The pronouncement was not new, (although the last statement was a first). The young vampires had heard similar admonishments from their mistress several times. The only real consequence was servicing Rosa sexually, to her demandingly high level, and with small amounts of their own blood. However, she had become distant and made them feel used in a way they had not experienced when in good graces. Ian wondered though. He felt, more than saw, her ire increase with every new warning.

His musing was cut short as Rosa telepathically summoned him to the tower at the south corner of the mansion. Refusal was not an option, although Ian contemplated not going for a full second and a half.

Ian took his time as he plodded up the stairs: a school boy summoned to the principal’s office, wondering what Rosa wanted. When he was outside the door to which he was drawn, he could feel her need and relaxed, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Licking his lips, he entered. Rosa lay on a red crushed velvet divan, a backless sofa, on her back with legs spread invitingly. Ian caught the sweet, acrid scent of her pussy immediately. She radiated rampant carnality…and indifference at the same time. He felt like a peon, a medieval serf, a Spartan helot.

“Do not look so confused, dear Ian. Come pleasure me, you simp. I require release, or have you forgotten how to satiate your maker?”

Ian bowed his head in salute and responded. “I have not forgotten, nor will I ever forget. I serve at your pleasure, your desires, your whims, m’lady.”

“As well you should. Eat my cunt, little boy.”

Ian dropped to his knees before Rosa and ran his hands up and down the inside of her flawless thighs. She mewled her pleasure as Ian applied his tongue to her sex, and licked at her twat as if it was a long lost lover. Relief sighed out of his mouth, right into that pink wetness: He was pleasing his mistress, and this was a better position to be in, than the one he was in only yesterday. He slipped one digit into her pussy as he started to suckle at her swollen clit. Then two. Then three. Opening her vaginal orifice, circling his fingers in ever larger arcs, as he continued his ministrations to her clit. He added his fourth finger, stretching her pussy wide. She rotated her hips as he brought his thumb together against his fingers and forced his hand just past the knuckles. Rosa gasped as Ian spread his fingers inside her sumptuous gash then sucked her clit between his teeth. Wanting Rosa to forgive him his transgressions and feel her love again, he shoved his entire hand up to the wrist into the slick, wet opening. He nipped her clit, eliciting a cry of pain, and rammed his fisted hand deeper. Rosa’s body convulsed as she screamed, “Yes, yes, yes!” and cum flooded around Ian’s forearm, dripping into the crack of her now spasming hole.

Normally, Rosa would reciprocate in some way, and Ian expected it; wanted it. He was sorely disappointed when Rosa simply told him to leave her presence when she was done. Ian felt sadness and used in a way he could not describe. Upon leaving the small room, richly decorated in hues of red, he spied the elusive black monster standing behind the divan with Rosa, a broad, knowing smile on his dark features. Hurt by the withholding of gratification, he turned and left. Ian would block the others from “seeing” his shame and yes, he admitted it, his humiliation. He glanced back before he hit the stairs.
‘Wait, where's the door I just walked out of?’ What the ….