The Bloodlust Cycle - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : The Willmaster

She was of slim build, yet not emaciated like the models in the vogue of her time. She had blond hair, which she kept dyed brown. She always dressed neat, and exuded an aura of purity and yet sensuality. She lived alone in a house near the college at which she studied. She was the perfect girl according to some, harlot to others. Her reputation held the standard duality of those women who keep their privacies private. She didn't enjoy men's company - to her they were animals always trying to test if the rumours of her sexuality were true. And adding a few rumours of their own regardless of any actual conduct. Though she didn't enjoy being alone. On cold lonesome nights she fantasized of imaginary perfect men who would warm her bed.

Tonight was as dark as the last, the thin crescent moon having long descended below the horizon. The lights of the campus and the haze of the city air blocked any illumination from the stars in the sky. This was Monday night, a night for her and her alone... and she would spend it pampering herself. She looked in the mirror...

"Anais, my friend, you have got to get out your rut," she said to the reflection in the mirror.

She always spoke to her reflection, the only one who understood her, knew her pain. Sometimes she wondered if the reflection was a separate world, and if that woman who looked so much like her had a different life when the separated from their closeness in the bathroom. She sighed... and prepared for a shower.

She unbuttoned her blouse, undid her bra. They fell lightly to the floor. She unzipped her skirt which also fell to the floor. She smiled to herself, at the fact she wore no underwear. It was her private naughtiness, for her and her alone. She turned the faucet of the shower, letting the cold water flow while she gathered her soaps and shampoos. She stepped into the shower, leaving the bathroom door open so that she could hear the phone or the doorbell.

Anais stood in the water spray, letting the water flow over her body. She entertained the idea of her Perfect Man... his hands caressing over her quivering body just as the water cascaded over her skin. She felt his hands run over her breasts, down her belly, between her legs. In her mind she imagined herself saying "Please, no" as she opened her legs in offering to his touch. She felt the imaginary hand cupping her mound... a finger pushing between her lower lips. She smiled at the prospect of surrender to her Perfect Man. Her imagination this evening was vivid, and she reveled in it. She felt the imaginary fingers pinch her nipples... her breath quickened and her moans deepened. She bent forward, leaning on the shower wall as she imagined his cock entering her cleft, and claiming her for his own pleasure. This was turning out to be a good shower.

She screamed in climax. Her body shook as she imagined his shaft invading her... impaling her again and again. Her shower door was partially open, and her eyes opened to turn and look at her reflection. "Fuck, she's having as good a time as I am..." The woman in the mirror pushed back against her imaginary lover, feeling the same as his phantom hands slide sensually up her sides. The woman in the reflection arched her back as the hands moved up to squeeze her breasts. A scream of pleasure erupted, the orgasm all-encompassing. If only the men in real life could pleasure her as much as the Perfect Man in her mind.

Her eyes widened. In the mirror, a pair of hands were closed around her breasts. Not her hands. Her hands were on the wall above her. She felt the palms squeezing her breasts. Her beating heart pumped adrenaline through her body. She was not imagining this man any longer...

She turning around quickly. A man stood there - her imaginary man. His non-imaginary penis was stiff and slick, from having just been inside her.

"Who are you?" She blurted out, her body was tinged with shock, tempered by the residual calm of the orgasm.

"Does it matter?" His smile curled into one of dark sin. His eyes were dark, twinkling with the light that only the truly wicked can produce.

She tried to answer, but couldn't. Images flood her mind, of him penetrating her over and over again, of her fucking him any and every way. She couldn't avoid the thoughts. Instead she tried desperately to think straight enough for survival. "I'll... I'll call the police... even if you rape me and leave, I will call the police and you will be put in jail."

"The police can't do this."

He placed his hand between her thighs again. Her entire body seemed paralyzed from her neck down. The only sensation she had below her hips was her pussy being touched sooooo deliciously. She gave into the temptation for a moment, her hips thrust forward on his hand, first slow, then faster.

He simply smiled, "Feel the heat radiate from your core, Anais. Become one with it... and remember that only I can give you this."

She moaned, lost in his words. She grabbed onto his penis with both hands and began to stroke the shaft. His hands withdrew, resting at his sides.

"Noooo..." She moaned, with what little thought she could.

"Serve me well, and you will feel more then my fingers on your flesh."

Her only thought was to serve this man. Her hands explored his penis. She looked at the invasive probe, and bent down before him, the shower still running but the spray was blocked by his body. Her mind was clouded by sex and the desire to serve him. She took the head of his cock into her mouth. Her tongue moved around his head. She sucked on him, taking as much of his length into her mouth as possible. One of her hands moved to clutch at his thigh and pull him closer. Her other hand dropped between her legs and her fingers moved against her clit. She felt so empty. Only by pleasing him will she be fulfilled. She sucked hard and withdrew his shaft, her tongue flicked on the end, then she kissed it lovingly. She looked up at her master, her eyes pleading for his pleasure.

He hauled her up swiftly, his penis pulled out of her mouth with a smacking sound as she kept trying to suck him to the last second. He held her up in the air, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pressed his cock into her, holding her up as he plundered her virtue. She felt his shaft within her, moving in all the right places. She moaned loud and long as she felt every inch of him within her. His face did not flinch or move. He was silent, even as his climax flooded her, his rod pulsing. He set her down gently, and she knelt as her knees touched the ground.

He walked out of the shower stall, and out the bathroom door.

Anais knelt on the floor of the shower, feeling waves of afterglow through her body. She blurted out the only thing she had the power left to say.

"Who... are you?"

He called from the other room, "Does it matter? I will return again. Know me not by my name, but by the feeling of me within you. Feeling me over and over again as you scream in ecstasy most mortals never experience. That is my True Name, and the one by which you will remember me by."

The man disappeared into the darkness of the house.

Anais stood and stepped out of the shower, dripping. She checked her doors and windows - all remain locked, with no evidence of entry. She was not afraid, and only desired to hear him speak his True Name once more... just once more.

Continued in Chapter 2