[Chained In The Vampire's Dungeon 01] • Chained in the Vampire's Dungeon

By day, she's a successful accountant, but when she goes home to an empty bed, she dreams of a vampire lover she's never seen. Then one night, he appears at her window and takes her away to his dungeon. Once she is there, she learns that true happiness lies in submission.

Contains cutting blood play, manacles and some amazingly orgasmic erotic asphyxiation.

This short story is roughly 5,000 words long and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen.

EXCERPT

"Invite me in."

His lips didn't move. I heard him speak inside my head as clearly as if he'd been standing beside me. I turned the catch and pushed the sash window up to let him in. Cold night air poured into the room. I crossed my arms to offer some protection against the wind, but my teeth chattered anyway. He hung in the air outside, not moving a muscle.

"Come in." I'd forgotten. I had to say the words before he could enter.

He rushed in through the open window with such speed and fluidity that I didn't see him do it. I jumped as the window fell closed by itself, banging loudly in its frame.

I didn't have time to recover. He spun me around and took me into his arms. I had to look up to meet his gaze. The power in his eyes sent a shockwave all the way through my body. I belonged to him. He didn't have to say another word. I was his to handle as he saw fit.

Standing in his embrace was like standing in front of an open refrigerator. The cold insinuated itself into my flesh and bones, raising prickles on my skin.

With incredible speed, he lifted me, opened the window and flew me through it.

I clung to him as the cold night air hit me and he took us higher. My towel fell off and I watched it fall far below us, tumbling in the dark until it disappeared from view. Only his arms stopped me from going the same way. I tightened my hold around his neck, shivering as I clung to him.

We flew on over the streets I knew so well and out into more unfamiliar territory. It wasn't long before the noise of the city was behind us and we approached a huge old house on the boundary where urban became rural. It was beautiful. The moonlight shone down on the limestone mansion, turning it into a shimmering dream house. It was his. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. I longed to see inside, to walk the corridors and study the ancestral portraits that must line the walls. It was that sort of house.