A Tale of the Transylvanian Concubines
Dorota lay in her coffin, playing with her cunt and whispering soft prayers to her Count, her Master, her God. Her fingers caused her labia piercings to pull at her flesh, making sweet music, the music of church bells. Her sisters found her “meditations” to be strange, but she didn’t care. They didn’t understand the Count the way she did.
Dorota had always been what the other people in her village called “odd”. She talked to the trees, the squirrels, to fairies, to angels, and claimed they talked back. When she passed the age that people stopped calling it an overactive imagination and started calling it being touched in the head, her parents started to worry. They tried herbs, they tried prayer, they tried a doctor and a wise woman, they tried locking her in a room for a week, nothing seemed to work. When Dorota began to act out sexually, they began to do more than worry.
Dorota explained, calmly, that God had visited her and told her she would be the mother of the Second Coming. She was simply sleeping with as many of the boys as were interested (which were most) To speed the process along. When other girls were learning to cook and clean for their husbands, Dorota was using her mouth, anus and vagina to gather the seed of as many men as she could. When other girls were learning how to protect their children from the Devil and how to nurse a man’s hangover, she was learning how to best use each of her holes to make a man ejaculate. Had Dorota lived in a city, she may have received more care. Instead, she was locked in a cell deep in the basement of the village jail. Even then, Dorota would seduce and pleasure as many guards as she could, and even the priest a few times.
From the first time she saw the Count, Dorota knew exactly who he truly was. Abraxas, Belial, Czernobog…. Satan. The Dark Prince. She realized now how wrong she had been. She wasn’t to be the mother of God but the consort of Satan. He offered her freedom, sex with many more men that she had ever dreamed and his love and protection. She only had to drink both his blood and his seed. Dorota immediately agreed.
Centuries had passed since that night. Still, she loved her Count, worshipped him. Magdalena enjoyed a relationship of teasing him and being punished, little Alzbeta cowered and did her best to endure the humiliation of being the youngest Bride, but only Dorota knew. They were all clearly in Hell, whores owned by the ruler of that pit. And in being the devil’s whore, she spit in the face of every priest, every doctor that had tried to “cure” her. She had found the true master of the world and was willingly his plaything.
As Dorota masturbated and reflected, her crypt door creaked open. She lifted herself at the waist, the rings in her pierced nipples jingling. It was him! The Count! She leapt from her coffin and scurried on hands and knees to him. Except for her shackles and collar, Dorota was entirely naked, an impossibly pale shape with midnight hair moving across the floor to her God. Her mouth kissed at his leather boots, and soon after her tongue licked at them. He unbuckled and stepped out of one boot, and soon her tongue was worshipping at his foot.
She licked up and down, lifting the foot in her hands to suck on the toes reverently. She hungered for this the way mortal women hungered for food or wine. She continued to lick and suck and caress until she heard the deep voice above her, the infernal voice. “Rise, sweet girl. You have earned the right to worship my cock.”
“Thank you, O Count!” Dorota rose up on her knees and gazed up lovingly at him. She knew she looked appetizing to him. The rings in her breasts and her sex were tokens of devotion to him that he had insisted on early in her service, tokens her sisters had never received. She gazed deeply at his throbbing member, and whispered a prayer before it, an expression of gratitude and humility. She opened her lips and waited for the hand gripping her hair tightly before indulging herself. As a human girl, Dorota had learned how to expertly use her mouth to service a man. In the centuries since, she had perfected her technique based around what was most pleasing to her Count. She knew the exact way to her tongue, lips and saliva to pay homage to the unholy cock she knelt before like a penitent. Though she had no need for air, she learned how to mimic the gulps and coughs of a woman with a cock deep in her throat, as these sounds too were prayers to the power and control the Dark One had over her body. She knew the combination of steady gaze and flirty eyelashes her Count enjoyed in a woman.
She was before a living God, a perfect and hellish being that was worthy of every ounce of praise, worship submission her undead body was capable of, and she ensured she gave him his due respect. Nuns spent their lives praying to a man that never answered them, but Dorota not only spoke with Satan but had his infernal penis roughly penetrate her holes. Nuns flogged themselves, but the Devil himself flogged, beat and tortured Dorota. How wonderful to know the Count not only existed but to feel both the sweet pain and delicious pleasure inflicted by him!
The Count grabbed her nipple rings roughly and pulled them as he took in the ecstasy her slave gave him. Her mouth cried out around the cock it was receiving, and the reaction excited the Count further. He pulled the hair he held in his fist, and used his other hand to begin twisting the ring in her right nipple. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy. She knew he was close. Dorota applied her talents to his cock with increased passion, She felt his seed in her mouth and throat. Like her Sisters, Dorota needed semen to continue to live, as their Master needed blood. But for Dorota, the seed also represented the ultimate gift: the life force of another entering her and becoming a part of her own life force. She no longer was so foolish as to think she was to be God’s Mother or Satan’s Queen. She herself, along with her Sisters and their Husband, were themselves the Antichrist, the dark influence that would overtake the world and rule it. She was a limb of the Great Beast, and would serve the heart humbly all her days. She pulled back, staring at the Count with semen dripping from her mouth. “Thank you O Count. May your slave please…”
“Yes, little Dorota, you may.” He smiled and showed his sharp teeth. The Count took each of the six rings piercing her nether lips and buckled them tightly to the straps in his boot that existed for this purpose.
Dorota began to rub her cunt on the boot, each movement pulling sharply at the piercings. She moaned in pain and pleasure, and her hands found the other set of rings, those decorating her breasts. She pulled on them as she rubbed her cunt again and again and again on the boot of her Count. “Thank you my Count, thank you, thank you thank you.” She thought of God, the Devil, of cocks and of Christ.
“Tell me what you are Dorota.”
“The Devil’s whore O Count” I’m the Devil’s whore! And I love it! I love the torture and the piercing cocks, I love being your filthy whore O Count. Ahhhhhhhh!”
“Cum for me, my whore.”
Dorota screamed loudly as she gazed upon her God. He unleashed her cunt from the boot, and Dorota knew what to do. She licked at the boot, taking her excitement in her mouth, feeling it mix with the Count’s excitement. When she was done, she hugged his leg and looked up. “May I be of further service tonight, my Count?”
The Count clicked a leash to her collar, “Yes, my dear Dorota. I would like to see you and your Sisters perform and play for my amusement, Come. The night is young.”
He tugged and she followed after them. She had not played with her Sisters for the Count in some time. She could taste their cunts just hearing the Count’s words. She hoped Magdalena was bringing her chain flogger. Dorota was craving a good beating and wanted to see how many tears she could draw from fragile little Alzbeta.