Five months to the day since her arrival, Emily Holmwood still felt like a visitor here at Rings. Her uncle and aunt had said she'd find the estate a new home. So far, she had not. Indeed, she continued to watch everything trying to understand this place and its inhabitants. Hence she noticed when something changed.

The breakfast ritual began promptly as ever. Lord and Lady Godalming sat at the head and foot of the table, all four girls sharing the space between them. Emily herself sat facing little Alice, the youngest. To her left too-clever Bianca, on her father's right hand, with Susan opposite.

Susan, she seemed different today. Not looking at anyone. Her fingers straying to her neck for some reason. And that odd smile, as if she had a secret.

"Extraordinary," Lord Godalming pronounced as he lowered the newspaper. "This ship beached itself at Whitby in the early hours last night. Schooner out of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Name of Demeter."

"Was an awfully terrible storm last night," said his still-beautiful wife, her copper locks in an attractive bun, curls framing either side of her face.

Bianca listened to every word her father said. So too did Alice, just as Emily did herself.

"Yes, but turns out the crew had gone missing."

"Missing?"

"Just so. Should have been close to a dozen, but all they found was the Captain. Lashed himself to the wheel, where he'd died poor chap. Probably left port with a skeleton crew and lost them in the storm. Wretched bad luck all round from the looks of things."

"Papa?" said Bianca, "What was the ship carrying? Does the paper say?" She smiled showing every tooth, a huge smile designed to seem like the most delightful and dutiful of children. As usual it worked.

Lord Godalming checked the article. "Crates of geological samples, it says. Rocks, most likely. Imagine losing your life transporting boxes of stone!" He shook his head. Still a handsome man, Lord Godalming. Tall, still relatively slender, with the most fashionable of thin moustaches. He dressed impeccably and carried it off. Emily found that impressive.

But what Emily noticed most of all was how his middle daughter ignored him. Susan, at least as her cousin saw it, actually was what Bianca pretended to be-a loyal, docile daughter who adored her father. She spent most breakfasts with all her attention aimed squarely towards him. Not this morning. Instead, she nibbled at her food, her thoughts clearly thousands of miles distant. No reaction to the story of the ship she'd found so fascinating last night, nor to Bianca's question.

"Did I tell you, dear," said Lady Godalming, "we have a new neighbor?"

"Hmm?"

"Seems someone has purchased Carfax Abbey?"

That got her husband's attention. "Carfax? The place has stood abandoned for years! Since my granfather's time as I recall. Yes, I'm sure of it."

His wife shrugged very prettily. "No doubt the new owner has quite a task ahead of him. But someone did indeed buy the whole property."

"How do you know?"

"Mina told me." Emily recalled who she meant. Lady Godalming's oldest friend. She often came to visit the estate, sometimes with her family. "Turns out Jonathan ended up solicitor who managed things, including the delivery of all sorts of boxes-furniture and the like no doubt. And it seems now he's hired over a dozen girls to go in and clean."

"I should think Carfax needs more than a good cleaning! Is it quite safe?"

Lady Godalming sipped her tea. "Evidently. Jonathan had some experts check on the place. According to them, one wing will need work eventually but the main house just needs a good scrubbing as well as replacements for half the windows."

Now her husband paused to consider this. Alice listening to all this politely, while Bianca did so intensely, smiling every single moment. Or pretending to smile. Emily knew why. Bianca liked to ride over to Carfax Abbey to do some exploring. No doubt she considered the place hers. All hers. The new owner would be an intruder. And Susan-weirdly Susan looked up briefly and gave the mildest of grins. Did she know something? If so, how? And what?

"Did Mina mention this new chap's name?"

"Something foreign. An eccentric old nobleman looking to live somewhere more civilized than Russia or Poland or wherever."

---

Deep inside Carfax Abbey, within the half-forgotten crypt where gentry from the age of the Stewart Kings lay in their tombs, Dracula awoke. It was day yet, but in the north part of England this meant less than elsewhere. At least as far as he cared. Clouds hid the searing sun. Shadows made this land comforting. The coffin-sized box in which he lay Dracula himself placed here the night before. Now, still wrapped in a large dark cloak, he made his way out of the crypt. No need for lamps or candles. He saw better than any cat might in this dimness.

Up, up the stairs to the chapel, long in need of re-consecration since the events almost two centuries past. Across the chapel where crosses lay hidden behind sheets and cloths. Up another set of steps to the main suite of the master bedchamber. Here, according to instructions, several specially marked boxes waited him. One already lay open from last night. It contained clothes, the simplest kind of clothes that might cover Dracula's body but elicit no reaction. Shirts. Coats. Trousers. Boots. Long cloaks with hoods. All black. Swiftly, Dracula dressed.

Despite the heavy curtains, he sensed the feeble sunlight beyond. A source of discomfort now that he'd fed, even gorged himself. In his previous, desicated state that light could have burned like fire. Now, it would merely hurt his eyes and weaken him. But not so much, not with the clouds that took up much of the sky here.

Almost at once, he sensed when someone entered this, his home. By sleeping here, by owning it and placing so many of his possessions here Dracula made Carfax Abbey his in some fundamental manner. When the key in the great front door turned, he knew it. The opening of that door might as well have taken place inches rather than a hundred yards distant. He knew at once a man had stepped beyond this, his threshold.

When he wished, Dracula could move with speeds to rival the most fleet of steeds or most rapid of cats. He moved down to the main hall faster than any human could manage, even if running. He stopped at the head of the grand staircase. Feet resting on the ancient carpet. Shadows surrounded him. Curtains yet shrouded the windows of this place. Yet he remained perfectly aware of every detail. He could even see the cobwebs high above on the ceiling, the spiders weaving them. Before him, below, stood a man in a gray suit and black tie. Ramrod straight. Very proper. Hat in one hand, satchel of papers in the other.

Of course.

"Mr. Harker I presume?" His voice echoed in the mostly-empty hall. The man turned in the direction of that sound as the vampire descended the stairs.

"Count Dracula?" The clipped, stereotypical English voice.

"I am Dracula," he answered with the tiniest of bows. "Enter freely and of your own will. I bid you welcome to my house."

Harker did a little take at this. But recovered quickly. "An honor to finally meet you, Count."

"Likewise, my friend. Won't you come and sit down? You no doubt have many papers for me to sign and I myself have many questions that need answered." He gestured to what was once a study. His solicitor headed there with barely any hesitation.

---

Susan Holmwood paid attention to almost anything at all that day with difficulty. She simply did not care. Her mind and soul felt invaded, distracted, comforted beyond words by her dream of the previous night. Or had it been a dream? It must have been. Yet how could it be? That she did not recall almost any detail thrilled and frustrated her.

What she did remember should have made it a nightmare. A stranger holding her down, biting her throat. A naked man holding her body against his. The stuff of fears, yes? Except...no.

During her lessons with Miss Seward, and while having meals with her family, glimpses of that dream bubbled up in her mind. Not just images but feelings. Intense ones. Of something in her mouth that should not be there, but that she welcomed. About pain that somehow felt good. Better than good! Wonderful! She'd think of a tall handsome man with a long moustache. Just glimpses really. Flashes like lightning within her thoughts.

Word about this man came unbidden. Love. Desire. Blood. Master.

Slave.

Part of her realized the slave here was none other than herself. But, surely not! No, she was no slave! She was an Earl's daughter!

But part of her whispered, yes you are an Earl's daughter, yet at the same time you are a slave. His slave. His eager, willing slave.

Yes, I am. No! But...I want to be.

Then she'd shake her head and try to concentrate on Miss Seward's lessons or the game Bianca insisted they all play, or the food placed before her on a plate. As if any of that mattered.

---

In bat-form, Dracula left his new stronghold of Carfax Abbey a few hours after the sun set. Stretching his wings, he crossed miles towards the Holmwood Estate in minutes. He had plans, ones he feared tasted of impatience but for the moment he did not care. Caution colored his every move. Impatient he may be, but hardly impetuous.

Circling the manor, he used his superior vision to spy out the various windows. Now that Susan invited him within, he could enter anywhere. Before long, he identified the bedrooms of each person within the edifice, at least all those above ground. Male servants quite obviously slept on the same level as the cellar. The top floor contained various maids, several to a room.

All of the Holmwoods themselves slept on the second floor. Susan's bedroom window, easily identified, he ignored. For now. He would visit her soon. But first...

There. Yes, there! He saw the figure of the youngest sister. Alice. Nine years old, golden of hair, sapphire of eye. The window into her room had sheer curtains above a window seat. Dracula perched himself upon the wall outside that window and gazed within.

He caught an image of young Alice's bare legs and the bottom curve of her behind as the nightgown slipped over them. White cotton. Lace at the trim and collar. Alice's back faced to the window. The bright red eyes watching her remained unseen. She pulled her hair from out of the material and gave it a shake. From her movements, Dracula knew the girl now buttoned up the front of her nightgown. Before her, upon a small nightstand, lay a lamp. The only source of light in the room. For Dracula, it might as well be far brighter. Its glow shone through the nightgown, revealing Alice's body in silhouette. Her hips barely had any curve to them, not yet. That also light revealed the gap between her legs, all the way up to her virgin girlhood, in every detail. His mouth watered. As she moved towards the bed, that gap changed, opening and closing like a winking eye.

She turned the lamp down into darkness. Pulled back the covers upon her bed. Crawled up upon that bed and inside the covers, drawing them back over her prepubescent body sheathed in cotton.

Dracula waited. He did not want to, but he did. Waited to hear her breath change its tempo, her heart to calm. Experience told him precisely when the girl had fallen into sleep. When she would no longer notice as he shifted into a human form and opened her window from the outside. Stepped inside her bed room, as silently as any serpent.

His cloaked form approached the sleeping child. She stirred in her sleep, quite naturally. No part of her sensed him. Once at the very edge of her bed, his eyes glowed brighter. His fangs extended. With one hand, he pushed back the covers which her own tiny hands had pulled up nearly an hour before. Had he done this in one swift movement, no doubt Alice would have awakened. But he remained patient. Anticipation was a pleasure like any other. He savored it. Just as he savored the movement of Alice's tiny body as she breathed, thinking about the flesh that moved beneath that cotton gown. The short legs, the torso above them and delights that torso contained-nether lips, budding nipples, the immature roundness of each cheek. For now, however, he focused on her throat.

Fingers with centuries of skill pushed aside Alice's golden hair. Pushed it back and up, exposing her neck. Smooth and pale and warm. It pulsed at the very point that held Dracula's gaze. He stared, readied himself, almost by instinct as much as experience.

When he acted, it took less than a fraction of a moment.

Mouth descended upon that naked throat. Fangs sliced into flesh, releasing her blood. The heady taste of it swelled into his mouth.

At the exact same time, his hands came to rest atop her head and against one shoulder. Her body shuddered as he bit. Pressure from both hands held her in place. Not the power of a vise, but as if struggling against a wall.

But little Alice did not wake. A vampire's bite in many might as well be a taste of opium. She trembled, yes. And in pain. But the pain shrank to nothing, lost against a pleasure she'd never known nor could she hope to resist. Even in sleep, Alice moaned. Not conscious, she yet longed for more.

Dracula drank from her in sips. Barely a mouthful in all. He felt no hurry, nor any great thirst.

The feeding took barely a minute. Before it was half over Alice trembled in her sleep, shaking with ecstasy. When his mouth left her throat, she whimpered slightly in frustration. But still, she did not wake.

Nor would she, not tonight. Dracula had done all with her he intended. For now. The two tiny wounds upon her throat would heal rapidly but not completely. He replaced the covers across her body, now breathing more deeply than before. Then the vampire returned to the window and stepped into the night, giving himself wings.

---

Susan did something she'd never done before after going to bed that night. She locked her bedroom door.

At first she didn't know why she'd done it. In fact, as she turned the key in the lock Susan found herself staring at her hands. But it felt right. More than right. And as she felt that rightness, her attention veered away from the door. She found her eyes straying towards the window.

Then she knew.

Her lover would be coming tonight. The Angel of her dreams, save those were not dreams but in some sense real. Details escaped her but somehow Susan knew he had come to her last night and made her his own. Flesh, blood and soul. Now the sun had gone down she felt a yearning. More than that, a need. He would touch her again. He must!

Hands trembling, she began to undress. The blouse was not as simple as it might seem, nor her skirt. She kicked off her shoes, much as she simply threw the discarded blouse and skirt to the side. More buttons as she began removing undergarments. Buttons to be undone. Laces untied. She moved faster to undress than she ever had before, but made slower progress than she wanted. For one thing, Susan could not wait! Her lover was coming and must find her ready, willing. Naked for him. For another, the trembling in her hands and fingers interfered. Infuriating! She needed to get these things off!

Finally, her tiny bloomers fell to the floor and she stepped out of them. All the remained were her stockings. Black. Barely reaching her knees. Susan stopped and glanced at the full length mirror.

Would he like her this way? Clad only in stockings? Some part of her wondered.

And then, even more memories returned. She saw herself blink in the glass, eyes growing huge. She had put his penis into her mouth! No, he had put it there. And she sucked on it. Eagerly! Had wanted to go on doing so forever! How could she have done that? Why had she? And why, now that she thought of it again, didn't she feel disgust? She should! It was a revolting idea! Yet recalling the feel of it on her lips, moving against her tongue, made her sigh.

I want that. God forgive me. And I want to do it again!

A brush of cold air from the direction of her window got Susan's attention. She turned. The window-something was opening it! No. Not something. Someone.

Susan recognized the cloaked figure who strode into her bedroom from the window. It seemed weirdly as if he was a shadow that took solid form while crossing the threshold. Then he turned to her. Her Angel. Her Lover and Master. In a rush, all the memories came flooding back to her-the taste of his blood, the feel of his fangs piercing her skin, his penis pushing its way first into her mouth then violating her cunny. All of it. She felt awash with humiliation at what he'd done, and how much she had welcomed it. Longed for it, even while trembling in fear at his return. But eclipsing all this was the stupendous PRESENCE of her Master's arrival. At first she literally could not move. Could do nothing but watch, standing before him in nothing but her back knee-high stockings. Watch as he swept into her room, coming to the great chair her governess Miss Seward used for lessons. Watch as he opened his cloak to toss it aside. He also was now naked. His muscles, only a little less pale than marble, rippled as he sat down in the chair. The way he moved reminded Susan in some way of a cat. With him in it, the chair appeared to be a throne. One leg sprawled to the side. Another with the foot flat upon the rug. Between, his penis, erect. Waiting.

He gestured for her to approach.

Susan meant to scream. To run towards her door and flee. She did neither.

Instead she rushed over to her Angel and kneeled, eyes bright and mouth eager. What am I doing, she asked herself in a panic as she took the member in both hands. Each barely could reach all the way around. Guided the tip to her lips. Kissed it. Not once but many times, pressing her lips worshipfully to that muscle again and again.

No. I mustn't do this! Stop! Oh God! I must stop!

She licked it. Ran her tongue along the lower length of the shaft. Once. Twice. A third time. One split second before she did it, Susan realized she what she was going to do. Place her mouth around the crown. Suckle upon it. Taste it. Feel it pulse against her lips and tongue. As she did this, a warm flush spread from between her legs outward, and up towards her throat and face.

Please, no!

As her mouth took more of her Master's cock, sucking on it as she would a piece of candy, her hands stroked him. Milked him. Droplets of fluid began to emerge from the tip and she struggled not to eagerly swallow. But of course she did. Even sucked harder, trying to draw more. She used her tongue to lap at the tip, reaching down to shaft within her mouth and even lower. Moved her head up and down slightly.

His hands reached down, and cupped either side of her head. Guided her. Following that guidance, Susan picked up the pace and sought to bring more of his rampant cock into the warm wet cave of her mouth. She whimpered in her longing for she knew-not-what. Just as part of her-a silent, distant part-screamed and wept. When she looked up into those bright red eyes, her own hazel eyes flowed with tears. But she sucked all the harder. Part of her loathed what was happening. Most of her, though, wanted this.

Needed it.

She lost track of any time. Did she suck and lick upon the dark Angel for minutes or hours? How could she tell? Certainly she did not care. But she grew excited as his hands forced her into ever faster motion, the tip of his member slipping ever deeper. At last, to her horror and ecstasy, he grasped her head hard and pushed his cock a little further than ever before. Not all the way to her throat-not yet. But she sensed what to do. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked as hard as she possibly could! And kept sucking!

Liquid exploded from the tip! Warm, salty, splashing into her mouth as little Susan groaned with gratitude. She swallowed. Not all of it at one time, for some remained, but she refused to release. Instead she gulped down more, then more. The flesh invading her mouth pulsed once, twice, and several more times, each time spurting a tiny bit more thick viscous liquid onto her tongue.

When she let the organ out of her mouth, finally, she did so with a slurping sound. No drop was to escape her tongue. None did.

She had done it. Taken him into her mouth and made him climax in pleasure. The part of her desperate to flee or forget now dwindled. Perhaps some of her mind had fainted, leaving the fuck-toy of Dracula in sole custody of her ten-year-old body.

For several seconds, Susan continued to lick her master's cock, stroking it with her tiny fingers. Then, Dracula shifted. She looked up at his face again. The burning eyes entranced her, quite literally. To Susan, nothing could be more beautiful. His smile of approval stirred a kind of itch between her legs.

With skill and vast strength, he reached down to easily pick up the little girl. Lifted her and settled her upon his lap. Even so, she remained a head below him in height. She yet looked up at him. Then he reached below with one hand, shifting her weight with the other. It took barely a moment for Susan to realize his intention. She moved to help him. A few moments were all he needed. Now the tip of his cock rose poised at the entrance of her cunny. Her wet, hot cunny. When he stroked the tip across those lips, Susan whimpered.

"Please...oh, please!" Susan whispered.

"Please what, my little bride?" Even low, his voice seemed like thunder shaping words.

"Take me! I beg you!"

He barely needed to move at first. The tip entered her as it had done the night before. Just the tip. For now. But Susan gasped, letting out a low moan. She moved, seeking to give him better purchase. The wetness of her lips and the moisture on his cock helped, but it still took more than one try for her to find just the right angle, the perfect way to let her weight drive this welcome intruder harder and deeper. As one entire inch made its way inside, she trembled. Her hands reached to his shoulders. But Dracula's own hands went to the child's hips. Unlike her, he knew precisely what to do.

He began to push her hips down.

Susan's eyes went huge as his cock pushed up and it. Tight! She was so tight! And he was so big beside her! An animal grunt came from her as a second inch made its way. Upon the third, Susan's eyes rolled into head. Dracula of course did not stop. Although he did not rush, neither did he slow. Steady pressure pushed this beautiful child onto his member, and he paused only to enjoy the exquisite pleasure of moving her up before piercing her deeper.

Up and down. Slowly. Down, and then up. Followed by down. A little deeper each time.

"Uhhhhhhhh!" Susan's tiny mouth smiled. How could she not? This was now her purpose, her greatest joy. As the vampire lord violated her, she now felt nothing but happiness from the sensations of their flesh.

The movement soon grew faster as he pushed harder yet. By now Susan had started using her legs to lift herself upon Dracula, then push down again. Gasps and moans went with each thrust.

Eventually, he completely impaled her. All seven inches reached up, her cunny flat against his pelvis. For a few seconds, he waited. She herself could do nothing but breath in long, trembling breaths. And then - he wrapped one arm around her waist. The other reached up until one hand held Susan by the back of her small neck.

He began to thrust. And pulling her to him at the same time.

The high-pitched, almost inaudible sounds she made pleased him greatly. She soon emitted new sounds. Deeper ones. Grunts. And the speed with which he moved, fucking this gorgeous child, brought faster and louder noises from those tiny lips.

When she came, Susan trembled uncontrollably. Arms didn't quite flail, but they nearly did, moving almost randomly against his upper torso. Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again wider than she'd ever managed before. Susan leaned her head back, seeing nothing but just FEELING the sensations exploding all through her body!

And it didn't stop! Dracula saw no reason to cease his pleasure simply due to her climax. Quite the opposite! He thrust harder and harder still, enjoying her helpless reaction as yet another wave of sensations from their coupling made her tremble and moan. She fell forward, her face ending up in Dracula's chest. She gasped for breath. Yet still, he did not stop! Ramming himself into her, he enjoyed witnessing several more climaxes shudder through his child bride. By the time he finally spent himself, Susan tiny frame glistened in the dim light from sweat and her breathing was little more than hollow groans. The last thrust into her, the heat of Dracula's seed pouring into her immature womb, all this made her climax one final time. She lost consciousness, fainting from more physical sensation than she'd ever imagined.

---

The next morning, Lady Godalming listened to the report from Miss Seward and investigated herself. Alice seemed pale and very tired, indeed. Susan, however, apparently had a kind of fever. Pale, yes, and like her sister quite exhausted. But feverish as well. Eyes too bright, yet not really paying attention to anything said to her.

She wondered about calling in a doctor for the child.

To Be Continued