Dr. Renfield seemed like a gentle enough old man to Alice. Bald as an egg up top, but with bushy gray eyebrows and a pointed white beard. Blue eyes that looked comical through his pinz-nez glasses.

"Now Miss Holmwood," he said, with a smile, "tell me about your sleep? Do you dream?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes." With her mother watching from the other side of the bed, Alice knew she was to tell the truth. Usually, she did anyway. Except when it came to little things, like sneaking out of bed with her sisters to watch the storm. Very exciting that! But private.

He held her tiny wrist and looked at his fob watch. "What kind of dreams?"

"All sorts." Such a general question she didn't know how to answer. "I dreamed I was a princess the other night."

"Indeed?"

"From a fairy tale," she nodded, grinning. A modest little girl, she didn't realize just how lovely this made her look. Although she had her father's coloring, with golden hair and perfect complexion, Alice's features echoed those of her mother. She (and everyone else) thought Lady Godalming extremely beautiful. Delicate nose, chin and cheeks. Eyes that looked slightly large in her face. Thin but perfectly formed lips. Given a chance, she too would grow up to be a great beauty, quite possibly woo'd as her mother had been by a slew of admirers. "I think I was Sleeping Beauty or maybe Snow White, but a handsome prince came to wake me with a kiss."

"Ah," said the old doctor with a chuckle, "these are favorite stories of yours?"

"No," she said. "I like Beauty and the Beast most of all. That, and Little Red Riding Hood."

"But do you sleep well? Do these dreams wake you?"

She shook her head.

"And yet you are so tired, Miss Alice." He put the back of his hand upon her forehead, then did the same with each cheek. "However, no fever!"

"My prince in the dream, he isn't like the ones in the books at all," Alice offered. Her mother asked her to explain. "He's got long dark hair and a long moustache. Plus his clothes are these long dark robes."

"But is he handsome?"

"Oh yes! He's very handsome!"

"Quite right," her mother smiled. "Only a most handsome prince would deserve you."

Alice smiled in return. What she didn't share-and had no idea why-was how the kiss from her dark prince hurt yet felt wonderful at the same time. How she kept thinking about how it felt, how she hoped to feel it again tonight, how he kissed not her lips but her neck and somehow that made her entire body feel the strangest but lovely tingly feelings.

---

As Dr. Renfield and Lady Godalming spoke in the hallway, neither realized they had an eavesdropper. Bianca Holmwood, the Lord and Lady's eldest daughter, long ago mastered the art of cracking open a door silently. She listened as they passed.

"Most likely a simple, quick infection that her body shook off relatively quickly," said the Doctor. "The effort of doing so, however, drained her physical strength. She has very little after all, being so young."

"If that's true, I'm most relieved to hear it!"

"As I said, most likely. Children are prone to sudden sickness, but also to rapid recovery. Consider the diseases that remain almost harmless in the very young, while worrisome in the extreme when manifested in adults!"

"Perhaps the same can be said of Susan?"

"Quite possibly."

They passed out of earshot, en route to Susan's room. Bianca's face, were anyone there to see it, looked sly. In truth, she didn't really wish either of her sisters to suffer, not seriously anyway, but she thought taking advantage of when they were very much fair game. Let the adults fuss over them. For now. Distracted, they'd pay less attention to Bianca. Not that she objected to attention, but preferred it at a time and place of her choosing. And from whom she liked. Quietly shutting her door, she made some plans.

A note to William Harker. Easy enough to arrange. Her mother's best friend's son was three years older than Bianca, a gangly but actually very good-looking fourteen. Bianca actually thought him pretty. Clear, white skin. Dark, dark hair like his father and doe-like eyes almost identical to his mother. Scrumptous, in fact. Better yet, he was smitten with her, would do anything she asked, or almost. All in hopes of the kisses she let him have now and then (truthfully, she liked his kisses well enough).

Every now and then, they did more than kiss. Three times now she'd allowed his hand to touch her not-quite-budding chest through the fabric of her dress. Once, and only once, her fingers brushed against the bulge in his pants. She treasured the sound of his gasp, and look in those pretty eyes.

Surely he'd help her sneak into Carfax, get a look at this new owner!

---

When asked questions, Susan answered as non-specifically as possible. The doctor and her mum hopefully took this as signs of illness. Or tiredness. Well, she was tired. Very tired.

But she couldn't let them know why. Part of her wanted to, longed to confess all and beg for help, for rescue from the dark angel who ravished her night after night. But only part of her. Mostly, she longed for His return. Dreamt on the sight of his body, a slender figure of living ivory with ebon hair and eyes like burning coals. Those eyes set her on fire. Whether she choose or not.

"No, I don't remember any dreams." Not a lie. They weren't dreams. She knew. Susan could taste his seed in her mouth in the morning. Still felt tender from the piercing of cunny.

The doctor felt her face. "No fever," he pronounced. "You do look a little pale, young Miss Holmwood."

Of course. He used more than his member to violate her body. Fangs. She made herself remain still at the memory. Why she had no idea, but He had bitten her neck with those fangs and swallowed her blood. It seemed bizarre, horrible, a nightmare-but why had it felt so good? Better than good! Fantastic enough she looked forward to his next meal.

"But," the doctor continued, "maybe a little sun as well as some good hearty broth will do much to restore her color." He no longer spoke to her, but to Mum. Good. Susan bowed her head, let her mind wander to what would happen tonight. When He returned, to do things she did not understand but wanted more than anything.

"I'll speak to cook."

"Very good. Meanwhile, I think we may assume both your girls are recovering from the same malady. They each prevailed against the illness that assaulted them, and left weak by the short but intense struggle."

"But Doctor, does this mean the other children are in danger?"

"That remains a possibility, milady."

---

Bianca enjoyed the traditional access to the entire house granted children of the era. This meant, among other things, access to the occasional sweet or bit of gossip. But also, she found it an excellent training ground. She'd been learning to ride a pony for a little over a year and understood that skills needed practice. Just as animals needed to be trained. She thought of boys in pretty much the same way.

Boys like Tommy, all of sixteen and gangly but good-looking in a rough kind of way. His unkept hair was sandy, and his skin rough but unscarred by pimples. The butler at Rings had standards for personal cleanliness and put up with no excuses. Tommy washed regularly and thoroughly, even if in cold water. As a result, he avoided most acne. His hands remained relatively clean. More, he smelled better than one might expect. All of which made him worthy of Bianca's attention.

As Hall Boy, he was also the lowest ranking of any male servant in the manor. When the Viscount's daughter told him to do something, he did it.

Not that she relied on the social order alone to get her way.

"Tommy?" She waited until he was going along the hallway, en route with some package from the Butler to the Housekeeper. He turned. Of course he recognized Bianca's voice. Stepping out of the shadows, she posed and smiled.

His reaction pleased her. She'd been experimenting with different looks. This one seemed to work quite well. Hair pulled back in a ribbon, coupled with the lowest collar she had. The blouse itself was off-white, but she wore dark blue skirt and matching coat. Her bare skin almost glowed as a result-neck and face. As an added touch, the first two buttons of her blouse remained undone. She took a deep breath. Tommy's glance wandered to those buttons.

"Yes miss?"

"Aren't you going to the Harker house later today?"

"Well, yes, miss-I'm delivering a cake. Your Lady mother wanted her friend Mrs. Harker to have one, she liked it so much."

"I thought so." She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Can you deliver a letter for me while you're there?" And she smiled.

Tommy, a head and a half taller than her, had to look down. He looked down into her blouse, at least some. He couldn't help it. Bianca noticed this and felt pleased.

"You see," she went on, "William and I want to plan something for his sister's birthday. It will be our surprise. Can you do this? And make sure no one sees you do it?" One hand reached out and touched him. At the hip. Bianca noticed whenever she touched a boy they got more obedient. But when she touched not hands or arms but their body, the more they seemed to react. Sure enough, Tommy went rigidly still as her tiny hand remained on his hip, waiting for an answer.

"I can do that." He voice almost cracked. Bianca suppressed a giggle. Instead she reached into her coat pocket and took out the note, all folded and with William's name on it. She carefully slipped the note into Tommy's front trouser pocket. As she did so, his breathing got a little louder.

On impulse, she patted his trouser, where the letter now nestled in his pocket.

With a blinding smile, she whispered "Thank you." Tommy wasn't blinking, just looking at her as if he'd been hit in the head.

Quite pleased with herself, Bianca made her way back upstairs. Boys were proving a lot more fun to play with than she'd expected.

---

Alice woke that night in the middle of her dream.

Just like before, she'd been a princess in a tower, asleep because of some kind of magic. But she knew her prince would come and rescue her one day. Then, flying on strange dark wings, he came to the balcony outside her bed chamber. He entered. She knew he was there, even while yet asleep. Knew he wore a long black cloak like that of a vicar. Yet here was no priest. Rather, a man of royal blood. With magic eyes like rubies. And as he approached her bed, he let the cloak fall. Revealing that beautiful body.

His mouth descended upon her throat to kiss her, the kiss that hurt yet felt better than anything else. She gasped and smiled in that kiss. When his arms swept her up to hold Alice's small body closer, she felt as if every daydream she'd ever had vanished, replaced by this one.

She could not recall the next part of the dream. But as the sensations in her body grew, her eyes flickered open. Realized she was awake. And that her prince was no dream.

Her nightgown was open, every button unclasped and her bare body revealed. Her prince, the very figure of whom she dreamed, had her tiny thighs in his strong hands, holding them apart. And his face, that was where he legs met! The prince had his mouth on her little cunny, lapping and probing it with his tongue.

For Alice, this was like being tickled. Only, not. For one thing, she didn't want this to stop! The sensations sent ripples along her entire body, not unlike a itch somewhere she could never reached at long last scratched. But more than that! Much more! So very much!

His tongue could not enter her body more than an inch or so, but Alice would have sworn it reached all the way to her center. Or some part of it did. She felt dizzy with every stroke, every scraping motion of flesh against flesh. Any thought of shame or surprise dissolved. She rode these sensations the way she'd seen Bianca ride her pony. Even her body began to rock the same way, matching what the prince was doing with his mouth. Meeting his movements. Pushing herself against his mouth. His tongue. The suction there.

At last, Alice felt herself melt. Flexing hands and feet, arching her back, gasping, it was as if her body were some kind of violin or guitar. Every string hit some new, wonderful note. She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.

She was in love.

Her eyes barely focused as the prince stood up now and she saw him. Saw It. His member. Longer than her hand. It had the shape of a very tall mushroom, flesh-colored. Especially the tip. And she wanted it. Wanted to give to her prince what he had given her. Full of love and gratitude-in fact those emotions blanketing every other impulse in her immature mind, lacking the willpower to even try to resist-Alice crawled out of her bed. She knelt before him.

But she proved too short. Now her mouth bared reached the base of that member, where its base reached the point where a fleshy bag hung from the torso. Alice kissed him there, at the base. Her tongue snaked out and ran along that point. Its tip played with very top of the fleshy sack, as well as the bottommost inch of his shaft. Both hands reached up to touch it. Stroke it.

He helped her. With one quick movement he sat up on her bed, weight bringing it and him (and IT) closer. Happier than she thought possible, Alice began to kiss its length. Holding it in hand, she planted open wet kisses up and down. Reached with her tongue, feeling out with it. Tracing what seemed like veins up and down.

Clear liquid seeped from the tip as she did this. Alice caught of it on her tongue, while the saliva of her mouth allowed her hands to stroke his royal member.

Now her tongue focused on that tip. Circled it. Lapped at it. Took it past her lips and into a mouth eager to commit this act of worship. Once the head actually rested on her tongue, she never wanted it to leave. Just as she longed to draw more of the clear, thicker than water liquid into her mouth.

So, she sucked.

From his groans, Alice knew this pleased him. She could not imagine he liked it better than she. Sucking harder, she tried to milk him. Tiny hands, too tiny to fully wrap around this muscle, squeezed and pulled.

To her joy, he took her head in hand and guided her movements!

Soon her world became this act, this suction created with her tiny mouth, powerful hands on either side of her head providing the ever-growing rhythm, the pointed tip of her prince's organ slipping ever deeper into her mouth. Alice felt her cheeks pull in as she did her best to please Him. As she worked her tongue faster and faster.

And then-release! The liquid pulsed into her mouth in a hot stream! No, not the same liquid. What she tasted now was thicker, heavier. She liked it. Refused to loose any.

He held her fast in a rigid grip, her mouth filled and the tip of Him almost at the back of her throat. She nearly coughed as another pulse of the thick liquid shot out, but still she swallowed. Alice could barely see. Realized dimly her eyes were full of tears. She had trouble breathing. But she didn't care!

With her head in a vise, she sucked as hard as she could-and her hands, still free, squeezed and pulled to draw out every drop!

Only when forced to did she open her mouth to gasp for air-but for no more than a second. She closed her mouth again and sucked some more! A trickle still pulsed against her tongue. Alice swallowed. Coughed a little. Had to take another gasping breath before again trying for the last her prince had in him.

Then, his hands relaxed. His member no longer pulsed as much nor sprayed the thick liquid into her mouth. Drops only emerged. Taking deep breaths from her nose, still she licked and eagerly swallowed. Not for what seemed like a long time did she even allow his now-soft, now-less lengthy organ to slip out of her lips.

When she looked up, and saw his smile, she felt proud.

To Be Continued