Bianca noted with interest how the routine of the estate changed with her sisters' illness. Susan and Alice both looked pale and weak. They got breakfast in bed. Mamma and Papa seemed worried. Which meant they weren't paying much attention to her.

Excellent!

The first part of the day went on as normal, save for an obligatory visit with her mother first to Susan, then Alice. Bianca did as she knew they expected. Smiling. Wishing them better. But in her most secret thoughts she thought it strange. Although looking genuinely sick, her sisters looked weirdly happy. Their smiles hinted at some kind of secret. A shared secret. One she did not share. Bianca resolved to do something about that.

But first, she had a long boring set of lessons with her governess, Miss Seward. That took up the rest of the morning and the first part of the afternoon. Fortunately, Bianca remained clever. She did well learning. Her natural talent at deceit also helped, so that Miss Seward probably imagined the girl liked wasting time like this. By the time the clock in the teaching room chimed two o'clock, however, Bianca was free. She had plans.

Her plans involved the pony her father had purchased for his "little princess" last year. By now she was as expert a rider as any eleven-year-old could be. That she would mount her pony to go exploring the Rings Estate surprised no one. She did it at least once or twice a week after lessons. No one, not even her sisters, imagined what Bianca really did on those trips. They knew not how many times she'd made her way to the abandoned Carfax nearby, exploring its rooms and towers, pretending it her very own castle. Fairy tales nearly always included some kind of castle. An evil beautiful queen would reign from such a place. Or some huge Beast called it his domain, until tamed by Beauty (or until he tamed her-Bianca could see it happening either way). That some stranger dared to buy the place pleased her not at all.

Within an hour after going on her ride, Bianca reached the old hunting cottage at the edge of the Holmwood and Carfax properties. No one lived there. Its simple rooms only held some old furniture. The windows still held against the elements and the door could be locked. Bianca stole the key ages ago. And given it eventually to William Harker.

He waited for her inside. Bianca left her pony tied outside and stepped within the cottage making sure she put on a happy face for William. Easy enough, that. She did like him, looked forward to seeing him, not least in seeing what else she could make him do.

William Harker stood a head taller than her, although only four years her senior. To Bianca he was very pretty. Dark hair that made bangs. Eyes deep blue as the sea. Red, full lips.

"Hello!" she said to him in her best thrilled-to-be-here voice. He looked at her in that hungry way Bianca enjoyed so much. She ran over to him, the length of the tiny front room, and gave the boy a hug. Her cheek reached his upper chest. Both hands reached behind and rested atop his bottom. The little gasp he made when she did that gave her a tingling feeling. Holding him tighter, she even felt the muscle under his trousers, swollen and hard. It's heat reached her navel through the layers of clothes between them. Slowly hand hands reached down. One against her back, the other touching the golden curls of her head. Bianca felt his muscle twitch a little against her tummy. She liked that sensation.

Then she looked up into his big blue eyes. "I need your help."

---

Abigail made her way silently up the stairs into the tower room. Thick carpet helped, muffling each step she made. Had she been an adult, perhaps her weight might have made some of the steps creak. But being twelve, and thin, they remained silent.

It looked much as it had the week before, during the night of the big storm. Unused furniture tucked away here and there. Sofas and chairs mostly. The big window looking out at the sea and coast. She sat down and gazed outwards. Clouds dotted the sky. Waves crashed in the distance, blue topped with white foam. Sea birds did their lazy circles. North, along the coast, she saw the old estate of Carfax, a Tudor-style square of gables and towers. One of Abigail's favorite books was Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. She imagined the manor house of the title looking very much like Carfax. Gossip among the servants claimed the new owner, a foreign nobleman, only hired a minimal staff once the place had been cleaned up and repaired. They whispered in shocked, delighted tones that this Count Dracula person chose to keep less than half a dozen girls. All young. All pretty. None with families in the area.

She found herself wondering about the Count. What was he like? Maybe he simply preferred the company of the young and felt uncomfortable around his own gender. It seemed possible.

This room remained a place of refuge for her in the big house that still didn't feel like home. While the other girls might come here from time to time, they rarely did when Abigail used it. Nor did she mind when they did. Not usually.

Here she relaxed in quiet solitude. Susan and Alice were sick enough to still be in bed. Abigail wished them well, grateful the only symptom seemed exhaustion. Bianca had gone out on one of her riding excursions, probably to return a little before dusk. Her father's favorite, and she knew it. She got away with quite a lot. Now, alone, Abigail let herself dream a bit.

And her dreams, at least of late, focused upon the Lord and Lady of Rings. Arthur and Lucy. A big daguerreotype of their wedding portrait hung in the main parlor. To Abigail they looked splendid, and not much different that they did today. That Arthur Holmwood, Lord Godalming, was her uncle seemed hardly important. She didn't really feel family connections as such. Rather, she felt an attraction to their faces, despite the slight weight gain and tiny sags that showed. Both retained their figures. More importantly, both had the same slightly wicked smiles, then and now.

Closing her eyes, Abigail imagined what it would be like, to walk with her hand in theirs. Down the corridors to the bed chamber they shared. She imagined them undressing her, kissing her. First on the cheeks and lips, then upon her fingers. As each garment went away, more of Abigail's flesh received their kisses. Shoulders. The upper arms. Inside her wrists. The aching points of her nipples.

Her nipples ached now. Placing hands upon her chest, Abigail held the tiny swellings through the layers of cloth. Used her thumbs to stroke those points. Hard, so she could feel it. Imagined her thumbs were not fingers, but tongues. Their tongues. Lord Arthur and Lady Lucy. In her mind's eyes she was naked in their bed, coddled and kissed and stroked by them. She imagined them naked as well, but had trouble quite picturing that. Lacking specifics from which to build her dreams, her mind conjured simply the feel of their skin. The taste of their lips. The love in their fingers running along her bare arms, legs, belly and back.

For half an hour, Abigail dreamed of this, until she grew bored. Not bored exactly, for in truth she felt there should be more. But what it might be she didn't know. So at last her dream went as far as her experience and imagination allowed it. So when she left the tower room, she felt somehow hungry. Or unfulfilled. But knew not what to do about it.

---

Susan hovered just outside of sleep. Everyone left her alone, thinking to give her rest. In truth, she did rest. But also, she remembered. She had not the words for it, but her mind sought to deal with her experiences of late. Part of her realized she had changed. No longer the girl she had been, her heart knew not what to feel about the girl she was becoming.

Where was her guilt? The dark angel that came into her room at night did things to her, make her feel things she knew to be wrong. Shameful. A sin, or indeed many sins. Yet she longed for them, more than she wanted chocolate or Christmas presents or nice dresses. The feel of his organ in her mouth was disgusting. And wonderful. Most wonderful. When it pierced her between the legs, going in and out over and over it should hurt. Did hurt! But the pain felt good! Better than good. When he did it she never wanted him to stop. Or at least not until she felt herself explode, her whole body trembling and shaking with pleasure.

She shouldn't want this.

She'd do anything to have more. Anything at all.

Last night, he'd done even more. It had hurt more than anything else. She'd loved it. Couldn't stop hoping he'd do it again.

Her eyes had opened instantly from a deep sleep. Hours must have passed since she went to bed. She felt as if something made her wake, and she struggled with the impulse to fall back into slumber. But she didn't. Rather, she looked excitedly towards the window. It had been opening. A mist flowed into her room, solidifying into the dark-robed figure of her Master, her Love, her Dark Angel. Yes! Another part of her wailed No! But by now that was a paltry sliver of Susan. Most of her longed for what would now happen.

As her master approached, his dark cloak dropped to the floor. She looked at his naked body, drinking it in. The sleek muscles moving under ivory skin. Raven-black hair, including the down leading to his engorged organ. It grew as he approached. Rose in excitement. Preparing to use her.

Susan had trembled, pushing her covers aside. Shaking fingers began to unbutton her nightgown. Between her legs, a wetness began to grow. Likewise her mouth watered.

By the time he'd reached her bed, Susan managed to get her nightgown completely off her body. Now naked she reached up for him, welcomed the strong arms that picked her up so easily, bared her throat to his kiss.

Fangs slid into the same wounds as before. Shivering, Susan felt her blood, her life, flow into her master's mouth for him to devour. Yes. This was a reason to live! To be devoured by her master.

It ended all too soon.

As he withdrew, Susan sighed. In many ways this was her favorite part. Giving herself to him this way. But she felt eager to give herself even more. As he lowered her to the floor, she sank to her knees. His organ was now rampant, having reached its full size. Taking hold of it, she began licking and kissing. Soon the entire head slipped past her lips. As it did, her mouth made a sound something like when she was given candy, or slurped soup from her spoon. By now she realized precisely what to do. Her tongue caressed the head, sometimes even circling it. She traced the base of that tip with her tongue, murmuring in happiness. As it pushed deeper into her mouth, Susan's tongue snaked out, starting to run along the underside. Her checks went hollow with the suction created.

What followed seemed leisurely. Not frantic at all. Her half closed eyes resembled those of an addict with his pipe. Unfocused. Strangely happy. But also, a slave. A willing thrall and servant, who steadily sought to bring the head of the master's organ ever-deeper into her hot, willing mouth. She drooled with the pleasure of it, and only a tiny part of the Susan-who-had-been objected.

Just as she objected, all-but-unheard by Susan, when the master lifted the ten-year-old girl and lay her on the bed.

The Susan-who-was splayed her legs. Seeing those fiery red eyes looking at her with lust thrilled her. How she wanted this now! Could not bear to be without it!

"Please," she whispered. "Take me."

Master began by stroking his organ against the now-moist cleft of her cunny. Every time he slid it against Susan's lower lips she almost whimpered. Like an itch not quite scratched, or some kind of release teased but not fulfilled. He did this time and again, letting her hunger grow. In less than two minutes, Susan squirmed in frustration, even pushing her lower parts at him, trying to catch the head of his organ with the opening she so needed it to go!

Almost in tears, she whispered again "Please!"

Then--Oh god! Susan's muscles tensed at the size of the invader, the speed and power with which it thrust into her tightness! No mercy or hesitation! Zero time with which to get ready. Just furious impalement, all the way into her, until pelvis touched pelvis!

It was what she wanted. Had begged for. And it hurt. Even the pain felt glorious, though, as her Master pulled out to thrust yet again into her.

Yes! More! Let it hurt! She wanted it to hurt!

He developed a rhythm of penetrating her, one she matched now, thrusting back and welcoming every lancing shot of ecstasy he inflicted. The invader, the hot muscle that forced its way into her tiny opening, reminded Susan of peeling off a scab-a sweet ache impossible to stop once begun. Only more. So much more! Feelings of pain and humiliation mingled with a fever-like joy.

When he pulled away, long before either one of them approached climax, Susan felt confused. Lost. In despair she looked at her dark angel, wondering what she'd done wrong?

But his eyes, if anything burned somehow fiercer. That smile contained more, not less lust than before. He took hold of both tiny thighs with his hands and pulled her closer. Parted her legs even wider, and higher. Eager to help, Susan grabbed her own knees. Anything for her master!

Then, he pressed the head of his organ where she did expect. Susan's eyes went huge. He was piercing her bum! Even slick with the liquid from their coupling, his cock had trouble. If anything, this hole felt tighter than the first! Susan began gasping. Her master wanted this. So she did. She must! Even as she shook with fear.

Using one hand, he aimed the head of it more squarely into her little hole. Then, slowly but inexorably, pushed.

Susan thought she might faint! Eyes rolling into her head, head itself lolling to the side, this felt like she might split in two! Mercy, she almost said. Please don't. I don't want this. But, she said nothing. Instead, she tried to relax and allow her master to violate a new part of her body. Even with all this pain, she wanted to please him. Enjoyed his touch. Reveled in his lust for her.

Which is why although his penetration of her little bum seemed an endless torture, she found herself welcoming it. Somehow this felt deeper, even when he'd barely gotten the head in. As it did enter, she shuddered and let out an animal moan.

Please. Stop. Go on. Pull it out. Deep, deeper. Let it end. Never stop. Stop. Never. Oh god! It feels, it feels-- Please. Please! PLEASE!

Another eternity as he slowly pushed half his length into her protesting little ass, while Susan herself gave tiny gasps. When he pulled out an inch, she nearly wept. In relief? Or disappointment? Or maybe, both? Either way, he thrust again almost immediately and drove another half-inch into her!

Susan shuddered again, and yet again as he repeated the gesture, piercing her still deeper again.

But now she'd thrown back her head on the mattress. Eyes wide open, she saw nothing. Only felt as the invader claimed this new part of her body. She could not fight it. Even now the Susan-that-was faded still more. It had been a voice in her head, then a whisper trying to scream. Now it was an echo of a whisper, barely existing at all.

And she began to thrust back.

Deliciously, the Master's organ slid in and out of her bottom, sending wave after wave of pain and pleasure. Enough to make her scream or cry. His strong hands reached up to grab her shoulders, allowing him to push harder, deeper, faster. Susan trembled as he did it. Why? Why was he doing this? Why did she love it so much?

In truth, as Susan drifted into sleep the next afternoon, her memory summoning up what had happened the night before, she dimly realized many details had faded. It had seemed like forever last night, as her Dark Angel ran his tongue along her nipples while violating her again and again. Twice more in the cunny, once while she was on her hands and feet. She'd sucked the seed from his organ at one point, eager to swallow each drop. And he'd finished by making her go on all fours once more so he could spend a cruel and sweet hour again pushing his organ as deep into her bottom as it would go. That time he'd gotten nearly all of it in. She'd wept with joy.

And as she finally fell asleep, Susan-who-was no longer made any protests.

To be continued