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From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 9 of 50  [Yotna El'toub] (F-solo, WS, f/F, MC)
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Date: Thu, 10 Mar 2005 18:10:05 -0500
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********************************************************************
             {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 9 of 50
             [Yotna El'toub] (F-solo, WS, f/F, MC)
********************************************************************
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language of an 
adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal age to do so. If 
you are a minor or object to stories of an adult nature, LEAVE HERE 
IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is 18+ please abide to your own 
local laws.

Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The characters 
portrayed in this story are just that, characters in my story. Any 
similarities to real people are purely coincidental and unintentional. The 
characters and situations portrayed are pure fantasy; the author is keen to 
state that in reality adult sexuality should remain only in the adult world.

Please do not allow or cause this story to fall into the hands of minors.
____________________________________________________________________


Chapter nine: Though the Brightest Fell.

She stared up at the shower spray; seconds later the hot water hit her head, 
plastering her hair to her scalp. The torrent of water washed away the 
wine-induced fuzziness, and Leanne began to sing.

"Show me Love, 'til it's inside my pores.
Show me Love, Show me Love, Show me Love,
Show me Love, Show me Love, 'til I'm screaming for more."

Leanne held her mouth open and allowed the water to purge her taste buds of 
last night's wine. It had been a long time since she had felt this good; all 
her frustrations seemed a thing of the past. The simple things in life can 
wash away the deepest of cares. Against her will, Leanne's mind drifted back 
to the events of the past week.

Suddenly she felt incredibly guilty; how could she be so happy when Cath was 
missing? Leanne turned off the water with reluctance, 'Ah well, back to 
reality,' she thought glumly. She wondered for the one thousandth time where 
her daughter could have gone. The police had been very nice, but she was 
unsure of their enthusiasm when it came to finding errant teenagers.

Water dripped from her cropped black hair, dampening the collar of her 
towelling robe, as she crossed the landing and returned to her bedroom. 
Casually she flung the robe onto the crumpled duvet; her eyes caught her 
reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Leanne turned and scrutinised her naked 
body, 'Not bad, even if I say so myself,' she thought. Her hands caressed 
the rounded globes of flesh, her fingers teasing the nipples to hard buds. 
For an instant, the fondling halted, 'I really should get on... I can't, but 
it's been so long...' she chastised herself. A second later her decision was 
made.

The damp robe was flung to the floor, and Leanne wiggled her body into the 
softness of the duvet. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go, 
and let her fingers plunder the soft wetness of her insatiable vulva. Leanne 
rolled her crinkled labia between her fingers, and spread the wetness along 
her trembling slit. Her back arched as the soft massage reached the shaft of 
her clitoris. Leanne was amazed by the bulk of her normally tiny organ; she 
gripped its head and slowly wanked it with a smooth motion. Her touch was 
electric, in seconds she came, driving her hips towards the vibrating 
digits.

Her lust soared. There was no relief. Her left hand fell lower and the 
fingers crawled into her humid vagina, spreading it lewdly. The trusting 
fingers found the area, the resistant spongy spot; she was rewarded by a 
warm squirt of fluid on her flexing palm. Her contracting fists fell into an 
established rhythm; Leanne's libido expanded. It filled her. It possessed 
her completely.

A link was created, and the ecstatic, erotic download began; images flooded 
into her fevered brain. Cath appeared before her, her thighs spread wide, 
whilst a long female tongue fucked her. Leanne drank in the swell of her 
daughter's breasts, and her tongue lolled from her twitching lips, 
stretching, reaching for the imagined nipples. Leanne exploded, ignoring the 
hot stream of piss that ruined her favourite duvet.

Minutes passed, an hour flew by. Eventually Leanne stood; she gazed down at 
the wreckage of her bed. Tears stung her eyes as she wept for herself, and 
her absent daughter. After a while, Leanne staggered from her urine 
fragranced boudoir. She stomped down the stairs, sadly dragging her soggy 
duvet in her wake. At the foot of the stairs she halted. The headline on the 
morning paper screamed at her from the doormat.

`Man Held Over Local Disappearances - Police Concerned'.


                    --------------------


Janet's tired eyes struggled to stay open, her head nodded momentarily. 
Suddenly she was much closer to the rear of the police car than she had 
remembered, `Come on girl, wakey, wakey!' she thought. Janet brought her 
right hand down from the steering wheel and slapped her right thigh hard. 
Her eyes sprung open and her attention was back fully on the road before 
her. It was not a moment too soon, the Police car indicated and turned into 
a deserted car park. Janet braked, indicated right and followed Helen's 
lead. Seconds later, she sighed contentedly, as she turned off the Subaru's 
throbbing engine.

Helen rapped her knuckles against Janet's driver's window; it slid down 
silently.

"Are you OK?" Helen asked.

"Yeah, just tired, I almost lost it at the end there."

"Well we're here now, let's see what these West Country plods have to say 
for themselves."

"Haven't you got to get back?" Janet asked.

"I should, but this is a damn sight more interesting than anything waiting 
for me in Thames Valley, and I want to help."

"Thanks," said Janet, "you've already done a lot."

"Us girls have got to stick together!" Helen smiled.

Janet linked arms with the smiling WPC and walked towards the Railway 
Station.

Leanne sat patiently in the reception area watching the early morning 
comings and goings. The latest arrivals walked in, and approached the 
counter. The taller uniformed one spoke clearly.

"This is Janet Widdowson. I believe you are holding a friend of hers, one 
Jeff Contadino, on suspicion of murder."

Before there was any reply from the desk sergeant, Leanne erupted, furiously 
gesticulating, as she dashed to the counter.

"Jeff! You think Jeff Contadino has murdered my Cathy. Why the hell have I 
been sat here like a lemon for an hour? `Nothing substantive' you told me, 
you bastard!"

The pale-faced desk sergeant swallowed hard.

"Please calm down, Mrs Hebbert, there's nothing to get upset about."

"Nothing to... Are you mad? Cathy's dead and you have the man, but you don't 
tell me, I repeat, Are you MAD?" Leanne screamed.

"Mrs Hebbert, we don't know anything yet. It's suspected kidnap and murder, 
there are no bodies or evidence."

Leanne Hebbert turned and launched a desperate attack on Janet; her fists 
pummelled the surprised woman. Helen snaked her arms around the attacker's 
waist, and tugged her away from a terrified Janet. Helen caught an elbow in 
the eye, and reeled backwards. The wild mother was held by another woman, in 
seconds the cuffs were on. The shocked sergeant led Leanne away.

"You just come and have a chat with me, Mrs Hebbert, we will sort this out," 
he said.

Helen caught hold of the hand that was extended towards her, and pulled 
herself to her feet.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem, DI Lorna Mills at your service. Are you both OK?"

"Sure," said Helen.

"More surprised than hurt," replied Janet.

"Well, you are going to have quite a shiner from that elbow. Let's get a 
cold compress on that now," Lorna advised, "follow me."

Lorna led them through the double doors, and into the female changing room.

"Take off that tunic; we don't want to get your uniform messed up," Lorna 
said.

Leanne sat glaring at the empty space in front of her; she was livid. `Just 
who do they think they are, trying to pull the wool over a mother's eyes?' 
her thoughts boiled. The door swung open, a white haired, ruddy faced man in 
a grey suit had joined the thin, pale sergeant. Both of them filed in, the 
stocky one sat with a slight groan. The silent sergeant remained standing, 
his back poker-straight against the breeze block wall.

"Mrs Hebbert, Leanne, this is most unfortunate," George Clunes cleared his 
throat, "allow me to explain."

"Explain away! This had better be good," Leanne spat.

Clunes sighed, cast a withering glance at his sergeant, and began his 
explanation.


               ---------------------------------

Rachael was the first in the crowded bed to awaken; to her immense 
frustration none of the others would stir, not even one muscle. They were 
exhausted by the hours of passionate love play. Rachael, on the other hand, 
was wide awake. Her fretful nature took over, within seconds she was bored, 
within minutes she rose; Rachael was on the hunt for some excitement.

Rachael pulled her discarded tee-shirt over her head and smoothed it down 
over her contours. Bare legged, she strode to the hotel door, aggravated by 
the dull snoring behind her. She stuck her tousled head out of the door and 
looked to the left and right, `All clear'. Rachael chuckled and slipped 
unnoticed into the hotel corridor. A quick tour of her floor was fruitless, 
it was deserted.

Hesitantly, Rachael pressed the button beside the lift doors. By the time 
the lift had arrived from the ground floor, her impatience had overcome her 
common sense. `Bloody slow thing,' she thought as she entered the small 
cubicle. Her finger pressed the button for one floor down, Rachael giggled 
as the lift doors closed.

Lissette Poyle fluffed the pillow, and positioned it with loving care 
smoothing away the creases. She turned and called out to the other 
chambermaid.

"Nearly done on this floor, Chrissie, how are you doing?"

When no answer came, Lissette walked to the door of the suite.

"Chrissie, are you there?"

No reply came, but Lissette heard a low painful moan from the corridor.

"Chrissie, are you OK, girl?" Lissette asked softly.

Lissette pulled open the door and poked her head into the corridor, her eyes 
widened in shock. Chrissie stood, lolling against a guest's door, her legs 
were splayed crudely open, between them a bare behind bobbed up and down on 
unknown heel's. Although Lissette could only see a bulge under Chrissie's 
skirt rather than a head, Lissette's imagination filled in the detail 
accurately.

"Holy fuck," Lissette said.

Her words were louder than intended, the fabric covered head ducked down and 
appeared from between Chrissie's legs. One look at the secretion smeared 
lips, the wild hair and the glowing red eyes was enough. Lissette flew from 
the recently cleaned room, and headed for the fire escape. In an instant, 
the wild woman had caught up with her, and floored her with an improvised 
rugby tackle. Lissette struggled as panic flooded through her, she drew back 
her free foot and drove it at the mad woman.

A second later, Lissette half hobbled, half hopped, down the steel spiral 
staircase. Tears streaked her make-up.

Rachael sat holding the prim white shoe in her hand.

"Shit! Never mind, I still have you, don't I?" She muttered as she crawled 
back towards the reclining chambermaid. Seconds later, the entranced girl 
began the climb towards her next orgasm.


                   --------------------------


Miles away from the luxurious hotel, another entranced woman shuddered on 
the verge of her third orgasm. She pushed her slit down hard against the 
active tongue that speared her lips. Her hands rummaged under the blue serge 
of a police tunic, busily fingering the spiked nipples. Lorna grunted her 
passion into Helen's mouth, gasping from the thrashing, muscular organ that 
circled her clit.

Janet bucked between Lorna's wide open legs, her climax fuelled by her own 
spasming fingers buried deep in her wetness. The extra motion was enough to 
tip Lorna over the edge and into the delirium of another high. Helen pushed 
her tongue down into Lorna's quaking mouth. Helen's eyes flickered open, and 
confirmed that a dull redness pulsed though Lorna's closed eyelids; 
satisfied with Lorna's conversion she closed her eyes once more.

The door of the interview room creaked open and a young copper peered in.

"Sergeant, can I have a quick word?"

"God, what now? Back in a minute, George."

"Well?" asked Jack irritably, as soon as the door was shut behind him.

"Disturbance at the Imperial Hotel, Torbay. Some sort of sex maniac 
attacking staff, sarge!"

"What the hell is going on? Get Lorna out to it, she's trained for rape 
counselling."

"I would but I can't rouse her..."

"You can't find her, but I know she's on duty, come on pull your act 
together, Simms."

"Oh I know where she is, I just can't get her to reply." Simms answered.

The young policeman pointed down the corridor at the changing rooms.

"You are too ruddy polite! Watch and learn," the sergeant ordered.

"Umm, she's not alone sarge."

"I don't give a shit; an emergency call takes priority over anything!"

So saying, the willowy sergeant flung open the blue door and strode 
confidently into the changing room. Simms nipped along the corridor and 
listened intently, head cocked towards the door.

"What the F... GET DRESSED NOW! YOU ARE ON DUTY... Just, get dressed and then 
get to the Imperial. They have a sex maniac on the premises. Now you should 
be more than qualified to deal with it, from what I've just seen." The 
sergeant's muffled voice was clear enough, even through the closed door.

Simms jumped away from the door as it flew open. Jack Jones, pale at the 
best of times, emerged, ashen faced.

"Not a word, not one word, Simms. If you ever tell another living soul, I 
swear I will have you on a charge. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sarge, not a dickie bird, never," Simms replied.

"Good, excellent, continue as normal, Simms."

Jack smoothed his uniform down, and then he noticed how enhanced the bulge 
in his trouser front was. Strangely stiff legged, the sergeant walked back 
to the interview room.

"I said that would be all, Simms!"

"Yes sarge, sorry sarge."

Simms turned, and returned to the front counter. He grinned as Lorna and 
that WPC breezed past him on the way to the hotel disturbance. It wasn't 
just the memory of Jack Jones; it was the fact that they had been holding 
hands. A second later, a shame-faced woman arrived in front of the young 
policeman.

"I'm here to see Jeff Contadino, if I can?" Janet asked.

"Jeff Contadino, are you sure you are interested in a man?" Simms quipped.

"Yes I am!" Janet replied.

Something in her cold blue-grey eyes told Simms to take it easy on the 
comedy.

"If you would like to take a seat, I will ask for you, Ma'am," Simms 
replied.

Simms shrugged and walked back towards the interview rooms, `now Jack's 
going to love this,' he thought.

Janet heard the word even though she was seated at the far end of reception, 
at the sound of the single word, her face took on a distinctly pink hue.

"WHAT!"


                 ----------------------------


Lalo woke with a start, what was that noise? No, it was not one noise; it 
was two, a police siren & a fire alarm. Panic broke out in her fuddled mind, 
`Shit, the hotel's on fire!'

"Mum, Cath, wake up, the hotel's on fire!" Lalo shouted.

The three of them grabbed some clothes and dashed for the door. The corridor 
was packed with fearful women in various states of dress. Margit was there, 
she rose up to her full height and took command.

"Are we all here? Sound off, come on sound off now!" Margit's voice boomed.

The air filled with names, Margit counted, reviewed and then frowned.

"Rachael's missing... I have a bad feeling about this. Spread out, find her, 
find her now!"

Maldea turned to rush off, but before she could move, Lalo caught her arm. 
Lalo gazed deeply into Maldea's eyes; her voice was unusually cold when she 
spoke.

"Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell."

"More Shakespeare, Lalo? What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"You will see, soon you shall lead us," Lalo said, flatly.

"What, me lead? What, Lalo?"

"Nothing Mum, I don't know."

Margit dashed past them tearing towards the stairs.

"Come on, we have got to find Rachael and get out of here. NOW!"

Shocked into action, Maldea and Lalo followed Margit to the stairs.

Margit threw the fire door wide open and plunged into the stairwell.

The cold scream froze Maldea's and Lalo's blood. They pushed the door open 
desperate to help their leader. Mother and daughter stopped dead, Margit was 
staggering around on the landing below the first flight of steps. A snapped 
broom handle protruded through her back, she staggered and kicked over the 
metal bucket the broom had been propped up in. Soapy water and blood mixed 
on the shiny concrete landing. Margit slipped, and toppled down the next 
flight of stairs.

Her body twisted in the air, and she slammed down back first, onto the next 
landing down. The broom shaft ripped through Margit's sternum, her piercing 
scream rent the still dusty air. Lalo looked long and hard at Maldea. There 
could be no doubt, Margit was dead.

                    -----------------------

____________________________________________________________________

Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub February 2005
____________________________________________________________________
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my only
payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or server,
other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION of the
author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story, provided the
warnings and copyright information is attached in full.

_________________________________________________________________
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