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From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 11 of 50 [Yotna El'toub] (FF, MC)
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Date: Mon, 11 Apr 2005 15:10:04 -0400
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             {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 11 of 50
                [Yotna El'toub] (FF, 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 in to the hands of minors.
____________________________________________________________________

Author's note: from this point on there will be increasing referencing to 
the events of Vampyre Nights. If you have not yet read it, please do so, as 
it will help your understanding of the events to follow.
____________________________________________________________________



Chapter eleven: The Instruments of Darkness


Margit's eyes flickered open; her hands immediately flew to her damaged 
chest. Her desperate fingers confirmed she was uninjured; she also 
discovered she was naked. Confused and alone in total darkness, she started 
to panic. But wait, there was a patch of brightness in front of her. The 
grey patch slowly expanded. Margit could see it clearly now, the clouds; she 
was travelling towards a group of dense grey clouds.

Her body was swallowed by the dank, suffocating blanket. She was more 
certain now, she was flying, not falling, and she found she could control 
her speed of descent. Margit wanted to get out of the cloud bank, and away 
from its claustrophobic embrace. She steepened her angle of descent and 
plummeted downwards.

Soon the cloud cleared, and Margit could see a rural landscape spread out 
below her. She could not immediately identify it but this was not England, 
no, below her lay somewhere on mainland Europe. Her body responded to the 
cool breeze sweeping over it. Her pale skin puckered into goosebumps, and 
her nipples formed into stiffened peaks. She slowed to gaze at the ploughed 
fields before her. Then away, at breakneck speeds, now swooping over virgin 
forest and up, up into the higher lands. She circled an unknown castle, 
before descending to plunge through the open gates. Her feet touched down on 
the cobbled courtyard.

Margit looked at the castle in awe, it was clearly centuries old but looked 
to be in pristine condition. Her eyes scanned the walls of the castle and 
settled on the carved stone inscription above the studded oaken doors. 
Margit instantly recognised the symbol; it came from the mirror, one of the 
symbols on its edge. A feeling of unease settled on her, and then it 
occurred to her: she wasn't breathing, why wasn't she breathing? Unsteadily, 
her legs carried her forwards, like a zombie, she staggered towards the 
fearful door. Clumsily, her legs took her unwilling body on a very unwanted 
journey.

Her pale hands rose and forced the doors apart. A splendid hallway with a 
sweeping staircase stood before her. From nowhere, a woman materialised 
before Margit's incredulous eyes. She was almost indescribable in 
appearance, her beauty astounding. Margit felt in awe of the spectre, as if 
she were in the presence of royalty. The noble voice rang out filling the 
hallway with rich tones.

"Welcome, novice, into the presence of Erzsébet Bathory, council member of 
the Wampyr high command. Fear for your immortality, my will rules supreme."

Margit felt her body pushed down into a supplicant pose.

When she looked up, another woman of equal beauty had appeared.

"This is my consort, Darvulia, she will be your guide to the ways of the 
Wampyr; heed her well!"

Margit felt her head nod in deference to Darvulia, the consort smiled back, 
her approval thrilled Margit to her core.

"Before you begin your new life, I have a question for you. I have a 
decision to make; only you can help me make my mind up. Do you think Maldea 
is to be trusted?"

Margit spluttered, as a blast of air shot into her empty, still lungs. She 
started to breathe once again.

"I-I I think so, she was drained by us all, she must be converted," Margit 
replied.

"Do not think, feel. Let your vampyre emotions guide you in this. They will 
not fail you; you are of true heart," Erzsébet advised.

Margit concentrated and listened to her impure soul.

"No, she is strong, she is not to be trusted," Margit replied.

"I thought not, I know of her strength, as do others here."

"Others?"

"You are here to learn, not question. Understand, or feel my wrath!" 
Erzsébet warned.

Margit closed her eyes and dropped her head, she was, after all, learning.

"Follow me, Margit, for there is much to understand," Darvulia spoke 
quietly.

Margit walked, now willingly, behind the swaying silk clad form. Her hearing 
picked up every swish of the gossamer fabric, with the undertone of 
Darvulia's slow, sensuous heartbeat. Hypnotically allured, she followed 
Darvulia through a low vaulted passageway.

"Observe the windows; these are the punishment cells, the price of failure 
is high," whispered Darvulia.

Margit's eyes peered into the darkness of the first window; slowly her eyes 
accommodated to the dim light. A girl of no more than seventeen summers sat 
peacefully smiling. Her scowling partner languidly applied a red hot iron 
first to one raw nipple, and then to the other. The girl's face remained a 
picture of absolute bliss.

"Her punishment is to endure the agony, but never to be able to express it," 
Darvulia cooed.

Darvulia moved closer to Margit, wisps of her fine hair fell on to Margit's 
bare shoulder, every strand triggering a micro-orgasm in the skin cells they 
caressed. Margit wandered on, fearful of the next perverted tableaux.

Margit could not resist the draw of the spectacle however, and she gazed 
through the next window. Her eyes fell upon a back of such beauty, such 
perfection that her senses soared; even the shaved head couldn't detract 
from the desirability of this woman. The woman gazed long and hard into a 
darkened full length mirror, but slowly she turned to face Margit. If the 
back had been perfection, then the front was an inverse reflection, an 
abomination of sores, pustules and weeping tumours. Margit felt her vomit 
rise to her throat and the tears pool in her eyes. Then Darvulia spoke.

"Mika, join me, your training is over."

The dishevelled being shambled to the window. The glass dissolved, and 
unsteadily, the monstrosity stepped over the sill. Margit recoiled in 
disgust, but as soon as one misshapen foot touched the floor of the passage, 
a remarkable transformation took place.

The blond hair on Mika's head grew once again, and cascaded down onto her 
firm shoulders. From these sprung a long smooth neck that led to the most 
exquisite finely detailed face. The high cheekbones were topped with dark 
violet eyes, gracing sockets deep with mystery. A short upturned nose was 
placed above a wide sensual mouth. Mika stirred and her soft hands fell to 
reveal small plump breasts tipped with honeyed, erect nipples. At her groin 
was a fine rounded mound, covered with downy blond fluff. The tops of the 
thighs were sculpted and firm, the gap where they joined revealed a fine 
pair of full lush labia. Mika smiled wickedly at Margit.

At once, Margit felt her labia and upper thighs dampen with warm rivulets of 
desire. Trembling she reached a hand forward to touch the shimmering tanned 
skin.

"No, this is not for you, Margit. This is for you," said Darvulia.

Darvulia extended an elegant arm, and indicated Mika's empty cell.
As much as Margit wished to scream her defiance, the words would not come. 
As little as she wished to move, her feet ignored her, and with a calmness 
that betrayed her fear, she stepped over the sill and into the confined 
space.

"Now you will learn, your training begins. It may take a year or two, or a 
century or two. But you will learn," Darvulia promised.

With a casual wave of Darvulia's arm, the glass reformed. Margit stumbled 
towards the mirror. As she reached it, her screams filled the castle.

"Mika, Erzsébet has a task for you, come join us."

Mika and Darvulia walked steadily away from the pitiful cries, further into 
the castle. Mika paused once, staring long and hard into the cell beside 
hers. A gorgeous blonde girl sat astride her lover's face, sweat cascading 
off her lean body as she desperately ground her groin down onto her lover's 
bruised lips. Her hands explored the body beneath her with experienced 
grace, and the skin beneath them trembled as if on the cusp of orgasm. She 
moved forwards as the fingers of her right hand contracted into a fist, and 
then she thrust it savagely between the splayed legs of her gasping lover.

"Joyce and Claudie are still here? They were here when I arrived, how long 
ago was that?" Mika asked.

"15 human years ago, almost 16 now," replied Darvulia.

"A long time, but I still don't see that as training. What I had was 
punishment. Punishment teaches, that is enjoyment -- how will they learn?"

"As you are newly emerged, I will forgive you this one question. But be 
warned, Erzsébet would not. The answer is they have no pleasure, neither of 
them has had pleasure for 15 long years."

"They haven't come for 15 years," Mika gasped, "excellent!"

Mika grinned lasciviously, and the free Wampyrs walked side-by-side onwards 
to meet with their dark mistress.

Darvulia entered the bed chamber first; she nodded to her mistress and 
announced Mika.

"Refreshed from her training, I am sure she will not fail you again, 
Erzsébet."

Erzsébet shifted little from her reclining pose, as she snarled, "Bring her 
before me!"

Head bowed, Mika was led into Erzsébet's presence.

"Fallen one, you have a chance to redeem yourself. But be warned; fail me 
this time and you will go to the pit of banishment. To inspire you in your 
mission I will give you a taste of the pit," Erzsébet growled.

The room around Mika vanished, and she was immersed in a foul liquid. 
Against her skin, she could feel the tortured rubbing of disarticulated 
female organs. A wet vulva, its clitoris savagely erect, slimed its way 
across her forehead. Pointed nipples butted against her eyes, desperate for 
some real human contact. But worse than the barrage of hideously frustrated 
body parts, was the sound; it was more than a sound, a cacophony of tortured 
female souls, crying for their lost humanity. The voices echoed and bounced 
around Mika.

"We must escape my love, we can be free, I know we can. My love, my love, 
NO!"

"Forget it, Gina, we're dead meat, come here, let's at least go out in some 
style!"

"Sonja... Csejthe... Sonja!"

"Play time."

"Play time."

"Play time."

Mika was filled with the vertigo of desire, and lost in the pit of the 
living dead.

Suddenly it was all gone, and Mika once more stood, cowering before her 
mistress.

"So now you know the eternity that awaits you, should you fail me again? 
Your task is to return to the moral plane. Once there you will join, and 
lead a group of women known as "Les Bitches". You will protect the follower 
known as Lalo, for she is our salvation. Lalo is the spawn of one called 
Maldea," raged Erzsébet.

Mika's head jerked up, her violet eyes flashed with unconcealed venom.

"Maldea!"

"Yes, the meddlesome one, but do not be tempted to settle old scores. The 
future of the race depends upon protecting Lalo. That is your task."

"But what if she should interfere again?" asked Mika.

"Then you may personally banish her, my slave," Erzsébet smiled.

"I have one demand, fulfil it now or return me to the pit!"

"A demand!" Erzsébet thundered, "You dare to demand, fallen one."

The very walls of the castle reverberated with unspent rage.

"I wish Lesley to be my consort. She betrayed me, cursed my manhood and cast 
me to this fate. I have pleasure to gain in her discomfort, and discomfort 
she shall truly know," said Mika.

"Ah, the love that is known as hatred, yes, yes, this pleases me. You have 
been trained well. Lesley and Mika will journey together once more," 
Erzsébet crooned.

"Darvulia, find and release Lesley, for this is my command!"


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


Janet and Leanne walked into the Police Station together; they ignored the 
stares from behind the desk.

"It's all right Sergeant, we aren't going to fight in your station," said 
Leanne.

"Pleased to hear it ladies, how may I assist you?"

"We would like to speak with Jeff, or rather, I would like to speak with 
Jeff," Leanne replied.

"You wanted to tear him limb from limb last time you were here, why the 
change of heart?"

"I have had time to talk to Janet, I'm pretty sure Jeff is innocent, but he 
may be the only way I can find my Cath. Now you wouldn't begrudge me that 
would you?" Leanne smiled.

"We are pursuing our own enquiries you know. We will find Cath and the 
others."

"I just want to help if I can, I know Jeff and the area, he may speak to 
me," Leanne pleaded.

"Hmm, I should really ask, but I can't see a problem. Just make it quick 
before the inspectors get back," replied the Sergeant.

Leanne leant across the desk and planted a soft kiss on the Sergeant's pale 
cheek.

"Humph, that will be enough of that, Mrs Hebbert," said the Sergeant as his 
colour shifted a couple of shades towards pink.

"Please take a seat, Miss, while I take Mrs Hebbert through," he mumbled.

Janet sat down besides an odd looking couple and waited. She couldn't help 
but hear their conversation, it was hardly hushed.

"I tell you I know her, she is Cath's Mum, how come she gets special 
treatment, and I sit and wait?"

"Look, I'm sure they are doing their best, they are professionals you know," 
the man replied.

"Sod it, Fizz, you would say that, you all club together!"

"Please calm down, this isn't helping us find Rachael, now is it?"

The distinguished looking man passed a clean handkerchief to the woman, who 
wiped her eyes and then blew her nose noisily.

Janet wandered back up to the desk, and smiled at the young constable.

"Excuse me, can I use the toilet?"

"Yeah, sure you know the way," he grinned widely.

Janet said nothing; she just winked and strode off down the corridor, 
wiggling her hips. She walked straight past the changing rooms and up to the 
rear door. She unbolted the door and carefully pulled the bar back into its 
closed position. She smiled at her ingenuity and walked back to the 
reception area, ready to execute part two of the plan.

"God, I feel hot," Janet exclaimed.

In front of the incredulous police and visitors, Janet started disrobing 
with a vengeance. By the time her breasts were exposed to all, the young 
constable was in a panic. He hurtled down the corridor, and burst into the 
interview room.

"Sarge, Sarge, you aren't going to believe this!"

"Oh gawd, what now..." the sergeant vaulted out of the tubular chair and 
followed the young copper. The room door was left swinging open.

By the time the sergeant had reach the foyer, the impromptu striptease was 
over, and the stripper had fled. The policeman looked at the sergeant, the 
sergeant blinked at the policeman.

"Shit, we have been had!" said the young copper.

At twice the speed the pair had left it, they retuned to the interview room. 
The empty interview room.


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



Leanne drove away at break neck speed, leaving Jeff and Janet to embrace 
each other as best they could, in the back of the jolting Ford Escort. 
Leanne's eyes flickered backwards and forwards to the rear view mirror, that 
ruddy Mini seemed to be following her.

"Take it easy, Leanne, we could lose teeth here," said Janet, breaking from 
her kiss with Jeff.

"I'd rather lose that black Mini," said Leanne.

Jeff swung around to look through the rear window.

"That's not the police!" said Jeff.

"I don't care who it is. They are following us, and I wish the hell they 
wouldn't."

The next time Leanne's eyes flashed back to the mirror, the Mini had gone; 
at last she relaxed and eased her foot off the accelerator. Even so, the 
Escort screeched around the bend, and then stood on its nose in a precise 
emergency stop. Jeff cursed loudly as he clambered back on to the rear seat. 
He glared towards Leanne, as she sat petrified staring at the black Mini 
blocking the road in front of her. The passenger in the Mini unfurled 
himself, swung open the door and marched up to Leanne's half open window.

"Sorry about that, are you all right Mrs Hebbert?"

"Dr Fazakerly? What the hell, who is driving? That maniac almost caused a 
serious accident!" said Leanne.

"Ah, that would be Jolene, but we had to stop you. We really do need to talk 
to you all."

"Jolene Savage, since when have you and Jolene been an item?"

"Umm, it's quite recent actually, charming lady though. Look if we can drive 
up to the Red Bull, will you promise to meet us there, so we can talk about 
this disappearance thing?"

Leanne turned her head and looked hard at both Janet and Jeff. In unison, 
they dumbly nodded.

"OK, lead on McDuff, but get that nutter Jolene to drive just this side of 
insanity, will you,"

"Will do, will do," Dr Fazakerly smiled.

Leanne addressed Jeff as Dr Fazakerly walked back to the Mini.

"You know, my Cath was learning some lines recently, god they seem 
appropriate now. The instruments of darkness..." Leanne stumbled.

"...tell us truths," Jeff finished, "Shakespeare, I think.

Leanne just nodded and drove on.


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


____________________________________________________________________
Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub March 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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