You venture through the stone hallways of the Mansion you’ve called home since boyhood. The red carpet was always soft underfoot, and the decorations of the Mansion were lavish in some combination of gothic and baroque. You weren’t quite sure which, but remembered enough to give an impressive-sounding tour when needed. Your mind wanders as you traverse the halls, considering you don’t need to consciously think about where you’re going. Your feet knew the way, as you’ve taken this very path almost every morning of your life as a servant of the Mistress. She would be hungry upon first awakening, and your duty was to be there.
The other servants of the Mansion were busy ensuring the entirety of the place was spotless. If the Mistress woke up to a dirty house, there would be hell to pay. The staff was mostly monstergirl, with the stray human here and there. The human’s official jobs were the same as any other servant, but the denizens of the Mansion knew that their true purpose was to keep the monsters fed and to keep morale up. Their other unofficial purpose was to cement the Mistress’ status as a high-class Noble of the Demon Realm. Not many demons could afford to keep human servants, but the Mistress felt it befitting her station. She did love showing them off to other visiting nobility.
You are roused back from your musing as you reach the Master Bedroom. The tall, ornately-carved oak doors were heavy, but you press your way inside and stand in the same spot you’ve stood in countless times. Three paces inside. Enough to close the door behind you, but not close enough as to purvey an air of over-familiarity. You stand with your spine straight up, it was improper to slouch. Your hands were clasped in front of you, your head bent down in a gesture of servitude.
Carmen Delacroix was a breathtaking sight as usual. Nothing she did was without an air of grace and poise, which included the way she slept. She wore a thin, red silk peignoir that hugged her curves and complimented her pale skin. She lay flat on her back, her arms over her stomach and her feet close together. Her hands clasped the stem of a single black rose, the petals of which rested on her voluptuous bosom. Mistress’ chest had often caused you to wonder if she had holstaurus blood somewhere in her ancestry.
Her silver hair was splayed out on the bedside, and your Mistress looked like a corpse at her own wake. There were no windows, but the sun outside had just vanished behind the horizon to give way to the darkness of night. You knew this because your Mistress opened her eyes. It was a sharp motion. Mistress was never groggy or slow to wake. While your human tendencies often caused your mind to only slowly relinquish the comfort of sleep, it seems vampires did not share in any morning grogginess. No. Mistress seemed to be thrust into the waking world with the sharpness of someone who had just been doused with ice water.
Still, perhaps that was the only sharpness in it, as Mistress Delacroix blinked a few times before slowly sitting up. “Ah, and so begins another lovely evening.” she says before stretching in a way that made you worry for your Mistress’ modesty. It seemed her ample cleavage might break free of it’s thin silk prison. Mistress Carmen, as true to her nature as a monster, seemed to forgo undergarments. ‘Too constraining. It’s much more comfortable without them.’ Mistress had always said. Part of you could see the truth in the statement, though another part of you always suspected that it was a way to get your blood flowing. Indeed, her near-nude sleepwear coupled with the graceful, yet alluringly salacious way she stretched in the mornings ensured that you soon felt a familiar heightening in your pants.
“Good morning, Mistress. I trust your sleep was restful.” you say in greeting to Lady Carmen.
“Oh, but of course.” She says airily, turning to grin at you toothily. “I slept like a corpse.” She gives a small giggle at her own little joke before holding her hand out and beckoning you forward with her fingers. You approach swiftly, as it would not do to make her wait. She swings her feet off of the bed before crossing her legs. “How many times have you come this morning?” she asks plainly.
“Once, Mistress.” you answer. Lying was not an option. “Kendra, I expect?” she asks, smiling as she hugs her knee and rocks a bit. You nod and answer yes.
“Oh, foo.” she says, blowing a bit of hair out of her face with a pouted lip. “Perhaps I should start punishing those who play with my things.”
“She is your food tester, Mistress. If she is overplaying her duties, I can speak with her to cease.” you answer.
“Pssh. That won’t be necessary.” she says. “I suppose a little sip of your soul in the morning doesn’t detract from my breakfast at any rate.” Her grin widens as she uncrosses her legs and stands up, her fangs prominent and perhaps more than a little predatory. “I drink from a different tap, after all.”
You nod, “As you say, Mistress.”
Carmen walks slowly around you before you feel her breasts pressing on your back. Her soft, cool hands rub the back of your neck as her breath causes the small hairs to rise on end. “Of course, you’d probably like it if I drank after that ghoul, wouldn’t you?” she whispers into your ear. Shivers run down your spine, and her touch sends pleasant waves down your nerves. Your blood rushes even more and your pants grow still tighter. “You’d love to stick your filthy human cock right in between my noble lips, wouldn’t you?” Her hands tickle your skin, causing you to shudder. She must be saturating your skin with her demon energy, because you find yourself short of breath at the tickle of her whispers on your ear. You give a sharp intake of breath and inhale the scent of her being so close, a soft melody of cinnamon and roses.
“The Noble Countess Delacroix, on her knees before you. My hands running along your most sensitive skin, my nails tickling the soft orbs below. Can you just imagine it? My tongue licking you clean… You want to paint my red lips white, don’t you? Oh, just think of it! How many times have you felt my tongue on your neck? You just ache to feel it run along your length, tasting you. I bet it tastes simply wretched, like the lowly human you are. Yet, you’d love nothing more than to fill my mouth until I loved it, correct? You’d like to just feed me your cock until you stain the inside of my mouth with your taste. Releasing your seed and rubbing your tip on my tongue until I couldn’t imagine anything tasting better…”
Your knees shook and you give an involuntary whimper. Your Mistress’ words and energy saturate your mind and body. You can only weakly comply when her hands tilt your head, and her tongue runs over your exposed vein. She leans in, and you only feel the barest scratch before your mind explodes into white-hot pleasure. There is no buildup in comparison to regular sex, even considering the monstrous nature of your other partners. You go from zero to light speed in an instant. From your body crying out for attention and release from the teasing, to a blinding fire erupting in your mind as your nerves surge with delicious agony. It lasts for what seems like an eternity, drowning in the blissful deluge as your Mistress drinks her fill.
It’s over almost too soon as you collapse, your body quivering with pleasurable aftershocks. As always, Carmen steps back to watch you writhe and recover. Her pants are almost as heavy as yours, her toothy grin was red and bemused. She licks the last traces of blood from her lips as her fingers wipe the corner of her mouth. She takes a deep breath, and then shudders with delight on the exhale.
“Delicious as always.” she says, kneeling down to run her fingers through your hair, her nails gently massaging your scalp. A shiver of dulled pleasure runs down your spine, but it is only a ghost feeling compared to the assault your senses just endured. You continue to catch your breath. “I am…” pant, “happy you are pleased, Mistress.” you manage to say as you regain control of your facilities. You wearily get to your feet.
The first couple of times the Mistress fed from you, that you can remember, you recall being mortified. Certain you were going to die from bleeding out, you clutched at your neck in hopes of buying yourself time. Since then, you’ve realized that your Mistress may be a vampire, but she would never directly cause you harm from feeding. Whether it was a vampire trick, demonic magic, or just that her saliva had healing properties, you knew that after her feeding, there would be no trace of blood or injury on your vulnerable neck. The bite would have healed, and Mistress Carmen would always lick away any residual drops. She could not abide waste.
Your musings and recovery are interrupted by the voice of your vampiric Mistress. “Now, if you would be a dear, lay out my black dress for the evening and draw my bath.”
You do as you are bid, laying out a modestly cut black dress and then move to the adjoining bathroom while the Mistress set about to brushing her hair as part of her morning routine. Normally you’d offer to help her, and she would refuse. She always said that it would be a thorough breach in etiquette to have such familiar contact with a lowly human. It wasn’t proper or becoming of a lady. Mistress Delacroix was a picture example of the prideful vice that seemed to plague vampires as a race. Still, she was your Mistress, and she was good to you. You could take a bit of pride from her considering she gave you a home, food, and a purpose.
You don’t go through the motions of offering further services today because she did tell you to draw her bath. So, you move purposefully into the bathroom and start to run the tap on the large stone basin. The walls featured aqueducts carved inside of them, and a water elemental was bound to the Mansion to allow water to flow to the different rooms. A fire elemental was bound to the aqueducts to heat them accordingly. It was not long before the bath was full of steaming water, and you moved to place the Mistress’ favorite scents and oils beside the bath before moving back into the bedroom. “The bath is drawn and your clothes laid out, Mistress.”
The vampire, engrossed in her morning routine to ensure she looked as good as she felt befitted her station, waves you off distractedly. She never allowed herself to be viewed by anyone but you before her routine was finished. Presentation was everything, she said. Some monsters might take pride in showing up to a meeting or gathering covered in the fluids of their latest human companions, but it was with an air of disapproval and vanity that Mistress Delacroix told you that such types did not really deserve to be called Nobles. She often harped on a time before such sights were commonplace, back when monsters and demons took pride in certain things instead of rolling in depravity as happily as pigs rolling in muck. Mistress Carmen often had strong opinions of things in this day and age compared to what came before.
You often kept your opinions on the matter to yourself.
“Thank you, my loyal servant.” she said dismissively. “I want you to inform the others to ensure that the Mansion is in tip top shape by tomorrow night. It seems I have been chosen to host a welcome dinner for some nobles visiting the Capitol from the other side of the world. I trust you will handle the preparations?”
You nod without hesitation. “Of course, Mistress. I will make the arrangements.” Mistress Carmen turned around in her chair to smile warmly at you. “Thank you, then. I am placing my faith that the dinner will go off without a hitch. Now, off you go. I can’t have a human seeing me disrobed.”
“As you say, Mistress.” you say. With a deep bow, you turn and leave your Mistress to her beauty regimen and bath. You had preparations to make.