Make the Streets Run Vampire Red - Vampire Erotica Stories Read online

  Make the Streets Run Vampire Red - Vampire Erotica Stories

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE : THIS IS HOLLYWOOD

  CHAPTER TWO : BELLADONNA IN THE ROSE CITY

  CHAPTER THREE : WIDE-EYED IN THE DARK

  CHAPTER FOUR : BELLADONNA IN HOLLYWOODLAND

  CHAPTER FIVE - A FIRE INSIDE

  CHAPTER SIX - SOME OF MY BLOOD

  Make the Streets Run Vampire Red

  Vampire Erotica Stories

  Set in the novel world of the 'Vampire Vintage' novel series

  by Alex Severin

  Copyright 2008 Alex Severin

  Smashwords Edition

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  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  The Birth of Lord Ruthven

  Some of Your Gothic Blood

  Sucker Club, Soho, LONDON, W1

  Fuckin' Hardcore

  Drain the Blood

  Bloody Lovers

  Secret Story Online :

  Go to www.AlexSeverin.com/FlameWar

  Excerpt - Vampire Vintage Book One :

  Belladonna in Hollywood

  BONUS STORY 1 : Modification of a Stupid Cunt

  BONUS STORY 2 : Charlotte's Attic

  BONUS STORY 3 : Little Prick

  BONUS STORY 4 : The Blair

  THE BIRTH OF LORD RUTHVEN

  +CruxShadow666+ sat in the darkness of his lounge, bathed in the glow of his computer screen.

  It was a sickness.

  An obsession.

  His passion.

  Vampires.

  He would endlessly browse vampire websites and blogs. He would lurk in chat rooms and on forums and message-boards. He would observe, read, and invariably sneer at the webmaster or blogger or poster. He had always considered himself to be superior to the other surfers and webmasters and site members who frequented the same vampire and bloodfetish sites as he. He felt that there was something a little off about them, something not quite right. To him they were nothing but poseurs, pretenders. They were role players in Halloween costumes.

  But he was different.

  He was the genuine article.

  He was a blood-drinker.

  A vampire.

  “Fop bastard. Prancing around calling your self The Brat Prince or Le-fucking-stat. You wish. Define vampire. Look it up. Doesn't say fifteen year old goth-boi with too much black eyeliner and a Stephenie Meyer fan club membership. Dick. How can you be a vampire and not drink blood? Sparkly twat,” he spat the words from his lips as if they were rancid morsels, spittle raining onto the LCD monitor.

  +CruxShadow666+ would rant and rave at his computer screen, punctuate his words by rapping his knuckles on his desk. He would sit there, red faced with rage, itching to rip into the source of his ire. He would even go as far as typing a detailed response, pounding so hard on the keyboard his fingers would ache. But then he would delete it, erase what he had written, resist posting it. Just the act of writing the response, even without his current nemesis seeing it, would be enough to sate him for a while, be enough to get the latest outrage purged from his system. Usually.

  These days, he mostly lurked, didn't take part in the discussions he ran across on the forums or social networks. Even he, who once thrived on the conflicts he could instigate with just about anybody, had grown tired of his own troll behavior and constantly causing havoc. On the rare occasion he posted anywhere now, a flame war would inevitably erupt. Unfortunately, his reputation preceded him onto many sites.

  Somebody would know of him from elsewhere and relay comments he'd made about most vampire enthusiasts being role players, or fakes or wannabes. Some of the more net savvy had posted links to cached pages of forum posts by +CruxShadow666+ or posted a screen-shots of them. The moderators of some of the more earnest communities did not appreciate his comments. And he'd be banned or asked to leave. Sometimes he'd even play nice for a while, ignore the comments that infuriated him. But eventually, he'd flame somebody, rant and rave at them and end up banned anyway. Being part of the community and seeming to fit in would only delay the inevitable.

  But most of his online time was consumed by searching for something – the ultimate vampire story. He would plow his way through hundreds of pages of search engine results and never tire of his quest, no matter how many bad Anne Rice clones he happened across. He'd sit through them all – the bad goth poetry, the Interview with the Vampire fan fics, the Edward/Jacob slash fiction, the Dracula pastiches, the angst-ridden Poe-a-likes, the hardly literary and the barely literate. Sometimes, it seemed as if he was looking for the Holy Grail – there was no hard evidence that it existed but he believed that it did exist.

  Like the devoutly religious, he had faith.

  He knew that he would find what he was looking for. Someday.

  There has to be somebody. There has to be. I know it's there. “Vampire Stories” in quotes – in quotes - throws up like 273,000 results on Googleplex alone. In quotes! Christ. I dunno. Maybe I'm just too hard to please.

  His searches were always fruitless. Although he found many stories online to enjoy - and there were several writers whose work he kept track of - he could never find that one brilliant-cut diamond amongst so much faceted glass he so eagerly sought. Nothing had ever made him feel the way he wanted to feel.

  It would be unmistakable – first he would feel a creeping sensation in the base of his neck, like delicate fingers running through his hair. His spine would tingle with excitement and his left eye would twitch as it always did when he was in an emotional or agitated state. As the words flowed into him he would feel the skin on his cock tighten as his loins filled with precious blood. He would not be able to stop himself from caressing it as it grew even harder. He would not be able to resist releasing it from its confines when he was certain he had found it.

  He would know, within seconds, when he had found the one.

  He knew that his body would instantly react when he found what he was looking for.

  In all the years he had searched for it, not one of the books or stories he had devoured in his quest had even come close to sating him, satisfying the vampiric hunger inside him.

  +CruxShadow666+ sighed out his lung capacity in a steady stream then yawned. His arse was numb. He'd not moved from his chair for hours and thought that if he didn't do so soon he might get a thrombosis. His right thumb hurt from clicking on link after link and his fingers where stiff from endlessly moving the trackball in his mouse.

  scroll

  click

  read

  scroll

  click

  read

  Hit the X at the top right of the window.

  He sighed again, closed the window and opened another link to yet another vampire site.

  “Just one more.”

  As the page began to load, +CruxShadow666+'s face was blank. He held absolutely no hope of ever finding what he was looking for.

  His faith was faltering.

  http://www.LilyTransyl.com

  click

  A picture loaded and his eyes widened.

  Something stirred deep within. Instantly, the hairs stoo
d up on the back of his neck as something awakened inside him.

  He knew she was the one.

  Something told him his search was over. She would give him what he needed, what he craved, what he had yearned for all these years.

  He knew, even before reading a word, that Lily Transyl would make him come harder than he had ever imagined.

  His breath came in short gasps as his eyes lingered on her image.

  “Lily Transyl,” he whispered to the darkness of the room.

  “You're the one.”

  His mouth dried and he found it hard to swallow. His palms were wet with sweat. He clicked on the short stories link on the site nav. The page loaded and he perused the story titles. One in particular caught his eye and he clicked the link.

  Lord Ruthven's Bloody Love.

  A short note at the top of the story page stated that a novel, Vampire Red had been born from this short story and was due for mass market publication very soon.

  +CruxShadow666+ began to read.

  He was perched on the edge of his seat, his breathing rapid, muscles taut as he read. Soon, the throb between his legs became unbearable, his cock rigid and pressed hard against the hot leather of his trousers. He fumbled frantically to pull them down but his zipper was stuck and the material adhered to the excited sweat on his skin. He huffed and puffed, panted, swearing at his uncooperative pants and vowing to kill them if they did not comply.

  He was entranced by Lily Transyl's prose; it was visceral and violent, it was raw and yet it was beautiful, like poetry. Her words seemed to flow fluidly off the screen, like blood, and seep into his veins, fixing him like an addict. He tightened his grip around the base of his cock and fought to stop himself from coming too fast. But it was useless. He was so overwhelmed by Lily's words that he shot his load on the underside of his desk. He swore at himself. It had never happened to him before. He was sure it would never happen to him again. He put it down to being awe-struck and over-whelmed.

  He lay back in his chair, spent, gasping for breath; he felt the sweat trickling through the hairs on his legs and a single drop running down the crack of his ass. The remnants of his eager cum dripped back onto the black leather of his seat as he stared at the screen, enthralled, unbelieving.

  Finally, he had found it.

  Finally, he had found her.

  Soon there would be an entire book of her beautiful, brutal words, an entire book of this exquisite vampire erotica to lose himself in, a book he knew he would cherish forever.

  There was somebody else like him. She understood – that was clear to him. She would understand how he felt. She was for real. Genuine. She was the real deal – just like him.

  He had to contact her. He had to let her know what she had done for him, what she had done to him. He had to let her know about the power of her words, tell her how her dark erotica had made him feel. He wanted her to know that her blood red prose had left him breathless and aching for more.

  He was euphoric as he typed his fan-boy e-mail to Lily Transyl. He hammered on the keyboard like a mad composer at his piano, occasionally lifting his arse off the seat as his body was wracked with excited spasms. +CruxShadow666+ was a man possessed. He was beside himself. Delirious.

  He was happy.

  His head filled with visions left behind after reading her prose, visions bathed in wet red, visions of sanguine sex and slaughter, visions of torn flesh and veins laid bare by the exquisite stab of snow-white fangs.

  +CruxShadow666+ unconsciously licked his lips as if cleaning them of traces of blood. He flicked his tongue over his inadequate incisors and knew he would have to Googleplex for a pair of vampire fangs. They'd have to be custom fangs though; he would never buy a pair of the mass-produced costume fangs all the faux-vamps ran around wearing.

  He clicked his e-mail signature link and his sig line appeared...

  With Darkest Regards...

  +CruxShadow666+

  He hesitated, then backspaced, changed his salutation to...

  With Bloody Love...

  But he paused again, cursor hovering over the send button. He clicked on edit signature. He changed With Darkest Regards to With Bloody Love. And then he erased his name, backspaced and murdered his own online persona.

  That wasn't who he was anymore. He was changed now. He was new. Tonight he had been born again. He had become somebody else. Some thing else.

  He felt it begin as soon as he read the Lily Transyl story, felt the very start of his own metamorphosis. All these years he had been inside a chrysalis, quietly mutating and changing, from the inside out.

  And now that long and painful transformation was almost complete.

  He knew that Lily Transyl was writing about the man he would become, the man – the vampire – she wanted him to be. It was all so clear to him. He could feel it.

  He edited his signature.

  With Bloody Love...

  Lord Ruthven.

  +CruxShadow666+ was dead.

  Lord Ruthven had just been born.

  SOME OF YOUR GOTHIC BLOOD

  This is why i do this job man - knee deep in goth pussy these bitches are gagging for it.

  Edward Alex Crowe loved attending conventions. He'd always find a special kind of fucked up fan here, a special kind of girl or guy who would bend over backward to get next to him. He had no doubt they'd eat his shit if he told them to.

  It amazed him how many people traveled so far and wide just to breathe the same air as him. One woman, a housewife from the South had lied to her husband and told him she'd gone on a Thelma & Louise-style road trip with a girlfriend. He'd have gone insane if he'd known she had come here to see him. In the midst of intimate, passionate moments she'd been known to call out the actor's name instead of oh god earl fuck me fuck me fuck me!

  He felt the tiniest bit of sorrow for a few - he knew they were deluded enough to think that he would actually fuck them.

  The fuck you thinkin'? I'm Eddie Crowe. Don't do fat chicks or ugly cunts. Put your wet panties back on

  He would would think all sorts of nasty things about his fans as he grinned that sexy, irresistible grin that would make your Grandma remember where her clit is.

  He'd think all these nasty little things whilst smiling at them, whilst making their hearts melt and their knickers moist. He'd think these things while he kissed them sweetly on the cheek or let them touch him.

  Not if you were the last thing on earth with a pussy, darlin'

  All the while he was letting his touch linger on a bare shoulder or a little too far below the waist to be polite.

  These were the people who paid his salary. These were the ones who kept him in Cristal and first-grade South East Asian heroin. And he wasn't in the least bit grateful. He deserved it. He was Eddie Crowe.

  Just as boredom began to kick in and his sexy cheeky chappie grin threatened to slide off his lips, top-notch goth pussy walked in the room. X 3.

  They knew what they were there for, and the way they looked at Eddie, he knew what they were there for too. There was no mistaking it – the hunger in their eyes said it all.

  The three women were gothed up. Beautiful. All were raven-haired. One had a severe 1920s Louise Brooks bob, one had long, flowing spiral curls and the other had lethal looking Liberty spikes.

  They oozed up to Eddie, throwing looks so contemptuous at his less-than-glamorous companions that they moved away from Eddie without a word, without so much as a glance back at him. They slunk away, back to the dealer room where they were pimping self-published goth poetry chapbooks at an overpriced table they hadn't a hope of recovering the cost of.

  “Well,” Liberty spikes said, “where's your fucking room, Eddie. We haven't got all day.”

  Eddie shot his winning smile at the punky goth. Brazen as she was, confident as she was, he was sure he saw her tremble with desire when he looked at her.

  Heh I could make a bull dyke wet her fuckin' pants

  He eyed himself in the mirrored doors as th
ey waited for the elevator to open and carry them all to his penthouse suite for an evening of animalistic sex with no strings, no emotion and no guilt – just the kind of sex he liked. He fleetingly thought of how gorgeous all three of the women were, but spent

  much more time admiring his own reflection. His body, his face - his entire being - was perfection right down to the separated strands of shiny black hair that hung down in front of his face and made him peer moodily from behind them. They were a very important part of his look. He thought his neatly trimmed Van Dyck beard made him look like a hot Satan.

  Eddie Crowe really and truly thought he was the shit.

  But this wasn't going to be any ordinary night of stringless sex.

  These three gothic goddesses wanted something more from Eddie Crowe other than raw, animal fucking. They wanted something else from him – The Goth Star – but it wasn't his body, it wasn't risky impregnation, infamy and child support. It wasn't just his body they were after. And it wasn't money. They wanted what was inside him.

  In a mass fumble of rubber, fishnet, and lace, the fan-girls frantically undressed. The three of them fought over Crowe's cock, although there was something else they were all interested in. But, they would be insane if they passed up the opportunity to to fuck the greatest Goth Star in the Universe's brains out whilst they were on their mission. That would just be so lame thought Louise Brooks as she pondered it.

  Fucking Eddie Crowe would mean maximum goth points. They'd be legends.

  All Eddie had to do was lie back and think to himself how privileged they were that he was going to allow them to suck his exquisite cock.

  Eddie stretched himself out on the bed, lay back and closed his eyes.