A mortal woman walks willingly into a manor where centuries are measured in bites, orgasms, and rivers of blood.
Extreme vampire erotica • blood play • centuries of depravity • total submission • ritual orgies • immortality through surrender • 18+
Eveline arrived at dusk in a black carriage that had no driver. Twelve pale figures waited on the grand staircase, wine-red eyes glowing. They did not speak; they simply opened the doors and let the scent of roses, blood, and centuries of sex roll over her like a tide. She stepped inside knowing she would never see sunrise again.
He was marble and midnight, cock already hard beneath velvet. He took her against the entrance hall mirror, fangs sinking into her throat at the exact moment he thrust inside. Each pull of blood made her cunt clench harder around him until she came screaming, vision flashing white, his seed and her blood mingling on the ancient floor.
Seraphine made her crawl naked through a corridor lined with mirrors that showed every angle of her body being used for the last three hundred years. While Eveline watched herself fucked from behind in a hundred reflections, Seraphine drank from her breast and slid a gloved hand into her cunt up to the wrist, whispering, “You will beg to stay forever.”
Bound spread-eagle on the altar while twelve tongues and twelve cocks worshipped and violated her for six straight hours, cum and blood anointing her like holy oil.
Two identical vampires who only spoke in rhymes took her apart in a room full of hourglasses, fucking her until time lost meaning.
Books bound in human skin opened themselves to pages of living orgies; she was pressed between shelves while phantom lovers from every century had their turn.
A ball where masks were made of still-warm faces and every dance ended with someone drained on the ballroom floor.
Ghost-wives of the House, still mad with lust, chained and desperate, used her body for one final night of pleasure before dissolving into red mist.
All of them at once — mouths, cocks, cunts, claws — for twelve unbroken hours in the grand throne room while chandeliers dripped wax and blood.
They drained her to the brink of death, then fed her from twelve wrists at once. She died climaxing and woke immortal, hungry, insatiable.
Her first taste of hot, living blood while being fucked mid-air above the moonlit forest by Cassian and Seraphine together.
Centuries later, Eveline sits at the head of the table, wearing a crown of preserved hearts. New mortals arrive each decade. She smiles, fangs gleaming, and the doors close behind them forever.
The House is never empty.
The night is never long enough.