Brides of Van Helsing

Aleera needed a drink to steady her nerves and so she hurried to the wine cellar. She simply had to calm her overwrought mind. Dipping down into the subterranean vaults that also held the castle’s dungeons and larders, she grabbed a bottle of wine at random, smashed open its neck, and drank.

Dracula was dead. The humans—Van Helsing and his concubine, Anna Valerious—had slain him. It came as small comfort that her sisters were still alive, or that Van Helsing was condemned to live as a werewolf, the cure smashed to shards of glass.

Aleera had waited generations to be a mother and now her children were gone. Moreover, she had no master. Her own power was great, as was that of Marishka and Verona, but nothing compared to Dracula’s. There was a reason he dominated them—had dominated them—and now, she had no protection. At Dracula’s side, she’d been invincible, but now she was in the noonday sun with only her scant dress to shield her.

“Why am I even wearing this damned thing?” Aleera gasped, looking down at her dress. She had done her best to fight off Gabriel and Anna, but her dress had ended up torn and dirtied—she’d been lucky to escape with her life. Not that it even mattered how pretty she was, with no master to please—none to please her…

Howling, Aleera ripped away the tattered remains of her dress altogether. The feeling of being naked made a feverish lust burn bright in her, as though she was offering herself to Dracula’s disinterested gaze once more, as though her body were mocking her for having no man to appreciate her lovely body.

Still, it felt strangely thrilling to traipse around nude. Dracula would have forbidden it, had he still been alive. Seen it as disgusting, a beseeching plea for affection, or worse, a sign of perversion between her and her fellow brides. Aleera drank more, the strong wine going quickly to her head. Then she lowered the bottle down and pressed its cool heft to her mons. It felt nice.

“Hell, why not?” she asked aloud. “Why the hell not? I can play with myself all night if I feel like it…”

Something else Dracula had prohibited. Aleera understood. Discipline had to be maintained. He was the master. Their pleasure should only come from him, not because they desired it. But if she was going to die unprotected, unloved, she could at least enjoy her freedom before an angry mob or self-righteous vampire slayer got to her.

Still guzzling her wine, Aleera walked back up into the castle proper, her hips swaying with her newfound lust. Walking like that seemed to rub at her folds—or perhaps it was simply the fatalistic arousal she felt making her so much more sensitive—in any case, Aleera felt her clit stiffen. If Dracula were still alive, she would go to him, beg for him to take an interest in her; instead, she had to take an interest in herself.

Looking down at her body, Aleera had to admit it was easy to be attracted to Aleera. She didn’t see why Dracula had made it so difficult—preferring the newness of Anna, who now had helped kill him.

Aleera heard the click of Velkan’s claws on the tile floor, unsurprising—becoming a wolf had given the man even less manners than most men. He would feel no inhibitions about lusting after her, especially in her current state. Aleera considered flaunting herself before him. What once would’ve caused a row between her, her sisters, and Dracula now seemed almost harmless—but then she remembered, through her own inebriation, that Velkan was dead. Gabriel Van Helsing was the werewolf now.

She turned, seeing first the lycanthrope’s shadow, then his eyes glinting in the darkness. He licked his chops as he stepped out of the shadows. Before Aleera could even wonder if he was hostile, she remembered that his strength had been sufficient to kill Dracula. She had no chance.

And at that unconscious challenge to her power, the weakness of admitting that she was not invulnerable, she panicked and fled. Hoping that she could get to a sturdy door and lock it behind her, keeping the wolf out until dawn. Maybe, if he returned to his humanity, she’d stand a chance. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, Van Helsing, and the charms she’d just been admiring gave her so much to work with when it came to dealing with men. But a beast was simply that—a beast.

“Stay away from me, monster! Don’t you dare!” She heard him huffing as he ran close behind her. Maybe he thought she was playing with him. Or maybe he thought she was prey.

Aleera was used to moving in the long, cocky strides of a predator—she had no experience with moving in panting flight. She tripped before she made it out of the hallway, the bottle flying from her hands to smash against the cobblestone wall in a spray of unguzzled wine.

Unthinking, more fearful than ever, she tried to crawl forward on her hands and knees. Gabriel’s claws slashed against the floor as he came for her, bright sparks cackling in the dimly lit corridor, and the next thing she knew, Aleera felt his hot muzzle against her ass, teeth sharp and hard on her naked flesh. She shrieked, whirling around onto her back so she could at least kick at the creature before he made a meal of her.

Even as a beast, Gabriel showed the skill and cool-headedness that had served him well as a monster slayer. He thrust his brawny shoulders between Aleera’s thighs, shoving them apart before she could even coil her legs, and Aleera knew he had her. She was stricken with terror, waiting for the first bite that would mark an end to her fright and the beginning of her suffering.

She remembered how she and her sisters had taunted Velkan before Gabriel, toying with him, knowing he could not retaliate while under Dracula’s control. Now, Gabriel seemed to be avenging his fallen brother.

Only he wasn’t. His jaws didn’t snap at her like Velkan’s had, didn’t close on her flesh the way they’d ripped Dracula to pieces. Instead, his tongue emerged from his open maw and laved over Aleera’s bare cunt. She shuddered in pleasure, going limp, so shocked that she could not even conceive of escape. If she had any presence of mind, she would’ve seen the myriad opportunities this presented her, but instead, all she could think of were the sensations fluttering through her nubile body.

She recovered her wits enough to respond to that, at least, clapping her hands over her sex. The werewolf licked her fingers, growling at being denied the tasty delicacy that he’d just discovered—perhaps scented earlier, with Aleera’s masturbatory lust, and sought out.

“No! Bad dog!” The words slipped out of Aleera so fast, her addled mind could not comprehend how absurd they were. “Go away! You can’t eat my pussy! You can’t!”

Aleera backed away, padding on one hand while her heels kicked at the floor, but the werewolf dropped his left paw down between her breasts. He crushed her down to the stone floor as he mounted her. Aleera’s hands flew to his thick forearm, but she couldn’t budge him an inch. He maneuvered for leverage, pinning her in place with his limbs before he pumped his haunches against her. Aleera felt his manhood, hot and wet, against her bare skin. And big. And thick.

She cried out and wiggled away with all her strength, twisting over onto her hands and knees to scramble off. But as she pulled away, a strong hand caught her ankle, holding her fast. Aleera moved to kick at his grip on her, but another hand grabbed onto the toned thigh of her other leg—long, thick fingers big enough to span its thickness—holding her legs still. Aleera couldn’t even think of something to do with her hands before his sharp teeth sank into her neck.

Gabriel wasn’t biting her; not exactly. She knew how much force those jaws could exert—enough to crush stone—and yet, he hadn’t even broken the skin. It was more of a warning. Gabriel was bigger than her, stronger than her, and her lithe body gave him no trouble as he flung her around by the hold his teeth had on her neck.

Aleera whimpered. Her scheming consciousness was returning now, back from being subsumed under her animal fright. After all, her native instincts could do her no good here. She didn’t know if her wits and wiles could either. What negotiating was there to do with a beast? But she did have wherewithal enough to think of the irony—she had just been lamenting the loss of Dracula. And when he did pay attention to her, one of the things she most liked was that he could overpower her, overwhelm her.

How many minutes had she been free of that—been without that—before Van Helsing came in to fill the void?

She trembled, on her hands and knees, as the lycanthrope once more worked his haunches in and out. His cock slid over her mound and Aleera felt how damp it was, its precum mingling with her juices. She could not believe her own wetness. She would sooner have believed that she’d pissed herself. And the heat coming off of Gabriel’s prick—was he always so hot? Or had she done it to him? Her body? Her naked flesh?

Aleera tossed her ass up and down—she didn’t know why. Maybe she hoped to make him stop? “You cannot do this to me! I am not your bitch!”

Gabriel’s teeth sank into her throat, making Aleera gasp. It didn’t hurt—it didn’t feel good—there was an intensity to it, something fraught. For a long span she’d been numb, so desperate for feeling that, like an addict, she’d constantly crave what little affection Dracula bestowed upon her. This was not that. It was frightening, but exciting as well. New.

Aleera stopped struggling. She’d been ready to bring herself off with her own fingers, a naughtiness, a broken taboo, a little rebellion that once would’ve led to her punishment by Dracula, and even punishment was preferable to being neglected. She certainly wasn’t being neglected now. She could feel how much she wasn’t being neglected, rubbing up and down the length of her slit. It was the kind of thing so forbidden—adultery? Bestiality?—that if Dracula were still around, he would surely rid himself of her the moment he caught her at it. Replace her with another bride first thing.

But he’s not around, is he? The only one forbidding this… is me…

More to the point, the werewolf wasn’t forbidding it. And it seemed very much like right now, he was calling the shots. Gabriel had a vise-like grip on her neck and only allowed her to move in a way he allowed. Having his sharp teeth at her throat scared Aleera, but it did other things too. As did feeling his thick cock rubbing against her sex. Her clit felt like it was glowing, while her nipples were full of warm blood. Aleera gasped with a swirl of emotions as Gabriel hunched down to her, clearly searching for some place to thrust the needy erection he’d been letting her feel for the last few minutes.

“You can’t… you can’t… can you?” Aleera wondered aloud.

He was certainly trying hard enough. A werewolf—little more than a beast. It was unthinkable, yet the werewolf clearly was thinking that. And she was thinking the same thing.

“But you can’t… I don’t… oh God… my virginity…”

Aleera was not a virgin in the traditional sense. She had been when she’d been Turned, but after that, she’d known the touch of a man. Perhaps Dracula had resented that… someone else having lain with her… perhaps that had been the reason he neglected her so often. Because if Aleera wasn’t… touched… with some regularity, her vampiric healing worked its way to her maidenhead.

When things were good with Dracula, he attended to her frequently enough that she didn’t have to worry. But when she displeased him, or simply didn’t try hard enough to earn his favor, he left her to her own devices. Either shutting himself up in his own dark thoughts or lavishing attention on her sisters instead. Punishing Aleera with the thought that even if she regained his affection, she would need to go through the pain of losing her virginity once more in order to claim it.

Gabriel didn’t seem like he was going to be the same inattentive lover as Dracula had been. He didn’t seem like he was going to stop fucking her at all, already lunging against her, feverishly trying to get the angle right so he could drive himself inside. Aleera felt his slick cockhead glide along her mons, raggedly touching her clit—swooping ecstasy that had Aleera’s eyes flickering back in her head. She came back to her senses having forgotten a little more of her misgivings. And the werewolf, sensing he’d missed the warm pressure that he’d been seeking, pulled back to thrust again.

Her mind reeling, Aleera defaulted to once more thinking of Dracula as alive—fearing his wrath, fearing not pleasing him. She tried to crawl away again, but the werewolf would have none of it. Perhaps if she’d truly wanted him to stop, his animal instincts would’ve ceased the mating attempt—something of the man’s honor stopping the beast. But the wolf could tell how Aleera yearned for him, far deeper than her paltry denials, and mere civility couldn’t divert him from his need. No matter how she protested, he would answer her deeper urges.

And so the werewolf stayed atop her, tightening his teeth into her vulnerable neck, growling in threatening ownership. Aleera whined herself, an animalistic keening, and bumped into the wall—she hadn’t even been watching where she’d been going.

The werewolf’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Then his hairy pelt stroked her milky skin, perversely soothing, as he humped against her ass to try and skewer her with his cock. It was engorged with sheer desire for her, and she was wet and open with her readiness to be fucked.

Gabriel’s swollen prick crossed over her pussy again, hatefully making her aware of her own wetness. Yet, she didn’t think it was really possible to be mated by him. He was a beast, a pet, a guard dog—she was the woman of Dracula himself. It could not be; it wouldn’t happen.

But as unnatural as it was, Gabriel seemed determined to make it so. And Aleera couldn’t help but be excited by the constant rubbing of that girthy erection against her sex, doing to her what she’d been about to do to herself, but with the rabid domination she’d come to crave from her vampire master over the centuries. She’d longed to be taken like this, just not by him—only her body didn’t seem to know that. Her sensitive clit was fully swollen, taut with bloody excitement, and the slightest brush against it made her shudder passionately. Her supple breasts felt heavy and her creamy skin was flushed.

She was alive.

With her head hanging between her braced arms, Aleera tried to think. How could she get out of this—make this embarrassing pleasure, this surrender, end before she was caught by one of her sisters? Or worse, by Anna? How could she divert Gabriel from the same lust she herself had been unable to resist?

The wolf seemed Dracula’s polar opposite, ready to make up the time she’d spent unsatisfied with interest. He rutted against her like a maniac, his massive cock pleasing her even with its slippery misses. Once he almost rammed into her asshole and Aleera screeched in such outrage that she could feel Gabriel make an effort to pull away from that spot.

Sudden realization made her keen wretchedly. She wanted this. He’d respected her genuine wish not to be sodomized, but still laid claim to her womanhood. Why? Because she’d offered it to him. Offered it to him in everything but words, with everything in her but her stupid, misplaced loyalty to Dracula, dead and gone and unable to ever satisfy her again anyway, not that he’d ever tried so hard in the first place.

“Damn you!” Aleera mewled as the wolf’s burning cockhead pressed against her virgin tightness, not knowing who she spoke to.

Gabriel wasn’t listening anyway; not to her words, at least.