Chapter 2 – Chapter 2

Munich to Füssen

I lay on a padded, but still uncomfortable table, Dr. Pilser standing over me wearing a white coat. He was looking furtively behind him beyond where a white curtain was half pulled between my table and the other side, where someone else was lying on another table. Varick was standing beyond that table. Pilser obviously thought I was still out, because he had one of my legs bent, and he was fingering my ass, the finger being up inside my channel. He was fondling my cock and balls with his other hand.

I was naked and a needle at the end of tube lead was inserted into the crook of one of my arms, with blood dripping into me from a bag hanging on a stand next to the bed. It's the first time I had required a transfusion. We'd been here before, in Dr. Pilser's surgery in Füssen, for other young men Varick wanted to spin out a little longer when we were staying at the hunting lodge. But this was the first time I was here to receive a transfusion myself. Varick had never gone as far with me as he had done on the train from Heidelberg to Munich. It didn't escape me that our relationship was entering dangerous ground. I could no longer be sure that his need for my support would restrain him.

When we'd left the train in Munich Varick had barely been able to help both Stefan and me onto the platform. Seeing us struggling, a conductor had blown his whistle and porters had come running. So had Pietr, the lodge's driver and, fortunately for him, too old and grizzled to be of special interest to Varick, who jumped down from the carriage and hobbled to us.

"No, no, just a bit of motion sickness, both of them," the baron had said, his voice commanding enough to bring the panic to an end. "Just help get them to the carriage. They will be fine."

I was more fine than Stefan was, although the sloppy smile on his face seemed to calm the concern that he was in pain. Neither one of us was in pain, really. Both of us had ceased our journey just this side of paradise, thanks to Varick's expert cocking. Both of us would have willingly crossed over for just that little extra slice of paradise. I remember muttering. "Stefan. To the hospital. Here in Munich," and Varick agreeing with me as we both were handed up into the carriage.

But of course Varick didn't have the carriage go to the hospital in Munich. He told Pietr to drive on to Füssen. Varick had a doctor in Füssen, Dr. Pilser, who could keep his secrets and who was expert in the new technique of blood transfusions. We had used him before. He was happy as long as Varick paid him well—and not just in money. He was given sexual access to those he was transfusing. I had never before thought that this would include me—but the doctor's probing fingers up my ass and hand on my cock told me that it did.

The baron had fucked Stefan again en route from Munich to Füssen. He had restrained himself from taking any more of the young man's blood, but that didn't stop him from crouching between Stefan's raised and spread legs, the young man's knees hooked on Varick's hips and his hands clutching the baron's biceps, his fists opening and closing to the rhythm of the thrusts. The young man obviously was aware enough to enjoy the cock working deep inside his ass. Varick's cape covered their torsos and undulated with the fuck. Stefan's head was turned and he was watching me, his eyes seeming to gleam in the darkness of the carriage, his gaze one of ecstasy and triumph that it was him and not me that Varick was fucking.

The young man wasn't unaware of the dynamics playing here. He was accepting the dire risk he was taking. Still, I don't think he was fully aware where this was headed. Like most young men his age, he believed himself indestructible—and he placed a high value on personal pleasure. To him, this was high adventure and never-before-experienced ecstasy. He wouldn't be the first young man to learn that it went terminally beyond that.

I lay across the opposite seat, barely conscious, my mind in a swirling haze, straining to feel the next breath that came to me in a low pant. Unlike Stefan, I knew where this ultimately was headed.

The baron must have realized he had taken Stefan to the brink again, because when we reached Füssen and Dr. Pilser had been raised to return to his surgery and give transfusions to both Stefan and me, it was me who Varick obviously had told Pilser he could fuck to partially cover the bill. I realized that Stefan was the one lying on the other table, beyond the half-pulled curtain. I groaned as the doctor lifted and bent my other leg, spreading them apart. He realized then that I had come around from the anesthetic he'd given me before hooking me up to the transfusion bag. I saw that the bag held a full unit of blood, which I had assumed I didn't need, although Stefan probably did.

I found out then, though, why I was given a full unit. Pilser came up on the table, placed a thick pillow under the small of my back to raise my pelvis, and penetrated me with his cock, holding just inside me until I had adjusted to him and then moving deeper. He was thick and throbbing. I groaned with mixed feelings—fear of yet another taxing stretch inside me that night and wanting the cock moving inside me, challenging my channel walls to take him. He was a well-built man with a strong cock. He, in fact, was built too large to be a mere mortal. Varick, in his jealousy, rarely shared me—certainly not with another like us.

Pilser moved his torso over mine, stiff arming me on either side of my chest. As he sank inside me and started to pump me with his cock, he grabbed the hair on my head with one hand, pulled my head to the side, and stretched out my neck. I saw the flash of his fangs as he lowered his mouth to my neck, pierced the vein, and started to feed.

It came as a shock and surprise, but there was no reason why it should have. My body was just a way station now for the blood pumping from the bag into my arm. It should have worried and depressed me, but it didn't. I felt alive, electric, and, arching my back and raising my pelvis to him, began to move with him in the dance of the ultimate fuck. Sex with another one such as us was pleasure on a much higher plane than in coupling with a mere mortal.

I moved with Pilser in the fuck, taking him deep and soft and open, my deep channel walls going spongy and shimmering. Both he and I were concentrating on gauging the thrusts of his cock—and my counterthrusts—with the pulse of the feeding at my throat. We came together in a mutual cry and release.

"Otto here will be fine in a couple of hours," I heard Pilser telling Varick as I was dressing. "The other young man should rest from it for a few days. Three days, I recommend. That is unless—"

"Thank you, Herr Doctor," Varick said, handing over cash, and then we were on our way.

* * * *

"You aren't going to end it with Stefan?" I asked. "You wouldn't have had him given a transfusion if you were going to end it—at least anytime soon."

"He has captivated me," the baron answered. We were sitting in the dining room of the hunting lodge, a chalet pressed into the mountainside high up the mountain, at the tree line, and made out of huge logs. We were smoking and drinking brandy. Varick had put Stefan in his bed, and Stefan had immediately plunged into sleep. Erik, a new servant, young, blond, and more pretty than handsome, had served us and departed back to the kitchen. From the looks Varick gave him, I knew Erik wouldn't be working here for long—not that he'd be fired or quit—which was a pity, because the young man was giving me looks of unmistakable want. I would have to tell the butler to start looking for Erik's replacement immediately. I did not pity the butler, though. He had selected Erik knowing that such a lad would soon need to be replaced.

"I don't understand how I can keep him and use him at the same time," Varick said.

"We're talking about Stefan now?" I asked. Erik had just left the room and Varick's eyes were still on the door through which the young man had exited.

"Yes, Stefan. I have no such quandaries about the new servant. He is pretty but not worth a transfusion, I don't think. He is one evening's pleasure at best—just an hour or more of sport. I will use and discard him. If you want him, use him soon, use him gently, and don't spoil my sport with him."

"There is only one way to preserve Stefan through the next three days," I said, changing a discussion that I found distasteful. We weren't all as callous and self-centered as Varick was. Some of us answered the question of restraint with more humanity. "And I'm sure you know what the way is of preserving Stefan. I know you can't keep away from him. He's in your bed now. But you can give him time to recover."

"You mean the mask, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered. "You can fuck him without the need to drain him. Is he worth the discomfort of the mask?" I held my breath. I couldn't tell Varick I had feelings for Stefan as well and was trying to do what I could to keep him alive. Saving him would have to be Varick's idea.

"Yes. The mask is in my office. You will hold the key for the next three nights?"

"Yes," I said. And longer than that, if I am able.

"I will go get it. I am satiated for tonight, and I don't need it every night. But that third night . . ."

"I will see to that," I answered.

"You are none too ready for it again, either," he said.

I was touched that he cared even that much. The last time had been touch and go. I wasn't sure how much longer he could maintain restraint even with me.

"I have another idea," I said.

Before he went up to bed, we had fashioned the leather mask over his face that had a lock on it. I kept the key. The mask allowed him to breathe, but he could not bring his fangs to a position to draw blood.

He went up to bed and I stayed, waiting for Erik to come clear the table. When he did, I returned the look of want that he gave me. I peeked into Varick's bed chamber as I was going to my own. Stefan was awake and on his back, his legs bent and spread, his hands clutching Varick's bare buttocks, as the baron lay between the young blond student's thighs and fucked him in long strokes. Stefan turned his face toward the door and gave me a look of triumph. Varick was wearing the mask.

If only you knew, Stefan, what I am trying to do for you. If only you knew.

Erik came to me later in the night. I was too tired to take him properly, but I did want to have him before Varick got to him. I lay on my back, with Erik straddling my hips and riding my cock. When I felt myself close, I raised my chest to his, embraced him, took him into a kiss. I ran my fingers into his curly black hair and pulled his head to the side. I was feeding on him—but just a taste—when I bathed him deep with my cum. He was delicate and had swooned already. But he was still in usable condition. And he had been taken across that divide. The feeding and the fully possessing size of me had given him pleasures such as he'd never experienced before. He would be open to more of the same now.

I held him close to me through the night and felt strong enough in the morning to put him on all fours and fuck him hard, but I didn't feed. He hadn't remembered all that had happened earlier in the night other than that there were higher-plane pleasures to be had from taking a man who was inhumanly big and who suckled at the throat.

Varick was irritable the next day, but manageable. Stefan did not leave Varick's bed. For me, it was only a matter of keeping Varick from returning to his bed chamber during the day, while he was free of the mask.

The following night when Erik came to me—voluntarily—I fucked him royally and feasted on his blood. He now was aware of what was happening to him and fully made the connection of the fucking and feeding as necessary to attain the pleasure he now had to have. I had slowly brought him into it, so that, fearlessly now, he was seeking rather than shrinking away from the sensual act of giving me more than his channel. Becoming a willing blood giver was a conditioning process that enticed with incredible sexual pleasure. Man will take almost any risk to be sexually satiated in a way and to a degree he never has been before. And, like any submissive, he delighted in being able to sheath a cock of mammoth proportions.

The act of sucking blood while fucking a man with an oversized cock brought the man into a realm of euphoria and sensuality that was an elixir to him, leaving him wanting more and more intense sucking and fucking. Erik had no idea how draining it could be, and I maintained restraint, not leaving him much weakened, and whatever weakness he felt was taken as a glorious pleasure brought on by the act. But after that first feeding he still came to me—just as knowing the dangers I willing went to Varick. He would want more and more of it before any realization set in of what it was taking away from him. The big-cocked sex that accompanied it was more intense than anything he would have experienced before. And even once he knew all, he would no longer care.

I knew all of this, as I was trapped by it myself, saved only by Varick's willingness to show restraint with me. Once we were locked together, with him suckling at my neck and his monster cock moving inside me, I was lost to him. I was one with him, willing to melt into him and disappear altogether. He could go as far as he wanted, and I would welcome it and seek new heights in the experience even to the end. The coordinated rhythm of the suckling and draining at the throat—or crook of the arm or armpit, or, as Varick's favorite with me, at the nipple—and the deep pump of the all-possessing cock merged into an enveloping symphony that was unlike any other sensation or pleasure.

As I had found, it enhanced the experience for the taker to rise into the same realm. The infusion of the blood was electric and powering. The senses and vitality soared. One's cock thickened and lengthened to almost unmanageable proportions. Stamina was heightened. The coordinated rhythm of the suck and fuck was like composing a symphony. One's orgasm rolled on and on, the cum produced and released was more prodigious. One felt more alive and sensual than ever before. The same unity of the two bodies and the melting of the giver into the taker that was experienced by the giver was also experienced by the taker, who wanted to possess and completely subsume his prey. One had to fight for restraint. Varick was the master in all realms but this—the more drawn into the need of this special world, the less restraint he was able to command. It was why we had had to leave Berlin.

The next morning I took the mask off Varick again. He was in a foul mood, as was, I thought, natural and stomped around in high dungeon all day. Stefan didn't appear outside Varick's bed chamber. Erik took his meals to him. I thought that was wise. Varick was fucking Stefan and he hadn't recovered all of his strength yet. I shuddered at the thought of what Varick would do with him once the young man had fully recovered.

Varick was pacing back and forth by supper time, roaring at everything and everyone. I had thought to wait on my plan for as long as possible, but this seemed to be as long as he would hold off. More than once he told me he was going up to his bed chamber but that he didn't want to wear the mask. Each time I found a diversion for him. I knew that such a trip would be the end for Stefan.

The last diversion was Erik. When he delivered the after-supper smokes and brandy, I drew Varick's attention to the young man as he was departing.

"You won't need the mask when you sleep with Stefan tonight if you are fully satiated for the night," I said. "I have had Erik already. His blood is sweet. His channel is sweet as well. He is expendable, and you can take him the distance. I really recommend—"

"Call him in," Varick growled.

"Let us finish our smokes and brandy first," I said. "Then I will fetch him and leave you two alone. I suggest one of the bed chambers on the first floor." I didn't want Varick going anywhere near his own bed chamber and Stefan when he was in this condition.

I waited for several minutes after sending Erik into Varick. When I checked to see if they were gone from the dining room, they weren't. Varick was fucking him right there on the dining table. Erik was bent over the table, hands pressed into the surface of the table. Varick was covering him from behind, one arm embracing the young man's waist and the other hand cupping Erik's chin. Varick was taking him in long strokes from behind. I watched until I saw Varick pull Erik's head to the side to stretch his neck, and sink his fangs into the young servant's throat. Erik emitted a long, drawn-out sigh as Varick commenced to feed.

Some minutes later, I checked again. Erik was no longer supporting himself. Varick was holding his body up. Erik's head was turned toward me. There was a look of serenity and ecstasy on his face. Varick was still fucking him and feeding on him. The sucking sounds were long, fierce, draining. Erik's supreme pleasure was evident not only from the angelic expression on his face but also from his deep moans and mewings. Weak as he was, he still was able to raise an arm, the fingers of his hand running through Varick's luxurious black curls, and holding Varick's head into his throat. I regretted the waste, of course. But the young man had been brought across the divide. He submitted to this willingly. He would never have known the pleasure he was receiving now if he had lived a long life, and, having gotten a taste of it from me, he would not ever have been fully satisfied in a long life without being used by Varick. He was fully satisfied in this moment.

Sometime later, I checked again. Erik was on his back on the table, one leg dangling down toward the floor and the other one being held raised and spread by Varick. The baron, nearly lying on top of Erik was still stroking with his cock and feeding on one of Erik's nipples. The young man looked drained. His eyes were open but glazed. A beatific smile still was formed on his lips.

When I next checked, Varick was gone, presumably to bed, with Stefan, but his blood lust fully satiated. I took up the drained body of Erik, slight and light in death, which had sunk under the dining table, and took it to the servants' wing, laying him in his bed. I closed his eyes with a brush of my hand, whispered an apology, and went to bed.

Everything was fine through the next day with Varick, although I spent the entire day trying to figure out how to keep him from declaring Stefan fit and then not being able to control himself with the young man. Varick seemed to be able to practice less restraint with each passing day.

In the end, I did what I had to do. Right after supper, I enticed him to my room and into fucking and feeding on me. In truth I needed it myself from him. But, as I half feared, as he had done in the train carriage, he was passing the normal limits of our coupling and I was growing very weak. I only narrowly managed to roll out from underneath him and to lock him in my room for the night.

The next day, he wasn't happy, but he recognized that he was losing control. He agreed to wear the mask again.

I sat for hours that night before going up to my bed. I was worried about the baron and his increased lack of restraint. I also was worried about Stefan. I schemed on how to get him out of this situation. I realized that now I would never have him, but that was secondary to finding a way to save him.

Thankfully, the night went well in Varick's bed chamber and the glimmer of a hope for Stefan came the next day. He was well enough to be up and about, and I took him into Füssen with me to shop for clothes for him. I sent him back to the lodge with Pietr, the carriage driver, who was to return later for me as I went in to the offices of the law firm that I was connected with when I was in Füssen.

I was checking the news services for word on Berlin and whether the furor over the baron's activities there had been settling down, when a young man, another lawyer, I was told, by the name of Dieter Speidel, was shown in to see me. He was a beautiful young man, not yet thirty, a good five years younger than I was. Blond and blue-eyed, he had a strikingly handsome face even when it was set in a look of concern, as it was now. Still, when our eyes first met, he was able to give me a radiant smile of mutual understanding, mutual interest. My eyes slid down his expensively clothed, fine torso to his crotch. He clearly was gifted there. I would want to lie under him rather than on him.

"Yes, I understand you asked for me?" I said, surprised. Who here would be asking for me?

"Yes, I work in Saltzburg, Austria," the man said. "I have been trying to trace a missing son of the family Heinz that resides there. His name is Stefan. He is a student at Heidelberg University, but he hasn't returned home from the end of the school year yet. He was last seen getting off the train in Munich. He was in the company of Baron Varick von Richthoven. I understand you represent the baron."

My blood—such as I still had—ran cold. "Yes, I represent the baron, but I haven't seen him in—"

"A Doctor Pilser here in Füssen says he saw the baron a couple of days ago. And the young man who was with him fits the description of Stefan Heinz. In fact, I have been told that a young man of Stefan's description was seen in the stores here with you earlier in the day."

He moved closer to me and put a hand on my forearm. I felt it burning there, but I could not acknowledge it—or my strong attraction to him. I couldn't withstand the hold of his eyes on mine either and looked away.

"I was helping my nephew dress for the university this afternoon, and I believe the baron is in Munich," I said. "I will, of course, contact him immediately and see if I can shed some light on this. Where are you staying in Füssen?"

As he gave me his contact information, my mind was racing on what I needed to do. I kept pushing the need to strangle Doctor Pilser into the background as not of the highest priority.

"Ah, well, it must have been some other young man then," Speidel said. "Speaking of my hotel, though, there is a café there and I haven't had afternoon tea yet. Have you had yours? Perhaps you would care to join me. I find you . . . interesting."

I thought it was perhaps too easy to deflect him, and, that proved to be true.

I was upright, but kneeling on the bed in Dieter's hotel room. He was embracing me from behind, an arm around my waist, a hand cupping my chin. I could feet his heart beating against my back—the rhythm was fast, but in synch with the rhythm of my own. He had a fine cock. It was deep up inside me and exploring, caressing the walls of my passage deep in the soft core of me. My passage was responding, the muscles of the walls undulating over the thick, long shaft.

We came out of a kiss, and I cried out in passionate welcome—wanting—as the hand cupping my chin pulled my head over to the side and he sank his fangs into my throat. The cock inside me expanded and lengthened as he fed.

My sensations exploded into a new world of pleasure and want. My channel walls grasped his cock, pulling it deeper inside me as his feeding enhanced his size and length and milked it to an orgasm that started in a gush and then just rolled on and on, as my flow started as well. I felt the throbbing suckling at my throat and the continued expanding of his cock inside me, making new demands in opening my passage, which responded immediately. He started to pump me, demanding and deep, cum spinning out of him and deep up into my intestines, matching the thrusts to the suck at my neck. Even as I felt myself weakening, I was melting into him, becoming one with him, wanting to disappeared into his body. I was gripping his head with one hand, pressing it into my throat, and working my cock with the other.

He was a master. I had thought there was only one—Varick. But this man was Varick's equal. I was one with him. I could deny him nothing.

Colored lights flashed before my eyes, my focus of attention raced between what was churning inside me and what was sucking at my neck. My strength was flowing out of me and I collapsed within his embrace, fully open and giving to Dieter, fully dependent on him for support—for very life itself. I cried out in ultimate pleasure as his ejaculation increased in strength, triggering mine to do so as well, both of them rolling on and on into an eternity of ecstasy, the mixing of our fluids flowing out of me and puddling on and soaking into the bedspread.

I should have known from the beginning, from the first look we exchanged, from the size of his cock snaking down his thigh inside his tight trousers. Dieter was one of us.

He murmured into my ear as we cooled down, holding position, and I answered I know not what. Buzzing was still pounding in my ears. My heart was racing and I was gauging it coming back into a realm of safety, not being sure that it ever would, not caring if it didn't. I was weak and just collapsed on the bed when he released my body and rose back onto his feet. In my weakness I drifted off to a fretful sleep. When I woke, feeling the strength returning to me—knowing he had used restraint and left me in functional condition—he was gone from the hotel room.

I don't know what I told him. I didn't want to think of what I might have told him. But I knew that Varick was in danger—that we needed to move on, and we needed to do so quickly. His match was nearby and was seeking Stefan.

I spent a couple of hours making arrangements for getting the three of us—Varick, Stefan, and me—away and heading to somewhere safe. The complication was that somewhere safe for Stefan wasn't with Varick and me. I had to make separate arrangements to pull him away from the baron without Varick suspecting I was doing so—and Stefan as well, for that matter—and getting him delivered to his lawyer, Speidel, without him being able to trace it back to me or the baron.

But would he, in fact, be safe with Speidel? Did Speidel even represent Stefan's family, or was he another, competing Varick, who had sniffed the air, realized what a prize Stefan was, and wanted the young man for himself. Speidel was one of us. The attraction of Stefan for Speidel couldn't be any less than it had been for the baron or for me. And Stefan couldn't be trusted now, either. Now that he'd had Varick and me, he would crave what Speidel could give him. I couldn't deal with that question now. There was too much need to separate the young man from Varick and get Varick to a place of safety and at a distance from Stefan's siren charms.

I succeeded in making the arrangements that needed to be made, called Pietr in from the biergarten he'd been waiting in, and had him take me up to the hunting lodge.

Dieter Speidel's body was on the staircase, his trousers ripped off him, his body drained of blood. So, in the end, he was no match for Varick. I rushed on up the stairs to Varick's bed chamber. He was on top of Stefan on the bed, his cock buried inside Stefan, his fangs dripping in blood. Stefan was laying under him, arms and legs akimbo; mouth slack open, although in a smile; eyes glazed over. He clearly was gone.

I lost control of myself. Everything I had done, had tried to do, had gone for naught. There were lit candles in the chamber. I grabbed one up in my hands and stumbled around the room, lighting the curtains on the windows and the drapes on the poster bed. Varick lay there, embracing Stefan's body and looking at me with dull eyes. He was drunk on the blood of two men. If he had moved at all, it would have had to be sluggishly. But he was in a stupor of ultimate pleasure. He grinned at me, fangs dripping in blood, oblivious to the flames engulfing the room.

Exiting the chamber, I grabbed the key out of the lock, slammed the door shut, and locked Varick in the burning room. I ran down the staircase, yelling "Fire! Get out of the house now!" and cleared all of the servants out of the lodge. We stood there, well away from the log chalet, and watched it burn to the ground. Ashes to ashes.

* * * *