Smutty's One-shots

When the news began to spread that the most ancient of the Elders needed an offering, I knew immediately in my gut what I would do. I had always been so curious about them, what made them different from us, why they were the way they were. When the assembly was gathered, and they made a call for volunteers, I raised my hand.

There was a bit of an uproar over my actions. Most other folks that volunteered were quite elderly and ready to embrace their potential end, wanting to serve the people with their conceivably last moments. In contrast, I was only thirty-one, and in decent health.

Just as I’d hoped, the congress of Elders chose me.

After saying a quick possible farewell to my shocked family, I was led back into a set of chambers I had never seen. I was told the Elder, Master Andrew, had gone too long without feeding, that he was now bedridden because of his stubbornness. Indeed, I couldn’t recall having seen him up and about since I was a little girl. His icy, blue eyes had always both terrified and fascinated me.

In preparation, I was bathed completely in sweet-smelling waters, and my entire body below the neck was shaven clean of hair. Though it seemed extravagant, I knew the logical reason. It made access to my veins easier for the Elder, and clean up afterwards simpler, should I die. Lotions were applied to keep my skin from growing irritated. My hair was dried and then put in a loose braid piled atop my head. I was dressed in a rather immodest, flowing shift of gauzy material.

It was only then that I started to question my decision. The very real assertion that I was possibly about to die at the hands of a predator started to grip my gut. As my fingernails were being trimmed, filed, and buffed, I felt my hands begin to shake.

One of the women noticed. She smiled calmly at me, just showing her pointy canines. “I don’t believe you have any reason to be afraid. Master Andrew is so ancient, he may require nothing more than a drop. Though you are so lovely. It’s rare to feed from one such as you.”

I flushed, embarrassed at my behavior, but couldn’t help but ask, “But what if he wishes for more than a drop?”

The woman’s grin widened, “Then he shall have it.”

Once I was made into a suitable tribute, I followed the mostly silent women through many corridors and down several stairwells, until we came to a very ornate, heavy, wooden door. The same woman that had spoken with me earlier gave me instruction, “Go inside and greet Master Andrew properly. Do not struggle, it would make it more dangerous for you, your skin might tear. Go now.”

I entered the large chamber alone, surprised to see it illuminated solely by candlelight. Though there was other furniture, the centerpiece was clearly a massive, canopied bed, its curtains drawn. I hesitated by the door, fear squirming in my belly.

A shockingly deep, strong voice came from the bed, “I smell you, woman. Be not afraid. Come to me.”

Fearing disobedience even more than what was surely about to come, I made my way to the side of the monstrous bed. Timidly, I held the heavy curtain aside, and beheld the bed’s sole occupant.

His cheeks were hollowed with age, his cheekbones painfully prominent. His hair was white as snow, yet was cut cleanly into a modern style. But still, his strong jaw remained, along with his intense, crystalline gaze.

It just slipped out, “How old are you?”

His eyes widened a bit in surprise, and he let out a low chuckle as he adjusted himself to be a bit more upright. “I was born in America, in 1990.” My mouth fell open. Surely he was lying!

My reaction got another soft chortle, softening into a smile. “You know, it has been many years since I’ve seen a young, human woman. Your vitality and your pretty eyes remind me of my first wife.”

I blushed. Again, I rudely spoke without thinking. “Your first wife?”

Master Andrew nodded. “I have buried them all. None of them cared to join me, understandably. I always feared being alone, but at last I have embraced it.”

I felt a twinge of sympathy for the ancient being in front of me. All the land, and my community in particular, counted on him to hold things together. Yet his existence was a lonely one. Doubtless even more so, now that he had weakened so greatly from going without feeding. “Why did you wait so long to eat?”

He scowled. “I am very weary. I’m tired of taking from people. I don’t like it.”

Unsure how to proceed, I held out my hand. “I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

He raised a white eyebrow at me in question, but I forced myself to hold my hand steady. I was surprised when he gently singled out my index finger, extending it fully.

It seemed like the moment was stretching out into eternity as Master Andrew brought my finger to his lips. I watched, fascinated, as he opened his mouth and I saw, for the first time, an incredibly long set of fangs. He held my gaze as he pressed the pad of my finger purposefully to one of his canines.

There was a brief pinch, and then I felt a wave of wellbeing and contentment flow through me. I watched, bewitched by his saliva, as he ran his tongue against the small cut, collecting the few drops of ruby-red blood and tasting them.

Master Andrew groaned, “You are so sweet, so sweet…” He placed my finger in his mouth and began to suck lightly upon it. A flood of oddly sensual feeling rolled through me; I felt my nipples harden and my sex moisten. It was so overwhelming, I almost didn’t notice the bizarre transformation that was happening right in front of me.

Master Andrew’s skin softened, becoming a smooth alabaster. His hair gained a dark blonde color and thickened, the white disappearing as if by magic. His face and body filled out, it was as though he were a new man. A much younger, very handsome man.

The feeling of his tongue running along my digit, the brush of his teeth, became incredibly erotic. As he withdrew my finger from his mouth, placing a chaste kiss over the cut, I felt a keen sense of regret that our shared moment in time could be ending.

Notes

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