The Daughter of Janus
Added 2018-10-26 00:23:27 +0000 UTCAuthor's Notes: It may become apparent very quickly that this was an immense writing challenge, one that I'm very proud of and think I rose to the occasion of. This is a Bloodlines story I've been wanting to dive into for some while -- and while certain story elements will be best appreciated if you've played VtM (and especially if you've played as a malkavian), I think this has plenty to offer, both in terms of porn and raw writing, that you'll be able to enjoy regardless
Anyway, without further ado -- happy Halloween!
[story] [futa/futa] [blowjob/deepthroat] [titfucking] [anal] [biting/light blood] [magic(?)] [vampires/undeath] [batshit insanity]
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Hahahaha. Hahahahahahahaha.
String of nails. String of nails. String of nails.
Where is she... where’s my wife...? Has anyone seen my wife? Has ANYONE SEEN MY WIFE?
Hehehehehe. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I touch you. You touch you.
Eat the string. Eat the string.
Please, no! Don’t come any closer! Please!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
Sweet whispers are mine to keep, or perhaps they keep me. I know they keep me company, keep me distracted from the pulsing, throbbing heartbeat of the nightclub trickling into my ears. A place for me, both in nature and in name, though I feel more alone within its glowing walls than I did out in the silence of the Santa Monica alleyways. The Asylum. The flavor of irony is sweet at the back of my mind’s throat as I wilfully check in. Nightclub, madhouse, neither matter. Neither do the empty-eyed bloodbags in their skintight dresses, wobbling atop their high heels like drunken apes balancing on a long needle. Better to pierce them, then. Better to drain them for the one thing they’re useful for.
Of equally little concern are the fledglings that arch and squirm like centipedes beneath the burning gaze of a lamp too bright. Oh, how they writhe upon the floor of dance, eyes closed and fangs bared, Kindred in blood but unconnected to one another, each their very own island of secrets and desires. Bundles of their own whispers. They feed and they flail and they consider that a fulfilling use of immortality.
The sound of a woman sobbing rings in the back of my mind, discordant and out of rhythm with the thump of the Asylum’s ghostly, warbling orchestra. A whisper in distress, locked away in my mind, where it can be kept and cherished and listened to, heeded. Her pain is indistinct but sweet, formless, like pouring cream down one’s throat and never swallowing. As formless as the flickering, revelrous shapes around me, shapes that should be coated with sweat, kept dry by the clay of undeath.
“Excuse me, miss? You’re making our guests a little uncomfortable.” The speaker is tall and dark and of the fuzzy sort. Like a wolf, though far less fuzzy, I suppose. His body speaks to me in the language of clothing, his noisy black suit screaming at me that he is security at the club. Of course he would be, for he could be nothing else, now.
“Draw them a bath, perhaps,” I hiss through fanged teeth, slipping my goggles up onto my forehead, leaving me wrapped only in the dark, pruned flesh of pack-beasts, butchered by stitches and ink until I can fold it around my body. I feel cradled, like the arms of a mother around her bloody, dying child. “More comfortable that way.”
“Probably not if you’re still staring at ‘em like that,” he says. I turn and look at him, realizing I was incorrect. He is not tall in the least, only bald. A common mistake. “Look, can you just-- oh, shit. Malkavian, huh?”
“Should I not be.”
“Far be it from me to judge someone by who ended up siring them. Sure as fuck ain’t your fault,” he sighs, fidgeting a little. “Look, is there something I can help you with?”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
“Silence, I am trying to think,” I murmur to the whisper. Why am I here, again? I recall a purpose, perhaps many. I sought something, though my mind empties itself the more full it becomes. “Why might I have come?”
The bouncer shrugs. “Most Kindred who come here are looking for somethin’ to suck, or just a place to speed up immortality. Used to be a lot more legit types back when Therese was here, but--”
“The daughter of Janus? Yes, I recall her smell and the way she would possess ankles, very impressive until she was....”
Shhh! Secrets must wither on our tongue!
Right, yes. Thank you, whispers. I should not give much away. It has only been a matter of weeks since I convinced a daughter to eat its twin in the womb. Therese Voerman is no more, replaced by a daughter far sweeter, the jester of my heart’s madhouse. How I missed her. War now threatens to bury Los Angeles like a swarm of flies on a single corpse, and it would be irresponsible not to admit some involvement in that. If the war ends with my final demise, I should have liked to know the offered murmurs of the remaining daughter.
“You, uh...?”
“I seek the remaining daughter. The one with two eyes and two tails and two fangs, as she once had two of another thing. Give me to her as one might give a gift from a sick uncle, one that has begun to leak through the packaging.”
The bouncer simply blinks, then shrugs his shoulders once again, nodding toward the elevator. “Y’know, I’ve met a few malks in my day, but you... fuck. You got bit hard.”
“You’re welcome,” I answer, following his direction to the elevator and appearing inside of it, no longer in the Asylum but now in the long, heavensward gateway between madhouse and embrace. The bouncer moves to enter alongside me, but I quickly press the notch that will deny him. I begin to ascend towards my reward -- the broken goddess with hair of gold, eyes of earth and sea, and lips that promise oblivion itself.
What is her appeal? What is it that has caused so many of my endless thoughts to wander to her? She spoke once of union -- a union I was promised I could not have, now that I was one with the night. The whispers spoke to me of it as well, attempted to explain, but their answers felt dense and twisted, difficult to understand, like a mathematical conundrum beyond my learning.
I lick at the edge of one fang as the elevator brings me up, up, up. At the bottom of the tub. Find everything there. Useful information for later, perhaps, but for the moment I find myself in a state of focus and ponderance. The whispers continue to nag and tease and caress, laugh, sob, scream, but my brain returns me to thoughts of the split one. Jeanette. I want to know what she meant.
The elevator finally stops, opens, and I glide forth from it, though the small entry hallway that leads to the penthouse where she should -- will -- be. I bring my hand to the wood and knock once, then again, my head tilting slowly clockwise as I wonder when she’ll answer, if she’ll answer. If I should be here or not.
“Oooooh... I wonder who this could be? Smells... sweet, spicy...” I hear her voice from the other side of the door, and stand still with my arms at my sides. I’m not sure how I’m to prepare myself for such an unexpected meeting. Usually we would never call on someone unless in search of information... or a new cleaver for the butcher’s trade, a new knight’s sword to vomit daggers of lead.
I hear her voice again, lips this time pressed against the door, and her song pours forth through the wood. “Who is iiit?”
The mailman. “The mailman. Wait...” Hehehehahahahah. “I desire to...” So many fingertips to nibble so gently, so little time to kiss them... “I’ve arrived to nibble your fingertips, daughter of Janus.”
There’s a pause, then the door suddenly swings open to reveal the pale princess in all of her glory -- her loose white blouse worn open and tied at its bottom, providing so much to see of her milky cleavage and belly alike. Her skirt is as blood without thumping, hiding what may lay beneath before giving way to the smooth pillars with which she trods upon the earth. But why am I only now noticing these things? Blood is all that is needed for a Kindred to be satisfied... yet now I desire something else. Is it the voices, is it them that I seek to appease? The minds within mine?
“Hah, knew it was you,” the daughter of Janus teases, drawing my eyes from her ankles back to her face, as white as the moon itself, lips like the tip of an assassin’s dagger. Her eyes, as always, remain as unmatched as her wandering attitudes -- one as blue as sweet sorrow, the other as green as fresh, blooming hell. “You’re one of the only Kindred I’ve met that can make me wonder what in Cain’s pissy panties they were talking about... or care, at least.” She grins, a wide, playful smile like a cat that’s just wiped out an entire species of small birds. I try to smile back, but find that Jeanette looks... uncomfortable, after a moment. “What brings you to my side of Santa Monica, kitty-cat?”
“Only the scent of a goddess, her soul’s garment split -- but the radiance it reveals only starves the mind’s eye more.” I pause, ponder for a moment. Too much? No. “You have left me in a desert after only murmuring of water. I do not know what it is I desire, only that I must have it.” I keep my voice husky and steady, head tilted to regard the daughter of Janus. I gaze at only a single eye, the green one, searching for the soul within it. Wondering if this is the mirror that was broken.
Her smile widens. Swallow the pills. I blink, shaking my mind from my thoughts, and concentrate on the blonde vampiress in front of me, the end of one of her girlish pigtails curled around one playful finger. “Couldn’t stop thinking about me, huh? About what we could... do?” she drifts forward, hands laying across either of my leather-clad hips, and stares into my eyes with her unbalanced ones. I’m confused for a moment, then notice the door clicking shut behind me, and my own feet a few steps forward from where they’d been. Hmm.
The inside of Jeanette’s room is as opulent as ever, though a bit messier now without her stricter twin’s meddling. Clothes and underthings hang from the posts of the new bed, and a bloodsplatter decorates not one, but two walls with a splash of dark crimson. Perfect for the fall. I should inquire if she’ll decorate my apartment....
“Will you decorate my apartment?”
The golden daughter blinks, frowns. “I thought it was time to... play. You don’t wanna bore kitty, do you?”
“I’m confused. Earlier you referred to me as kitty. Now it seems I have been tricked, and that it is you who are, in fact, the kitty.” SWALLOW. “Perhaps we are both the kitty.”
Jeanette glares for a moment, then her mood seems to flip as if a snap of a lightswitch. She giggles. “I forgot how silly you were. No wonder I’ve been thinking about you too... about how much I want to eat you up.”
“I thought w--” she manages to silence me by lunging forward, pressing her ruby lips to my own and letting out a long, anxious moan, her arms winding tighter around my waist. I’m reminded of how significantly she is my elder -- her grip is impressive. Though it would be dishonest to say I have not shown older the final death, and little girls who lie get stripped down and beaten with studded belts. Or was that little girls who cry... “Lie, cry, lie, cry... no....”
“No drifting off, princess,” Jeanette coos, kissing me again, nipping at my lower lip with her delicate fangs, enough to pierce the skin but not to draw my unliving blood to the surface. “I need you to focus up. We can have all the fun we want... but you gotta work for it. Things work a little differently once you die.”
“Must they?”
“Yup. Now close your eyes, okay? Heeheehee...” she waits, watching me expectantly, giggling, until I finally relent and let my unblinking gateways to the world drift shut. “No peeking, now....”
I do not peek, though I do want to. She steals my attention elsewise, her fingers sliding down from my hips to the front of the leather casing that envelops my chest, drawing down the zipper to reveal the torn, tattered white t-shirt beneath it. Her fingertips trail and caress along my skin through the thin fabric, her other hand slipping my jacket off entirely while the other traces slow, lazy patterns around the pale skin of my breast. “Do you feel that, baby? Mmm?”
“I...” my eyes stay open wide as I attempt to process her touch, and the meaning behind it. I can feel it. Should I be feeling it more? “Like staring at the moon on a cloudy night. I know it is there, but... cannot find it.”
“Bring your blood to my fingers,” she whispers. “Let me feel your warmth. Break through the clouds.”
My brow knits in thought. Bringing blood to the skin is something I’ve heard of -- the Blush of Life, it was spoken of as -- but only as a means of mingling unseen among humans. But... perhaps hoarding my blood less jealously and letting it dance beneath my skin will let me feel her. Let me have her, and let her have me. Wet. Weeeeettt. I concentrate, running my tongue across my lips only to have it quickly clasps between Jeanette’s own, the pigtailed beauty suckling lovingly at the end of the slippery appendage. I let my blood bloom, let it open within me like a blossom, reaching out to my flesh, like a deep red tea steeped within the warm water of my body.
Then I feel it. Feel her. I feel her lips around my tongue, her fingertips teasing sweetly along my breast. The whispers become a chorus of linked voices, now unified in one single desire, basking in the excitement and the shimmer of pleasure that begins to shiver through me. A reminder of when I was alive, maybe, or of the many lives I never lived, or the lives in my mind. All I know is that I need more, and I find myself melting into her, locking her into a deeper, harder kiss.
“Mmnnn! There we go! I knew you had it in you, cutie,” Jeanette moans in delight as I lick at her lips, tongue twirling around her own before I finally tilt her back, nibbling up the side of her pale, slender throat. I push my breast into her hand and feel her squeeze down a little, a new spark of pleasure arcing through me, tantalizing my senses. The blood beneath my skin simmers with intensity as it breathes life back into deadened nerves.
Around the house, around the house, around the house. My hands move to Jeanette’s body, steely fingers touching her hips, her sides, feeling her cool, smooth skin. I kiss her throat, then shoulder, my hands sliding lower to caress up the backs of her thighs and under her skirt, taking two handfuls of her firm, perky backside, giving the globes a squeeze a bit softer than her own groping of my chest.
“Mmn, now you’re getting the hang of it,” she purrs against my lips, nibbling one, then scraping her fangs down along my chin and jaw to bite gently on my shoulder. “Come back with me and I’ll show you the bed....”
“The bed is in plain sight,” I mutter back, glancing over to it. Why would she want me to--
My train of thought is broken suddenly when the daughter of Janus adjusts her grip, grabbing my shoulders and twisting me around, pushing me forward to sprawl along the mattress. “Shirt, off,” she commands, biting her lip as she watches me, my jacket already unfurled across the floor. She’s bossy. I find I... enjoy it? Perhaps it reminds me of mother. Not my mother, of course. Of her I remember only the sound of flies.
Still, her impatient gaze lets me know in no uncertain terms that failure to comply won’t be appreciated -- I follow her instructions and draw my tattered white shirt up and over my head, exposing my flat stomach and modest curves. Tattoos from a meaningless life cover much of my skin, markings and tokens of a person I may as well have never been -- like the raven on my hip, or the spiral of fallen dominoes crawling up one arm. Whoever the girl was that got them, she was lost when I got the Blood. The bars of metal through each nipple I also did not select, but did choose not to remove -- they are amusing to play with when my minds grow bored.
“Mm, cute,” Jeanette coos, crawling up onto the edge of the bed but keeping her knees planted on the floor, grabbing my thighs and swiveling me to face her. “Now I just wanna see exactly what toy my little kitten brought for me to play with.”
Toy. Toy... train, train set, train in the tunnel. Choo choo. Chugga-chugga, chugga-chugga, choo chooooo. “A collector’s item in mint condition. Yours to claim. What are we talking about?”
“This,” She undoes the top button of my tight-fitting leather pants, slashes in the thin material keeping them breathable and not too very... sticky. Though my sweet broken angel seems only interested in what’s within them, not the pants themselves, and tugs them down sharply to reveal much of the rest of me -- including what could be the toy she meant, my member, swollen partially to life by summoning the blood to my extremities. It pulses gently, rising a little more as Jeanette stares at it, looking a slight bit perplexed. “You got a dick?”
“Should I not?”
“Mm, good question. I do too, so I guess I don’t have anything to talk about, do I?”
“Perhaps we can compare them. Or exchange them.”
She blinks. “Uhh, yeah, maybe one of those. But first, I wanna find out how this one tastes.”
Ooh, an exciting mystery. What in the endless spectrum of jelly bean flavors will my dick taste like? Probably ‘dick’... or possibly ‘root beer.’ But from her predatory gaze upon my pale, swelling member, Jeanette Voerman is soon to find out.
A spark of delight rolls through me when she lashes her tongue forth like a hungry chameleon, the wet thing sliding along the tip and crest of my immodest, yet feminine penis, licking, tasting, then kissing. I think to inquire as to the flavor, the results of her research -- but find that all that comes out of me is a soft, tense moan, my hands shifting beneath me to hold me up so that I can watch the blonde beauty work. Her lips suckle lovingly at the side of my head, her mismatched eyes tilted up to watch me watch her, our gazes meeting as she engulfs her lips around the end of my cock. “Ahhnnn....”
“Mm, you like that, huh?” she purrs, dipping down to trail her tongue all the way along the length of my shaft, then bobs back down again to take one of my testicles into her mouth, her cool lips clasping around it, wet tongue rotating around the sensitive orb in rapid circles. One strong, nimble hand wraps around the base of my girlthing, squeezing it and giving it a few fast, sudden strokes while she suckles down below, drawing another groan of pleasure from me as I try to hold to the communement with the surface of my body. “I bet I can think of some more things you’d really like....”
“The... total collapse of an oppressive infrastructure...?” I murmur, only to be mostly ignored by the daughter of Janus. Her goals are clear, and she is not to be distracted. Her entertainment, and her interests, come first, even if I seem to be greatly benefitting from them. She delivers a few more quick strokes before pulling up, teasing her fangs along the side of my cock before smooching the tip once more -- only this time she opens her mouth once more to take me inside of her, and I stare in pleased amazement as the entirety of my girlcock vanishes into her mouth, then down her throat. Like a sword swallower at a carnival, she seems able to sink down onto my shaft as deeply as she pleases until her ruby lips press against my hairless mound, nine inches of throbbing dick disappearing completely in the shadowy dungeon of her esophagus. I feel her throat twitch and shift, rhythmically swallowing and flexing around the wet, pulsing length of my undead member, her tongue curling and sliding around the length of it as best she can.
Still, her eyes never leave mine, a thin line of drool dripping down her lips and chin as she holds me in her mouth and adjusts to my size. Coffee. Strong. Six milks, six sugars. Shaken, not stirred. “Phhhff...” I moan, biting down on my own lower lip as I reach out to grab one of Jeanette’s pigtails, holding her in place where she is and giving her just enough space to draw back a little, bobbing back down onto my cock, forcing my tip in and out of her throat but never allowing it to leave the glistening confines of her word-cage. “My... h-heart soars, as a crow that shrieks in the dead of night...!”
The confused look that briefly crosses Jeanette’s face is lost on me as I continue to watch her, her head bobbing up and down more rapidly now, saliva dripping from her lips as she rams my cock down her throat again and again, though she keeps herself curiously poised, her arms wrapping fully around my waist to keep me in place. Her eyes stay on mine as well, messy sounds getting choked from her as she willfully gags herself on my erection. “Gllck glck ggglllcchhhHhh~!”
Despite having no breath to gasp, my back arches in excitement when I feel her fangs drag along my length, hard enough to make me jump but not quite hard enough to break the skin. I shiver with anticipation as my pleasure keeps building, drowning in the sound of Jeanette’s moaning and gagging, her pale breasts bouncing a little each time she crams her face down into my nethers. So deep, so all-enveloping, drawing a rising moan each time my member vanishes down the tube leading to her belly. “Hhahh... nnmm... haaah, eaaaaAAAHHH...!” my moans escalate into a wail, my body spasming as I give in to the pleasure, the whispers bellowing into my head to keep going, to have more. The mental satisfaction begins to override the understimulation from my undead nerves, and I find myself getting hotter, harder, hornier, my moon-pale flesh shimmering with the rosy flare of lifeblood. “Yes!!”
“Chhgllehhhmmnnn...” the daughter of Janus moans out as she finally draws back from my meat-column, long strands of drool keeping her lips connected to it as she pulls up closer to me, slipping my wet mushroom-tip up beneath the tied bottom of her schoolgirl’s blouse, generally slipping it up and between her full, milky breasts. I can just make out the edges of her pale areolas as she squeezes the two silky-soft globes against each other, binding them around my shaft and starting to rock her body forward against it, her skimpy top still on and doing its part to keep her breasts squished together. “Ahhnn, fuck yeah, this what you want you fucking freak? You wanted me, little fledgling bitch, now I’m yours -- bust your sticky fucking nut all over me before I rip your dick off!”
While I’m uncertain as to the logistics and necessity of her threat, I choose to believe it’s just... dirty talk? Despite being unclear on how words can be soiled or clean. Still, I have no trouble getting into the ‘spirit’ of her demands -- the whispers grow more and more deafening inside my mind, swallowing the sound of my own wild moans but spurring me on, my hips starting to thrust upward again and again, working against her own rhythmic squishing and thrusting of her soft tits around my cock.
She looks up at me, tongue extended and brows tilted up. “Give it to me baby, give the kitten some sweet cream, gimme it gimme it gimme it gimme it fuckfuckfuck...!” she wails out. She continues to hold me against her, bucking back against my thrusts and keeping her cleavage clamped down firmly around my shaft, steadying herself and letting me rut wildly between her full tits.
My brain goes silent for a moment, then. The whispers gone, Jeanette’s encouraging yelps fading into the background, even my own moans vanish. I lean back and let my mouth open wide, fangs bared and glistening in the light of the chandelier as I scream out. The excess and release, the explosion of orgasm is so different than the pleasure I’ve become accustomed to in my new life. The pleasure of blood may be more primal, more intense, but this is paralyzing, nearly numbing, my entire body seizing and twitching as the baby-cannon between Jeanette’s breasts begins to erupt with sticky white fluid, thick and ropey after having gone unused for so long. Pump after pump of the stuff shoots up and out, blasting along Jeanette’s exposed tongue and angelic face, painting along her chest and between her boobs, covering her entirely. “HhaaaAAAAAHHH!!” My scream shakes the walls like the wail of a banshee, cutting through the thumping, artificial music of the club downstairs.
“Mmnn, there we go, baby,” the other vampire purrs, licking a dab of cum from her lower lip and sitting up, undoing the tie at the bottom of her shirt and letting it open completely, then tossing the entire garment aside. “Now it’s time for my present.”
“Pre... sent...?” We have no gifts. Is this the choo choo train she wanted? Does she still want that? Did she ever? I do not recall... I recall so little....
“Hey, kooky, over here,” my eyes un-fog and I look back up to the shattered angel to see her positioned against the far wall of her personal suite, one hand placed on the wall and her legs spread apart, giving me a beautiful view of her perfectly-built legs and long, long socks. Her other hand lifts up the back of her pleated red skirt, showing the back of her smooth ballsack and the flawless globes of her succulent backside. “Give it to me. Hard, fast. Either you make me scream, or I make you scream... and it won’t be as fun as last time.”
“I shall see to it that your flesh-cavern is properly tilled and irrigated,” I say resolutely. I know my task and am unafraid of it. My destiny awaits me.
With unnatural speed, I lunge from the bed to the end of the room, taking Jeanette’s wrist in my hand and holding it firmly, pinning it back to the wall. In a single smooth motion, I penetrate her in two ways -- with my fangs, driving both into the other vampire’s throat, and with my cock, which is plunged with excessive depth and reckless force directly into the club owner’s rear gateway, spearing her with flushed, glistening meat. I feel her tense and tremble, a muffled whimper of satisfaction leaving her lips as I move against the back of her with my double-pronged assault.
“Awhh fuck yes, it feels so big inside my ass... h-harder, baby, harder, kitty needs to bust...!” the daughter of Janus whines, grinding her own hips forward to squish her erect cock against the wall. I reach between the girl and building, not to take hold of her member but of one of her cum-slick breasts, squeezing it, feeling the pale flesh squish and slide between my fingers. I stay latched to her, drawing my hips back before pounding my dick back inside as deep as I can force it, the sheer impact of my body against hers causing her firm, perky buttcheeks to ripple. “Eeeeeeeeohfuckingshit fasterfaster!”
I dig my teeth deeper into her throat, but don’t suck -- wanting only to taste her but not drain her. Just the scent of her blood is intoxicating, and I feel my body light up with frenzied energy when it touches my lips, the sweet, spicy flavor filling my mouth and mind alike. I press my entire body forward, truly clamping Jeanette between the wall and myself, and ram into her again, then again, my thrusts slow and powerful but gaining, going faster, faster. It’s moments before I’ve reached the pinnacle of human speed and I can hear her screams as if in slow motion, and then I’m going faster than that -- sucking from her, groping her, invading her, pummeling her needy ass with my thick girlcock in a state that borders on berserk.
“Hahh... nnnghhaaaaarrh!” I shout out, my hips slapping rapidly into Jeanette’s butt as I destroy her back entrance, the girl now putty melted in my sculptor’s hands as I squeeze and toy with her nipple, biting down hard and summoning the vigor to erupt once again, this time inside of her. I feel her climax around me as I do, the way her rear tunnel squeezes and quivers around me, spasming, her own cock jetting out a fan of sticky, inert seed against the wall in front of her while I fill her ass with my own.
“AaeeiiiYEAHFUCKohmyfucking--EEEIIIAHH!!” she shrieks, jolting and shaking so quickly that she flickers in and out of visibility -- before finally collapsing backwards into my arms. It takes more willpower than I like (and I consider not exercising it at all, before I remember Jeanette’s newfound value to me) to detach my fangs from her neck, but I succeed, and then wind my arms around her to carry her back to the bed, tossing her onto it before crawling atop her. “That... was... whoa....”
“I hope you are not too weary, broken beauty,” I whisper, kissing her lips gently again and mounting her, my cock pressing firmly alongside her wet, twitching one, slightly smaller than mine. “There are many hours, yet, before dawn....”
