Hunger
This is a speculatory tale about Doris Lang from Vampire Hunter D Please don't correct me on my facts, I'm well aware I've taken liberties, but please do reply with constructive criticism or comments.
By the way, this story contains elements which may be disliked by those of a sensitive or unimaginative disposition.
Pete Cullen <Melmoth@hpsound.demon.co.uk>
Hunger
Doris locked the door and crossed the room to the small wooden table at its centre. With trembling hands she placed the wire cage on the heavily scratched surface and paused, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain washed over her body. She knew what she had to do, but that didn't make it any easier.
A quiet scrabbling came from the cage, and Doris bent at the waist to look. The straw covering the bottom of the cage shifted and a tiny pink nose framed with white whiskers poked out. The nose was soon followed by a small white mouse, which sniffed the air of its new surroundings.
Doris flipped the catch at the top of the cage and opened the hatched square of steel threads that kept it a sealed environment. The mouse stopped sniffing and backed into a corner as Doris reached her hand in, fingers stretching toward the terrified animal. She hesitated, fingertips an inch from the poor creature, which was trying to dig down into the straw to escape her, and looked at her arm. The skin was pale and slightly translucent, and Doris could see a network of pale blue veins silently pulsing just beneath it. Her hand shot forward and grabbed the mouse, which squirmed vigorously and emitted a high pitched squeaking, giving Doris a nasty bite on her forefinger. She gasped at the sharp pain but held on, watching the tiny drop of blood that formed at her fingertip run down her finger and hand and drip off at her wrist sending up a small cloud of dust as it hit the floor.
With her empty hand, Doris pulled to her the only other furniture in the room, a rickety wooden chair as scratched and worn as the table, and sat down, the rough wood cold against the bare thighs. Holding the wriggling mouse up to the moonlight, she turned it over and tried to look into its eyes. Even now she thought that the dread task may yet be avoided, but the rodent was struggling so fiercly it was impossible to do what she was trying to do - to look into its soul.
Fighting back the nausea, Doris took the mouse's head in her left hand and its hind end in her right, stopping its struggling and leaving an exposed section of paper white midriff between her hands which twisted this way and that in a futile attempt to break free.
She brought the mouse up toward her face and, closing her eyes tightly, opened her mouth wide. Another feeling of sickness rose up from her stomach and she gagged twice, a minute amount of acrid liquid burning the back of her tongue. She swallowed the hot bile and tried to steady herself to do what she knew had to be done. Keeping her eyes screwed as tightly shut as she could, so tightly it hurt, she brought the mouse up a little further, until the fur brushed against her lips, causing her to flinch and fight back another gag. Pressing the creature against her mouth in a strange animal kiss, she tried to close her teeth on the soft body of the defenceless animal, enlarged canines pressing against flesh and rubbing skin over thin bones. Before she could break that skin, Doris was filled with revulsion and flung the mouse away from her, letting out a cry and wiping her lips on her forearm. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she retched once, then threw up a mouthful of thin yellow liquid, which seared her mouth and throat as it came forth, splattering on the floor and Doris' bare feet in steaming droplets.
The mouse hit the floor halfway across the room and rolled several times before scrambling to its feet and running to the far wall where it scampered back and forth looking for an exit. Despite the urgency of its search, it never moved away from the wall, not wanting to get any nearer to Doris, who was coughing and rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. She pulled her thin white vest over the top of her head and used it to clean the stinging fluid from her feet, dropping the stained singlet over the foul puddle and returning, now naked save for her white cotton panties, to the seat. The strength abandoned her legs completely and she collapsed onto the chair, breathing hard and, feeling a sudden chill, crossed her arms over her bare chest.
She watched the mouse as it raced up and down the base of the wall, scratching at the stone with the grim determination of an animal that knew it was facing death. Its pathetic vulnerability, though pitiable, made Doris feel immensely powerful, and she pictured herself destroying the creature, snuffing out its tiny life with her hands and teeth, sucking out its vital juices and feasting on its still beating heart. Thoughts of death excited Doris more than she had ever known, a rush of lust shooting down her body. A powerful heat grew in her crotch and warmed her lower abdomen, making her dizzy with sexual desire.
She hated herself for these feelings, hated the pleasure she gave herself by thinking of killing, but it was hard to fight the fire of ecstasy that engulfed her. Her right hand traced a line down her belly and reached the top of the material covered area, a finger running along the top of her panties and dipping slightly under the band. Breath coming in deeper and deeper gasps, Doris heard a creak from outside the door and jumped, snatching her hand away from its exploration and covering her breasts. Her coyness only lasted a second, however, as the prospect of being caught in her self-abuse only served to double the thrill. The hand once more snaked down her torso to stop just short of giving any release from her tension.
The quiet sound of the mouse scuttling its endless path across the floor made Doris turn to watch it. Now almost overcome with bloodlust, she closed her eyes and saw herself tearing the innocent animal to shreds, coating her hands and staining white cotton blood red.
The desire to kill clouding her vision crimson and all feelings of revulsion leaving her mind, Doris flung herself toward the mouse, letting out a low, guttural growl. This time she met the little animal's gaze fully, and it froze in its tracks, quivering but quite unable to escape, perhaps its rodent mind dimly aware of the utter futility of any attempt at flight.
Doris snatched the creature up and bit into it, canines and incisors cutting deep into flesh and drawing forth blood in such quantities that it dribbled down her arms and chin. Little went to waste, though, as Doris drank the mouse's lifeblood like it was nectar, swallowing the copious flow as it if were the first she'd drunk in days, squeezing the lifeless body and sucking on the wound to ensure she got every last drop. When she had finished drinking she cast the limp corpse away from her and ran her blood covered hands all over her body, writhing in pleasure and making quiet, mewling sounds. It only took a few seconds of bloody masturbation before she experienced the greatest orgasm she had ever known, a hot, blinding climax that started beneath her hand and spread to fill her completely, taking her to the very edge of conciousness.
Her body exhausted, Doris looked around the room with half closed eyes. They lighted on the torn body of the mouse, the empty cage, the yellow stained vest. Looking at her own body she saw the bloody streaks and handprints that covered her, staining both her skin and her sole item of clothing, now completely ruined. Guilt, fear and a feeling of absolute loneliness were all she had now, aside from the knowledge that her hunger was now sated.
Doris the vampire curled up in a corner and cried herself to sleep.
END
