was ignored, her corset tugged down to spill out her breasts, while fingers like claws scraped across the soft flesh. A rasping groan escaped Aunt Isabella’s throat as she continued to feed, with Cicely now sobbing in her grip. She’d shut her eyes tight, unable to watch, for all that she knew exactly what was happening, and no longer able to escape had she wanted to, with her body held tight in a bony embrace and Aunt Isabella’s long, curved fangs pushed deep into her neck.
Even when the emaciated hand released her breasts to move lower, Cicely stayed as she was, whimpering faintly into Aunt Isabella’s abundant hair as long, thin fingers pushed in at the slit of her drawers. She cried out as what felt like gristle touched her cunt, but her thighs had come wide, seemingly of their own accord, to allow one slender digit inside her. Now penetrated, her sobs grew deeper, more urgent, and still the blood flowed.
Cicely gave in, letting her thighs open wider still and throwing her head back, her neck fully exposed as Aunt Isabella climbed on to her. Pinned down on the bed, with the fangs locked into her flesh as now strong fingers worked in her cunt, Cicely found herself helpless, unable to resist either mentally or physically as she gave strength to her aunt. Her heart was pumping fast, her breath coming in urgent, ragged gasps that broke to an involuntary cry of ecstasy as she came to orgasm under the now firm and pliant fingers.
A moment later Aunt Isabella pulled back, and for a long while the two women lay together in silence.
Only when the gashes in Cicely’s neck had fully healed did she voice her feelings. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t masturbate me while you feed. It’s most unsettling.’
‘It makes your heart beat faster and improves the flow of blood,’ Aunt Isabella replied. ‘As I believe I have explained before. And, besides, you whimper so nicely.’
Cicely made a face but didn’t reply. Aunt Isabella was now propped up in her bed, her round, pale limbs still naked, but smooth and supple, her breasts full and firm, her belly a gentle womanly curve. She had fed well, rather better than usual, which had left Cicely feeling weak and a little dizzy.
‘I see you’re dressed for town,’ Aunt Isabella said after a while. ‘New blood?’
‘I hope so,’ Cicely replied. ‘There’s a club I want to try, full of boys who think they’re vampires, girls too.’
Aunt Isabella gave a wistful sigh, then spoke again. ‘You couldn’t bring one back this time, could you? A girl, of course.’
‘You know I can’t, Auntie,’ Cicely replied. ‘That sort of thing gets noticed nowadays, and we couldn’t very well let her go afterwards, not with the way Florence looks, and … and you.’
‘But I’m beautiful,’ Aunt Isabella protested.
She had risen from the bed, her naked milk-white flesh glimmering in the candlelight, her hair a cascade of pure silver, her eyes flickering with reflections of vivid red. Her mouth was now full, her lips a delicate blushing mauve, the fangs that rose both up and down from her jaws long and sharp.
‘Beautiful,’ Cicely agreed, ‘and very obviously a vampire, a real vampire.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Aunt Isabella replied, ‘only the other day you were saying how good the make-up is these days, and that film, Van Helsing, was most convincing, I thought.’
‘It’s called CGI, Auntie,’ Cicely said patiently. ‘Computer-generated imagery. It’s not real.’
Aunt Isabella was making a critical inspection of one heavy white breast and didn’t reply immediately.
‘I must go,’ Cicely stated.
‘Flawless,’ Aunt Isabella remarked, ‘the colour and texture of cream as one sweet boy once remarked.’
‘Did he live?’
‘No.’
‘They don’t often, do they? Not with you.’
‘I can’t help it if I have a passionate nature.’
‘Maybe not, but that is another very good reason for you not to come out with me tonight.’
‘Oh very well, give your auntie a kiss then, and you’d better run along.’
Cicely stood to kiss her aunt, their lips meeting in a faint caress, only to open in passion, their mouths wide together, tongues entwined, with no sound but the faint chink of their fangs.
‘Little and pointy in the mouth, and such big boobies,’ Aunt Isabella remarked as she finally pulled away. ‘You’re a lucky girl, Cicely.’
Cicely smiled and kissed her aunt once more before scampering from the room, only to slow as she reached the top of the stairs. She’d let Aunt Isabella take more blood than usual, while it had been a long time since she’d fed herself. Her need was now urgent, but she found herself obliged to support herself on the banister as she descended the stairs and she tripped on the last step as she came back out into the moonlit garden.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ Florence asked.
‘She was a little greedy,’ Cicely answered.
‘You really must learn to assert yourself,’ the Baroness advised. ‘Don’t put up with her nonsense.’
‘I just need to sit down for a moment,’ Cicely said. ‘Then I’d better go.’
‘You’re weak,’ the Baroness stated. ‘I shall come with you.’
‘Come with me?’ Cicely said in surprise. ‘But, Baroness, you haven’t left the grounds in years. Decades in fact.’
‘Since 1952, to be precise,’ the Baroness responded.
‘Really, my dear,’ Florence put in. ‘I’m not at all sure that it’s a good idea.’
‘Nonsense,’ the Baroness answered her. ‘It will do me good.’
‘Things have changed,’ Cicely said.
‘I have seen change across very nearly two hundred years, Cicely St Cyr,’ the Baroness pointed out. ‘And now I am of a mind to see some more. Besides, you are so weak you can barely stand.’
‘I can manage, thank you.’
‘Not another word, Cicely. Let us go to the carriage.’
‘The car, Baroness,’ Cicely pointed out. ‘I drive a car.’
‘A most vulgar abbreviation, and a most vulgar vehicle. Blood-red paintwork indeed. Sometimes your sense of humour is positively grotesque.’
‘It’s inconspicuous. Speaking of which, at the very least you will have to change.’
‘Certainly not!’
The Baroness had risen and stalked into the house. Cicely made to follow, but Florence spoke up. ‘Shall I come too, my dear?’
Cicely turned to make a brief inspection of the corpse-white face, the ragged grave shroud that
