Heir of Wolcott Manor
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 16: A Feast for Lovers
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 16: A Feast for Lovers - After his father's passing in 1822, Silas Wolcott returns home to discover he has inherited a fortune beyond necessity. However, soon, he must uncover the secrets of his House and bloodline. With the help of his stalwart butler, a seductive vampire, and his own intellect, Silas must navigate a power FAR greater than any of mortal comprehension.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Historical Alternate History Paranormal Vampires Cream Pie Halloween Royalty Violence
“I’ve been alive a bit longer than you. And dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine. And done things I’d prefer you didn’t ... Don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years. And there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of ... I’m not asking you for anything. When I say, ‘I love you,’ it’s not because I want you or can’t have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best of you and the worst of you. And I see with perfect clarity what you are. You’re a hell of a woman. You’re the One.”
— William “Spike” Pratt (as portrayed by James Marsters), Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 7, Episode 20: Touched. Written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner. Directed by David Solomon. Originally aired May 6, 2003, on UPN. Series created by Joss Whedon. Copyright © 2003 Mutant Enemy Productions, Twentieth Century Fox Television, and The WB Television Network. All rights reserved.
For all of his reservations with Sophia, Silas found himself drawn to her. It was wrong for him to be upset at the princess when it was Elizabeth that seemed to think less of him.
And so, on this night, when he came to bed with Sophia, he undressed, hung his coat up, and left the knife in an inner pocket.
“Silas?” Sophia asked from bed.
He leaned down and whispered into her ear.
“Hello, beautiful. I am so sorry.”
His lips brushed against hers. He climbed into bed.
Why would he separate himself from one who generally seemed to care for him? As he looked over her naked form, he admired her for all she was.
She was the woman that was helping fix all his problems. It was she who was moving the path forward to discover what was behind the large door in his basement.
Children, all over the world, believed there was a monster under their bed or creaking under the wooden panels under the floor. In Silas’ case, that might have been far closer to the truth.
Their undertaking was dangerous, and as he thought on the matter, he felt more sure of having someone like Sophia by his side. She had not harmed or belittled him.
To the contrary, she had always been close to him, so as he came into bed, he slithered like a snake between her legs. She gasped as she became aware of his proximity and existence.
My head brushed against her inner thigh. Sophia, in turn, let out a soft gasp. This was not one of fear or uncertainty but mild surprise.
As his mouth found her mound, he allowed his tongue to dart out. Sophia let out a moan and reached down to run her fingers through his hair.
To his best ability, me explored her sex with his licking and lapping organ meant for speech. He enjoyed his tasteful probing of her. Knowing her in this way only drew him in. The deeper his tongue wet, the wetter she became.
The feel of her pubic hair on his face and nose could only make him smile all the more, for he was a man in his paradise. Between her legs, he found solace. As she moaned and gripped, he had his home.
His hands were not idle. First, he felt her legs and thighs, rounding on her buttocks before reaching up for her breasts. The feel of her intensified all he felt, and it became impossible not to want more of her, need more of her body.
Her flesh on his. In these small moments, he could understand why a vampire fed on the blood of another. His blood ran hot for her, and if she were to taste him, he knew she would know his truest desires of her.
Not just for the knowledge or this adventure, but for her. She was the outside world, coming in to save him from his despair. He would not wallow in depression and darkness. She revitalized him. She gave him life, and so he would return such an offering by giving her his attentions, affections, and desires.
He knew she would want this when she was tensing up. She nearly broke his hand from how hard she squeezed. The flood of her orgasmic juices flooded his face, and a smirk formed on his countenance.
Sophia was trying to catch her breath and say, “What brought that on?”
No response came from his mouth other than to kiss her. She felt his manhood between her legs, and she keened out a small wail of pleasure from his manhood sliding into her slit.
The maddening look in her eyes told him that he was doing everything correctly, and he relished his prowess as he slid into her back and forth.
His speed and tempo started to improve, but the delirium of pleasure had overtook Sophia. No longer was she simply a woman. She was a monstrous slave to her desire, and she gripped Silas by the arms and threw him onto his back in the grand bed.
Reaching between her legs, she grabbed his phallus, and slowly, intentionally brought him back into her. The breath that escaped her told him she was close to another rapture of pleasure.
For this moment, Silas had never known what it was like to be a stallion and rode, but Sophia allowed him the pleasure to become familiar with the sensation.
With one hand on his chest, she kept him on his back. With the other she gripped and cracked the head of his bed by squeezing the wood.
She cried out once, twice, three times before a flood of her honey’s juices covered his cock.
He could not resist the feeling. He was lost to her and her power. This was how he would be.
There was pain in his hips from the preternatural speed and strength, but for any discomfort he experienced, the pleasure was tenfold, and he could not withstand all she was, what they were together.
Finally, as he was gripping his own hair, Silas let out a cry and his ejaculating release unloaded into the vampire princess.
She did not deny him that unleashed euphoric delight. She accepted all of him, and returned with an outcry of her own. The blissful shout was a reciprocation. As they came together, the two never felt closer.
When she finally came down from her sensation, she kissed Silas on the chest and then cheek before the two collapsed into slumber.
The carriage drew up before Wolcott Manor with the customary creak of iron and shuffle of hooves. Traveling by carriage was rather nice. One such as Pellham could go over his notes, the expectations of his superior, as well as checking to see if there were any women in the area that he might know.
Life was a party for Jon. Death was inevitable, but if he could experience every pleasure, sensation, and wonder in this life, then he would go from this life with a smile on his face.
When Jonathan Pellham looked up, he closed his notebook, grabbed his parcel, and the letter from the Dean before descending.
The house was alive with preparations. The soft rustle of liveried attendants was one he had become familiar with as a man of means.
From his assessment, a party was to be held that evening.
He had scarcely given his coat to a servant when Silas Wolcott appeared at the head of the stairs.
“Jonathan,” Silas declared, descending with a speed that gave the impression of impatience rather than politeness. “After your recent departure, I did not think I would be seeing you again, so soon, but I am glad you are here!”
“Oh?” Jonathan asked. “Now why is that?”
“Your arrival usually coincides with ensuring no affair is a dull one.”
Jonathan let out a long and loud laugh.
“For that, thank you,” he said.
The two had a small chuckle together. When the levity ran its course, Jon stood in a more formal manner.
“However, I can’t enjoy your entertainment until my business is done.”
It was Silas’ turn to go: “Oh?”
“Dean Ashcombe of Dreibruch University offers you a personal and formal invitation to come to the campus at your earliest convenience. He truly wants you to see the place after the most recent developments. If nothing else, he wants you to see the progress he is making.”
He produced a folded and sealed missive of handsome parchment. He handed it over to his friend without style or flash, so that Silas could understand how seriously he had taken this missive.
“This must be serious if the Dean wishes for my presence.”
Jonathan allowed himself a small, reluctant smile.
“I cannot know for certain, as I am merely the courier, but I did speak highly of you to the Dean, and he has been doing a lot of good work to help humanity, so this might be just for you as I know you are a good Christian Humanist.”
Silas let out a laugh as Jon’s jibe landed.
“There are still some matters here I need to look over, but since the Dean of our alumn seems incredibly intent, I will do all I can to meet with him.”
He flashed a smile before grabbing his friend jovially.
“With business now disposed of, will you be with us tonight?”
Jonathan let out a bigger laugh.
“Have I ever been known to say no to a good party?”
The basement of Wolcott Manor was colder than any chamber above.
It was in this underground room that shadows pooled in the corners as black ink does when it is spilled on a ledger. There seemed to be a dampness to the stone as though the walls themselves were breathing to create condensation.
Elizabeth of Russia and Latif the Alchemist stood before the door. Not the entrance to the cellar, but the one into the unknown. Egyptian hieroglyphs, Norse runes, Grecian symbols, and Latin script were all carved into the material. It fascinated as much as it struck fear into the hearts of those who observed the entryway to nowhere.
Latif’s fingers hovered over the carvings, tracing them as though the pressure of touch might draw forth some sense or meaning.
“Mon dieu...,” he murmured softly.
Despite his descript past, every now and then, the French lilt struck his manner of speech.
“It is warning, oui ... a warning that trespasses upon reason.” he went on to no one in particular.
Though Elizabeth was with him, this was a scholastic investigation, not one of companionship. His mind was for the working of magic and puzzles, and this door was certainly worthy of being in both categories.
“Should Mister Wolcott be correct ... if there truly is a godlike horror imprisoned behind this tree and metal, it may ... it may come to harm us.”
Elizabeth’s eyes observed with a cold calculated pale nature of a plethora of frozen lakes. Her gaze never left the door of the man trying to discover some meaning from the barrier.
Latif was scribbling in some script that he would decipher later. Or perhaps, she only thought, his handwriting was incredibly terrible, and only he knew what he was saying.
“I agree, Latif,” she breathed. “That is precisely why it is a mistake to try and open it without all of our attentions on this singular manner?”
Latif turned his head and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you speak of the entanglement of Sophia and Silas?”
“Foolishness of Silas and Princess Sophia would be a far better way to put the manner, Alchemist,” Elizabeth remarked briskly. “To intertwine themselves romantically when the danger lies so near, is to court disaster with both hands while also closing your eyes.”
Her Russian accent threaded each word with authority and centuries of caution. She was, by no means, a fool nor one to take unnecessary risks. Life was full of danger at every corner. To live as long as she did meant she needed to be aware of the dangers in life and take precautions where she could and avoid where she could not.
Latif tilted his head.
“Pardon ... While their connection is personal, is it any of our business?”
“Of course it is our business if they wish to involve us in this adventure,” Elizabeth shot back.
“Why so?”
Elizabeth’s hand lifted, tracing a line along the hieroglyphs with measured deliberation.
“It is no accident, Latif, that his door lies beneath Wolcott’s home. Consider, perhaps, this is not merely an entrance to some being, but one bound to the Wolcott bloodline itself. Silas may be ... more important than he suspects.”
“Lineage, yes?”
His voice softened as he moved closer. He brought out a ruler to take measurements with one hand while he had a protractor under his armpit. A rudimentary pencil was in his mouth as he spoke.
“Tell me, madam, why this hypothesis? I do not follow the thinking entirely.”
She drew a slow breath with the patience of one who knew the centuries intimately.
“History and what others know as mythology is not silent,” she began slowly, “even when truth is veiled. The House of David was supposedly blessed by Adonai; kings of Greece and Rome claimed descent from Zeus and the Olympians, no matter what name or title was used; England whispers of a king who drew a sword from stone while guided by a wizard whose veins ran with demon-blood. Long have we known that magic is real.”
“Of course we do,” Lafit replied as he made more notes to look over later.
“But with the rise of philosophy and practical sciences, most discard such thinking as childish nonsense,” she said.
Latif made a motion with his hand for her to continue as he was listening and getting all the data he could collect.
“But if even one supernatural tale be true, we must consider that any or all of them might be true,” she explained.
“Surely not,” Latif countered. “Some of those tales would contradict one another.”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth replied. “But what does that matter? In historical accountings, there are contradictory testimonies all the time. Perhaps, both happened, perhaps one or the other. Modern scholars will accept that which they have seen, heard, or can verify. We do not have that advantage. It is for that failing on their ends that they cannot consider a vampire of true magical alchemist such as yourself.”
“C’est vrai!” Latif exclaimed. He calmed himself before motioning to Elizabeth. “Go on. I wish to hear this conclusion.”
“Why, then, should the Wolcotts be any less bound to what lies beneath them? What if one of his ancestors had bound the creature or had helped and they were given riches or gifts or something to guard it? Maybe that was lost to time, but I don’t know ... it feels correct.”
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