Heir of Wolcott Manor
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 18: Our Very Nature
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 18: Our Very Nature - 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
“Human nature is evil, and goodness is caused by intentional activity.”
— Xunzi (c. 310–235 BCE), Xunzi (also known as Hsün Tzu), Book on Human Nature. Composed during the Warring States period in ancient China. Translated by Burton Watson. Published by Columbia University Press, 1963. Copyright © 1963 by Columbia University Press. All rights reserved.
The week passed with a certain quickness. The ones with knowledge of the basement could not move forward on that matter without the cover and noise of a soirées, and the rich and powerful were enjoying these weekend parties of Silas Wolcott.
Wolcott Manor was a bustle with life in a way that it never had been under Richard Wolcott’s tenure. Though, the town was quickly forgetting the name and legacy of that caretaker of the Wolcott name.
From parlors to drawing rooms, in shops and on street corners, and around the state as a whole, conversations circled back to the topic of the social festivities of Silas Wolcott. While this did not earn him a reputation of being beloved, people were calling him a young, generous man who wanted to lift the spirits of others. Parts of New Haven believed their business was, in part, being funded by Silas’ celebrations as well as the influx of visitors.
For all of this, no one looked deeper than this was a man younger than thirty five years old, sowing his oats and flexing his influence. Such was the time of the 1820s.
Carriages came and went. There was an eager expectancy from the young while the more mature crowd enjoyed that the evening was simply a time away from home.
These events were for them to smile, see his golden world without having to be especially raucous. In that way, an event such as this pleased every person that came.
The manor itself was a beacon on the hill that brought expectation just as much as light.
Society and curiosity melded in this unique way, for most knew this was not Silas’ first bash, the rumors abounded that it might be the last.
Whatever the truth of the man, his home, or the celebrations, one matter was clear: the Wolcott party was not to be missed.
Jon had not been able to rid his mind of her. This foreign beauty was captivating. He had been with many women, but there was something he could not quantify about this ‘Miss Elizabeth’. There was a singular nature to her that made going through a day impossible without thinking about her.
All week, he had gone without seeing her. He had no excuse to come to the Wolcott Manor. To come like a dog begging for scraps would not do for Jon.
He had walked through down, expecting to see her in some shop or parlor, but there was no such luck.
He almost began to wonder if Silas was providing for all of her needs. As quick as the thought came, he discarded such lascivious thinking about his friend. Silas was so pure back in their college days that most thought he would be a chaste priest, so the attention of Princess Sophia should be more than enough to hold his curiosities.
Thankfully, his friend had decided to host another one of his dances mixed with drinking and socialization. The din of violins and laughter held no interest for him; all noise faded into the background of nothingness for the Pellham man.
His footsteps would not betray the urgency that consumed him.
Elizabeth was there, white shoulders bare as she wore a beautiful gown. She was less of a woman, but rather an apparition actualized from his desperate yearning for her. He was not sure what to do, or how to be. She captivated him so entirely that there was no escape for him.
In truth, he did not want to escape. He wished to be taken in by her until nothing of who he was before meeting her was real. Let that older identity be destroyed so that he might become whatever he was meant to be with and for her.
A hushed corridor was the only place he could see to get her away from the company in the dining room, ballroom, or pavilion. Jon almost cursed Silas’s family for having such a grand home.
But then, finally, his heart’s desire occurred.
She was near him, alone from others, and the hungering of his soul made his mouth salivate. If he spoke with the fire that raged in his chest, if he pressed upon her the depth of his devotion and arduous longing, she could not reject him.
Where in his moments had he gone from simply wanting to bed her to craving her so completely? He could not have known the answer, but if absence made the heart grow fonder, not seeing this woman turned a lustful spark into a burning longing.
He would show her how ardently he admired, desired, could come to worship her until all she could do is desire him back in turn.
His hand grazed against the wall as his breath quickened. Each step nearer to her was a step into a destiny he imagined written in his imagination for them both.
She must be his; on this night, she would be his!
Elizabeth had not intended to be followed, but she could recognize that it was happening.
Her purpose in descending to the lower hall was a private one. As part of the illusion that she was a mortal woman and a guest of Silas Wolcott, she was to make an appearance, so if guests were asked, they could say they saw her.
In that way, she knew Silas and Sophia were still thinking like humans. They were clever, sure, but if they opened the door, it would not be a lawful inquiry asking whether or not each had an alibi. However, this was Silas’s home, so Elizabeth would play along.
At that moment, Jonathan pursued her, careless of propriety. Had Elizabeth been a woman between twenty five and thirty five, to be alone with one such as this Pellham man would have led others to believe that there was a sexual relationship.
The thought almost made her laugh. Had she been mortal, she would have been wed, bed, bred, and raising children at this point in life. That was the expectation of a woman of her standing. It was the cost of having wealth, connections, and being a woman all at the same time, and it was a price she was willing to pay; after all, those benefits far outweighed the cost.
When he was too near, Elizabeth let out a small sigh for herself.
“Mr. Pellham,” she said.
Though her voice was composed, her heart throbbed with annoyance at the arrogant entitlement of this man.
“Miss Elizabeth. I was hoping to find you.”
“I am aware,” she replied curtly. “This is neither the time nor the place; I am busy. I entreat you to return to the ballroom.”
“Why?” Jon asked. “Why would you evade me here and now?”
Elizabeth could hear his words quickening by desperate desire moment by moment.
“Do you think I do not feel your power over me? I know you must feel it, too!”
“I do not have time for this,” Elizabeth remarked.
“You must listen,” he said, grabbing her by the wrists. “Grant me this moment. You will not regret it, my lady”
Elizabeth turned to face him, and withdrew her arm from his grip with her superior strength. Civility alone was all that held her back from harming this mortal.
“I already regret your presence,” she replied, cool as a winter dawn. “I will ask you to go ... now, sir, before you bring shame onto us both.”
“No, Elizabeth!” Jon cried forlornly. “I will accept no refusal. I would sooner die than leave you.”
He stepped closer to her. She could see the maddening cry of lust in his eye even as she was so very near the staircase that led to the basement.
She raised her arm (not in violence). Sheer necessity demanded that she bar him from coming nearer.
The contact from her palm to his chest seemed to drive him more onward as he pushed forward. She pulled her arm back and pushed forward to pin him against the wall, yet the terribly immense strength that lay hidden within her betrayed her intent to restrain him.
Her palm struck his chest with more force than she had conceived, and Jonathan was hurled back to the wall. A small cavity existed where her hand had gone, and his head met the wall with a sound dreadful thunk of finality.
Cracking ice when one was standing on a river was far less terrifying to Elizabeth at that moment. She knew what this putrid mortal meant to her benefactor. All too quickly did she know the fate of this Jonathan Pellham.
For a breathless instant, silence reigned.
His body collapsed at her feet, crumbling in its lifelessness. The spark of existence left his wide eyes, which had only known bewilderment less than a heartbeat before.
She would not gasp or cry out even though she was aware of his transition to the land of the dead.
Elizabeth stood motionless. She wanted to continue the endeavor with the door, but Silas would not forgive her. He would think her a murderer rather than this being an accident.
The party’s distant laughter did not touch her ears because her grotesque action would lose her any opportunity to know the greater truth behind the door. Then, she realized Silas would have to listen to her. He was human and no threat to her. Then she thought of Sophia ... Sophia might be able to best Elizabeth in combat, but would Sophia turn on another person of noble blood and a vampire, no less.
In that dim passage, Elizabeth felt the chill of a darker truth: Sophia would assist in killing her. Just as Elizabath’s nature (though usually so carefully restrained) had betrayed her, so too would Sophia’s. She was a lover to Silas first, and a princess and vampire second.
The night was once filled with celebration and possibility, but as the seconds ticked forward, she could feel the walls of reality closing in on her like a tomb. She knew that she would not survive this night if she stayed in Wolcott Manor.
Unfortunately, this conclusion came to her far too late.
The music from the outside lingered like a mockery in the moment. In the hall that led to the basement, Jonathan Pellham lay contorted in silent death. His features were twisted in a final bewilderment that did not understand that the end of his life had come.
Elizabeth stood over him in shock.
However, for Silas, who paused with a half-frozen step, he had not known what events had taken place to achieve this end. He had, like most people, seen the conclusion and accepted that he knew enough about the moment to make a decision.,
His eyes scarcely dared to blink at the murderer, for he could very well be her next victim. The book’s dreadful warnings echoed in his mind. He had all but dismissed those concerns because he trusted Sophia, because the mystery of the door seemed too large a prospect.
The evidence for his fear lay before him in a terribly irrefutable manner, and he would spend the rest of his life feeling regret for allowing Jon to be near Elizabeth. The fault fell to him, and his soul’s conscience would not allow him to pretend otherwise.
“Elizabeth...” he breathed.
Her gaze met his. Her eyes grew wider than he thought physically possible.
“Silas, it’s not what you think...!” Elizabeth replied quickly.
There was no remorse in her words, only fear. If he needed any sign of her guilt, this lapse of feeling and a dead body sufficed.
His hand went instinctively to the pocket where his silver dinner knife rested. He had left it there to protect himself. In that sad and regretful moment, he wished he had used it sooner.